#we lived but I turned around twice trying to figure out the best way to get the heck out of here

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it���s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”

[gothneighbor]

> tornado alley

> basements and storm shelters don’t come standard with wherever you live

>????

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[knowyourplace-fool]

Umm, I loved bully gojo and 2 , what happened after he kidnapped her and yknow , non conned her , like is he just obsessed with her , ORRRR , is he obsessed with her aaanndd IN LOVE with her ? Will he force her to be his girlfriend and future wife. Will she try to pick herself up and make a good life for self even though gojo literally exists. Hmmmmmmmm???? Idk but anwyas that story atteee . Stay sexy , ..sexy 🥰💓

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference, pregnancy sex

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

-> Idk why but everyone ate that Gojo fic up for some reason😭

-> part 1

Oh boy, he is more than obsessed with you

You made it too easy for him

With your family being out of the picture and you having quite literally 0 friends

Isolating you… well you already did that to yourself

Your reputation at school burned to the ground the moment he decided to leak your sex tape

So there’s no going back to uni

He handed in a resignation letter on your behalf and though your boss was concerned, Satoru assured her that you’re alright, but your morning sickness has been brutal lately

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, telling Satoru to pass on her congratulations to you

Your roommate at your dorm didn’t give a crap (she has a big, fat crush on Satoru and when she found out he slept with you, she wanted to kill you.)

That urge only grew stronger when Satoru stopped by your dorm to move your stuff out and when she asked him why he was the one moving it, he simply stated,

“Well, she’s pregnant with my child so she’ll be living with me so I can take care of her.”

Safe to say your roommate spent the night ripping her hair out of her scalp

And you. You’re sitting in the sunroom with a cup of warm tea and a side of prenatal vitamins in front of you

You’re in deep thought when the door swings open and a tall figure enters in

He sits next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that your back is relaxed on his chest

“Did you take a look at the blueprints?”

“I did but… what’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing. I’d just like a bigger home to raise our family in.”

He’s met with silence

“You haven’t taken your vitamins.”

“I will, I just, I haven’t been feeling too good this morning.”

To that he hums and leave a kiss on your neck

“How’s the dress shopping going?”

You pause and put your hands over his

“Don’t you think we’re rushing this? Why can’t we wait till after I’ve given birth?”

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

You wanted to ask him why, but you knew it would result in the back of his hand meeting your soft cheek

You had already experienced Satoru’s aggressive side and you’d rather not deal with it until this baby is out of you

“I’m sorry, but I need to pee.” You squeak, escaping his grip and leaving him alone in the sunroom

5 days passed, and it was a big day. Your wedding day. Even though it was put together on such short notice, it turned out marvellous.

For a girl, her wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of her life, right? It’s supposed to be magical, exciting and memorable… right?

So why are you sitting on a chair labeled “bride”, with your hair and makeup complete, staring at a one way bus ticket to the neighbouring city?

That leaves right when the ceremony starts

You had known about the bus ticket. Actually, an unexpected someone had given you the bus tickets.

Suguru, Satoru’s ex-bestfriend.

They had a huge falling out over a business deal and even mentioning his name sets Satoru into a rage. Especially if it’s his fiancee.

So as a lick back, Suguru offered to help you escape him. And maybe by the end of it, you’ll warm his bed once or twice, or better yet, marry him.

From Suguru’s perspective, it was the perfect revenge. Nobody knows Satoru better than himself. He knows exactly how he thinks and what steps he would take to find you.

He also knew that today would be the only day that Satoru wouldn’t be breathing down your neck because you were getting ready to be his bride.

At first, you didn’t believe it. But Geto is convincing. He thought about everything — down to the last little detail. He made you picture a life where you’re far away from Satoru and given a chance to start fresh again.

Going to the neighbouring city means you could have an abortion so you won’t be tied to the blue eyed monster for eternity.

Geto left his number on a sticky note that was attached to the bus ticket. You walk over to the landline and dial his number. After a ring, he picks up and once he hears your sweet voice, he smiles.

“Meet me at the corner of Xander’s street, there’s plenty of trees there to keep you hidden.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and the tips of your ears were hot. You knew. You knew that if Satoru had the slightest hint about what you were about to do, he’d drag you to hell and back. But the idea of marrying him, having his child and building a home for your family, was far more petrifying.

You slip into some shorts and a tank top before sliding out of the bridal room and using the nearest exit to leave the venue. You scurry along the trees, hoping and praying no one sees. The corner of the street was quiet and secluded. You had plenty of cover and you waited until a blacked out Range Rover pulls over.

The window rolls down and it’s Suguru. He tells you to hop into the back seat quickly before anyone sees.

You do what he says, except when you open the back seat door, you’re met with icy blue eyes.

Your breath hitches and before you know it, you’re being pulled into the car with Satoru screaming at you.

“You fucking lying whore! How fucking stupid can you be, hm?”

He placed you on your back and wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly chocking you

“When Suguru told me that you accepted the bus tickets, I let it slide. I let it slide because I thought you were smart enough to know not to cross me. But you, you fucking bitch, you really tried to leave me at the alter! You really thought you could get away from me?”

He tears your shorts apart, revealing your white undergarments that you were supposed to wear under your wedding dress.

You couldn’t help but cry, spewing apology after apology. But he wasn’t having any of it. He unbuckled his own pants, pulling his thick cock out of his trousers. He spat down on it for lube and without a care in the world, entered into you.

“You stupid bitch- you thought you could run away and abort my baby?!”

He leans down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he tugs on your hair to expose your neck.

“If you thought, even for a second that you could hide from me and live a normal life after killing my child. You’re just as sick as me… And clearly, you don’t know who the fuck I am. So let me teach you.”

He lifted your legs to mating press, ruthlessly thrusting into you while you sob beneath him. You try resisting by attempting to pry his fingers off the bottom of your thigh, but he has a death grip on them

“P-please stop… It hurts — I can’t move or b-breathe properly.”

You hiccup, but he ignores. Instead, he picks up the pace, making you cry even harder.

“I’m s-sorry please! Please it hurts! I can’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and take it. Or I’ll ask him to shut you up with his dick. I bet you’d like that, you fucking whore. So eager to leave me, is it because you have the hots for my best friend?”

Your eyes glance at the rear view mirror, and sure enough, his eyes are glued on you

Which only makes you sob harder. Hearing no response from you angered Satoru. Did you really like Suguru? He pressed on your neck, and by the look of his eyes, you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“N-no! I don’t- I swear I- I’m just not ready to be a mother, please!”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

According to Satoru, the entire thing was a test for you. The falling out, Suguru giving you the bus ticket to help you escape, and meeting you at the corner of the street— it was all apart of the test. And you failed it. Miserably.

“And here I was, thinking that I had trained you to know better. To know better than to leave me. But you prove me wrong again and again.”

He finishes inside you. Suguru pulls into the back of the venue. Satoru pulls you up right and lays his forehead against your own.

“Go get your hair and makeup re-done. The next time I see you, you better be in your gown walking down the aisle to wed to me. Do you understand?”

“Mmh”

“Words”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Apologies for any mistakes. It’s pretty late. Also have mercy on me, I haven’t wrote anything in 9 months so it’s a bit rusty😭

[froggybells]

Sign of the Times (2)

part 1 —> here!!

Kyojuro Rengoku x wife!reader

a/n: guys i am so sorry i am so angsty lately and harry styles is also just stuck in my brain!!!! there is a spoiler warning in place and this chapter is a bit short. idk if a part 3 is needed but ive been thinking about this 😭😭😭

word count: <800

we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here

The infinity castle was, well, infinite.

The stories passed down within your family really didn’t depict the magnitude of the situation.

Going into this battle, you had one thing in mind. Well, two things. Your son, who was nestled safely in the company of the former Flame Hashira. The old man grew into an amazing grandfather, after realizing the mistakes he made with his own children.

The other thought was of your husband.

‘What would Kyo say if he were here?’

In all honesty, you wanted nothing more to go home to your son. A living reminder of the beautiful life you once had.

So as you lay on the floor of the Infinity Castle after defeating Muzan, you look up to the ceiling.

You’re sure you can hear Tanjiro calling your name, or maybe it’s Giyuu? Definitely not Sanemi, as you two constantly clash. Then again, you have been getting along lately-

Your thoughts are stopped once you see a figure hovering over you.

The unmistakable yellow-red eyes and corresponding hair.

You blink once, twice, and a third time, yet he is still there.

Surely, you must be dead? Why else would he be here?

“K-Kyo?” You say as you sit up. You look around at the battlefield before you. Destruction is the best way to describe it. Observing the people in the distance who seem to be frozen in time, you turn your head back to your husband, standing there in all his glory.

“Kyojuro? Is this death?”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “No my dear, I’m afraid you aren’t ready for that yet!” You couldn’t stop the tears as they started flowing.

“I want to be ready! I want to be with you again!” Broken sobs come out of your mouth. “I know it’s selfish! I know our son is at home waiting for me! I don’t think I can do it without you, Kyojuro! I-I’m struggling so much and I need you to come back to me! Please come back to me!”

The man kneels forward, and gently places a calloused hand on your cheek. “My gorgeous flame. I understand what you are thinking. Your eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, everything else seems to vanish. You lean into his hand and savor his warm touch, feeling as if he were really there with you.

“I’m so scared, Kyojuro.”

“Y/N,” you’re shocked by the sudden movement of him pulling you into his chest, “You are the bravest, and strongest fighter that I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You completed our goal, my flame. You kept the fires burning long enough to support your allies. And they are going to need you after this. Our son is going to need you.”

Having your ear up to his chest, you swear you can hear a faint heartbeat. “What about what I need?! You- You left me! Alone!” You began trying to escape his grasp, which only got tighter.

“And I will forever hold that burden, Y/N. It wasn’t an easy decision, but for our son to know his father died protecting others is enough closure for me.”

“Where is my closure?” You say, looking up at your husband. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. I needed you to know how proud of you I am. Watching you play with our son and grow as a mother has made me swell with so much pride.” You sniffled into his uniform.

“Y/N. I am so grateful that you are the one to carry on my legacy. You have so much love to give in this world, and I will be waiting for you in the next one.”

Kyojuro finally let go, and stepped away from you.

“Be brave, and be strong. I know you can. And once your time comes, I will be there.”

“Please don’t go yet!” You scream, hand stretching out. He swiftly turns around and pulls your lips to his. His skin is just as warm as you remember it to be, and he rests his forehead on yours.

“It’s time for me to go. But remember my words, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me.”

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: t cw: hook up, mentions of sex, nothing on camera but it's implied tags: no upside au, first meeting, animal shelters, another universe another menial job, bad holiday innuendo word count: 1,526

written for @steddiemas prompt "mistletoe"

PART TWO of this thing here (it should stand alone tho)

Eddie lay flat on his back, arms outstretched, somehow still recovering. What the fuck just happened. Good luck? Bad? Eddie still wasn't sure and his brain was mush so no way he was figuring that out now. He’d just gone in to adopt a cat and, sure, yeah, he got a cat (not the one he’d picked out before going in) but it was the signing bonus that had Eddie all confused—and exhausted.

A man far too attractive to be hanging out and “annoying his best friend” as he said, just living life and existing in places Eddie could go was not part of the plan. No fucking way. Yet the guy used his charm and cheesy jokes on Eddie. Talking about kissing under the mistletoe like he'd been sitting there waiting for Eddie to show up. It was nuts.

This was the kind of guy Eddie would dream about. Some dude he caught a glimpse of in the grocery store and an amalgamation of several people that Eddie spent months obsessed over. A created character for fun and fantasy cured only by making some romanceable npc to drop in the game. His friends never let him get those mythical dates.

Instead, this guy was real and throwing himself at Eddie. More affectionate than any of the kittens and twice as adorable, Eddie knew he was in trouble back at the check-in desk. It took one look and Eddie was trying to figure out how to get Steve back to his before he’d learned his name. Nothing had ever worked out so well but Eddie who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

The stars aligned or the dimensions changed, whatever it was, it all worked out. Now Steve was just taking a shower like it was a normal Tuesday and he was in his own home. Eddie wasn’t sure if he could trust his legs yet having his world so thoroughly rocked and this guy was humming songs and using up all the hot water. Even in dreams, though, Eddie wasn’t this nice to himself.

With the shower no longer running, it’d be minutes before Steve came back (unless he bolted) and Eddie would be just as he left him. Naked, exhausted, and happier than he’d been in years. The chipper way Steve got up to shower, he was probably coming back for round two. Something Eddie did not think he had the energy for but, dammit, he’d give it his all. What a way to go out.

It wasn't much but Eddie managed to pull a blanket over himself and snag his phone. A part of him was content in this state. He could manage to find some pajamas or whatever, it wasn't as bad as he was pretending. But why? Why not perform a thank you that'd be awkward to say? Let Steve revel in what he'd done to Eddie.

Steve didn't bolt because he was the perfect man, made in the lab of romance and good hair. He came back to Eddie’s room with a smile that disarmed the joke about getting lost on the way to the front door. He knew the man wanted to be here and, god damn, he wanted him here.

With a towel wrapped around his waist and still damp, Steve stood there looking as gorgeous as before, even with flat, freshly washed hair. Cradled in his arm was Mistletoe, the cat Eddie walked out with because Steve turned Eddie into a pushover with the batting of his eyelashes. Who could resist that? Not Eddie. Despite popular opinion, he was, in fact, human.

In the other hand, Steve held two bottles of water. Presumably from Eddie’s fridge but he wouldn’t put it past the guy to have DoorDashed something whilst in the shower.

To make up for the fact that Eddie hadn’t moved, he went for comedy. Looking side to side. “Did I?? God, was this so good I thought I was in my own house? Are we? Where’d you get those?”

Steve tossed the bottles onto the bed, missing Eddie but landing so close they had to be aimed.

“How’d I find the water?” judgment dripped off every syllable.

“Yeah?” Eddie tried, confidence gone. The joke didn’t land. Or maybe it wasn’t formed right. Words were Eddie's thing and it was bullshit even those were failing him. It was going to take more than slaughtering a hot npc to get over this guy when he finally realized what a loser Eddie was.

“You’ll never believe this. I found them in the last place you’d suspect. I poked around all your cupboards and closets but they were in the fridge! So weird.”

Oh, fuck him.

That bitchiness shouldn’t be hot. Why was that so hot? Eddie should have wanted to punch him for it. At least mock him back and crack jokes along with him. Instead, he could almost feel his pupils turning into cartoon hearts.

Who was he turning into? First, adopting a cute little kitten when the least metal name of the lot and now he’s swooning over some guy’s quick but insulting comebacks? Maybe this wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare.

A half-hearted laugh was enough of a reply for Steve.

“And of all places, man, you keep your fridge in the kitchen. It’s been very surprising here.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie groaned, finally finding a good thought.

Steve climbed back into the other side of the bed, nudging the water toward Eddie again. Saying drink this in every way but actually using the words. Also hot.

“What we should talk about is why your fridge makes you look like a serial killer. You’ve got one expired jar of pickles, two of those gross cheese singles, and a case of water. There isn’t even ketchup, man.”

“The liquor is in the freezer,” Eddie said, taking a pause. There was something better to say there.

“With the body parts.” they both said, a few seconds apart.

Steve gave a condescending pat to Eddie’s chest, proud of him for making it to the joke finally. Eddie wanted to roll over on his stomach to put his chin in his hands and kick his feet in the air. This was disgusting. He hadn’t been this head over heels before and as various love songs started to make sense, he watched his dream man scoop up a pillow to make a comfy spot for the cat.

“You also don’t have…anything, like at all, for Mistletoe,” Steve said.

He cracked open a bottle of water and Eddie thought he was going to take a drink, a logical assumption, but again it was pushed towards Eddie. So Eddie pulled himself up to mostly sit as he leaned against the headboard and squirmed the pillows into something comfortable. He drank the offered water, if only for Steve.

Once he did, Steve picked up the other bottle and opened it for himself. He sat with one leg tucked in and the other dangling off the bed, scratching Mistletoe on the head. Eddie was already planning their forever but the wedding date was getting closer and closer. How long did one have to have a marriage license before saying "I do"?

“Well,” Eddie finally countered. Attitude packed in so he didn’t have to admit the water felt amazing and was, actually, very needed. “I thought I’d go in, see if me and Krampus got along, and then I could swing by the pet store on the way home. Hadn’t really expected to pick up anything…one else.”

Steve wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie imagined if they were any younger, he’d pump his fist in the air like he’d scored the winning goal or whatever.

“Not very responsible of you,” Steve’s eyes narrowed, the judgment was nothing compared to the talk of Eddie’s fridge. This was playful and Eddie had an idea of what was going on.

And before he overthought things, Eddie took a chance he was right. “Thing is, I know a guy at the animal shelter and he…lets me do whatever I want.”

There were a few beats where Steve pretended to think. “For a price.”

“I can’t offer much but what I’ve got is yours.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Eddie regretted them. How disgusting and sappy. Steve was probably going to get up and leave. Eddie would. Hell, he wanted to now. Not Steve, though. He leaned forward, which untucked the towel, and stole a kiss.

Soft, passionate, and curled Eddie’s toes. He was still sensitive enough it earned an unfair reaction and it was almost like Steve knew that. He lingered in Eddie's space, smelling of Eddie's soap, and grinning like the devil.

When Steve slowly pulled back and perched back on the edge of the bed, Eddie said, “Not in front of the children.” and reached out to cover Mistletoe’s eyes.

There was an easy and meaningless eye roll thrown his way. "There go my plans then," Steve teased. "Guess you better get dressed so we can go get this little guy some supplies because…I have plans for the night."

[pedriache]

Feel something — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pau knew he shouldn’t like you. You were his best friends sister. Off limits. So why couldn’t he get you out of his head? When it almost came out, not only did you seem to feel the same.. you also rejected him.

Word count: 1.14k

Disclaimer/s: This is going to be a part two and I will link it here when it comes out. Very important to note! Angst.

A/N: thank u enny pooh for coming up w this!

The quiet atmosphere of your living room only lasted until six in the afternoon, when you brother came home from practice or whatever he did that day, and usually accompanied by Pau.

So at five thirty, you chose to finish cleaning and decide on dinner. Since today was Friday, you ordered takeout as that was a routine you and Héctor had grown accustomed to since you both moved into the city together. After much contemplation, you choose pizza and breadsticks. Simple and easy, no going wrong.

While waiting for the food to arrive, you turn the TV on and click on the show you’d been watching recently.

The front door unlocking snapped your attention away, a smiling gracing your lips at the sight of your brother, then to Pau, who was closing the door behind him.

The take out order was in Héctor’s arms, “the guy arrived at the same time as us.” He explains, walking behind the couch to swat at your head like he did every time he came home.

Groaning, you duck and cover your head. “Nice to see you too.” You grumble, twisting around on the couch and climbing over it to reach the kitchen quicker.

Sliding onto one of the stools, you glance Pau’s ways with a grin. “Another slumber party? Seriously? Do your parents not miss you sometimes?”

Rolling his eyes at your teasing tone, Pau slides onto the stool beside you. Both of you watch as Héctor starts to open the pizza and grab plates. “They miss me plenty.”

“Can you guys shut up and eat.” Héctor quips, sliding two plates across the counter for each of you. “What movie did you want to watch?”

Halfway through taking a bite of the pizza, you pull it away. Licking the pizza sauce off your lips, you think for a minute. “Uh, not sure. You choose.”

“I don’t want to choose.” Your brother groans, “I chose last time.”

“Well I chose twice in a row before, so this is us getting equal—“

“Why don’t you just rock, paper, scissors, and figure it out.” Pau interrupts, only to be met either two glares being shot his way. He throws his hands up in defense, “I was just trying to help!”

The innocent look on his face makes you grin slightly, “okay! Why don’t you choose, Pau.”

The boy laughs, “yeah, no. Hard pass.”

“Why do we even have these movie nights if we never know what to watch?” Héctor chimes in, taking a bite of his pizza.

Swallowing your own bite, you huff. “You started this tradition, this is your own fault.”

Half an hour later, you’d all agreed on watching a show, ‘Money Heist’ which Héctor had vehemently argued that it was boring. Which he still seemed to believe as he’d fallen asleep not even twenty minutes into the second episode.

Now it was just you and Pau, alone, sitting on either ends of the sofa. You hated being alone with him, it left you nervous and jittery. Like you didn’t know how to act.

Mindlessly grabbing for more popcorn, the bowl in the middle cushion for easy access for both you and Pau, you feel a hand, his hand, graze yours.

Jerking it back, you send him an uneasy smile. Fingers tingling at the slight touch. “Sorry.” You whisper, waiting for him to grab his own handful. Even though, now you didn’t feel very hungry.

“It’s okay, you first.” He insists, motioning toward the bowl. When you shake your head, his eyebrows knit together. “Okay…” He says slowly, taking a handful of the popcorn.

When you don’t reach for yours, he examines your expression. “Are you okay? You look a little… nauseous.”

“Fine! I’m fine! Just fine.” You were too quick to speak, face flushing. “Not very hungry anyways.”

Pau nods hesitantly, plopping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. But his mind stays on you, your weird behavior, your jerky move after you touched. He could be thinking too much into it, but maybe you did like him back. Maybe. He shouldn’t even be pondering this, you were his best friend’s sister. There’s an unspoken rule, siblings were off limits.

But he had to try, Héctor was more understanding than most.

He says your name softly, gaining your attention. Your head snaps toward him, “what?” You ask. He’d spoken so quietly, you weren’t even sure he said it.

“How was school?” He chickened out. He completely chickened out! Internally groaning to himself, he takes a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth to distract himself.

A small chuckle escapes past your lips, “since when do you care about school, let alone how it’s going for me?” Pausing the TV, you glance at him curiously.

Pau’s eyebrows scrunch together, “what do you mean? I’ve always cared, when it came to you that is. Couldn’t care less about the school part.” Was he being obvious? Was that too obvious?

“Oh!” Is all you could get out. He cared, when it came to you. Which could mean nothing, I mean, seriously. There was no way he felt that way toward you. He was Héctor’s friend and sure, you liked him, but you didn’t expect anything from it.

“Sorry, was that too much?” He asks through a shy huff of breath. His eyes darting toward his hands in his lap, now empty of the popcorn now.

“No!” You say quickly, “no, it’s fine. Uhm, school’s going alright. It’s just boring and uneventful.”

Pau nods in understanding, “usually is. Seeing anyone?” He was trying to be subtle, but you caught on. Your lips twitching in an attempt to suppress a grin.

“Nope! You?”

“Nope.” There’s a beat, a bit of silence till Pau speaks again, “good, good.”

“Good?” You laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean?” Oh, but you knew. Your fingers picking at the fuzz on your blanket. You’d thought about this for years. This exact moment, but now you realize it shouldn’t be happening. You couldn’t feel these things, no matter how much you wanted to.

Your eyes flicker to Héctor who was fast asleep on the lounge chair a few feet away.

“Never mind, don’t answer that.” You clear your throat, “I should get to bed.”

Pau’s mouth falls agape, “already?” He was utterly and completely confused. You’d changed your mind that quickly, and he had no idea why.

Standing up and tossing your blanket over your shoulder, you can’t bring yourself to look at the boy. “Héctor is my brother, and you are his best friend. And it’s wrong. Very wrong. So. Good night, Pau.”

Leaving him confused and upset, you make your hasty retreat back toward your bedroom. But still, you couldn’t figure out if you’d just done the both of you a favor, or ruined something that could’ve been really, really good.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Love on the brain

Ch 2.

Series Master list

CW: check the main master list for warnings.

It has been three days since the fight you had with your husband. During that time, the police interviewed you, asking if you would like to press charges. You were on the fence but, in the end, decided not to go through with it. There was an inkling of hope that him having the cops called with the threat of ruining his career would be enough to get that damn divorce and from there you'd figure it the fuck out. The clinic had given you information on domestic violence and different hot lines to call for help. There was the option of going to a women's shelter but you weren't going to put your children through that indignity. All three of them have had enough of that.

Kenny's mother had come by the house on day two. She had with her a roast and a sorry apology on behalf of her son. The woman was detestable, who could raise a man so cruel and then say “Maybe if you did your wifely duties right, he wouldn't act this way.” After she said that Kenny would stay at her house and that she would bring the pastor and him by so everyone could come to Jesus.

It had taken every ounce of your being not to swing on her. If you stayed, you were sure you'd be meeting Jesus face to face, so that he could ask you “Child, why didn't you take the boat we sent you?”.

At the same time, though, you knew you were in a rock and a hard place. You and your children were immigrants. You were a stay at home mom, which in hindsight was stupid. Until you knew for certain how you were going to house and feed your kids, you were stuck because money was a thing, and children couldn't live off of hope and love.

“Mom!” Jabari came running into the kitchen, he was out of breath and had a big fat grin on his face. “Mr Price is at the door!”

You stopped chopping the celery for dinner and wiped your hands on your apron. John Price had been nice enough to come to you and your family's rescue three days ago, and you felt bad that you didn't have the time to thank him. You peaked out the back door window to check on the girls, both of them happily playing with dolls together. Jada was busy trying to explain to Jayla the little storyline that was being played out, and Jayla was only too happy to just be included. After making sure they were okay, you followed the sounds of Jabari excitedly chattering away by the door.

“Actually Mr.Price, I'm like the best when it comes to rugby. It's sorta like football except without the padding!” Jabari laughed.

“You play football?” John had asked.

“The American football, sir.” He answered, “but honestly, I'll play any sport as long as it has a ball. I tried to get mom to let me play hockey once, but she said her pockets could only take so much.”

“Jabari, don't have this man thinking we're poor.” You scold as you scruff him by the neck. Your voice doesn't match the scolding, though. You sound absolutely smitten by your son and how he's in a good mood again. The last three days, he's been hovering around you and his sisters and insisting that you all should sleep in the same bed. He only wiggles out of your grip and laughs.

“Run along so the adults can talk.” You tell him.

“But mom” He whines loudly, holding onto your arm.

“Listen soldier,” John smiles at him, “how about you give me and your mum a few minutes and after I'll get the guys to play a game with you, your choice.”

Jabari doesn't need to be told twice, and he is dashing off to his room, saying that he is gonna teach the Brits about real football. You only laugh and shake your head before turning to John. Your body feels warm from embarrassment, which is more like shame, to be honest. Shame that he had seen you and your children at your lowest, and that was his first time meeting you.

“Uhm…” You search for the words, the right words that convey how thankful you are. “Listen, thank you for-.”

He stops you before any more words could be said, “You don't need to thank me for doing the right thing, miss.” His eyes, so pretty and blue and surprisingly warm. When was the last time you even had someone look at you with such warmth and understanding?

You can't bear to hold his gaze any longer, and you look away. “John, I have to pay you and your friends back for intervening. It would make me feel okay.”

He doesn't say anything else and just hums once. “Is he coming back?”

You don't say anything and cross your arms around your stomach. You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. When the silence is loud and clear, you expect judgment. Instead, he just hums in thought again.

“I never got your name miss.” He says.

“It's Imani.” You finally look back at him. He's now leaning against the frame of the doorway, a thoughtful look on him. John nods his head once and smiles. There's still no judgment.

“Well, I want to leave you my number and the boys’ number so you can call us no matter what.” He's already pulling out his phone.

“Oh, John, I couldn't-” You're shocked, that's for sure.

“No choice, Miss.” He is firm on this decision, and somehow that makes you flustered. “I already spoke to the guys, and we very much want to make sure you and the kids are safe, at least until the bloke is handled for good.” His voice drops low at the mention of your husband.

You don't say anything else as you pull your old little phone out from your apron pocket and let him input his number and his roommates numbers into your phone. He then gets your number just as Jabari comes running back to the front door. He's got his football, and he's pulling on John's hand to take him to the backyard.

“Come on Mr.Price!” Jabari is insistent, “we just gotta make sure we stay out of Jada and Jayla's play party. The girls get testy when you bother them.” He laughed.

“Sure thing, soldier, just let me call the guys over, and we can get to it.” He looks to you asking for permission.

You only nod with a smile, “I don't mind, stay out of my flower beds…” you bite your lip between your teeth, deciding to take a risk, “We're having chicken and dumplings tonight, you all can stay over for dinner.”

John is clearly surprised, but Jabari is already answering for him. “Yeah, Mr. Price and his friends would love to stay!”

“Jabari.” You warn, but your son is already pulling John along to the back kitchen door.

As soon as the two of them were outside, your son could be heard yelling over the fence. “Don't worry about the front door, Mr.Johnny, just hop the fence!”

“I hope that boy doesn't make it a habit of hopping the fence.” You mumble and get back to working on dinner.

When dinner comes, your dining room table has the leaf put in, and four extra chairs pulled up. Each one of the very solid men at the table is covered in grass stains and is laughing (well ¾) with your children about the impromptu football game.

“You really are quick on your feet.” Kyle says to Jabari, “you must be a right terror on the field.”

“Jabari is quick because mom says that he got his speed from out running Nana's switch.” Jada is busy sitting her doll in Simon's lap, ignoring her brother's squawks of protest, “you two have to share a seat since that's where Anni normally sits.”

Simon, to his credit, takes it all in stride and only grunts in agreement. He isn't wearing the skull mask from before, just a plain black one. It's ridiculous really, seeing him hold the raggedy Anne doll so politely.

“So Imani lass, ya’ve been here for a few months, ya likin’ it's far?” Johnny (who, for some reason, Jabari has been allowed to call Soap).

You bring out the large pot as he's asking this and set it down on the table, “I like it so far, but doing any type of conversion for temperature, shopping and my personal enemy asking for tea and getting hot tea and not cold has been an adjustment.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow, “Cold tea?” There's a look of something on his face. It's the same look you get from Kenny's mother when you put ice in a cup and poor hot sugary tea over it.

By this time, Jabari had brought out the two pitchers of iced tea and set them on the table. “Well duh, how else are you supposed to drink tea?”

“Manners love.” You pinch your brows together, “don't forget he's still an adult.”

“Yes ma'am.” He says and takes his spot right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Kid's alright.” Kyle laughs, “I forgot for a moment that Americans do tea differently.”

You smile and avoid eye contact with him, “The fact that we are having chicken and dumplings with corn muffins should say everything about my thoughts on hot tea versus cold tea.”

“Daddy says when you make tea, mommy, it's enough to give a man diabetes.” Jada pipes up again.

“Sugar in a cup.” Jayla whispers, it's so quiet she giggles.

Everyone is laughing at your exasperated sigh and look that you give your daughters. The cultural differences are cute and funny, and as you look around your table, there comes a sense of peace. It feels for a moment that this is a normal family dinner with which the neighbors just happened to stop by. All the fellas got along just well learning touch football and in a hilarious turn of events Simon was the one roped into the game of tea party.

You're sad that this isn't your reality.

“You all have a good night, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything.” John said as he and his boys left the house. He was pleasantly surprised when Jabari was asking if they could play again soon, and the next time, they would play soccer.

“Aye, it's called football ya wee terror.” Soap had ruffled his hair.

“Well you're on American soil when you're at our house, and we call it soccer!” He ducked from under the man's hand. He was all smiles.

You shook your head and looked back at John, “I will, and thanks again for everything. Jada let Mr. Simon go so he can go home, I don't think he wants to babysit Anni, so you can have me time tonight.”

Poor Simon was bogged down with a pink backpack, a baby's bottle, and a pink stroller. Jada crossed her arms and stared up at you, “But Mr. John just said we could call them! You get me time every time Daddy leaves, why can't I?”

“Okay! Enough talking young ma'am, in the house!” You laugh nervously. You can feel the tension and shame creeping up your spine, but mercifully, none of the men comment on the mention of ‘me time’. After you send your son and daughter into the house, the only one clinging to you is Jayla. Her big wide brown eyes are staring up at John and flickering between him, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon. She waves shyly before darting back into the house.

“I don' mind keeping her doll for the night.” it's the first time that Simon has spoken all evening. You are taken back by both his accent and how deep his voice is.

“Really you-” you begin to say, but he's already taking the doll and all of the doll's things across the lawn. Johnny is cackling, and Kyle is just pinching the bridge of his nose. They both bid you goodnight. John gives you one last lingering smile and a nod.

“Get some rest tonight.” His voice is warm, and it's sweet like the tea that he politely drank at dinner without complaint. They all didn't complain about the dinner and rather enjoyed it quite a bit. It was a far cry from how your husband often critiqued (if calling some of the nastiest things said about your cooking can be called as such).

You watch until John is in his house across the lawn. The fantasy is over and you're hoping to enter that dream-like world again.

“Lass can cook. A shame she cooks fora bastard.” Soap says as he plops down on the couch. “Her weans are ‘dorable though.”

“Jabari can sure dish out a hit.” Kyle sat on the couch next to Soap and put his head in his lap, “that last tackle may have given me a bruise.”

John quietly listens to the guys as they talk about you. There's a thoughtful look on his face as he watches Simon carefully put the doll and its things on the armchair.

Simon looks at him just as he is taking off his mask. “Something on your mind?”

“She isn't leaving him anytime soon.” John goes into the kitchen.

“After he almost tried to kill her three days ago, she isn't leaving?” Kyle seems incredulous.

“It's not that simple.” Simon explains, “She's a foreigner with children, in a strange country, and she is a stay at home mum who depends on her husband's income. She can't leave unless she knows for sure her children will be safe.” Part of Simon feels ill with first hand knowledge of that reality.

It's quiet between the four of them, John speaks first, “We'll just have to help her.” He is ready thinking about how this will all play out if done right. If you're gonna be tied to anybody in a foreign country, it may as well be him and his boyfriends.

You don't know it yet, but the four of them are getting you out safely. And you're going to be safe in their arms.

Chapter 3

Tag list: @leahnicole1219 @uraeus56

[conniesministallion]

☆☆𝓘𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉2☆☆

Warnings: Violence! (Rafe/Ward)(Rafe/JJ) Angst!

Pairing: Rafe x Black reader

This is Rafe's POVs

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

I cant believe I'm sitting here looking at this man's bald ass head again. Granted I am too but still we both look older than we are. I guess that helps with dealing to older customers. Selling this shit to kooks isn't as easy as selling to pogues. I know I shouldn't be but who the hell is gonna help me when things get hard besides her.

Sofia is eh..ya know somebody, she's help, very caring and optimistic but she still doesn't compare to her.

She however helps me figure shit out, calms me down, she's smart and understands the shit I go through. Plus, besides Barry she doesn't judge the shit I do.

Grabbing the kilo off of the small brown table in front of me. I start packaging it up for the next party we're about to throw at Topper's. He's paying too, especially after we almost got busted last time from some punk who was mad about paying for all the coke he was doing that night.

Turns out his dad is a cop,

That i've already sold to twice.

But of course I had to make an example so I beat his ass.

" Yo, the rest is in the trunk let's just sell this shit and bounce when it's over. I got shit to do, plus I have to get your girl from work." Barry says as he peeks behind the screen door.

Standing up and glaring towards him as I grab my keys, " Not my girl bro just someone I keep around."

" Ya okay country club whatever you say, I don't even treat my best piece like that."

This mf, I swear. Sofia is nothing but a smart lil girl I keep around for a good time. Honestly, it was easy. I mean she's still new to the island and she hasn't been out much. I'm just practicing being a nice person.

I bump past him and head toward the car, tossing the last kilo I had in his arms.

"Shut up and come on".

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

I'm sitting here staring at the last message I sent SIX HOURS AGO. Why the hell hasn't she texted me back. This lil girl got me messed up. I know she seen when I asked why Maybank's ass isn't blocked. Realizing I'm shaking I send her another message before I'm interrupted but a high pitch voice.

Soulmate: Stop ignoring me mama and block him. I wanna see the screen recording too.

"Why aren't you paying attention to me Rafey?" Sofia whined to me grabbing my arm and resting her cheek on my bicep.

Sofia. Sofia. Sofia.

So cute, but so very annoying and very fucking clingy. She's not the one I want to cling to me. The one I want is ignoring me on an island where she probably has a boyfriend waiting for her. Just thinking about it is pissing me the fuck off.

" I'm too busy selling Sofia, I got you when I get done. Meanwhile, you wanna line or are you just drinking tonight?"

She starts batting her little eyelashes up at me , "Just drinking but I will have a little line if you don't mine doing it for me."

I sat my phone on the white couch underneath me and grab my black card to start the line for her. I only do Y/N's lines and that's only when she's drinking. Two for one night and only on occasions cuz I'll be damned if my baby end up like how I was. I love her way too much to sit and let that shit happen but her puppy eyes are so cute and we ended up coming up to an agreement.

Two lines every three months, not every party and not every time she gets drunk. I'll know if she gets it from somewhere else but she knows better than to try that shit.

" Here Sofia, it's ready let me know when you want some more." I handed her a rolled up bill and getting up the go talk to Barry.

I already sold my portion and the rest was for the three of us to share when he gets done with his. Topper is talking to Kelce and some red haired chick I've seen around in a corner.

Making my way downstairs and into the living room I spot Barry talking to someone on Facetime while handing a baggie to some dude in a red polo setting his money in the pile on the table.

" It's all good baby, you'll be home soon right? You want me to let him know or you want to just stay with me?"

" I'll come over yours first and we can just go back to his together." The other voice on the phone sounding familiar.

Who the hell is he talking to? I know he doesn't have a girlfriend so the hell??

"Yo who's that? Are you done selling or what?" I sat on the couch next to him and start counting the money in my pocket

"It's ya bestie boo or whatever the hell girly shit she be saying." he said chuckling and handing me the phone.

" Hi baby, I miss you. Even tho you kinda trippin at the moment." Y/n says. Fuck she's so damn cute, I miss her too but why hell didn't she text me back. And why the hell did she call Barry and not me.

" Hey mama, I miss you too but why you ain't texting me back." I ask her.

"I did text you back baby and I sent your toxic ass evidence." She said rolling her eyes at me.

I'm acting shocked knowing damn well.

" I'm not toxic mama just protective and I didn't see the message yet. When you coming home?" I asked her setting the phone on the table to lean against the wad of cash.

" I'm coming back tomorrow love, have my room ready please? Or yours it really doesn't matter. Barry is staying with us by the way, we'll let you know the details later yeah?"

I sit back crossing my arms across my chest and look at Barry. " So when were you gonna tell me about this plan?" I asked him

He shrugged back and took a sip of his drink. " She wanted me to wait until she got back bro my bad."

Before I could respond I feel someone putting their face on my neck. Looking back I see Sofia. Fuck. I haven't told either of them about each other.

" Who's that Rafey your cousin or something?" She said, looking over my shoulder.

I shrug her off and before I even respond, I see Y/n's face turned up and frowning.

" Cousin, oh lord baby. Of course, you got a new one while I was away. Just make sure my room is ready please love and thank you." She says rolling her eyes as she puts her suitcase down in front of her bed.

" I gotchu mama don't worry see you tomorrow. Say bye to Barry baby." I turn the phone towards him as he waves.

She waved back and smiles hanging up the phone. Rubbing my hands down my face and handing him his phone back.

He smirks and giggles at me clearly being entertained with the situation.

" She's gonna fuck you up country club." Laughing as he threw his head back laughing.

" I'm already knowing."

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

<3 <3 <3

A/N: YAAAAAA second part kinda nervous yall lol.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

We Put The World Away (We Get So Disconnected)

tw/ cursing,mention of anxiety

“babe.”

You call gently to hasan, a room away. The walls are thin and the apartment is shitty, but it’s your shared space with him, and that’s all that matters.

“Yeah, birdie?”

You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are you streaming tonight?”

You don’t have to ask-five times a week, on the dot, hasan is streaming and last time, he promised one with you-you two known as friends (“Only friends, chat. Don’t make it weird.” he’ll say, roll his eyes, hope they don’t see the pink rising in his face)

And last week was the promised stream with you.

It held more weight than hasan wants to admit. It’s not that you two don’t want to be public. But you’ve both seen the way couples are treated, how everything is dissected-you both figure it’s for the best.

You two are both known for being local, living close by each other and having a friendly completive streak going in various games-hasan teased your appearance by saying he’s finally going to break the winning streak you’ve had.

And it’s been fun, until now.

Living together, in this shitty apartment, you two have gone out of your way to make it not obvious that it’s the same apartment; hasan frantically muting his stream and acting like it was an accident to text you because you were singing while you were cooking (“Birdie, as much as i love your singing,” he texts, “i’m live.”)

Or when he almost came into your room while searching for his wallet, or phone or anything he accidentally sets down-

He pops his head in, his hand resting on the doorframe, “Gonna go live in five minutes. That okay, birdie?”

You nod, practically rolling out of bed until hasan comes to your side, his hand on the side of your face as he lifts your head up to gently kiss your forehead.

“Don’t forget your emotional support blanket,” He teases, his fingers weaving into yours, is quicker than you as he leans back and grabs it, throws it over his own shoulder, “Come on.”

He leads to the bedroom, as if it isn’t yours as well, and starts making his way to his set up, turning the computer on and getting the camera right, as you try and make things right.

The little things, the ones he’d forget easily.

Picture frames line the walls and the dresser, that you either shove in drawers or flip over. The two of you with your faces pressed together, a darker picture of you two by the fire outside-

Next goes the small collection of things people probably wouldn’t pick up on, but your anxiety says you have to get rid of it; the pressed flowers that were given dates and dates ago, or the newest bouquet of flowers he picked from the little garden on the side of the house, the shelf in the corner of odds and ends he brought home from traveling; paper straw wrappers he twisted into rings, bottle caps from various beers-

shoved into drawers, into your pockets, anywhere else-and hasan is laughing, drags a chair up to the computer, taps it twice.

“C’mon, Birdie.”

He whistled after, some bird call you haven’t thought to ask about, that goes hand and hand with the nickname he gave you after he caught you singing in the kitchen.

(“I’m not the singer, hasan.” You’d say, your face bright red as you stirred pancake batter, the sun barely shining through the windows that early.

“Nonsense,” He says, “You’re a better singer than me.”

You roll your eyes but your face is red as he takes your hand and spins you around, “Birdie,” He says, and it’s final in that moment, “I think i’ll call you birdie, my singer. They sing it so well, better than I could.”)

“No birdie.” you remind him gently, and it’s not that deep, but you hate having to tell him not to call you by this nickname.

He nods once, serious, “No birdie.”

And his hand cups the back of your head as he brings your head closer to his, kisses your forehead. “Alright, Let’s do it. I’m right here, okay?”

You nod once.

You’ve done this. This is your entire job too, but people are mean, and brave especially through a computer screen and you aren’t entirely ready for two straight hours of having to ignore frantic messages about dating.

His hand slips under the desk, into your hand and his fingers weave into yours as he goes live.

The stream goes good, somehow.

hasan has to bite back a few birdies, a few pet names, and you almost give away too much lore with the two do you, too much that will make it known you two are more than friends.

And you two almost get away with it.

Almost.

hasan stumbles out of bed as his alarm goes off, is suppose to stream in ten minutes-didn’t plan on sleeping in this late but was so comfortable next to you, so warm-

“Fuck.”

You don’t think much of it. Wrap the blankets further around you before you throw it over your head, the sun too bright, and snuggle into his warm spot as he leans down, a kiss on your forehead as he hops around to get his jeans on.

“Chat!” He says the second the stream starts, “Listen, I know i’m late-“

You’re use to hearing him talk. it’s comfortable at this time, helps you lull back to sleep, a safety blanket-

When it’s finally time to get up, you don’t think much of it.

Throw the blanket off, tap around on the nightstand until your fingers collide with your glasses and you shove them over your face and hair lien that it happens quick-

“Fuck, fuck-“

hasan frantically tries to adjust the camera as he talks, “No chat, we aren’t together-“

You duck as you try and leave the room as you hear him talking, “No chat, for fucks sake. It was two in the morning. i’m not going to let them drive home-“

And it almost blows over. Everything is almost in the clear.

Until the next day.

Your day to stream, and you immediately are muting people mentioning hasan, or his bed, or anything to do with him and frankly- you think everything is going fine, like you almost fooled them-

a message comes through chat: is that his shirt???

and you think you’re in the clear, didn’t read it out loud but you did look down right after, gently pull at the shirt and holy fuck-it’s laundry day and naturally, you went for one of his shirts, old and worn with age, but definitely known for wearing it on stream, even wearing his damn flannel-you take the flannel off and throw it across the room in hopes it shuts everyone up.

A week passes.

hasan thinks it’s hilarious; says “They’re not my type.” with a smirk and an eye roll but his eyes are mischievous and you can tell he enjoys every second of it.

You two stream together again. And it goes fine, if anything-he wins, and your winning streak is gone and he’s gloating as he ends the stream, turns to you.

“I think we have them fooled, birdie.” He smiles widely, “No one’s the wiser.”

His finger under your chin as he pulls you close for a kiss.

your quiet for a second, a smile on your face as your eyes slowly trail to the computer, where the red light is still on, stream still going.

“hasan, you idiot. It’s still going. Stream is still going!”

He fumbles, and it’s heard, as he turns the camera back on, “Just kidding, chat!”

He makes sure it’s off, looks to you with his face red: “That was a close one.”

And he pulls you in for a kiss, like he got away with something.

[siriuslyshouldislytherin]

Two Halves of a Whole

(Part 1)

Pairing: Sirius Black × Potter!reader

Summary : Y/N Euphemia Potter is the younger child to Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. James introduces Y/N to his gang on the very first day of her school. As years pass , Sirius Black , James' best mate starts falling hard for his best mate's sister. Will she feel the same or will it be a one-sided love story ? Read more to find out.

A/N: PS: I am gonna publish this in 10 or so parts spanning over the 7 years of their Hogwarts education. I will post the link to the next part in this part when I publish it. So do check it out.

Warning : mostly fluff , James being protective , and a little angst between James and Sirius , Remus being a brotherly figure to the reader.

Navigation / Part 1 / Part 2

The Potters'

The name was embedded in red and gold on the wooden plate which was hung on the front door of the house.

Inside , lived two children , James and Y/N with their parents , Fleamont and Euphemia.

Fleamont and Euphemia were proud parents to both their kids. James being the elder one of the two , Y/N being the younger one.

Fleamont and Euphemia were way more protective towards Y/N as she was a premature baby and fragile at birth. She had been in the New-born care unit in St. Mungo's for a total of two months before her mother and father had brought her home. Back then , Euphemia had cried onto Fleamont's shoulder everytime she saw her little one in a little glass box , her body inserted with tubes.

Once , James had seen this and since that very moment , he had made a mental note to himself , always protecting his sister and being her guardian angel.

"Mum ! Dad ! Jamie ! Where are you all ?" She asked around the house.

Upon no response , she entered the living room only to get startled by the sudden burst of confetti on her.

"Happy birthday Niff !" James ruffled her hair and brought her into a bear hug.

"Happiest birthday , Little one !" Her mother and father wished her at the same time.

She freed herself from James and thanked him as she went to her parents to give them their fair share of hugs.

"Thanks mum ! Thanks dad !" She exclaimed.

Fleamont and Euphemia started peppering kisses all over her face as she giggled.

~time skip~

"Niff , you have to walk straight through the barrier and you will find yourself on the platform. Look at me and James , how we do it , then you can follow us with your mother. Alright ?"

"Yes dad. " She looked at her mother who , in turn , gestured her to look at her brother and father.

Y/N walked through the barrier with her mother as she stood on the Platform 9¾ with her trunk in the trolley and her owl Ozwald hooting happily in the cage.

Her head snapped at the voice of the sound of a trunk getting loaded onto the train , when she saw James and Fleamont load James' trunk onto the train.

She picked her trunk and started walking towards the train , trying to not fall flat on her face. Her mother wasn't very happy with Y/N dragging her trunk on her own because apparently , according to Euphemia , 'The Trunk is too big for Y/N. '

"Let us help you , dear. " Fleamont requested her as James scuttled over the the other side , to help her.

"I can - help myself - dad !" She dropped her trunk onto the train and heaved a sigh of relief.

Y/N heard the train horn as other students gradually boarded the train.

"Now come and give your old mum-dad a hug !" James and Y/N ran towards their parents as she said ," you aren't old mum-dad. "

Fleamont and Euphemia both took Y/N to the side as they crouched down to her eye level.

"Mum ! Dad ! Don't cry now. Else I will cry and then Jamie will never let me live through it !"

"My baby is finally going to Hogwarts !" Euphemie wiped away her tears.

Y/N gave both of them a kiss on their cheeks and went off towards the train.

Euphemia and Fleamont turned to James.

"James , take care of your sister. Never leave her alone and most importantly write to us twice a week. "

"Don't you worry , mum and dad. I will always be there for her. " James smiled at them as both of them hugged the boy and he ran towards the train.

"Niff , stick to me. No loitering around. "

"Why ?" She whined.

"Because I say so. "

"But you are going to find your friends and have fun with them. So let me find kids of my age. "

"I am going to include you in all the fun I do. Besides my friends are gonna be just an year elder than you. So do as I say. "

James pulled his trunk down the corridor and entered the 2nd compartment.

Y/N followed him as she saw her brother and 3 other boys hugging each other.

"Come in , Niff ! These are my friends. Remus Lupin , Peter Pettigrew and -"

"Sirius Black. " A boy with jet black hair stretched his hand forward for Y/N to shake but James glared at him , causing him to pull his hand back.

"I am -"

"Y/N Euphemia Potter. " The three boys spoke together.

"You know about me ?"

"Ofcourse. We know everything about you. That - that how - dear -"

"How much of a pain you are - for me to handle !" James said just to tease her.

"Jamie !"

"Oh no ! Absolutely not ! He loves you so much that he can write a bloody Encyclopedia on you." Sirius said.

"Can you really turn a matchstick into a needle ?"

"Oh yes I can. " Remus said to her as her jaw dropped literally on the floor.

"Can you perhaps show me how to do it ?"

"Yeah sure !" Remus pulled out a matchstick out of his pocket as he did a fair bit of wand work and turned it into a needle.

"Jamie !! Did you see it ?"

"Calm Niff. It is about few months that you can do it too. "

She looked at the four of them with a very excited expression , her and Sirius's gaze lingering for a bit longer.

As she wanted to do it on her own , she insisted Remus to teach her.

"No ! It doesnt work for me !" She whined.

"You're doing it a bit more aggressively , Niff !" Remus said.

"What did you say , Lupin ?" James said turning at Remus.

"What ?" Remus deadpanned.

"Only I get to call her Niff !"

"Stop entering your overprotective brother mode , Jamie !"

They quarelled for a few more minutes as Sirius looked at her with a grin on his face. Peter noticed that and said ," Stop smiling Sirius. They're fighting. "

Sirius snapped out of his trance as he looked between both of them and said ,"I wasnt smiling , Peter. "

~time skip~

"James , I think it is about time you should change into school uniform. "

"There still is half an hour. " James said.

"James , mate she is right. Even I have changed. "

James thought about it for a moment before standing up ," if you say so. " He fetched his clothes and headed out of the door.

"This is not going to end well. Think about it again. "

"Remus , don't be a spoilsport. This is just a prank. " Sirius spoke.

The prank they were going to play was a silly little one - as per Sirius and Y/N. Sirius was going to have his arm around Y/N's shoulder and mutter something in her ear as she was supposed to giggle and look at him.

"Sorry mate , got late -" James stood shaken as he saw Sirius and Y/N sitting in such close proximity , his arm flung over Y/N's shoulder as she giggled looking at him.

James took two steps towards Sirius and grabbed him by the collar.

"I-told-you-not-to-go-near-her -"

"Stop it , James ! Leave him and first look at your sister. "

James turned around as soon as he heard Remus only to find Y/N standing between Remus and Petter and hyperventilating due to crying.

"Niff ! Don't cry. I am here and I am not angry on you ! " He stepped towards her as her figure grew smaller , holding onto Remus out of fear.

"James , sit down. Sirius , you too - Y/N sit and have this. " She looked up , at him and accepted the piece of chocolate he gave her.

Y/N looked at Sirius and mouthed him a 'I'm sorry' and he returned it with an assuring nod , mouthing her 'are you okay ?'. She in-turn mouthed him a Yes.

When the train came to a halt on the Hogmeade station , their trunks unloaded , James turned to her and said ," I'm sorry , Niff. I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. But you know how I am when it comes to you. I'm so so so sorry. "

"It's okay , Jamie. Talk to Sirius. Okay ?"

She gave him a smile and followed Hagrid as she was waiting for the Hogwarts doors to open for her , waiting for a whole new world which was filled with fun , excitement and ofcourse - studies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banners and dividers aren't mine. The credits go to @cafekitsune. Thanks a lot for these banners. They helped me a lot.

Taglist :

@gaminggirlsstuff @turvi @dramaisthelifebloodofgoodstories

[incesthemes]

happy (late) wincest wednesday!! what do you think sam and dean's favourite books are? which books do you think they would have inexplicable (or explicable) beef with?

i'm sure after moving around twice a month for fifteen years and having to read the same books over and over again gave them a few rivalries, lol! -lizzy :)

omg happy wincest wednesday thursday!!!! thank you, this is such an awesome prompt.

ok i think they've both probably read a lot of classic lit and stuff from the literary canon because it's the kind of thing you can find anywhere, right? it's always available in some form or another, at school or in libraries or even just as movie adaptions.

based on vibes i really want to say dean's favorite book would be on the road, both for the metatextual nod to mister eric kripke and because i think dean would relate to it (well, obviously)—and the main character is dean too :) it's cute :) i also think he'd be really into westerns; the one i've read the most of is the titus bass series by terry c. johnston so while it's not quite what i imagine dean's tastes to be (too historically accurate, too little heroism) i'll go with that one. rough, gun-slinging action and lawless heroes are right up dean's alley. the trashier, the better.

on the other end of the spectrum, i see sam being quite into gothic literature. it's relatable to his feelings of exclusion and otherness, and like any child trapped inside a horrific queer narrative i think he would relate heavily to the monsters haunting the protagonists. i can see him really liking frankenstein especially, and i also definitely think he'd have a thing for kafka. it's horrible of me, but i also think he'd be drawn to rosemary's baby, imagining (subconsciously or not) his own mother as rosemary.

importantly, i think they'd both be most drawn to narratives they see themselves in, and i think they'd be rather disinterested in stories they can't directly relate back to their lives. as a result, they probably have a LOT of overlap in the books they enjoy, but the differences are marked and striking to an almost concerning degree. nevertheless i do think they've read through a great deal of the literary canon even if they don't personally love it, simply because it's what they can get their hands on. i can definitely see dean enjoying long, heroic epics like the iliad or beowulf, while sam has certainly read dante's divine comedy cover to cover (and of course, then they switch and read the other's pick, now hundreds of miles away from the library they stole the books from).

i really want them to have some kind of ongoing discourse about east of eden in particular, just because of HOW many similarities there are between cal/dean and aron/sam. i'm trying to figure out how to articulate the nature of that discourse (dean thinks it's just like them fr fr and sam insists it's not? the other way around, perhaps—though i can't see that as clearly. perhaps a simple debate as to whether it applies to them, or which generation they see themselves in most) but i really need to see something like that.

i think sam would definitely have petty beef with supernatural stories when they get the monster lore wrong. "we already KNOW what they do, how can you be THIS wrong about it???? open a book, dumbass," and the like. dean just thinks it's awesome no matter what (as long as the monsters are the bad guys) and they definitely bicker about it incessantly. on the flip side, dean would probably turn up his nose at gothic lit quite a bunch when the monsters are portrayed sympathetically (hello again frankenstein) and would, with his best Big Brother Voice, talk down to sam about the shit propaganda he's reading. sam in turn calls him an idiot in his best Little Brother Voice and doubles down on whatever he's reading. (naturally, the conflict here is that sam sees himself as the monster and therefore sympathizes with it, whereas dean sees "sympathetic monster" and shuts down entirely via john's unquestionable training. i can't imagine dean as a kid being able to comprehend the idea of sam viewing himself as wrong or bad in any way, so the thought of sam relating to the monster simply doesn't compute.)

anyway yeah THANK YOU for this ask, i LOVE well-read and self-educated winchesters so much 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Twice now I have tried to make a reblog reply about Walter and twice now Tumblr has eaten it. So let's try it this way @chaos-bringer-13

Allow me to take you back to the ✨QUARANTINE DAYS✨ and tell you the tale of a pumpkin that may or may not have housed a god

So back in good old 2020/21 we are in the thrall of the COVID-19 pandemic. My state in particular had super heavy quarantine restrictions, and as someone with lung issues, my mom and myself were not taking any chances. I haven't left my house in maybe 5 months. Nor have I seen any of my friends outside of video calls. Senior year of High School so far has sucked.

I'm talking to my friend, we'll call her Marie, and I mention off hand "Yeah I'm starting to feel a bit lonely." Now Marie has known me for a solid 8 years at this point. She knows my type of humor and attachment to what we would now and days call "skrungly" objects. She decides "hmm. I can fix this!"

Marie's mom (who was... certainly a human being) for some god forsaken reason decided to buy a white pumpkin and give it to Marie with the idea that she would harvest the seeds from it and plant them in the garden (why she did this instead of just buying pumpkin seeds I will never know). Instead of doing this, Marie takes this pumpkin and draws a realistic face on it that can only be described as similar to the handsome squidward meme. She drives to my house, sets the pumpkin on my doorstep with a note, and then FUCKING BOOKS IT.

I open the door to see this pumpkin with a note that reads "Hello Momther, I am Walter."

(Not the best photo but this is in fact Walter sitting in the dark in my front yard while Marie (not pictured) stands on my driveway holding a single candle and chanting).

Anyway immediately I take him inside completely smitten and unknowing as to what this pumpkin will create.

At this point of quarantine, we have gone back to classes but they are completely online. I decide that the best thing I could possibly do with Walter is set him on a stack of notebooks behind me so that when I turn my camera on he would be there... watching. Notably, one guy who never unmuted himself did so just long enough to ask "Void... what the fuck is that."

Needless to say I got endless entertainment from the reactions, but all good things have to come to an end. Unfortunately, I live in a desert and pumpkins simply don't survive. They typically would rot within a few days where I was living at the time, so my Mom told me to move it outside at least. I decide to put him by the front door. This front door has a little half wall that leads up to it. I put him on top of it facing the walkway so whenever a package is delivered the mailman would be faced with Walter and have to make eye contact before leaving the mail. I figure I'll probably get a couple more days out of him before he rots.

This is where it starts to get weird

Another week passes. Two. Unlike every single pumpkin I've ever had for Halloween, Walter shows no signs of rotting despite being exposed to the elements. The pumpkin is at this point about a month and a half old and still perfectly fine. Marie, our friends, and I all kind of laugh it off as a random one time thing and expect it to rot within another week.

IT. FUCKING. DOESN'T.

4 months into having Walter and he is still as good as new. Around this time the vaccines for covid started rolling out, so my friends and I get to see each other again. They are just as baffled as me about Walter. Of course, us being us, we have been referring to Walter like an actual person this whole time because that's just our humor. We give him little head pats and forehead rubs as we enter or leave my house and say hello/goodbye to him.

Also around this time, my mom and myself are beginning to prep for moving to another state. We have also started doing some in person classes again. I had been cleaning out my room one morning, and just so happened to leave a piece of sea glass in front of Walter as I left for school. I had a strangely good day. Managed to get an A on a test if I remember right. I come home, see the glass in front of the pumpkin, and start thinking. The next day I leave him something else. Another good luck day! I try this again and every single time I leave him an offering something good happens! I tell my friends about it and they start doing it too and experiencing the same results. We decide that he must be some god of luck inhabiting this pumpkin vessel and rewinding time on it to keep it from rotting.

At some point someone gave him an orange and I swear to god the pumpkin started getting orange marks on its forehead. He still wasn't rotting though! We decided that he obviously has been absorbing the power from the offerings.

Around this time I realise the I have somehow created a partially serious cult and decide I might as well lean into it. I actually enlisted the help of the neighbor kids to take this photo.

Time passes. Walter is about 10 months old now and still going strong. We have graduated highschool and I'm going to be moving in a week. I can't take Walter with me, so Marie decides she will take him. But first, she is going to help us move. It's a 6 hour drive. We put Walter in the passenger seat window so that all the cars passing us can see him.

After she helps us, Marie and Walter continue on to yet another state where Marie will be attending university. Walter is almost if not a year old when he finally starts to rot. Marie, in her dorm room mind you, makes a plaster cast of his head and redraws his face on it. To this day Walter hangs in his new, more durable vessel, guarding her spice cabinet.

By the end of Walter's reign, he had reached his 1st birthday, scared who knows how many mailmen, met 3 of my teachers in person, visited 3 USA states, and briefly had an instagram account.

[mothwingwritings]

Chance Encounter

F!Reader X Strade (BTD)

It's my birthday today! This was not the fic I planned on posting for it, but it was the one I had most completed so that is how it all worked out.

I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you for reading!

DUE TO THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THIS FIC 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: Imprisonment, physical/mental abuse, reader getting stabbed and hurt, mentions of sex, language, light editing.

Life was wrought with mistakes, one simple slip up holding the power to irrevocably change the course of your entire existence. It was impossible to get through your day to day without some form of blunder bogging you down at some point, vexing you at every turn to make the trials of life that much harder. But while inevitable, most of life’s fumbles are minor, silly little things that, though annoying, are easy enough to shrug off and live with, causing no major impediment to your existence.

That’s the kind of error that this instance should have been- a nothing moment causing seconds of agitation at best. As the cold, slick water bottle tumbled from your loose grip, the noise it made as it collided with the floor seemed blaring and dramatic, as if it were trying desperately to tell the whole world you had made an error. The bottle gained just enough momentum from the fall to roll out of your sight, disappearing into the main hall, hopefully coming to a stop before reaching the main door. After a brief sigh you chased after it, grumbling at the nerve of the inanimate object to try and make a run for it, eluding your grasp. Casting your eyes to the floor, you thought of nothing more than securing your drink as you followed after the trail of moisture it left behind.

Luckily it had not traveled far, and your eyes were quick to hone in on it as soon as you entered the adjoining hallway. Hunched over, your hand had once more clasped around its slippery, frosty surface, this time a bit more securely. Bottle now firmly in hand, you began to raise yourself, eager to slink back into the depths of the house where you would (hopefully) be left alone.

“Oh? And who do we have here?”

The sudden recognition stopped you dead in your tracks. An unfamiliar voice rang through your ears, sounding like an alarm in your head. Confusion gave way to fear, causing a several second delay before you could force your slumped form to even glance up and acknowledge who the words had come from. A cold sweat began to coat your body, mirroring the perspiration of the water in your hand.

Obscured by several strands of messy hair, your eyes fell to the front door at the end of the hall, scanning the area where this mystery voice had come from. A few minutes ago you had thought you could make out Strade opening it, but since you had heard nothing further you figured he was just checking the mail or something and he would be back in within a matter of seconds (if he wasn’t already back inside, which is what spurred your hurried supply gathering to begin with).

So when your water bottle slipped from your hands and rolled out into the hall, you didn’t think twice before chasing after it. Despite how the hall seemed a bit brighter than normal and that a slight breeze accompanied that light, you never would have imagined collecting your fumbled bottle would lead you to a confrontation with a complete stranger.

There was a strict rule about keeping yourself hidden away in the house, out of sight and mind for any and all neighbors and passersby. Whether you meant to or not, you had just broken that cardinal rule and now had to deal with the fallout.

The front door was flung wide open, flooding your vision with a blinding ray of sunlight. You squinted as your eyes adjusted, honing in on two silhouettes that appeared in the doorway. One was undeniably Strade, while the other belonged to a slight elderly woman. As your eyes grew accustomed to the light, you noted she wore a surprised, albeit pleasant, expression on her aged face, denoting that she was just as shocked to see you as you her.

You slowly straightened your posture, crinkling the plastic bottle in a tightening grip as you pivoted your body to fully face both individuals. The woman took you in with a steady mix of confusion and amusement, no doubt hankering to know more about this new woman who had entered her midst. Strade, on the other hand…

When your eyes flicked to him you had to bite back the desire to instantly flee. Outwardly he had managed to keep his cool, his posture remaining lax as he faced you with a peaceful grin on his lips and a slight twinkle in his eye. To an outsider, his expression could easily be misconstrued as a look of amused fondness, as if seeing you show up randomly was natural and welcomed. But you knew Strade and his tells well enough to know just how much danger you were actually in. It was in the way he gripped the doorknob a smidge too tightly, found in the dangerous gleam that shone beneath the sparkle of his crinkled eyes, apparent in the imperceptible way he tapped his foot. He had made his displeasure of your arrival crystal clear, needing no further assurance of just how severely you had fucked up.

“This is (Name),” Strade’s response was effortless, his face and demeanor completely devoid of any hints of worry, “Don’t be shy, come introduce yourself!”

You saw him fiddle with something in his pocket, no doubt the controls to the large, overbearing collar that hugged your neck like a noose. He gave a quick jerk of his head, alerting that it was alright to come towards him.

After several slow, shaky steps, you arrived at his side. Standing at the cusp of the doorway, the sun was so bright it was nearly blinding. You basked in its glow, feeling refreshed the moment the warm rays and fresh breeze came in contact with your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath as you stared up into the impossibly blue sky. Fat, fluffy clouds meandered by, carried ever so slowly by a gentle breeze.

For a moment, you felt the sweet embrace of freedom.

“Oh my, Sweetheart you look awful!”

A concerned voice brought you crashing back to reality, a cold dread clawing its way back inside you. You looked towards the woman who could now clearly see you in all your glory- open wounds, old scars, fat bruises, thick collar, everything. The horror in her eyes reflected her inner emotions, a deep frown highlighting her pity and concern.

Though her reaction was to be expected, it terrified you. Strade’s meticulously kept secret was being laid bare and that couldn’t mean anything good for either yourself or the woman that discovered you.

“Impressive, isn’t she?”

You both whipped your head towards Strade, responding to his nonchalance with puzzled stares. Strade chuckled in response, “(Name) here is a stage actress by trade, and recently has been dabbling in her own makeup and special effects. It all looks pretty convincing, doesn’t it?”

A wave of relief washed over the woman at his on the spot explanation, “Dear me, you almost gave me a heart attack! It certainly fooled me!” She turned her attention back your way, staring with squinted eyes at the marks that littered your form, taking them in with a newfound appreciation. “It’s strange to compliment something so garish, but it is quite impressive that it looks so realistic. You did a great job, sweetie.”’

Your body slightly jerked as Strade’s hand clasped on your shoulder, giving a squeeze. You didn’t have to look at his face to realize he was no doubt pleased by the sick, fallacious compliment he had just second hand received.

“T-thank you,” you took the initiative, figuring it was best to act on your own then wait for Strade to prompt you. The more convincing this all looked the better. “I have been practicing a lot so I am glad they look so… natural.”

You choked on the word, disgusted by your own insinuation. Natural- Is that what this had all become?

“Well, you sure fooled these old eyes,” the kindly woman laughed so deeply it shook her frame, “But even with all the makeup it’s easy to tell you are quite lovely,”  a knowing smirk crossed her wrinkled lips as her eyes darted to Strade, “Am I right in saying you’ve finally found yourself someone special, Strade?”

It took all you had not to wretch on the spot, disgust gripping you so violently it was a miracle you were able to keep your expression neutral at her insinuation.

“Ahhh, ya caught me!” Strade laughed, slinging his arm around your shoulders, jostling you a bit in the process. “I was planning on introducing her a little later, but no time like the present, eh? (Name), this is Mrs. Schmidt, my next door neighbor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, giving a small nod. You didn’t want to attempt a hand shake, worried that your grasp would be far too sweaty and quivery for someone who didn’t actively fear for their life simply by being in their ‘boyfriends’ presence.

“Well it is very nice to meet you too miss (Name). It warms my heart to know Strade has such a pretty young lady to keep him company, we’ve been worried he’d be a lonely bachelor for life!”

She gave a tinkling laugh and you forced yourself to respond in kind. You realized her suggestive prodding and compliments on your looks were just her attempting to be polite and chummy, but you couldn’t help but find the interaction exceptionally grating. You knew you looked exactly how you felt, chewed up, spit out, dragged to hell and back again. No amount of flowery praise could ever convince you otherwise. That, coupled with the cutesy way she interacted with Strade had you considering slamming the door in her face, effectively ending this surreal hell even if it meant willingly barricading yourself inside to be alone with Strade again.

“You know, we were all trying to marry off our neighborhoods most eligible bachelor,” she mused, reaching over to lightly touch Strade’s arm. The familiarity made your hair stand on end. To think someone could so casually touch him, staring up at him with such soft reverence, made you want to gouge your own eyes out to not have to witness the blind adoration a moment longer.

“Ah come on now, I’m not that hopeless!” You felt his laugh as he clutched you to his side, reverberating through you as he tightened his grasp. Without the threat of the collar, was he worried you would bolt? “I mean, I found (Name) right? I was just waiting for the right person!”

“Well she sure is lucky,” the old woman directed her focus back towards you “I’ve been his neighbor going on five years now and I can’t tell you how many times he has helped us out. In fact, just last week we were having issues with that old hunk of junk we call a car and it seemed that no matter what shop we took it to, it wasn’t getting fixed. We were about to scrap the thing when Strade came over and took a look at it, found the problem, and fixed it up good as new! It runs better now than it has in years, and Strade wouldn’t even accept payment! He just took a cold beer and went on his merry way.”

A wave of nausea washed over you as she continued to animatedly speak, a shine in her eye as she droned on and on about how much she adored the monster beside you. As she droned on, an intrusive thought began to creep in your head. What would she do if she knew the truth, you wondered? If she was made privy to the fact that the same hands that fixed her car have choked you, stabbed you, and beat you to the point of near death multiple times, how would she respond? If the man she idolized was laid bare before her, how vastly would her opinion of him change? Would she even believe it? Would she try and help you, or would she continue to live in her happy bubble of ignorance?

“And it’s not just us either, the whole neighborhood adores him! I don’t think there’s a person on this street this man hasn’t helped. He’s a true angel!”

An angel. This mass murderer, this menace to society, this cold blooded killer, was her angel.

Quivering with tremors, your body began to tense up. Whether from disgust, anger, or fear you were uncertain, but the uncanny nature of this entire instance was making your skin crawl and you desperately wanted to retreat back in the house and curl up in some shadowy corner, far removed from the situation.

You cursed yourself for dropping the bottle and ultimately subjugating yourself to this woman before you and the eerie words the continued to spew from her lips, fueling the revulsion that wracked your gut. The realization that the man who mercilessly assaulted you day after day, spiriting you away from all you ever loved and knew to be kept as his personal ‘pet’ and punching bag, was the block’s own personal hero, hit you like a ton of bricks. Since you had been imprisoned you held on to the secret hope that someone was on to him, that maybe a local neighborhood hero would one day report him and the police would storm the place, ultimately saving you from your nightmare. Now it was abundantly clear that was just a pipedream and an incredibly stupid and naïve one at that.

After being subjugated to this cruel revelation you decided that if Strade didn’t kill you, maybe you would just give up and find a way to do the job yourself. Was the tiny amount of hope you clung to worth it? Would you ever make it out of this alive?

Strade chortled sheepishly beside you, “Please, you give me too much credit! I just like to tinker and have a bad habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business, as (Name) can probably attest to.” He shook you back to reality, bringing the attention back to you, “Speaking of, we interrupted you didn’t we? You can get back to work if you need to, sweetheart.”

The neighbor seemed to pick up on the hint, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced down at her wrist watch.  “Oh my, look at that! The time just slipped away from me! I am so sorry to keep you, especially when you are in the middle of something important.”

“I-it’s OK,” finding your voice once more, you regarded her with an uneasy smile, “It was nice to take a little break from it all, and it was nice to meet you too.”

It wasn’t a lie. Despite the immobilizing anxiety, offensive annoyances, and ever present fear that was weighing you down the entire conversation, this chance meeting was like finding an air pocket in a sinking submarine. It rejuvenated you in a sense, treating you to a taste of ordinary life. You didn’t know what was going to come after this moment. Whether you would survive the pending punishments you were sure to receive or if you would ever see this woman again after Strade shut the door was anyone’s guess. But those worries were for the future, for now, you basked in the brief normalcy of it all, relishing the feeling of almost freedom that was only a few taunting steps away.

“I would say I’d love to see your creative project once it’s done, but it looks like it may be a little much for me. “ She giggled airily, giving you a kind smile, “But regardless, I hope it is a success! I don’t know how it couldn’t be, what with all the love and effort you have clearly put into it!”

“Yes, you can really see the passion reflected in her work,” Strade remarked jovially, making you cringe, “Seeing her like this really inspires me to work my hardest too.”

He smiled down at you, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned over your shoulder, “She’s really helped teach me that all the time and energy you pour into your work and hobbies is well worth the reward.”

This time, you were unable to stop the shudder his words elicited.

“Well, this pesky lady won’t take up anymore of your evening,” she started to turn away, giving a small wave as she did so, “It’s always a pleasure Strade, and it was very nice to meet you (Name)! I look forward to seeing you more in the future!”

Time seemed to slow as you felt Strade leave your side, offering his support to her as she hobbled her way down the stairs. It all felt unreal watching the two-the cheery expression that lit up Strade’s face, the pleasant aura that surrounded the woman he spoke to, the smile that you had forced upon your face as you waved her goodbye.

The sluggish, serene nature of it all made it feel like you were caught in a dream, one that would very shortly turn into a nightmare.

After Strade had made sure she was secure, he made his way back up the stairs, giving her one more cursory wave before shutting the door and bolting it closed. He pressed his face against the peephole, placing his hands on either side of the door frame in a white knuckled grip. For several drawn out seconds he watched what you assumed was his neighbor making her way back to her house, tapping his foot impatiently until he had confirmed she was back inside of her home.

Strade took a step back, slapping a hand over his eyes. He massaged them a bit before slowly dragging his palm down the length of his face. Releasing a groan of irritation, he slammed his fist down hard against the front door, rattling it against the wooden frame. It rattled you as well, fully drawing your attention back to your impending doom.

 “Scheisse,” he grumbled after a lengthy sigh, shaking his head derisively, “That old bitch just HAD to come at the most inopportune time, didn’t she? Even after I told her to not come over unannounced, she waltzes over here like she fucking owns the place! What a pain in my fucking ass.”

Now that Mrs. Schmidt was out of the picture, you felt her absence profoundly. Without her obtrusion barring its closure, the door was once more locked tight, effectively cutting you off from the fresh air and sunshine you were relishing moments prior. The outside world that had been dangled before you was gone nearly the moment you experienced it. Gloom replaced azure skies, your pending punishment looming like a dark cloud as you were once more reminded that while in his grasp, you were nothing more than a caged animal.

The future you had avoided thinking about had become the present- all that was left was to face Strade. How would he deal with you for causing such an inconvenience? What fresh hell awaited you now that you were alone?

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

The apology came as a jittery squeak, choppy breathing bouncing the words that tumbled from your pouty lips, “I’m so sorry Strade, I-I should have been paying more attention! If I didn’t drop that bottle, if I would have kept a better grip on the stupid thing, she never would have seen me. I am so, so sorry! This was a dumb, stupid mistake and it will never happen again! I won’t go in the kitchen or near the door at all, I’ll stay away from windows and I’ll peek to make sure no one is outside when I move around the house. I’ll be more careful, I promise! I’m sorry… Please…”

At some point during your babbling, you had started to cry. Your voice becoming such a blubbery, quavering mess that your words were now a slurry of unintelligible noises, the message you were trying to relay just barely recognizable over the sobbing. Tears stained your vision, making the world appear as wavering as your body felt, like any moment you would topple over and never stand up again.

In attempt to compose yourself, you moved to hastily wipe the tears from your eyes. Desperately rubbing away the signs of your outburst, Strade’s large hand landed atop your head. Curling his fingers into your hair, you flinched at the sensation, stiffening as you braced yourself for the inevitable pain that was to follow.

Any moment he’d clench his fist, latching onto your tresses in a death grip before roughly jerking you to the ground.  Your tormentor would then drag you down to the basement, amped up and ready to do god knows what to you to alleviate his tension and punish your transgressions. These very well could be your last few minutes alive, all because of one stupid mistake. Your breathing became even more erratic as his hand lingered, the anxiety of it all so overwhelming that your vision began to spot. Darkness was quickly consuming you, your heart pounding so violently in your chest you wondered if it would give out before Strade even had his chance to destroy you.

“Hey now, it’s not your fault that old bird doesn’t know how to mind her own goddamn business!”

In stark contrast to what you were expecting, Strade chuckled blithely. Instead of grabbing a hold of you, his hand began to rub your head, tousling your hair playfully. Confusion kept you planted firmly in place as you hesitantly looked up at Strade’s face, finding no trace of the immense anger you expected in his expression. If anything, seeing your response seemed to melt his mild annoyance, replacing it with a look of mirthful amusement while he scrubbed at your head like a dog.

“It’s fucking obnoxious though, isn’t it? How one person can come over and mess up your entire day?”

Doing your best to ignore his leering smile, he continued to speak, “That woman just doesn’t know how to shut up, if I let her flap her mouth too much the whole goddamn neighborhood will be up my ass about this. I guess I’m just lucky that she’s old as sin and starting to lose it, if she harps about you too much I can brush it off as signs of onset dementia. Should be easy enough to get people to believe, and besides that, at her age she’s knocking at deaths door so I probably won’t have to worry about her for all that much longer anyway.”

As he guffawed at his own cruel flippancy, you found little assurance in his callous words.  Shivering slightly, you had a hard time convincing your brain that you had made it out of the woods, that all was forgiven and soon to be forgotten. He felt you shiver beneath his hand, garnering his attention. He shot you a bemused glance, “What’s the matter, (Name)? I thought mein Mädchen would be thrilled to be off the hook right now, but are you actually disappointed? If you really want, I can conjure up some disciplinary action right now-“

“No,” you cut him off, desperation flooding your voice, “thank you Strade. Truly, thank you for understanding, and I promise it won’t happen again!”

Strade shot you a brief smile before releasing a breathy sigh, his hand falling limply from your head to rest on his hip. His eyes darted back to his neighbor’s house, a pensive frown forming on his lips.

“With all that said, I should probably still have a backup plan in place to cover my bases. Now that the neighborhood has a new darling to gossip about, we can’t just pretend like she doesn’t exist.” his eyes traveled back your way, causing unease to blossom in your chest, “I wonder what the story should be. We could ‘break up’ I suppose, but I feel like that would cause a shit show in its own way…”

His voice trailed off as he mulled it over, a spark coming across his features when a new idea donned on him.

“Or maybe… Maybe you could make the rare appearance every now and again, at one of our block parties or a cook out or something?”

Your brain struggled to process what he was saying, his suggestion so outlandish you were sure you had hallucinated him speaking it. “… What?”

His piercing eyes stayed locked on your petrified state, wearing an indecipherable expression as he mulled over his words. Without his typical cheekiness padding the suggestion, you couldn’t easily decipher if this was another sadistic attempt at feeding you false hope or something he was actually considering. To add to the uncertainty, you also couldn’t decide which option would be better for you in the long run. The suggested intimacy of posing as his public girlfriend made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t deny the joy rising within you at the thought of getting out of this house and being around other people. The idea of interacting with the outside world was too tantalizing to ignore, and you found yourself fixating on it the longer the quandary persisted. Would it be worth it, you wondered? Could this be your opportunity finally, after so much abuse, to find a little reprieve?

Excitement surged inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest. Hope. For once in a very long time, you began to feel tangibly hopeful.

After several long seconds of silence, Strade’s face bloomed into a huge grin. He snickered as he closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he had just witnessed you doing something he found truly adorable.

“I’m joking (Name), no need to look so distraught!” His smile grew as he gave you another firm pat on the head, “Didn’t get your hopes up, did I? Sorry, but it would require a lot of training to get you to the point where I could trust you not to cause problems in public, and as much as I would love to devote the time to that intensive training, there are just too many outliers that pose major problems for our current arrangement.”

He leaned forward, encroaching on your personal space so that he could look you directly in the eye. He cinched his brow, a look of mock sympathy displayed on his features as he cooed at you condescendingly, “You understand, right mein Schatz?”

Unsure of how else to respond, you gave a quick nod to confirm that you at least heard his words. Your brain felt like soup asyour new found hope fizzled and died, just as it seemed prone to do. All the flip flopping, uncertainty, and dread of the last fifteen minutes left your mind muddled and hazy, exhaustion creeping over you from the mental and emotional gymnastics. At this point, you weren’t even sure any of what had occurred in the past twenty minutes was even real so much as it was just some weird, unfortunate hallucination your mind conjured to further torment you.

“Good girl!” He gave your cheek a few light smacks to punctuate his compliment, before straightening himself to his full height, stretching as he did so. “You catch on quick (Name), it’s one of the things I really like about you. Thanks for seeing things from my perspective!”

Giving a slight sigh of relief, you figured this would mark the end of the conversation. He’d tell you to step back from the door, turn your collar back on, and go about doing whatever the hell he was about to do, leaving you in relative peace.

But as his beady eyes continued to linger on you, you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. They trailed the length of your body, methodically taking in every inch of you with a gaze so intense it nearly burned. You desperately wanted to shrink in on yourself and cover yourself in any way you could, hide away to escape the assault of his stare. Though you were fully clothed, his attention made you feel naked, exposed and bare as he openly ogled you. If there was one thing you had learned while being trapped with Strade, it was that his undivided attention was never a good thing.

“Maybe it’s conceited to say” he positioned himself so that his body was facing yours, taking a step to close the small gap of distance that separated you, “but it really is nice work. What I have done to you, that is.”

His voice was low and rumbling, an edge to it that hinted at something you didn’t want to ruminate on. Unable to stand the intensity any longer, you folded your arms across your chest, hunching your shoulders to conceal yourself the best you could. It was a weak defense, but the only one you had.

Strade’s hands shot out like whips, grabbing hold of each of your arms in a unyielding grip. Yanking them away from your chest, he tugged you roughly towards him, spinning you around so that your back was flush against his chest and stomach. Once in place, he took hold of your arms once more, pushing them up so that they were in front of your face.

“Keep them there.”

Warm breath tickled your ear as he loomed over your shoulder, his cheek pressed flush against your head as he gave his command. He slowly released his hold on your arms, his hands hovering for a moment, testing the waters to see if you would continue to obey. Without his support the limbs shook violently, but you dared not move them.

As you kept your arms in place, Strade languidly dragged his fingers down their length, sighing wistfully as they traced over the scars that littered them.  Admiring his own handiwork, you felt his breathing growing labored. Your body moved in time with each rise and fall of his chest as he remained plastered behind you, his course fingers gingerly ghosting the length of your arms at a hypnotizingly steady pace.

He remained this way for several minutes, unspeaking as his fingers danced over the past wounds he had inflicted upon you. The gentleness of his touch was shocking, eliciting goosebumps in the wake of his caress. In an attempt to calm yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut. If you could focus on only the sensation of his touch it was easier to pretend it was not his arms you were nestled in, that it was not his calloused fingers tracing you so delicately. If you could not see him, if you could will his presence away, you could curb some of the self-loathing you felt in admitting that this exceptionally rare moment of tenderness felt good.

Once he was satisfied with surveying your arms, his hands trailed to your shoulders. Balling into fists, he took a shuddering breath as he latched on to the fabric of your shirt, using his grip on you to drag you farther into the house. “I want to see more, “he growled behind you, his composure slipping as you awkwardly stumbled backwards, “I want to make more.”

The moment you reached the living room he shoved you to the ground, ordering you to stay still while he made a hurried side trip into the kitchen. Though your panicked brain screamed at you to run, your body refused to budge, the sheer terror this new turn of events caused paralyzing you, halting any form of action.

It wasn’t long before Strade returned to the room, massive kitchen knife in hand as he stalked towards you. He wasted no time in mounting you, straddling your stomach between thick, muscled legs. With his weight upon you, cinched between his thighs, there was no hope of escape. Even if your numb limbs finally decided to listen to you and take action, it was far too late to escape. Whimpers creaked from your throat as he took hold of the collar of your shirt, placing the sharp edge of the knife against the fabric as he began to cut.

“You really are a good girl, (Name),” he panted over you, his knife nicking your skin as it erratically sawed through your shirt and bra, causing sharp, pained gasps to be squeezed from your throat. Strade’s smile grew with each sound you made, the excitement of it all driving him into a frenzy. “You’ve done everything I’ve ever asked, listen to everything I say. But you’re problem is that you’re just too irresistible, mein schatz. Es macht mich wahnsinnig.”

With your top now completely shredded you started to squirm, softly pleading for him to let you go as you maneuvered your body in any way that may loosen his hold on you. Tears stung your eyes as he clamped his legs tighter, your act of resistance causing a growing bulge to press uncomfortably into your stomach.

“Making a man lose his composure like this is enough to warrant a punishment in and of itself,” he released a shaky sigh as he pointed the tip of his knife over your exposed chest, pressing down until it had pierced your skin. Crying out, you wrapped your hands around his and began to pull, tugging as hard as you could in an effort to try and pull the blade from your body. But he was far stronger, and it seemed that the more you struggled against him, the deeper he plunged his blade.

“Aw come on now, don’t be like that,” he mocked, his voice dripping in lust, “I just want to play around a little bit, but you’re making it really hard not to lose control (Name).”

He abruptly pulled back, wresting his knife wielding hand from your grasp to raise it higher in the air. As he reared back, your arms folded across your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself. Scrunched up as much as you could, your arms and hands guarded your face and chest as you waited, bracing for impact. And instant later you felt a rush by your head, followed directly by a searing pain that emanated from your shoulder. Your wide eyes flicked over to see the thick knife stabbed into the plush carpet, inches from your head. The blade had ripped into you on the way down, tearing into the flesh and muscle of your upper arm. You screamed as blood flowed from the deep gash, seeping into the carpet beneath you.

“Uh oh,” Strade’s sing-song voice called above you, “That’s probably gonna leave a stain, huh? That’s why I do this kind of shit in the basement. It’s much easier to clean up my little ‘projects’ down there!”

He gave a throaty laugh as he ripped the knife from the carpet, the violent withdrawal of the blade sending a fresh wave of agony through you. You flinched as Strade clasped his hand over the open wound, whimpering loudly as he applied pressure. It may have been an attempt at quelling the blood flow, but as you felt him jab his fingers deeper into the wound, it became clear he was deriving immense enjoyment from the act, grinning from ear to ear as you winced at the stinging sensation.

“Hey now, don’t be too upset! This sort of thing happens during the creative process, right? Things get messy, it’s the price you pay for creating works of art,” your blood ran cold as his beastial eyes bore down on you, the rest of his face offputtingly serene as his wide grin continued to spread, “And YOU may just be my magnum opus! It’s such a treat having you as my own little personal canvas~”

Releasing your shoulder, he moved once more to grasp his knife with his bloody hand. He licked a stray drop that began to creep down his wrist, shuddering in pleasure as he tasted you, taking in your horror and butchery with great fervor. With a flick of his wrist, the blade slid across your chest, leaving an angry trail of crimson in its wake. You screamed once more as blood poured from the pulsating wound, streaming down your chest until it washed your breasts in gore. Strade groaned at the sight. Driven by his craving for carnage, he readied his blade once more, a crazed smile on his face as he gleefully considered his next move.

“Be careful not to tease me too much (Name), or I may accidentally take this too far.”

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv! I’m trying to figure out which 20 fics to download so I don’t lose them (my storage can’t handle more than that unfortunately), would you have any suggestions for fics to download? I’ve already put spots aside for every single Aideomai fic, all of Astolat’s Drarry fics, and Running on Air (also, do you happen to know of any way to make the text in a pdf bigger? I can barely see the words without zooming, and when I do it moves around and suddenly I can’t see the whole sentence I’m reading anymore. Very annoying)

Hi there! Oh I love that idea but choosing only 20 fics is nearly impossible 🥲 I’m listing below the ones I’d personally go for - I’m assuming your focus is on long fics so I didn’t include any short/medium-length stories (I could probably complete another full list with them 💀) As for that pdf text, unfortunately I don’t know a way to make it bigger :( I usually read on my phone so that format doesn’t work for me either, best to use a tablet or laptop instead. Let’s see if my followers have any tips to share!

A Sword Laid Aside by korlaena

A Young Radical's Guide to Love by blamebrampton

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound

By the Grace by lettered

Dwelling by aideomai

Far From the Tree by aideomai

Heal Thyself by astolat

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by Writcraft

Lost in Your Arms by Femme

Modern Love by tackytiger

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic

Running on Air by eleventy7

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by Writcraft

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered

Turn by Saras_Girl

Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym

* In the Dark by bixgirl1 (WIP)

[sammyluvr]

Mari, love!

Do you think being in an on-and-off relationship would save the reader ("you") from the curse of Sam's partners?

Because then being on and off is the only way of mentally surviving either of the Winchester brothers.

Do allow me, for my own indulgence, to say that you met sometime during season two, when you were an assistant to some prof, as a way of getting some experience for your own pedagogic career as a historic.

Sam keeps your number after the case and keeps in contact and eventually... something more grows between you.

Then Ruby appears and... well, she gets Sam addicted and somewhere along the way, the overly sexual way he drinks her blood turns into explicit sex. And not once...

And although I absolutely love Sam, season3!Sam can be an ass - especially if you don't see how the blood is making him stronger so he can help people. What does it matter that Ruby, the genderless demon, is in a young, conventionally attractive body?

So you break up with him for the first time.

Of course, once Ruby's plot comes to live and he safely can, Sam searches for you to apologize. You miss him, he misses you - so you forgive him and get back together. The unfortunate thing - you forgave, but didn't forget. So the relationship is rocky at best, but Sam knows why and is apologetic and understanding, so overtime, it's better and better.

And then he jumps into the Cage. Amidst all his planning... he kinda forgot to tell you. But you don't have to worry, since you're the first one he looks up after coming back.

It doesn't take you long to figure out that something is off and you distance yourself from Sam. Once he ropes Dean along, you do play a bit of a theatre for Dean's sake, but break it off again around the time Sam lets Dean turn into a vampire.

After getting his soul back, Sam crawls to you again. This period of your relationship is the worst - you are still bitter about all the things he said and did as soulless (and when with Ruby, even though you said you were over it (I love growth, I really do... but also, I love being a bit of a bitter bitch)). Sam doesn't know what's real and what's not, and to be honest, the way it seems easy for you to break up with him makes him feel... not funny things.

You both try. Not your best, but try. It can't last for long and it doesn't.

First, it's the killing rampage of the leviathan!Winchesters. Sam doesn't call you at all, fearing it might flag you to them.

Then, Bobby's death is an enormous hit - and Sam doesn't let you know, because he threw away his phone and his computer and still doesn't remember your number, because he had it saved in the computer...

And finally, Becky. We can imagine many things she did to him and with him when he was under the potion (which he - kinda fortunately doesn't remember) or when she tied him to the bed (I am both amazed how she managed to transport him). I am a fan of angst, but I'm not going to say what I think actually happened.

If there was one thing you were absolutely sure could mend anything between the two of you, it was cuddling. But after Becky, Sam seems to shrink from your touch.

This time, you two talk. This time, the break-up is mutual. This time, you two actually stay in contact, as friends.

You visit him in the mental hospital. He stops every time for a visit when the brothers drive through your state. You meet Amelia, when she and Sam date briefly. This time, they don't break up because her husband returns, but for some other, kinda petty reason.

You and Sam slowly drift together. One of the reasons being that after Bobby's demise, you're the best one for the role, so you take it up.

Your and Sam's relationship grows stronger and stronger. You both are older now, more secure than you ever been - in both yourself individually and as a pair...

Whether you get married or not is only on you. Sam would definitely want to, but being the most wanted criminal in the US (twice) means that he can't marry you with his legal name and if you're not a wedding enthusiast, it's kind of a needed not headache.

(Can you tell I've never watched past season 10 and don't remember much past season 8?)

I SEE THE VISIONNNN i'm not sure if i could personally handle all that like... that would be so exhausting not gonna lie but also!!! it absolutely see the vision because like..

maybe you're outside of things, but you're also still very entangled in it all. it's hard to have one foot in and one foot out and some people might say that that's not really possible. but you sort of prove that wrong. you pull yourself out of it when it's too much. and you of course still get hurt. you probably hurt others too. sometimes sam feels like he needs you all in with him.

but also there's this huge relief each time he visits you and you're just living this primarily normal life. maybe you're not always together, but you're still somehow this constant in his life. it's a relief to have you as a friend by the time the break up is mutual. to have each other around sometimes without the pressure of it being a romantic relationship.

and then over time, still loving each other. growing closer, thinking it must be a bad idea to get together again after all that's happened in the past. realizing that before it was always just right person wrong time. and maybe the right time is now <333

and then we can ignore everything that happens after that because why not just give this pairing a happy ending hehehehe <333