#(And I assume it’s okay to talk about because Sam’s talked about it in the livestreams and discord and comments section of his videos ect-)

[saikenakoego]

Im gonna do another one of this again oh god

I usually do these with Sammy only, but since she's been getting all the spotlight I figured it'd be nice to feature the full vampire-fighting trio.

From left to right - Silver, the gunslinger (Silver is NOT his real name); Sammy, the unwilling vampire; and Johnny, the corpse kid (he's not actually dead).

Wish I had a better picture of them together but my hand hurt,

They'll be answering in that same order as well, each with their own take on the matter because that sounds the most fun and i like being cringe.

The key will be S - Silver SM - Sammy J - Johnny AH - Me, if needed

What would they do...

if they're met face to face with their plot, with no warning? S - What? What are you talking about? SM - I don't-- Are you talking about a book? J - I do not understand this question. AH - Depends on their current mood, but Sammy would definitely be pissed about it.

if they're stressed? S - I'm going to assume you mean 'us'. As in, me and those guys. Can't speak for them, but working on my babe always calms me down. SM - I can't feel stress. Literally. J - Stress is something I don't really concern myself with, AH - His 'babe' is his bike.

if they're happy? who will they want to share it with? S - Oh man, now lemme tell ya. Nothing beats going on a joyride down the highway, feeling the breeze on yer face and hair. Except maybe a good stew. 'Specially the one my uncle makes. He makes a mean pot, I tell ya what. SM - Okay. These gonna be all about feelings? J - ...There's nothing wrong with a treat every once in a while.

if they're sad? will they go to anyone for comfort? if yes, who? S - I take it like a man. Suck it up and move on. Next question. SM - Yeah. Not gonna be answering much of anything here. J - One thing I've learned is that you're always responsible for your own mental state, no one else. I always choose to do better.

if they're forced into a life of death situation? S - Now here's an interesting question! Lemme ask ya somethin' in return: Can I solve it with a gun? If the answer's yes, then I use my gun. If the answer's no, sic Sam on 'em. And if that don't work, refer back to answer 1. SM - I choose life. J - It really does depend a lot on the context of the situation. This question is rather arbitrary without it.

if they're being threatened? S - I actually dunno. I mean, have you SEEN me? Gots to have balls to pick a fight with me, tell ya what. SM - I legitimately cannot care. J - Another thing I've learned: People resort to intimidation once they become aware of your superiority.

if they're kissed by their ex? S - Ha ha. Wooh. Gettin' hot in here or what? What's the question again? SM - ...Did he set you up to this? J - I've never taken part in a romantic relationship, but given as how people separate due to disagreements, I suppose it wouldn't be very pleasant. AH - No, he did not.

if they're confessed to by someone who they had no clue liked them? (given, they're single or not) S - Hah, wouldn't doubt it for a second. But, ah, sometimes its not as nice as ya think it is. SM - I'd be concerned. J - Believe it or not, this has happened to me in the past. I still can't understand the reasoning behind it.

if their lover betrays them? S - ...Next question. SM - Rip off their balls. J - Given as how relationships are built on trust, needless to say I would seek to terminate it.

if they're coughing up blood out of the blue? S - I would go to a hospital??? SM - ...You makin' fun of me? J - This was a common occurrence when I was a child. Still happens from time to time, but only when I'm severely dehydrated.

if there's a strange presence in the room, and it feels ominous? S - Whatever corpse boy does? That. SM - Beat the shit out of it. J - This would imply an ambush. In which case, the best course of action would be to retreat and attempt to gather info. The supernatural is only but the natural we haven't understood yet.

if they discovered a dead body? S - Man, poor bastard. Or bastardette. I dun' discriminate. SM - I walk over and drink all its blood... That was a joke. J - Even if I'm not responsible, making sure the body is undiscovered as long as I'm in the vicinity would be ideal.

^ if the dead body is their best friend? (great question to start and develop a plot) S - Like I'd let that happen in the first place. SM - Kill. J - Best friend? I wonder who'd that be...

if their enemy is at their doorstep, bruised and injured? S - Serves 'em right. SM - Kill. J - I'd make sure to win any future conflicts before they happen.

if they had to share a bed with someone they don't particularly hate? ahem S - There, er, these're gettin' kinda personal, wouldn't ya say? SM - Sleep, even though I don't need it. Might make 'em feel at ease. J - What else would one be doing besides sleeping? Oh, are you trying to imply a more scandalous situation?

if they had to be fed by someone they didn't like/their crush? S - For the one, I'd eat the food. But that don't mean I gotta like it. For the other, hell yeah. SM - I'd rather die again than let either happen. Or any other, for that matter. J - I don't think this is a very well-thought out scenario. I certainly wouldn't try and feed someone I didn't like.

if their partner-to-be? enemy? pulls them into a secluded place and shushes them? (their bodies pressing and all that!!) S - Okay FINE. I'd enjoy it. A lot. Wait, but only the first one-- SM - They could try, certainly. J - Whoever it may be, being taken to a secluded area and told to be quiet is never good. Though, by then, I would've taken note of the possible routes of escape. All that'd remain is figure out how to break free.

when asked to choose between their family and their lover? (given the circumstances of ur story) S - Tell you to go fuck yourself. SM - I don't have a lover, but if I did, they'd be part of my family. There, solved your stupid attempt at a dilemma. J - I'd choose both.

when kissed on their head by their enemy after a near death experience? S - Yeah, this is a little too close to home. SM - Last guy who did that actually did die. Just sayin'. J - It would be a very surprising development, for sure.

if they're dancing with a stranger, and the stranger says 'stop dancing, sweetheart and you'll be hunted. do you wanna die?' ? S - Hunted? ME? I'M the hunter. Hunney, I tell ya, if I was in that situation, I'd probably have it all figured out in the first place. They'd be dancing to MY tune. SM - Do they want to? J - Don't think this would apply to me. I'd never dance with a stranger.

if they find out the food that served to them has glass dust on it? (who is it served by?) S - Shit. Did I eat it by the time I found out? Did I?? SM - If I could still laugh naturally, I would. That would be really funny, I think. Seeing their face as I keep eating. J - Given my condition, I would try to enjoy the rest of my meal. But mentally, I'd berate myself for falling to such a cheap trick... AH - As to who would serve it, probably the Gas Mask Killer. (Thought I had an image with his design but I lost it woops).

when being pulled into a hug when they most need it by someone they least expect? S - Prolly kick 'em in the balls. Out of reflex, I aint heartless. SM - Accept it. J - It would certainly be awkward. Though... not entirely unpleasant, I suppose.

when they have to hold someone they loved at a gun point? why would it even occur? S - I had to do this one time. Rather not talk about it. SM - Pull the trigger. If I have to. Might be better than letting them live with their actions. J - Once more, it may sound hard to believe, but I had this happen to me once before. Life is all about choices, all you can do is try to make the best one. AH - There's a variety of reasons why this may happen. Most commonly paranormal, but I could see some strong misunderstandings leading to this. As to why Silver and Johnny had to hold someone at gunpoint, vampires are very volatile when starved.

when they have to choose between their own life and their lover's? S - Theirs, easy. SM - Theirs. J - This is a rather interesting question. Logically, one would expect to throw one's own life away in order to preserve that of our loved one. However, that would also imply making that same loved one continue living with the scars of trauma and probably lead to them taking the blame for our demise, which would ultimately defeat the purpose of the sacrifice in the first place. However, the alternative option is considered as morally lesser due to the reasoning that letting your loved one die would imply that you do not care for them truly, thus meaning they were never your loved one to begin with. I don't believe this is true, as your loved one would be forced to make the same decision as you, and logic dictates that therefore they would reach a similar conclusion as well. That is to say, they would also prefer to give their life if it meant you would keep yours. Naturally, this would mean that if you chose the latter option, it would be morally acceptable since your loved one themselves would be willing to sacrifice themselves for your sake, even if such is not perceived at first glance. Yet, this also hinges on the assumption that your loved one would reach the same conclusion. But what if they were to reach a diametrically opposing one? That would, in turn, imply that you were not their loved one, despite them being yours. In which case, it would also be morally acceptable to partake on the second option provided that they decide to value their own life more than yours. Therefore turning it into a matter of self defense. Whatever the case it may be, one must always be aware that the only person who will always care for you is yourself, and you first and foremost always think about number 1. It all depends on the context of the situation, really. As the mere implication that there are only two available choices is a fallacy in itself.

when they've to give up something (of great importance to the character) to save their lover? S - This is just the same question as the one above! I give up! SM - Material goods can always be replaced. J - A life cannot.

what will your character do..

(reblog and brainstorm, lovelies! u can also write drabbles with theseee )

if they're met face to face with their plot, with no warning?

if they're stressed?

if they're happy? who will they want to share it with?

if they're sad? will they go to anyone for comfort? if yes, who?

if they're forced into a life of death situation?

if they're being threatened?

if they're kissed by their ex?

if they're confessed to by someone who they had no clue liked them? (given, they're single or not)

if their lover betrays them?

if they're coughing up blood out of the blue?

if there's a strange presence in the room, and it feels ominous?

if they discovered a dead body?

^ if the dead body is their best friend? (great question to start and develop a plot)

if their enemy is at their doorstep, bruised and injured?

if they had to share a bed with someone they don't particularly hate? ahem

if they had to be fed by someone they didn't like/their crush?

if their partner-to-be? enemy? pulls them into a secluded and shushes them? (their bodies pressing and all that!!)

when asked to choose between their family and their lover? (given the circumstances of ur story)

when kissed on their head by their enemy after a near death experience?

if they're dancing with a stranger, and the stranger says 'stop dancing, sweetheart and you'll hunted. do u wanna die?' ?

if they find out the food that served to them has glass dust on it? (who is it served by?)

when being pulled into a hug when they most need it by someone they least expect?

when they have to hold someone they loved at a gun point? why would it even occur?

when they have to choose between their own life and their lover's?

when they've to give up something (of great importance to the character) to save their lover?

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Sam's mentioned a few times that he doesnt do great with reading, but do we know if hes actually dyslexic?? I feel like hes mentioned it ajakskak

Sam has a “brain condition” - putting it in quotes because that’s how Jay has phrased it and I want to word it right, not because I’m doubting it - and he has also called it dyslexia.

As a kid he had seizures because of the same thing and he experiences symptoms of dyslexia :)

[quietwingsinthesky]

so because nick was able to almost raise lucifer from the empty, we really have to assume that anyone could do it. like all he had was some determination and a hammer, and he could have pulled it off. so. what im saying is that this leads us to assume that in-universe, dean just didnt feel like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[manofmanymons]

Star Rail is so great cuz you'll hear the Stellaron Hunters, some of the most dangerous people you know, talk about how terrifying and fucked up Sam is

And then you meet him and he's just

Little Gorl

[thewulf]

Adding One || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request - Hi I love your Paul lahote stories!! I was wondering if you could do one super fluffy where the reader finds out she’s pregnant but is worried how Paul will feel because they’re still young and all the werewolf and vampire stuff is going on at the time!!🩵

A/N: I just love Paul. Thank you for the requests as always! @lunajay33

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k +

TW: Pregnancy

The warm scent of blueberry muffins filled Emily’s kitchen mingling with the faint tang of sea air drifting in through the open window. You were slouched in one of the chairs at her table with your cheek resting in your palm as you watched her move about the kitchen. The quiet hum of her voice as she talked about Sam and the pack was comforting, but it was hard to focus. Your stomach rolled again. That new unease building in the back of your mind.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Emily commented. Her voice cutting through the fog of your thoughts. She glanced at you over her shoulder, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on your face. “Are you feeling okay?”

You forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a stressful few weeks, you know? All the patrols, Jacob imprinting on… that situation. It’s a lot.” You tried brushing her off.

Emily turned back to her muffins, humming as she pulled them from the oven and set them on the counter. “That’s true. It’s been hard on everyone.” She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked gently not wanting to push too hard.

Your smile faltered. “Of course. What else would it be?”

Emily walked over and sat across from you. Her expression calm but concerned. “Well, you’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve barely eaten today. You won’t even touch my muffins like you always do. I also saw you push your plate away last week at dinner too.” She tilted her head, her tone as light as she could make it. “And I saw you make a face when I started the coffee earlier. You used to love coffee… I haven’t seen you drink a cup in weeks now.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to brush her off with a laugh. “I’m just… off, that’s all. It’s probably just stress or maybe a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.” That unease grew in the pit of your stomach though.

She didn’t drop it. “Maybe,” she said slowly. Her dark eyes studying you. “But… have you thought it might be something else?”

You blinked at her, frowning. “Something else? Like what?”

She hesitated before she reached across the table to rest her hand on yours. “I don’t want to assume anything, but… you and Paul are together all the time. Could there be… another reason why you’re feeling this way?”

Her words hit you like a freight train and you immediately shook your head. Your voice pitching higher than you intended. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way, Emily. We’re careful! I mean, mostly. But… no. That’s impossible.”

Emily gave you a patient look but didn’t pull her hand away. “I know you’re careful,” she said gently. “But accidents happen. When was the last time you had your period?” She asked the dreaded question… when was it?

The question made your heart lurch, and you froze. “I…” shit, you didn’t know, “I don’t know,” you stammered. “It’s been… I mean, I’m not great at keeping track, but…” Your voice trailed off as your mind began counting backward. The realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water on a freezing winter day. Your chest tightened. Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

Emily leaned forward slightly. Her voice soft but steady. “How long has it been?”

You swallowed hard while staring at her as the truth sank in. “I.... A month? Maybe more?” You guessed as you kept counting further back. No, it was more than a month now. It’d been nearly six weeks.

Emily’s expression didn’t change though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It might not be what you think,” she said carefully. “But maybe… maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, and you instinctively shook your head again. “I can’t. What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? What’s Paul going to say? What about the pack or my parents? Shit! My parents Em!” Your voice cracked, panic bubbling up as the possibility became more real. Pregnant. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant. No, it was just stress. You’d been so stressed lately. Periods were often late when stress was abundant. Yeah, just stress.

Emily squeezed your hand. Her calm presence grounding you. “If it’s positive, you’ll figure it out like you always do. You’re not alone in this, okay? You have me. You have Paul. And you have the while pack. Whatever happens, we’ll all be here for you.” Her voice was low and soothing as it always was. Her reassurance should have been comforting, but your thoughts were spiraling. The only thing you could focus on was the quiet truth settling into the back of your mind. You might really be pregnant. She stood with you still trying to process what was likely true.

Emily slipped out the door after giving you a reassuring smile. Her keys jingling as she walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she’d said. “And don’t even think about panicking while I’m gone. Just breathe. I’m going to go buy one from the pharmacy. It won’t be a big deal if someone sees me buying one.” Easier said than done.

You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch with your knee bouncing restlessly as the minutes ticked by. Emily was right. If anyone saw her buying a pregnancy test, they wouldn’t think twice about it. She and Sam were married, in their twenties, and settled. But you? At nineteen, unmarried, and still figuring out your life, the very idea of people finding out sent a wave of nausea through you.

When Emily returned, she came through the door with the same calm efficiency as before. She held a small paper bag like it contained something perfectly ordinary. She set it down on the table while brushing the rain from her hair as she gave you a steady look. “Alright,” she said. Her tone light but firm. “No one saw me. Not that it would’ve mattered. But I figured you’d want to hear that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Thank God. I’d die right here if word got back to my mom. Or the whole reservation.” You peeked through your fingers, your voice dropping to a mutter. “This place is like a fishbowl.”

Emily laughed softly and slid the bag toward you. “Relax. It’s done. Now, the next part is up to you.”

You stared at the bag. Your palms suddenly very disgustingly sweaty. Your heart hammered as you reached out and pulled the slim box from inside, the pink lettering glaring up at you like a warning. “I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy after-school specials,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you tried to make light of the situation.

Emily gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not. You’re just figuring out what’s next. Go on. I’ll wait here.” With a long breath you stood and made your way to the bathroom, the box clutched tightly in your hands. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the little plastic stick on the counter, its blank screen taunting you.

When your phone buzzed with the timer you’d set, your stomach flipped. You stood slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up the test. Two pink lines.

Positive.

Your knees felt weak as you gripped the counter for support as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. A strange mix of fear, joy, and uncertainty swirled in your chest, leaving you utterly breathless. You stared at the test for a long moment trying to process what it meant. Your hand drifted to your abdomen as you gulped.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Emily was waiting on the couch. Her face was soft as ever with understanding. She looked up as you stepped into the room, the test still clutched in your hand. “Well?” she asked gently. Her brown eyes searching your face for any sign of what it said.

You held up the test. Your mouth dry. “I guess I’m pregnant,” you said with your voice unsteady. Then in a weak attempt to lighten the mood you added with a shaky laugh, “Stealing Bella’s thunder, huh?” Bella’s pregnancy had been the talk of the pack ever since the group found out what she was carrying. Then the vampire human baby decided to make its appearance after only 28 days. The thought sent a shiver down your spine as you thought of what carrying a werewolf baby would entail.

Emily blinked, then burst into laughter. Her head tilting back as she shook her head. “Oh, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Paul so much. You’re picking up his sense of humor.” She grinned as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Despite your spinning thoughts her laughter pulled a smile from you. She wrapped you in a warm, steady hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, her voice firm. “Paul loves you so much. More than I ever thought he’d be capable of. You’re not doing this alone.” You clung to her words like a lifeline as tears brimmed in your eyes. You weren’t sad… no, not at all. You were simply overwhelmed as this had not been in your plans. You were going to get married to Paul in a few years and maybe have some kid’s years after that. Not now. But life had a funny way of throwing you completely off. First, being imprinted to a damned werewolf. Now this.

You sat at the kitchen table with the pregnancy test still in your hand. Emily had made you a cup of tea. The warm mug sitting untouched in front of you as your thoughts spiraled. You’d stared at the little pink lines so long now that they were practically burned into your vision. A constant reminder of the new, terrifying reality that had just taken shape.

Emily leaned against the counter, watching you with a mixture of patience and quiet concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

You let out a shaky breath, placing the test down on the table so gently as if it might explode. “Everything,” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… Paul and I are nineteen. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. What if he’s not ready for this? What if he feels… trapped?” The thought made your stomach churn. You couldn’t shake the image of his face falling when you told him.

Emily frowned, stepping closer and taking the chair across from you. “Yes, you both are young, but you know he’s devoted to you. He’d run through fire for you without thinking twice. That’s the bond. It’s unshakable.”

You nodded slowly, but her reassurance only soothed one layer of your anxiety. “But what about my parents?” you asked. Your voice cracking yet again. “If they find out, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. They’ll say I’m ruining my life. That we’re not ready. And Paul’s parents… What if they think I’m irresponsible or… God forbid, trying to trap him or something?”

Emily shook her head firmly. “No one who knows you would think that. You and Paul have been through so much already and you’ve come out stronger every time. His parents will see that. His parents love you. And as for your parents…” She gave you a small, wry smile. “They’ll probably be shocked at first. Maybe even upset. But they’ll come around. They always do.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing your temples. “It’s not just them. It’s the pack, too. What are they going to think? There’s so much going on right now. Jacob imprinting on a half-vampire baby, the Cullen drama, all of it. This is the worst time for this to happen. What if they see it as a distraction? What if they resent me for pulling Paul’s attention away?”

Emily reached out grabbing for your hand. “First of all, no one in that pack would resent you. You know how they are. They’re family, even if they don’t always show it the right way. And second, you’re not pulling Paul’s attention away. If anything, this will give him more to fight for. Plus, I think they all like you more than Paul anyway.” She added with a mischievous grin.

Your chest tightened at her words. A mix of hope and fear swirling inside you. “But what if I’m not enough?” you whispered. “What if I can’t handle this? What if I ruin everything?”

Emily’s grip on your hand tightened. Her scarred fingers warm and steady. “You’re more than enough,” she said firmly. “You’re strong and you have so many people who love and adore you. You’re not doing this alone. Paul’s going to be over the moon, you’ll see. And the pack? They’ll probably throw a barbecue to celebrate.”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling in your chest that last comment drew a weak laugh from you. “Yeah, and Embry will probably make a joke about Paul being the first one to ‘start a litter,’” you muttered.

Emily grinned. “Probably. But you’ve got to admit, they’d all step up to make sure you and that baby are safe. It’s what they do.”

You took a shaky sip of tea. The warmth grounding you for a moment. Deep down you knew Emily was right. But the thought of telling Paul, and everyone else, still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” you murmured while staring down at your tea. “I just hope you’re right.”

Emily smiled softly, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’m always right,” she teased. Her voice light. “Now, let’s figure out how you’re going to tell Paul. You’ve got this.”

Just as you were going to ask her how in the hell you’d drop this bomb on him the front door opened loudly, followed by the familiar sound of Paul’s laugh, low and warm, rolling through the house. “We’re back!” Quil called out, clearly in a good mood. Jared muttered something about food and within seconds all three of them were in the kitchen rummaging around for snacks.

You sat frozen at the kitchen table gripping your mug of now-cold tea. Your eyes were glued to the wall like it might have answers to the mess of thoughts tangling in your head. Emily shot you a look that practically screamed, you better handle this soon, before helping the hungry wolves to whatever snack she deemed acceptable.

“Hey,” Paul’s voice broke through the fog. You looked up just as he walked over to you. His usual easy grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked. Your voice faltering slightly as you tried to sound normal.

“The one that says you’re either about to cry or punch someone.” He tilted his head. His grin returning. “Hopefully not me.”

You forced a laugh but it came out weak and shaky. “I’m fine. Just tired. You know, the usual.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. His sharp instincts both as a wolf and your imprint meant there was no hiding anything from him for long. “Uh-huh. Sure babe. You’re totally not being weird. Not at all.” He teased lightly.

“I am not!” you shot back too quickly. His brows shot up.

“Okay…” He dragged the word out, standing and looking toward the kitchen where Quil and Jared were now arguing over a loaf of bread. Paul glanced back at you. His concern deepening. “Wanna take a walk? Fresh air might feel good.”

You hesitated. Your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t do this here. Not with Jared and Quil’s supernatural hearing and Emily’s knowing looks. “Yeah,” you muttered finally, standing abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Paul smiled softly and walked behind you as you made your way out of the house. He grabbed his jacket and followed you out the door. The crisp air hit your skin, grounding you slightly as you led him down the gravel path toward the edge of the forest. Paul stayed quiet. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he matched your pace. He didn’t push but you could feel his eyes on you. His quiet presence making your nerves churn even more.

When you finally stopped, he turned to face you. His expression soft but cautious. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back against a tree. His arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting… off since we got back. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you better than that love.”

You fidgeted. Your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater as you avoided his gaze. Your stomach was in knots and the words felt stuck in your throat. “Paul, I… I need to tell you something,” you started. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his tone steady but laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a strange almost choking sound which made his eyes widen. “Are you okay? It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” he said while stepping closer.

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly yet again. Your voice pitching higher than you wanted. “It’s just… this is… ugh!” You threw your hands up while pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “You’re going to freak out.”

Paul blinked slowly. His brows knitting together as a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up before babe. What’s going on?” You just had to tell him. Just do it.

You stopped pacing. Your chest tightening as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paul’s face went blank, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you. You felt the blood drain from your face. The panic rising as his lack of reaction stretched on. “Paul?” you whispered. Your voice trembling. “Say something. Please, say something.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You’re serious?” he asked in a silky soft voice like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

You nodded. Your throat tight. “Yeah. I just found out today. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even sure how I should tell you, because I know we’re young, and everything’s crazy right now, and…”

“Shh,” he said cutting you off gently. He stepped forward completely closing the distance between you. His hands finding your arms as he looked down at you. Those chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “You’re pregnant? We’re… having a baby? Our baby?”

Your heart pounded as you nodded again with tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah.”

A slow grin spread across his face. It started small but grew until it lit up his whole expression. He laughed softly almost in disbelief and suddenly pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe. “You’re serious?” he asked again. His voice muffled against your hair. “We’re having a baby?”

You let out a watery laugh. Your hands clutching at his jacket. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.” You said softly.

Paul pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I can’t even…” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “This is crazy, but it’s… it’s amazing. I’m so happy right now,” He grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “We’re having a baby!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not scared? Or mad?”

“Of course, I’m scared,” he admitted. His hands moving to cradle your face. “But I’m not mad. Never. You’re my world, and now… now we’re building something together. How could I be anything but happy about that?”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch. “Well, I’m glad one of us is confident. Because I was ready to fake my death and disappear into the woods.”

Paul laughed before kissing your forehead softly. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, babe. And this kid? They’re going to have the best damn parents in the world.” His hand ran over your abdomen gently.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you rested your forehead against his neck. “I hope you’re ready to break the news to the pack, though. I can already hear Embry’s jokes.”

Paul’s grin only widened. A glimmer of excitement sparking in his eyes. “We’ve got to tell them.”

Your stomach dropped, and you blinked at him. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said. His voice filled with conviction. “Why wouldn’t we? This is huge! It’s amazing! They’re going to be so happy for us.”

“Paul,” you said slowly while trying to reel him back in. “We just found out. Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, let it sink in first? Maybe figure out how we’re going to explain this before we say anything?”

But Paul shook his head. His hands framing your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s nothing to explain, babe. This is good news. They’re family. They’ll support us no matter what. And if anyone has anything negative to say…” His voice dropped slightly. A spark of protectiveness flaring in his tone. “They’ll have to deal with me. But they’re going to be so excited love. So damn excited.”

You hesitated. Your doubts lingering. “It’s not that simple, Paul. What if they think it’s irresponsible? Or too soon?”

He took your hands, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Look, I know things are messy right now. The timing might not be perfect. But then again, when is it ever? What matters is that this is ours. You, me, and this baby. We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” His voice softened and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “I want to celebrate that with the people who care the most about us.”

His sincerity broke through your defenses, and you sighed, nodding reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” he said. His smile warm and full of pride. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not want to shout it from the rooftops?”

A small laugh slipped out despite yourself. You shook your head at his antics. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re the one dealing with the fallout.”

Paul chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. Now, let’s go tell them.”

As he led you back toward the house, his excitement practically radiating off him, you still felt a twinge of nerves. But the way he held your hand, so steady and unshakable, made you believe that somehow everything would work out.

The moment you and Paul stepped back into the house. Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you. Her lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. Her gaze lingered on Paul who was still vibrating with energy like he could barely contain himself. She exhaled softly, relief washing over her face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked you, her voice low enough that only you and Paul could hear.

“Of course, I know,” Paul cut in with his grin so wide it was practically smug. “You really think she could keep something like this from me?” His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His hand warm against your side as he glanced down at you. “She tried, though. Gotta give her credit.”

Emily’s smile grew. She stepped closer to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad you told him,” she said simply. Her calm steadiness grounded you in a way nothing else could.

Jared and Quil, however, were still oblivious. Quil frowned at Paul. His sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. “What’s up with you? You look like you just hit the jackpot.”

“Yeah,” Jared added, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got that weird, smug thing going on. Like you know something we don’t.”

Paul smirked, his fingers flexing slightly on your waist. “Maybe I do.”

Quil rolled his eyes. “You gonna share with the class, or…?”

Paul leaned against the back of the couch looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t wanna repeat myself.”

Jared groaned. “Dude, seriously? You’re such a…”

“Later,” Paul interrupted. His grin growing wider. Jared muttered something under his breath, but Paul didn’t seem to care. His attention stayed on you. His thumb brushing absently along your hip.

By the time Sam and the rest of the pack arrived the room was buzzing with conversation. The pack had settled in, tired but loud as usual, filling the space with their usual chaos. You could feel your nerves creeping back but Paul’s steady presence beside you kept them at bay.

Once the noise quieted enough for him to speak, Paul cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward him. The sudden intensity of his expression silencing even Quil’s usual chatter.

Emily, sipping her tea, shot Paul a look. Silently daring him to be subtle. But Paul being Paul had no plans for subtlety. He straightened while crossing his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. “Me and Y/N… we’re not just us anymore. We’re adding one.”

The room went silent. All eyes turning toward him. Jared frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Quil looked at you both, confused. “Wait. Did you get a dog? Please tell me it’s a dog.”

Paul smirked, clearly reveling in the suspense. “Nope. Not a dog.”

Embry tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “A cat? Fish? What?”

Paul chuckled, dragging it out just a little longer. “Think bigger.”

Quil’s eyes narrowed and then he gasped. His mouth dropping open. “Oh my God! You’re moving?! Are you leaving the rez?”

Paul groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “No! Not moving, not a pet, not a damn secret stash of food.” He glanced at you. His grin softening slightly and nodded like it was your moment to take over.

And you couldn’t help it. With all their clueless guesses and Paul’s smug antics a laugh bubbled out of you, warm and uncontrollable. Everyone froze, watching you with the most curious eyes and through your laughter, you managed to blurt, “We’re having a baby!”

The room went completely still for a beat, Jared’s apple frozen mid-air as his jaw dropped. Quil looked between you and Paul. His face blank before he finally sputtered, “Wait… like an actual baby?” Even Sam looked a little shell shocked at that news.

“Yes, Quil,” Paul said dryly though his grin betrayed his pride. “An actual baby. Our baby.”

Jared blinked rapidly then burst out laughing, slapping the counter. “Holy shit. You’re serious? Paul Lahote’s gonna be a dad?”

Quil let out a strangled laugh while running a hand through his hair. “Wow. This poor kid’s gonna have your temper, huh? Better hope they get your patience.” He looked at you with a knowing grin.

Sam, who had entered the room halfway through the chaos, finally stepped forward. His expression calm but full of warmth. “That’s great news,” he said simply while clapping Paul on the shoulder before looking at you. “You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

The pack didn’t hold back after that. Quil and Jared immediately started throwing out ridiculous suggestions for baby names while Embry vowed to make the baby a tiny wolf plushie as a first gift. The teasing was relentless, but it was full of love. It was clear that they were genuinely happy for you both. Your earlier nerves vanishing in an instant at their exuberance.

Hours later when the house had quieted and everyone had left, you and Paul found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. You curled up against his side. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped securely around you.

“You know,” you murmured, smiling faintly, “your announcement was terrible.”

Paul laughed. The sound rumbling through his chest. “Terrible? That was brilliant.”

“You had everyone thinking we got a dog,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I think Quil’s still processing.”

Paul smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, I had to keep them guessing. Besides, you’re the one who cracked under pressure.”

You rolled your eyes but the warmth in his gaze softened your retort. His hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently as he whispered, “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your voice steady. “We are.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice low and full of quiet conviction. “It’s gonna be perfect. You, me, and our little one. We’ve got this.”

Paul’s lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, grounding you for a fleeting moment. His hand, warm and steady on your stomach, reminded you of the little life you’d just announced to the pack. But the moment his forehead rested against yours the weight of what was coming next crept back in.

Your parents. His parents.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded. “Paul,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “How are we going to tell them? My mom is going to flip, and not in a good way. And your mom…”

“Hey,” Paul interrupted softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but the steady warmth in his eyes drew you in. His grin was softer now, tempered with something deeper. “We’ll tell them the same way we told the pack, together. And if your mom flips, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle all of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve met my mom,” you whispered. Your voice wavering as you tried to find humor in the situation. “She’s going to think this is reckless. She’ll probably yell. A lot.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he tipped your chin up with his knuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then let her yell. I’ll stand there and take it because, at the end of the day, none of that matters. What matters is us and this baby.”

You swallowed hard trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over. “But what if it’s too much? What if they think we’re too young, or not ready, or…”

Paul’s grip on you tightened slightly. His voice cutting through your spiral. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow,” he said. His tone firm but laced with tenderness. “If that’s what it takes to make them see how serious I am, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll do it tonight if you want.”

Your breath caught as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I love you. I love this baby. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my family now. You’ve always been my family and nothing, not your mom, not mine, not anyone, is going to change that.”

The conviction in his voice broke something loose in your chest. The fear and doubt unraveling as his words sank in. You let out a shaky laugh with tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just solve everything by offering to marry me, you know.”

Paul smirked, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but it’s a pretty damn good start, isn’t it?”

You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned into him, letting his steady warmth anchor you. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmured more to yourself than him.

“We already are,” he said, his voice low and sure. “One step at a time. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You know that love.”

As his arms tightened around you, you felt it, the certainty he carried, the unwavering belief that you could face anything together. It didn’t erase all your fears, but it made them feel a little smaller, a little more manageable.

And for now, and forever that would be enough.

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[wendichester]

heyy could you pls write a sam x reader thing (they’re friends but they’re in love with each other) where sam is in a tight shirt and his biceps js look scrumptious and reader bites his bicep and he’s like extremely cute and confused and reader js says how great his biceps look and he gets all flustered and then they js go back n forth complimenting each other before a kiss n confession and he lets reader squeeze his bicep while he flexes it and he LOVES IT

also (assuming reader is quite a fair bit smaller than sam) like he lowk has a lil size thing bc reader’s hands r smaller than his bicep, it doesn’t have to be in an nsfw way but like if u could add that as a feature that’d be cool (u don’t have to)

but yars, if ur not up to write it that’s completely okay, no pressure!! but if you can then thank youuu🩷🩷

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 bite-sized problems,

pairing. sam winchester x reader ( f )

wordcount. 579 genre. fluffy fluff

warnings. fluffy mutual pining, bicep biting (yes, it’s adorable), size difference (playful, flustering), sam being bashful but so into it, one (1) first kiss

It starts with the shirt.

A stupid shirt. A basic black tee that somehow fits Sam obscenely well. Like, painted-on well. Like, is-that-illegal-in-some-states well. You’re halfway through watching him pace the bunker library, muttering about lore inconsistencies and smudging graphite onto the pages of his notebook—and all you can look at is the way his sleeves cling to his arms like they're hanging on for dear life.

He reaches for a book on a high shelf.

And that’s it. That’s the final straw.

You’re across the room before your brain can even catch up with your body. You grab his arm, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean in and bite his bicep.

Just a little. Just a nibble. A love-chomp.

Sam yelps.

“What the hell?!”

You pull back instantly, blinking. “Sorry! Sorry—I just—” You gesture at his arm helplessly. “They’re just so… there. And I blacked out a little.”

He stares at you. “You bit me.”

“You make it sound like I drew blood,” you mutter. “It was more of a nibble.”

His eyes narrow, but his ears are turning red, so you know he’s not really mad. “Why would you nibble my arm?”

You point at it. “Because look at it! Look at this situation! That shirt is a war crime, Sam.”

He blinks down at himself, confused. “It’s just a shirt.”

“No. No, Samuel.” You reach out and grab his bicep again—your fingers barely touch around the bulk of it. “This is not just a shirt. This is criminal. These arms are ridiculous. Your biceps are literally the size of my entire face.”

Sam chokes out a laugh, flustered. “You’re exaggerating.”

You drag your hand down his arm slowly. “Am I?”

His jaw flexes. “You think they look… good?”

You scoff. “Sam. I want to bite them. That’s not a normal level of appreciation.”

He scratches the back of his neck, clearly fighting a smile, and God help you, the veins in his forearm pop when he does it. “Well. Uh. I work out.”

You snort. “Gee, you think?”

“I—” He pauses, blushing now, voice softer. “I like when you grab my arm.”

You blink. “You what?”

He gestures vaguely, almost sheepish. “You always do that thing when we’re walking through crowds. Just—grab it. Hold on to me.”

You go very still. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I—” He clears his throat. “I really like it.”

You laugh, a little breathless now. “Wow. This whole time I thought you were just tolerating my casual manhandling.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p. “Definitely not.”

You squeeze his bicep again, testing. He tenses it under your hand, just a little—showing off now.

“Are you flexing for me, Winchester?”

He raises a brow. “Is it working?”

You nod solemnly. “Deeply.”

His smile turns lopsided, dimple showing. “You know your hands are like… tiny, right?”

You stare at your palm on his bicep. It does look small. Ridiculously so.

You look up. “You like that?”

He blushes harder. “Maybe.”

You grin. “Do I get to kiss you now, or do we keep complimenting each other until someone faints?”

Sam doesn’t answer. He just dips his head and kisses you.

It’s soft. And a little shy. And perfect.

When he pulls back, he presses his forehead against yours. “Been wanting to do that for a while.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“Can I flex again now?”

You laugh. “Sam, I will always let you flex for me.”

ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .ᐟ

[on-the-clear-blue]

So do yall know about Jon Breaks Bad News? Guy that calls people for other people to, y'know, break bad news, sometimes in a funny way sometimes for serious stuff...the reason why I am saying this is because like any other DP fan I have the urge to say "But what if my favorite ghost?"

--

Danny, l a ring down as he reads the message: Hello is this Jason?

Jason, fully still in "I cut off mafia boss heads and put them in a duffle bag" days: Who the fuck is this.

Danny, not even a little bothered: My name is Phantom, from Phantom breaks bad news, are you Jason?

Jason, honestly confused what is happening here: I...how did you get this number?

Danny, sipping a smoothie: i am just going to assume your Jason, Tim says that you broke into his house and beat him up in scaled panties, and that your whole gimmick is a rip off of the guy who killed you, B misses you and would still love you after all...why did you wear underwear while breaking into some guys house?

Jason, feeling like he just got flashed banged: Ex-fucking-scuse me? Tim that little bitch, I swear to- he fucking stole my dad and my fucking suit he doesn't get shit to say!

Danny, looking to Jazz off camera: So you broke inot the house to beat up the guy who slept with your dad and stole a suit? What was he going to a wedding?

Jason, feeling like he is having an aneurism: I...I am going to hang up.

Danny, stretching like a cat: Okay bye, love you.

Jason: confused sqawking before hanging up

Danny, dead pan looking to the camera: He didn't say it back.

---

Babs, infront of the computer in the clock tower: Keep going that way Batman, the target is just around the corner...hang on i am getting a call.

Danny, now floating upside down: Hi this is Phantom from Phanton breaks bad news, is this Barbara?

Babs, eyes widening as she scrambles to start tracing the call because its coming through the bat network: Who is this? How did you get on here?

Danny, looking to Sam and Tucker off camera: I just picked up the phone, are you Barbara? Because I have bad news for you.

Babs, getting frustrated because every time she finds an avenue of finding the caller, it goes dead a second later: It...it is, who is this?

Danny, watchingnas Tucker gets an evil smirk on his face, typing hard on his PDA: Like I said, my name is Phantom of Phantom breaks bad news, this message is from a dude named Jay? Saying, get your redheaded ass back home you can play with the leather clad bastard man later, you have a college exam later, your father would be disappointed. What are you doing for college?

Babs, freaking out because what ever was blocking her started to counter hack her: U-uh...Library stuff, Sorry did you say Jay?

Danny, popping the 'P': Yup, payed me 50 dollars to call! I love you bye."

Babs, confused as the counter hacking stopped dead: I...what?

Danny, still haven't hung up: Say it back.

Babs, so utterly confuaed: I-i love you too?

Danny, grinning: great thanks bye.

Babs, wondering what the fuck just happened.

In Amity Park

Danny talking to Sam: Could you see what Tuck was doing during all that?

Sam, who in turn was lounging in a bean bag reading a book: Yeah...something about batman files? I wasnt paying attention, he'll tell us if we need to worry.

---

Bruce, running around all of Gotham, trying desperately to solve the Riddlers puzzle to save some hostages, getting a call over coms: What is it.

Danny. Looking over at Ellie who was in camera frame, floating above him: Wow someone's grouchy, take a cough drop dude, Anyways my name is Phantom from Phantom breaks bad news,I got hired from a guy named Edward to tell you some.bad news? Is this Batemen?

Bruce, skidding to a stop, tapping into another com level: Oracle, he is back

Danny, blinking a bit as the call went silent: Hello? Fuck did he hang up on me?

Bruce, growling as he speaks: Speak, You said that Nigma sent you something to tell me?

Danny, scrunching up his nose: Your a real people person arnt you...Your buddy Edward says, you got duped, it isnt actually him and your being scammed into not looking in the right places, and that he is offended that you would think such a low quality riddle is from him.

Bruce, eye twitching: What. How could this not be him we...unless...

Danny, batting away Ellies hand as she tries to steal the Fenton phone they are calling from: Oh he just payed me more, looks like he is...actually on vacation? And who ever bitch with a bad bob is running around with his name isnt actually him, if you dont believe him check...I think that is in Cuba?

Bruce, switching coms once more: Oracle, look into Cuba, The real Riddler may be there actually, Robin, go back to the cave and grab the extra strength Clayface spray.

Danny, at the same time, looking at Ellie who makes grabby hands at the phone: No i am- no i am not done yet- okay you can do the next one but- ugh fine but let me hang up first.

Bruce, finally returning to the call: Phantom are you still there? Phantom...Fuck me sideways in a gondola.

Babs, pulling a face that could be felt from over the coms: Could never pay me enough to sleep with your stinky goth ass, go see the Cat or Supes later if you want to get-

Bruce, blushing slightly: Silence. I didn't mean to say that, try and find Nigma then get back to tracking Phantom.

---

Ellie on the phone this time, Danny over her shoulder this time: Hello this is Specter from Specter breaks bad news is this Bateman?

Bruce pausing giving a presentation, looking up at the intercom of the watch tower: Of course you are able to call here.

The rest of the JL, looking around at each other: Batman what is-

Ellie, leaning back into Danny: Yeah, so i got a message here from you kid Dick, which b-t-dubs, is a super bad name to give to your child, like come on man.

Bruce holding his head in his hands because he has been subjected to these two for years at this point: I didn't name him, he came with it already when I got him...just speak, get this over with.

Ellie, giggling: Pump the hate breaks Bates, Dick here says that Fuck you for being a horrible father, you are a narcissistic, sociopathic, middled aged man baby that cant seem to keep the goth furry inside and causes untold emotional and mental trauma on anyone unlucky enough to meet you, he hopes you die alone and you are undeserving of love...also that if you replace the pop tarts you ate he takes everything back and he would love you forever.

The JL, completely speechless because some little girl just absolutely roasted batman but also since that roasting was written by a grinning Nightwing that is sitting across from batman

Bruce, after taking a few deep breaths: I really dont like how my children use you two to air grievances with me.

Ellie, humming: Oh yeah, we also got one form Tim, Tason Jodd, Damian Al Ghul (specificallynot Wayne), and...Jarro? Also, like five more from this Dick guy.

Bruce, slumping into his chair: I am revoking Tim's computer privileges...its that bastards fault about telling the others about your services...

[thehmn]

I was joking about Kojima doing something freaky with Heartman in Death Stranding 2 but never in my wildest imagination could I have come up with this.

Spoilers below the cut.

This right here has some insane implications for Heartman’s future love life.

Deadman and Sam are this game’s version of Hal and Snake from Metal Gear Solid. In their first game together Hal will ride off into the sunset with Snake if Meryl, the female love interest, dies and in subsequent games Snake and Hal have moved in together and raised a daughter though Snake still has flings with women here and there. Even though they’re never a confirmed couple it’s strongly implied by them living as a family and they get a lot of callbacks to other confirmed couples, including confirmed same-sex couples.

Sam and Deadman aren’t far off. Once they start suspecting that they can’t trust the president Deadman joins Sam in the shower partly to drown out their conversation but he also press Sam up against the wall so it’ll look like they’re having sex. That way no one will wonder why they’re always sneaking off together. But later on they get a much more emotional connection and in a heartfelt scene Deadman puts his hand on baby Lou’s pod as if it was a pregnant belly and basically asks Sam “The three of us, we’re a family, aren’t we?” and by the end they hold Lou together looking exactly like a couple of loving dads. Before they part ways they hold each other tight in a way Sam hasn’t done with anyone else. In the second game Deadman even tells Fragile he knows Sam’s body better than anyone, which is even less subtle than “I know the major better than anyone” from Metal Gear which is considered one of the most explicit confirmations of a gay couple in the franchise.

So Sam is devastated when he learns Deadman died in Death Stranding 2. Deadman plays a cruel joke on Sam by letting him think he can hug him only for Sam to tumble through the holographic message. In Deadman’s defence he didn’t know he’d be dead by then and probably assumed they’d be able to hold each other for real eventually.

He still found a way to return to Sam though. He donated his heart to Heartman who had abused his own heart to the point of breaking it completely. With Deadman and Heartman’s newfound connection Deadman is now able to possess Heartman’s body in the three minutes Heartman dies every 21 minutes and later on they seem to come to an agreement where Deadman can take over Heartman’s body whenever he wants.

Deadman in Heartman’s body lures Sam to a hidden corner where he explains the situation and Sam eagerly throws himself into Deadman’s arms…just in time for Heartman to wake up. Everything about both Sam and Heartman’s reactions tells us this wasn’t an innocent hug. Heartman clearly feels confused and violated so Dollman asks Sam to leave so he can explain the situation to Heartman.

Heartman seems to really think it over because one morning Sam wakes up in Heartman’s lab just as Heartman is coming back to life, suggesting Deadman had a hand in setting the situation up. Heartman sits down uncomfortably close to Sam as if he’s trying to tell him something. They talk about the state of the world for a bit before Heartman tells Sam that he too is in love with a woman, The Hydrologist, who lives in his lab and who has build a hotspring for Heartman, comparing the hotspring to love and making love. He then tells Sam that he can use his hotspring whenever he wants. No prices for guessing what he means.

We don’t know if Sam takes him up on the offer but Heartman basically told him “I’m okay with the three of you sharing my body” The Hydrologist even calls Heartman “our shared friend” whenever she talks to Sam. Just wild Kojima.

[goddamnitmahtin]

All in Your Head

(a dc x dp au)

Bruce: *shaking Harley’s hand* Thanks for coming to see me on short notice.

Harley: It’s no problem. I didn’t have plans today.

Bruce: *leads her to the sitting area, sitting in an armchair*

Harley: *sits across from him* What’s going on Bruce? Is it system stuff? I thought you all were doing pretty okay last session. All things considered.

Bruce: I thought so too but…. I found another voice or alter I guess? And I don’t know when he got here. If he’s been here the whole time or if maybe I got stressed out and split? I dunno.

Harley: *nods* Both are possible… your split tolerance isn’t the best Bruce. What do you know about this new alter so far?

Bruce: He says his name is Danny and that he’s 15. *shrugs* I don’t know what he looks like. Matches says that he looks the way we did in high school but sometimes he’s a ghost. I don’t even know what that means.

Harley: *writing down notes* So he’s a non human alter. This wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had.

Bruce: *thinking about the dark shadow person with bat ears that crawls around on the ceilings in headspace* I’m aware…

Harley: Is Danny close to front right now? Is there any way we can communicate with him?

Bruce: *trying to check* Um… no. But B is near front. He says he’s gonna look for him.

Harley: *smiles* Your gatekeeper is very responsible.

Bruce: *sighs* I do not know what I would do without that guy- I would not be able to handle our kids- *dissociates*

Harley: *waits patiently*

Bruce: *realizes someone is trying to switch* Gimme a second-

Harley: Take all the time you need.

*a few moments pass in silence*

Danny!Bruce: Someone asked for me?

Harley: *smiles, holding out a hand* I’m Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I am assuming you are Danny?

Danny!Bruce: *sits up excitedly* Oh my god lady- you gotta help me- I possessed this rich guy thinking I could lay low for a bit while my core healed but now I’m stuck in here and there’s like a lot of dudes in here and some sort of bat shadow thing? It’s scary as fuck- I just wanna go home-

Harley: *calming voice* It’s okay Danny. You are probably a little confused about your situation.

Danny!Bruce: *groans, his face in his hands* I just wanna go home…

Harley: *assuming Danny is talking about false memories* Why don’t you tell me a little bit about that? What you remember before joining the headspace?

Danny!Bruce: I live in Amity Park. It’s a pretty secluded area. I have a mom and dad and a sister named Jazz. I’ve got two best friends, Sam and Tucker. Literally where am I right now- because this isn’t Amity Park.

Harley: You are in a city called Gotham.

Danny!Bruce: Fucking Gotham!? Holy Cheerios, no wonder this guy’s brain is so weird…. This place is practically as volatile as Amity Park. This also explains the huge amounts of ecto in some of these kids-

Harley: *frowns* Ecto?

[fireinmoonshot]

patience, baby | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: After escaping the Red Room, Bucky Barnes became a father figure to you. He'd never approve of you dating Joaquín Torres... but you have to come clean to him about it eventually. Warnings: Mentions of the Red Room, brainwashing and killing people. Reader was brainwashed and has killed before. Word Count: 1.7k A/N: Another request from a lovely anon 💗 This was fun to write. I've missed writing Bucky. I will definitely be writing for him again once Thunderbolts comes out and my Bucky Barnes obsession is reborn... Joaquín is extra cheeky in this one as well. I adore him. This is perfectly timed to be in celebration of him being in Avengers: Doomsday!

When Bucky had first introduced you to Joaquin Torres, he hadn’t thought much of it. The kid was the new Falcon, but he was also annoying as hell. It was only because of Sam that he’d bothered to introduce the two of you in the end.

Sam had insisted on it, saying that it would be good for both you and Joaquin to get to know one another. You were similar ages and could learn from each other. “Joaquin could do with some tips from someone like her,” Sam had said, and Bucky had relented eventually. He’d assumed that, since he was like a father figure to you, that Joaquin might be like a brother to you. You never really knew your biological family, so he convinced himself that this might be good for you.

You’d been through a lot in your life, being raised in the Red Room. Once you’d gotten out, Bucky had been there to help you through it. He understood what it was like to be brainwashed, to do things and not realise you were doing them. He’d helped you the best way he knew how. 

It was exactly why he was so protective of you. The second he realised he was wrong about all that, though, he regretted ever introducing you. 

He’d seen you staring across the room at Joaquin while he was training with Sam, trying to learn a barrel kick on solid ground before trying it in the air. After the accident, Joaquin had to take time off to recover, so he’d been hitting the gym pretty regularly to get his strength back now that he was healed.

The look on your face told Bucky everything he needed to know. 

“Stop that,” Bucky had said, placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you to face him so that you would stop watching Joaquin. “None of that, okay?”

You raised your eyebrows and shook off his grip. “None of what, Bucky?” You said, as if you didn’t know what he was talking about – the fact that you’d been caught staring at Joaquin. And who could blame you? The man was an incredible fighter and it wasn’t your fault that he’d worn a sleeveless shirt to training.

He pointed a finger over towards Sam and Joaquin. “None of that. He’s a kid, you’re an Avenger.”

“Technically he is also an Avenger…”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t even start.”

Luckily, you had dropped it after that – much to Bucky’s glee (if he even had such an emotion, you thought). You’d gone back to training with Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes wander across the gym to where Joaquin was training.

Behind his back, though… well, what Bucky didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? 

Whenever Bucky wasn’t watching, you and Joaquin would spend time together. The more Bucky trusted you, the more lenient he was with you spending your time outside the Avengers HQ – as if you weren’t a grown adult. If he’d known you were spending that time with Joaquin, you knew he wouldn’t be so calm about it. 

It didn’t take you very long to fall for Joaquin, or for him to fall for you. Even though he knew your past, he knew the rough details about who you were and what you’d done, he didn’t seem to care. All he wanted to do was to sweep you off your feet every single day. Sometimes, quite literally.

For the first time in your life, you felt human. 

It was that fact that made you realise that you needed to tell Bucky. You couldn’t keep a secret like this from him any longer. He’d want you to be happy, you knew that. In time, he’d warm up to Joaquin, you hoped. 

Joaquin meets you in the corridor outside the gym, a cheeky grin on his face as usual. He glances around to make sure no one is watching before he sweeps you into his arms, pulling you to his chest and brushing his lips over yours.

“Be careful, baby,” you murmur against his lips. “This is not the way I want Bucky to find out about us.” 

He pulls away reluctantly, a smile on his face yet again. “Sorry, I just can barely keep my hands off of you. I haven’t seen you in three days since I’ve been away with Sam and I’ve missed the feeling of you in my arms.”

His words set butterflies off in your stomach and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to peck his lips. His hold tightens on you as you do and he attempts to deepen the kiss into something more but you pull away, leaving him pouting.

“Patience, baby,” you hum. “You’ll get plenty of kisses later when we aren’t right outside the room where Sam and Bucky are, okay? Can you be patient for me?”

Joaquin nods his head without hesitation. It’s taking all his self control not to pull you into the nearest storage closet and show you how unwilling he is to be patient right now. 

You place your hands on his chest and push him away from you gently. “Let’s go and see how this is going to play out…”

He reaches down and takes your hand. Your head snaps towards him. Does he seriously think holding your hand is a good way to break the news to Bucky?

“It’s a compromise,” Joaquin explains. “You won’t let me push you against this wall and kiss you properly, so I’m holding your hand when we walk in there. I’m not accepting any argument you might be thinking up in that gorgeous head of yours.” 

Then he starts leading you into the gym, pulling you along behind him. You laugh to yourself and hurry to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. 

Bucky and Sam are standing across the gym near the lockers, talking amongst each other. Bucky’s back is to you, meaning he thankfully can’t see the way you and Joaquin are walking towards him, hands entwined.

“So, Bucky,” you start as you reach the two of them.

He spins around, his eyes instantly falling on your hands. He stares at them for a second before his eyes meet yours. “What is this?” He asks, glancing between you and Joaquin.

“Joaquin and I are together,” you state, figuring it’s better to just rip off the bandaid and get everything out in the open straight away. That way, there’s no chance of Bucky butting in and trying to stop you from what you’re about to say.

Sam, standing just to the right of Bucky, stifles a laugh. He’d seen this coming from a mile away, but somehow Bucky hadn’t. He’s almost tempted to walk away and let Bucky handle this alone, but for the sake of Joaquin, he stays.

“You’re what?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “I thought I said–”

“I know what you said,” you interrupt. “I’m an Avenger and he’s just a kid. But he’s an Avenger, too. And we’ve been spending time together behind your back – that was my choice, not his – and we really like each other.”

You feel a little silly having to explain all this to Bucky. Is this what it would’ve been like if you’d lived a normal life and had to introduce your boyfriend to your dad as a teenager?

Bucky looks between you and Joaquin, a little lost for words. You’re dating someone. For the first time since Bucky has known you, you’re not entirely his responsibility. You’ve been like a daughter to him for years now… and Joaquin is apparently not like a brother to you like he’d expected.

“I don’t think-”

He’s cut off again by you interrupting him, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed by it. You’ve learnt this from him. Not only some of your fighting techniques once you’d escaped the Red Room, but apparently some of his personality traits too.

“I’ve never been able to have a personal life, Bucky,” you state. “I’ve spent most of my life killing people without even knowing what I was doing. I’ve spent a lot of my life being brainwashed into someone else. Can’t you just let me have this?”

Your voice is soft and it’s just enough to break through Bucky’s walls. 

“Just… just go and start stretching for training,” he says gruffly. “And don’t hold hands when you’re around me. I don’t wanna see any physical contact, you hear me?”

A smile breaks out on your face and you look up at Joaquin, who is sporting a similar look on his own face. “I’ll take care of her, Bucky, I swear,” he replies.

Bucky waves his hand, dismissing you both and watching as you walk over to the sparring mats on the other side of the room to start stretching. He’s not mad, not really. Just concerned. But everything you said was right – you deserve to be able to have this, this piece of normality, and he can’t find it in himself to not let you, even if it terrifies him. 

“I don’t want him to hurt her, Sam,” Bucky murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beside him, Sam laughs. “Buck, Joaquin wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“She’s been through enough,” Bucky continues as if he didn’t even hear Sam’s words. “The Red Room, everything that she went through there, learning to get past it all…”

Sam claps a hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Joaquin isn’t going to hurt her. Couldn’t you tell that just from the way he looks at her? The kid is head over heels. He practically worships the ground she walks on, man. She’s in good hands. Loosen up a little. It wouldn’t hurt you.”

He shoots Sam a look and steps aside, forcing Sam’s hand to drop from his shoulder. He can only hope that Sam is right about that, that you’re in good hands with Joaquin and that he’ll never hurt you.

“Tell him to watch his back if he does,” Bucky calls over his shoulder as he starts to walk towards you where you’re stretching. “Torres, get to your own mat! It does not take two people to stretch out a calf muscle!"

––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[nena-la-fresa]

All Night Long | Good Ending |

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

All Night Long | Neutral Ending | /// All Night Long | Bad Ending |

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Flirting | Smut | Little bit of Voyeurism | P in V | Blowjob | Three way |

Word Count: 2551

Sometimes you still think about that night. You felt like Beth and Hannah were like sisters to you. You visited their house often for breakfast and dinner, so it really hurt what happened. You couldn’t even imagine how Josh felt. You still feel somewhat responsible, maybe if you hadn't been taking care of Josh that night things would have been different. 

They both knew you liked their brother. If anything they were the only ones who tried to get you together. They were the ones who set drunk Josh down on the same couch as you. You were so focused on playing with his hair and drawing lines on his face with your fingers. You even confused your feelings to him. You thought he heard you when he mumbled your name in his sleep. 

But then they went missing and Josh cut off you and everyone else. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt but what else could you do. He was mourning. 

You were a little surprised though at the invite you got. But still happy, you really hoped that he was doing somewhat better. 

When you got there it was like he was the same Josh, he didn’t look like he was mourning. He acted the same way. He still made his same flirtatious comments. He was still that boy next door kind of guy. 

He had noticed that you got cold, so he walked over with a blanket. You were about to take it when he opened it and wrapped you with the blanket. You looked up at him, a bit corny but looking into his eyes just made you feel like kissing him. 

And you feel like he noticed too, why else would he clear his throat and walk away. You felt a little disappointed. But you thought it was a good time to talk to him. You sat down next to him while he was crouching trying to light the fire. You weren’t alone so you just spoke softly so only he could hear.

“I’m really sorry for what happened Josh. I really loved Hannah and Beth. I still miss going over to your house on Sundays and eating breakfast with you guys. I really regret that day too, I should have been with Hannah that day. But I was so focused on taking care of you that I just didn’t- I didn’t think about what could happen.”

You looked up and saw him looking at you. “Thank you. I appreciate that Y/n.” 

You were about to say something when Chris interrupted, “What am I missing?” 

You rolled your eyes before looking at Chris who was crouched coming in between the two of you. 

“Everything, we just had full blown sex right now. How'd you miss it?” Josh turned slightly to look at Chris. 

“Oh shit no way. Was it hot?” Chris patted Josh on the back. 

“Oh yeah dude. It was, you couldn’t tell? Dude had me cumming three times in the span of a minute. That guys, a real sex god.” They both looked at you bewildered, not uttering a word. 

“Okay, guess I can’t joke around. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I’m going to sit on the couch where it's less awkward.” You got up and moved over to where Ashely was. 

Chris moved to where you had been sitting, “So uh, you and uh, you and her?” He nodded towards you. 

“What about me and her?” Josh continued to try and get the fire going. 

“You finally gonna ask her out?” Chris whispers, “Cuz if you don’t I might just have to. I mean have you seen that ass? Just thinking about it makes me wet. Picture it, her ass up in the air while you're pounding into her and it has her screaming your name.” 

Josh glares over at Chris. Chris laughs, “Just saying the same shit you did buddy. But seriously, I think you should finally go for it. She definitely wants you to.”

You slowly stopped talking when you heard Sam yell about there not being any hot water. Josh got up and was about to head to the basement. 

“Go.” Ashley whispered, but seeing that you didn’t get up she yelled. “Josh, do you need help? Cuz Y/n could definitely help you if you needed help.” 

Josh turned around, “Yeah I could use some help. It’s definitely a two man job.” 

“Alright well if you need me that bad I guess I’ll go.” 

You both stood at the entrance of the basement. “Oh fuck no. I’m not going down there.” 

You didn’t budge, “What you scared?” Josh smirked. 

“Yes actually. Haven’t you ever seen scary movies Josh. People die in basements. There are ghosts and shit down there, psycho’s who are waiting for people to have sex.” 

“You tryin to have sex?” He raised an eyebrow.. 

You glare at him, “Sure buddy. Let’s have sex all you want.” 

He pumps his fist, “Yes.” He sees that you still aren't moving. 

“Alright. Here.” He holds out his arm for you. 

“Come on. Just hold onto me.” You hesitated, “Trust me, if there was anything in there I’d protect you.” 

“Okay.” You wrapped your arm around his, pulling him close. He could feel your breast pressed up against his arm. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him a little hard. 

After watching Josh fix the boiler he asks for your help. “Alright turn that switch there.”

“Right here?” 

“Yeah.”

You turn the switch on and the boiler starts working. 

“Yes! High five girl!” 

“What are we kids?” You laugh but still give him a high five. 

“Nah cuz if we were kids you wouldn't have said what you did upstairs.” You could hear the flirtation in his voice. 

You could feel your face heat up. “Okay. Let’s just forget about it” You start to walk away but hear a loud sound that scared you. “What was that?” 

You backed up into Josh, the warmth that was radiating off of his chest had you melting. His hands landed on your hips keeping you close. You felt him lean down and talk in your ear. 

“That could be a lot of things. But what I’m focused on is the fact you called me a what was it again? A sex god?” 

You shifted a bit in his grasp, an exhale left his breath. “Don’t do that.” His voice barely above a whisper. 

You felt something boil up from inside you. Something about him whispering in your ear got to you. “Do what? Oh this?��� You rubbed your ass against him. 

“Fuck.” Josh gripped your waist tighter. 

“What can’t flirt back.” You felt him start to rub himself against your ass. 

One of his hands shifted from your hip to your pants. He wasted no time slipping his hand down them. His cold hand against your slit was such a sensation. His fingers went past your folds and slipped inside. “Fuck.” You whispered. 

You were at a loss of words as he pumped his fingers in and out slowly. He used his other hand to move your hair out of the way so that he could suck on your neck. His hand going back to your hip to hold you in place. 

“What was that about flirting back?” He felt you tighten around his fingers. 

“Josh please.” 

“Please what?” 

“I need you.” He took his fingers out. Leaving you feeling empty. 

“Need me where.” He put his fingers in his mouth, “God you taste so good.” 

“In me. I need you in me please.” He got right to it. He took off your clothes and his. You could feel his hard dick against your ass. 

He pushed you against the way so that you could lean forward. His dick rubbing against your folds. You could feel his arousal. 

Your once empty hole felt full, the girth and length that this man had. He started out slow. But he picked up the pace. One hand on your hip and the other against your clit. 

“Your pussy feels so good.” He whispered to you. He stopped for a bit before putting you on all fours. Your face pressed against the blanket he gave you earlier. His hands on your waist, gripping them tight enough to leave a bruise. And the feeling of his dick reaching places you wouldn't have felt while being pushed up against the wall. 

Josh's pace starts to pick up. He starts hitting all the right places and it causes you to scream. 

Unbeknownst to you both but there was someone watching. Chris was getting ready to scare you both with the first sound but when you both didn’t go investigating he got closer. That was when he saw you two. He was watching as you were grinding on Josh, and the way Josh started fingering you. He felt himself get hard. He knows he shouldn't have. He had a crush on Ashley. But what he told Josh earlier wasn't that much of a lie. He did think you were hot, especially in high school. Even when Josh dropped out he’d still see you around campus, he always wanted to talk to you. Always wanted to have sex with you. He fantasized about it a lot. 

And now here he is. Watching behind a shelf, with his dick out stroking himself to the sight of his best friend fuck the girl he thought was hot. He could feel himself getting closer to cumming when something fell. 

You both looked up in the direction of the noise. Chris’s face was now visible to you both. “Uh. I heard someone scream.” 

Josh didn’t stop though, the room filled with the sound of skin hitting against one another.  If anything Christ standing and just watching made Josh thrust even harder, like he was trying to claim his dominance. Especially with what Chris was saying earlier. 

You’ve never thought of Chris in that way but being watched did something to you. “Josh” you moaned his name and felt yourself squeezing around his dick. 

“You just gonna stand there Cochise? Cuz it looks like our girl here is getting excited from being watched. I know you haven't gotten your dick sucked. Why don’t you let her get it wet. But don’t expect it again. It’s a one-time offer Cochise.” Josh watched as Chris hesitated. 

“Or you could go back upstairs and not get any from Ashley. Cuz I know you both wont put out.”

In a rush Chris keeps the robe on but gets down on his knees. You prop yourself up but grab his hard dick. You lick the tip before looking up at him and putting it in your mouth. 

“Fuck” Chris lens his head back and grabs a fist full of hair. 

“She’s good isn't she Cochise.” Josh kept ramming into you, saliva dripping down your chin from Chris, dick in your mouth. 

“She's better with her mouth around you. So why don’t I give you a turn and you give me a turn.” 

Anger built up in Josh, “Fuck no.” Josh grabbed your arms and pulled you back up. 

“I have an idea. I don’t think you’ll like it though.” You let Josh slip out of you. You turned around, your lips hovering over his lips. “But I really want to try it. And then after I’m all yours.” 

Josh nodded, you told Chris to lay down. You made Josh watch as you sank down on Chris’ dick. You bounced on it a few times before leaning back against Chris’ chest. 

“You just want me to watch you fuck another guy?”

“No. Just come here.” You wrapped your mouth against his dick and got it wet. You sucked on the tip before pulling back, “I want you to go in.” 

“I’m sorry what?” Chris showed hesitation. 

“Chris please. Come on, don't ever tell me that you two horn dogs never thought about a girl with two dicks in her.” 

Josh smirked at you, “Wow, you’re really taking that party like porn stars seriously.” 

“You said it yourself, ‘it’s a one-time offer.’” 

Josh wasted no time. He leaned you back against Chris. Chris held your waist with one hand and the other hand its way to your breast. You moaned feeling Josh spit on your pussy and his dick. He pushed his dick against your entrance, stretching it and pressing it against Chris’. 

“Fuck” You gasped at the feeling of being filled to the brim. 

Josh starts to thrust, your pussy dripping from arousal makes it easy for them both to move inside you. You could feel yourself coming closer. Your eyes started to water, you felt that tingling sensation on your nose. They could feel you tighten around them. 

Chris pulled out and began to jerk himself off. But Josh kept going even if you began to get overstimulated. He kept fucking you while you were still on top of Chris, he just slightly lifted you to not disturb Chris letting it lose. 

You could feel Josh getting closer. His thrust were erratic, his breathing was heavy. He kept whispering your name until he came inside of you. 

Josh leaned down and kissed you. 

You all stayed there for a moment to catch a breath. That was before Chris got up after cleaning himself. “So uh, we don’t tell Ashely or anyone right?” 

“Right.” You laughed as Josh helped you put on your clothes. 

“And it was a one time thing Chris.” Josh turned around after he finished buttoning his pants. 

“Right right. I get it.” 

You all ended up going back up stairs together. Ashley got up from the couch “What took you guys so long.” She paused before seeing Chris robe. “What in god's name are you wearing?” 

Chris did the Trinity on Ashley, “I found my true calling.” 

“Pretty ironic huh.” Josh whispered over to you, you stiffened a laugh before elbowing him lightly. 

“Please tell me you're going to take a vow of silence.” Ashley joked.

“He better.” Josh spoke a little louder, confusing Ashley a bit. 

After you nudged Josh again he turned to you. “And you. What am I going to do with you?” 

You smirked at him, “With me? I did nothing.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I guess we just gotta go for round two huh.” Josh grabbed your wrist lightly trying to lead you. 

“Oh you mean round two with you know who?” You could see that he got irritated for a second. 

“Yeah sure okay.” Josh leaned down before holding your legs and throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Where are you two going?” Ashley laughed at the two of you. 

Josh started to walk up the stairs, “I gotta talk with her about some stuff. You two have fun down here.”

“Damn that basement really did something for them huh.” She laughed and looked at Chris. Who weirdly looked irritated. 

“Chris?” 

He snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah. It really did. Some kinda trauma bonding or something from the scare I gave them.” 

“Where did you even find that?” Ashley listened to Chris all the weird shit that he found in the basement. Excluding the sex and him watching you and Josh fuck before he joined in.

[supernovafics]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k words

summary: in which you and steve are not together, but sometimes— most of the time— you two find your way to each other. it all feels surprisingly okay until the guilt starts to sink in 

warnings: explicit language, cheating (both reader and steve are cheating on their partners), implied smut, a bit of drunk!steve, a lot of angst

author’s note: i love when i get an idea and it consumes my brain so much that i simply cannot do anything except write it lol enjoy this thing that may or may not eventually get a part two<3 idk<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were starting to feel bad about it. Not bad enough to stop it, but bad nonetheless. 

In the end, when this inevitably blew up, a lot of people would be affected, but when you were alone with Steve you found it too hard to force yourself to care about all of that. When you two were alone in your car in the middle of the night or alone in his bedroom because his parents weren’t home, you never cared about just how terrible all of this was.  

That was why it wasn’t until you were walking down the hallway hand in hand with your boyfriend and you spotted Steve and Nancy lingering by what you could only assume was her locker and she was smiling so happily up at him, that you finally felt a little bad. 

You looked away quickly and pretended as if you hadn’t seen them in the first place; pushing his face and especially hers far out of your mind. Instead, you focused on Jamie and listened as he talked about a history test on Friday that he didn’t feel prepared for and how his parents would go ballistic if he didn’t pass. You promised to help him study later tonight— like you always did, from the moment you two met and became friends in seventh grade— and he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips as he called you the best. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You really didn’t like thinking about how everything started with Steve. In your head, you were okay with simplifying it to one day you weren’t cheating on your boyfriend with Steve Harrington and the next day you were. Somehow that thought process made it easier; it made what you and Steve were doing feel more mindless than it actually was. 

But, just because you didn’t like thinking about the beginning didn’t change how it happened. 

It was a New Year’s Eve party at Sam Richards' house. 

You’d shown up alone because Jamie was out of town with family and had been since Christmas. Initially, you were supposed to go with them, but then at the last second, your parents decided to be festive and wanted you to be home for Christmas and the entirety of the holiday break. Weirdly enough, though, it hadn’t been as unbearable as you thought it would be.

However, you were on your own for New Year’s because your dad had a work party that was “adults only.” You honestly didn’t mind though because the thought of being stuck with a bunch of random middle-aged people sounded horrible. So, you instead decided to get stuck with a bunch of people your age, which maybe was just a different kind of bad. 

You heard about the party through a friend of a friend who didn’t even show up. The party was rowdy and boring, which were two words that probably didn’t make sense in the same sentence, but in this instance they surprisingly did.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on the rusty old swing set in the backyard, away from the music and drunk teens. Your sneaker-covered feet pushed into the grass, making you swing a little. You didn’t want to do too much because, with the amount of squeaking the swing was making, it felt as if it was on its last few days of life. 

Because of that squeaking and the fact that you were looking at the ground, you didn’t hear or see Steve walk up to you. 

You noticed him when he was only a few feet away, and you were more confused than startled when he sat down in the open swing next to you. 

“Two minutes to midnight.”

Those were not the first words Steve Harrington had ever said to you. Instead, those had been, “So what do we have to do?” after you two got paired up on a project for English last year. It was two weeks worth of meetups in the library that led to you two getting a B+ and never speaking again. 

Until now, apparently. 

“Fun,” You said because what else were you supposed to say? This entire moment didn’t really make a lot of sense to you.

You looked at Steve sitting next to you. The swing continued to squeak as he started lightly rocking back and forth. The second he met your gaze, you looked away. 

“Where's your boyfriend? Jessie something, right?”

“Jamie,” You corrected him. “He's out of town with family for the holidays. Where's your girlfriend? Mary something?”

You knew it was Nancy. Everyone knew it was Nancy. They were the talk of the school and a cliche case— smart girl falling for the popular guy, also known as the plot to one too many romcoms. 

For some reason, though, you didn’t want Steve to know that you inadvertently paid attention to him just like everyone else at your school. 

“Nancy,” He corrected you. “And she’s also at some family thing.”

You only nodded in response and things became quiet.  

“Y’know, apparently it’s bad luck to not kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve,” Steve said, filling the air of silence.

You ignored his random tidbit, which you weren’t sure was real or not. “Why did you come out here?”

His shoulders upturned in a quick shrug. “You looked bored out here. And I was bored in there.”

You could faintly hear the countdown start in the living room, everyone starting from sixty. 

The next words that should have left your lips should’ve been, “I have a boyfriend. I can't kiss you.” But, instead, you didn’t protest when Steve silently took hold of the chain of your swing and pulled it toward him so that you two were closer. 

You could’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, you should’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, but you decided not to think about it too much. When you heard the countdown get to one and everyone followed up by shouting, “Happy New Year!”, you were inwardly saying fuck it and kissing Steve Harrington in Sam Richards’ backyard. 

It was meant to be innocent, a simple peck just so you both could avoid this “bad luck” that Steve talked about, and it was completely innocent and chaste at first. Until your hand impulsively found Steve's cheek and you deepened the kiss and he didn’t stop you. 

He tasted like cigarettes and champagne, a surprisingly comforting combo, and his free hand moved to your waist, slipping underneath your coat and knit sweater. The feeling of his cold hand against your skin made you inadvertently shiver; you’d forgotten just how cold it was outside. 

“Sorry,” He muttered against your lips. 

It was the first word spoken in the last minute and it somehow managed to wake your mind up and made your thoughts finally start catching up to what was happening in this moment. You quickly realized that anyone could potentially see you two out here and even though the party inside sounded just as loud and lively as it had earlier, it was still a possibility that you two could get caught. 

You pulled back from the kiss and met Steve’s gaze. “We can’t do this here.”

It was the ‘here’ part of your sentence that fully piqued Steve’s interest. 

He stood up from the swing and reached his hand out for you to grab. “Come on.”

You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you out of the backyard and away from the house completely. It took you way too long to realize that he was taking you to his car that was parked down the street. He pulled the backseat door open and let you get inside first. 

You forced yourself not to think about anything aside from how good Steve’s mouth felt on yours and how you liked feeling his cold hands against your skin, traveling from your hips to your waist to your back and pulling you closer to him. 

Seconds blended into minutes and you suddenly weren’t sure how long you’d been in his backseat and how long you had kept nearly bumping your head against the roof every time you slightly shifted in his lap.    

It didn’t make sense to you how okay this all felt. You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Steve since last year, and yet you felt entirely comfortable with him right here in this moment.

It didn’t make sense that night and it also didn’t make sense the one after that when you saw him again and you two did a lot more than just make out in the backseat of his car. 

However, what did feel certain was the fact that everything suddenly happening between you two wasn’t meant to be anything more. You knew that you and Steve wouldn’t make sense in the daytime or in the real world. He made sense with Nancy and you made sense with Jamie. That was just the way things worked and both of you unspokenly agreed on that. 

It was only in private when you two surprisingly did make sense, and in some ways, it felt like a no-brainer. Of course, you’d see Steve most nights and during fleeting moments at school. Of course, you’d kiss or do more with him for what felt like hours in his house or your own car. Of course, you’d feel comfortable in his bed with his arms wrapped around you as you two ended up talking about nothing for hours. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You found the note in your locker halfway through third period. You asked your History teacher if you could go to the bathroom and then you headed to your locker instead of the bathrooms that were in the opposite direction because you just knew that something would be in it. 

Meet me. Bathroom. – Steve

The first time he sent a note that basically resembled that one, you laughed because how the hell were you supposed to know what bathroom he meant or when? 

And that was exactly what you told him that night when you two were in your car and he playfully pouted at you, asking why he didn’t get to see you at school. And then he let out a soft “Oh” with his own laugh when he realized that you were right and he didn’t tell you where to go or give you a time. 

From there on out, the bathroom by the gym became your and Steve's meeting place. It was usually always empty because most people opted for using the bathrooms in the gym locker rooms since they were bigger.  

After the first few times you met him there, there was really no reason for Steve to leave notes for you because the place and time was always the same, but you still kind of liked that he did. 

When you walked in at the start of sixth period instead of going to study hall, Steve was already leaning against the sink. 

He smiled when he saw you and you couldn’t help but think that that was the same smile that he’d been giving Nancy earlier; it was the same one he probably always gave her, his girlfriend. 

There was no greeting; no softly spoken “Hi’s” or anything. Instead, Steve was pulling you close and slotting his lips against yours and then shifting you two around so that you were pressed against the sink.

You savored it just for a second before you pulled away. 

“Wait,” You abruptly started and put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you two. “I, um, I think we should stop this.”

Apparently, you were feeling more than just a little bad about everything. 

Steve’s hands fell from your hips and it was easy to read the surprised look on his face, which definitely made sense because it did seem as if your words were coming entirely out of left field. 

“Oh,” He said. The surprised look fell from his face after the quickest moment. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

His nonchalance toward the situation made it all feel a thousand times easier. Maybe he didn’t really care about all of this, and that should’ve made you feel okay and good and perfectly fine, but if you were being entirely honest with yourself it didn’t make you feel any of that. 

“Okay, cool,” You responded with a forced smile instead of taking your words back or doing anything else about them. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

He gave you a quick nod. “Yeah.” 

For a second, it was hard to do what you needed to do next, but then you were finally moving away from Steve. No sort of “Goodbye” fell from your lips because it weirdly felt too hard to say the word right then.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. 

The two words played on repeat in your head as you forced yourself to leave the bathroom. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve was throwing rocks at your window. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. There was no one else it could be. 

Jamie knocked and walked through your front door like a normal person, and then he’d talk to your parents for the obligatory amount of time that was considered polite (even after being friends for so long and then dating for that past year he was still kinda scared of your dad), and then he’d greet you. 

He would not throw rocks at your window. 

The smallest part of you was glad that Steve was at least doing this now instead of ten minutes earlier when Jamie was still here studying because that would’ve ruined everything for you. However, Steve being here now still pissed you off nonetheless. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-yelled when you were standing in front of him in your front yard. You adjusted the hoodie that you haphazardly slipped on in your quick race down the stairs. “My parents are home.”

If he really wanted to, he could’ve called you out on how bad of an excuse that was because there had been many prior moments where your parents' presence hadn’t been that concerning to you. It wasn’t like they checked on you periodically throughout the night, so if you left in the middle of the night, all you had to do was make sure you were back by morning. 

Steve didn’t remind you of any of that, though. Instead, he said, “I just— I just wanted to tell you something.”

There was something about the way he was talking and his stance right then that made you give him a look. “Are you drunk?”

He answered with the most unconvincing “No” ever and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“How did you get here?”

“Walked,” he answered and you nodded, relieved that he didn’t drive, and then you felt kind of annoyed for caring. You really didn’t want to care about him anymore. 

“So… you, uh, wanted to tell me something?” You asked him. The faster the conversation started, the faster it could be over and he could leave your front yard. 

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded. “I just— I wish you hadn’t ended things with us today.” 

His words confused you because he had seemed perfectly fine about it all earlier. Your eyebrows furrowed. “But, we agreed—“

“I know,” He interrupted you. “I know, and I get it, I guess. But, I just don’t want you to think that it’s easy for me to let you and what we had go. It isn't easy. At all. I didn’t realize how much I really like you and how much I love what we had until you decided to end it.”

You wondered if he was only admitting that because he was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t have said any of that to you otherwise. But, either way, at least he had the guts to say what you’d been too scared to. You hadn’t even really admitted it to yourself, how much you liked and cared about him. As much as you wanted to pretend that what you two had been doing was mindless and didn’t really mean anything, it was actually the complete opposite; of course, it was.

You still had to look away from him in this moment, though, because you weren’t drunk and it felt too hard to admit the truth like he was. “Steve…”

“What changed?” He asked after a moment of what felt like unbearable silence. “Yesterday, we were fine, right?”

You refused to answer his questions because you really didn’t want to rehash everything right then; how your suddenly guilty brain made you impulsively end things with him. You honestly wanted to just forget about everything. 

You shook your head as you sighed. “Let me drive you home, Steve.”

Your words were soft, probably too soft. You wanted to be mean to him, you wanted to push him away; you knew that it would make things easier. But, you couldn’t. 

“Can we walk?”

“Sure, but if you stumble and fall I'm not picking you up.”

He laughed a little as he nodded. “Understandable.” 

You shouldn’t be joking with him, you shouldn’t even be talking to him, but here you were. 

Things were quiet for a few moments, and you figured that maybe this ten-minute walk wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it would stay silent and you’d say an actual final goodbye to him once you were at his front door and then you two would never talk again; essentially a sort of repeat of what happened last year in English class.

“So, can I know what happened?” Steve asked, breaking the quiet and ruining what you had hoped would happen for the next ten minutes. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let this go until you either told him the truth about what was going on in your head or lied about it all. 

You let out a long breath; you couldn’t find it in you to lie to him in this moment. “I finally realized that we’re shitty people for doing this.” Steve didn’t say anything at first so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You love Nancy and I love Jamie and everything that we’ve been doing for the past month isn’t fair to them and it’s so fucked up. We’re selfish and terrible people, and I kinda hate that this ever started in the first place.”

Finally saying it all out loud made it feel a thousand times more real and certain to you. At least, most of it felt that way. You knew just how shitty all of this was, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever completely regret any of it happening. 

“You don’t love him, though,” Steve said. “At least that’s what you told me that one night.”

You were now learning that Steve Harrington was a good listener, and even with his current inebriation, his memory was still surprisingly good too. 

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how horrible I feel about all of this.”

You were talking, but all you could think about was the conversation that Steve was referring to. A post-sex conversation that you two had a few weeks ago as you and him were half-naked in the backseat of your car that was parked at Lovers Lake. 

It doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t know, maybe it never fully did. I just want to go back to how things were before. But, it feels impossible to tell him any of that. He really loves me, and even though I don't feel the same way anymore, I don’t want to hurt him or break his heart. He's still my best friend. I'll always love him like that. 

It was hard to remember what Steve said in response to that or if he even said anything at all. All you could remember was that the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to forget about it. You’d been way too honest, saying things that you had never admitted out loud before, but somehow you were admitting them to Steve.  

“You’re right,” He said to you now. “We are bad people for doing this.”

Things became quiet then because what else was there really to say? You both were in agreement. 

You two continued walking the short distance to his house. When he started going off course a bit too much, stepping on and off of people’s yards instead of staying on the sidewalk, you grabbed his hand to keep him close and steady. 

You didn’t drop it once you two were at his front door or even when he asked you to come inside. Against your better judgment, you silently let him lead you into his house. You toed off your shoes at the door like you always did and then followed him up the stairs. You told yourself that you were just making sure he made it into bed alright.

“You okay?” You asked once you two were in his room. 

You were just wondering if he was feeling dizzy or needed to throw up, but Steve took your question in an entirely different way. 

He shook his head. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Okay, I’m gonna miss you.”

“I…” You let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

You wished that he would kick you out, or even yell at you. If he was mean to you, it’d make it easier to leave his house, to leave him. Deep down you knew that he would never do that, though.

“Why can’t we just…” He trailed off for a second, and you were certain that he forgot where he was going with his words, but then he continued. “Do this?”

“Do what?” You asked, even though you had a feeling what he meant but you hoped you were wrong. 

“Be together for real,” He said, and in an entirely different world it would’ve made you happy hearing that, but in this world his statement only made things feel so much more complicated. “We won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop lying.”

For the briefest second, you imagined saying yes and agreeing with him, and for that quick second, the thought actually sounded really nice. 

“Or we won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop everything,” You told him instead of being honest and admitting that you liked him a lot more than you had ever led on, and that even though you had wanted this to mean nothing, you had also really enjoyed the nights where you two talked for hours upon hours about anything. 

“Okay,” He said, no longer debating your words and simply accepting them for what they were.

You nodded and then the simple word fell from your lips too. “Okay.”

That was definitely your cue to leave, but you didn’t say any kind of “goodbye” and neither did Steve. It was obvious that things were different, but they didn’t entirely feel that way just yet, so that made you stay. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked softly after a few moments of just watching him move about his bedroom, pulling off the jacket he was wearing and hanging it on the back of his door. 

Steve shook his head, meeting your eyes again. “No, I’ll always want you to stay.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a simple nod as a way to say “Okay.” You knew that this entire interaction was sending nothing but mixed signals, but your mind was a mess of contradictions and only felt confused, and you just really didn’t want to think too much anymore. 

It was warm in his room, so you pulled off your hoodie, leaving you in just your t-shirt and shorts, and you hung it up where his jacket was on his door. Silently, you joined him at his bed, settling yourself and laying down in the spot that you’d been in more times than you could count at this point.  

“I’m sorry,” You whispered in the darkness after a while. “That things can’t be different.” 

Steve moved closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist. “They could be.”

“I know,” You finally admitted, leaning into his touch. “But, it’s just too hard.”

He didn’t ask you to elaborate on what you meant, probably because he understood or he was just tired of this constant back and forth. 

You told yourself that you’d only stay for five minutes. And when five minutes turned to ten, you told yourself that you at least wouldn’t fall asleep. 

But, of course, you did. You felt too comfortable and at ease in Steve’s arms not to.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

part two!

let me know ur thoughts<333

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I knew it was love, when I rode home crying⋆˚࿔

WARNINGS: angst. canon-typical violence. mentions of injuries and bleeding. references to physical abuse. john winchester's A+ parenting. blink-and-you-miss-it mention of cunnilingus. fluff (I promise). dean winchester is bad at feelings but he is trying his best, okay? 4.9k

You usually love rainy days.

Yes, they can be hellish in the summer because of the humidity. But it’s early November, and the rain is cold and the sky is gloomy—and you’ve never felt more understood by nature.

With your heart as heavy as the charged clouds and your brain as foggy as the woods, you walk into the usual corner store to buy supplies for the night. It rained all night, and even if you’ve been granted a break for now, a storm is expected that evening, and there’s talk of a blizzard. You have enough to survive for a few days, but better safe than sorry.

You have no idea how much time has passed since you last saw Dean. You know you ended up skipping graduation, and the summer went by. Your birthday passed, and the leaves have started to change color. But has it been weeks? No, it has to be months. Still, you’re pretty sure it’s been less than a year, right?

When you spend every day locked in your room or the bookstore, time warps. Even at your job, sorting and shelving books in the library, you still feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare that just won’t end.

You try your best, you really do—getting out of bed in the mornings, forcing yourself to swallow food, attempting conversation with the librarian or Bobby when you run into him—but an imminent sense of doom clings to your bones like a child clings to their mother’s arms.

At least, you assume. You’d never felt your mother’s touch unless it was to drag her away before she drowned in a pool of her own vomit.

You look down at your basket—three packs of cigarettes, a single tangerine, two packs of instant hot chocolate, and a lonely box of mac 'n' cheese.

What a sad fucking sight.

You decide to at least add a carton of eggs and some milk, just so the cashier won’t stare at you like you’re headed for the stake. So you turn around, the same old headphones placed firmly on your head—and then you stumble into someone’s chest.

You startle, blinking slowly at the purple shirt staring back at you. You tilt your head up and catch sight of a dog stamp on the shirt. You tilt your head further and still only meet the guy’s Adam’s apple.

Finally, you tilt your head almost all the way up, headphones falling down to your neck, and find a familiar pair of hazel puppy eyes blinking down at you with the exact same stupor.

Dean hadn’t lied about the freaky growth spurt, then.

Sam Winchester—the boy on whose head you could once rest your elbow—now towers over you. He’s grown out of his childhood round cheeks and lanky arms, but then he smiles—dimples showing and bangs still falling over his eyes—and he turns back into that kid you once bought marshmallow nachos for.

He murmurs your name so sweetly you could cry. “It’s been so long!”

Yeah, it has.

“Sam,” you whisper, voice rough with nostalgia. For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile parts your lips. You can’t help the way you immediately take a step forward, your body acting without your permission. You wrap your arms around Sam’s middle, hugging him close.

For all his hugeness, he seems to shrink in your hold. He stays still for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do, but then he clumsily wraps his arms around your shoulders and seems to deflate.

That same instinct that flared inside you that first night at the drive-in—that same softness that breaks through your rotten flesh and spills out at the sight of this way-too-gentle, way-too-like-you boy—runs you over like a truck. “It’s so nice to see you, Sam.”

It isn’t until after you pay for your things—eggs and milk forgotten as Sam talks about school and how he has been thinking of college—that you realize that if Sam is here, his brother must not be too far away. Still, Sam is very careful not to mention him, which only makes the sudden uneasiness spreading through you worse.

You had thought about seeing Dean again. Daydreamed about him calling, offering an explanation. You dreamed of him coming back, of him having a good enough excuse. You also knew it was unrealistic, and that if Dean ever showed back up, it would be just like last time. No apology, no reason, just him expecting you to take him back.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to say no.

But now, faced with the imminent probability of crossing paths with him one more time, you can’t feel anything. You feel numb, cold, like you’re under freezing water.

Sam and you walk out of the store, and you look up at him just in time to catch the slight hint of panic that crosses his face as he looks behind you.

“Uhm—” His voice is high-pitched, strange even for a teenage boy. “You want me to walk you home?” He nervously points behind himself, away from whatever he is trying to hide from you.

Dread washes all over you, thick and heavy, but you still turn around.

Dean looks just like he did the last time you saw him, including the teasing smirk on his lips. He is leaning back on the Impala, cigarette between his teeth, eyes sparkling with mischief. But this time, he is not looking at you.

There’s a girl in front of him, you think you recognize her from the cheer team—she graduated a year before you, just like Dean. She is giggling, hand on his arm, blonde hair in the same ponytail she wore back then, only missing the bow in the school’s colors. They look like they know each other, and she is probably asking about his sudden disappearance from school all those moons ago.

Sam says something, but it’s as if you're suddenly being pulled out of the icy lake you had been submerged in. Static in your ears, desperate attempts to breathe through the water in your lungs, panic cursing through you.

Not panic, you realize. It is pure fucking rage.

Dean looks away from the girl, but before his eyes meet yours, you’re turning around and walking away.

Always flight, never fight.

Sam says something else, but you ignore him. You can’t do this, not right now.

The cold air hits your face, and the rain puddles splash with the heavy stomps of your boots. Somewhere in the sky, a storm brews. Thunder roars, but you barely hear it over the roaring of your blood burning.

A hand wraps around your arm, familiar and warm, but this time you smack it away.

Dean looks like a kicked puppy when you turn around to face him, but you don’t let the sight soften you up. He makes another attempt at stepping closer, and you recoil so hard that he flinches like he has just been shot.

He whispers your name, and your breath hitches. You don’t know if it’s anger or desire or longing or hatred, but you ignore it as you clench your jaw and stay silent. Clear drops slide down his face, and for a moment you think he’s crying. But then you look up and find that it has started raining again.

“Look—I know, okay? I know.” His voice is broken, lacking the confidence it always carries. He looks pathetic, almost. Hair stuck to his forehead from the water that slowly drenches the two of you, his shoulder hunched, his smirk gone. “I—I can explain.”

But he doesn’t sound very convinced, and his eyes hold a darkness you hadn’t seen in him yet.

Your hands tremble, and you know that your copy of The Metamorphosis must be getting soaked where it rests in the back pocket of your jeans, but you stay.

“Then do, Dean.” You fight to keep the begging out of your tone because you won’t beg for an explanation. Still, you will welcome it if it comes. “And you better do it right.”

Dean’s lips part, and he looks like he could drop to his knees and thank every god out there. Slowly, you start to soften up. Because it’s Dean, and you had never considered yourself tough, not for him.

But then his phone rings, and as soon as his eyes meet the contact name, all emotion drains from his face. Once again, you witness Dean Winchester go from the boy you grew up admiring to the well-trained soldier you had only seen a few times.

He picks up the call, and bitterness flows through your veins like venom.

“Dad.” He doesn’t look at you, eyes focused on his own biker boots. “Right now? But—yes, sir. Okay, I will. B—” His father hangs up before Dean can even say goodbye.

You wait for a few seconds, bangs sticking to the sides of your face and mascara about to start running from the increasing rain. Dean doesn’t meet your eyes, and you still wait for that explanation, even if deep inside of you, you know it won’t come.

“I gotta go.”

Your laugh cuts through the air like the thunder in the sky. Even Dean looks surprised by it, the sound poisonous and griefful.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” It’s a kind of anger you have never exteriorized, the kind that you always swallow down and suppress, the kind that you carefully keep out of your words and actions, the one that only comes out when you are alone in your room.

You turn around, ready to leave again. Because you’re tired, and hurt, and furious. Because you can’t look at Dean for one more second without breaking down. Because right now, you can’t find it in yourself to be empathetic, to be understanding, to mutter a small “I get it” and keep waiting.

Right now, all you know is that this boy stole your soul and body, buried himself so deep inside of you that you won’t ever be able to erase his mark, and you still are not worth prioritizing.

The story of your life.

So you start walking home, trying to hold yourself together for just a little longer. Dean yells your name, but you don’t stop. There are quick steps behind you, and his hand wraps around your arm once again.

Your fist hits his face with a dull thud, his teeth scraping the skin. You’re pretty sure it hurts you more than it does him—your knuckles throbbing and bloody, while Dean barely twists his face.

It is the first time you throw a punch.

Another first taken by him.

You don’t stop to watch Dean’s reaction, you don’t give him a second glance, you simply run home and crawl into your bed.

Once again, you are left bleeding, crying, and heartbroken.

You are cleaning Marigold of any new cobwebs when you hear knocking at your door.

It is late at night, and you’re listening to music on your mom’s old radio. Your Walkman—already old and barely functional before today—had been completely ruined by the pouring rain. You cry over it, but you know it’s not about the cassette player at all.

You had always been aware of the fact that Dean had been with other girls, but you had never witnessed it. Now, the image of him giving that blonde the same smile he gave you that night is engraved in your brain.

Knock knock.

You pause, trying to figure out if you heard right. And there it is, once again.

You quickly move to grab your pistol from your bedside table, thinking about grabbing the silver dagger too.

“It’s just in case you need to defend yourself.”

Out of pure spite, you leave it under your bed where you pretend it’s discarded instead of carefully placed. You keep your steps light and quiet as you make your way to the front door, just like you do when you forage through the woods.

The click of the safety being switched off echoes through the hallway, and you carefully lean in to look through the peephole as you place your finger over the trigger of the pistol. Outside, a shadow stands tall and too dark to make out. You’re about to retreat and hide in your room when a voice filters through the wooden door.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re mad—but please open the door.”

It’s only the edge of pain in his voice that makes you follow his request.

You had seen Dean bleeding before—that day he came back to Bobby’s hurt, and occasionally when he got in a fight in school—but never like this.

His eyebrow is dripping with an unstoppable crimson river, forcing him to close his right eye. His leather jacket is gone, even though it’s still raining outside and the temperature is dropping steadily, and there’s a slowly expanding stain of blood spreading across his shirt. There’s a long gash running down his arm, his lip is busted, and he holds his side like something’s broken.

“Look, I know you don’t wanna see me right now—”

He doesn’t get to finish, because you drop the pistol to the floor and grab his uninjured arm, pulling him inside the house. His teeth are chattering, and you’re sure he’s one minute away from pneumonia.

Without saying a word, you drag him to the living room and make him sit on one of the couches, careful not to let him touch the one your mother died in. You wrap a blanket around his shoulders firmly, not caring if it gets stained with blood.

“What happened?” you ask urgently as Dean sets down a duffel bag you hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Dean, what the fuck happened?”

Your voice resonates around the silent house, and it’s the first time in your life you demand something. The first order you’ve ever given, the first time your voice doesn’t hesitate. Because Dean is hurt, and your anger would never surpass how much you—care about him.

“A hunt went wrong.” It’s the only explanation you get, mumbled and low. But his shirt is slowly soaking through with blood, and you don’t have time for this.

“A hunt? You went hunting?” In all the time you’ve known Dean, he had never spoken about hunting. Maybe he knew better than to admit he enjoyed killing deer and bunnies in front of you, since you always made a point about the difference between foraging for the bones of already deceased animals and killing them.

Dean’s teeth stop chattering, so you pull the blanket away and yank his shirt off, trying to assess the damage. He winces when you move his slashed arm, but you’re too busy staring at the hole on his shoulder to notice.

“I got shot.” Dean’s voice feels distant, almost like it’s coming from another realm. You pull yourself back to reality when you see more blood gushing from the wound.

“You got—” Your eyes scan his body frantically: the scratch on his arm, the wounds on his face, the purple bruise blooming over his ribs. He didn’t just get shot. “What the fuck.”

You’ve patched up torn knuckles and scraped knees before, a few accidental cuts from your knife while practicing—some not so accidental—but never scratches the size of your forearm or bullet wounds.

More blood dribbles down, and you spring into action. You run to the bathroom where you always keep a first aid kit, recalling everything you know about bullet wounds from books and movies.

Back by Dean’s side in seconds, you kneel on the rug next to the couch and set the kit beside you. His face is growing paler. A sharp, sudden pain grips you—like a heart attack. But it’s just fear, you realize.

Don’t leave me.

“I—It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, though your hands tremble. Blood doesn’t scare you, you’re all too familiar with it. It’s the thought of Dean bleeding out that makes you nauseous. “I—I’m gonna clean the wound. You’ll be okay.”

You grab the sterile saline solution from the kit, tearing the cap off with your teeth. Straightening up, you take a deep breath and study the wound. It’s stopped bleeding, and you force your hands to steady—one wrapping around his bicep, the other holding the neck of the bottle close to torn skin.

“This’ll sting,” you warn.

Dean laughs.

It throws you off, and for a moment, the panic inside you twists into confusion.

“I’ve been through worse, sweetheart.” You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I’ve been here before. You don’t have to be gentle. Just get it over with.”

Yeah, salesman’s kid, your ass.

But it’s not time to argue, so your eyes return to his shoulder and you tilt the bottle forward. Dean hisses as the cold liquid floods the open wound, and a sick part of you feels a little satisfaction. Yeah, he deserves a little pain after everything.

You repeat the process on the exit wound, carefully washing away any debris. When Dean notices you’re hesitating, he instructs you to clean around the wound with some wipes, his voice strained but steady. You follow his orders carefully.

You’re gentle as you apply antiseptic to the edges of the skin, slowly growing more confident. Dean stays conscious, the bleeding stops, and you start to accept that he’s not going to die.

Your voice trembles when you reluctantly ask if he needs you to suture the wound, but he just laughs again and shakes his head, almost calling you adorable before biting back the words. Something else inside you aches then, but it’s different—burning, almost—like your whole body is on fire.

You follow his instructions for bandaging the wound, and it’s only when your palms press firmly against his chest that you actually realize he’s shirtless. You’ve seen Dean shirtless before, but always in the dim light and tight space of a car. Now, under the bright glow of the ceiling lamp, you can actually see.

Scars cover him—on his sides, along his collarbone, in the small of his back, over his heart. Big ones, tiny ones. Some pale and faded, others thick and angry-red. One definitely looks like a bite, another like—wolf claws?

What the fuck, actually.

It isn’t until you’re done bandaging the scratch on his arm and moving to his face that you speak again. It’s been complete silence until now—Dean’s eyes glued to the fireplace, yours fixed on his ragged skin.

“Dean, what—” You look down at him as you clean the cut on his eyebrow, and at least this is familiar territory. Your other hand cups his jaw, your brain so scrambled you can’t even figure out what to ask first.

“I’ll explain,” he interrupts, finally looking up at you. He looks bare, raw, vulnerable. You swallow the urge to reassure him, to comfort him, because your heart is still too broken. “But you have to listen to me, okay? You have to trust me.”

The words stab at your heart because you had trusted him. You trusted Dean with everything you had—you’d served your heart and body on a silver platter for him, given him every bit of you that mattered, trusted him to take care of it.

“I trusted you more than I trust anyone in this world, Dean,” you whisper, looking down as you finish cleaning the wounds on his face. “Even if you’ve proven I shouldn’t have.” You clench your jaw, trying to keep your voice steady. “You haven’t even fucking apologized, so how can you ask me to trust you?”

Now it’s him who looks stabbed. His fists clench, his eyes flick back to the flames as you retreat to grab some bandages. There’s a long silence, the kind only found at funerals, and you’re scared this might become one.

“Maybe you’re right.”

You force yourself not to cry as you dig through the first aid kit. Maybe you’re right, yeah. Maybe it is time to bury this along with all your other “could’ve been’s.”

“I’m out of butterfly bandages.” Your voice shakes, and you can almost hear Marigold scolding you.

“Why are you still patching him up?! Throw him out the door, girl.”

“I have some in my bag.” You nod and quietly kneel next to Dean’s duffel. You unzip it, and the first thing you see is blue.

The forget-me-nots fill the air with a sweet scent, contrasting with the smell of tragedy and decay that usually occupies it. It’s a bouquet, way bigger than the one you left on the Impala, and definitely store-bought. The flowers are a little wilted and bruised, a few petals falling to the floor, but they still make you melt.

Beneath the blossoms, there’s something else. A white box, also a little battered, with big, thick letters on top: Discman.

“Oh.” Comes from behind you, but your eyes stay fixed on the objects in your hands. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, but I meant to give you those earlier.”

You’re frozen in place, barely hearing the defeated words over the arguing voices in your head. Part of you—the beast in your chest, the one awakened by that first gunshot when you were ten, the one insatiably hungry ever since—feels boneless because of the gifts, and wants to crawl back to Dean and offer itself as a sacrifice to the gods of his pain.

The other part—the one that had to accept that your mother didn’t love you, the one that fought every day to stay alive, the one that had to glue you back together twice because of Dean—wants to throw the flowers in the fire and throw him out into the freezing rain.

“I know your Walkman’s been slowly dying forever, and I thought you’d like to modernize a little. They were supposed to—” His pain-soaked laughter rumbles through the room. “They were supposed to be apology gifts, I guess.”

The flowers and cardboard box hit the rug with a quiet thump, and you’re up and walking before you can even think about what you’re doing. Dean looks ready to take another punch, and his gasp is loud and desperate when, instead, your lips smash against his.

Like a lamb naively approaching a butcher, you climb onto his lap.

You cup his jaw, licking over his lips and tasting the blood still on them. Dean hisses at the contact, but you relish the metallic taste. It awakens something in you—a hunger so primal and instinctual it goes beyond the physical.

It’s spiritual, carnal, all at once. Religious.

You lean back, and Dean chases your lips. You tug harshly on his hair, and he whines.

“You will explain everything.” Your voice is just as low as always—spectral, ethereal—but now there’s a power behind it that hadn’t been there before. It has Dean looking up at you with hazy eyes, nodding dumbly. “No more lying. I want the truth.”

You lean in again, trapping his chapped lips in a slow kiss, biting the soft flesh almost hard enough to break.

“And then,” you whisper, “I’m gonna eat you.”

“I’m scared you mean that literally,” he says, but his voice is breathless, and his hands have already found their place at your waist.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

“My dad’s a monster hunter.”

Out of everything you had expected—drug dealer, exotic animal trafficker, maybe even some kind of paramilitary nut—that is the last thing you could’ve imagined.

Dean goes on to explain the gist of it: living on the road, working cases, the research, the fighting, the aftermath.

Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.

There’s a long stretch of stillness after he finishes, only the crackling of the fire and the ticking clock breaking the silence. Dean looks ready to bolt, like he’s expecting you to call him insane and throw him out.

Instead, your gaze drifts to the living room window, where snow has started piling on the outer sill. You sit with it—let your thoughts spiral and try to piece it all together.

The brothers’ training. The sudden disappearances. The markings in Dean’s bed. The silver dagger. Bobby’s obsession with the mythology section at the library. Dean refusing to touch a Ouija board that one time you begged him to. The night you heard something strange when you were alone at Bobby’s, and Dean reached for the salt, not a knife.

“So… ghosts?” you ask, looking up at him—and catch the way his face lights up when he’s met not with anger or disbelief, but curiosity.

“Spirits. Werewolves. Demons. Shapeshifters. Witches.” He shrugs. “Most things you can imagine? There’s probably a hunter that’s killed one.”

You blink once. Then twice. Then again.

And again, there’s that battle in your head. Believe or not believe. You’ve never been one to fear the supernatural—fear the living, not the dead kind of thing—but Dean wouldn’t lie about something like this.

Sure, maybe he’s broken your heart more than once.

But he’s also the boy who saw you when no one else did. The boy who listened to you ramble about your favorite books, even when it bored him out of his mind. The boy who broke a guy’s nose for grabbing you in the hallway. The boy who listened, really listened, when you talked about your deepest fears—And offered small, aching pieces of himself in return.

“What happened today?”

Dean sighs, shoulders hunching where he sits in the same spot on the couch—now in dry, clean clothes from his bag, sipping the hot chocolate you bought earlier that day. You curl up next to him, trying to process everything without getting distracted by the firelight making his eyes shine like gemstones.

“Skinwalker.” 

Right, of course. Skinwalker.

“Dad was handling it alone, but the pack was bigger than expected, so he called,” he continues, oblivious to the slow crashing of your brain. “One of the mutts scratched me, I got thrown around a bit.” The casual tone in his voice might be more confusing than the words themselves.

“There was one left. I should’ve seen it.” His voice is bitter, angry. “But I didn’t, and the son of a bitch jumped me—almost bit me. Dad shot it, but he accidentally got me too.”

Your eyes widen. That last part is somehow worse than the idea of monsters roaming the world. For a second, you think maybe Dean’s finally had enough, that he’s angry at his dad. But then you see the way his nails dig into his palm, how he won’t meet your gaze.

He’s angry at himself.

“I should’ve seen it,” he repeats, and your throat tightens like it’s swallowing broken glass. “Dad was mad, of course. He…” Dean pauses, debating what to say. “Dropped me off at Bobby’s and left, but he wasn’t home.”

But the way his hand unconsciously travels to his lip, fingers just grazing the busted skin, tells you what he didn’t say. That injury didn’t come from the skinwalker—and suddenly, you start to wonder how many of Dean’s bruises came from monsters, and how many came from his dad.

“So you came here.”

It’s the first thing you’ve said since Dean started explaining the whole mess, and he finally turns to face you.

“I fucked up, I know I fucked up,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “But—” he whispers your name like a prayer, “—you have to know that leaving you that night was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Dad had gone off on a solo hunt, Sam was alone in some cabin, and he was freaking out because Dad wasn’t answering his phone and I’m not supposed to tell people about hunting and—”

You stop his rambling with a kiss. It’s gentle, tender, soft in ways you didn’t know you were capable of. And Dean melts. He leans into your warmth like he’s been freezing for years—like a soldier finally returning to a home he thought he’d never see again.

God. The Winchester boys might be even more deprived of gentleness than you.

Slowly, the two of you rise from the couch.

Dean glances out the window, at the moonlight glinting blue across the snow, then back to you—standing beneath the orange glow of the fireplace, bouquet of delicate forget-me-nots in hand—and he makes a decision.

The two of you crawl into your bed, hand in hand, bodies intertwining like two pieces of the same thing that had finally found each other. You tell him about your mother’s death; he tells you about his. He talks about taking care of Sam while their dad was off on hunts, about stealing food from corner stores, about the first time he fired a gun. You tell him about scrubbing vomit out of the carpet, about climbing onto the roof to escape the reek of stale vodka, about how you used to shoplift books.

It’s easier than you expected, to open up to Dean. You think it’s because you are the same in so many ways. Because the pain in him recognizes the pain in you. Because he’s just as rotten as you are. Because the rough touch of his calloused skin feels like heaven when it presses down on your tender flesh.

Because now, when he opens you up slowly, it doesn’t hurt. Because when he buries his face between your thighs and eats like a man starving, you scream for him and wish he’d crawl inside you and stay there. Because when you finally collapse—limp, slick, wrecked—he wraps himself around you and holds you through the snowy night.

Because when you wake up the next morning, Dean is still there.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

NOTES: i'm backkkk, this time with the second-to-last part of this lovely series. i know not everyone believes that john ever physically hurt the boys, but i was watching spn the other day, and when a sheriff mentioned that a missing kid was known to be beaten by his father, dean flinched so hard that i felt sick—so i had to include it.

I seriously cannot stop marveling at all the love you have given me and my art. it fills my soul with so much warmth. It breaks my heart to think that the next part is the last one, but i'm also so excited for my angels to be happy! (or will they?) anyways,I love you all, hope you liked it!!!

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @losers-clvb @pieandflannel @anxiety-prime-max @southernimpala @ohmykwonsoonyoung @mimiimmii @thanosisadilf @iamaslytherin0 @youroldfashioned @luvrgirls @faeriexxmoon @iluvchr1s @beelzebzb @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @rxouxcesss @yup-its-dez @n0t-vzin1s @tendertulip @halleybagel @melancholysanatomy @dollyfetti @5oftkitty @cupidzbunny @arcanehastakenovermysoul @kermits-bitch @zenoxl @hollywoodxrose @bitchykittenconnoisseur @sherlockstrangewolf @urfav-tz @risefallrise @darling-loki-01 @dina-winchester @zyra-7<3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[lightsoutsunshine]

𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏

Sebastian/Farmer | Established Sam/Farmer | Hints of Sam/Sebastian

word count: 3k

summary: Sam’s got a kink, a wonderful girlfriend, and a best friend who are willing to help him realize his fantasy of being cucked. repost from my old blog

WARNINGS: MDNI, afab!farmer, consensual cuckolding, filming, dom/sub dynamics, use of “daddy”, “slut”, “whore” and “cuck”, m!receiving oral, squirting, creampie, f!receiving oral, cumeating, exhibitionism, degradation/humiliation, denial, choking/gagging, sam/seb content, three bisexuals enjoying sex in a living room, sdv has something like snapchat okay?, barely proofread

read on ao3

You don’t think he’s serious the first time it’s brought up. Mostly because Sam had brought it up after hanging out with his best friend, and casually teased that it looked like you wanted to fuck Sebastian. A joke you’d heard before and had even shot back at your boyfriend on a few occasions- it was funny, that’s why you didn’t believe it to be anything more than a joke. 

So you’re surprised when Sam brings it up again the next morning. He’d cooked you a lovely breakfast, coffee made just right and toast not burnt, which wasn’t necessarily suspicious but made much more sense when he asked a question you weren’t expecting. 

“You know what cuckolding is?”

You did, but you had no clue where this conversation was going to go should you confirm. So you look up at your increasingly nervous boyfriend, hands submerged in the sink as you continue to wash the plate in your hand, mumbling a soft “yeah” as he nods down at you. 

“Do you have any thoughts on it?”

“No, but I’m starting to get the vibe that you do.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, a wet hand moving to the back of his neck in a nervous habit. “I- uh, I do. Wanted to ask how you felt about having sex with Seb so you could make me your cuck.”

The plate falls from your hands, sinking to the bottom of the porcelain with a soft thud as you just stare at him. Fuck his best friend in front of him, set the scene for Sam to get willingly cuckolded and fulfill a fantasy of his? A fantasy you didn’t know he had, and you’d been dating for a couple years. This was a lot for seven in the morning. 

“We so totally don’t have to, I haven’t asked Seb anything, since I wanted to talk to you first and if you weren’t okay, then-“

“Sam relax!” You chide gently, drying your hands as he takes over washing your plate. “Please, babe, calm down.”

“You think I’m a freak.”

“Always have, baby, but I love it.” The assurance has him looking less nervous, but you can tell he needs a bit more reassurance. “I’ll fuck Seb if he’s down. But we gotta talk about boundaries and stuff too.”

“I’d personally want to see him absolutely wreck you, baby. Like, whatever he wants as long as you’ll allow it.” 

You didn’t mean now, but you supposed any time was a good time to have this kind of conversation since Sam had opened the door, brought you inside, and you locked it behind you both when you had agreed to the idea.

Which leads you to Sebastian. You needed to talk to Robin about a home renovation anyway, then popped downstairs to where Sebastian was hard at work. Or deep into a game. His focus face was the same either way so it was difficult to tell but based on the time of day, you’d assume it was work. 

“Hey, Seb?”

“Hey, give me a second and I’ll be able to give you my full attention.”

It’s a standard Sebastian greeting, one that has you sitting down in the other chair at his desk and enjoying the time off your feet. He’s humming as he types away, and you look up at the ceiling while planning the rest of your afternoon before your dinner date with Sam. You’d need to stop by Pierre’s and check the crab pots in the river on your way home, probably some extra time in the barn with the goats before taking a shower. 

“Alright, what’s up?”

“We need to talk about Sam,” you start, looking at Sebastian as he looks at you. “He’s got this fantasy and I need your help.”

“He said you’d be by. Couple days later than I expected, though.” You’re going to let that slide, leaning back in the chair as he watches you. “But yeah I’m happy to help you cuck him. Did he tell you about the two thoughts?”

You nod; having been told that Sam would love to be surprised with a video in addition to the actual sitting and watching you fuck his best friend, meaning that you’d have sex with Sebastian twice. And while you’re not sure this won’t end on a weird note, you’re still open and excited for what was to come. Sebastian was very attractive, getting a pass to have sex with him was a gift you wouldn’t turn down even if the circumstances were unexpected. 

“We can get part one done now, if you’re not busy,” he offers, pushing his chair back a bit and putting his hand over the bulge in his pants. “Surprise your boyfriend with a cute video of you sucking my dick?”

You agree without hesitation, sliding from your seat while requesting that he not get any of his cum in your hair since you had other things to do that day.

“Gonna choke on it like you choke on Sam’s?”

“What don’t you two talk about?” you ask as you kneel in front of him, sighing when Sebastian tells you that there isn’t a single secret between the two men. The only thing Sebastian doesn’t know is if you have any kinks that aren’t some of Sam’s, but those are things that can be discussed later. Not when you’re working together to push his pants down to free his semi-erect dick and he’s reaching for his phone so he can record the event. 

“If it’s too much, tap my thigh or something, alright?” 

At the notification stating there was a message from Sebastian, Sam halts his cleaning around the house to see what it was. He’s giddy when he sees it’s a photo, quickly opening it to see what was there only to almost drop his phone when he sees his darling girlfriend with Sebastian's balls in her mouth, shaft resting on her face, with the caption: Sure she’s only yours?

But he needs more, and they come in small chunks that have him literally praying that there’s a full recording that he’ll get. The POV of his girlfriend taking another cock in her mouth and gagging around it, having her head held in place by Sebastian’s large hand until she was struggling to breathe and leaving a mess behind when she came up for air. Sebastian calling her a messy little slut before telling her to clean up her mess makes Sam harder than he anticipated, his hand going into his pants to try and relieve some of the ache as he waits for the next one to come in. The third comes in a couple minutes later, and he smiles when he sees her gently kissing the tip of Sebastian’s cock before slowly taking it into her mouth, while Sebastian requests that she suck him “like she sucked her little boyfriend”. No caption on that one, but that was more than okay. She looked so good with cock in her mouth, and he knows that she’ll look just as good when it’s his own cock as soon as she gets home. 

But then he has to wait for the next one - hoping there would be another one. Standing in the middle of the living room, cock in one hand, phone in the other as the broom rests forgotten against his chest. Edging himself is difficult when he could replay the videos he’d gotten, but if he’s going to get a cumshot video (Seb said he’d try) he’d want to cum to that. 

It’s much longer than he’d like, but when he does receive the video he’s waiting for, it’s enough to have him spilling in his hand as he watches Sebastian cum in his girlfriend’s mouth with a hearty groan before he pulls out and tells her to show her boyfriend how good she is. And she does, opening her mouth to show off the cum sitting on her tongue before Sebastian sticks his thumb in her mouth and tells her to swallow, and the smile on her face when he pulls his thumb out and calls her a good girl. The caption? 

Make sure you give our girl a good kiss for me bro. 

And now Sam had to wash his hands and wipe his cum from the hardwood of the farmhouse. His lady farmer was very particular about her hardwood staying in top shape.

It’s only a couple weeks before part two comes to fruition, which took a fair amount of planning between you and Sebastian. More in depth discussion about hard limits, finding a free evening where there wasn’t a hangout or family dinner planned, and waiting for the emergency contraceptive to be delivered by mail. Once everything was in place, Sebastian came over for dinner. 

Sam must’ve known what was about to transpire after dinner, because he could barely sit still through the meal. You only sip your wine with a smile, looking at Sebastian as he looked at you. 

“I think we should watch a movie,” Sebastian states, and you nod with a smile as Sam deflates a little bit. “But I’ll help with dishes first.” 

“No, it’s all good. I’ll clean up, you two go get a movie started.” The instruction from Sam has you nodding, letting him top off your glass before he shoos you and Sebastian from the kitchen and towards the living room. A couple DVDs are pulled from the shelf and put on the coffee table, but neither you nor Sebastian put any effort into actually picking a movie. You wouldn’t be watching it anyway. And you think it might’ve been the wine, but there was something different about the way Sebastian was looking at you tonight. 

It’s only a few minutes before Sam is sitting beside you on the couch, curious why nothing was playing until Sebastian tells him that you were waiting for him to pick. And he does, pushing the disc into the player before he settles beside you with an arm around your shoulders. About five minutes into the movie you shift, leaning more into Sam but draping one of your legs across Sebastian’s lap. You’d worn a skirt with no panties to ensure easy access for him, and bit your lip when you felt his finger trail up your already wet slit to your clit.

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Sebastian murmurs, drawing Sam’s attention to where his friend’s hand was up your skirt. “Boyfriend right there and you’re dripping wet for me. Sammy not do it for you anymore?”

You can only grin, letting Sebastian pull you closer but push you back so you were laying on Sam’s lap. Your skirt is pushed up, giving a clear view of Sebastian’s hand moving as his fingers fuck your pussy, and you can feel Sam’s erection stir beneath your head as his hand pets your head. You can tell he wants to move, relocate to the armchair where he can get a clear view of what Sebastian was about to do to you, so you take a hold of his shirt as you look up at him.

“You’ll stay here.”

“But babe, I-”

“Cucks don’t get to cum, Sam.” Your tone is firm despite the smile on your face, and that has him nodding with a pink face as Sebastian pulls his hoodie and tshirt off. You take your shirt off as Sebastian gets out of his pants, and you bite your lip as he comes to stand before you. Your mouth opens as soon as he commands it, his hand pushing Sam’s away so he can hold you in one spot to fuck your face. 

“If I feel teeth, I’ll spank that cute little pussy ‘til you’re sobbing.” You hum your acknowledgement around his cock, aware that Sam has fished his phone out of his pocket to try and record. The way Sebastian is bent over the two of you might make that difficult, but your concern is the thick length punching against the back of your throat as his grip on your hair tightens. “She’s an obedient little whore, how come you haven’t tamed her yet Sammy? Aside from the obvious.”

Sam doesn’t have an answer, and Sebastian pauses with his hips pressed to your face and carefully tilts Sam’s head back by his chin so he’d look up at him. 

“If you’re a good little cuck, maybe you can suck my cock tonight, too.” And he’s pulling back, giving you a chance to breathe but tapping your cheek with his spit slick cock before he moves to settle between your legs. “But I can only handle one slut at a time, and she's my priority.”

“He’s used to coming in second,” you add, smiling when Sebastian leans in to kiss you as he pushes into your cunt. You’d had sex with Sam earlier in the day, so the stretch wasn’t as brutal as it could have been, but you know Sebastian is reveling in your discomfort at his size. He’d warned you that he could be mean, a bit masochistic, and here you were. 

“Oh, am I bigger than your little boyfriend? Stretching your pussy more than you’ve ever had to hurts?”

“You’ve seen it,” you remind, looking up at Sam as Sebastian starts moving. “You know you’re bigger, Seb.”

“Wanted to hear you say it, honey. Now I want you to shut up and look at your boyfriend as I make you cum with my big dick.”

And you do, looking up at Sam’s awestruck expression as Sebastian fucks you roughly. Your shoulders scrape against the denim of his jeans as you rub against his thigh with every thrust. You’ve seen this look of adoration before, never once thinking that he’d be able to look at you like that while he watches you take his best friend’s cock, but seeing this helps you feel better about how this would end. Definitely not weird considering how into this both he and Sebastian were. 

“Gonna cum already?” He asks, stopping when you nod. He fucks you harder, hand rubbing your clit furiously as you beg him for more. “Show your boyfriend how hard you cum for me.”

You know the men are just as surprised as you are when you squirt, wailing Sebastian’s name as you do while Sam lets out a “holy shit” and Sebastian just grins at you. That took a lot out of you, but that doesn’t bother Sebastian as he fucks you through it and continues to fuck into you. 

“Cute little whore pussy squirting for Daddy. You know who owns you and your pussy, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, hand gripping the back of the couch for some kind of stability as his thrusts increase in force. 

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours! It’s your pussy!” 

“Who am I, baby? Who owns this pussy?”

“You, Daddy!” There’s a slap to your pussy that has your eyes rolling back, Sebastian’s hands gripping your hips as he nears his own end. “Please cum in my pussy Daddy!”

“After I put a load in you, your little cuck can eat it out and thank me for giving you such a big load.” You nod at the suggestion, biting your lip as it started to become too much. He was close, the flush creeping up his chest as his rhythm started to get more sloppy. “Fuck, gonna cum. Get on the floor, cuck, you can have some of my cum too.”

Sam moves quicker than you’d expect, and your head drops to the couch just as Sebastian’s hips still against yours and you feel the familiar warmth that was ropes of cum shooting into your pussy. A wave of his hand has Sam scooting closer, and you watch with vested interest as Sam opens his mouth for Sebastian. He had to have sucked a dick before, and you’re going to ask about that later, since right now you’re enamored by how eagerly he takes Sebastian’s dick into his mouth to clean it off as Sebastian had instructed.

Then Sam is watching you as Sebastian pulls you to sit in his lap. His cum is starting to drip from your pussy, but one crooked finger from Sebastian has Sam closing in like a starved man. The soft frenzy of Sam’s tongue at your opening was such a nice contrast to the harsh smack of Sebastian’s skin against yours, you can’t help but push your hand into his hair to bring him closer to your cunt so you can push for more contact. Sebastian whispering in your ear that you were in charge eggs you on in the best way, and his fingers on your clit bring a soft moan out of you that has Sam humming into your pussy. 

“So good, Sam,” you mumble, leaning back against Sebastian as you continue to grind against the blonde’s face. You were close already, and you knew Sebastian could tell based on how he rubs your clit faster. “Fuck, s’good.”

“The cuck can make her cum, whaddya know?” Sebastian teases, moving his fingers from your clit when your body tenses in his arms and gently massaging your sides as Sam eats you through it. Sebastian kisses your cheek before he moves you to the space beside him, mumbling something about getting home before it gets too late that has you reaching for his arm to stop him from getting up. 

“You should stay,” you mumble to Sebastian, looking down at Sam who nods his agreement while wiping at his mouth. “We want you to stay.”

“Shower and snuggle, dude.” Sam adds, carefully standing from where he was knelt in front of the couch before offering his hand to Sebastian to bring him to his feet. “After what you just did with us, we can make you a good breakfast.”

“Shower and snuggle,” Sebastian echoes, offering his hand to you as Sam does and murmuring “up you go, sweetheart” as they pull you to your feet. You would all be sleeping really well tonight, and you’re happy that Sebastian agreed to stay. 

Having him around was always nice and maybe Daddy would come back to visit you and Sam.

[wendichester]

Hi! Can you do one showcasing all the ways the reader protects/watches out for Dean. He’s always the afterthought for everyone because they just expect him to lead and be strong. Your last response about his version of Heaven probably being bittersweet had me sad! So, reader putting her foot down for her man, please! Reminds him he’s hers and not a soldier, not expendable. When someone comes up with a plot that requires him to sacrifice, she speaks up for him tells them to F off

read the heaven bit first .ᐟ

so first off, let's clarify the core dynamic here: 𖤐 dean is everyone's weapon or leader, but never their priority. it's always let's save the world, instead of let's keep each other safe. 𖤐 everyone is just used to him sacrificing himself because that's his default setting. 𖤐 you ( aka reader ) flip the damn table and say not anymore. it's the prompt he's not a weapon, he's mine and i'm lowkey totally here for it.

‧₊˚✩彡 the pattern that needs breaking sam loves dean but tends to go along with dangerous plans, trusting dean will handle it. cas is always focused on the mission, kind of emotionally stunted, tends to expect dean to endure because he has. mary and john? ugh. never really saw him--as said previously--saw a soldier, not a son. jack is a whole celestial being born with a messiah complex. thinks sacrifice = love because that was what dean and the others always showed him too. they all value dean, but none of them really protect him. because they think they don't have to. but you do.

‧₊˚✩彡 moments where you put your foot down 𓂃⋆ you speak up against the plans where dean is bait or the one bargin in as the distraction. and god damn the moment you do? everyone's stunned into silence. dean most of all. because he doesn't expect anyone to stand up to him--to stop the mission for him. 𓂃⋆ they always assume dean will handle dangerous people. but not you. "no. he's not your buffer. try talking to your own damn shady contacts." maybe you even go instead of him once and everyone's like oh, okay. 𓂃⋆ dean tries to pull the "if i don't come back" speech. you cut him off. "don't you dare act like you're a ghost in front of me. you come back. you always come back." you don't romanticize his self-destruction like others do. you hate it. 𓂃⋆ cas suggests an angelic solution that risks dean's soul. like, maybe siphoning something through him or binding him to a sigil. "use anyone else. he's not your empty vessel." cas looks conflicted. you stand between him and dean and he's flabbergasted like she's actually challeging a damn angel. 𓂃⋆ mary mentions all the things dean's good at and it's all war-related. "you ever ask him what he actually wants to be good at?" it's awkward. it's uncomfortable. maybe even explosive. but it cracks open something for dean. he's never heard someone challenge his family on his behalf.

‧₊˚✩彡 the emotional undercurrent of this: dean doesn't think he's allowed to be safe. he doesn't even notice when people don't choose him because it's so normalized. you saying "you are not theirs. you are mine." is like pouring honey on a lifetime of bruises. it's not just protective--it's possessive, but in a way that restores his sense of self. you're saying you're not just worth fighting for. you're worth keeping safe. every damn time.

They’re talking about him like he isn’t standing right there.

Like he’s just a checklist item. Like his life is a resource—burnable, forgettable, expendable.

Dean’s got that mask on. The one he thinks is subtle—stone face, arms crossed, jaw ticking every few seconds like a time bomb. You can tell he’s already accepted the role. The “if it gets ugly, I’ll take the fall” card.

You’ve seen this play before.

You hated it the first time.

So when Sam starts laying out the plan—meticulously, logically, with words like “timed entry” and “distract the hellhounds long enough,” and then casually drops Dean’s name as bait, your hands curl into fists without thinking.

“Sorry, what?” Your voice cuts in like a blade.

They blink. You never interrupt these planning sessions. You’re the quiet one. The observer. The one with a hand on Dean’s back under the table while the world maps out how to use him.

Sam looks confused. “It’s just that he’s the best shot we have at getting the demon away from the door. You know Dean—he can take it.”

Take it.

Like he’s a wall. Like he’s a gun.

Not a man.

Dean shifts beside you. He’s about to say “It’s fine”—you can feel it in your bones—but you’re already standing.

“No. He’s not doing it.”

The room goes quiet.

Dean tilts his head, looking up at you like you just spoke Enochian. You never do this. But now? Now you’re fire in a gasoline world.

“I’m serious,” you continue. “You all act like he’s made of Kevlar and pure damn luck, but he’s tired. He’s bleeding from that werewolf hunt yesterday. And I don’t care how good of a shot he is or how much ground he can cover—he’s not being used as a sacrifice so you all can sleep at night.”

Sam looks like you slapped him.

Cas shifts like maybe he agrees but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say it.

And Dean… God, Dean looks like you just gave him breath after drowning.

You step closer to him. You don’t even care how dramatic it looks. Your fingers find the edge of his sleeve, tugging it like a lifeline.

“He is not your weapon. He is not your armor. He is mine.”

The words hit the floor like thunder. No one speaks.

You kneel slightly and tap his knee, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“You hear me, Dean?” you whisper, just for him now. “You’re not the one who has to go first. You’re not the shield anymore. Not when I’m here.”

He swallows hard. His eyes are glassy, like maybe no one’s ever said that before. Like maybe he forgot he was allowed to hear it.

You straighten back up and look at the room.

“Find another plan.”

And they do. They scramble. They rearrange. Because your tone is sharp and final and God help anyone who tries to touch him without your say-so.

Later, you’re patching him up on the edge of a dusty motel bed. He’s shirtless, bruised, quiet.

“You meant all that?” he asks, voice low.

You blink at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“I just… no one’s ever…” He trails off. Like it hurts to say it out loud. “It felt good. Hearing it. You fighting for me.”

You look at him—really look at him.

He’s so used to doing. Saving. Bleeding. Leading. Everyone thinks he’s bulletproof because he acts like he is. But you see the cracks. You kiss them. You love them.

“I’ll always fight for you,” you murmur, smoothing your fingers over the bruise on his side. “You’re not alone anymore, Dean. You don’t have to carry the weight. Not while I’m still breathing.”

He leans forward, cups your face like you’re the miracle. Kisses you slow. Deep. Desperate.

“Thank you,” he breathes against your lips.

You pull back just enough to whisper:

“Don’t thank me. Just promise you’ll let me protect you, too.”

His voice breaks a little when he says, “I will.”

And you know he means it. For once.