#cup head don’t deal with the devil

[multi-mess-au]

Cuphead sketch art -

“Cuphead’s world”

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the Supernatural

Basically some Marvel interactions with supernatural creatures. I think he would be really friendly with some and, you know, not as friendly to others.

Marvel: “Sorry, guys. I gotta head out early.”

Flash: “Dude, why? I wanna see a drunk Marvel!”

Aquaman: “Cap, what would it take for you to accept even one invitation for drink?”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Superman: “Cap, you know you can just tell us if you don’t want to go.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh- it’s not that. I already have plans, that’s why I can’t go. I have to see a friend of mine who’s visiting.”

Wonder Woman: “A friend?”

GL: “I thought we were your only friends.”

Marvel: “I have other friends.” *sounds slightly offended before brushing off the offense* “You guys might know her actually.”

Superman: “Is she a hero?”

Marvel: “Oh no. She’s Bigfoot.”

*loud silence*

GL: “What…?”

Marvel: “She’s Bigfoot, but she prefers when I call her Rhonda. She’s a very classy lady.” *nods head* “We get tea every time she’s in town.”

*another loud silence*

Aquaman: “Buddy…” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “If you really don’t want to hang out with us that badly, you can just tell us. You don’t have a make up an excuse like that.”

Marvel: *visibly tenses at being called a liar* “I’m not a liar guys.” *shrugs off hand and shoves own hand into pocket dimension and starts rummages, looking for something*

JL: *horrified for a solid three seconds when they see half of Marvel’s arm disappear*

Marvel: *pulls photo from pocket dimension* “Look!” *shows photo of him at a table that looks comically small compared to him, also holding a tea cup too small for an 8ft tall man. Also shows Bigfoot in a very elegant sundress also sitting at the table, also making it look comically small while also holding a teacup that also looks too small for it*

*loudest silence*

GL: “Why are you casually just friends with Bigfoot? How do you just fail to mention things like this??”

or

Batman: “Marvel, why did you put in a notice for leave?”

Marvel: “I thought I put sick leave?”

Batman: “No… You just sent in an email that said, “I’ll be gone for a week” and that’s it.”

Marvel: “Oh. My bad. Well, I’m gonna be gone for a week cause I’m going Wendigo hunting with a couple buddies of mine.”

Batman: “Wendigo. Like the evil, man eating spirit.” *raises brow as if it’s noticeable from under his cowl*

Marvel: “Yeah! It’s kinda like big game hunting, but for people with magic. Plus, they’re kinda starting to become a problem up North. Wanna come?”

Batman: “I don’t have magic.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “You’re Batman. You could probably figure out a way. But even then, we’d be happy to have you.”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

or

Flash: “Dude, you’re sulking. You never sulk! Something’s wrong.”

Marvel: “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m mad at Satan.”

Flash: “Me too, bro me too.” *pats shoulder* “What’d the devil do to you?”

Marvel: “He cheated at poker!”

Flash: “You gamble— I see. So you’re down on your luck at casinos.”

Marvel: “No, like literally! He hid a card up his furry sleeve!”

Flash: *blinks rapidly trying to process that whole statement* “Oh. Uh- you could always disinvite him.”

Marvel: “I guess. But he’s my friend.”

Flash: “Why can you confidently say you’re friends with the devil?”

Marvel: *ignores his question* “What if that hurts our friendship?”

Flash: “Maybe try talking to him about it…?”

Marvel: “That’s actually… a pretty good idea! Thanks, Flash!” *hops up and speeds off to where Flash can assume is literal hell*

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”

[clumsybriar]

Ghost x Wife! Reader — My Pretty Girl

Ghost x wife! Reader

Masterlist

Notes: use of (y/n), reader is female, ghost really adores his wife, fluff.

Word count: 6,858

Warnings: some swearing and bullying.

———————————————————————————

Simon stopped in the doorway watching his wife get ready. He was awestruck by her always. She was curvy, and pretty, and her personality sold it all.

She was in his words ‘a sensitive bugger’, to which she would disagree and tell him she was in tune with her emotions and then giggle. She was so sweet and patient and was willing to try and be everyone’s friend even if she was an introvert. The deal was, they had to talk to her first.

“Pretty girl.” He uttered coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. She had her make up all done and it was natural looking. The way she liked it. Her hair was straightened and she was just trying to get dressed until Simon interrupted her.

“Si!” She whined cutely as she only had one leg in her shorts and her other one was lifted as she was trying to stick her foot in the hole. Simon had snatched it up trapping her in place.

“Don’t whine, dovie.” He smiled as he balanced her. “I love you with all my heart, I’m just showin’ it.” His deep Manchester accent boomed within the four walls surrounding them.

His words were not an understatement either. He adored her entirely, worshiped the ground she walked on. He was a man who was well in love with his wife as he should be. She was gorgeous, even if she had stretch marks, or a bigger booty, or larger breasts. How ever it was, he loved her no matter what she looked like.

“Ah, pretty girl, not this outfit.” He smiled leaving a trail of kissed down her neck to her shoulder and continuing it down her arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked nervously as she looked up at Simon.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it, he loved it. Frankly he would have said that about any outfit she left the house with or were wearing around the house. Even if it was her tangled and messy bed head and a t-shirt and boxers of his. He would still slobber over it and have the same remark.

“I love it, you look so gorgeous in this outfit pretty girl.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Si-si,” she snorted. “You say that about anything I wear.”

“Can’t help it love.” He tapped her butt with his hands. “You look good in everything, and nothing at all.” He teased softly. His lips trailing down her neck again as his hands wondered her body.

“We can’t,” she out a half things frenzied attack which made up of lots of kisses and groping over her soft skin. “We said we would meet Mr. and Mrs. Price at 3:30 at the winery.” His hands still grabbed at her thighs as he tried to sneak a few subtle touches elsewhere. “And soap and a Gaz will be there with their…”

“Pay them no mind, pretty girl.” Simon hummed as he stood up straight. She was petit against him, as in he towered over her and she was just this dainty and tiny little hobbit compared to him.

“Yes lieutenant.” She giggled she was trying to fight off his large hand that gripped her in thigh still up in the air as she wanted to get dressed. He patted her butt one more time as he let her go and laid on the bed watching her as she got dressed.

“Ya’ wearin’ that devils peice of clothing?” Simon asked as he watched her turn around and change her bra. “Go no bra.” He whined slightly. It was so out of character for him to be so whiney like this, but with her he could express himself in any way. He was so comfortable with her.

“I’m wearing a bra.” She fastened the new one and made sure her breasts settled right in it. He rolled into his belly as he rested his head on his fist.

“No bra,” he grunted out.

“Yes bra!” She argued back smiling at him.

“Let me see.” He pawed at her butt. She had fasted her cargo wrap skort and turned around grabbing her crocheted black crop top that cupped around her breasts.

“Pretty lace lovie.” He referred to her bra looking the dark green and how it compared to her skin.

“Your such a tease.” She giggled.

“Can you blame me lovie.” He sat up watching her out on the crochet top. “Such a pretty girl.”

“You try to make my head big.” She hummed as she put on her sandles.

“Baby, your head ain’t ever gonna grow big enough.” He teased her some more as his hands rested on her hips. “Your a pretty girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone. “And you don’t realize it.”

“I’m not that pretty.” She said softly.

“Beg to differ.” He stood up kissing her cheek. “Dead pretty.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him softly. The two of them had been Mr. and Mrs. Riley for four years.

He met her a year prior to their marriage during a mission. She was a pretty little civilian working her ass off in a library while she tried to finish her art degree. He was a lieutenant in the SAS. And the building she was in, had a bomb located in the center.

Task force 141 had the responsibility to defuse the bomb and evacuate the building.

Ghost could remember it clear as day. He was rushing around giving orders to civilians while (y/n) was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if she should move because they could have been a threat to her safety, or if they thought she was the threat.

Needless to say, Gaz who was surprised by the lieutenants kindness in that moment with (y/n), knew he was a love sick puppy as soon as he set eyes on this little American woman.

Everytime Gaz retells the story, he always states something along the lines of ‘havin’ a hard time tellin’ who was the deer in headlights and who was the car about to run the deer over’. Soap would often talk about how everyone in the task force and who had been under Ghost’s command were jealous that she got all his soft and friendly words and they got ordered barked at them that day.

Needless to say, the universe, as cheesy as it was, had made sure their paths crossed so the two could be together.

Though everyone knew Ghost was in love when he gave her his mothers engagement ring as her own engagement ring. It was the last thing he had of his precious mother who had been tortured and killed by Roba. When they laid eyes on the gorgeous ring that had been worn by his mother many, many years ago, they knew he had found the woman he was going to settle down and come home to everyday, especially when his mother’s matching wedding band slipped on his wife’s finger during the wedding.

The wedding was truly something else, to (y/n) and Simon, it felt like a breath of fresh air finally being able to call one and another husband and wife even if they had been for months maybe even a year prior to wedding.

Simon could remember how ethereal (y/n) looked when she appeared from behind the doors. His breath had caught in his throat, and the tears had instantly welled up in his eyes. Soap had to pat his back as Simon—for the first time—had cried in front of many people.

The task force could have sworn it would have been (y/n) weeping heavily, but on that day it was Simon. And no one judged him for it, because she had for sure been the most beautiful bride, especially if you ask simon.

“Ready to go my dovie.” Simon hummed as he wore a white button down shirt and some slacks.

“Ready.” She grabbed his hand as she admired how his tattoos were on display. “You look charming.” She said softly as her eyes met his.

He could stare into those eyes for eternity.

“Mmm,” he leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you baby.” He kissed her again. “Not as good as you, pretty girl.”

“Stop that!” She giggled as she stuck close to him.

“Never.” He hummed. Ghost had always been so playful with her, letting her see is fun side where many others didn’t get to see that from him. He always made her feel special though that was one thing for sure.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at the winery as they walked to the building to see Maria and John price already sipping on wine.

“What’ya want baby?” Simon asked as his hand was gently placed on her lower back.

“A sweet cider.” She said quietly as she was shooed around larger crowds.

“Mmm, want a pear apple cider?” He asked as he started a tab.

“Yeah.” She hummed as they waited. Her hands remained on his arms as she traced his tattoos. The bartender sat their drinks on the counter as they walked out the back to meet up with Maria and John.

“Well, well, well,” John stood up and shook Simon’s hand. “How’s it goin’ Simon.” The older man asked.

“Better everyday.” Simon hummed, a simple answer to how it truly was. Fantastic everyday when he was with (y/n).

Maria cooed softly at (y/n) as she was a very motherly person in general. “Oh darlin’, yer’ youth is refreshing to m’soul.” She hummed giggling as her accent was very Irsish and thick. “A wee baby’s skin isn’t as soft as yer’ skin.” She pinched (y/n)’s cheek gently. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s cheeks to flare up in a rosy tint.

“Hi Maria.” (Y/n) greeted softly as she kissed the younger woman’s cheeks.

“Oh Simon, I imagine she’s keepin’ ya’ young as well with all her youth,” Maria teased the man. “We’re are ya’ two keepin’ the fountain of youth, Johnny and I could go for a dive.”

“Backyard.” Simon joked as he leaned down and hugged Maria as she kissed his cheeks as well as a greeting.

“Hi missy.” John hummed as he kissed your cheeks. “Keep him better behaved, he’s been causing me trouble at work.”

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) stifled a laughed as she looked up at Simon.

“Don’t you be givin’ my wife ammo.” Simon joked.

“I think your wife has plenty of ammo, me’lad.” Maria hummed. “Yer’ a soft husband, not like m’John who goes fishin’ and leave me with the screamin’ banshees.” She referred to her kids.

“Guilty as all be.” John smiled, sweet bliss for him.

They stood around and chatted as they waited for Gaz and Soap to appear. Of course (y/n) knew the two girls would be coming along as she tried to remember how to blend in so she wasn’t targeted.

“You’ll be targeted no matter what, m’girl.” Maria said softly. “Your a pretty lady, and them boys have known you for years ‘cause o’simon.” She hummed. “Pay’em no heed. If we need a break, you and I can always turn Hyde and walk in the vineyard.”

“Okay.” She said shyly. (Y/n) always felt like she dressed too kid-ish around them even if she was dressing more for her age, being 25. She sometimes believed she was too immature for Simon’s who was 32 and well prepared for life.

“Your so sweet, and so kind.” Simon whispered to her as he coddled her close to him. “So much sweetness, Dovie.”

(Y/n) flushed red and smiled up at Simon. She enjoyed his compliments but it often made her bashful.

“Ya’ look delightful, little one.” Maria smiled as she looked at your mature but youthful outfit. “Good thing Simon knows how to fight, these men would be all over ya’ if ya’ had that ring finger bare.” Maria hummed pointing at (y/n)’s ring finger smiling.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” She brushed it off sweetly.

“I wish for your sake I could agree with ya’ but Simon’s already gave five different men the stink eye.” John chuckled lightly.

“No one fucks with my baby.” Simon said seriously.

That made (y/n) giggle as she patted Simon’s chest.

“I hope we didn’t miss the party.” Soap hummed as he walked hand and hand with his girlfriend. (Y/n) froze up a bit as she curled more into Simon taking a larger sip of her hard cider.

“Slow down.” Simon cooed softly. “No need to rush unless you would like to hug the porcelain throne tonight.”

“Sorry.” She said softly as she looked down to make sure her cleavage wasn’t too much.

Soap and Gaz were around her age, and the two were young, and they had a habit of staring, not on purpose, but because sometimes, (y/n)’s cleavage was a bit more on show depending on the shirts she wore. And she had a god given right to flaunt it. That’s what Farrah, Alex’s wife always told her when they were visiting her cousin in America. She loved her cousin's wife, finding comfort and understanding in her.

Ghost had snapped at the two before for staring, but he also couldn’t blame them. It was a good sight to see in his eyes.

“Anne, Lilliana.” Maria greeted with a polite smile.

Both women looked so elegant and wore beautiful dresses that spoke Italian villa. (Y/n) felt so out of place wearing a skort and a crop top. Too Americanized among a group of Europeans. The sharks were out today and they were gonna get her. Those sharks were named Lilliana, and Anne.

She smiled nervously saying a soft hi.

“You look so…youthful.” Lilliana said as she leaned against Gaz. (Y/n) could tell it was a forced smile and a fake compliment. They thought she looked immature.

“She looks very lovely, doesn’t she?” Maria smiled as she swooped the girl up and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My eldest wants (y/n) to go to the boutique with her so (y/n) can help her shop for clothes.”

“Aye, the ladies can have a day out.” Soap hummed. “And us lads can go to the pub and watch footy.”

“Ya’.” Maria nodded, smiling gently. “We’ll have to plan something out.” She said softly.

Simon watched as his wife finished her cider as she looked at Anne and Lilliana’s outfits. He could see the swirling storm in her eyes comparing herself to them.

“Baby.” Simon said softly. He wished she’d understand she was breathtaking and that she shouldn’t compare herself to other women. In his eyes, until the day he dies and beyond that, he will always think she’s the most breathtaking woman. His hands gently brushed down her hair as he looked at her deep in the eyes.

He would continue to devour her with his eyes until she understood how exactly he felt.

“Yeah,” she said softly as she looked at her giant of a husband.

He felt himself melt at the sight of her looking up at him while her hand rubbed his chest gently.

“You wanna another cider?” He asked softly, his hand gently squeezing her hip.

“Yeah, I can come with you.” (Y/n) said softly as she followed him close.

His hand gently grabbed her as he guided her to the bar top again.

“How’s my pretty girl?” His voice was deep and had an edge of huskiness in it, maybe a bit breathy as well. It made (y/n) swell with love knowing that she got him worked up enough.

Her eyes glanced up at him as she smiled softly. “Better now that it’s you and me.” She said softly.

“To many people, baby?” He asked gently, looking at her with the softest eyes.

“Somewhat?” She looked away nervously. His hand rested on the thin of her back as they waited in line.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered into her ear. It was his way of saying ‘we can have a private conversation right here’.

She fiddled with his collar as she straightened it out. Her eyes glanced around nervously seeing how she wasn’t the only one dressed in the style she was, she had to remember Anna, Lilliana, and Mrs. Price were all older than her, so they would have a different fashion sense.

“Am I childish, overly youthful?” She whispered in his ears. He leaned forward as both his hands grabbed her hips tugging her closer.

He wondered what had got her thinking like that, then it dawned on him. Those two girls were always targeting you.

A month ago, (y/n) had come home crying, having gone out to lunch with the two girls and Mrs. Price, who made sure to deliver (y/n) personally at the Riley’s residence after the luncheon they had. She had been a crying mess blubbering in Simon’s arms all the while Mrs. Price was explaining to Simon what took place as she’s doing her motherly duties in soothing the younger woman.

Soap had thought it was a good idea for the two ladies to welcome the newcomers, who Gaz and Soap had started dating at the same time because the girls were best friends and they had met the two at the club.

Simon could remember Mrs. Price said that one of the newcomers had ‘accidentally’ fumbled their tea and split it all over his lovely wife. He could remember Maria quoting the air when she said accidentally with an eye roll. She knew it was on purpose. Simon knew it was on purpose.

“No dovie, you're beautiful,” he hummed. “I love ya’ just the way ya’ are.” His Manchester accent made it sound like honey. “You're dead gorgeous and I’ll tell ya’ forever until ya’ learn it.” He paused as he ordered their drinks as it was their turn after a few minutes of waiting. He had it put onto the tab he had opened earlier and would have to remember to close later. “Don’t ya’ be listening to those girls, they ain’t got nothin’ on my pretty little wife.” He smooched her cheek. “They’re jealous. Jealous of your gorgeous looks, your gorgeous attitude, your sweet like honey, pretty girl. Don’t let ‘em damper your mood.”

These were the very moments she knew she had made a good choice in marrying Simon. Because he picked up the broken pieces when she needed a bit more support. He let her cry in his arms over nothing until she was soothed and better. He held her hand as he made sweet love to her constantly praising her and making sure she was okay. He was the best husband she could have ever asked for.

“I love ya’ now pretty girl, I love ya’ forever,” he kissed her lips as she giggled softly.

“Love you too.” She hugged him as he brought her left hand to his mouth kissing her knuckles.

“You're my good girl, don’t let ‘em damper the mood tonight.” He smiled at her as the waitress brought the drinks to them, handing it off.

“Yes Si.” She nodded as she followed him back out behind tight against his side.

The night went on and very little trouble appeared.

Maria suggested (y/n) and her take a walk in the vineyard and plan a day out where the two could go with Moira—or Murray for short—and have a shopping spree.

“Ye’ boys be good, I’m takin’ m girl and chatting, don’t worry Simon, she’s with me.” Maria smiled as she put her hand on (y/n)’s waist and walked her into the growing garden of grapes.

“Hold up lassies, Anne, Liliana, go join ‘em.” Soap smiled as he waved them off. “Good fer ye’ gals to figure out their dynamics and then ye’ can have girls' nights.”

“Oh yes, join us.” Maria smiled as she held her disappointment. (Y/n) hid her face dropping as she looked at Simon who gave her a reassuring smile.

Maria would fight on his behalf.

“Let me see, Murray likes the kind of stuff yer’ wearing now. I’m my we’ babes mama, and I’m not good with her fashion even if she is a teen.” Maria laughed. “I could pick out an outfit and she’d yak and say, ‘mam it’s uglier than a tit’.”

(Y/n) giggled at Maria repeating what Murray said.

“Look, teens dress like you too.” Anne snickered and snorted with the other woman, making Maria give them a glare.

“Such…youthful…mmm…” Lilliana tapped her chin. “That’s not the word I’m looking for, more like childish outfits.” Lilliana nodded her head as she sipped her wine. “And you don’t drink wine like an adult, you drink hard cider, probably beer too.”

(Y/n) frowned as she looked ashamed.

“What are ye’ girls yapperin’ about, beer is good, hard cider is better than wine,” Maria corrected them. “And she is fashionable, and me’ daughter is 20, an adult, only 5 years younger then Mrs. Riley here.”

“25 she’s practically a baby.” Anne snorted. “Simon needs a woman, not a girl. Someone who’s mature, honey you don’t fit the bill.” (Y/n) felt that nagging feeling in the back of her head that said: ‘run…run away…no one will find you’. She was starting to think they were right, she was immature and Simon just didn’t know how to tell her that.

“Oh that man loves ya’ beyond all means, yer’ his Persephone.” Maria ignored them. “These fools are just jealous and tootin’ their own horn.”

Maria wasn’t afraid to tell people how it was. She was an outspoken woman. Mr. Price would often tell (y/n) to watch Maria and learn, body language the fact that no fucks were given when she was handling a person who pissed with her family.

Just like that one time a man said Harry sucked at footy. The wretched man said no one would want an imbecile playing footy when he didn’t know his left from his right. Maria, pounced quicker than John who sat back with a can of beer in his hands and a smirk on his face. (Y/n) could remember that one clear-as-day. Simon had leaned over and whispered to her to remind him to never oiss her off. It was terrifying for the two newlyweds nonetheless. (Y/n) was 21, and Simon was 28. The two were afraid they were gonna get a foot up their ass as well for something they did, but didn’t do.

“Let me see your gorgeous wedding rings.” Maria hummed. “He married ya’, and put those precious rings on yer’ finger cause he loves ya’ more than the world.”

Anne and Lilliana paused as they looked at the rings.

Their eyes met one and another as they smiled at each other.

‘Oh dear lord, no. God, no.’ (Y/n) thought to herself.

“Pretty ring,” Lilliana, hummed as they leaned forward. “Can we see?”

(Y/n) hesitated as she knew how important these were to Simon, in fact they were so important to her she hardly let anyone touch her hands.

She showed them from a distance but Anna quickly snatched her hand up making (y/n) squeak out.

“There my mama’s rings baby,” Simon hummed as he smiled at (y/n). “I want ya’ to wear ‘em, they’d look so pretty on your hands.” He kissed your knuckles. “Marry me, pretty girl, make me the happiest man in the whole wild world. Make my mama proud and wear her rings, please baby.” He was so sweet as he proposed to her overlooking Scotland's pretty scenery.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Atta’ girl,” Simon lurched forward kissing her as he put the engagement ring on her finger. “Let’s keep the other one tucked away safely so when I get to see you in a pretty dress.”

“These are important to me and Simon, please just look.” She gasped as they gripped her fingers tightly.

“Now ye’ brats let her go.” Maria swatted at their hands.

They didn't let go of (y/n)’s hands and actually started to tug on her ring finger. She was trying to push their hands away as she felt her eyes well up.

“Oh she’s a crybaby too, so immature.” Anna laughed.

“Oh it’s so pretty,” Lilliana started to slip the rings off her fingers as (y/n) tried everything to stop her. Maria did as she called them a nasty word in her native tongue, and tried to get the ring back.

“Now ye’ girls need some manners.” Maria snapped at them.

“Be a shame if they got lost, he might leave you then,” Anna snorted at Lilliana’s words.

She didn’t want Simon to leave her. She didn’t want those rings to be lost. She started to cry as she shut down not knowing what to do. Her anxiety was through the roof. She glanced at Maria with pure panic.

(Y/n) felt her breath stop, her whole world stop as they tossed them behind them like they were nothing. Lilliana and Anne threw each one back like they were nothing. Like they were senseless gold or fake jewelry that would tarnish the wearer’s finger green once the coating was off of it.

Her eyes widened as she watched Maria chase after the area they went to but she couldn’t see them because they had rolled. She didn’t know what to do other than to cover her mouth and sob. “My rings.” She whispered as she saw Maria sit up straight and look at her.

The other girls walked off laughing as they went deeper in the vineyard and hadn’t been seen for the hour Maria and (y/n) were in the ground searching.

Her sobs got louder as she lost faith in finding the rings Simon had gifted her.

“Calm down m’babe, go get the boys and they can help search, go get Simon m’love.” She hushed her and pushed her up to the grounds where the boys were sitting and laughing. She had her mouth covered as she sobbed quietly trying not to gain anyone’s attention.

What if Simon left her and the girls blamed her for the lost rings.

He knew better, those two girls had caused you more trouble over their jealousy. It was just that fact that the anxiety and the fear crept up in her mind.

“Her cousin and Farah are tryin’ for a baby,” Simon hummed softly. “Been givin’ me a bit of a baby fever. Never thought I’d be one for having my own kids, but here I am. She’d look gorgeous pregnant.”

His words would have made her heart beat a bit faster if it wasn’t for the fact that her rings were missing.

“(Y/n),” Price shot forward very fatherly over the girl since she didn’t have her father or mother who had sadly passed years ago. and he was the one to walk her down the aisle with Maria. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees were dirty, and her hands looked like they were digging in dirt.

Simon was the first to bolt out of his chair as she refused to look at any of them. Concern was etched on Simon’s face as he knew when she cried there was a reason, whether it was a silly one or not, it was enough to warrant him to coddle her and figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes never left the ground even as Simon cupped her face and tugged her close.

“Baby, what’s got you upset?” He was gentle as Price was behind her shielding her from other passerbys.

She sobbed and covered her mouth as her other hand clung to Simon. She felt light headed and terrified.

She knew she just needed to spit it out. “Maria and I…” she felt a hiccup break her words as she was crying heavily. “We’ve been searching for an hour.” She sniffled as she started to hyperventilate and her words started to get jumbled.

Simon’s heart cleaned as he brushed the hair from her face.

An hour? An hour of searching for what?

He wasn’t understanding, but he knew one thing: wrapping her up in his arms and getting her to calm down was the first thing to do.

“Shh, shh,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Shh, love it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiled at her softly. “Deep breaths, nice and easy for me, pretty girl.”

She did some of that but other than that she was back to babbling and trying to get her words out.

“And I can’t find it.” She sobbed her hands refusing to clutch too tightly to his white shirt, knowing she’ll get it dirty.

Simon's concern deepened as he tried to make sense of (y/n)’s words. "Can't find what, love? What are you looking for?" He continued to hold her against him, one hand gently stroking her back to try and soothe her sobs.

Then her words were finally freed up knowing she needed to convey the message Maria sent her to tell the men.

“The girls asked to see our rings, and Maria and I didn’t know they were going to rip it off my finger. It hurt and we tried to stop them, and they threw both my wedding band and engagement ring.” She sobbed. “It was your mom’s wedding band and engagement ring, I can’t find them.” She felt like bile could escape from her mouth at any second.

“They did what!” Soap looked like he was gonna have a conniption while Gaz covered his mouth as he looked apologetically to the two of them.

Simon's eyes widened in shock as he processed (y/n)’s words. The girls had stolen her rings and thrown them away? And not just any rings, but his mother's wedding band and engagement ring.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n)’s tears and pain took priority. He held her tighter against him, his voice strained. "Those bloody girls. They’re gonna pay for this.”

“I can’t find them.” She huffed as more tears welled up in her pretty eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk to the manager and make sure they know that we have a missing engagement ring and a missing wedding band.” Price patted Simon on the back. He disappeared quickly as Simon rubbed his wife’s back trying to soothe her as he whispered to her.

“We’re gonna find them baby, I won’t stop looking until they're back in your fingers.” He kissed her cheek. “So breathe baby, we’re not leaving until they're back on your finger.”

“I’m gonna go down with Maria and start searching in the area she thinks she saw them go.” Soap said as he looked at the two of them. “We’ll find them.” He reassured the two.

“Better find them, and you better keep those rotten women away from my wife!” Simon snarled at the two men.

“Yes LT.” They saluted.

Simon stuck close to (y/n) as he tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and her fears that didn’t seem to be washing away until she saw those rings in either his hands or her own hands.

Johnny and Gaz looked in the area’s Maria had pointed to them, while her and John searched the area she swore up and down it landed at.

The doubt and fear hadn’t settled in (y/n)’s stomach, right now she wished it would go away. She was about ready to throw up all that dinner that Simon worked hard to cook her.

“We’re not gonna find them.” She felt her anxieties creep into the back of her mind.

“Baby, we’re not leavin’ until those damn things are back in that hand.” He pointed to her left hand. “I promise you that.” He cupped her face.

“But Simon,” she was exhausted. “What if…what if we don’t find them?” She fretted as she looked at her husband with tears falling down her cheek.

Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew how much those rings meant to his wife, and the thought of losing them was torture for him.

He knew from day one they had made her feel special, feel well loved by her husband who adored her so much. She felt like it was her fault she lost them and it was on her now that they were missing not having protected his precious rings.

He gave (y/n)’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll find them, love. I promise. We won't stop until we do.”

It’s all she needed to hear and take in to slowly get back to searching. It had taken him multiple times to finally get it through her head he would have those rings back as soon as he could find them.

“You gave those to me hoping I would keep them safe since they were my engagement and wedding bands but I couldn’t.” She cried softly as she searched the ground near him.

Simon's heart clenched at her words.

Yes, he had given (y/n) his mother's rings with the hope that she’d keep them safe. But he never expected her to be put in this situation. Who would? He’d never expect two girls to be that jealous and put his wife in this much emotional turmoil.

"Love, it's not your fault," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You didn’t ask for this. Those bloody girls had no right to touch your rings. They had no right to touch you, pretty girl.” He stopped and filled her face. “And I’m gonna protect you until the day I die, and if that means tellin’ them girls off, then that’s what the hell I’ll do.”

Their hands searched the ground as their eyes looked everywhere. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later Maria bounced up with excitement and happiness.

“I found one, ye’ lads keep yer’ eyes open for the engagement ring, I found the wedding band!” She shouted happily as she rushed over to (y/n) gently placing the ring on her finger. “Sweet babe, we’ll find it, I promise.”

Simon watched as Maria comforted the woman he loved so dearly. His anger subsided momentarily, replaced by relief and gratitude to Maria for her kindness. There was truly something special about the mother of three.

"We will," he said, agreeing with Maria. His voice was more steady now. "We'll find that engagement ring, even if we have to tear this place apart."

The two of them went back to searching as they looked through the ground as thoroughly as they could.

It wasn’t until another fifteen minutes had passed after Maria came barreling with the wedding band that they had found the engagement ring.

Simon's eyes caught a glint of something shiny among the blades of grass. He crouched down, gently pushing the grass aside to get a clearer view.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was—(y/n)’s engagement ring.

He had found it, he felt his heart flutter as all that stress and worry subsided and it was gone. The relief was back and he couldn’t be happier than ever to present the ring back to his precious wife who had been stressing and withering as the time went on.

"Love, come here," Simon called out, his voice calm but urgent. He motioned for her to come closer, his eyes never leaving the small glint of gold in the grass.

He plucked the object from the ground and smiled seeing the ring shine in the golden rays that were the sun's final moments before the moon came out. “Come now my pretty girl.”

As soon as (y/n) reached his side, he held up the engagement ring, showing it to her. "I found it, love. I found it."

She felt her mind go blank and her eyes well up as she let out a sob lurching forward and hugging Simon.

Simon wrapped his arms around (y/n) holding her tightly in his embrace, tears streaming down her face. He held the woman tight, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"It's alright now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "We found it, love. We found your ring." Simon carefully placed the engagement ring back on his wife’s finger, his touch gentle yet firm. As he did, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her cheek as a way to reassure her everything was alright. "It suits you," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It always has. Looks gorgeous on my girl.”

She wiped her eyes as her hands found the back of his neck as her nails scratched into the base of his hair.

“I’m so sorry I lost it,” she murmured into his neck. “I didn’t mean to lose your mama’s ring.”

Simon gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't apologize, love," he said softly. "Those girls took them without your consent. It's not your fault. And you didn't lose them—we found them.”

(Y/n) knew Ghost would defend her until his last breath, and even at that, he would transcend and defend her for beyond human measure.

“I love you,” (y/n) said softly.

Ghosts hand gently caressed her face as he wiped her tears away. “Love you too, pretty girl.” His voice was breathy and a whisper.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn’t in the mix when Ghost confronted the two girls. She could hear the words Ghost growled to them as he lectured them on proper treatment of people in general.

He sounded in that moment, more like a lieutenant than he did her husband and it was a strange thing to hear in his voice when he had always been soft and cute with her.

“He’s gonna be a good father.” Maria hummed as she stood proudly with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah he will,” (y/n) smiled as she rocked in her feet back and forth waiting for him to return to her.

When he did return, (y/n! spent the rest of the night tucked to his side constantly on the receiving end of his hushed whispers of love and adoration.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?” She said softly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Ready to go home, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on pretty girl,” he smirked at her as she knew that look. “I think I need to remind you how pretty you truly are.”

Those words were a reminder that this night could last even longer than she thought they would.

“Yeah pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

[twola]

Could we get a medium honor Arthur that's obsessed with the reader having no gag reflex? He takes her any chance he gets 🫣🫣

Of Many Talents

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Those hands - calloused and rough, strong and beaten, scarred and certain, they curl around your jaw with such gentleness it still surprises you.

“My girl,” He hums, and you nuzzle your cheek against his saddle hewn thigh, his course pubic hair brushing against your skin.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He continues, swaying slightly as you press your lips against the crease of his hip, continuing the journey you’ve been on for the last several minutes.

The oil lantern in the corner of the hotel room burns low, the shadows of the night cast across the room.

“Arthur Morgan, don’t you start.” You smile up at him from your knees, resting your chin on his thigh for a moment.

He chuckles to himself softly, running his hand then over your hair, tucking loose strands of it back gently behind your ear.

You adjust yourself on your knees, fortunately there was a rug on the hardwood floor beneath where your skirts pool down. You can tell he is anxious, swaying again, his spurs jingling slightly. His knees are bound by his pants, pulled down enough to allow you to run your hands up his pale thighs to his abdomen- he holds his shirt up with one hand as the other caresses the back of your head lovingly.

After teasing him quite enough, you set yourself to the task at hand - literally, as your hands move to his pelvis, one wrapping around the base of his hard cock and the other cupping his balls. He sucks in a breath loudly as his hips pulse forward out of his own volition.

"Eager there, cowboy?"

"Jesus - you... please..." His voice is rough, like he had been gargling gravel as you shallowly pump your hand up and down his shaft.

You decide not to tease any longer. You draw yourself up back on your knees and open your mouth to him, your tongue darting out to lick the sensitive slit of his head.

"God damnit-" He groans in the night, teeth gritted as he stares down at you, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other resting lightly on your head.

You continue, enveloping the round, blunt end of him in your wet, warm mouth, he lets out a breathe he had been holding for a few moments with a groan as you continue, taking inch by inch of him.

"Oh god, girl-" He mutters, and your eyes dart up to him coquettishly. You slowly slide forward, staring up at him all the while, until your nose presses into his coarse hair, until the very tip of him curves down your throat. At that, Arthur throws his head back and moans, his hat falling and bouncing to the floor as his fingers pulse in your hair. You breathe through your nose and rock back and forward, saliva dripping down your chin as you properly fuck him with your mouth

"Oh, oh sweetheart, you -hah- got the wickedest mouth on you-" He pants.

You moan, and he lets another breath out near painfully as the vibrations from your throat pulse around his cock. Working your jaw slightly, you rock back and forth faster as his fingers work into your hair harder, knowing that your lover is well on his way to completely losing his composure. You slow down, and he looks back at you wildly, his eyes lust blown and mouth hanging open.

With a haughty blink of your eye, you suck, hard, and the outlaw is finished.

"Oh - aw shit-!" Arthur barks out before his hips thrust forward and he's shooting his spend down your throat. He rocks slightly as it peters off, and pulls his cock from your mouth with a hiss. You clear your throat, rubbing at your neck as he incredulously looks down at you.

"I dunno what deal you made with the devil to be able to do that, but I ain't complainin'," Arthur wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he grabs his pants, pulling them up as you lick the last bit of pearly spend off your lips. After he situates himself, both of his arms dart down to help you up, and continue by pulling you into an embrace.

"Just like makin' you happy," You nuzzle into his chest. A laugh bursts out from his lips.

"Honey, you make me more than happy. Now let's get you down on the bed and I'll get to makin' you sing."

[revelboo]

Stairs are the Devil and as I sit stuck on the first floor of the air bnb my family rented when I came down to hunt for food I considered. Man there must be so many stairs and ladders I’d human/Cybertronian spaces. I’d just be asking every bit that passes by if they could pick me up and drop me on the next platform ahsjdhbd

🤣 humans after they have their own cat highway in the Ark just making puppy eyes at any bot they come across for uppies so they don’t have to walk because that ship is huge.

Lift

Slingshot, Alpha Bravo

• Are you even going in the right direction? You’d been pretty sure when you’d started out, but now you’re less confident. Even though you’d been one of the loudest lobbying for a safe way to get around the Ark because it was embarrassing to be carried everywhere and walking on the ground is too risky when the bots are so big. But you’re beyond caring about dignity at this point as you just sit on the walkway. Because you’re not walking another damn step. And your head lifts when you hear peds.

• Spotting one of the little humans on the walkway, Slingshot breaks away from Alpha Bravo, curious. Especially since you’re alone and humans are normally not far from whoever their Cybertronian guardian is. And off limits. “You’re even tinier than I thought,” he croons, reaching out his cupped hands and you immediately retreat. Growling, Alpha Bravo shoves his hands away. ‘You can’t just pick one of them up,’ the other Aerialbot snarls. Just wanted to hold you, he wasn’t going to drop you.

• Eyeing the two, it’s not like you know every Autobot in the Ark, but there’s not that many bots with flight capable altmodes. And you’ve been here long enough to know bots react one of two ways with humans. Indifference or almost frightening levels of curiosity thinking humans are cute. The taller of the two definitely falls into the latter category. But if he likes humans? “I’m lost,” you call out and they both look at you in question, the shorter bot actually startling like he didn’t realize you could talk. “Could I get a lift to the rec room?” And shorty is rumbling, trying to push the taller bot down the hall as you give him your best puppy eyes. “Please?”

• Groaning as he clears his vents when Slingshot immediately agrees, Alpha Bravo watches the other bot coax you into his hands. And Slingshot’s headed back the way they came with you, fussing over how small you are as you beam up at him. Making a big deal out of him helping you and the taller Aerialbot is eating it up. Gullible enough to need the attention. Hears you crooning about their paint and asking what they transform into and he rumbles even as his rotors flare slightly when you say you bet they’re amazing fliers. Not that he needs the praise, even if it is true.

• These guys are too easy. The taller one who’d introduced himself as Slingshot, as eager as a puppy. Making you think he’s lonely. His buddy just keeps frowning at you, his tone almost sullen when he talks. Big chip on his shoulder if you had to guess and it’s adorable. But any bots friendly enough to carry you where you need to go so you don’t have to walk all the way yourself? Yeah, these guys, or at least Slingshot, are your new besties. Dignity is overrated anyway. You’re good with being carried.

[beanwaterontherocks]

80's Slasher Style

Fandom: Killer Chat! Pairing: Ronin Beaufort x gn!reader Summary: You already expected a summer camp counselor job to come with its fair share of problems. Those you were way too underpaid to deal with. But a murderer? Really? Warnings: Murder and implied violence, Summer Camp AU Word count: 3616

Normally having the thought “I’m not getting paid enough for this” while working at a summer camp came to you when you had to break up a fight or deal with a clogged toilet. Your biggest gripes with the job were mosquito bites and unruly kids. But that was your first thought when you saw your coworker Ronin dragging a real life corpse into the woods. 

You had tried to rationalize it at first, maybe you were tired and seeing things. Maybe it was one of the dolls from your CPR training day. But no, you saw the way blood dripped from the body’s head, staining the ground as Ronin moved into the trees. 

Breakfast in the dining hall was filled with its usual laughter and the occasional piece of food thrown. You stared into your watery coffee, mind racing with the memories of last night. When you first met Ronin you hadn’t noticed anything off.

Sure, his whole devil spiel was interesting to say the least but he was good with the kids. You never imagined the hands that were making beaded bracelets just yesterday would be capable of murder. As much as it pained you to say now, you had even found him a little cute. An echo of your name sounded in your ear and you turned to see Misaki, who had sat down next to you while you were lost in your thoughts. 

“Are you okay? You seem a little out of it”, they said, popping an apple slice into their mouth. You tried your best to give a reassuring smile that likely had the opposite effect. 

“It’s nothing I’m just…worried about the hike and camping today”, you lied, eyes darting around looking for burgundy hair. Ronin wasn’t there, was he still out in the woods getting rid of the evidence? Who had he even killed, who was missing? 

“I’m sure it’ll be fun, I’ve got tons of creepy ghost stories ready”, Misaki said proudly. 

“Please don’t, they’re not going to sleep if they’re scared”, Angel laughed as she passed your table. It was still a trip to have a famous model working as a camp counselor, you still hadn’t asked her about why she was here. 

“Do not eat the ladybug, I am sure it would not appreciate it”, a voice spoke and you looked over to see V gently taking the spotted insect from a kid. You found your heartbeat steadying as you realized you could depend on one of your other coworkers. You had to tell one of them about what you saw, before Ronin realized that you had seen him. 

The camp director approached you, his knuckles white as he gripped his clipboard. 

“We’re a counselor short for the hiking trip, I’m putting Ronin on your team”, he said and you almost crushed the paper cup in your hand. Your pulse spiked again as you swallowed your nervousness. 

“Wasn’t Mike going to come with us?” You asked tentatively. He shook his head and leaned in close to you.

“Mike quit last night, he just texted me that he was going home and then left! Can you believe it?” He scoffed and you felt your heart sink, knowing where he really was, likely buried just a few hundred feet away. 

“I really can’t…” you mused as he walked away. Now you had to camp out in the forest at night with a killer, you really didn’t get paid enough for this. You finished your breakfast and headed back to the activities cabins, there was half an hour before morning activities started. You wondered if you should take a page out of Mike’s fake book and quit on the spot. Sure, you needed the money but 12 dollars an hour wasn’t worth dying for, not even in this economy. 

You wandered past the bonfire and towards the arts cabin. The only sounds were the distant screams of excited kids and the chirping of birds. That was until you heard him behind you, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You were almost expecting a knife to your throat but Ronin stood there with his hands in his pockets. 

“Mornin’, I can’t wait for the hike later, just me, you and the wilderness”, he laughed, his usual toothy grin had an underlying sinister tone. 

He had seen you too. 

“You’re forgetting 3 other counselors and 20 kids”, you said, picking at one of your braided friendship bracelets. He wouldn’t do anything in broad daylight, hopefully. 

“Yeah them too, I hear Misaki’s got some ghost stories, I bet you love a good scare”, he said, leaning forward to be at eye level with you. You gritted your teeth, maybe you should just call the police and get the fuck out of there.

You weren’t really sure why you didn’t, whether it was cowardice or feeling that it’d somehow be futile. Ronin’s expression was completely calm and casual, either he truly didn’t know or he was extremely confident, annoyingly cocky even. In what you weren’t sure of yet, that you wouldn’t tell anyone? That he could easily get rid of you?

Your entire body was on alert the longer you spent alone with him but, to your surprise, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. Ronin shot you one last smile over his shoulder and the adrenaline coursing through your veins was accompanied by something warmer. You absolutely did not have time to question your still lingering attraction to a guy you knew was a murderer. Not when you had to be at the arts cabin for pottery lessons.  

You donned a pair of plastic gloves and opened a pack of sandwich bread, there was a lot of food to prepare for the hike and you had decided to help the camp cook. The door to the kitchen swung open as you began spreading jelly onto the bread.

V walked into the kitchen, spotting you and giving a nod as a greeting. He was quiet most of the time, but perked up with fun facts every time there was talk about wildlife. Apparently he was quite wealthy so you wondered why he would spend his time working for peanuts at a random summer camp. But he seemed to enjoy being outside and people could have hobbies. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw V carrying a large hunk of wrapped raw meat out from the fridge. You did remember the cook saying that dinner for the hike would be stew with pork sirloin. V picked up a large, shining meat cleaver and got to work chopping up the meat.

The way he held the blade drew your attention. There was so much conviction behind his grip on the wooden handle. He seemingly wasn’t phased by the heaviness of the knife or the sharpness, his cuts were clean, precise and…perfect. The meat quickly and efficiently turned from a slab into a bunch of uniform squares, not a piece wasted. 

You recalled how V avoided any bacon, sausage or eggs at the breakfast tables and how he always had his own, different dish at dinner. 

 “You’re really good at that, I thought you didn’t eat meat”, you said as you packed up another sandwich. V glanced at you as he put the cubed meat onto a metal tray.

“I don’t eat it, though I suppose I’m skilled at butchering without waste”, he said, his brows furrowing slightly at the word ‘butcher’. You couldn’t get the image out of your mind, steady hands that had seemed so gentle skillfully cutting into flesh. It was just pork and he probably cooked a lot for other people, you reassured yourself. Your mind was just paranoid after finding out about Ronin, you were seeing danger everywhere. 

You showed the boy how to braid the bright colorful string once again and leaned back in your chair. Ronin had been absent from your line of sight since that morning. Maybe he was starting to get worried that you were going to tell someone. Or maybe he was just playing with you, like a looming cat with a squeaky mouse toy. You couldn’t let him sink his claws in, no matter what happened.

Angel sat in the chair opposite yours, making sparkly beads into stunning bracelets. The pieces she had already made adorned her wrists and neck, jazzing up the plain t-shirt with the camp’s bear logo. You found your gaze traveling to one of her wrists, the bracelet was made up of the dainty crystal beads you had bought for the camp before the season started.

Though one bead was different, it was sort of…lumpy and a slight off-white. Your eyes narrowed, what had looked like a matte freshwater pearl before now looked wrong and almost familiar. You didn’t know why, but you ran the tip of your tongue over one of your canine teeth. Something jolted up your spine as Angel looked away from her work to catch you staring. 

“Is something wrong?” She asked, tilting her head and you quickly shook yours. 

“I’m okay, just didn’t get a lot of sleep, I was zoning out”, you said, rubbing the back of your neck. You were being so paranoid, you needed to tell someone about Ronin soon to get this weight off your chest. Angel propped a hand under her chin and smiled at you, making you feel less tense. 

“If you want to catch up on some sleep you can go to bed early tonight, I’ll watch your group for you”, she offered and you sighed, there was no reason to worry about someone as sweet as Angel was. 

Your sneakers crunched against the dry ground, it was a hot day so you would need plenty of water for the hike. Maybe you could still quit, it’d be a dick move but a lot better than potentially being murdered 80s-slasher-style. As you walked towards the counselor’s cabins you spotted a group of campers playing soccer on an empty expanse of grass. You spotted a tall, burgundy-haired figure playing with them.

Ronin laughed as a kid passed him the ball, he ran between two others trying to block him and kicked the ball into the rusty old goal. His teammates cheered and Ronin bent down to give one of them a high-five. It would have been sweet, maybe it would have even endeared you to him. But you couldn’t ignore the memory flashing in your mind and the rotten taste in your mouth that accompanied it. Black eyes locked with yours, glimmering like embers with an infuriating mischief. 

How could he find any of this funny? Ronin ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face and you could see the glistening sweat on his skin. You scoffed and turned your head away, ignoring the way your face heated up. You had to get it together now, this was serious. 

Even though the light poured through the trees, casting beams of sunshine onto the buttercup-littered forest floor, the woods looked anything but inviting to you. You felt the pocket on the side of your cargo shorts. The knife you had brought was no sharp hunting knife, it was barely longer than your ring finger and made for whittling. But as much as you (told yourself that) hated Ronin, you didn’t want to stab him so the blade was really just insurance.

Almost as if he had read your mind, the man in question walked up to stand next to you. Him, Angel, V, Misaki, you and the older kids were gathered at the treeline. It was time for the hike and time for you to toughen up. Your breath hitched when you felt Ronin’s shoulder brush against yours, yup, that was definitely just anxiety. 

Your group of 4 trailed behind you as you walked through the woods, the map to the camping ground folded out in front of you. In reality, the trail was carefully marked so getting lost would take a lot of stupidity. But you needed something to do with your hands instead of making sure that you still had your knife. 

“Now if we do encounter a bear you shouldn’t panic, how we proceed will depend on if it has cubs with it or not”, V spoke as he walked with his group ahead of you, resting a hand on the clearly nervous kid’s shoulder. “But usually, they do not approach larger groups, you have nothing to fear”. His words made you glance over at Ronin, who was strolling with his hands resting behind his head.

 For now, while the sun was still up and everyone was awake, you had nothing to fear. 

The sky had faded into a warm deep yellow as the sun made its way down the horizon. The group has decided to take a short break before you’d arrive at the camping grounds. As you sipped from your water bottle, you felt a light tap on your shoulder and turned around to see Misaki standing there. 

“It’s golden hour, prime photo-time, how about we take some pictures to remember this?” They suggested, pulling their phone out of their pocket. You agreed and offered to be the photographer, taking a few steps back on the trail to get everyone in frame. As you snapped a few photos, Misaki’s phone buzzed with a notification. Your eyes couldn’t help but skim over the message that popped up from a texting app you didn’t recognize. 

“Nicely done with the chainsaw, I wired some extra money to your account, hope to work with you again soon”.  

You chuckled to yourself at where your brain initially went. Misaki did mention having a full-time job outside of camp season. You supposed they…cut up trees for a living. Just lumber, nothing but boring woodwork. You gave them back their phone and did your best to smile as you noticed the sky getting darker, soon you’d have to face the harrowing, screechy music. 

After dinner was finished, you all sat on logs around the campfire, roasting marshmallows in the warm summer night. You watched as the sugary surface burned, cracking into coal-like fragments.

Soon it would be bedtime and everyone would bundle up in their tents, sleeping soundly to the lullaby of grasshoppers. You stared into the flicking fire, catching a glimpse of Ronin seated on the other side. He looked down with a girl at the DS she had smuggled to the hike. He looked so harmless with his colorful bracelets, camp t-shirt and amused grin.

A voice inside of you was, somehow, sure that he was. At least to everyone here but you. The genuine content look in those obsidian eyes crackled away as they traveled to rest on you. The amusement was still there, but there was a challenge to his gaze, an urge to play this game with you. 

The minutes ticked away on your watch as a symphony of closing tent zippers rang throughout the grounds. The last withering embers from the fire fought against the breeze as you dug into the dirt with the tip of your shoe. Ronin returned from checking that everyone was going to sleep and sat down next to you on the log. 

“Thanks for keeping it light with the ghost stories” Angel said, smiling as Misaki shuffled the deck of cards they’d brought out. You weren’t in the mood for rummy, or any kind of game, you were utterly sick of playing. As you stood up, you announced that you were going for a walk, your gaze flickering down at Ronin. He shot you his signature devious smile and gave a cute little wave and you hid your scowl by turning the other direction. 

You made your way through the trees, a small grassy cliff coming into view. Your hand slid into your pocket and pulled out your measly knife. After waiting, you began to wonder if he was even going to grace you with his presence. A rustle in the bushes made your heart begin to pound in your ears and you saw heavy black boots emerge from the foliage. 

“What are you gonna do with that, darlin’? Carve our initials into a tree trunk?” Ronin laughed, his toothy grin wide on his face. “Be careful, summer romance is the perfect slasher bait”, he walked towards you. Despite almost every cell in your body screaming at you to run, you stood your ground until he had your back pressed up against the rough bark of a tree. 

With his arms caging you in, he could probably hear the erratic thumping of your aorta. Maybe it was the sweetest of melodies to him. “So, what are you going to do, you still haven’t answered me~ that’s a little rude”, he purred, eyes shimmering with delight as your brows furrowed.

What were you going to do now? Your grip on the hilt of the knife tightened, he was close but you were armed. His wine-colored locks almost tickled your cheeks as he loomed over you, his breath was warm against your lips. There was enough room to move your arms, drive the blade into him. 

Something stopped you…you didn’t want to stoop to his level. No, who were you even kidding? It wasn’t something cheesily noble like that. Your heartbeat was full of excitement, not the rush of terror or dread of anxiety. You had liked this game, had you always been sick in this way? Or did he see it deep within you and decided to violently claw it out. You weren’t sure how this would end, if there would even be a winner but you were going to give him your best. 

“I know what you did”, you said, staring into his irises, teetering on the edge of falling into the void.

“What did I do this summer?” Ronin asked mockingly and you kind of wanted to punch him if he made another horror movie reference. Maybe you weren’t completely rotten yet. 

You simply rolled your eyes and reached your other hand out to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in. 

“You killed Mike, why’d you do it?” You asked, curiosity starting to gnaw at you, he seemed so well-acquainted with murder. Before Ronin could speak up, he was cut off by loud steps as three figures tore through the greenery. 

“Ronin…” Angel said under her breath as her, V and Misaki stared at the scene before them. The flowing, heated exhilaration of the moment froze over as you looked back at them. Angel’s sky-blue eyes were wide and you felt a pang in your heart. Those two had seemed close, her world must have begun to crumble at learning what Ronin had done. 

A deep, exhausted sigh sounded from beside her as V shook his head in…annoyance. 

“We had an agreement, what if one of the children found his corpse?” V scoffed as your gaze flicked back to Angel, who had crossed her arms. 

“I did kind of expect this, it’s you after all”, she said, a light smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“You hid it, right? The kind of stuff you do can scar a kid for life”, Misaki said, their tone concerned. What did they mean by the kind of stuff he did? Ronin removed his palms from the tree and held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Aw come on, have some mercy, I had to completely go against my M.O!” He locked eyes with you “Burying a body is a lot less fun than twistin’ it into a pentagram”. 

You realized you didn't get the luxury of dealing with a regular killer but the Devil’s Butcher. “Plus, you should have heard the way he talked to his girlfriend on the phone, he had it comin’”, Ronin explained. 

One by one, your other coworkers revealed themselves to be killers as well, making you the weird one here. The fear that was present at first had melted away, leaving only pure bewilderment. There was still something that hadn’t been resolved though and that weirdly didn’t make you as nervous as it should have. 

“So what happens now?” you glanced behind you, catching a glimpse of the rocky patch under the edge of the cliff “It’s not a huge drop but with the right angle…”. Past you would probably throw you over the cliff themselves at your insane words. 

“That won’t be necessary”, V spoke and Ronin chuckled, his voice laced with a sick enjoyment.

“Speak for yourself, keep talkin’”, he drawled, making you roll your eyes.

Maybe you were trustworthy or maybe it was sheer dumb luck, but you lived to see the bright sunrise the next morning. You knew they’d all be keeping a close eye on you to make sure you held up your end of the deal.

You’d make pretty friendship bracelets, go on scenic nature hikes, calm down screaming kids and sing corny campfire songs with your coworkers. Who were, for now, willing to dispose of you if you decided to rat them out. 

As you packed up your sleeping bag you noticed that your knife was missing. Your eyes scanned over the camping ground before landing on one of the nearby trees. There it sat with the pointy tip stabbed into the wood. You walked up and saw the letters etched deep into the bark. There was no cliché arrowed heart surrounding the sharply written ‘R’ and your own first initial. Instead, Ronin had craved little triangle devil horns and a swirling tail around the letters. 

This was going to be an interesting summer job.

[radioactivatedspider]

Deal With The Devil

Main Masterlist Supernatural Masterlist

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Pairings; Dean Winchester x Reader

Genre; Supernatural Drama, Angst, Tragedy, Romance (Bittersweet)

Warnings; Character Death (temporary), Blood and Injury, Grief and Emotional Distress, Demonic Pact / Crossroads Deal, Implied Afterlife / Hell Consequences, Canon-Typical Violence and Themes

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Dean loses the one person he can't live without. Grief-stricken and desperate, he returns to the crossroads to make one more deal—no matter the cost. She comes back. He pays the price. And she never finds out.

486 words

The Impala was too quiet.

Dean sat behind the wheel, fingers locked around the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He hadn’t turned the engine off. The low purr of Baby’s motor filled the void she left behind. Still warm blood stained his jeans. Hers.

Y/N had died in his arms.

A ghoul, a hunt gone sideways, one second too late. Her eyes had locked with his in those final moments—glassier than he’d ever seen them, full of pain, and worse—peace. Like she knew. Like she accepted it.

Dean hadn’t.

He still didn’t.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, voice cracking. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. “This isn’t how this goes. Not you. Not you, sweetheart.”

Sam had tried to stop him. Told him they couldn’t open that door again—no deals, no crossroads, no Hell. But Dean was already gone before Sam could finish the sentence. The Impala tore through back roads like it had a vendetta.

Dean knew exactly where the nearest crossroads was. Hell, he’d been there before.

And here he was again.

Midnight. A tin box, a picture of her, her favorite necklace, and a few bones buried six inches deep. Done.

The air turned colder.

“I was wondering when you'd show up, Winchester.”

Dean turned around slowly. The demon had a pretty face this time—red lips, leather jacket, eyes that glinted like obsidian. But it didn’t matter. They were all the same underneath.

“You know why I’m here.”

“Of course I do. The girl. Pretty thing. Shame about what happened to her spleen.”

Dean didn’t flinch. “Bring her back.”

The demon tilted her head. “You know how this works. Your soul for hers.”

“I’ve done it before,” he said quietly. “I’ll do it again.”

She smirked. “You’re not exactly a hot commodity in Hell anymore, Dean. You're used goods. I’m gonna need something… extra.”

Dean stepped forward, close enough that she could see the wildness in his eyes. “I don’t care what it costs. Just bring her back.”

The demon circled him, humming thoughtfully. “You’re serious. You always are when it comes to love, aren’t you? Daddy issues and all that. Still trying to save everyone but yourself.”

“Shut up.”

Her smile grew. “Fine. You get her back. But this time, no loopholes. No sneaky Winchester tricks. She lives. You suffer.”

“Deal.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No hesitation?”

“I said—deal.”

They shook on it.

The sky cracked open.

Dean’s world tilted when he saw her again—standing in the bunker kitchen barefoot, wearing one of his flannels, holding a mug like she’d just woken up from a nap.

“Dean?” she said, eyes blinking slowly. “What—what happened?”

He crossed the room in seconds, cupping her face, kissing her like a dying man.

And when she finally pulled back, confused, smiling, alive—he smiled too. Broken. Relieved. Destroyed.

Because he didn’t tell her what it cost.

He never would.

Taglist: @star-yawnznn

[fleurfiles]

IDFC 2 | BILLIE EILISH.

୧ ‧₊˚ part one is posted !!

pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. happy ending this time | kissing | angst & fluff author's note. hello this was request by a few peeps so here it is !! word count. 1.3k ish ?!

tomorrow has come. and if you were being honest with yourself, you felt like a mess.

the mid day sun cracks through the open blinds when you’re awoken to the sound of birds chirping and your music softly playing from your alexa. your bedroom is tranquil— but it’s cold and quiet. you have goosebumps running up and down your exposed skin when you look at the clock realize it’s already three in the afternoon.

usually billie would be awake, slithering into your room like usual to sit on the foot of your bed and sing to you or rant about any and everything. and of course— you’d prop your head in your hands and listen attentively as you talked for hours on end. but she doesn’t come, and it’s abnormal, so you wrap yourself in a blanket and sneak through the door, “billie?”

her name hangs in the air like it’s a burden, and there’s no response. it’s pin-drop quiet in your apartment and it makes you cringe, because it’s never this silent. and even if billie wasn’t home, she’d always tell you where she was going.

confused, and a little downhearted, you slide your feet against the hardwood floors and enter your kitchen, popping a pod of hot cocoa into the keurig when your eyes rest on a sticky note that’s plastered onto your favorite mug.

“needed to clear my head. i’m hungover as FUCK!

love you. be back soon. — billie.”

you nodded even though she wasn’t there, folding the sticky note and placing it in your hoodie pocket. your lazy eyes watch as the hot cocoa dispenses into your cup— the warm, chocolatey liquid nearly filling your pink mug to the brim.

it was only your favorite because billie bought it. just like everything else you owned that you took a special liking to. it made your stomach twist when you realized that your whole life was encompassed by her. everything you did was for her gaze, you longed for her, ached for her, and it was sick and twisted and crazy but you were crazy for her, and it just felt so damn right.

you’re curled up on the couch now, sipping at your drink, even though it burns your tongue everytime you swallow.

it reminds you of billie. you can’t help but bask in her presence everytime you see her, and even though it burns to love her— it hurts you so bad, you’re addicted to her. and it’s not her fault necessarily, because she doesn’t even know, but you’re not sure you can do this anymore.

it’s been years, what could possibly go wrong?

you’re stuck, that’s the issue. you haven’t even told anyone about this not-so-little crush, and you feel like there’s only one person on this entire planet who’s close enough to billie to give you raw advice, but also has been in love with the same person for years and years on end.

it’s so stupid, you think, and your hands start to shake when you pick up your phone and open your contacts app, your thumb hovering over the number.

finneas.

but you feel like there’s nothing else that you can do, so you click the ‘call’ button and it rings out a couple of times, and you almost pray and home that he doesn’t answer the phone. but of course, finn being finn, he picks up. and speak of the devil, claudia’s in the background.

“hello?”

“hi y/n!”

“that’s claudia.” finneas’ laughs echoes through the phone, “what’s up, kid?”

you suck in a breath before adjusting your position on the couch to get more comfortable, “hey…i just really need some advice right now, because there’s some shit i’ve been dealing with for so long and i feel like i’ll explode if i don’t say something.”

finneas makes a little “mhm” sound to acknowledge your statement, and there’s a moment of comfortable silence on the phone when he begins to speak.

“i’m listening. well— me and claudia, is that alright? if not, i’ll kick her out.” his tone is joking, and you giggle across the line, “no dude it’s alright.”

“okay, we’re all ears!” claudia laughs, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i…i think i’m losing my mind,” you admit lowly, but laughing bitterly to play it off. “it’s about billie.”

“billie?” finneas questions, his tone more serious now, and there’s a little bit of surprise laced with worry in his voice. claudia’s gasp is audible through the phone and you squeeze your eyes shut, already regretting saying a single word.

you can’t even respond, you just bite your lip as your eyes flood with tears. you let out a quiet sob and claudia and finneas say nothing, but you can’t even blame them because the situation just slapped them in the face.

but when she finally speaks, claudia’s voice is gentle, yet coaxing. “what happened, y/n?”

“she came home drunk last night.” you whisper, your eyes stinging with more vulnerable, unshed tears. “she apologized for being a mess, for making me deal with her shit, and all i wanted to do was grab her and tell her she’s not a mess, that she’s perfect, that i don’t care about anything else as long as she’s in my life. but i couldn’t. i didn’t. and now i’m just sitting here, losing my mind because i don’t know what to do anymore.”

“how long has it been?” finneas inquires this time, and you throw your head back and let out a dragged groan when the realization hits you.

“it’s been almost six years of this shit, dude.”

“six?!” claudia and finneas speak in unison, sharing a loving giggle afterwards. but they know that this is serious and very upsetting to you, so their laughs quickly subside and they leave you with a second of silence before finn speaks.

finneas sighs. “y/n, have you ever considered…telling her?”

you let out a harsh laugh, wiping at your wet eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, “and risk ruining everything? yeah, no thanks. i’d rather suffer in silence than ever tell her.”

“but what if she feels the same way?” claudia offers gently, her smooth voice soothing to your nerves, “you won’t know unless you talk to her.”

“i know she doesn’t,” you respond quickly, shaking your head even though they can’t see you. “she doesn’t feel the same way. she’s billie. she flirts with everyone. she kisses people like it’s nothing. i’m just…i’m just her best friend.”

you’re so caught up in your spiral that you don’t hear the front door open. you don’t hear the soft creak of billie’s jordan’s against the hardwood floors. you don’t notice her until she’s standing in the doorway of the living room, her face pale, her eyes wider than saucers.

“holy shit.” billie says, her voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…but um…y/n?”

your heart stops.

everything feels so surreal right now that you’re not even sure you’re breathing. you want to cry, but no tears come. you want to scream, but your mouth hangs agape, lacking sound.

you don’t even move, you just stare hard at billie like she’s foreign to you— because she is now. the secret that you’ve kept from her for so long is now out, and she didn’t hear the watered down, bullshit version that you would’ve told her yourself— she heard the words raw, and there was nothing that you could do to make her forget.

she takes a step closer, her hands trembling as she shoves them into the pockets of her hoodie. you can tell she’s nervous too, and her face is so discolored she looks like she could throw up. she picks at the skin on her lips before she speaks softly, so softly you can hardly hear it. “are you… in love with me?”

you glance at the phone, still connected to finneas and claudia, and without another word, you reach over and end the call. they’ll understand— and claudia already texts you before you shut your phone completely off, your hands are shaking as you stand up, your knees threatening to buckle under you.

there’s no point in lying now.

“i— um…yeah.” you breathe, silent tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes bore into anything but billie. but billie stares at you, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to catch her breath. “y/n…i— w-why didn’t you tell me?”

you laugh, but the sound comes out bitter and sharp, “well…because you’re you, billie. you’re the most important person in my life, and i didn’t want to risk losing you. i thought…i thought you’d never feel the same way, so i just ignored it.”

she’s quiet for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor. when she looks back up at you, her eyes are glassy, her voice trembling, like she’s scared too.

“but i do.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you feel like you’re gonna puke when billie speaks. your heart sinks but not in a bad way— it’s just so surreal to you. she felt the same way?

“w-what?” you stumble over your words, in disbelief, “are you sure?”

“i do.” she repeats, taking another baby step closer to you, eyes locking with yours, “and i’m sure. i’ve loved you for so long, y/n. i just…I didn’t know how to deal with it. i thought i was too much, that you deserved better than…this.” she gestures to herself, her voice breaking. “so i drank. i flirted with other people. i tried to hide it, but it never worked. it just made everything worse.”

tears are streaming down your face now, and you take a shaky step toward her. “billie…”

she closes the distance between you in an instant, her hands cupping your face, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “i love you,” she whispers, her voice raw. “i’m sorry it took me so long to say it. unironically…years.”

you giggle, but you don’t have time to respond before her lips are on yours, soft and urgent, and it’s like everything finally falls into place. her hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss her back with everything you’ve been holding in for what felt like eternity’s.

when you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, her forehead resting against yours. “you’re not a mess,” you murmur, your hands tangling in her hoodie. “you’re perfect, billie. you always have been.”

she smiles through her tears, her arms wrapping around you like she’s afraid to let go. “i’m so sorry,” she says softly. “for everything. please, don’t ever let me let you go.”

you let out a small chuckle as she holds you,

“don’t worry, i won’t.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Keep Me Warm

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2.3k words Prompt: Thigh fucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, thigh fucking, fingering, daddy kink, Dean calls reader "babygirl", aftercare... A/N: Ugh, part of this actually got me there hahaha. Thank you and enjoy!

“This is what Hell is like.”

Dean shakes his head, bringing the lip of his ice cold beer to his mouth. “No,” he takes a swig, “too cold.”

You grumble, turning over in the bed and shoving your face in the crappy pillow in an attempt to warm your frozen nose. The blankets wrap tighter around you, too thin to help as much as you need.

You start to speak, but your voice is muffled against the plastic-y feel of the pillow’s fabric. “Can’t hear you, baby.”

You lift your head. “I don’t even know how you can drink that.” Perspiration dribbles off the side of his bottle and wets his hand. surely adding to the freezing temperatures brought on by the broken motel heater.

Sam is out trying to find some hand warmers or something to help with the cold, but every convenience store he comes across is fresh out. It seems everyone is struggling to deal with the below freezing temperatures.

Dean’s chuckle is gruff. “I’ve been dealing with this for a while. Cold doesn’t beat alcoholism, sweets.” You roll your eyes, emerging from the covers to shuffle over to him. You drape yourself over his lap, curling into him to siphon some of his warmth away.

“If you loved me, you’d warm me up,” you mumble.

Dean laughs again, “Oh, baby. I have a couple ways I can warm you up, but you’d only say that Sammy will come back any second now.”

You roll your eyes, turning to lay on your back so you can see his face. He’s looking down at you, his tanned skin slightly flushed with blood in an attempt to warm his skin. He feels warm to you—Dean always runs hot. He’s like a furnace.

His phone pings, and he grabs it from where it had been thrown into the sheets earlier. “Speak of the Devil,” he says ironically. “Says he’s gonna find a Walmart to look for a space heater.”

He glances at you, bobbing his eyebrows suggestively. “That’s a good ten, fifteen minutes from here.” He leans down, one hand dropping down to the top of your head. The other finds your thigh, squeezing it gently as he smirks. “I think that’s plenty of time to warm up, don’t you?”

You shouldn’t. Sam has to suffer through your relationship enough, if he comes back before you’re done, he’ll probably just wait in the car or something while he waits. You don’t want him to catch you again, especially not when he’s doing so much right now to warm you all up.

But the way Dean’s looking at you has always been hard to ignore. The way his hand curls around your thigh, his fingers dipping down to feel you squeeze them together, is intoxicating. You lick your lip absent-mindedly and let out a heavy sigh as you concede.

“Fine, you dog.”

His smirk widens, like a predator of its own as he leans down further. He lets out a low, deep bark before swooping down to capture your lips in his own.

You moan into the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sucks on your top. Your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair. He supports the back of your head with his palm, and you already feel warmer as you soak in the heat of his lust.

He doesn't even touch you at first, at least not where you need him to. He mouths hungrily at your mouth and at your throat while his hand paws at your thighs, groping and kneading the doughy flesh with a desperation that pinpoints just why the bulge digging into your back is so prominent beneath you.

“You're terrible,” you breathe, holding him to your neck.

“I don't hear any complaints about it.” He pulls a sliver of skin between his teeth, nibbling at it with an eager hum. You chuckle breathily, the sound nearly coming off as a whimper with the way it shakes. “Fuckin’ love these thighs, babygirl.”

You feel his hand stroke farther up your inner thigh until he cups your clothed pussy. He rubs his hand against you, eventually slipping beneath your sweatpants to feel how wet you've already become.

He groans against your lips, sliding two fingers between your folds to gather your arousal on them. “Jesus, you're fucking soaked.”

You arch your back slightly, drawing his attention to your chest as he smirks. Dean's hand continues to rub up against your clit, teasing you and coaxing you as you keen into his touch.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” he instructs, his voice rough with his growing lust. You do, tugging it over your head, despite the cold of the room. You hardly feel it—you can steadily feel your body heat rising higher and higher under his hands, one on your aching clit and the other petting your hair.

Your nipples peak immediately against the chilly air. Dean leans down and laps at them, sucking them between his lips as his hot mouth makes you shudder. His tongue licks greedily over the peak, his teeth occasionally grazing and making your breath hitch.

Your hand presses against his belly, feeling the curves of his abs beneath your palm with appreciative fingers. You lift his shirt clumsily, pressing your mouth to his skin. You warm him with your mouth and hands as he warms you, keening into his touch and smiling every time his belly tenses beneath your lips.

Your kiss becomes sloppy when he presses a finger into you, parting your pussy with a thick digit that has you sighing heavily. “Oh, Daddy.”

His lips curl around your nipple. He sucks on it, pulling it taut before letting it slip out with a smack. “You like that, baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You spread your legs farther apart, inviting him in. He groans, pulling his fingers out of you just to pull your sweatpants off. He prods at you again before shoving then back inside at a new angle, thrusting his finger deeper inside of you and curling until you gasp. “Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues to support your head in one hand as the other keeps fucking into you. When a second finger stretches you even more, he attaches his lips to your nipple again with a grunt.

Your lips part and let out a tiny gasp when he starts to circle your clit. Your hips lift up into his hand, your chest presses up to his mouth. Breaths leave you with a frugality you're not sure you can afford.

“C'mon, baby,” his voice is husky, coarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Let me feel it.”

You feel like you’ll burst. There's a deep gasp in your chest waiting to be taken as it curls and curls. Your legs tense, your belly tight as it anticipates your undoing.

Dean keeps curling, keeps coaxing. He's guiding you closer and closer, luring you, reeling you in. “You're so close, baby. Let go. Hm? Do that for me, baby. Let go for Daddy.”

It's an unfurling. Your eyes close, your brows pinch, your lips part as you inhale a sharp intake of desperate breath. The pleasure washes over you like it's trying to wipe sense from your mind and replace it all with unadulterated lust.

You grab onto his shirt squeezing tight as you try to stifle needy moans. “Ah, fuck, Daddy.”

He curls his fingers tight, almost like he's trying to take hold and lift you up, his thumb still circling. “Good girl,” he drawls. “That's my good fucking girl.”

He pulls his fingers from you, using the two, sticky from your slick, to rub at your clit some more before pulling away to smack it lightly. You shudder and shake beneath his touch, whimpering at every contact. “Yeah, you like it, don't you? Feels so fucking good, doesn't it?”

Cold forgotten, you nod and let yourself tremble as the high wanes to something that buzzes in your bones. “Yeah, yes…”

Dean leans down to kiss you, hungry and greedy as he continues to smack your cunt. He smirks every time you whimper, every time you flutter against his hand. It's somehow worse when he gropes your thighs again, his grip tighter than before. He kneads them in his palm, this insistent and possessive thing that makes him harder beneath you.

“Come here.” He moves you from his lap, lays you across the bed as he moves to stand. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, pulling a little chuckle from you as he takes hold of your legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So fucking pretty.” He leans over your body, pressing his mouth against yours, your throat, your collarbone. His hands grab at your thighs like a lifeline, squeezing them in his palms and groaning.

You pull his shirt over his head, rubbing your hands eagerly against his chest and his belly, admiring the strong, solid feeling of him against you. “You're abusing my thighs, Dean.”

He hums deeply. “I'm gonna fuck your thighs, baby.”

He lifts your legs, pushing them together and back. His hand rubs along your ass, the back of your thighs. A deep sound rumbles in his chest as he shakes your head and stares. “Maybe this is the real Heaven.”

“Dean.” You clench around him when he shoves his finger back into your cunt.

“What was that?” You shiver, and he laughs at you. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

You hear his buckle clink. He pulls his pants down, watching you as he goes. His eyes, usually green as apple, are a dark forest that soaks into your skin. It makes you warm, it makes you ache.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, baby?”

You nod, raising a hand to tease your nipple with shy fingers. “Yes.”

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles. “Good. You know what you're gonna do? You're gonna hold these thighs together and you're gonna keep ‘em nice and tight while I fuck them.”

You swallow thickly, an emphatic nod of your head outlining your desire for him, to please him, to be pleased by him.

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.” He says it as a reminder.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you—though a better word would be to say he devours you. He tastes your lips on his tongue and breathes you in like a flower.

You press your thighs together, watching as he takes hold of you, one hand stroking his cock slowly with a hiss.

You feel him slide himself between your thighs, your arousal wetting the bottom of his cock as it glides over your wet folds. He holds them close and lets out a long sigh at the feeling.

He starts out slow, like he's teasing himself with your warmth and your wetness. His brows knit together, his lips part with thick breaths.

“God, you're fucking perfect,” he groans. The blunt head of his cock presses against your clit, and a small whimper falls out. His hips jerk at the sound, quickening his pace until his breaths are heavy and shallow.

Precum dribbles from his tip and onto your belly, smearing along the inside of your thighs. You put so much focus on keeping your legs together that they begin to shake. His arm wraps securely around your legs, keeping your ankles on his shoulder as he palms at your breast with the other hand.

“Always so good for me, aren't you, babygirl? Hm?” He ruts into you, the gathering slick making it easy to move back and forth in search of his release. Each slide through your folds brings a breath from your throat, and each press against your clit makes you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitching. He leans even closer, forcing your legs back more as his measured thrusts become less steady. His breath becomes erratic, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I'm gonna cum, baby. You gonna take it for me?” You nod eagerly, watching with lidded eyes and shallow breath.

“Cum on me, Daddy. Please, I want it.”

His thrusts stagger until you feel the warm, sticky spurts of his cum painting your belly white. He groans, the sound deep and rumbling, almost a growl as his hands grab onto whatever he can find. “Fucking Christ.”

The sounds of your breaths fill the air. You lay back against the mattress, your fingers itching for him to hold.

Dean lets out a thick breath. He admires the sight of you, heavy-bodied and covered in him. He lightly smacks your side, a little pat of his warm hand that strokes you soothingly.

He lets your legs down, tucking himself back in his pants. “You doin’ okay?” his voice is a hum, a low and gentle sound that makes you grin.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But you're cleaning this up.”

He laughs heartily, walking away to find something to do it with. You lay there, naked and feeling much better but slowly becoming aware again of the fact that the room is freezing.

He finishes cleaning you up. You groan, turning on your side and pulling the covers back over you. “I think we should just fuck. I'm cold again.”

He chuckles deeply. “We'll put some clothes back on, and I'll cuddle you. How about that?”

You peek up at him with your best set of puppy dog eyes. “You'll cuddle me?”

He nods, his smirk curling over his lips as he gently shakes his head at you. He picks up his shirt to pull back over his head. You watch as it covers his chest. “Yeah, baby, I'll cuddle you.”

You hum, grabbing your shirt and pulling it on. Once you're dressed, you give him the space to join you under the covers. It's much warmer, and you're much happier to lay there with him.

When Sam comes back holding a space heater, his face scrunches in disgust to see the both of you spooning. “Ugh. Did you have sex while I was out?”

Without looking at him, Dean just brings you closer. You glance at him. “Fucked hard, Sammy.”

“Dean!”

[sekhmt]

DEALS WITH THE DEVILS.

CHAPTER THREE.

Roommate au! Jjk x reader

CW: brat taming, humiliation, spanking, group play, oral play, ethical non monogamy, breast play, dirty talk. MINORS DNI.

You ignored them for a whole day. Not wanting to face the world or - them. None of them.

Not when Nanami gently probed you from his whispers from the door to come and eat, not when Toji pounded at the door, not when Gojo called out your new beautiful pet name, not when Choso quietly asked if you were okay or when Geto came to offer you refreshments.

It was almost overwhelming, it is overwhelming as you huddled underneath your covers. You’re so damn embarrassed as you recall each kiss and the car ride home – stamped your destiny solid.

But you couldn’t hide yourself, not forever and somehow the sharp clawed kitten is now slipping into the kitchen. You were just so thirsty.

“Babygirl!” Is a delightful coo as pale arms with a gentle nudge to your neck. “We thought you ran away.” The white haired male is immediately wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you in close despite your blushing face.

“Thirsty.” You whisper attempting to pull away from the persistent Gojo as gentle hands place a glass in your hands. Greeted with Choso who has a gentle yet teasing smile on his face he forcefully smacks at Gojo’s side before his own protective arms comes around your midsection making you yelp.

His hands are cold, feeling your skin underneath the oversized clothes. So protective, so adoring, so, just so everything. “I missed you.” Is the soft admittance as gentle kisses are pressed behind your ear and you instinctively find yourself pressing your thighs together. There’s a heat that raises as you shudder in admittance that this was one of the bodies you remember - that made you feel so good.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You huff pushing Choso away as you calmly sip the water.

“Oh that’s fuckin’ it.” Is a voice as deep and guttural as gravel sounds standing. “You think you can do whatever you want with no consequence? You’re in trouble.” He smirks leaning down to your frame, the water suddenly choking your throat as you cough.

“Toji.” Nanami’s voice warns with restraint.

“No, she wants to be a brat. I’ll show her how I treat brats.” His aura is venomous, looming over you with a crooked grin.

Slamming your cup on the counter you stare back at him, one hand on your hip the other with your fist balled a single finger pushing against your chest. “Shut it. I didn’t even do anything. You’re not my Daddy.”

The entire room lifts in an uproar as Toji swiftly picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he brings you to the couch. You’re fussing the entire time until you’re bent over his lap, dangerous fingers yanking your panties down.

“Toji, don’t!” Is Nanami’s call but he knows Toji doesn’t care, nor will he ever.

“You’re going to count as I tell you everything you did wrong.” His voice is commanding and with pleading eyes you turn your head to look for help, but it is forcibly turned back to the wall.

Choso stares, unable to help his growing erection as Geto stares with eyes of amusement lifting his tea mug to his lips. Nanami is posed, arms crossed over his chest.

A firm smack comes down across your bare ass and you yelp in as a satisfying shiver runs down your spine. You feel humiliated, dirty and embarrassed.

“If you don’t count, it doesn’t count. You hear me, slut?” Is his harsh words as another calloused hand comes across your ass, gentle rubs against increasingly red skin.

“Y-yes…” you whimper.

“Dancing that way when none of us are near you to make sure you’re safe.” A harsh slap as you cry out in pain, unable to help the tingle between your increasingly growing wet folds.

“One.” You breathe out.

“Shoving our little cunt in front of any man that gives you attention.” The second slap is harsher, more affirmative and you can’t help your legs from curling as your hands try to protect the sensitive area. “Can’t hear you.”

“T-two.” You stutter out. Rough hands push your hands away, pushing open your legs to reveal your leaking slit. As much as you wanted to hate it, you reveled in the attention a bit too much.

All eyes were on you. Starving, selfish, wanting.

“And this is for letting that fucking brat make you cum on him before me.” A rough sharper slap is against your skin as you cry out in pain, in pleasure, the feeling of wanting to be owned.

And he was going to own you. Even when your teeth had sunk into his thigh as a quiet admittance of guilt, hips hiking as if they were in search of relief.

“Fuck Toji, can you just go slower? I just want to burn everything in my brain.” Is Gojo’s whine as his hands come across his pants.

“Can’t hear you, kitten.” He demands with a calm rub of his hands.

“Three!” You shout as you begin to tremble. Voice a muffled whisper as you released his skin from your mouth.

“Gonna cum from me?” He murmurs. “Without even doing much? What a filthy whore we have here boys.”

Grunting in defiance you thrash against him for him to easily keep you pinned. “Toji I think that’s enough.” Nanami sighs, averting the his eyes as your heavy pants fill the room.

“Not yet.” Staring at you coldly you realize his palm is staking claim as his hand smacks across your cheeks again just in a different spot. “Babygirl, you’re testing me.”

You’re trembling, entirely too much enjoying the attention, enjoying knowing that other people are watching as you choke out the next number. A rough shiver down your spine as you allow your spine as you release against him, cheeks red as you hit your orgasm unbelieving of your own body betraying you.

“Don’t let it happen again.” Toji responds with a soft hum as his hand comes to rub against each spot he’s spanked with a viciousness. “You’re not allowed to go out without one of us again.”

“Do you understand?” His tone is demanding a response but you’re so caught up in your own whirlwind of emotions – pleasure, pain, the satisfactory of feeling owned that you can only nod your head as whimpers fall from your lips. “Say it.”

It’s another sharp smack to your ass as your body twists, mewling in both defiance and pleasure. How could you feel so much at once?

“Okay, okay. I understand.” You mumble hands reaching up to rub at your tender skin. “Jerk.”

“And don’t cum without my permission ever again.” Toji warns with a smile.

“Aftercare!” Chimes the same one that got you into this mess as his gentle hands wrap around your body to pull you up gently. Gojo is all smiles until you’re suddenly pulled away from him.

“No, mine.” Is all Choso says as he scoops you into his arms.

“Honestly you guys aren’t being very fair.” He responds with a sigh as his hand comes up to grip your wrist.

“Touch her again and i’ll kill you. I said mine.” Eyes narrowed as he stares a lethal glare into blue pleading eyes.

“After all this time you’re still so mean to me.” Gojo sighs reluctantly. “I hate it here!”

“As do I.” Nanami sighs, glasses pushed over his hair while he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Choso with quiet eyes leans down just a tad to nudge his nose against your ear. “Your room or mine?” He questions with certainty, cradling your body as it calms down from your previous orgasm.

“Yours.” You mumble with pouted lips and his head turns to pointedly smirk at the others as he gently takes you to his room.

His room is calm and heavenly. Purple lights dim, the room with posters of those he admires you note as you’re laid on your stomach on the bed. He immediately brings out a soothing balm as you get yourself situated - arms curling underneath his pillow to bring it closer to your face with a gentle whine.

“Mm, shirt off.” You demand with a simple groan as you feel the weight of his body on top of your thighs. “Please.” You mutter weakly and he stares at you for a moment, completely astounded.

“Like a kitten.” He responds, hurriedly tugging off his shirt to bare his upper body as his muscles flex. He’s taut and hungry. So ready for you. “Stay there.”

You don’t say anything as gentle hands slather the balm around the angry red marks, kneading the flesh with expert touch. A gentle moan of comfort escaping your lips as need brings a warmth in between your thighs.

“You hurt my feelings, ya know.” Is his calm voice unwavering, gentle fingers caressing the marks of a punished brat. “When you didn’t say you missed me too…” it’s a soft confession, a gentle whisper as his body leans against yours, so close to your ear as goosebumps travel over your skin.

When your voice is mute, refusing to say anything do you feel the weight of his body off of you – he flips you on your back with ease. Just what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Worshipping hands glide across your outer thighs, his look desperate and needy as he kisses your knees. “Why?” He questions, sharp teeth sinking into your inner thigh.

Letting out a yelp you find your breath hitching, eyes fluttering. “I didn’t want to believe that I did those things.”

“But you did.” He responds pointedly another sharp bite to your thigh, leaving his mark with a seemingly like drunken grin.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur as you hesitantly sit up but despite that move you feel your body being pulled towards his lips.

“Can I help you remember?” He smiles, gentle yet warning.

Nodding your head sheepishly your nails dig into his shoulders as he pushes your legs open, tongue out lapping at your still creaming slit dutifully.

His lips are lazy as they press gentle kisses against yours, letting his tongue lap at your clit. Your body twists, hands finding their way into his hair as his rough hand pulls you gently against him. His grip is rough, insistent as he continues to lick.

He worships your pussy as if he were worshipping your body. Delicate hands come up to your breasts fondling them graciously as he laps - hungry, craving. “Mmph, kitten…” he moans into your pussy as your thighs close around him.

Almost there. Your thoughts scream as your hand grips the pillow, letting your lewd moans fill the room.

“Who am I?” He questions as a gentle finger probes your entrance, as half lidded eyes wander to your face.

You’re whimpering, too much in fact as your legs close again only to be pushed open again. His nails digging into your skin as you find yourself unraveling. “Please–“

“What’s my name?” He simply asks as pillowy lips find themselves against your clit.

“Choso!” You scream out your hips involuntarily moving forward to ride his face as he hums with enthusiasm.

“Beautiful baby.” He coos, his hands finding yours. Gentle fingers curl through yours as he brings himself to hold his weight above yours looking down at you with haunting eyes.

He wants you. Oh so bad you filthy thing.

“Rest now.” He responds with restraint as he kisses your flushed cheeks. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“B-but the others,” you’re immediately cut off with soft lips and you can’t help but to let your tongue lap at the taste of you on his skin.

“Hush. I’ll deal with it.”

The tendrils of obsession, of greed are wrapping its spikes around the heart of each man in that house. But they were for you too.

“Stay with me.” You mumble as your eyes begin to close, feeling your arms curl around his chest.

“Always, darling.” He whispers, mumbled as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes are heavy and you begin to doze off. No regard for anything. Feeling safe and warm in the arms that cradle you.

xxxxx

heavily based off of the wonderful writer @jinjoohaa.

please send me fic requests and or a message to be tagged in upcoming chapters!

[multi-mess-au]

Hey cup what were you asking bendy to do that got him worked up?

(Interesting au)

“I told him he has to go out in public for supplies, because he looks the most human” - cuphead

“But… he’s stubborn” - cuphead

Sorry for not posting again I’m not trying to be one of those monthly peeps but then again I’ve been monthly for awhile. Let’s just ignore that and say stuff I’ve noticed I’m not getting the asks need so if you want to ask you may and can but I’ll slowly continue the story moving forward with the rest of the plot~

[jiminomenon]

bratty beginnings

pairing: model! yu jimin x assistant! female reader

word count: 851 words

summary: in which, y/n moves to seoul with nothing but hope, only to face rejection after rejection. when she lands a job as the assistant to infamous model yu jimin, she quickly learns that dealing with jimin’s bratty attitude is harder than it seems. but when y/n unexpectedly fights back, everything changes—including jimin.

from my series: the devil wears prada

a/n: ya’ll please send ask/requests for this story, or even thoughts.

the train ride to seoul felt like a dream, the kind that y/n wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. the provincial district she had called home for years was now just a blur outside the window, replaced by the towering skyscrapers and neon lights of the city. y/n clutched her suitcase tightly, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. seoul was big, loud, and overwhelming, and y/n had no friends, no family, and no job waiting for her. just a dream and a whole lot of hope.

the first few days were a blur of job applications and rejections. y/n had applied everywhere—cafes, convenience stores, even a sketchy-looking karaoke bar—but no one wanted someone with no experience. the rejections piled up, and so did the doubt. maybe coming to seoul had been a mistake. maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

but then, like a lifeline, she saw it: a job posting for an assistant position. no experience required. good pay. it sounded too good to be true, but y/n was desperate. she printed out her resume, put on her best outfit, and headed to the address listed.

the building was sleek and modern, all glass and steel, and the lobby was filled with people who looked like they belonged there. y/n, in her slightly wrinkled blouse and scuffed shoes, felt out of place. the receptionist gave her a once-over before directing her to the 15th floor. the elevator ride felt like an eternity, and y/n’s reflection in the mirrored walls looked as nervous as she felt.

when the doors slid open, chaos greeted her. people rushed back and forth, shouting orders, carrying racks of clothes, and balancing trays of coffee. in the center of it all stood yu jimin—karina. even in the midst of the madness, she was impossible to miss. tall, striking, with an aura that commanded attention. she was arguing with a stylist, her voice sharp and cutting.

“i said no pink! do you not understand basic instructions?”

the stylist stammered an apology, but jimin was already turning away, her eyes landing on y/n. she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over y/n with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“who are you?” she demanded, her tone making it clear she expected an immediate answer.

“i-i’m here for the assistant position,” y/n stammered, holding up her resume like a shield.

jimin plucked it from her hands, scanning it with a bored expression. “no experience. great. just what i need.” she sighed dramatically, tossing the resume onto a nearby table. “fine. you’re hired. don’t make me regret it.”

y/n blinked, stunned. “just like that?”

“just like that,” jimin said, already walking away. “you start now. keep up.”

the first few hours were a whirlwind. jimin was every bit as demanding and bratty as the rumors suggested, barking orders and criticizing everything y/n did.

“this coffee is too cold,” she snapped, shoving the cup back into y/n’s hands. “fix it.”

“why is this taking so long? are you incompetent?”

“do you even know how to do anything right?”

y/n’s patience was wearing thin. she had taken enough of jimin’s attitude, and something inside her snapped. when jimin threw another insult her way, y/n turned to her, her voice steady but firm.

“you know what? i’m not scared of you. i’ve had enough of your attitude. i get it, you’re a big shot model, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like garbage. i’m here to do a job, not be your punching bag. so either start treating me with some respect, or find someone else to boss around!”

the room fell silent. everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with shock. no one talked back to jimin. no one. the stylist who had been yelled at earlier looked like she was about to faint, and the photographer nervously adjusted his camera, as if preparing to capture the moment jimin exploded.

but jimin didn’t explode. instead, she stared at y/n for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to everyone’s surprise, she chuckled. it was a low, amused sound, and it sent a shiver down y/n’s spine.

“well, well,” jimin said, a smirk playing on her lips. “looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all.” she stepped closer, her eyes locking with y/n’s. “fine. you’ve got the job. don’t make me regret it.”

and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving y/n and the rest of the room in stunned silence. the stylist let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and the photographer muttered something about needing a drink. y/n, meanwhile, stood there, her heart pounding, unsure whether she had just made the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision.

but as the days turned into weeks, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found her place in seoul after all. and maybe, just maybe, jimin wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be.

[ficandkaboodle]

Okay so like. There was this one band led by this wicked talented singer — shut up, the name’s not important! Anyway!

The singer was just on the cusp of hitting it big when he got into an accident. Horrible accident, face all bloody, they say he lost an eye. Now, it was probably just shit luck or a shitty car. But also I’ve heard people say it was no accident — that, like, his band members had something to do with it like I guess maybe he was acting like a cocky dick because he was hot shit or something. Or there’s also a rumor he was threatening to leave the label so the manager had something to do with it.

…I dunno, dude, it’s not my job to know how this stuff works, I’m just relaying you shit. BUT ANYWAY!!!

So there he is: Laying in the middle of the road, face fucked up and he’s dying, right? Anger in his heart for being denied his big break, he made a pact with the Devil. And the deal was that if Satan gave him a second chance, he’d spend the rest of his infernal life offering the Dark Lord souls.

The Devil liked the sound of that, so he fixed most of his face, gave him a special eye to help him better locate the best souls, and fixed up his voice so that it’d be even better than before.

So now the revived star lurks in shadows and dreams, stalking victims and seducing souls with his powerful and hypnotic voice and his good looks before he sends them to Hell…

Oh and by the by? He likes virgins the most: Their screams sound the best, and it brings him back to when he was on top of the world — and on top of them. Hence the name,

The Virgin-Killer

You stare at Ronnie, only breaking eye contact as you slowly blinked. For fuck’s sake, you only stopped in for a Big Gulp and some snacks, not to have the pothead gas station attendant regale you with tales of some zombie rocker.

Still, a part of you somewhat commended him: Everyone else changed how they acted around you. But not Reeferman Ronnie. He was the same weirdass he’d been since high school, whenever that was.

You gave your slushee an unimpressed slurp.

“M’kaayyy…And you’re telling me this becaaauusseee?” you inquired.

At this, Ronnie shrugged. “‘S about that time of year.”

“What, Halloween? It’s every year.”

“Nah.” This time, he shook his greasy head. “Hunter’s Moon. It’s when the Virgin-Killer gets into, like, a frenzy.”

Okaaayyy time to go. You gave him a non-committed nod and slid your change off the counter.

“You have a good one, Ronnie,” you uttered as you made your way to the door. As it beeped upon being opened, however, you heard him call out:

“Listen out for weird music.”

You froze, letting the chilled October air in and the smell of cigarettes and sweaty hotdogs out.

“Or don’t listen, I dunno, it’s weird,” Ronnie trailed. When you turned to look at him, you recognized not an expression of knowing something, but more so just that of someone thinking harder than what their brain had the capacity to commit to.

“What?” you asked.

For the umpteenth time in however many minutes, the pothead shrugged.

“The music thing: They say when you start hearing weird music, it means he’s comin’ atcha.”

You didn’t feel the cold wetness of your cup in your palm anymore. In fact, you’d only just caught your grip closing in on it just in time.

You’d had enough of this. You just. Wanted. A Big Gulp.

“Goodnight, Ronnie,” you said again, firmly. You made sure to close the door before you could catch anything else the local wack job had to say.

You couldn’t get back into your car quick enough before you slammed it shut and pressed your head against the headrest.

In the quiet of the car, you heard nothing. Nothing but your own mind, fumbling over words, replaying what Ronnie had said. Replaying what Nessa had said at the beginning of the month.

You let a few notes slip in before giving them a paranoid pause. Superstition had never been the most impressionable thing on you, but that dumb and vulnerable part of you told you to take it easy. Just in case.

But on the other hand, the tune she tried to him to you when inquired was one of the only things you had left of her. You felt entitled to those notes, however odd or off-key it might’ve been in Nessa’s shaky voice when she’d uttered them to you.

…A disgruntled scoff and the slam oh your fist rattled both the silence and your clunker of a car.

You just! Wanted! A Big Gulp! Well, you had your damn Big Gulp. So now you could go home.

With the key turned in the ignition, Old Betty growled to life. Homeward bound.

You fiddled with the dial of the radio to clear the silence before landing on something definitely not weird or unfamiliar.

“Hungry Like the Wolf” rumbled out of Betty’s seams as you drove into the night. From now on, you weren’t stopping at that 711.

(I thought I’d play around with The Idea 🫣)

[bullet-prooflove]

Dean Winchester. Coat, Cheese, Flowers.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @private-jett @cosmic-psychickitty

Prequel to:

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Six Pack (NSFW) - You realise the man waiting for you isn't Dean Winchester.

Memories (NSFW) - Michael invades your home whilst you're away.

Sweet Dreams - Dean thinks about how this all started.

Deals With the Devil (feat: Michael)- You wake up with an angel in your bed.

Dean doesn’t intend to fall in love in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s something that just happens after he starts hearing rumours about strange attacks up in the National Park.

You know the instant he turns up at the ranger station to investigate the circumstances that he’s a hunter. He has the same demeanour as the first one you met a few years ago, similar features. He’s surprised when you call him out on it, more so when you agree to take him up to the Fire Tower with you.

“There’s more to being a forest ranger up here isn’t there?” He had said, standing in front of the open weapons cabinet surveying the small arsenal. It’s certainly not the usual shit you see out here in the wilderness, silver bullets, long range rifles, military grade explosives. That’s just some of the interesting paraphernalia you have stored away in there.

“There’s lot of power up here on the mountain, it attracts things.” You had told him as you picked out a flare gun and a couple of blocks of C4. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first monster hunt.”

It’s refreshing being open with someone about the work he does. You spend the evening sharing a mini charcuterie board that you manage to pull together with some cheese, jerky and crackers, swapping stories about your exploits. The attraction starts then he thinks, because you’re pretty, funny and a complete badass. The shit you’ve dealt with on this mountain, it almost makes him quake in his boots. He wants to ask you how this all started for you but then you both hear the cries for help and a scratching at the door and it’s hunting time.  

It’s five hours later that you return to the Fire Tower, the both of you a little worse for wear. Your coat is shredded, there’s mud smeared across your cheek, your hair is a mess and the scent of motor oil clings to you from the C4. Dean isn’t in a much better state. He’s bleeding from a gash in his hairline and there’s a three inch slice up his forearm that you’ve managed to patch up with moss and strips from your ruined jacket.

It turns out there wasn’t just one Wendigo, there were two. It had been a fight to the death before you’d managed to trap them in the abandoned mine shaft they’d been using as a nest before activating the C4.

You’re both still hopped up on adrenaline when you get back to the Fire Tower, usually you’d take it out on the punch bag outside out then then Dean kisses you and you spend the next two hours working it out in other ways. You end up watching the sunrise together with a cup of coffee on the balcony, you wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

He’s regretful when he has to leave. Usually he has no problem hitting and quitting but there’s reluctance in him because the two of you have shared something special up here, something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“Call me alright?” He says as he writes his number on a post it note. “If you get in over your head and I promise you, I’ll come running.”

“I have a whole team of rangers who do the same sort of shit that I do, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You tell him, tucking it into your trouser pocket.

He gets the message loud and clear. You’re strong, independent, you don’t need him, not really and somehow that makes Dean want you even more.

The next time he’s travelling through Tennessee, he ditches Sam and drops by Gatlinburg, just to check in, see how things are going on the mountain. He’s barely half way down Main Street when he catches sight of you stepping out of the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers, cradled in your arm. You’re wearing  jeans that hug your ass in a way that has him groaning and a brown leather jacket over an ACDC t-shirt.

You don’t react when the black Impala pulls up alongside of you, it isn’t until Dean calls your name that you realise someone’s trying to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds before tilting your head towards the wound down window, surprised to see Dean Winchester sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hey.” Dean says with that handsome smile of his. “Need a ride?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yatsurinamikaze]

Swan and Shadow [Sakusa Kiyoomi x Miya!Reader]

Summary: Where the brooding Sakusa Kiyoomi unknowingly falls in love with the Miya sister. What happens next?

Chapter 7 [Masterlist]

Sakusa stands stiffly at the edge of your hospital bed, arms crossed, his usual deadpan expression somehow more unreadable than ever. He has survived brutal matches, intense training sessions, and Atsumu’s relentless presence for years—but this? This feels like an entirely new kind of battle.

“Yer the Twinkie everyone’s chatting about at the facility?!” Atsumu shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at you. Osamu, looking completely done, elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up, Tsumu.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. That’s me. ”

Osamu exhales, his voice softer. “Ya feelin’ better?” as her puts his hand over your head and ruffles your hair gently.

You gesture vaguely at the IV line. “Morphine says yes. My ankle says absolutely not.”

Atsumu hums. Then, suddenly, he whips his head toward Sakusa. His previous disbelief vanishes, replaced by a dramatic gasp as he practically lunges at him. “OMI-OMI, MY MAN! YA’ SAVED OUR BABY SISTER!”

Sakusa jerks back at the unwanted contact, his disgusted expression borderline offended. “Don’t touch me.” But Atsumu is already holding both of Sakusa’s hands, shaking them wildly as if they’re old war comrades.

“We owe ya, man! Anything ya need—food, drinks, a free meal at the shop—hell, even Osamu can cook ya somethin’—”

“I’m not doin’ that,” Osamu interjects lazily.

Sakusa looks seconds away from kicking Atsumu across the room. “ 'S no big deal.”

But as Atsumu continues dramatically thanking him, his voice blaring through the room, your eyes find Sakusa’s. And there it is again.

That pull.

It lingers in the way your gazes hold each other just a second too long. The way neither of you looks away first. The way something unspoken lingers in the air between you. And you know—he feels it, too. For a second, it feels like the world shrinks, like everything outside of this moment fades into the background.

“Ah, crap—Mom’s calling,” Osamu mutters, standing up. “C’mon, Tsumu.” Atsumu groans but follows him out. “No funny business, alright?” He points at Sakusa.

You roll your eyes, watching them leave. But the second the door shuts, the air shifts. Sakusa exhales quietly, shaking his head. “So… you’re a Miya.”

You smirk. “That a problem?”

Sakusa pretends to think about it. “Explains a lot.”

You gasp dramatically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes flickering over you. “Loud. Chaotic. Questionable life choices.”

“Oh, and you’re just the picture of stability?”

“Yes.”

You give him a look. “You wear all black like you’re in a constant state of mourning.”

Sakusa shrugs. “It’s efficient.” You squint. “Efficient?”

He nods. “No need to worry about color coordination. Always matches.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re a weirdo.”

Sakusa doesn’t deny it. There’s a pause, you breathe in and softly say, “Thanks for staying.”

He looks at you. Really looks at you. “It’s nothing.”

You smile. “It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Something flickers in his eyes, but before you can ask for his number, before you can say anything else—

The door bursts open. Atsumu and Osamu return, their faces grim.

“The devil and his minions are here,” Osamu mutters. And before you can even react, the room is suddenly flooded with people. A tall, hunky man enters first, effortlessly charismatic, his sharp features camera-ready. He steps towards you with confidence, his entourage and a swarm of paparazzi trailing behind him. Sakusa feels the shift in energy immediately.

The man reaches your bed, leans down, and kisses your forehead for the flashing cameras.

You smile—awkward, forced.

He cups your face, his expression tender for the audience. “Are you okay?” he murmurs before touching his forehead to yours.

You nod slowly.

Sakusa? Sakusa is pushed to the corner of the room. Along with Atsumu and Osamu. The three of them stand there, awkwardly trying to process what just happened.

“What the hell–” Atsumu starts.

“Shut up,” Sakusa mutters, his eyes locked on you and the man.

The senior doctor enters next, practically beaming as he shakes hands with the man.

“Ah! Shinjiro Arakawa! What an honor!”

Sakusa hears the name, but it barely registers.

Shinjiro reads through your charts, nodding thoughtfully. The doctor gushes about the excellent care they’ve provided.

Outside, nurses giggle, their voices dripping admiration for the man in front of you - which doesn't go unnoticed by Sakusa.

“Will she be able to perform at the Varna in the spring?” Shinjiro asks, his voice warm but commanding.

The doctor smiles reassuringly. “Of course! Your girlfriend should have no problem performing by then.”

Sakusa’s breath stills.

Girlfriend.

Your boyfriend. Your ballet partner.

It clicks.

And suddenly, it’s too much. The attention, the cameras, the way everyone isn’t questioning this, the way the man in front of you so easily puts his hands on you, holding you like you belong to him—

Sakusa clenches his jaw. And then—he sees it.

Your eyes find his. And they’re filled with something that makes his stomach twist. Regret. Apology. A silent plea. You want to talk to him. You want to explain. You want to tell him, it’s not what it looks like!

But he doesn’t want to hear it. Sakusa isn’t sure what this feeling is. But he knows one thing. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. So before you can say anything, he turns and walks out.

And he doesn’t look back.

Yup, my heart is breaking too! :'(

[Masterlist]