#what kind of brutality are they gonna do to make him agree to that

[tobeholyistobeempty]

joel miller • be quiet, or i’ll make you

“Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

WARNINGS - smut smut smut mdni, porn with some plot, forced proximity, feral!joel, risky/secret sex, brutal sex, size!kink, dubcon if you squint but mostly a mutual want situation, reader and joel have an unspoken relationship, copious amounts of dirty talk, piv, creampie, daddy dom joel.

The world ended in disaster.

You’ve lived with that knowledge for years now, and you think you’ve finally come to terms with the kind of things you’ll get from it. Pain. Loss. Destruction. The same chaos, day in day out, just in different forms.

You know that at this point you’ll be lucky if you survive until tomorrow; so you take it in stride.

And it’s with that thought that you find yourself following Joel into the city, your steps just as reluctant as he was to agree to this. You don’t particularly want to be out here — and neither does he — but you’ve been wanting to look for more medical supplies for a while now and Joel wasn’t about to let you go alone. Despite how much bitchin’ he did beforehand.

You can’t tell which is more depressing; the streets covered in broken glass and littered with remnants of a life long gone, or the buildings that are nearly crumbling to the ground. Neither are very pleasant to look at, but not many things are these days, so you keep moving. You have a job to do, and you don’t have too much time to do it — the sun won’t be up much longer, and you want to get the fuck out of here before the real dangerous kinds of people come out lookin’ for their next meal.

Or, whatever Joel had said earlier. Mostly just in attempt to scare you.

Minutes feel like hours as you keep your gaze pointed forward, and when you pass a shattered window belonging to some old broken down building, you don’t dare look inside.

You’d rather not know what lingers inside death eaten walls.

But it’s while you’re doing that, keeping your gaze ahead, that you miss the fact that Joel has stopped walking. When it finally registers that the world around you has gotten quieter - and when you finally do turn around - you’re surprised for two reasons.

The first being that he even stopped at all, and the second being the fucking look on his face.

“You alright?” You ask as you edge closer, glancing at the abandoned building that’s in front of him. It doesn’t look like anything remarkable, but there’s definitely something in the way he stares at it. “Joel, you still with me?”

He isn’t saying anything, his expression is rather blank — but you know him well enough to know that he’s not just seeing what’s right in front of him. He’s seeing something else entirely. He snaps back to attention faster than you would have expected at the sound of your voice, and when his eyes land down on yours - there’s something inside them that makes your heart sink.

“Somethin’s wrong.” Is all he says before he’s grabbing your wrist, and yanking you inside.

Your heart starts pounding faster, but you try your best to stay calm. He isn’t the kind of man who would panic without cause, so you know he must have seen something - or heard something - and you’re doing your best not to let that scare you.

“Joel—shit—what the hell—“ you stumble over rubble and pieces of broken furniture. “What’re you—“

He’s pulling you deeper into the building, not giving you a chance to stand still long enough to say more. When you get to a staircase he yanks you down a few steps, waiting for the sound of the door shutting behind you before shoving your shoulders back against the wall.

“You listen to me—“ he’s panting, words spat through grit teeth. “You’re gonna’ shut up, and you’re gonna’ stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

The tone of his voice alone forces you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from talking. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve seen him this serious. You’d almost forgotten that he was capable of producing this kind of tension - the kind that’s so palpable it could be cut with a knife.

So, you just nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and you hope that it’s enough.

“Alright.” He doesn’t seem certain of your answer, but he nods anyway, reaching for your wrist again and dragging you down the remaining stairs.

When you get to the bottom, he opens the door slowly, eyes darting around until they land on a nearby closet - and it’s only after the first step you take towards it that you hear noises on the floor above you.

Footsteps.

And way too fucking many for you to be comfortable.

The kind of heavy, laden-boot marching you’d dread to hear on good days - nevermind while you’re out in dangerous territory, trying your damnest to flee unseen. It’s only seconds before the steps grow louder, and you can feel your heart rate speeding up again - while Joel is staring at the ceiling with such intensity you think that he might just be able to will it to break if he so much as blinked at it.

Then, in a flash, he snaps out of it - dragging you toward the closet and shoving you inside before you can even think about protesting.

And god, is it fucking cramped.

The closet is small. Small enough that you have to force yourself closer to the wall so that he has space to squeeze inside behind you. And it’s within the first second that he shuts the door, and the darkness swallows you both whole - in which you realize you have a new problem altogether.

“Joel—“ you choke out as a heavy palm snakes around your waist, pressing tight against your belly. He’s a solid wall behind you, his front flush against your back, and all you can fucking feel is his hot breath against your ear - his stubble tickling your cheek. “What’s—“

“No talking.” And then he brings his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you have to stifle a noise that threatens to explode in your chest. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

You take solace in the fact that he can’t see how flushed your face becomes, but your stupid brain is working overtime - overanalyzing the feeling of his calloused palm against your lips, the heat of his mouth way too fucking close to your ear, his free hand that seems to be sliding lower down your abdomen—

“Stop squirming.” He whispers, all heat as his fingers press a little harder against your lower stomach.

You long to bark at him. I can’t control it.

But you can’t. So instead you try to focus on the sounds of the people upstairs. You try to pay more attention to the way your heart is threatening to break free through your sternum. Anything to try and take your mind off of the way he’s touching you - but he makes it so, so hard.

You’re certain you would have a better fighting chance if you were to try and move mountains.

Without even thinking, your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and it’s then that his lips curve into a smile against your ear. And when the realization comes crashing down - the realization that he’s fully aware of what’s happening to you - you think you may just collapse.

Oh, god, this is torture.

If it were anyone else, you’d think this was a joke. You’d think that perhaps the way he’s touching you was some kind of attempt at making the terrifying just a little more tolerable, a little more exhilarating for different reasons - but this isn’t just anyone. This is Joel. And you know his mind never works like what. Instead, he simply acts on instinct - in ways that usually leave you reeling and your thoughts in a whirlwind.

You’ve been through this a million times with him.

Unsurprisingly, this time is no different.

And as you try to focus on the footsteps above you - desperately searching for a thought, a train of any kind to follow - his hand moves again, fingertips tracing the waistband of your dirt covered cargos - barely dipping between fabric and skin.

It’s slow, teasing, but it’s enough. And you don’t currently have enough control over yourself to stop your back from arching, pressing directly against the bulge in his jeans that’s growing impatiently despite himself.

And it’s the way he exhales in your ear, the way you hear him inhale right after before his nose brushes the shell of your ear — before his hand dips lower to trace the zipper of your fly — that you find yourself fighting for your life to swallow the moan that threatens to spill because the people on the second floor are now shouting and hollering, and the whole floor seems to quake under the force of their heavy boots.

A second passes. Then two, and then ten — there’s silence. You’re pretty sure the steps are now heading away from where you’re hiding, and you think Joel must agree because he slips his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your jaw.

“Joel—“ you choke out, the last syllables of his name sounding desperate. “I-we—“

And yet again, you aren’t able to finish, because he has a habit of taking the words you think you want to say straight from your chest. You aren’t able to process it until a moment later - when his mouth finds your neck, fingers slipping into your now unzipped cargo pants.

This isn’t what you meant.

You don’t have the chance to tell him that. You don’t have the cognitive ability to push the idea that this isn’t the time. You don’t even have enough room in your head to acknowledge how this could go so badly, so quickly. You’re too drunk on the high of his touch to think straight.

And when his fingers drag the lace of your underwear to the side - all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to a God you’re sure you’ve never actually believed in that you’ll survive this without the shame over how fucking soaked you are eating you alive first.

His fingers find your clit, making slow, small circles. Just enough to make you keen. Just enough to make you forget who you are, and what you’re doing. You think if he keeps it up for any longer, the sounds trapped behind your teeth are going to jailbreak before you can get a handle on them. He knows it too - because it’s only a split second after that thought enters your mind, that he whispers gravel in your ear again.

“If y’can’t stay quiet, I’ll make you.” And it’s said with enough sternness to let you know that it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. “Be good f’me.”

You don’t know if you can. You don’t know if you can possibly keep yourself silent. Not when his lips are teasing your burning flesh, not when his fingers are rolling your clit, not when he’s whispering promises of heaven in your ear.

But it’s then, that you hear the floorboards creak, and you know then, that you have no choice.

Either find a way to stay silent, or throw yourself headfirst into danger.

“Mm.” He hums as his fingers slip lower, sliding along your slit until they find your embarrassingly wet heat - to which you find yourself widening your feet despite yourself.

And this time, the noise that slips isn’t audible. Not to him anyway. But you can feel the sound vibrate the back of your throat. You can feel the way it glides over your tongue - and when you have the wherewithal, you bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough that it’s almost painful. He doesn’t seem to notice, and you’re glad because you know he’d only find it funny.

He pushes a finger into you, and holy fuck—

“Oh—“ the sound gets out of your mouth before you can stop it, involuntarily defying his direct order to shut the fuck up.

You hope, foolishly, it was quiet enough for him to not hear.

It isn’t, and as a result the hand that had been sitting lazily around your jaw slips firm over your mouth again, yanking your head back against his shoulder. You feel his fingers tighten as if to let you know that it’ll only get harder as his finger pushes deeper, and then retreats, pumping into you slow and steady.

“F-fuck—“ your whine is smothered against his palm, and you somehow have half the mind to realize the footsteps have stopped. Vanished. “J-joel.”

You’re expecting some type of response, some biting be quiet — but instead, all you get is a deep grunt in your ear and a roll of his hips against your ass as he slides another finger into your cunt, thumb brushing your clit.

And there’s almost no fight in you left to resist this - to resist the pleasure he’s pouring into your veins. You’d curse him if you could, if you could put more than four coherent words together to do it - but all there seems to be left in your mind is his name, which he’s using against you like he always does.

“Good girl.” He praises between slow, steady thrusts and you have to wonder what kind of game he’s playing to get you like this - to get you so undone you don’t even remember your own goddamn name.

Then again, you know better than to think there’s a game, at all. There are no games with Joel. He does what he wants and you’re either the benefit of it, or you’re the object of his ire.

But when a third finger slips into you, stretching and stuffing your cunt wider than you were mentally prepared for - you forget about any of that as you bite down on his hand as hard as you dare because it’s just too fucking much.

“J-joel—“ you try again, shaking your head. The footsteps haven’t returned. You have to believe they’re gone. You know Joel knows it too. “P-please—“

And like someone struck a match in a room full of gasoline, he seems to have decided that you’ve waited long enough. In the blink of an eye, you feel his palm leave your mouth, and move to the limited space between you. He’s unbuckling his belt.

“What’s the matter, huh?” He all but growls in your ear, still pumping his fingers deep. “Three too much for you? How d’ya think you’re gonna’ take my cock if you can’t even take my fuckin’ fingers.”

God. His voice is deep, dripping like sin. It goes straight to the center of your chest and you feel like the walls of your rib cage are cracking open. You have no idea how you’re going to be able to take him like this - especially when he’s so far gone it’s like he’s forgotten himself.

“I-I don’t know—“ and it’s the truth. You have no concept of how you’ll take a single drop of him in this state. But he’s already shifted himself free, pulling his fingers out to yank your pants down and slide his throbbing shaft into the slick space between your thighs. “F-fuck. You’re crazy.”

“Worse.” And you already know what he’s going to tell you just by the way the word drips into your ear. “M’insane.”

Truer words.

You never imagined that you’d ever find the thought of Joel Miller going insane so enticing. You imagine all kinds of ways you would have pictured it if someone had told you back when you first met - but somehow, this was never one of the things that came to mind.

“What does that make me?” You hiss as his fingers find your clit again, as he kicks your legs a little wider to slide his leaking tip against your slit.

“A goddamned fool.” He answers as he sinks into you, and there’s never been a more divine connection in the world. He groans into your ear, and you have to bite your lip again until you’re sure you might draw blood. “But you already knew that.”

And somehow, even still - you do.

Yeah. You do. He isn’t the type of man someone can ever know fully. He’s got walls and barriers built high - a fortress, impenetrable and vast - but somehow, you still manage to squeeze your way through it. It isn’t lost on you that you’re the only one who has.

“J-joel—go fuckin’ easy, please—“ you’re grabbing at the wall infront of you as he splits you open without so much as giving you a chance for breath. “It’s—been a while—“

And that stops him for a beat - but not for long, and not long enough. He still doesn’t go easy, still thrusts right to the hilt with the kind of power you’d associate with a man half his age - a man who (if the world hadn’t gone to hell) would be so close to retiring that he could taste the future on the back of his tongue - but you wouldn’t want him to anyway.

“I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it nice n’ deep, f’me. Just take it.”

And then he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you back so he can get even deeper, your spine arching just enough.

Fucking hell.

The sound that’s almost impossible not to make threatens to rip from the pit of your chest, but you bite down in time and it turns into something between a strangled cry and an elongated whimper. You know you’re going to be walking funny tomorrow - but right now, there’s no such thing as being able to imagine tomorrow.

“You—fuck.” It’s a whisper so pained someone might think you’re actually being impaled. In some ways you are. “Oh, god, Joel. Ohmygod you’re deep—“

“There she is.” He all but growls into your ear. “There’s the tough woman I know.” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly you might’d fall at the way he suddenly slams into you. “Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

You almost bite your tongue in half at the very thought of him doing that. Your mind is a wasteland of icoherent thought - and it’s then that you know with all the certainty in the world that you’d been done for the moment he came into your life. He always had a rough edge to him - but back then, when you first met, you thought it was just the product of a shitty life. But now, you know better - now, you know he’s just a good-natured person with an innate drive to protect - and you’d go to your grave knowing that you’d go there loving him for it.

Even though, right now, it feels a lot more like he’s trying to kill you rather than protect you.

“Ohhh, fuck—“ you hiss through grit teeth as he pulls out, dragging slow at tight, wet walls. “M’close to cryin’ now.”

“Mmm.” He all but purrs. “That’ll mean I’m doin’ my job right.” There’s heat in the way he speaks that you swear would burn even the toughest person. But then again, that’s always been something you’d only ever been able to say about Joel. “M’not gonna’ be gentle. You know you ain’t deserving of it right now.”

Another time, you’d tell him he was wrong. Another time, you would have argued that you hadn’t done a single thing wrong - but right now, your thoughts are just as lost as your voice.

Still, you try your best. “W-why? Because I—mmf—dragged you outta’ bed?”

“Wrong.” You can’t see it, but you’re sure there’s a smirk on his face. “You really wanna get into it? Wanna’ make a list?”

You don’t, but you have the horrible feeling that this is going to happen either way.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask with what little breath you can find.

“No.” The word sounds so simple - but in that moment, it might as well have been a dagger. “You don’t.”

He pulls out just so he can drive back into you harder, hand sliding from your hair and back over your mouth.

“First, you dragged me outta’ bed. That right there? Shoulda been spanked for it. Next, you got yourself pinned in a goddamn closet with me after raiders chased us down. Almost got us killed.” Another painfully slow draw out, followed by a hard drive back in - smacking your cervix. “An’ for what? Cause’ you don’t wanna’ listen when I say it’s too dangerous to be out here.”

There are a million retorts you could have - most of them have something to do with you being able to take care of yourself - but none of them even find the beginning of your tongue.

He’ll take that win. Just like he takes everything else.

“Not t’mention you’ve kept this perfect ass from me for far too long.” He’s fucking you hard now, head kissing your cervix with each long thrust and you’re crying out under his palm but the sound doesn’t escape. He makes sure of it. “Mmm, yeah. Far. Too. Long.”

You want to tell him to shut up - that he’s being an ass - but you’re two broken breaths from wailing at the sting on your cervix and the pressure he’s now swirling on your clit. The only thing that’s left for you to do is the only thing you can do.

Take it.

You roll your hips, shoving back against him with every thrust just to have him hit that much deeper - and if he has something to say about it, he doesn’t say it. But he seems satisfied with just that, and suddenly, you think he’s just as close as you are.

“That’s it.” His voice is tight. “Good girl. Just like that.”

His hips snap against your ass so hard you think you might end up bruised tomorrow, but the thought only adds to the haze in your mind.

“Ffffffuck—Joel—“ you mewl, pathetic desperate and needy as a whore, against his palm. His fingers speed up against your clit. “Oh!”

“Take it, baby. Make me fuckin’ proud.” He hisses in your ear, a groan slipping out between it. “So good. Pussy feels so good.”

“Gonna’ make me cum.” You try to speak - maybe another time you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound, but this isn’t that time and it’s not the time to be anything other than truthful. “Mmm—gonna cum J-joel—“

“Yeah you are.” He grunts, the rhythm of his thrusts stuttering just a little. “Squeezing my cock so goddamn tight. Fuckin’ cum on it, babygirl. Wanna’ feel you.”

The sound that pushes past his palm at just the last moment doesn’t sound like you - but you know it is. It's the sound of the kind of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before that makes your entire body feel like a rubber band that’s too tight, and you have the vaguest sense of your walls squeezing the life out of him but there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening at all - becuase your climax hits you like a goddamn freight train and its run you over hard.

You think he’s saying something - you know he is - but you can’t hear anything aside from the blood racing in your ears. Even still, you know exactly what happens next, because you’ve experienced it so many times. The way he loses himself, like he forgets every bit of control he prides himself for having and the need to empty himself inside you takes over.

He spills into you hard - and you love every second of it for the simplicity of the comedown.

It’s the kind of feeling that washes you in warmth. It’s the kind of feeling that tells you that the world is going to be okay, so long as you’ve got him and he’s got you. He groans and his hands come out to brace against the wall infront of you to hold himself up as he shoots hot jets of cum deep inside your cunt - and you can’t remember the last time you’d heard him breathe this hard. Though, truth be told, you can’t remember the last time you heard yourself breathe this hard, either.

Your mouth feels dry, your mind feels hazy, and your legs feel weak - and as he leans over you, he can surely tell all three - but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he drags his mouth over your ear with an inhale.

“Mmhmm.” He grumbles as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Look what you made me to do ya.” Your cheek gets the same treatment, and a breath later as he turns your head slightly, your lips do too. “Gonna’ have my cum leakin’ out of ya all the way back to camp.”

The sound you make doesn’t even seem human, but it’s muffled before it even comes - because he’s kissing you. And it isn’t a hard kiss like you’d expect - it’s slow and steady, and you know he’s doing it in a way to say sorry, as if he realizes he might’ve gone a little too far.

You smile into it, and he does too.

“You really are insane.” You whisper as he pulls back slightly. “My cervix gonna’ need a week vacation after that.”

“M’not a good man, darlin'. If I was, I’d say sorry for that.” He whispers with a small kiss against your lips. “But I ain’t. So, I’ll just tell you I’ll take care of you later as much as you like. That good enough for now?”

There’s only one answer for you. Only one that’s ever been the answer with him.

“Always.” There is a beat of silence, and you smile in the dark. “I love you.”

He pulls out of you, finally, leaving the part of himself behind that tells you how much he loves you too without verbalizing it. Soon as he fixes his jeans, he helps you fix yours.

“And I love you.” He whispers, calloused palm finding your own. “Let’s get outta’ here. The sooner we’re back, the better.”

And that, you can’t agree more with.

[paecifist]

tutor!rin itoshi x fem!reader ✧ swearing, rough unprotected sex, rin lowk toxic

you suck at econ. bad. and apparently, rin itoshi is the only student in your year with high enough marks and a flexible enough schedule to agree to tutor you.

unfortunately, he hates your guts. "try again," rin says, voice flat, tapping the desk with his pen as you squint at the problem set in front of you. "you're not even reading the question right."

"i am," you huff, chewing your pen cap. "it just doesn't make sense."

"because you're thinking with your ego instead of your brain."

you glare at him. "you're kind of an asshole, you know that?"

he doesn't even look at you. "and you're kind of stupid."

your breath catches. you should slap him. kick him out. cancel the tutor lessons. but instead, your thighs press together under the desk. rin notices, of course he does. his eyes drop for a second and that subtle shift in his posture, the way his jaw ticks, you recognize it now. he's trying not to react.

so you smirk, and lean forward just a little too far, breasts pressing against the edge of the table. "maybe if you weren't so mean, i'd be better at this." he looks up slowly, his gaze dragging over your face, then your chest, then your lips. his voice lowers.

"is this what this is`" he murmurs. "you trying to flirt your way through this?"

you blink. "what if i am?"

he drops the pen. the tension snaps like a wire. in one second, rin's out of his chair and shoving everything off the desk with one sweep of his arm. your notes, calculator, laptop, all gone. the next second, he's grabbing your jaw and dragging you into a kiss so rough it knows the breath from your lungs.

"you don't know what you're doing," he says, already hiking up your skirt, yanking your cute panties down. don't fuck with me."

you moan as his fingers slide between your legs, spreading your slick folds, two of them plunging in deep without warning. "fuck- rin-"

"you've been teasing me for week," he mutters, thrusting them hard as he licks into your neck. "the skirts, the fucking lip gloss. sucking pens like you imagine it's my cock."

you try to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. "and now you're gonna sit on this desk and take it like a good little dumb slut, since that's all you're actually good at."

he pulls his sweats down just enough to free his cock, long, flushed and leaking, and without warning, he presses the tip against your entrance and shoves in all at once. your cry is sharp, needy, head thrown back as your walls clamp down around him.

"fuuuck," rin groans. "tight little cunt. knew it'd be like this." he sets a brutal pace from the start, slamming into you over and over and over, the desk creaking under both of you. one hand grips your throat, not choking, just holding you there. the other wraps around your thigh, yanking you closer.

you're a mess. moaning, clawing at his shoulders, your body jerking with every thrust. "wanted me to fuck you dumb?" he hisses. "that's it? couldn't solve a single fucking problem, but now look at you-"

"i'm trying- fuck- mmh-!"

"you're not, you're just a fucking distraction," he whispers into your ear. "all you ever do is make me think of how good you'd look on your knees-"

"you think 'bout me?"

his grip on your thigh tightens. "all the fucking time."

you sob as he thrusts in deeper, angling just right to hit the spot that makes your eyes roll back. "can't jerk off without thinking of your voice," he mutters. "came to your fucking pic on your instagram once. hated myself for it."

your cunt squeezes around him. "rin- please- i'm close-"

he moans like it hurts. "go on. want this pussy leaking all over my cock."

you fall apart on his dick, clenching around him as you cry out, tears streaking your cheeks as he fucks you through it. your orgasm crashes over you like a wave and rin never stops. "gonna fill you up," he moans. "fuck a baby into you if i have to. mark you from the inside out."

"yes- mmf- please. i wan' it!"

he slams in one last time and holds there, hips grinding against you as he spills inside. his jaw slackens, a moan spilling from his lips as his cum floods your cunt, warmth pooling deep inside. you're both breathing hard, soaked in sweat, his cock still twitching inside of you.

"second round if i answer all the questions right?" you whisper.

he huffs, biting your shoulder. "shut up."

[sukirichi]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏

+ umemiya hajime & togame jo (was gonna include suo but i got nervous characterizing him, sobs.) + angst, minimal fluff. mentions of timeskip. (pssp!! i’m new to writing windbreaker but if you guys want to request ficlets/headcanons like these, feel free!) + 3.4k wc

divider from @/saradika-graphics

— UMEMIYA HAJIME.

The night’s cool air bit at your skin as you stepped out of the restaurant. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fight back the urge to look back at your date. The blind date your friends had set up was, to your surprise, not entirely disastrous. He was a charming architect, and a friend of a friend. Had a nice smile and the prettiest set of teeth you’d seen, with the kind of humor that elicited polite, yet casual laughter from you. It was… a good date.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the lingering emptiness in your heart – the void no one had been able to fill since he’d left.

You walked slowly, your thoughts drifting back to the past like it always did. You and Hajime had started dating when you were teenagers, a time when holding hands and stealing cheek kisses were the biggest deal between couples who loved a little too much, and knew a little too less.

Your relationship with him had been a well-guarded secret. Your parents were strict, said you were “too young to know anything about love.” Hajime was also the leader of a gang, albeit with noble intentions. Not that your parents would understand – they hear the word ‘gangster’ and immediately thought (or would’ve, if they’d met him) as a troublemaker. They wouldn’t take the time to know that his gang protected people from the real threats, the dangerous gangsters who roamed around the neighborhood. Your father would never understand it, and he would never have accepted Hajime.

Your love had been intense, the kind that only young hearts could know and experience only once in your lives. You’d whispered promises under the stars of marrying each other someday, stole kisses in hidden corners, and dreamt of a future together. A future that consisted of grandkids running out a minivan, and your hair would match Hajime’s iciness with old age.

Until that day where he just… left.

Hajime had broken up with you without warning, without explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. It felt like your heart had been brutally ripped out from your chest. You remember crying for days, months even, waiting for him to come back – to tell you it was a mistake. But he never did. He disappeared, leaving behind only memories and an aching void that hadn’t been filled for the next years.

So lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance until you nearly walked into him. You looked up, your breath catching in your throat.

White hair, icy blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin turning red from the cold.

Hajime.

He’d changed since you last saw him. His hair was shorter, short enough that he couldn’t gel it and have you brush his bangs back for him like you always used to. His face was more mature, too, but his eyes – the same warm, kind eyes you’d spent hours staring into – were unmistakable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you blurring into an insignificant image.

“Hajime,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He says your name softly, like your name itself was the world and he had to hold it with steady, careful hands. And he used to, once. Before he let it go. He scans your face as you gaze back at him, unmoving, as if trying to make sure if you were real. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you agree with a short nod, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

When Hajime smiled, it held no happiness in it. “I was just passing by. How have you been?”

“Good,” you lie, forcing a smile as you switch your weight from foot to foot. “I just finished a date, actually,” you jerk a thumb back at the restaurant, and Hajime’s gaze follows it.

“I see,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… I hope it went well.”

“It did,” you replied, though the words felt hollow despite your honesty. That was the worst part, it seemed. The date did go well – he was charming, gentlemanly, and seemed genuinely interested in you. Had it been another universe where you’d met, you would’ve agreed at his offer to a second date, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in this universe they had given you Hajime, took him away from you, and cruelly made your paths cross again. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. But I did leave the gang,” he informs, making your eyes widen. “I’ve been working in community outreach, helping at-risk youth. Trying to make a difference.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say, and you mean it. It isn’t surprising that Hajime has gone down this path; he’d always been full of compassion and integrity. A truly good man at his core. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”

Silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Even after so many years, you could read him like the back of your hand. Hajime had always worn his heart on a sleeve, the longing in his eyes mirroring your own. “Hajime,” your voice breaks as you dared take a step closer, “Why did you leave? Why did you disappear without a word?”

He looks away, his face falling. “Your dad found out about us,” he confesses quietly, “He asked me to leave you alone for your safety. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you away from harm and I – I’m not invincible, you know? He was right. Even if I did my best to protect you, as long as you’re with me, you were bound to get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you just left? Without telling me why?”

“I thought it was the best way to protect you,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I thought you would be better off without me.”

“But I wasn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping away the tears that fell. “I was heartbroken, Hajime. I waited for you. Do you know how long I spent hanging around the neighborhood, hoping you’d show up and tell me you’d changed your mind? I-I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

Hajime steps closer, regret pooling at his eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

All those years of pain and longing rose to the surface. “I missed you so much,” you say with a shaky voice. “Every day, Hajime. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he echoes, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought about you all the time. I wanted to come back, to explain everything, but I was afraid. Afraid that you’d moved on, that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stead yourself, hands clenching at your sides. “I never moved on, Hajime,” you whispered, “No one else could ever take your place.”

He reached out, gently brushing the tears that fell in a steady stream down your cheek. The warmth of his hand was welcomed in the night’s cold air, and you leant into it despite yourself. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “I should have fought harder for us. I should have told you the truth.”

The two of you stood there, the world around you forgotten as you were lost in each other’s eyes. The years apart had been cruel, but in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The familiar warmth of his gaze, the gentle curve of his smile – it all came rushing back to you, as vivid as the day you first met. The first time he’d taken your hand, the first time he’d hesitantly, yet eagerly, kissed you. You were just teenagers then, reckless and full of dreams, hiding in the shadows of your parents’ disapproval.

You could still recall the thrill of sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet him, the adrenaline of running into his arms through the streets, or the way he would wrap his arms around you to keep you warm on those chilly nights. The way he looked at you during those secret meetings, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. And his laughter, so genuine and infectious, had been your favorite sound.

You’d shared everything – your fears, your hopes, your plans for a future that seemed so close yet somehow always just out of reach.

“Is it too late for us?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Hajime shakes his head, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “It’s never too late. If you’ll have me again, I want to make things right. I want to be with you – to be the right one for you. Someone you wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I want that, too,” you say, your heart still full of love and longing for this man. “I never want to hide anymore, Hajime.”

— TOGAME JO.

When Hajime pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you feel whole again for the first time in years. The past had been painful, but it also led you back to each other – just like how he once said he would always look for you, in every lifetime, in every timeline. And as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, you knew and believed, that this time around, you would both be strong enough to overcome anything.

The nightclub was packed with people, the music pounding through the speakers, and the air thick with laughter and drunk conversations. You were out with your friends tonight, celebrating the end of a long week. For once, you felt free and unburdened. The neon lights flickered overhead, its colorful shadows dancing across the humid, jam-packed room.

You make your way to the dance floor, a sense of exhilaration passing over you. It had been years since you could go out like this – not needing a boyfriend’s permission, and doing whatever you liked, whenever you liked. Not that your exes were the controlling type – especially not Jo. Although looking back on it now, you wished he was a little bit controlling, just to show that he’d cared. Instead, Jo just nodded and hummed in response whenever you told him you were going out with friends, unbothered.

It had been two years since you last saw him, your first serious boyfriend after a string of failed situationships. You had shared so much with him, and yet, it had ended in a way that left a lingering ache that wouldn’t go away even after five drinks. The memories of your time together with Jo, both the bad and the good, were never far from your mind.

You’d long stopped trying to forget about him, however. Togame Jo was just someone you never forgot. Once he’d crawled his way into your heart, he’d make a home of it and have you carry the memories with him wherever you went.

He was your first love, after all. You’d been inseparable when you first started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, the type where you both clearly yearned for each other yet never had enough courage to say it out loud. The type of longing where everyone around you knew of your feelings except the two of you, and poor Sakura had had enough watching ‘the two lovesick fools.’ For months, the line between friendship and lovers blurred. You and Jo found yourself sharing secret glances from across the room, stiffening when the other’s knuckles brushed together, and heavily denying that no, they wouldn’t like me back, when it was as written in both your faces how badly you wanted each other.

And you did have each other, eventually. But as the months went by, things began to change.

Jo had become too relaxed, too comfortable now that he had you. He couldn’t see what you needed, or tell what it was you longed for – flowers, surprises, little gestures to show that he cared. Instead, your relationship had become routine. He rarely took you out on dates; most of your time was spent in his apartment, cuddling or sleeping, because Togame Jo slept like a log. And sure, you’d liked it at first. Basked in it even. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, and to wake up with your legs intertwined with each other, to hear his voice heavy with sleep call out your name.

Until the days became nothing but that – rotting in bed together. Each time you brought up wanting to spend time with him on a real date, Jo would just pull you back under the sheets, claiming you were warm and smelled too nice for him to want to leave the bed. It was something that upset you deeply, making you feel lonely even when he was right next to you.

You’d tried talking to him about it, but he never seemed to understand.

Jo was sweet and kind, but naïve in the sense that he made you feel invisible. The final straw came when you realized that being with him felt more painful than being alone. You’d hoped that he would fight for you, to ask you to stay, to see how much you were hurting and want to fix things. But when you said you felt like you and him weren’t working out anymore, all he’d said was, “Okay. If breaking up is what will make you happy, I respect that.”

You’re brought back to the present as the beat of the music pulled you onto the dance floor. You lost yourself in the rhythm, enjoying the moment, when someone bumped into you from behind. You whipped around, ready to apologize, only to be stunned into silence as you stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.

Togame says your name, his eyes wide as he balances a drink in his hand. “Jo,” you breathed out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest. Here he was, standing right in front of you after all these years.

“Hey,” he says, inching closer so you could hear him through the loud music. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has!” you replied, your voice barely audible over the noise. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” he says, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “And you?”

“Good, too!” you said, though it felt like a lie. Seeing him brought back all the unresolved feelings, the questions you had never asked, the words you had never said.

Before either of you could say more, the music shifted to a slower beat. The crowd around you moved in closer, forcing you and Jo to bump bodies until your chests were pressed against each other. Without thinking, Jo downs his drink in one and starts to dance with you, your bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm.

It was as if no time had passed at all, the familiarity of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The previous awkwardness began to melt away as you danced, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. It was both comforting and painful – a reminder of what you had lost. Years ago, before you started dating, you and Jo had been in the exact predicament – grinding and dancing on each other at some lame club Choji had VIP access too, touching each other yet still too hesitant to say what you truly felt. It felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Do you remember our first date?” Jo asked suddenly, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, you spilled your drink all over yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a pang through your heart. “Yeah, I thought I’d ruined everything. But you just laughed and said it was the best date you’d ever been on.”

“It was,” you say, your voice catching. “You were so sweet, Jo. You always were.”

“I tried,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I really did.”

The two of you continued to dance, the music swirling around you. The years apart seemed to disappear, leaving you both in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

 “Why did it end like that?” he asked after a while, his voice barely audible. “Why did you leave?”

You take a deep breath, the memories of your breakup – and the events leading to it – flooding back. “I felt like you didn’t see me anymore,” your voice trembles. “You stopped doing the little things that made me feel special. You were always so relaxed, so comfortable, and I felt… lonely.”

“I didn’t know,” Jo frowns, and you know he means it. He looked so confused; like hearing this from you now made everything clear, and all the while more confusing. “I thought everything was fine. I thought you were happy. I thought we were happy.”

“I tried to tell you,” you remind him, with tears stinging your eyes. Those endless nights of trying to be subtle, showing him photos of flower bouquets and mentioning twice about this restaurant you’ve been eyeing in hopes he’d take you there. He never did, because Jo liked the sight of you cooking in his apartment more. “But you never understood. And when I finally said we weren’t working out, you just agreed. You didn’t fight for us, Jo.”

His grip on your hips tightens, then falters. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought if I let you go, you’d be happier.”

“I missed you,” you finally admit, circling your arms around his thick neck and pressing your forehead against his. “Even after everything, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes closing as he breathes in your perfume. “Every day.”

You continued to dance, your bodies swaying gently to the music – simply because you’d both lost the words to say. As you moved in unison, your eyes don’t stray from each other, soaking in the other’s presence because it might be the last time you’d ever hold each other like this again. For a moment, it felt like you were healing, like you were finally letting go of the past.

In his embrace, there was a sense of closure, a quite promise that despite everything, one thing stayed true: you loved each other truly. The bitterness of your separation melted away, leaving behind a tender acknowledgement of what you had once meant everything to each other. It wasn’t a return to what you’d lost, but the shared knowledge that your history still held value. Now, it was time to step forward, and finally find peace.

Finally, the song ends. You pull apart from him slightly, your gazes still locked. There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you still felt. But for now, this was enough. You’d found each other again, even if it was just for a short, fleeting moment.

And it was in his eyes, too – the unspoken question if you could try one more time.

Everything in your heart and mind wanted to say yes. Yes, come back to me, Jo. Come back to me and I’ll spend forever in your bed, but it was too early. The wounds too fresh. You knew that going back to the same place and person that hurt you wouldn’t heal you. It was impossible. And Jo knew that, too.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, pulling away and detangling his arms from yours. Already, you were missing the heat of him, the strength of his body against yours.

“You too, Jo,” you reply, your heart aching for him one last time.

You part ways again – Jo with Choji and your mutual friends you’d said goodbye too, and you back to the new friends you’d made when you tried building a world that didn’t revolve around him. But this time, it felt different.

You’d acknowledged your past, and while it still hurt – saying goodbye to Jo never felt easy – it also felt like a step toward the right direction. And as you walked away, you glanced back at him one last time, seeing Jo standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave his world once more.

[fatecantstopme]

She's My Siren

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: The boys are working a case where several men have brutally murdered their wives for no apparent reason. Turns out they were influenced by a siren. The siren sees Dean and appears to him as someone he knows.

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting. Fluffy fluff fluff.

"So what do you think this is? Just a bunch of dudes ganking their wives?"

"I mean, that's what's happening," Sam replied with a shrug. "but I think something is making them do it."

"Well they're not possessed, so what's doing it?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe we should call Bobby and (Y/N)."

Dean groaned. "She's gonna laugh at us for not figuring it out."

Sam smiled. "Probably, but we do need their help."

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed a very familiar number.

"Hey Sam. Having some trouble?" Bobby answered on the second ring.

"We can't figure out what's causing these guys to kill their wives."

"Tell me what you've got so far," (Y/N)'s voice said from the other end of the phone.

Sam put the phone on speaker so Dean could talk. "All we've got is four guys who murdered their wives for basically no reason. No possession, no shapeshifters, nada."

"All the husbands knew exactly what they were doing...and they all regret it," Sam added.

"Anything else?" Bobby asked.

"All of them met their 'perfect' woman not long before killing their wives," Dean answered.

"Define 'perfect'," (Y/N) said.

"They all said 'she was perfect in every way. Exactly what I wanted'," Sam responded.

The boys couldn't see the look Bobby and (Y/N) exchanged, but they did hear her soft chuckle. "And you boys couldn't think of anything that could fit that description?"

Dean gave Sam an 'I told you so' look. "I'm guessing you have something in mind?" he said aloud.

"I do indeed," she answered. "Ever hear of a Siren?"

"A Siren?" Dean asked. "Like Greek Mythology?"

Sam gave Dean a surprised look.

"I can read, you know," Dean mumbled.

"Yes, like Greek Mythology," (Y/N) said with a small smile. "What do you remember from the stories?"

"Uhh...they're super hot women who lured sailors to their deaths?" Dean said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and Bobby chuckled. "Sort of," Bobby replied. "They're actually quite hideous, but they can read minds. They appear to the guy as their ideal perfect woman, put some mojo on them, and make them kill."

"What kind of mojo?" Dean asked.

"Don't really know," Bobby answered. "Siren songs aren't really songs...more like a spell that falls on the person."

"Okay, so how do we find her?" Sam asked.

"Honestly, boys, my money is on her finding you," (Y/N) said.

"Great," Dean mumbled. "So...how do we kill a Siren?"

"We're...uh--gonna have to get back to you on that one," Bobby said.

"Just keep your eyes peeled and don't do anything stupid," (Y/N) said. "We'll get back to you as soon as we find something."

"Thanks guys," Sam said before hanging up.

"Sooo a Siren, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"Who do you think she's gonna look like?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Probably one of those chicks from 'Busty Asian Beauties' you're obsessed with."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Hell yes. Let's go find us a Siren."

**********

(Y/N) and Bobby had been digging through lore books for hours before they managed to find something potentially useful.

"I love a good 3,000 year old text," (Y/N) mumbled in annoyance.

"I'm not even sure what it means," Bobby responded.

"You're supposed to be the expert, Singer," she teased.

He chuckled. "Let me see it again."

He took the book from her and read the passage again...and again...and one more time for effect. "I think I've got it."

Bobby explained his reasoning to her and she agreed. She placed a call to Sam, but he didn't answer. When she called Dean, he picked up almost immediately.

"You got something for me, sweetheart?"

An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her body at the pet name. She was used to him calling her that and other similar names, but it never ceased to have an effect on her. She knew he called all the girls 'sweetheart', so she knew it didn't mean anything...not that she wanted it to...right?

"Bobby and I think we figured out how to kill her."

"Lay it on me."

She cleared her throat. "Uh, you'll need a stake, dipped in the blood of someone actively under her spell...then just stab her."

"Okay, sounds easy enough. We'll just get some blood from one of the poor saps sitting in a jail cell."

"Not quite, Dean," Bobby cut in. "The guy has to be actively under her spell...none of those guys are anymore."

"Damn. Okay, so how do we get it?"

"I have a terrible plan, but it should work," (Y/N) said.

"I'm always down for a terrible plan," Dean responded.

"Find the Siren, one of you gets dosed, the other uses his blood to gank her."

"You want us to get dosed?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Obviously not, but it's a surefire way to get the job done. As long as only one of you gets dosed."

"What happens if we both get it?"

"You'll probably try to kill each other," Bobby answered.

"Great. That's just great," Dean grumbled.

"If you've got a better plan, go for it," (Y/N) said with a shrug.

"We'll make it work. I'll call you when we're finished." Dean hung up without another word.

(Y/N) and Bobby exchanged another glance.

"Carvistly is what, three hours from here?" she asked.

Bobby nodded. "We should probably head that way."

"Agreed."

**********

"Any luck tracking down the Siren?" Dean asked when Sam walked into the motel room.

"Nope. Any word from Bobby or (Y/N)?"

"Got a way to kill her and a...rather terrible plan."

Dean explained (Y/N)'s plan, as well as how to kill the Siren.

"You're right, that's a terrible plan," Sam said when Dean finished.

"Yeah, but it's all we've got."

"Fine...but how do we find her? I mean, I've talked to all the vics and they all described a different chick. We have no idea what she's gonna look like."

"That's true. Guess we'll just have to hang out at the bar and hope she comes to us."

"We're lucky there's only one bar in town," Sam commented.

"Dude, for real."

The two hunters made their way to the bar and got themselves a high top table towards the back of the room, giving them a good vantage point of the rest of the bar.

"Do we even know how she's picking her targets?" Dean asked.

"Well, all of the guys have been married so far, but I'm sure she'll go for just about any guy desperate enough," Sam answered with a pointed look.

"What's the look for? You saying I'm desperate?"

Sam shrugged.

"I'm not desperate."

"Right...when was the last time you got laid?"

Dean scoffed. "All the time, man."

Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean groaned.

"Okay, fine, so it's been a while. That doesn't make me desperate."

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean grumbled as he took a swig of his beer. He was not desperate. Absolutely not. Dean Winchester was never desperate. Maybe he just hadn't been horny lately...a man doesn't need to get laid every day. It had absolutely nothing to do with a certain hunter he couldn't get off his mind. Definitely not.

Sam was scanning the bar, looking for anyone who seemed out of place...but no one was catching his eye. He felt a little bad for teasing his brother, but he just wanted Dean to admit the truth.

"I'm gonna hit the head," Dean mumbled.

He watched Dean walk to the bathroom, several pairs of eyes on him the entire time. Most were women, but none of them stood out as concerning. Just the typical hot bimbos Dean always seemed to take home.

Sam's mind began to wander a bit while he waited for his brother to return. He had a lot on his mind and working this job was, unfortunately, not his priority.

Dean made his way back from the bathroom, jarring Sam out of his trance. "I'm gonna get another beer. Want anything?"

"No thanks, I'm good," Sam replied.

Dean walked off towards the bar and Sam's eyes followed him out of habit. Dean was halfway to the bar when a woman approached him. Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw her. Had Dean not told him (Y/N) had called from Bobby's two hours ago, he would have been certain she was here in the bar.

He watched the woman walk up to Dean and touch his arm, and he was out of his seat and heading their direction in an instant.

"Hey there, handsome," a woman said from beside him, her hand touching his arm.

When Dean turned to face her, shock lit up his handsome face. He knew it wasn't her, but the resemblance was so uncanny, he almost believed it for a moment.

Realizing the woman before him was the Siren, he quickly regained his cool. "Well hello to you too," he said with a smirk.

"How 'bout you buy me a drink?" she said lightly.

Her voice is wrong, he thought to himself. "I'd love to," he said aloud.

He followed her towards the bar, turning to see Sammy following close behind. The expression on Sam's face told him that his little brother knew what was happening.

Dean held back a little, allowing Sam to catch up to him.

"Dude, she--" Sam began.

Dean glared at him. “Not of word of this to (Y/N), Sammy. Not a word.”

Feeling a little more comfortable knowing his backup was there, Dean continued to follow the Siren. When they reached the bar, he ordered a beer and she ordered some fruity cocktail.

"So what's your name, beautiful?" Dean asked.

"Kimberly."

"Hi, Kimberly. I'm Dean." I guess she doesn't know everything...

"It's nice to meet you, Dean."

The bartender handed them their drinks and Dean followed her to a solitary booth in the far corner of the bar. Dean noticed Sam taking a seat not too far away.

The Siren leaned in close and began chatting with Dean, laying on the flirtation very thick. Despite the fact she was literally wearing the face of the one woman Dean really loved, he found it very hard to reciprocate.

Thankfully, the Siren didn't seem to notice. In all honesty, Dean's bad flirting was better than most of the population's good flirting.

A half hour and another round of drinks later, Dean found himself mere inches from the Siren. Her scent was intoxicating, and he wondered for a moment if that was the 'mojo'...except he didn't feel any different. He knew it had to be something else.

"Your lips look so soft," the Siren muttered as she reached up a hand to touch them.

"They are," Dean murmured as he leaned in closer. "Wanna find out?"

She smiled and for a moment--just a moment--Dean forgot that it wasn't her. His eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. He was instantly intoxicated by her...he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed at him, reminding him she was a Siren, but the feeling of desire--of mindless devotion--quickly overcame the voice.

After what felt like an eternity, she broke the kiss. Dean was breathless, but he knew he would have happily suffocated to death kissing her.

"Why don't you take me back to your place?" she asked, voice suddenly sultrier than he remembered it being before.

He wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed, so he agreed without hesitation. Dean took her by the hand and guided her outside, helping her into the Impala, and taking off without a second thought.

Sam came running out of the bar, just in time to see Dean speeding away with the Siren in his passenger seat. "Shit..."

When Dean arrived back at the motel, he escorted "Kimberly" into his room. "Sorry for the mess," he said quickly as he knocked a few books off his bed.

"Don't worry," she said as she came up to him and ran her hands up his chest. "I don't mind a little mess."

Dean looked down at her and let out a soft groan. "God, you are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled knowingly. She had been more than a little surprised when she read his mind at the bar...it was rare to meet a man who's ideal girl wasn't a tall, thin, bombshell, especially a man who looked like him. But she knew what he wanted and she was more than happy to give it to him...until she got what she wanted.

Dean kissed her passionately and pulled her down onto the bed with him. He began to slowly peel off her clothes and she tugged at his shirt. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head.

Suddenly, someone knocked on their door.

Dean groaned. "Ignore it."

She was happy to do so and continued to kiss him.

"Dean!" Sam yelled from the other side of the door.

Dean pulled away for a moment. "Kinda busy here Sammy," he called.

"Open the damn door, Dean! She's not who you think!"

"Don't listen to him," the Siren said. "He wants me all to himself."

Dean's eyes darkened. "But you're mine."

"That's right, sweetie. All yours," she purred. "And I can be yours forever if you just get rid of him."

"Get rid of him?"

"You have to kill him, Dean, or he'll take me away from you."

"That's never gonna happen, baby." Dean stood up and crossed the room.

The moment he opened the door, Sam punched him in the face, sending him spiraling back into the room. The Siren watched with a smile as the two men fought each other.

"Dean, you gotta snap out of it!" Sam yelled.

"You can't have her. I won't let you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kimberly's mine, Sammy," Dean insisted as he swung at his brother.

Sam ducked out of the way and slipped behind him. Dean swung his foot around and managed to knock Sam to the floor.

The Siren stood off to the side, egging Dean on. "Kill him for me, Dean. We can be together if you just kill him."

Dean was on top of Sam, punching him repeatedly. Sam reached into his jacket and managed to grab ahold of the stake. He jabbed Dean in the arm and kneed him in the groin with a mumbled apology.

Dean groaned loudly and Sam pushed him off and onto the floor. When he stood up, the Siren noticed the stake in his hand, but it was too late. Sam was blocking her exit. She turned to run towards the window, but Sam was faster. He stabbed the stake into her back and she fell to the ground with a scream and a thud.

Sam turned back to his brother, who was now kneeling on the floor. "You okay, Dean?"

Dean looked up at him with a glare. "Did you really have to go for the goods, man?"

Sam chuckled lightly. "Sorry about that, but you were being a dick."

"I was hopped up on Siren juice, dude!"

"Well lookie here, guess they don't need our help after all," Bobby said from the open doorway.

(Y/N) came up beside him with a smirk. "Nice work you two. We thought you might need some backup, but looks like we were wrong."

"We can help with the body dump at least," Bobby said.

Bobby and (Y/N) stepped into the room and Dean yelled "no!" in an oddly high pitched voice. (Y/N) did her best not to look in Dean's direction, despite his outburst...his shirtless form made her stomach do somersaults.

"Jesus, Sam, how hard did you hit him?" Bobby asked.

Dean scrambled to get to his feet, but he wasn't fast enough to stop (Y/N) from seeing the Siren. Sam had reached for her, but he saw the look on her face and knew it was too late.

"I don't think that's his problem..." (Y/N) said softly, pointing to the body of the Siren.

Bobby came up beside her and cursed under his breath. He and Sam made eye contact and slowly started to back out of the room.

"Does anyone want to tell me why the Siren looks like my twin?" (Y/N) asked, stopping everyone in their tracks. She turned to fix all three men with a hard stare.

"We're just gonna...umm--go, uh anywhere else," Bobby said. He grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him from the room, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) fixed her intense gaze on Dean. "Well?"

"I--um, well--you see, I...um." He couldn't quite meet her eyes.

(Y/N)'s expression softened. She could see his discomfort matched her own. "Sit," she said gently, gesturing to the bed nearest the door. "And maybe put on a shirt."

Dean sat down, tugging his shirt back over his head. She sat across from him, finally able to look at him without feeling incredibly awkward.

"It just sorta...happened," Dean mumbled.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah--you musta been on my mind when she read it, ya know? So she made herself look like you." He didn't want to tell her the truth...all this time he'd spent pretending he didn't feel this way was going to be thrown out the window in an instant.

"That's not how it works, Dean," she said softly. "Sirens can see your innermost desire...the woman of your dreams."

Dean let out a little groan and bit his lip. He exhaled heavily and finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Guess there's no point in lying then."

She shook her head. "Not really."

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest. It was so loud that he was surprised (Y/N) couldn't hear it. She looked beautiful, sitting there with a confused and concerned expression on her face. For the first time in the years he'd known her, he was struggling to push his feelings back down. Now that the box had been opened, he couldn't put them back.

"She didn't get your voice right," he said softly.

"What?"

"Your voice...it wasn't right. It was missing the softness...the--" he struggled to find the right word, "--the melody."

"You think my voice is melodious?" she asked in surprise.

"I think it's the most beautiful sound in the world."

She laughed, thinking he had to be joking. When his expression didn't change, her laughter came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, you're serious..."

"I changed my mind. Your voice is the second most beautiful sound in the world."

She swallowed thickly. "What's the first?"

Dean smirked as he crossed the short space between them and sat on the bed directly beside her. "Your laugh," he whispered.

Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. His expression was something she'd never seen on his face before, but it sure looked a hell of a lot like lust.

"Dean..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm clumsily telling you how I feel about you," he answered honestly.

"That you like my laugh and my voice?"

He sighed. "I like them because they're yours."

She wanted to believe it, but she couldn't wrap her brain around the idea that Dean Winchester liked her. It wasn't even remotely possible, so he clearly had to still be under the Siren's spell. There had to be some alternate explanation for why the Siren took on her appearance.

"I guess the Siren's mojo really screwed with your head."

Dean shook his head. "It didn't mess with my head, (Y/N/N). It just made me face something I've felt for a long time."

Her breathing sped up as she stared into his eyes. "And what is it you feel?"

"Affection," he answered. "Adoration...devotion, desire, longing." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her cheek. "Love," he finished softly.

She inhaled sharply, disbelief evident on her face. "You love me?"

"With everything I have."

"Why?"

Surprise lit up his face and he dropped his hand. "Why? What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, why would you love me of all people?"

"I don't really know how to answer that...I just--I just do."

She shook her head and stood up. She began to pace and the words tumbled from her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. "There is absolutely no way that you, Dean Winchester, love me. I mean, look at you! You're literally perfection in human form. Every woman on planet earth with a set of working eyeballs wants you. You could have your pick of any fish in the sea! I've seen the women you go home with, Dean, and they sure as hell don't look like me. I'm not what any man would use to define the 'ideal woman'...I'm short, I'm certainly not thin--I've got hips and thighs and a big ass, not to mention large boobs and a soft stomach. There is nothing special about me. Someone like you isn't meant to be with someone like me."

Dean stood up and grabbed her, pulling her to a stop directly in front of him. "Are you done now?"

She was slightly breathless as she nodded.

"Okay, good. Now listen--I'm not perfect. Not even close. I'm aware that I'm attractive, but inside? Shit, (Y/N), I'm damaged goods. Beyond damaged. Why do you think I only bring home chicks that look like that? Baby, they're easy to entice home and there's zero strings attached. I've kept my feelings buried for so long, it just became easier to pretend they didn't exist. It kept you safe...I didn't want to expose you to the darkness that lives inside me. You deserve so much better than me, (Y/N)."

She stood there in stunned silence--unable to grasp a single word to say.

"And another thing--you're my ideal woman. I don't give a damn what society's beauty standards are. For the record, I love your thick thighs and that gorgeous ass of yours. I love your boobs, and your hips, and your stomach--baby, I love all of you. You're perfect. So don't you dare tell me you're not meant to be with someone like me...because in reality, I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"Dean," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to stamp out the terror that she was about to rip his heart out. He opened his eyes again and saw the whirlwind of emotions in her eyes. "Yes?" he asked tentatively.

"Please kiss me," she murmured.

He didn't need to be told twice. His lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss. He moaned softly, licking against her lips, silently begging to be let in.

She parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry. She sighed as he tightened his grip on her, pulling her flush against his chest.

Dean deepened the kiss, large hands roaming her soft body until they landed on her round ass. He gave it a light squeeze and she responded with a little moan.

Dean broke the kiss to begin trailing down her jaw to her neck. His lips felt like heaven against her skin and she clung to him, head tossed back in pleasure.

He nipped at her pulse point and she moaned softly, eliciting a growl from deep in his chest. He pulled away from her, slightly breathless, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I take it back," he whispered.

"What?"

"I've got a new favorite sound."

She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

He grinned devilishly. "Those pretty little moans you make? Those are my new favorite."

Her eyes widened slightly, but a small smile played at her lips. "I bet if you try hard enough, you can hear a few more."

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Uhhh guys?" Sam suddenly said from the doorway.

They both turned their heads to face him, embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

"Little busy here, Sammy," Dean grumbled.

"I can see that, but umm...dead monster body," he said as he pointed at the Siren's body.

"Gross," Dean mumbled. "I forgot about that."

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. "We should probably take care of that."

He nodded. "We'll pick up where we left off later." He shot her a wink and gave her another kiss before peeling himself off of her.

**********

An hour later, the body had been properly disposed of and everyone was ready to head home.

"You boys wanna come back to my place and rest for a few days?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked over at (Y/N) before turning his attention back to the older man. "Yeah, Bobby, I think we could use the rest." He glanced back over at (Y/N) just in time to see the soft smile on her lips.

Bobby nodded. "Sam, why don't you ride with me?"

Sam looked confused for a moment, but realization quickly lit up his face. "Oh, yeah--right. Sure. I'll uh, see you guys later, then."

"Mhm," Dean hummed, clearly not really listening anymore.

Bobby and Sam got into Bobby's car and drove off, leaving Dean and (Y/N) alone.

"So, uh...whatcha say we stop at the nearest motel on the way?" Dean asked with a sheepish grin.

She smiled. "I think I could be persuaded."

He grinned fully, reaching out to grab ahold of her and pull her into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to take her right then and there, but he wanted better for her. Her kiss lit a fire inside of him that burned more brightly than he had ever felt before. He wanted her with a kind of desperation he had never known was possible.

"Why don't we skip the motel," she whispered against his lips.

"Huh?"

She glanced at the Impala. "The backseat is pretty spacious."

He chuckled. "It's plenty big enough, but I don't want our first time together to be in the back of a car. I wanna make love to you properly--on a bed."

She smiled, practically melting against him. "Then you better drive fast, because I don't know how long I can wait."

His eyes widened. "Yes ma'am."

She laughed lightly as he opened up the car door for her and she slid into the passenger seat. Dean ran to the other side of the car and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and he sped off toward the highway.

**********

"Oh thank God," Dean mumbled about 20 minutes into the drive. "There's a motel 10 miles up."

(Y/N) laughed warmly. "Step on it, handsome."

He grinned and laid his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. Less than 5 minutes later, Dean was pulling into the motel parking lot.

"I'll go get us a room. Should be quick," he said as he hopped out of the car.

A few minutes later, Dean returned with a room key in hand. He opened the car door and held out his hand for her to take.

"Come on, gorgeous. We've got important things to do," he said with a smile.

"Lead the way."

Dean had to consciously force himself to walk at a reasonable pace to the room. (Y/N)'s legs were a lot shorter than his and if he'd walked as fast as he wanted to, he would've been dragging her along.

As soon as they were in the room, Dean shut and locked the door.

(Y/N) glanced around. "Looks clean enou--"

Dean silenced the rest of her sentence with a well-timed heated kiss. He'd whipped her around and pressed her up against the door, hands gripping her hips as he kissed her passionately.

She gripped the edges of his shirt and tugged upwards, silently asking him to remove it. He pulled back, yanking the shirt off his head, before attaching his lips back to hers.

He slid his hands under her shirt and her body tensed up on instinct. She'd always hated people touching her stomach, but she did her best to push away her discomfort.

Despite her best efforts, Dean could feel her unease. "Baby, look at me," he whispered.

Her eyes met his and she visibly relaxed.

"I've got you, okay? I love you, I love your body, and I wanna touch and see every inch of it...but if you're not ready, I can wait."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his sweet words. Normally, she would have taken him up on his offer, but not now. She wanted this...wanted him...and that meant giving in completely.

She pushed him back ever so slightly, giving her enough space to unbutton her shirt and slip it off. It fell to the ground, leaving her upper half in just a bra.

She was self-conscious for no more than a moment. Dean's hungry eyes traced their way down her torso and back up, desire evident in his gaze.

He pressed his body up against hers again, a soft moan escaping his lips. "So fucking perfect," he whispered.

He slid his hands up her back and deftly unhooked her bra. She let him pull it off and toss it somewhere behind him. He groaned as he palmed each of her breasts in his large hands. He began to kneed them gently, pinching her nipples as she gasped.

Suddenly, his hands left her breasts and traveled to her thighs. "Jump," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

He gripped her thighs tightly. "Jump, baby. I've got you."

She looked at him like he was crazy, but she trusted him completely. She jumped up and Dean caught her with ease, tugging her legs around his waist. She locked her heels behind him and he pressed her back against the door.

Her breasts were now at the perfect height for his mouth to feast on...and feast on them he did. He sucked and nipped, his light stubble scratching against her skin deliciously.

His arms wrapped around her back and he lifted his head to look at her. "Keep those legs tight, okay?"

As soon as she nodded, he pulled away from the door and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, but instead of crawling on top of her, he stood at the end of the bed.

She sat up slightly. "Dean?"

He licked his lips and looked back up at her face. "Hmm?"

She crooked her finger, gesturing him to come to her.

Instead of climbing onto the bed, he leaned down and placed a kiss to her belly, just above her pants. "These should go," he murmured.

He made quick work of removing her jeans, his calloused hands gliding back up her legs to the hem of her underwear.

"I don't think you need these either." He tugged them off and threw them onto the ground.

She laid before him, completely bare, and she didn't feel self-conscious at all. She couldn't--not with the way he was looking at her.

His breathing was slightly labored as he stared at her. He palmed his painfully hard cock through his jeans, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

She sat up and licked her lips. "I can help you with that."

His eyes widened, pupils dilated to the point of obscuring his green irises. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and slid off the end of the bed, dropping to her knees before him. She looked up at him and slowly began to undo his belt.

"Holy fuck..." he murmured. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she undid the button on his jeans and slowly began to pull them down.

He helped her take them off completely before she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs. "These are in my way," she said huskily.

He yanked his underwear off with such speed, if she'd blinked she would have missed it. What she couldn't miss, however, was his surprisingly large member mere inches from her face.

Dean noticed her wide eyes and he grinned. "Like what you see, baby?"

Her lust-filled eyes flicked up to his. "I like every inch of you."

He wasn't sure if she was talking about his body or his cock, but he didn't have time to think about it. She gripped him tightly and slid her mouth onto his cock, eliciting a loud moan from him.

She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she began to move her head and her hands in an expert rhythm. He could barely breathe as he stared down at her...pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock and her big (y/e/c) eyes looking up at him.

He slid his fingers into her hair, pulling it back from her face so he could see it better. The blunt tips of his nails raked against her scalp as he tightened his grip, a moan of ecstasy escaping his lips.

"Fuck, baby...feels so good."

She moaned around his cock, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through him. His hips jilted forward slightly, causing her to gag a little. He instantly pulled back, not wanting to hurt her.

In response, she grabbed onto his upper thighs with both hands and tugged his hips forward, relaxing her throat as she did to take him even farther into her.

Her watery eyes met his in a silent plea. Dean was pretty sure he knew what she wanted, so he tentatively pulled back and thrust his hips forward gently.

Her eyes seemed to light up and she moaned loudly, giving him the confirmation he needed. He gripped her head with both of his hands and he began to fuck her pretty face.

(Y/N) tightened her grip on his thighs and desperately tried to keep her eyes open and on his face. She wanted to see him come undone more than anything. At this moment, she was just along for the ride.

Dean's grip on her hair tightened to an almost painful level, but she didn't complain. The moans and whispered pleas coming from his mouth were reward enough.

"Baby, I'm so close..." he groaned.

She released a deep moan and his eyes flicked down to meet hers. The moment his gaze found hers, he came with a moan of her name. (Y/N) didn't let go of his cock until she'd swallowed every last drop of his spend before finally releasing him.

He nearly collapsed on the bed, but through the fog in his brain, he remembered (Y/N) would have needs of her own.

"Come here, baby," he said softly as he reached for her. "Lie on the bed."

She stood up with his help and laid down on the bed, feet hanging over the edge. When Dean didn't move to join her, she began to shift uncomfortably.

"You're too far away," he insisted.

She immediately started to move closer to him, but he shook his head, grabbed her hips, and tugged her to the edge of the bed where he wanted her.

She gasped in surprise. "Dean!"

He grinned as he dropped to his knees. "What? I wanna taste you."

She looked a little shy. "You don't have to."

He looked at her in confusion. "I know I don't have to...I want to."

"Oh..."

"Baby, if you taste half as delicious as you look, then I'm going to be the happiest man in the world."

"Oh," she whispered in a slightly more surprised tone.

Dean grabbed her legs and threw one over each shoulder before diving into her pussy like a starving man at a feast.

"Oh!" What started out as a pleasantly surprised sound quickly turned to moans of enjoyment.

She'd known he would be good...after all, he had a lot of practice, but she hadn't expected to feel like this. Dean's mouth had been on her pussy for less than 30 seconds and she was already a gasping mess.

Her hand fisted his hair, tugging on it slightly, legs desperately searching for something to hold onto.

Dean was an incredibly fast learner. He paid attention to what made her moan, what made her grip his hair harder, what made her squirm...he was determined to be the absolute best she'd ever had.

"Dean," she gasped. "You--it--shit...feels so good."

He grinned against her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking intently. His tongue began to swirl around her clit, spelling out her name in fast-moving cursive.

"Oh god!"

Her legs began to tighten around his head and he had a vague thought about wanting to be smothered by her thighs...but the thought was pushed aside when she cried out, cumming all over his mouth and chin.

He hungrily lapped up as much as he could before she yanked on his hair and desperately tried to squirm away. "Sensitive, Dean!"

He finally allowed her to pull his head up and he stared at her pretty face as he licked his lips. "Infinitely better than I'd imagined," he murmured.

"Huh?" she asked, clearly still dazed from her orgasm.

He smiled as he crawled on top of her, placing a kiss to her lips. "You taste like heaven," he whispered.

She blushed, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for another kiss.

He'd found himself growing hard again while he was eating her out, and as he deepened the kiss, his cock brushed against her pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

He smiled against her lips. "(Y/N)?"

"Hmm?"

"If I told you I wanted to do something really really badly, would you be willing to do it for me?"

She cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "That would depend on what it is."

"Fair enough."

Suddenly, he flipped onto his back, taking her with him. She gasped as she found herself looking down at him from above. "You could have just asked," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh that?" He smirked darkly. "That's not what I want..."

Her breathing began to pick up pace again. "Then what do you want?"

He grinned wolfishly. "I wanna taste that sweet pussy again."

Her eyes widened. No one had ever eaten her out twice during sex. "But you just did..."

He nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers gently rubbing circles into her thighs. "Please baby? I would do anything."

She bit her lip. She couldn't deny, the idea of him wanting to eat her out again was an incredible turn-on...but she was still sensitive from a few minutes prior.

"Please," he begged again, green eyes widening.

She sighed, realizing there was no way she could say no to him when he was looking at her like that. "Alright."

He grinned. "That's my good girl. Now come up here."

Her pussy clenched around nothing at the praise, but then confusion settled on her face. "Come up...where?"

"Here," he said, patting his mouth. "I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What? No! Absolutely not. No way." She tried to scramble off of him, but his strong arms held her in place.

"Why not?" he pouted.

"Umm because I could seriously hurt you! Or I don't know, smother you to death!"

He laughed lightly. "I would die a very happy man."

"I'm serious, Dean! I'm not light!"

The smile disappeared from his face as he took in the shock and disbelief on hers. He sat up and ran his hand along her cheek. "Hey, baby, look at me."

Her eyes slowly shifted to meet his.

"(Y/N), I want this. Badly. Now, I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do, but I don't want you to say no out of some misguided desire to protect me. I'm more than capable of picking you up and tossing you around, so I promise you're not going to smother me or hurt me. I wanna feel those sexy thighs of yours wrapped around my head as I devour that sweet pussy."

His eyes darkened as he spoke and it lit something inside of her. She was scared of hurting him, but she could see how much he wanted this. "I'll--I'll try," she whispered.

He smiled. "That's my girl." He laid back down on the bed. "Now come here and have a seat, gorgeous."

She blushed, but did as he told her--mostly.

"Babe, I said sit."

"I am sitting," she protested.

"No, you're not." He grabbed her hips and tugged her down so she was directly against his lips. "Fuck yes," he mumbled into her before getting to work.

(Y/N) gasped loudly. This new position changed the angle of his tongue inside of her and his nose bumped against her clit every time he moved.

Within seconds, she was a moaning mess above him, hands grasping onto the headboard for stability. Her hips started to move of their own volition and Dean gripped her hips to help facilitate the movement.

She didn't know she could feel this incredible...her body was shaking with a pleasure she'd never felt before--every nerve ending alive with need.

"Dean, I can't--I need--please."

He tightened his hold on her hips and focused his tongue on her clit as she rode his face. Seconds later, she yelled his name as she orgasmed, drenching his face in her slick.

God help him, but he didn't want to stop. He'd never been happier. The sounds she made, her taste, the need to pleasure her...all of it made him want to never stop.

Unfortunately for him, (Y/N) managed to scramble away with cries of sensitivity. She collapsed on the bed beside him, trying to catch her breath. Her legs shook with the aftershocks of her orgasm as she came down from her high.

Dean wiped his mouth and turned to look at her, a wide grin gracing his handsome face. "Thoughts?"

"You can...do that...again...anytime you want," she said between breaths.

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, don't tempt me." He rolled on top of her and gave her a soft kiss to her lips. He slowly kissed along her jaw and down to her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

She had no idea how he knew that would drive her crazy, but she was glad he did. Despite her exhaustion, she wanted him...wanted to feel him so badly she could hardly breathe. "Dean..." she whispered.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I want you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Where?"

She fidgeted a little before murmuring, "Inside me."

He pressed his index finger against her lips. "Here?"

She shook her head.

"Then where, baby?"

She took his hand and guided it between her legs, placing it against her dripping pussy. "Here."

His eyes seem to sparkle as he looked down at her. He wanted to hear her demand what she wanted, but this was close enough for now.

"Anything for you, baby."

He sat up and gripped his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining himself up with her core. His eyes flicked up to hers and he asked softly, "You ready?"

She nodded.

"Words, baby."

"I'm ready, Dean, please."

He pushed into her slowly, eliciting a sharp moan from her lips. The stretch was deliciously painful, but she was desperate for him to keep going. She whined softly when he stopped to let her adjust, so he continued to push until he was fully seated inside of her.

He dropped his head down to her forehead, breathing heavily. He'd never been gripped this tightly in his life and it felt amazing.

(Y/N) had similar thoughts. He fit her perfectly...a feeling she'd never before experienced. Like the last two pieces of a puzzle locking into place.

Dean shifted his hips, starting a slow pace to keep from hurting her. Much to his surprise, she couldn't care less about the pain, she wanted more.

"Dean, faster," she whimpered.

He couldn't tell her no even if he'd wanted to, and he certainly didn't want to. He began to thrust into her with more force and speed, earning moans of pleasure from her lips.

"You feel so good, baby. Never felt this good before," he whispered softly.

The room filled with the sounds of their shared moans, the salacious slapping of skin, and the whispered words meant only for each other.

Dean was about as far from a virgin as a person could be, and (Y/N) wasn't new to this either, but he had never ever had a sexual experience even remotely close to what he was feeling with her.

Most of his experience came from one-night-stands, which meant there hadn't been feelings of any kind involved, but with (Y/N)? He could hardly breathe, it felt so right. Three words crept into his mind, but he pushed them away quickly. He didn't want to ruin this.

He focused back on the beautiful woman beneath him and his heart nearly exploded at the sight. He'd never seen anything so incredible, so beautiful, so perfect. He was dying to watch her come apart for him--he just knew it would be a sight to behold.

"Do you think you can give me another one, baby?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't know, Dean...I've never cum more than once before and I've already done it twice."

He smiled. He liked knowing he'd done something no one else ever had. "Come on, pretty girl. I know you can do it for me," he murmured.

Before she could say another word, he shifted her hips to give him better access. The new angle left her speechless as his cock slammed into that delicious soft spot deep inside of her--a spot she hadn't been certain existed until this moment.

She dug her nails into his back, clinging to him for dear life. It felt so good she could hardly think. Her brain was filled with nothing but the pleasure she was feeling.

Dean knew she was getting close and he was desperately holding back his own impending orgasm. He would be damned if he came before her. "I need you to cum for me baby. Can you do that?"

She nodded and held onto him even tighter.

Dean's motions never slowed, his aim never faltered. He was determined to push her over the edge. He wanted it more than anything.

Her legs began to shake and strangled cries left her throat as she neared orgasm. With one final thrust, (Y/N) shattered--a broken scream of his name leaving her lips.

Dean continued to thrust, chasing his own high as he helped her ride out hers. "Where do you want it?" he whispered.

In her haze, it took her a moment to figure out what he was asking her. "Inside of me," she begged. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Fuck," he groaned as he moved impossibly faster. Moments later, he came harder than he could ever remember, emptying inside of her for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, his hips slowed to a stop and he nearly collapsed on top of her, completely spent and out of breath.

After a few moments, Dean pulled out and rolled over to collapse beside her on the bed. "That was...fucking amazing."

She laughed lightly. "I would have to agree."

He turned to look at her. "Best sex of my life."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, riiiiight..." She chalked up his statement to a post-nut haze.

"I'm serious, babe. There's something different about having sex with someone you love."

(Y/N)'s entire body froze, but her mind beginning to race. He'd said earlier that he'd loved her, but she honestly hadn't believed it. Hearing him say it now reminded her that she hadn't responded to him the first time.

Dean noticed the tension immediately and suddenly realized what he'd said. He started to panic...Shit, shit shit. "(Y/N/N), I--"

She waved him off. "Dean, you don't have to explain--" she started.

He pulled away from her so he could see her face better. "That wasn't some post-orgasm utterance. I meant it--I mean it."

She laid there, desperately trying to wrap her brain around what he was saying. "What?" she said again, softer this time.

He rolled onto his side so he could see her better. He reached out and gently caressed her face, eyes watching her reaction with trepidation. "I'm in love with you, (Y/N). I've known it for a while, but it didn't seem like something you would want to hear. I said it earlier in that motel room, but we didn't really have a chance to talk about it--and I don't want you to think for even one second that I didn't mean it. I love you with everything I have, baby. I would burn this whole world to the ground for you."

Hearing Dean Winchester say those words was enough to shock her into silence, but hearing them directed at her? It was a feeling she couldn't even begin to describe. "I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Pain flashed across his face, but he hid it before she could really notice. "You don't have to say anything."

"Of course I do," she insisted. "I never expected to hear you say anything like that to anyone, let alone me. I'm struggling to find the words to say...I guess I'm just unprepared. I never thought Dean Winchester would be the one making me speechless with his beautiful words, but here we are. All I can think to say is, I love you too."

A warm smile graced his features. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect response." He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you," he said again.

She smiled back. "I love you too."

Dean pulled her against his chest and held on tightly. He didn't want to let her go for fear of losing her. He knew their lives were risky--he knew either one of them could die at any time--and he didn't want to waste a single moment. He'd already wasted so much time pretending not to love her. He would never make that mistake again.

Apparently (Y/N) was having similar thoughts because she whispered, "I never thought I'd be thankful for a Siren."

Dean chuckled lightly and kissed the top of her head. "Me neither, baby. Me neither."

[strangesuki]

agree to disagree?

❝i love you; by extension, i hate all other things❞

❝i forgive the world because it has you❞

pairing : euijoo x reader, est. relationship

genre : fluff, comfort, grumpy!reader x sunshine!euijoo but you don't exactly get to see much of his sunshiney side in this so more like subdued sunshine? sunshine but it's a cloudy day kinda vibe? idk what im on about but you get what i mean 😭

prompt (?) : i saw a post the other day about something hozier said in an interview (1st quote from above) and was reminded of another quote (2nd one) that felt like its perfect companion quote and i was like omg someone should write a fic using these two! then i was like wait i can also do that. so here we are. i kinda wanna write an angsty version but maybe some other day

warnings : one instance of bullying mentioned, one cuss word, not proofread

word count : around 800

you had an okay childhood – nice parents, good friends, financially secure environment, fun memories. and so to an outsider, it doesn't make sense why you grow up angry at the world. but those close to you know that it's because you also grew up watching the hypocritical ways of the world that preached kindness on one hand while making the lives of those who chose to walk down that path perpetually miserable. well actually no, scratch that, that makes it sound like you're some sort of good samaritan who is deeply concerned about the well-being of the general public – you're not that philanthropic.

you're really only concerned about one person in particular – byun euijoo. your childhood best friend/love and light of your life. beautiful, soft, kind, and altruistic to a fault. you honestly still can't comprehend how he can wake up everyday and choose to be good despite how brutal the world is to him. all your life, you've grown up seeing him be kind and compassionate to everyone, but most infuriatingly even to people who don't deserve it. and so, because of him, you have a bone to pick with the world and its unfair ways. euijoo does not usually complain and bears it all silently, because he wants to keep the peace, and you hate it. doesn't he have you? all he has to do is tell you, because you would go to war for his peace if that's what it takes.

but that's precisely why he doesn't tell you – because he's afraid you'll get yourself into trouble trying to get even for him. like when you were 5-years-old and you bit a boy's arm because he stole euijoo’s favourite toy and claimed it as his own. or the time in middle school when the class bully tore up his notebooks before the final exams just because he had helped a girl the guy had happened to have a crush on – the next day, you tripped him. he fell and ended up with a bloody mouth and a chipped tooth. or the time in high school when euijoo worked part-time at the local supermarket and the owner fired him without pay after making him work overtime for months and then claiming he had stolen money out of the cash register. there were no cctv cameras so everyone just took his word for it. you threw a rock through the glass front doors.

granted, you are not as…violent as an adult, since that tends to have serious consequences. but by no means are you any less scary.

he doesn't like to complain, but that doesn't mean he's never affected by it – he's only human, after all. there are days when his smile doesn't shine as bright, like today. days when everything feels a little heavier. when you open the door to him tonight, his eyes lack their usual glint, and his smile feels subdued. it's not everyday he lets his weariness show. it's not everyday that he walks over to you like this and wordlessly slumps onto your shoulder, seeking comfort in your arms. he rarely lets you see how draining it is, so when he does, you know it's worse than usual.

blood rushes to your head as you feel a surge of rage, and your hold around him tightens. “what happened? i'm gonna kill the bastards i swear,” you fume.

euijoo lets out a tired chuckle and rubs your back in an attempt to calm you. “i didn't even say anything and you're already plotting murders?”

“fine. i'll do it after you tell me. spill.”

“hmm, let's just stay like this for a while?” he murmurs with a kiss, breathing in your scent and trying to forget about everything else.

you sigh. you suppose vengeance can wait. for now you will be his solace. you comb your fingers through his hair, and he smiles knowing that for tonight you have given in. the weight feels lighter in your embrace.

“do you think i'm a pushover too?” he asks after a while, his voice quiet and muffled.

your fingers in his hair freeze for just a second before continuing. “no. i think you're too nice for this wretched world. it doesn't know a thing about kindness and certainly doesn't deserve yours.”

“you have got to stop making me sound like i'm a saint or something,” he mumbles with a laugh, before settling into silence again. and then, “’s not so bad, you know,”

“what?”

“the world. i like it because it has you. i try to be kind because it has you.”

your eyes sting. “well i hate it for not being nicer to you,”

“debatable. it gave me you.”

“agree to disagree?”

“deal.”

divider credits: @/strangergraphics

[pankowcrumbs]

Punch X Joseph Quinn

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The music at the party was too loud. The bass thrummed in my chest like a second heartbeat and my drink had gone warm in my hand, but I stayed glued to the same spot in the kitchen, pretending I wasn’t watching the door.

Dan my boyfriend had disappeared half an hour ago after muttering something about me “embarrassing him” because I’d laughed too loud at someone’s joke. God forbid I enjoy myself for five minutes.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the shiny chrome of the fridge and smoothed down my hair, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. My cheeks ached from the effort. I was so tired of the party, of Dan’s snide remarks, of always feeling like I was too much and not enough all at once.

That’s when I spotted him.

Joseph. Leaning casually against the doorway in a charcoal grey jacket, curls messily framing his face, a red plastic cup dangling from his fingers like he had nowhere better to be. When our eyes met, his whole face softened into a smile. A real one.

I smiled back. For the first time that night, it wasn’t forced.

“Y/N,” he said, weaving his way through the crowd to get to me. “You alright?”

I nodded, too quickly. “Yeah. Fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just loud.”

“It is that,” he agreed, voice low and kind. “Want to step outside for a bit? It’s quieter.”

I wanted to say yes. God, I wanted to follow him out, into fresh air and away from the stormclouds gathering behind my eyes. But before I could answer, I heard Dan’s voice rise from the sitting room.

“There she is,” he barked, loud enough for people to turn and look. “You hiding back here again?”

I froze. Joseph stiffened beside me.

Dan stalked in, his face flushed from drink, and his glare landed on Joseph. “You again. Do you ever piss off?”

“Do you ever speak to her like a human being?” Joseph replied, voice sharp now. Still quiet, but edged with steel.

Dan scoffed. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does, actually,” Joseph said, stepping slightly in front of me. “Because I care about her.”

Dan laughed, but it was hollow. “Oh, that’s rich. You think you’re the hero in all this, mate?”

“I think you’re an arsehole,” Joseph said. Calm. Dangerous.

And then, before I could blink, Dan shoved him. Hard.

Joseph stumbled back a step but didn’t fall. He just looked at me, then back at Dan.

“Don’t,” I said, grabbing his arm. “He’s not worth it.”

But Joseph gently pulled away from me and said to Dan, “Last warning.”

Dan sneered. “What are you gonna do, pretty boy? Write a sad song about it?”

That was it. The punch was quick, brutal, and loud enough to hush the room. Dan went down, groaning and clutching his jaw. A few people gasped. Someone shouted.

But Joseph didn’t gloat. Didn’t say a word.

He turned to me. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. no, not physically,” I said, stunned.

He looked me over anyway, eyes sweeping gently, making sure. Then he reached for my hand and said softly, “Come on. Let’s go.”

I didn’t even hesitate.

Outside, the air was cold and sharp. I let him lead me down the street in silence until the sound of the party faded behind us. I was still clutching his hand when we stopped under a streetlight, my heart racing.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, turning on him. “You punched him!”

He looked at me with those warm brown eyes, not angry, not flustered. Just… sad.

“He was awful to you,” he said.

“That’s not your business, Joe!”

“It is when it’s you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’ve watched him tear you down for months,” Joseph continued. “You come into work quieter, you stop laughing, you apologise for everything”

“I’m just trying to keep the peace”

“And what about your peace, Y/N?”

Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them. “I can’t just leave. It’s not that easy.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who lifts you up. Who sees you. I see you.”

My breath caught. “Why do you care so much?”

He stepped closer, his voice like velvet and fire all at once. “Because I love you.”

My knees nearly buckled.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I tried not to. But every time you smiled at me, even when you were sad, I felt like I could breathe again. And I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t want to ruin your life or make things harder.”

I was crying now. Big, messy tears down my face.

“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I just he made me feel like I was nothing.”

Joseph stepped even closer and cupped my face in both hands. “You’re not nothing. You’re everything.”

And just like that, I crumbled into him. His arms wrapped around me like he’d been waiting forever to hold me. I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in the warmth of him, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel alone.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve always got you.”

We stood there under the streetlamp, hearts pounding in tandem, the night holding us like a secret.

When I pulled back, he wiped my tears with his thumbs and kissed my forehead. Then, softer than air, he said, “Can I kiss you?”

I nodded. Just once.

And then he did.

It wasn’t fireworks or dramatic music it was something better. It was safe and sweet and real. His lips moved against mine with reverence, like I was something precious. Like I was loved.

And when we parted, I smiled properly for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“For being brave. For being kind. For being you.”

He grinned. “Wait till I take you to brunch. I’m even better with pancakes.”

I laughed, resting my head on his shoulder. “Deal."

[ohnomyhooves]

So in an au where rosi never took the undercover mission he makes the mistake about complaining about a coworker in earshot of doffy exactly once. It wasn’t even a big gripe, the guy just called rosi some names and made it clear he though rosi was useless for how clumsy he was, nothing he hasn’t heard before. It’s just annoying because how often does rosi have to prove he’s skilled as a sniper before his close combat abilities mean little.

Well he regrets it not long after when that poor insulting moron dies brutally on a mission publicly slowly and humiliatingly with no way to link the death to doffy or rosi. (Though if rosi is right about his suspicion that vergo is doffys mole given how Weird and protective that guy is every time they’re on the same mission…. Or maybe that vergo guy just has a crush, who knows). All in all rosi who likes handling his own issues his own way thank you will not make the mistake of idly complaining near his brother again.

He ALSO makes the mistake of idly complaining about jerks to law approximately once, the little tattle tale. Which is hypocritical because law mentioned trebol being too rough on him once and rosi near demanded doffy to punish him for it.

I completely agree with this, anon 🎊

I think this AU's Doffy would have some kind of complex about showing off what a great brother he is, his way of doing that being pulling stunts like this that Rosi most definitely does NOT approve of. Think about it, since he's a Warlord and Rosi's a Marine whom he only gets to see on official ocassions or if he tailors a specific situation himself for their paths to cross, Rosi's attention is a rare gift. He IS going to do the most to get that attention. I think he knows that despite not leaving any traces that can be followed back to him, Rosi won't miss the possibility that he did it, and that's gonna make Rosi think of him ✊️commander rosinante's mind is a prime real estate that doflamingo is gonna be the highest bidder for, damn it.

I can see Law naturally tattling on this kind of thing to Doffy, but I'm sure Doffy also actively encourages it. Using this little kid as a gossip conduit. Free news. Rosi is far more likely to let his guard down around Law and say something he would be careful not to say in front of Doffy 🥰🥰

Of course, Rosinante would not stand for anyone hurting Law even a little bit, even if it's Trebol in the name of training!

[perciverthoughts]

The thing about Percy is, he’s really not half as perfect as he pretends to be.

“Fuck,” Penny says, wrenching open the window because she’s also not as perfect as she pretends to be, “give me that, will you?”

She snatches the freshly lit cigarette out of his hand before he can even take a puff, sucking on it desperately.

“Oi,” he protests, and she rolls her eyes but hands it back to him as she blows the lungful of smoke out the open window.

He places it between his lips, ignoring the slight oily taste from Penny’s lipgloss on it, just as desperate for the nicotine as she is. 

They really shouldn’t be doing this, and there will be hell to pay if Flitwick or the heads catch them- they’re prefects after all, and he had to give Danny Maslow detention just last week for doing the very same thing- but he also doesn’t care. He needs this. Merlin, nicotine is half the reason he gets through rounds some days without committing murder or having a breakdown, and after the meeting they just had he feels close to both.

Besides, Penny’s muggle cigarettes are so much smoother than any wizarding smoking device he’s ever tried.

“Fuck,” Penny repeats, because she swears like a goddamn sailor anytime she isn’t in front of the professors or busy being a prefect, “that was brutal.”

“Yeah.” Percy agrees, because holy shit it was.

She makes a grab for the cig and he dances out of reach, knowing what most people don’t: that underneath her carefully arranged curls and polished facade Penelope Clearwater is an absolute menace. 

“Get your own!”

“Who gave you that in the first place, hm?” Penny demands acerbically, but takes out her own pack all the same, along with a muggle lighter because she never quite got used to using a fire charm. “Fucking ingrate.”

“I resent that.” Percy informs her loftily.

“You should.”

He holds his nose up a second longer before he relaxes into a grin, the kind only a few people can draw out of him.

“Seriously though,” She returns to the matter at hand, done feigning her annoyance, “If I have to sit through another fucking meeting listening to Lucretia Hammond prattle on about ‘team unity’ and ‘presenting a united front’ I’m gonna be unified from azkaban when I kill her.”

Lucretia Hammond was the manically bubbly head girl, a seventh year ravenclaw whose caffeine intake could rival that of a healer working double shifts. With the rumours of the chamber of secrets floating around and the fact that half the school seemed ready to duel at a moments notice, she, along with her head boy sidekick Brodie Sangton, felt the need to remind the prefects to be good role models. Apparently, that meant doing an hour and half of team building exercises and messing up the rounds schedules so no one could patrol with their friends. 

“Maybe that was her actual plan all along,” Percy muses, “unite us all in our hatred for her.”

If that was actually the motivation behind it, even Percy has to admit it was kind of brilliant. He’s pretty sure if he asked anyone right now who’d sat through that bloody seminar to help him murder Lucretia and get away with it, they’d accept- and that was saying something considering Zafrina Rosier hadn’t even pretended that dropping him during trust falls was an accident.

“I wish I could believe that,” Penny sighs, “but she’s really not that smart.”

“Penelope Clearwater,” he gasps mockingly, “how could you say something so cruel? After what we just learned about kindness and unity going hand in hand-”

He jumps out of the way before she can smack him, cackling. 

“Bastard,” she grins, “you know I’m right.”

She is, is the problem. Lucretia Hammond could not be less suited to her job if she tried, and most days Percy is convinced she is trying. He has yet to figure out why Dumbledore appointed the Head Girl he did, because he’s sure there must have been a reason. There has to be, because no one in their right mind would put Lucretia Hammond in charge of anything unless they knew something about her most people don’t.

“Unfortunately, yes. Maybe if we hold a vote of no confidence we could impeach her.”

“This early in the term?” Penny blows a smoke ring, hopping up on the windowsill and kicking her legs like a child, “As first year prefects? McGonagall would say we haven’t given her a chance, and we’d be the ones with targets on our backs. Besides, something tells me Lucretia will hang herself soon enough without us needing to do anything.”

She blows another smoke ring, flicking her wand until the grey cloud twists into the shape of a jellyfish.

“Y’know, the whole point of opening the window was so that the whole room wouldn’t smell like smoke.”

Penny rolls her eyes. 

“Unlike you, I know how to do a refreshment charm so I don’t really need to worry about that.”

“Damn. Low blow.”

“Boo hoo, get over it.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, stubbing out his cigarette and vanishing it, “I gotta go, I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling snogging your boyfriend in the library now?”

Percy blushes. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No comeback for the snogging thing, huh?”

“Oliver,” he grits, “is-”

“-the love of your poor gay life, yes, we’re aware.”

“Oliver,” he repeats, purposely ignoring his best friend’s untrue insinuations, “is just a friend.”

“Right, of course,” Penny schools her face into something almost neutral, “just a friend.”

“Precisely.”

“...a friend you really want to snog senseless though. Like, you’re aware that you very much want to do that, right?”

“Oh fuck off!” 

He starts towards the door and Penny cackles.

“You didn’t deny it!” She calls after his retreating back, and he offers her a two finger salute before he steps into the hallway, smoothing his robes and straightening his hair.

After all, he needs to look his best for his study session with Oliver, because he isn’t as perfect as he pretends he is and because Penny is right.

He really does want to snog Oliver Wood senseless. 

[sleepymccoy]

“D’you’ve waterfalls on Vulcan?”

Spock’s chair squeaked. McCoy assumed he had turned and glared at him, but didn’t bother to look and find out. He was stretched out across two chairs over the aisle, feet and arms crossed to keep him somewhat balanced. He had his eyes shut and was pretending he was sunning himself on a gorgeous Georgian day. The smashed shuttle window let the wind in and he could just pretend it was sweet like rotting peach. He was calm and carefree, and not waiting for Spock to give up and announce that they were going to die here. 

“Do ya?” McCoy needled.

“Not to the same height one sees on Earth, but yes.”

“But no oceans.”

“No,” Spock said snippily. “No oceans. Why do you ask?”

“Me?” McCoy breathed. “I’m thinking about water.”

“We have water, are you thirsty already?”

“We have a day’s worth of water, it’s yours.”

The chair at the console squeaked again. Spock sighed. “Doctor, I expect I understand you, and I must be clear that I object. Also, the idea is absurd. Also, I-” Spock sighed. “I am your commander, and I- ”

McCoy opened his eyes and looked over at Spock, which for some reason made him quiet. He wasn’t, as it turned out, sunning beautifully in a hay field. He was in a somewhat uncomfortably warm shuttle stuck on a rock that wasn’t going to cool down. 

And Spock was glaring at him. At least that was always true.

“I insist we split the water evenly,” Spock said unconvincingly. 

McCoy pulled his feet off the chair and sat up. “It’s disgusting in here,” McCoy complained. The slight breeze did nothing to make the shuttle cooler, just reminded him that they were exposed to the hot and dry elements. He pulled his blue shirt off and tugged the sleeve of his blacks up to his shoulder to let his skin breathe. 

“You’re from a desert planet,” McCoy said. “No ocean. Shit waterfalls. And you told me about your kalifey, you know how to survive on minimal water. I can’t keep up with that. I’ll be drinking that litre before you’re even thirsty, and I’ll be dead before your throat starts a-tickling. Without me, you can last the week until the Enterprise gets back. With me… giving it to me is a waste.”

“I am not entertaining this,” Spock snapped. “Go check outside.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “You know I’m right,” he said as he stood and went to the door. “I’m gonna have a walk about, see you in a bit.”

“Doctor- ” 

McCoy shut the door. Spock didn’t follow him out, or lean out the broken window to shout at him. Ah, well, that felt a little bit like permission to bugger off.

The sun wasn’t brutal here, but it was without break. It was a ridiculous situation to be in, really. He and Spock had left the conference early, having agreed that the speakers didn’t know a thing that they were talking about. They had nicked off to have a look at the neighbouring planet which was interestingly tidally locked with the sun. Spock wanted to explore the temperate zone for a couple days before the Enterprise was due back. 

They’d crashed, their radio and stores were destroyed. The temperate zone was weeks of walking away, so staying with the shuttle was sensible. But no one knew they were here and McCoy knew what thirst did to humans and vulcans both. 

There were no clouds. Spock had this hope it’d rain on them, but it wasn’t looking likely. 

Yeah. McCoy was dead either way. Might as well save Spock the discomfort. 

He glanced back at the shuttle, reached his hand out slightly in a vague farewell, and turned to the mountain in the near distance without fully acknowledging what he was doing. Seemed easier if he ignored it, really. 

He started walking away. 

A few minutes into the trek he took his shirt off and wrapped it over his head. Bit of protection from the sun. It had been silly to take his blue sleeves off, really. 

It was beautiful in a stark, dead kind of way. He kept to the rocks as much as he could, avoiding leaving footprints in the sand for Spock to follow. There were some attractive rocky outcrops ahead which he headed towards, partially to keep himself out of direct eyeline once Spock came looking for him and partially because there might be some shade there. 

There was some life in the desert. He bothered these flat lizards. They scuttled sideways like crabs, but their skin was flexible like a lizard. He didn’t get much of a look at them, scared of him as they were. Some small shrubs, grass-like and stiff. Nothing tall though, nothing that’d even scratch his knees. 

He climbed the outcrop steadily. Once slightly over the ridge he sat and looked out at the desert ahead. 

He didn’t like it. 

He didn’t look back.

Spock was likely looking for him by now. Couldn’t tell shit from the sun, but it felt like he’d been walking for an hour or so. Which meant it had probably been half that. His throat was dry. How long was Spock likely to keep his search up? Hopefully not too long. McCoy didn’t love the idea of dying out here, but he liked it a whole lot more than dying knowing he’d taken Spock out too. 

He kept moving, trudging down the rocks. No shade.  

link to the fic

40k words, dubcon aspects, spones romance (and sex) plot <3

[savorypink]

focus!

you are everything. he's just alex.

smut.

"You said I'd get an A. What is this?"

You toss the paper in his direction as if it's contaminated. The B minus scribbled in the corner of your paper marks the beginning of the plague of imperfection threatening to riddle your body. If you held it any longer, your fingertips would've turned black. Alex merely stands there, but his heart begs to jump out of his chest.

"Well, uh," He stammers, admittedly cutely. "I had other papers to finish, and you asked me to do yours while I was busy..."

Your lips curl into a pout, and Alex feels his jeans tighten. "So, I'm not a priority?"

"No, no, no! It's not like that!" His voice is drenched in panic while yours remains coated in molasses. "I just...had things to do, y'know?"

"Important things? More important than me?"

You bat your lashes this time, and his knees turn to pudding. "Never! No!"

Opening your laptop, you ignore his reddening features and click on your e-mail. "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to ask for a rewrite, and you're gonna write me a brand new paper—one that'll get me an A. Understand?"

He nods frantically, but you don't see with your head buried in your computer. "Verbal confirmation, please." You reiterate. 

"Whatever you say."

You peer from your laptop to smile at him, sweet and warm as spring. "You're the best, Aly."

Alex granted every wish you pleaded for whenever you waved a manicured finger. Your friends had been kind enough to direct you to him at a campus party. Timid and reeking of cigarettes, he fumbled with his flirting as he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. Your gaze proved too intense for him, and it wasn't like you were listening anyway. You gathered that Alex majors in monkeys and is in a band called Literature. Something tells you that you've mixed those two things up, but as long as he agreed to do your work, it didn't matter what he did on the side—or what he did at all. You ruled the pristine hallways of your university while he meekly sniffed the breeze in your wake. You've given more attention to the gum underneath your shoes.

It plucks your nerves when you realise he's still standing there, but you open your Myspace and begin scrolling. "You can go now. You have a paper to write."

Your brutal, icy shoulder only makes him eager to restore your warmth, but Alex isn't partial to a little bit of snow, and you could be a blizzard at times. "Well, I did write your paper, and um—"

"And what?" Your fuse is as short as your skirt.

His shaky fingers fiddle with the white sleeves of his hoodie, nausea and lust churning and warming his stomach. "You still haven't paid me. And there's the paper before that..."

And the one before that, too. You haven't been holding your end of the bargain, and the poor boy is within his right to complain. But, oh, you're just so busy! Sports, school, getting your nails done—okay, you may have told a tale or two to get out of doing your assignments, but what did he think making a deal with you would entail? If anything, he should be thankful for the attention. You don't have time to waste on boys.

Closing your laptop, you rise from your desk. As you take two steps forward, Alex takes two timid steps backwards until you've backed him into your bed.

"But Aly," you whine as you straddle him, "I told you I was busy that day! And I don't pay you to write papers that don't get me an A. In fact, I think you've been slacking."

Alex begins fisting the pink bed sheets in abundance, the sweet scent of your cotton candy perfume inescapable and dizzying. "No! 's not true!"

You pout with faux sympathy as your fingers work on unbuckling his belt. "Yes, it is! I'm worried about you, actually..." You cup his chin and turn his head to examine the acne along his jawline. "You're breaking out like crazy! Stress causes pimples, you know!" You exclaim. 

Your touches, while minimal and featherlight, nearly make him cream his pants. His large Bambi eyes look up at you in spectacle and guidance as you pull him out of his jeans, the leaky tip of his cock barely grazing the silk of your panties.

"My poor Aly, you're stressed 'cause you're not focused!" You pull your panties to the side before sinking onto him. Your hand clamps over his mouth before he can let out a pathetic, low groan. "You gotta stop worrying about everything and focus on me!"

"Y-yeah? You think?" His body melts into the sheets as your core swallows him whole, his eyes painfully rolling behind his skull. "Fuck, you're so tight..."

You take his lifeless hands and guide them under your skirt. His clammy palms restore to life to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass while his hips needily buck into you, a plea for movement on your end. Since you're feeling generous, you peel off your shirt and toss your bra to the side. Part of your deal was that he only saw you naked when your grades were above average. You begin with small, courteous bunny hops on his dick, and Alex is already mewling, his nails digging deliciously painfully into your skin. You hiss, and you remove his hands from your ass and place them on your chest, bouncing on him harsher and faster.

"You're not even looking at me! It's like you don't even care!" Your frown is prominent in your words, and you know he'll light himself on fire if it means you'd never have to cry. His eyes creak open, albeit slowly. The sun outside your window casts warm rays onto your form, your skin and hair shimmering brightly without effort, evidently celestial. The only thing you need is a halo.

"Huh?" His tone is reminiscent of how he stares at you, love-drunk and in a blissful, rose-coloured haze. Your bouncing slows, and Alex quickly throws a fit, languidly and whiny, squeezing your breasts needily. Your core tightens its embrace around him, your slick dribbling hot and slippery down his weeping cock. The bed creaks as you dip to his eye level, the bubblegum flavour of your lipgloss mere kisses away as your lips ghost over his trembling mouth.  

"See? You don't even listen!" You wail as you glide your pulsating walls up and down his cock at a snail's pace. "I've been so kind and sweet to you, and you can't even get me an A. I thought you liked me. I thought you'd be good for me."

His grubby paws claw and clutch at your skirt while his legs kick wildly at nothing. The movements rumble your bed, and your meticulously positioned stuffed animals fall to their sides. Your name spills from his mouth like a broken faucet, and your hips show no sign of speeding despite your core being enamoured by his desperation. "I'm good! Promise!"

"I know, baby. You just need to focus!" You kiss his flushed cheek before towering above him again. "So, what are you gonna do for me?"

You resume your bounces, and Alex rejoices with a hoarse moan. His large hands enclose your breasts to toy with them roughly, squeezing and kneading until your nipples respond in stiffness. "I'm gonna write you a paper. A good one! Really good..."

You give a roll of your hips as a courtesy. "Good boy."

His sloppy hips meet your bunny hops halfway as something sticky and hot begins to trickle down his cock. Your ride gets slippery and, to your annoyance, messier. You mask your desperation with aggression and bounce faster, your hands full with the sweaty fabric of his polo shirt. A particular spot within your core is struck, and your walls quiver around him in surrender, and, just this once, you moan. Alex stumbles in your wake, weakly moaning as he splotches your walls with his warm, irritatingly gluey release.

His whining and pants persist as you climb off his lap, ricocheting off the walls of your small dorm. You give him one last once-over as he liquefies into your sheets, churning into a puddle of pathetic lust and goo. You dig through your chest underneath your bed and fish out a fresh pair of panties, pulling off your worn ones and tossing them across Alex's deflating and expanding chest. He flinches cutely.

"For your troubles." You snort as you pull on fresh panties. You don't realise how low on panties you are until you pull on your shirt; perhaps you've been too generous with your handouts.

"They're doing dorm inspections today, so don't overstay your welcome. And clean yourself up, please?" you instruct, pulling on your jacket before throwing your gym bag over your shoulder. "I'd invite you to my practice, but I know you'll be busy with my paper tonight."

"Yeah..." He huffs. "Busy..."

You swing the door open and smile. "You're the best, Aly."

As you exit, your descent downstairs halts when you pull out your phone to relay a message your favourite puddle of goo.

There's Clearasil and pimple patches in my drawer. Thank me later. x

Opening the outside door, you remember one more thing.

And I want my panties back!!!

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

----------------------

Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[soulcccat]

Welcome to the World of Total Drama Arms Race! Pt 4: A New Generation, and the Aftermath of “World Tour”:

-Pictured in Grey, the seven of Gen 2(Around 20) awaiting orders, still not used to the military life and its call for early morning operations (minus Brick of Course). (Also dont mind some of Gen 3, it was a space issue)

In the summer of 2010, Chris McLean was supposed to have another “lovely season” with the same “adoring cast” he loves to psychologically torment as they run a rat race for a million dollars. All for entertainment, fame, and most importantly, credentials to hit it hard in Hollywood.

Except, those Brats stole the plane, doing some magic hoo hah, and saved the goddamn world! Even seeing the footage, the cast all wearing armor that they specialised to their own styles, and far from most cameras, he couldn’t believe it!

They won!? And they’re lauded as Heroes!? Fine, screw them, Especially Noah and Heather! He’s gonna make a new season without them!

Besides, after that, the amount of applications skyrocketed. Some, Backed by good old Uncle Sam. A full set of 16 year olds, hungry for fame, money, and some even want Power. This will do Nicely for him. (More Lore in the Read Below)

And so, Revenge of the Island proceeded as usual, minus the cameos from Gen 1 of course, they were almost Dead to McLean. Mike tried to hide his DID, Zoey scuffled with Anne Maria over Vito, Lightning is still a dumbass.

Dawn… did her things, except it turns out she was birthed from the Mother tree and may/may not be fully human.

And they did meet the Gen 1 cast. Well, Heather really. Lightning first met her in the zeppelin, Holding a briefcase in a getup one would mistake for a spec ops soldier/ assassin. And decided to punch him because it also had the 1 million dollars.

She kicked his ass of course, but left the money.

Because She was sent to see what McLean was up to, because as it turns out, All of gen 1 agreed to serve under NATO to protect their families from the demonic hordes, and far worse things. All under a man called General John Solomon, acting leader of the Blessed, and commander of good old Groom Lake.

Aka. Area 51. He is completly nuts, but he has the most noble heart anyone has seen. Chef Hatchet knows, and it’s why he, and surprisingly the others, recommended him.

They kind of knew, but something else, outside benefactors it turned out(important later) wanted to control these new generation of Blessed.

She still may be tempered yet brutal, but she will Never allow these kids to serve McLean’s whims. And thanks to what was inside the briefcase, they were immediately transferred to NATO Command not under General Solomon.

But a man called General Bastagone. See, General Bastagone was one of those Nepo-babies who seeks money and connections in a cushy office Job. It’s just that he was slippery enough to ensure he stayed in said office. Instead of 6 feet under.

At first, Gen 2 was wary, but Brick was too obedient to question it. And Bastagone, liked that. The missions and training were fine, sparring matches, recon, assaults to cultist bases, even a few strikes against demonic forces.

But he never once permitted collaboration with Gen 1, and he never actually disclosed their existence. They were supposed to be continuing high school during this. But one too many missing slips and absences. And sooner or later, they were sent straight towards Human targets. Military bases, offices, corporate strongholds. Families.

That was the last straw, and after a major skirmish between Gen 2 and Bastagone’s forces, they were locked up in his base

Courtney got curious. Then Furious over the news. Gen 1 begun to almost splinter, how could this all get under their noses!? They were us, kids who needed a better life. Then Noah and Heather, especially Heather, told everyone to shut up, stop bickering, and help Courtney rescue them.

It’s now 2011. A bitter few months passed since finding out, and Gen 2 were basically in guilded prisons. They had no choice, but some defied Bastagone with “unfortunate circumstances”, yet it wasn’t enough. Some, like Jo would run, then Bastagone would threaten or Kill one of her friends, and she’d go back with no hope. It was almost brutal, their lives in a philosophical pit.

Then the evidence popped up. Then the lawsuits and criminal investigations happened to Bastagone.

And then one night, 8 mysterious yet powerful spec ops soldiers busted in, non-lethally wiped out the guards, and rescued all of Gen 2. They never saw their saviors, just the Nato guard moving in to arrest Bastagone for corruption, and to help guide Gen 2 back to as close of a civilian life as possible.

They never saw Heather, Noah, Duncan, Courtney, Gwen, Sierra, Bridgette, and Geoff, sneaking out, and seeing they made it all back home personally.

Not until 2012, when All Stars happened.

2 generations cross, for fate needed Everyone for their worst enemy yet.

-Bonus! The armor for at least the Virtuous 7 of Gen 1, they rocked this shit fighting Oykolos, half of the stuff crafted from the abberations they killed:

[aquagirl1978]

I was wondering what makes chevalier your favourite? ☺️

Oh anon, today is your day, the day that I finally respond to this ask. Yes, I've been putting this off because well, reasons.

Chevalier has been my favorite since Day 1 - even before the game was released in EN, I saw some posts about him and already, he was the one. While his route suffers a bit from being one of the first 3 released, I think his Romantic End more than makes up for it. But it is really in his events where you see this other side of him - the human who found love - that he really shines and a lot of these reasons come from there.

He makes me cry (happy tears). Okay, I know this really isn't a reason. And I know lots of people cry at many of the routes. But I don't. So when I do, it means I really, really, really like a character. And his Romantic End reduced me to tears. His events leave me teary eyed. And even Gilbert's route god damnit made me cry 3 times - all because of Chevalier. God help me when his sequel drops in EN.

He loves you. Like, he really, really, really loves you. I think he might even love you more than you love him. Here is a man who loves you so much, he will do anything for you, like play a silly Valentine's Day game. A holiday he puts zero worth on, but because you do, it has meaning. He quietly eats all the beignets you make - they taste so good because you made them.

He is kind. He doesn't think he is kind - and most would agree with him, but you see his kindness in so many different ways. The way he warned you in his route to be wary of everyone. How he stayed away in his amnesia story when he knew it would hurt you. And there's this one scene in his sequel (Drama End) that is perhaps his ultimate act of kindness.

He is a good man. He might not be the shining ray of sunshine Leon is, and many of Chevalier's actions are, well, a bit rough? Harsh? But he doesn't have an ounce of malice - what he does, he does to protect (country, family, you). Even Leon agreed that Chevalier did the right thing on Bloodstained Roses Day. Chevalier also kills all the assassins in his route to protect his brothers. He allows himself to be the brutal beast so that his favorite brother Clavis can continue to be human.

He is awkward. You are his first for everything - his first love, his first touch, his first hug and kiss and everything else. He's learning, with you as his teacher. It's a slow progression, but worth it to see how his touch changes.

He is playful. Unless you read his events, you won't see this side of him. But he can be teasing when alone with you, sometimes he is so bad he is a bully. He likes to bite and leave marks. If you try to wake up too early, he is liable to drag you back to bed and hold you tightly.

He finds you worthy to stand next to him. To him, you are perfect.

I'm gonna end this right now before this becomes a book too late.

[lightninghikaru]

In some ways RT Sonic can be scarier than ToC Shadow-though that hedgehog is definitely terrifying! I still remember feeling scared for Sonic as I read the first couple of chapters, even though I know he'd be alright. However, what makes RT Sonic terrifying isn't by being a twisted and brutal pirate, nor is it by being bloodthirsty or cruel, because he's not a malicious, brutal and bloodthirsty pirate. It's the fact that you don't ever expect him to be so fierce and angry. And when he is, you know somebody messed up.

You ever heard of the expression "Fear the wrath or anger of a gentle/kind man." That's because their temper can be wild and uncontrollable when provoked. Sonic is kind and gentle, but the minute you say something awful or do something terrible to him or one of his pack, you'd better run and hide and pray he doesn't smell you out!

And the fear you or the characters may feel when they see him like this. It is partly because they can't help but feel scared of him when he's like this, but... They're more afraid FOR him than of him.

A Heartwarming Speech:

A very exhausted blue hedgehog says his piece at the end of their first journey.

Sonic: (looking around at the people on his ship): "I love you guys." (Looks at his crew as he's saying this) "I really do." (Looks at Tom and Maddie before turning to Shadow). "And I love you Shadow. (He presses his forehead against Shadow's who! Reciprocates the gesture.) "I love you so much."

(Then he turns to Shadow's crew) "I know I left a very sour impression on you guys when we first met, but I'm glad Shadow has you people watching out for him... (Proceeds to wag a shaky finger at them) "And I know that after I get to know you guys a little bit better, I would have learned to love you too... Especially you."

(Points at Leven) "I don't what it is about you... But you have a very sweet face." (Proceeds to pass out from exhaustion. Shadow is still holding him up though).

(Shadow's crew just stare, looking both incredibly perplexed and oddly touched. Meanwhile Leven has a paw over his face as he tries to hide his blush).

Gray: "I'm confused Cap... Aren't we supposed to be hating this guy?"

Shadow: "Don't bother Gray, you'd be fighting a losing battle."

Heritage of the Werewolf:

Maybe you could do a scene similar to the "Heritage of the Wolf" scene from the 1995 animated film "Balto." In which Sonic finally accepts himself for who he is.

A Twisted Pirate..?

Twisted is probably the wrong word. Sonic isn't twisted in the sense that he enjoys playing sick games or testing people. But... Sometimes he'll say or do something that will make you question his sanity. Some remarks are light-hearted and funny... Others can be concerning.

Example:

1)Knuckles: "What do you think would happen after you kidnapped him?"

Sonic: Borrowed Knuckles! Borrowed! You know when you take something or someone with the intention of giving them back!!!

2)Sonic: "I'm just saying if you're gonna take a guy against his will, you might as well be polite to him."

Knuckles: "...You're insane right?"

Sonic:"I'm just saying basic manners don't hurt."

Knuckles: (facepalm) "Oh my sweet Chaos..."

3)(After Shadow and Sonic make their deal )

Shadow: "Just so you know when this is over and done with I am coming after you personally Hedgehog! I'll see to it that you're swinging by a noose." 😡😡😤😤

Sonic: Perfect! Let's go!" 😄😄😁😁

Shadow: 😕😕😳😳 ... Wtf..?

A Captain and his Queen:

ToC Shadow and Rouge: The two argue and bicker occasionally and can have moments where they are antagonistic (though that's really Shadow's fault because of his attitude) and yes, she'll take advantage of the favors he owes her to get what she wants. However they do genuinely care for each other. When Rouge teases him, its without malice and it's all in good fun. And when Shadow learned that The Black Arms had found her and had attempted to hurt her, he agrees to take Sonic and go hunting for The Chaos Emeralds.

RT Sonic and Maddie Wachowski: Their relationship would be like how it is in the films. Sonic would view her as a surrogate mother figure though he wouldn't admit it out loud out of fear that he's betraying his mother's memory. (But Maddie knows this because she's got the intuition). Sonic is very protective of her and even in moments where he might snap at her out of frustration he would immediately apologize to her.

I think she'd also try her best in keeping him grounded. Make sure he doesn't go overboard.

Maddie: "Remember Sonic, you got to let him come to you first."

Sonic: "Okay I can do that."

Maddie: "And don't go overcorrecting your mistakes."

Sonic: "What!? Since when do I do that."

Maddie: "Remember when_____ happened? And you felt so bad you made me cake?

Sonic: "What was wrong with the cake?"

Maddie: "I didn't need a giant eight-layered cake Sonic!"

Sonic: "You deserved all eight layers!"

Maybe Tom could be an Animagus. A dog would appropriate I think. Either a golden retriever or a German shepherd.

There's a headcannon in some fanfiction about Shadow loving art and he sometimes draws and paints as a hobby. He could still do that but also maybe Thiosa has a book or journal of the creatures she's hunted with pictures she drew. Like what Arthur Spiderwick did in "The Spiderwick Chronicles" or The Grimms from the show "Grimm." Maybe she was hoping to give that to Shadow one day so he'd be safe.

Okay, okay this is probably too much. You're gonna say "Sparks my friend this TOO MUCH, I can't do this to my character." But hear me out.

...What if Thiosa had an arc similar to Movie!Shadow's arc in "Sonic the Hedgehog 3." Thiosa lost a lot to evil creatures of the night and Black Doom almost broke her. Because of this, she never discriminated between which creatures were bad and which creatures were good.

...So... She hurts Sonic... And shoots him with a silver bullet..!

I know this is too much. Not to mention Shadow deserves to have a parent who would never manipulate or hurt him or someone he loves!

After witnessing Shadow's heartbreak, concern and doubt fills her mind and her heart, but she tries to convince herself that she did the right thing. Also someone could've manipulated her.

Despite fighting for his life, Sonic encourages Shadow to forgive and help Thiosa as he knows how broken she is and that she had been afraid when she shot him. Shadow however is resistant to this as he fears he's losing the one person who's helped him find peace since Maria.

Eventually Shadow and Thiosa make peace with each other (though Shadow still hasn't fully forgiven her). After everything is said and done and Sonic predictably recovers, he gives Thiosa his forgiveness which shocks the remorseful tenrec. Eventually she has to leave though she does promise to check in on Shadow now and then.

Sonic is still uncomfortable around her though he tries to push this away for Shadow's sake. Having had lost his own mother a long time ago, he wants Shadow to have a family. But Shadow simply says this:

"I have a family Sonic. I have Rouge, Omega, Leven, Grey, Scaro, and Jorah. And now I have you, your crew, and The Wachowski's. I am happy. Maybe one day I can fully forgive Thiosa. But right now your safety and comfort are my priorities."

And who knows... She may return one day.

my friend, at this point you should just start writing this as a story lol. You've added and theorized literal chapters of how you think Reverse Tides will go and I fear that it is more in-depth than I plan to make it. (again that's IF I write it)

Do not get me wrong I love your theories and ideas! But I don't want people to think that this is how the story is going to play out when it's going to very much differ from Turning Tides. It'll start the same but that's really the only thing that ties the two stories together.

Because it's super fun to try and think of how a roleswap will change the characters compared to the first story. But where's the fun in that when I can change the story and truly make it it's own thing. like for an example; Maria is going to be in the story a lot more than in Tides and in a very interesting way. (that's all you get no more spoilers XP)

I just want to premise that i enjoy your theories. but I also want to be transparent that some of this might be added or not. Thank you again for the wonderful theories.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Well you do enough talk, my little hawk

Warnings: different forms of abuse, dad!Soldier Boy, bro!Homelander, sis!Reader, children using weapons, training lil monsters, sister complex, brother complex, these two kids have such a bleak life :(

Words: 1339

Summary: Soldier Boy would not allow either of his kids to be pussies.

🌸Did you get enough love, my little dove 🌸shall we look at the moon, my little loon

He warned you before agreeing to train you that he would not go easy because you were a girl.

"If you're gonna learn, you learn like your brother."

You vigorously nod your head.

"No bitching and crying. Got it?"

Again you nod. You're happy even if Homelander is frowning next to Soldier Boy. He was scared for you. Maybe he should have let on to how painful it was to be punched by Soldier Boy so you would understand what you were asking for. His methods weren't like Vought's. They were more brutal. Left longer lasting bruises. Homelander wanted to protect you from that. But every time Soldier Boy took Homelander out to the woods bordering your backyard, you grew lonely and jealous.

You were still young enough to keep hoping for some kind of connection with your dad. Your brother wanted you to remain soft and innocent. For twelve years he'd molded you into the perfect little girl. At the time you didn't mind. He gave you the attention Soldier Boy didn't.

One way to get more time with him, you'd noticed, was training Homelander outside. That was what gave you the idea to beg your father to train you too. You had the same powers as Homelander, it was only fair. Vought's tutelage wasn't enough for you, a child of Soldier Boy.

Unfortunately, Homelander witnessed reality dawning on you just a few minutes in. The exact moment when your eyes go wide at Soldier Boy's fist appearing in front of you in a blink of an eye.

You went flying, smashing through trunks of trees.

"You stay fucking put." Soldier Boy snaps at Homelander who twitched to go to your aid, but remains frozen. "She wanted to learn. The first thing she needs to understand is pain. And it looks like Vought hasn't been supplying her with the proper amount if she can't even take a punch."

Homelander wanted to scorch him. Turn him to ash. Guttural hatred hemorrhaged in the pit of him.

Soldier Boy yells in the direction he'd sent you flying. "C'mon! Get up!"

This is what you had asked for.

With a heavy head, you fumble to stand. It hurt to breathe through your nose and taste blood in your mouth and something rolling around against your tongue.

You spat into your hand a small tooth. Thankfully it was just a baby tooth and not one of your permanents.

Red trickles into your vision from an open cut on your brow.

You hear Soldier Boy's voice ringing but can't make out the words.

Moving any part of your body hurt, but you will yourself to move past the broken down trees that you had barreled through. Everything tilts at a nauseating angle.

It was too much.

You drop to your knees and throw up.

At least you weren't crying.

"Here, this will help." Homelander delicately places the ice pack on your face.

You're biting your bottom lip, sucking in your inhales to prevent yourself from sobbing. Your entire body hurt. And there was so much blood. Was this what Homelander had to put up with? You don't recall him ever showing up bleeding this much.

"Shit, I think you may have a concussion." He hisses after examining your eyes. Chewing on his bottom lip, he contemplates calling Vogelbaum. What if it was more than a concussion? You'd definitely require medical attention. And because you were a supe, you required special doctors.

You want to ask your brother how he survived doing those kinds of trainings four days a week. You're still reeling from the punch and unable to formulate any helpful words. The only thing you were capable of doing is closing your eyes as there's a brief break in the pain when the cold numbs your face.

"Don't fall asleep, okay? I'm going to call Dr. Vogelbaum."

Homelander dashes to the landline in the kitchen. Soldier Boy was picked up by Crimson Countess for Payback work. His truck was still parked in the driveway with its keys on a hook in the living room.

To be on the safe side, Vogelbaum insisted that he check you out himself. Homelander carefully got you into the truck and drove to Vogelbaum's estate.

"You say Ben did that?" Vogelbaum inquires once he's checked you over and settled you down on his couch.

Homelander nods. "She wanted to do the same training I was doing."

"If she was a normal person that punch would have killed her." He informs the young boy but it was something Homelander already knew. "Thank god she'll be fine. Her body is already healing at an incredible rate."

With fingers tented, he mulls over the scientist's words. "I can't protect her anymore."

Vogelbaum regards this sad boy, ignoring how his words send a pang in his chest. These kids never stood a chance. "Just remember she's made out of the same material you are. If you can survive Soldier Boy's classes, then so can your sister."

"I'm sorry I worried you." You tell Homelander later that night as both of you are preparing for bed. Already you were better than when he'd taken you to Vogelbaum's.

"I'm just happy you weren't seriously hurt." He smiles over at you but it falters when he spies the scab on your eyebrow. "Why did you want to train with dad? You have to be out of your mind to willingly do that."

Turning off the faucet knob, your other hand puts your toothbrush away. "I don't like being by myself here while you guys are out."

Homelander understands. He hated being without you.

You'd been looking at the budding tooth that was poking out of your gums. Where the baby tooth had been knocked out by Soldier Boy. Guess it didn't matter if he knocks out your adult teeth. They appeared to regenerate quickly.

You turn around to face your brother who still occupied the bathroom with you. He wears a basic light blue button up pajama set, blonde hair having been brushed back.

"I'm not quitting." You adamantly inform him when Homelander remains quiet.

Sadly, he sighs. "I know. There's no going back now."

You nod. "Yeah. Sorry I couldn't stay soft forever. I know you don't like me fighting."

That has him chuckling as he sits on the rim of the bath tub, watching as you now take your hairbrush to run through your long, dark hair. Dark hair that is so much like Soldier Boy's. Something all three of you have are the same blue eyes.

He reaches out to touch the falling tresses at your back. Soft against the pads of his fingers. "I don't like seeing you get hurt. I don't even like when Vought doctors give you shots. But you're growing up. Unfortunately I can't be your knight in shining armor."

You pout at that and place your brush back down on the counter. "Don't say that! You'll always be my knight! Now I'll just be able to protect you too."

"You want to protect me?" Funny. Homelander thought that he never needed anyone's help or protection.

Eyebrows raise. "Of course I do. I love you." You said it so earnestly that you weren't anticipating the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Homelander swipes at his eyes. "M'fine." Taking a deep breath to control himself, Homelander musters up a small smile just for you. "Lets get you to bed."

Trailing after you, Homelander is still stuck in his own head. Replaying Soldier Boy's punch. Your concussion that only lasted two hours but was still frightening to him.

He also remembers the determination in your battered little body as you stood up. His little hawk, you managed to meet Soldier Boy's gaze before puking. You said you wouldn't cry and you didn't. You weren't just talk. While you would always be his perfect little sister, Homelander believed you when you said you wanted to protect him too. Knew that with time, you would be strong enough.

Thanks for reading!

[d34dg1rl5]

Corpse Bride

It's icy in Mount Ormond. Quietly you make your way across the snowy paths and reach the ski lodge. The legions domain.

From inside the house you could hear chatter and music. Sounds like they're having a good time. Maybe you were just a nuisance to them? Yes, they were your friends and yes, they care about you. But maybe they don't always want to deal with your problems and fears.

Just as you turned around Susie spots you. "(Y/n!) What are you doing out here? Come join us!" She grabs your hand and pulls you inside. Julie waves at you and Joey greets you with a "'Sup." Frank quickly puts back on his mask crossing his arms. "You look like shit."

You sigh and sit down enjoying the warmth emerging from the furnace. "It's just been a rough trial... Nea kept stunning me with pallets and I think I'm gonna have a bruise.."

Susie looks at you with sympathy. "Aww, poor you... I know excactly what it feels like... Don't we all?" She looks at her friends and earns Julies agreement. "Yeah, some survivors really are a pain in the ass.. Especially Nea and Feng." She takes a piece of the pizza laying in front of her.

Joey agrees aswell and talks about his experiences with toxic survivors.

Something seems weird about Frank today... He isn't his usual cocky and snarky self. He gives you glances from time to time, even though you can't see his face you can feel his eyes on you.

You look at the others. "I think I'll head back to my realm... I feel ... Weird." Susie looks at you. "Aww, already? Alright then, do you want me to walk you back?" You shake your head. "Aw, no, you don't need to." Susie nods and gets up to hug you. "Alright then, see you!"

Youwalk out the lodge and sigh looking around walking back in your realm. Suddenly you get the feeling of someone following you. You turn around taking out your knife. "Who goes there!?"

"Jeez, calm down... Pussy." You hear a familiar voice say and a snarky chuckle. "You're a killer, you shouldn't be afraid of shit in here." Frank steps out from the darkness and looks at you. "What are you doing here?", tilting your head in confusion. "Walking you home I guess."

He takes out a cigarette of his pocket and lights it. Hiw does he even have that stuff in the realm? Maybe he asked the Entity for it.. He notices you eyeing the cigarette. "Want one?" Thinking about it for a second you nod.

"Yeah, gimme one." He hands you one and puts his lit cigarette to yours and lights it. "Heh." You blush slightly and try to avoid his gaze.

"You look brutal, by the way. Real sick." You look at him. "Huh?" "Your outfit. You know. Killer look. Real sick." You look down at yourself and sigh. You were some kind of zombie, just not just thinking about brains and intestines all the time. You actually were still human. To some extent at least. Your body however looks like a nightmare. Your skin was pale with deep wounds littered over your body. Your right eye was a milky white while the other eye was still intact. You hated how you looked.

"Maybe to you. I hate this body..." He sighs and puts a hand on your back. "I was always into zombies." He nudges you and you can't overhear a flirty tone in his voice.

Frank and you walk next to each ither for a few minutes in silence until you reach your realm - a church with a dark and old looking graveyard at the backside. The churchs roof is destroyed and crows circle the cross on top of it.

"I'll see you around, corpse bride~" He grins and turns to walk away, disappearing in the thick fog surrounding the church.

A/N: IM RLLY MAD CUZ YESTERDAY I WROTE HEADCANONS FOR DBD KILLERS REACTING TO A FEM!SURVIVOR WITH A PANIC ATTACK AND I UPLOADED IT AND IT WAS JUST GONE. Like i tried everything (log out and in again, refresh my page, look at queue, privacy settings, etc.). Its just gone and im so sad 😭😔