#WOOOO BOY THIS WAS A LONG ONE

[vangh17a]

Woooo for longest update yet!! I can't promise each one will be this long but-

The boys are back in town >:)c

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✨Masterpost✨

[drarrargh]

drarrargh’s fic rec list!! fics that drarrargh recs :)

‘... A Little Insecure’ by tigersilver

It’s an epistolary! Need I say more? If so, I will say more! The Draco characterization knocked my socks off! The ending put a smile on my face! The conflict of the story is super small but feels super big! It’s really really good!

Dwelling by aideomai

Do you have a hankering for the most devastating plot twist of all time? Look no further!

Nice Things by aideomai

The first time I read this fic I was stranded in Iceland due to a level three snowstorm, and it kept me warm in the cold. Yes this is a true story

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by @letteredlettered on tumblr

Identity porn! Getting hot and heavy with identities.

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered

amazing podfic of Away Childish Things by RattleandHum

Look, look, I know. Everyone in the fandom has already read this. It’s one of The Drarry Fics of all time. But maybe somebody is new to drarry, or maybe it’s time for you to reread it. You know you want to!

The Way Down by @letteredlettered

Being friends is hard, being a person is hard. Less hard ons then you’d expect though.

Two To Shore by Lamplighter

Disregard everything else I’ve ever said. This is my favorite drarry fic of all time. Ever. They’re both in slytherin and they’re best friends.

Hermione Granger's Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi

Podfic of Hermione Granger's Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by Lazulus

Drarry road trip fic but like, everybody is there.

What We Pretend We Can't See  by gyzym

My favorite draco characterization maybe um ever.

The Loathly Worm by Selden

There’s secret identities, there��s a big monster worm. What’s not to like?

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl

My comfort fic that I cherish and adore in sickness and in health for so long as we both shall live.

It takes a Village by Saras_Girl

Drarry live in a village together, with goats and a magic trout, which I just personally really enjoy. 

Erosmancy by astolat

Erosmancy podfic by Lazulus

I come crawling back to this whenever I need a dose of raw unfiltered desperation.

Drop Dead Gorgeous by Maya

The dichotomy of extreme super silly situations and the most agonizing pining I’ve read to date.

An Emerald in The Sky by corvuscrowned

Timey-wimey

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre

Its important that harry faces the sexy sexy truth.

If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic

Draco and harry are just very good friends that are magically bonded... It gets me every gosh darn time.

Gryffindors Never Kiss and Tell by FeelsForBreakfast

This one never ever fails to pull me out of a bad mood.

hello goodbye (twas nice to know you) by tamerofdarkstars

soulmate trope!! woooo!!!

Matchmaker, Matchmaker by firethesound

Sometimes the situation is so dire that your house has to step in.

Who Shagged Harry Potter? by Faith Wood

the age old question! appropriately silly 10/10

And last but not least on this particular list,

Going Postal by dustmouth

Everything dustmouth draws is perfect and lovely. dustmouth’s ao3 account is sacred ground.

[fancyfade]

2009 era Damian reading

As I've been doing my 2009 era Damian reading, I'm trying to condense the good stuff and bad stuff, and things I believe are relevant for his character. These are in addition to what I assume is obvious (Batman and Robin 2009, the comic where he has a starring role).

Battle for the Cowl: this has how Damian becomes Robin. It's not necessarily good. Daniels really does not understand Damian, especially this early in his writing, but it does have some important context for things going down b/c Damian helps Squire save Tim's life, and we can see Dick viewing training Damian as something he is responsible for.

Secret Origins (2014) #4: This is a much more in character Damian becoming Robin, though fit for a condensed new 52 timeline that leaves some stuff out (like Damian's rocky intro with Bruce).

Batman #688 (Long Shadows part 1): Winick seems one of the early writers who does a Damian as he lines up with later characterization (views himself more as a professional assassin), so I think this one's good.

Batman: streets of Gotham #1-6: damian makes some minor appearances here.

Batgirl #5-7: Always take Damian's guest-starring stuff with a grain of salt, as often times writers just go with "how would an obnoxious 10 year old boy act here" without understanding he's a specific kind of obnoxious 10 year old boy... that said I do like some of his interactions with Steph, and I think it's incredibly important that we see Damian defends his competence based on his training, not on his blood.

Like he'll sometimes justify why he belongs based on his blood (which like... no one acts like they want him around), but he isn't going around saying "I'm better than you b/c I'm batman's son". he was trained intensely since birth (and that's why he should say he's better than you :P)

Batman #692-697: not a ton of Damian in this, and it is Daniel's writing, but he's a little better than he was in Battle for the Cowl. We see Dick training Damian some.

Batman: Streets of Gotham #7, #10-#11: love this plotline for him. Good show of competence and characterization.

Blackest night: batman: More focused on Tim and Dick, and Tomasi sucks at writing Babs, but at there is some Damian content that I remember enjoying.

Red Robin #11-15: as long as you read this one with your brain turned on, it's good for explaining some Tim and Damian stuff. Sadly some fans are like "woooo arrogant 10 year old gets beat up". Nicieza makes some missteps (frames Tim's thinking around Damian as coldly logical, when it is anything but and he is reacting from a place of emotion), but one can ignore those.

Batman #703: shows Damian's character pretty well in a default Batman and Robin adventure, and his relationship (or lackthereof) with Bruce and his dynamic with Dick and Alfred

Teen Titans #88-92 (including Red Robin #20 in a crossover plot): surprised by how well I liked this one. I think it portrays Damian pretty fairly, and we can see that he is trying hard, but hasn't been given a lot of support up until now (or even now, Dick kind of just drops him off with a bunch of older kids who all also have issues and are predisposed to disliking him XD). His dynamic with rose is fun and I think it is notable how quickly he does acquiesce to following Cassie's orders when she's like (at first) the only Teen Titan who is OK with him being there and assures him its not personal when she makes a comment he doesn't like.

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home: Batman and Robin: Has some nice Dick and Damian banter, showcases how they've worked together well

Batgirl #17: more damian and steph interactions.

I will probably add more (either editing this post or in a reblog) as I keep reading.

[arminsumi]

WOOOO I GET TO SPAM YOUR INBOX AGAIN WITH REQUESTS!! (jokes, jokes) BUT!!

armin with a reader who wears a purity ring 👀 can be nsfw, sfw, or a mix of both! all i can think about is him taking it and wearing it on a chain 😩

Pretty wife

Armin ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i see the vision 😳 i hope u like what i made of ur idea hehehe

🔞 minors don't read or interact / n.sfw / smut / 18+ content

WARNINGS — possessiveness, virginity loss, dirty talk, clothed sex (wedding dress 👀), creampie / unprotected sex, names (princess, baby)

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

Min was very quick to slip a purity ring on your finger. Once he got you, he got you; a Scorpionic death grip on your mind, body and soul. He was completely spellbound by you when you first met years ago in college, and he's even more so on the day of your wedding.

You can barely free yourself from your fluffy wedding dress before he's eagerly devouring you with hot, mouthy kisses all over your skin. Panting. Feverish. He's been waiting so patiently all these years in anticipation of having you all to himself. The wait almost drove him crazy.

That chain with a ring always dangled in front of your face and caught your eyes each time you and Armin fooled around in the past. Those tame touches and strokes never went too far, because he was disciplined — as expected of a soldier boy. But sometimes it felt like he was gonna snap. The feeling of that chain around his neck helped him refrain from completely giving into lust.

Because even though he wanted to ruin his cute girlfriend's pussy, he thought about how good it would feel to ruin his cute wife's pussy in the future.

So he waited patiently, like a good disciplined man, and then the day of your wedding finally came around and —

" 'waited so long for this moment, princess. " he pants. " o—h my god, ahhhah, fuck, that's so good. "

" 'miiin... " you moan softly, balling up your wedding dress in your fists, the white fabric bunching up.

He loves you. The way you look at him sets him on fire. He's so hard it hurts. The two of you have barely been married for two hours and he's already got his slender waist buried between your thighs. You and him fled the party like two horny teenagers back to your shared apartment.

Min feels dizzy when he swipes his tip between your plush, juicy folds, and nearly loses it when he pushes his sensitive head through your tight ring of muscle for the first time. His breath hitches when he feels the way you squish and squeeze on him.

It's all a bit too much, you feel too good. He has to keep taking it out and composing himself. His lips occupy yours with feverish, wet kisses. There's saliva glistening on his bottom lip, and crescent teeth marks decorate yours — he's always enjoyed biting you.

" 'don't tease... put it in all the way. i need to feel you. " you murmur, clinging to his bicep.

Your words make him whine.

" I don't mean to tease you b—aby — fuck — you just feel too good, i can't handle it. God, 'love it when you look at me like that. Like i'm the only person in the world. I l-love you — I love you. "

The noises falling past his pretty lips are purely erotic when he finally starts smacking his pelvis against your hips. Delicate hands with prominent veins running down it push back your legs so he can get deeper.

Such sweet dirty talk came out of him, of course, because he was a sweet boy from day one. Your love sweetened him even more. He's got such a big heart, and it's all yours now. He stares lustfully at the wedding ring on your finger, and holds that hand. His other presses into the pillow right besides your head, his torso in an arch over you.

" I'm all yours, 'm all yours — my body's yours, my heart's yours. You're mine, yeah? Say it, please, I wanna hear you say it — yesyesyes — f-uck again, say it more. Y-you're mine, mine... this pussy's all mine too, yeah? It's mine? My pussy, just for me? "

He snuggles his flushed face into the crook of your neck, his hips roll against you so erotically that you almost felt sickly dizzy on the pleasure. It's almost comparable to eating too much candy and suffering a blissed out sugar rush, only to keep nibbling more because it tastes so good. The soft squelching noises grew louder and louder 'till that's all either of you could hear above the sounds of your own voices and panting.

You feel him whine your name into your neck, and then his cock pulses like crazy in your squishy walls. He's pumping a creamy load deep inside, overstimulating himself a bit as he keeps rocking into you. There's nothing on his mind right now other than making his pretty wife cum; so he thumbs at your clit.

Cock getting frothed up with your cream, a gooey ring of his cum forming at the base as he plunges in and out at just the right angle to make you see all the stars in the galaxy. You sink your nails into his bicep and he loves the feeling. Lewd popping sounds each time he bottoms out.

" 'm gonna cum again, baby. Cum with me. " he pants, " cum all over me, let it out on me — make a mess on my cock y'know it's all yours now."

You can barely speak, you're just whining like a cat as each thrust makes you jiggle back and forth like you're made of jelly.

He rolls his hips flush against your ass, the plush smack of skin on skin earning a sharp moan from you. Just hearing his cock squelch as he fills you up to the brim is enough to make you tip over the edge yourself. And Armin's just admiring you; that's his pretty little wife.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[egoistars]

HIIII I just saw your post about your event and thought I'll be silly and request smthing ^_^ ok sooo first time meeting ness ! 😯 (one shot or hc whichever you feel more comfy writing! <3) have a great dayyy (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠) ♪

ACADEMICALLY SMART BUT EXTREMELY STUPID alexis ness

aka. how u meet ness aka academic rivals to lovers but ness dont gaf bc hes just trying to #play #ball

you meet him at quite a young age and share a few things in common

ill fitting school uniforms and the wandering eyes of any child

while you find yourself fascinated by the numbers written on your teacher's chalkboard, ness is folding dinosaurs and stars on pieces of scrap paper, mumbling to himself

you didn't mind him and he didn't mind you

you guys were classmates and that was that

but then middle school came around and you started acting like you had a stick up your ass 24/7 as long as ness was around

like wtf that mf almost never studies why is he at the top of your class...

suddenly you get distracted in classes because you're focused on drawing mini ness figures with fat x's covering his face and devil horns

ness sees this one day after your notebook fell to the ground and at first is like omg!!! cute drawing of me as a fantasy creature but then he was like wait what the fuck why do they have it out for me????

he barely thought about you until then but apparently you've developed a passionate hatred for him just because he scores higher grades

he still has no clue

you are FUMING

so you start studying even more if that's even possible

while you go to your schools library to bust your ass in the textbooks ness goes outside with a ball he managed to shove into his bag and starts kicking it around

ness: :D ball!!!! no school!!! ball :D

you: KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF

after one particularly hard test that you flopped (it was like an 80% be serious) you caved in and asked ness with help studying

he looked at the material and was like man idk it just makes sense

little boy thought you were going to punt him into hell like he does with his football

him, terrified out of his mind and just wanting to go to his football club meeting, sits down and looks at the material

you show him your notes and he quickly explains it but is running late on time

he gives you his number and says hes going to text you help

you went home that day like ???? that dude lied to me he isnt sending me shit ??? before it clicked

he does not text you because he does not have your number... he gave you his number...

so you swallow your pride and shoot him a message, begging for help a second time in the same day and on his end, he laughs at you a little but offers to call

you guys work on the subject for a good couple hours and before you hang up, you offer to study together for future exams because he's admittedly a good teacher

ness is trying to find a way to say "no thanks i don't care about school good luck tho XD ROFL LOLLLLL" but then he realizes that it's going to make his parents trust him a little more

he accepts and you guys go to the library together once a week

he finds that you're actually kind of funny and cool and not just a human bomb that's plotting his death

he tries to be slick about offering to meet more often

"oh... this unit is a lot more difficult than the last one.... you wanna heh.... come back tomorrow? *gulp*"

"ok"

"WOOOO"

one day ness told you he was going to try out for bastard munchen and you somewhat knew of them because of ness going on tangents about football

you supported him on it, not realizing it would cut down your weekly meetings

suddenly there was an alexis-shaped-hole in your chest but you didn't want to admit it to him

and for alexis, there was a you-shaped-hole in his chest that he tried to fill by training with kaiser and the rest of bastard munchen

yes, the team was filled with dicks, but none of them had the same foul personality you had!!

texts dvery day checking up on each other but it was nothing like hanging out in person

calls were better but still not the same

as soon as he heard about his first off day, he called you and asked to hang out

you tried to be nonchalant about it but who were you kidding both of you guys wanted to see each other again

although the directions of life the two of you were headed towards were almost polar opposites, being reunited at a stupid library table for the first time in months was all that mattered

[chknbzkt]

My god it’s finally done 💀 WOOOO

Damn I missed the whole month but I still got something for Mermay and beyond! Eclipse’s updated design (I may decide to tweak it a tad further but I had to get across how Not Normal this Mer is compared to the other abyssal horror of the Down Below)

More info under the read more

It’s a mix between an oarfish, gulper eel, viperfish, someee barracuda and god knows what else, Eclipse’s existence is unnatural and Wrong even considering the origins of Mer in general throughout history.

Let’s just say Willy Old Boy had a hand in things, by accident mind, but a happy accident in his case. And even long after the world has exploded, Eclipse’s involvement in tragic goings on years past is about to resurface in ways it really rather wouldn’t.

Poor guy has a real storm coming 🐰

On the end, we have a WIP of one of Monty’s first encounters with The Siren that Screams for the Storm. Fast spreading rumors about a behemoth of a monster migrating in the direction of Monty’s shanty town (the location of someone he treasures who can’t simply leave) saw Monty saddling up with Moon in tow to try and find it and stop it, or at least change its direction.

They had no idea what the hell they were getting into how do you even begin to fight this 😭

[yuttikkele]

i finished a new media so now it’s time for ATLA PRIDE HCs WOOOO!!!

so aang is unlabeled (and doesn’t identify as unlabeled either 💀💀) in all areas basically. he loves freely and doesn’t see gender or sex. he doesn’t see it in himself either. he mostly presents and refers to himself as a dude, but he found out he doesn’t mind being seen as a lady either. he’s crushed on katara and zuko during different points in his life, but he settled on katara. functionally, he’s pan and genderfluid.

katara is queer. she is the most unqueer queer ever though. she acts straight as a board I tell ya. she doesn’t really confine herself to labels much either, but she can tell you she was surprised at how much she enjoyed Lady Aang when that first became a thing.

sokka is bi. he probably thought men were supposed to marry women, but he quickly got over it when he got over his short lived misogyny. bi awakening wasn’t really a thing, he just sorta knew he always liked boys and girls. he’s had many crushes, but yue and suki are the ones that always stood out the most for him. obvi he dabbles in drag, that’s like sorta a canon thing. zuko’s autistic charms get to him and he ends up developing a crush on him.

toph is an aroace lesbian. she only dates the finest of women. she can tell she’ll read your heart with her feet.

zuko is gay like GAAAYYYY I don’t mean to bring accidental cheesy puns into this but he is a FLAMING homosexual, and I refuse to believe otherwise. at some point I said “I like zutara, but I just think atla is way funnier when in the back of your mind, zuko is gay.” anyways he’s gay and sex repulsed. zuko didn’t know he liked boys until he was 17, and he didn’t realize he was completely gay until a year later. he was very comphet and was always expected to produce a blood heir, and he didn’t think much of it. looking back, zuko noticed how he did find boys cute when he was younger and often avoided them because of it. he could sense that he and his sister were different, but he always thought that was because they were royalty. he only really started dating mai because they had so much in common, he thought that’s what was supposed to happen. when zuko, not long after becoming fire lord, realized he liked boys, he kept it to himself. a year later when he realized he only liked boys, he vented about it to mai, and she helped him through it. they broke up, but he still values her friendship. zuko finally gets with sokka in his 20s. yeah it took that long.

OTHER CHARACTERS THAT AREN’T GAANG THAT COME TO MIND!!

azula is a LESSSBIAAAAN that is a lesbian

I wanna say suki and ty lee are dating

smeller bee is definitely trans I don’t wanna hear it

uncle iroh doesn’t care. he loved his wife whatever happened to her, and he would also date a man.

EDIT: sorry just here to say that zukaang is endgame actually. they get together in aang’s mid to late 20s after pining for a long time. aang always had sorta an underlying unspoken crush on zuko, and zuko caught feelings when aang shot up taller than him and he realized aang got really handsome. and yknow. the fact that THEY’RE SOULMATES.

[fantisyoflove]

Don't Think I'll Stay - one shot

Hooking up with Remus Lupin. Not cannon. Everyone is alive and 25. [What could have been without the war]

Warning: period accurate misogyny, drinking, and smoking

This version of Remus by @industrations

[]

The boys had shown up right in the middle of the busiest time. James had come out of support for his friends, his girlfriend Lily home with their son.

Sirius had convinced them, Remus and Peter, that they should try hooking up with muggle women tonight.

-before-

"Come on Moony! Muggle girls are way easy! So impressed by stupid shit. Besides you can say your scars are from a motorcycle accident or like some fight or whatever!"

They were all sitting in the living room of the flat Sirius, Remus, and Peter shared. Remus was smoking by the window while Sirius paced dramatically while trying to convince him to go. He had changed his mind again. It was one thing to try and talk to witches, atleast then he could lie and say something cool like 'oh this? Yea just a run in with some dragons'. In the magical world his scars were easier to explain away. In the muggle world appearances meant a lot.

Remus sighed and walked over to stub his cigarette out in the tray on the coffee table and then threw his hands up in defeat.

"Alright, alright! I'll go"

Sirius pumped the air with his fist, jumped up and clapped, "Woooo!"

Dramatic.

-now-

Walking in the thrum of bodies felt overwhelming. They had pregamed at the flat but he was already itching for a drink and another drag. He motioned to the bar and James gave him a thumbs up.

Once he had a drink in his hand he scanned the crowd behind him to spot his friends.

James was dancing with nobody in particular but he kept a close eye on all 3 of them. If all he could do now is live vicariously through them he would.

Peter was chatting to one girl along the wall. She looked nervous and gave half hearted smiles as her eyes flicked back and forth, probably trying to find a friend or a way out. Remus couldn't put his thumb on it but something about Peter always rubbed people, women specifically, the wrong way.

Sirius, of course, was leaning up against a table towards the back with a circle of girls around him. Remus watched as he knocked back one girls drink and then took another girl to the dance floor.

Rolling his eyes he turned back to the bar. As long as his friends were busy they wouldn't be nagging him to 'just put himself out there'. He didn't think there was a 'one' out there for him. Being a werewolf he was lucky he hadn't been kicked out of society entirely. It was his friends that helped him. All he needed was them.

"Hey, umm is this seat taken?" A shy voice perks his ears.

She looks like she would smell like flowers and honey. He thinks dreamily.

"Oh ... um, no, go ahead!" He stutters as he pulls the stool out for you a bit and you take his hand to help yourself up. A curl of sandwood and wood smoke greets him surprisingly.

A cold sweat tickles his back. You are holding his hand. His scared and mangled hand. You are holding his hand and you arnt flinching away or quickly letting go to then wipe it on your dress. You smile at him and thank him and then casually let go of his hand.

Remus quickly turnings back to his drink, hunching his shoulders and arguing with himself in his head.

From the corner of his eye he can see you fiddling with the strap of your purse and then motion to the bartender for a drink but you are promptly ignored.

"Here, uh let me. What would you like?" Remus offers.

You give a soft smile and tell him what you would like.

Remus lifts himself from his chair, gives a wave, and then calls out your order. The bartender nods to Remus and you refrain from rolling your eyes.

"Thank you" you say as the drink is set before you.

"Remus" he says quickly

"Sorry?"

Remus coughs to clear his throat, "sorry, I said my name is Remus"

"Oh, well hello Remus im Y/N" you take a sip of your drink and try not to down the whole thing.

"Look I am so sorry," you begin and his face falls, "I mentioned to my friends that I thought you were cute and they made me come over here." You are fiddling with the strap again and blushing up to your ears.

"I am not very good at this whole" you wave your hand in the air, "thing."

Remus feels like he is on a Rollercoaster. His stomach had dropped at least 3 times and all for very different feelings.

"No, no! You are fine! I am also here under duress" he says leaning in closer like it's a secret.

"Oh?" You give a nervous giggle.

That seemed to break the ice and you both start talking. You talk about your jobs and school, some of his answers seem very vague but you just assume it's because he is also nervous like you. He tells you about his friends and points them out to you around the room. You in turn point out your friends who are still sitting together at the same table and don't even have the decency to act like they weren't staring. One even waves to you two.

You do roll your eyes this time, "sorry they can be so ..."

"Sweet?"

"Nosey!" You both laugh. Touches your knee innocently enough. Your friends had told you muggle men were easier to get into bed and it had been a long time since you had slept with someone.

"Would you ... I mean you can say no ... but would you want to maybe get out of here?" You ask and force yourself to meet his eyes. If he is going to reject you might aswell get it over with.

"Oh? I, yea I mean yea let's uh. Do you wanna come back to mine?" Now he is fidgeting with his glass and struggling to meet your eyes.

You take his hand in yours, "lead the way."

[]

Your friends give you a thumbs up and make smoochie faces at you as you walk past them to leave. Remus glances around, probably looking for his friends, but doesn't seem to find them anywhere.

You wish you could apperate because the London air is chilly but all you can do is hope this muggle man doesn't live too far away!

You both settle into a calm silence as you walk. He notices you shiver slightly and goes to reach for his wand before remembering that he can't use magic around you.

"Here" he says as he stops on the footpath and shrugs off his jacket for you.

"Thank you." It is so warm and smells like coffee and old books. You pull it closer around your neck and breath in deeply.

Thankfully a short 10 minute walk is all it took to reach his flat. He pauses at the door and realizes that his wand, which he needs to open the door, is in his jacket pocket.

"Oh um can I see my... " He starts

"Oh right sorry." You fumble as you take the coat off and hold it out to him.

He unlocks the door and opens it but then slams it shut again.

"Okay, umm. I didn't actually think I would be bringing anyone here. Would you mind too terribly if I clean up quick?" He looks so embarrassed and honest and man oh man you could loose yourself in those soft amber eyes.

"You want me to wait here?" You couldn't stop the tone of dumbfounded from leaching into your words.

He flinched, "uh yes, please. I promise I'll only be a moment!" He doesn't wait for your reply but hastily squeezes inside the small gap in the doorway before shutting it in your face.

You looked as shocked as you feel.

Muggles.

You roll your eyes again. You really should stop, your mother says it causes wrinkles.

You go to pull your dress down and your hand brushes against your wand strapped to your thigh. You hesitate at first but then quickly unclip it and stow it in your purse instead.

You here some crashing and banging around like he is just frantically throwing things into different rooms at this point. And then in exactly 2 minutes he throws the door open again.

Remus had used magic to clean up the flat and was still holding his wand in his hand when he opened the door. Thankfully it was the hand behind the door he thought as he quickly shoved it behind his back and into his waist band.

You cover your mouth to stop a nervous giggle from coming up. And walk inside the flat.

[]

Remus led you to his room and then sat on his bed. Hands behind him to lean on he just watched you with a bemused half smile on his face.

"What?" You ask nervously. He shakes his head and then hides his face in his hands.

"You don't seem real." He whispers

You set your bag down by the edge of the bed and straddle his waist.

"Does this feel real?"

The small gasp from his lips is addictive and you want him to do it again.

"No" he breaths

You card your fingers through his hair, it's so soft. You can now see he recently had a mullet but must have not gotten around to triming it back again or he was trying to grow it out.

His eyes are searching your face and you give him a genuine smile as you lean down and capture his lips with yours.

His hips roll into you as he gasps against your mouth. His kisses with his whole body. His hands are gripping onto your hips and pull you in closer. You nip at his bottom lip and he groans.

"Real?"

"Very real."

You tease your fingers along the hem of his shirt before pressing your hand against his soft belly.

"Wait" he sputters grabbing your wrist.

"If you're about to warn me about what you look like under your shirt, please don't. I like you, Remus, no amount of scaring will turn me away. Besides if you show me yours, I'll show you mine" you give him a mischievous wink.

He hasn't let go of your wrist yet but he nods.

"Could.. could you go first?"

You kiss him on the nose and stand up to turn around for him. He stares at your back a beat to long before you turn to look at him.

"Could you pull my zipper?"

"What?! Oh right yea yes." His hands are shaking but he grabs onto the collar of your dress and the zipper and pulls it down.

You hold the front against your body waiting.

Remus holds onto your hips and pulls you closer so he can kiss along your spine. You shiver and wiggle away to face him.

Part of you wants to do something sexy but the other part of you feels like nothing you could do in this moment would be sexy and you just feel awkward and your mind is running a million kilometers a minutes... you catch his eye and see the soft patient expression on his face. He looks so vulnerable even if you are the one almost naked here.

Finally you decide to just let the dress fall to the floor. Remus sucks in a breath and reaches for you. You let him pull you back into his lap as he kisses you again. First on the lips, then on your jaw, down your neck, across both shoulders and then finally, as he gazes up at you with those beautiful sleepy eyes, he kisses you between both breast's.

You let your head loll to the side as he takes his time undoing your bra and kissing you all over. You let out a soft moan when he takes your nipple into his mouth. The flat of his tongue swirling around it before the tip flicks against it.

Letting go with a small pop he leans back to look you over. "So where are these scars you told me about."

You giggle and take his hand to trace over a thick patch, the size of a baseball, under your ribs.

He lifts an eyebrow at you. "Is that all?"

"So far yea,"

He shifts you onto the bed and stands before you.

His eyes search your face one more time just trying to remember you in this moment, happy and carefree. He is afraid, afraid of what you'll say or do once he does show you all of himself.

With a deep breath he yanks the shirt off and tosses it onto the floor his trousers follow and he is left in just his pants. He hasn't looked at you yet.

"See we arnt so different" you say cheerfully.

His head snaps up and he looks at you confused.

You take his hand and pull him towards you onto the bed. He hesitates but then climbs in next to you.

One night won't hurt.

He leans over you and kisses you again. You pull on the waistband of his pants and he helps you push them all the way off. Then your panties come off and you breath catches in your throat as his cock brushes against your thigh.

This is really happening.

He grinds into you as his teeth graze against the soft spot on your neck. You arch into him and he begins to kiss and suck that spot in earnest.

He draws his hips back and then rocks them forward. The pressure slowly builds, "okay?" he hisses in your ear.

You press your forehead against his and nod eagerly. He smiles and places a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

One final thrust and he is sliding all. the. way. in.

Breathless sighs echo each other with every push and pull. Hot urgent kisses becoming more frantic until finally, finally, they fade into cries of passion.

Remus kisses you one more time before slipping out of you and rolling off of you with a satisfied groan.

"Brilliant" he huffed.

"Fuck" you say taking a deep breath. You lay there in your post orgasam haze just listening to the rain outside.

When did it start raining?

Remus scooped you closer to him, holding you against his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh in pure content.

[]

You are lightly snoring next to him when Remus hears the front door slam open and the drunken, very loud, voices of his friends. He holds his breath as he slips out of the bed, making sure to cover you with the blanket before he tip toes out into the hall.

Remus runs to the living room, "Shh guys shhh"

"What are you on about, Moony?" Peter slurs

"Yea what does moon moon have against *hiccup* my *hiccup* my..." James was holding up a very drunk Sirius who was unfortunately not holding up his end of this conversation.

James slung him onto the couch, "Moony, you always leave early and then I am left to tend to the children on my own!" He then drops his full body weight onto Sirius's legs.

Sirius groans but doesn't try and kick him off.

"I left with a girl" Remus said stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Oh fuck off, no you didn't" Peter snaps throwing his jacket at Remus. Remus watched it fall to the ground a good two feet in front of him, unamused.

James was looking back and forth between the two of them, he was feeling skeptical of Remus too.

"I did and all your yelling is going to wake her up so please keep it down!" Remus hissed.

Peter got a shit eating grin on his face and he starting shuffling towards the hall. "Well then Moons lets just see this girl then!" He made to run past but Remus catch him round the middle.

"Don't!"

"Oh come on Moony! I just wanna see her!"

"No wormtail! Seriously please just go to bed!" Remus shuffled side to side to block Peter's way to his room.

Peter got a green look to his face and fell back into an armchair. "You're lucky i had way too much to drink tonight to fight you."

Remus rolled his eyes, "Just got to bed."

Peter shot a look at James, "I still don't believe him."

James shrugged and slapped his palm down on Padfoot's backside. "Welp Pads, since you are so comfy here guess I get your bed tonight" Sirius groaned but couldn't even lift his head to protest.

[]

Back in his room you woke with a start at the sound of the guys arguing. Carefully you dressed and pulled your wand to apparate back home.

With a pop you are back in your flat. Your flatmates had all made it back home as well given the amount of heels discarded by the front door.

You softly padded down to your room, as you passed one of the girl's doors it opened to a man, holding all of his clothes in a ball in his arms, sneaking out.

You both made eye contact and he gave you a crisp solute and then let himself out the front door.

"Muggles" you scowl and relock the door once more.

[]

[cowboyfromh3ll]

OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

MX

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

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MX - Deftones

[pleasantangelpaper]

Video Killed The Radio Star (Stu Macher x Reader)

WOOOO I love the scream boys, I really do. So, here is the first part of my Stu Macher x reader!!! Let me know below if you want to be on the tag list for any future parts!

Pairing: Stu Macher x Female! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a bad relationship with a sibling, slight allusions to sex, but not really

Word Count: 1.3k

The video store: a world of fun and amusement, a place where horror junkies get their fix and young lovers find some background noise. It is also my personal hell. Ever since I got this job at Blockbuster video, I have experienced nothing but boring work shifts. The whole gig is so routine. Checking out horror movies, rom-coms, and pornos all day gets to be a blur, and there’s only so many times that you can try to mop the stickiness off of the floor before you start to lose your mind. The store I work at is a quaint one. It’s small in size, but it has a rather large number of customers. Most of the customers are regulars, the ones who show up every Friday afternoon to get their fix for the week, but sometimes I meet a straggler who got bored enough to finally use their vhs. Today was not one of those days. 

As I stocked the romance shelf with the newest chick-flicks and romantic comedies, I heard a strange sound, like a movie had fallen off of one of the shelves. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I looked around. No one seemed to be in the store. It was 9:30 PM on a Wednesday. Only thirty minutes until closing, and someone was in the store? A thought popped into my head, “Randy… I know you’re here… come out, what are you doing?” I questioned the open room with a tone of annoyance. Randy Meeks was my co-worker, and I guess he could be a friend. He was funny, but sometimes he just was downright weird. Not a word of response was sent back my way. “Randy, really, it’s not funny,”. Suddenly I felt arms grab my face and cover my eyes. “It’s not Randy,” a familiar voice sang. “STU!” I yelled the man’s name angrily, “You can’t sneak up on people like that, it's terrifying!”. He lowered his arms in defense, “Hey, it was just a joke, it’s not like I’m gonna hurt you or something,” he stated. I let out a sigh, “What do you need, Stu, I gotta get home, we have school tomorrow,”. “Ah-ah, the store doesn’t close for another thirty minutes,” the man tutted. I groaned, Stu is a great friend, but he can be annoying when he wants to. “Of course you would know that,”. I began to look back at the shelf I was stocking, unloading the last of the box of new rentals onto the cold metal, and making sure they were in alphabetical order, though I knew that wouldn’t last long. I knew exactly where Stu would be headed, as it was the same row that almost every teen in Woodsboro frequented: the horror section. 

“Do you have Halloween: the Curse of Michael Myers yet?” Stu questioned, flipping through the titles meticulously. The man scanned each movie with a sense of precision. There was always something he was looking for. I didn’t know exactly what his favorite horror genre was, because it seemed to me that he liked them all, and yet, he still scanned every movie’s cover as if he were picking a job to apply to. “Actually, Stu, we may or may not have just gotten our first copy, and I may or may not have rented it out already…” I started with a sense of anxiety, fearing that Stu would be upset by the fact that I had already rented the movie. I don’t know why I felt that I had to forfeit my rental, but something about Stu always made me give in. “But, you can gladly have it, uh just, uh, let me check it back in, so that you can check it out,” I started hastily walking to my bag, but not before my arm was caught by Stu. “You don’t have to do that,” his voice sounded concerned as he pulled me back by my arm. “We could just watch it together,” he said. I blushed in embarrassment as the man still had my arm in a strong grip, and because I could watch a movie with Stu Macher… alone. I’ve never been one to succumb to crushes, but… okay yeah… that’s a lie… I’m like totally infatuated with Stu Macher, but can you blame me. We’ve been friends since elementary school. Billy Loomis, Stu, and I have always been a tight-knit group. Of course, we’ve strayed apart a bit now that I have friends that are girls, but we’re still relatively close, and something about him just always pulls me in, and the cologne he wears is just divine, and his eyes, oh his- “Y/N, Y/N… you alive in there,” “ OH Uh sorry I zoned out for a bit there,” I internally screamed as my cheeks turned blood red. “So what do you say?” the taller asked as he looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Oh uh yeah! Of course! We could watch it tomorrow if you’d like, whose house?” I internally begged him to say he could watch it tomorrow. We hadn’t watched a movie alone together… ever. We usually always end up hanging out with Billy, and occasionally, the rest of the gang, but this could be different. “How about I pick you up and we swing by the store to get some snacks, and then we watch it at mine. My parents are gone, so we can take over the living room,” he smirked a little which made me blush a bit more. I brushed any thoughts of romance out of my head, he’s just saying that we don’t have to worry about noise…right…? I nodded my head, “Okay, Stu,” I said with a smile. “You wanna ride home, babe?” Stu asked genuinely. Even though he called almost everyone babe, my heart still did a flutter. “Well if you’re offering…” I trailed off. “Let me close everything up and get my stuff,” I yelled as I was already halfway across the store from him as I went to close down the register.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder as I braced myself to experience the chilly Autumn air. Stu opened the door for me as we walked to his car. His car was nice, but rather banged up. He’s quite the chaotic driver. I fastened my seatbelt and sat back staring through the windshield at the town streets as Stu drove. We made light conversation and talked about everything and anything. We brought up stories of past movie nights, and joked about the stupid things we’ve done at parties. As we finally pulled up to my house, I noticed a car parked in the driveway. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “What’s wrong?” Stu faced me now, his previous happy look changing to one of concern. “My sister’s home,” I stated simply. Stu knew all about my sister and everything she had done to me. He instantly put the car back in drive and started to drive away from my house. “Stu, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, confused. “You’re not going back there with her, I won’t let you,” he said with a grave face. I huffed and sit back in my seat, “So you’re just going to kidnap me instead,” I half-giggled. “Yep, you’re staying at mine, and you’ve got no way out of this,” he proudly exclaimed. “Oh yeah? What if I tuck and roll?”. Stu took that as a personal challenge as he began driving faster, his tires making a loud screeching sound. “STU STU STOP DOING THAT!” I screamed as the man laughed proudly at the fear he made me exhibit. “It’s just a joke babe, chill out,” He giggled. We continued driving until we finally reached the Macher residence.

[lewkwoodnco]

but daddy, I love him! - lockwood x reader

George tipped Lockwood out of his chair with surprising ease while Lucy started yelling at him. The two boys twisted around in their scuffle until George finally pinned Lockwood down and raised a fist above his head.

"Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't punch your pretty face right now."

Lockwood's scratched and mildly bruised face split into one of his winning smiles, his whimpering temporarily ceased.

"You think my face is pretty?"

George reared back for the punch and Lockwood started shrieking incomprehensibly while Lucy started telling them both off.

a/n - vfvhkefrhu woooo this took a little more time than I anticipated heheh but here it is! <3

warnings/tropes - lockwood x socialite!reader, lil bit of angst, mostly fluff/humour!

word count - 3.8k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Right here, on this plush velvet couch, was where they were going to find her body. They were going to have to scrape her off bit by bit.

It was a dim Saturday morning, and Y/N was rotting in her courtyard living room with two of her friends. Sarah was preening in the full-length mirror, trying to decide if her nose was too small. Hannah was sipping a mimosa on the sofa opposite her, going on about this boy from two towns over who took her to the movies - not that she would ever be seeing him again, given that he was below her station. Y/N thought it was a shame; she couldn't remember Hannah ever showing this much of an interest in someone other than herself.

So there she sat, some unknown frustration distantly bubbling away as she was bored out of her skull. Maybe it was an ungrateful thing to say, but her fashionable lifestyle could feel glamorous for only so long. It was starting to grow stale - as stale as Sarah's obsession with her nose. She stifled a yawn, her eyes wandering to the higher floors, when something made her sit up. There it was again, a little flicker of light reflecting off of something. She mumbled something about a powder room and clumsily got to her feet, excusing herself from her inattentive guests.

It took her a while to figure out exactly where the flash was coming from, but she eventually located the corridor down where she could hear some noises. She heard a set of footsteps approaching her and turned, nearly running straight into a lanky clothes-hanger of a boy laden with all sorts of gizmos, wearing the most horribly ridiculous pair of goggles she had ever seen.

He let out a short scream and clung onto his goggles, and she reflexively caught the supplies that slipped from his arms.

"Who the hell are you?"

He owlishly blinked through his shiny, reflective goggles a few times, before reluctantly slipping them off. All thoughts about his strange attire flew from her head, replaced by one annoyingly nagging thought - he had kind eyes. Soft, trusting, kind eyes, the kind that momentarily knocked the breath out of you.

"I am so sorry..."

Don't be, she wanted to breathe out, transfixed on his eyes. He paused a little and awkwardly gestured to her arms. She glanced down and remembered where she was, hurriedly returning his supplies.

"That's some, um, interesting equipment you have."

He gave a brief smile. "Thank you. Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood & Co."

She frowned. "Lock-wood & Co. That sounds familiar."

"Well, we are a very up-and-coming psychical inv-"

"Oh! The agency that burned down Sheen Road!"

The boy's face took a faint tinge of red, and she immediately regretted putting her foot in her mouth.

"I mean - uh - you have some very interesting equipment."

He opened his mouth to respond when two more figures emerged from the shadows behind them, a girl guiding another flailing and mildly bruised boy, both of whom had donned matching goggles.

"Lockwood, I can't see shit without my glasses. How much longer do I have to make an arse out of myself? 

The girl looked at Lockwood with an injured expression. "And you said these came free from Satchell's."

Lockwood huffed irritatedly at the other boy. "Snitch."

"Boo-fucking-hoo. I told you these wouldn't work." He sucked in a breath to continue but stopped short as he finally registered Y/N. "Hang on-"

"She's alive."

"Damn."

Lockwood gestured carelessly towards the other two. "My associates, Lucy Carlyle and George Karim."

"So you're here about the third-floor Visitor?"

"Yes. We received a report about some footprints..?"

"Oh, right. Those are just below my room. Here." She led the trio to the landing at the foot of the flight of stairs leading up to her room, which was stained with a quickly disappearing smattering of bloody footprints. The other boy knelt and considered the substance.

"Ectoplasm."

Lockwood turned back to her. "How often does the Visitor make an appearance?"

"No clue; I'm blind as a bat to anything supernatural. But the footprints only show up every couple of days, so it might be a while before they show up again."

His associates started examining the scene, and he bid her farewell with a grateful smile. By the time she had returned to the courtyard, she had been gone a bit too long to have her absence go unnoticed by her friends.

"And where did you run off to?"

"Told you, the powder room." She picked up a stray magazine, keeping her tone light. "I ran into some agents on the way back."

"Ooh. From Rotwell's?"

"Lockwood & Co."

Sarah peeled herself away from the mirror, mystified. "Who?"

Her giddy glow faltered. "An agency. Mr. Lockwood was there too. I was just...having a small chat with them."

"What for? They're working class."

"Don't be rude, Sarah." Hannah turned back to Y/N, a pinched expression still lingering on her face. "But...she's not wrong."

Y/N bristled defensively. "I'll have you know they're perfectly respectable company." Better than you lot, she wanted to add.

"Why? They're...poor."

"Y/N, we only want what's best for you," Hannah added in a nauseatingly simpering voice. "And that's...not...with people like them."

She tossed her magazine aside flippantly.

"You know, I wonder how the two of you bear it."

"Bear what?"

"Walking around with your noses stuck in the air all the time."

With that, she exited the living room, fuming. Yes, she was being childish, and yes, it wasn't news that her friends were prone to arrogance, but for some reason, their attitudes were particularly grating today. They hadn't met Lockwood like she had, of course they wouldn't understand. She replayed the feeling of watching him remove his goggles for the first time - unexpectedly climactic, and somehow...familiar.

She was sure of it. They would never understand.

For the next few nights, there would be a Lockwood & Co. employee stationed at the landing, complete with iron chains, flares, and salt. They'd bring along something to occupy themselves, like a book or a 3D puzzle, but it still felt nice to have a short chat with them before she went up to her room. 

With Lockwood, the chats always lasted a little longer, and maybe she stayed up a little later than she ought to on those nights, but really, it wasn't anything special. Little by little, they pieced each other together. She's restoring her father's old radio. He likes his orange juice with pulp. She has an older brother she hasn't talked to in months. He visits his family's graves on the first Tuesday of every month.

The more time she spent with Lockwood, the more she realised how uninteresting she found everyone else. Somewhere between their stilted whispers and muffled laughter, she started to desire something...more. 

"Hey."

Lockwood looked up from his magazine from where he was sitting cross-legged, encircled by his iron chains. He glanced at his watch, startled.

"You're back early."

She wrinkled her nose. "Wasn't enjoying the fundraiser."

"What about your friends?"

"They wanted to stay."

"So they let you leave? All by yourself?"

She bit her tongue. "Nothing wrong in that."

"No, of course not." As he was on the first day they met, Lockwood was quick to be an agreeable companion. But this trait added weight to the few times he chose to disagree. "But...nothing right either."

"It's alright. I'd hate to spoil their night." She sank onto the carpeted steps. "How's the investigation going?"

Lockwood glanced at the temperature sensor placed slightly outside the iron circle. "Temperature's dropping more than usual. Could just be because it's chillier today, but you never know." He looked up, and the moonlight illuminated his starkly pale face. "Do you not have any Talent?"

She hesitated. "A little. Not much, mind, certainly not enough to be an agent. But it was never something I needed to consider. I know people have it bad out there, but I'm just..."

"...too rich."

She gave a wry smile. "What gave it away? Besides the skyscraper ceilings, of course." They laughed briefly, before quickly sinking into a jagged silence.

"What's your home like?"

"It's...it's hard to describe. I don't think I could do it justice. You should come see Portland Row sometime. Have dinner with m-us. Us. Once we're done with the job. If you'd like."

"You should come see Portland Row sometime. Have dinner with m-us. Us. Once we're done with the job. If you'd like."

Lockwood was staring very hard at his sneakers. She found the whole thing highly amusing.

"Lockwood, I'd leave with you right now if I could. Really. It's just...my father..."

Her father would sooner have an aneurysm than let her 'play hooky,' as he would put it, especially with this less-than-glamorous ragtag team of misfits. While it had occasionally been a source of mild annoyance before, she never resented him as much as she did right then. And all that was without considering all the eyebrows that a guy like Lockwood would raise.

The faint moonlight was enough to make out the glimmer of his teeth, the curve of his face, the shadows settling around his deep-set eyes. She ached to know the look on his face, to know how he was feeling. The sprigs of lavender she had weaved into the hem of her dress were heavily perfuming the air, heady enough to make the evocative pull of his gaze strangely irresistible.

She peered at him through the railings, whose shadows marred his face, painfully reminiscent of a prison cell. She slid her hand along the bannister, gripping it firmly. It was moments like these when the rest of the house was quiet, too quiet, that she felt something flutter in her chest. Some compulsion flickering through her tendons to reach out through the railings, brush her fingers across his cheekbone, to have and to hold-

"It's getting late." Lockwood put his coat back on and started gathering some of his equipment. "I think I'll call it a night."

She hurriedly got to her feet too, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. "Yeah. No, me too. I should...I should get some rest."

Still, she lingered at the foot of the stairs long enough for Lockwood to pack away the chains. As he straightened, he turned to her as if he could feel that she was brimming with...something. She wanted to tell him how much she had enjoyed this night, and every night before. She wanted to tell him how happy he made her.

But she couldn't find the words.

"Good night," she said softly.

That was the last of their secret late-night rendezvous, as the Shade finally reappeared the following night and was safely put to rest by Lucy, along with any hopes of a budding romance. 

Five days after what Y/N had thought was the last time she'd lay eyes on Anthony Lockwood (not that she was keeping count), she was quite happily proven wrong. Lockwood and George had paid a visit to collect their payment from her father. 

She was not-so-casually lounging at the opposite end of the living room with her friends. The magazine she was holding upside down wouldn't have fooled anyone if they were paying attention, especially coupled with her relentlessly staring at Lockwood. She had been a little on edge when he had first walked in, hating how their last conversation had ended. But all it took was one of his easy, soothing smiles as he discreetly glanced at her to calm her down. She buried her nose deeper into the magazine as if she hadn't seen it, failing to hold her smile back.

When she had sufficiently composed herself, she peeked over the edge of the magazine to see the boys having some sort of disagreement as her father was writing out a cheque. Lockwood seemed to want to do something and George seemed to be holding him back until the cheque had been written.

As soon as her father had handed the cheque to them, George accepted it with a hurried thanks and a funny bow before practically running out. Lockwood took a deep breath before launching into some kind of monologue while occasionally glancing at her. Openly. Her father's face remained impassive. 

She put away her magazine, mystified as she tried to make out what he was saying, trying to keep the dread creeping into her at bay. Even her friends had picked up on something being amiss as they followed her line of sight.

Her stomach sank as she caught a glimpse of the hard look on her father's face. By now, it couldn't have been more obvious that Lockwood was asking him...about her. She wanted to shake him, yell at him to run away, but some kind of morbid fascination, or perhaps a deep-seated fear, had locked her limbs, forcing her to helplessly watch as the events cruelly unfolded. She knew her father, and she knew Lockwood would never be able to change his mind. At least, she was quite certain.

She snapped out of her haze and leapt to her feet, but it was too late. By the time she had reached the pair, her father was already bidding him a stern farewell.

"...and if you ever talk to my daughter again, I will personally make sure that you never find work another day in London."

Lockwood turned sharply and briskly walked out, his facial features carefully schooled, seemingly oblivious to her hurrying over, or her gasp of despair. He took long strides that made it difficult for her to keep up with him, and he didn't stop until he joined George outside, closing the wrought iron gate between her and him. She clutched one of the bars and he almost immediately wrapped his hand around her.

"Lockwood - "

"You should go back inside before your father sees us."

"Please, listen - I'm really sorry."

"It's alright. I understand."

"My father's never been the understanding type, far from it - "

"I know - I knew that."

"This is all my fault. I should have warned you."

"No, don't...you didn't know I was going to do this."

"We could have kept it a secret."

"And have you sneak around? Lie to your father? Y/N, I'm not above taking the easy route when the situation calls for it, but not in this case. I wanted to do right by you."

Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Lockwood looked as outwardly poised and calm as ever, but with the two of them this close, she could see the frustration simmering in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry - so mad - that he threatened you like that."

"To hell with my agency." He sighed and pressed his forehead against the gate, lowering his eyes to where their hands were clasped together in some pathetic pseudo-embrace. "I know how much his approval means to you. I just wish I could have gotten that."

They were silent for a moment. There was only a gentle breeze but no rustling leaves, and even George seemed sorry for his best friend. It was quiet enough to feel like they could hear each other's heartbeat but from opposite sides of the gate. 

"I'm still sorry."

Lockwood bowed his head. "So am I."

He brushed his lips against her knuckles before pulling his fingers out of her palm and walking out of her life. She watched the two of them walk away, unable to leave the gate and come to terms with what had happened. For a moment there, before her father's expression had shifted, she had felt a glimmer of hope for her happy ending.

But reality had struck, and now all she could do was go up to her room, walk through the empty landing, and sob into her pillow as her heart screamed for the life she ached for so desperately.

She allowed herself the day to grieve, but by nightfall, she had already started plotting her next steps. The next day, she decided to broach the topic at the breakfast table, where her friends were already seated, whispering furiously until she walked in. She sat opposite her father as usual, who was reading the day's newspaper.

"Dad. I want to talk about yesterday. With - with Lockwood."

He gave no indication of having heard her. She could feel her friends' hawk-eye stares boring into her skin. Against her better judgment, she pressed on.

"I think...you should give him a second chance."

She could practically hear her friends salivating in excitement, flinching as her father set the paper down. He had a bit of a temper, no more than her, but it was never unwarranted.

"And why is that?"

"He may not have much, but he's capable, hard-working, resilient-"

"I know exactly the type of person he is, and before yesterday I thought you did too. Or have you forgotten Sheen Road?"

She nervously fidgeted with the buttons on her dress, suddenly feeling trapped and suffocated. This was going to be an uphill battle, she could see that, now that her blaze of self-righteousness was beginning to fade. "That was a one-off," she mumbled.

"Not quite. I rang up DEPRAC afterwards, and they said in no uncertain terms that his agency was one good accident away from being shut down. He's known to behave recklessly and rarely per the law - "

"Have you stopped to think why he might act this way? You've spoken to him yourself - doesn't seem the irrational type, does he?"

He sighed irritatedly.

"Is this really the type of person you want to throw your whole life away for? To tarnish your reputation?"

"It's my life and it's my name. If I wish to burn my life to the ground or throw my name in the mud, that's my choice. You don't get a say in that."

"To do all this over a washed-up, good-for-nothing-"

"But Daddy, I love him!"

"I don't - "

"And I'm having his child."

Sarah shrieked and dropped her compact. Even Hannah was rendered speechless, nervously pulling at her braid. Her father's eyes looked as though they were about to fall out of his head. An uncomfortable, prickling silence followed.

"Okay, I'm not, but you should see your faces."

Sarah gave a dramatic sigh of relief as Hannah released her braid. "Oh my, what a mess-"

"Don't you start." She turned back to her father, fresh out of all the hope and ammunition she had walked into the room with. "Please, Daddy. Never...never once have I complained about any of your rules. Can't I-" her voice broke off as she struggled to hold back a sob. "Can't I please just have this one thing?"

Her father looked unmoved.

"You listen to me, Y/N - stay away from him."

She glanced around the room desperately, trying to figure one last way out. One last way out. That was all she needed.

She found it.

"Fine. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is crazy. Maybe...maybe he is bad news."

She stood up, wrenching her anxious fingers away from her buttons, poised to run out of the room.

"But I love him anyway."

Lucy and Lockwood were at Portland Row going over the floor plans of the house of their next case. Lucy was trying her best to keep Lockwood on task, but she had never seen him this disinterested in their work. 

She was struggling to hold his attention while he was fidgeting with a pen not very skillfully when they heard an insistent tapping on their kitchen window. They looked up to see Y/N waving at them frantically, gesturing towards the front door. Lockwood leapt up from their kitchen table, nearly stabbing himself with the pen, and joined her outside. There was something very nervous about Y/N's body language, especially since she started talking a mile a minute as soon as Lockwood stepped out.

"God, your eyebags look horrendous in the light. Do you ever-?"

The door shut behind the two of them. Lucy waited at the table for a minute or so, but once it became apparent they weren't about to finish anytime soon, she fetched a book and started to read. About ten minutes later, the front door opened again, but this time it was George returning from the Archives.

"Oh, George, can you tell Lockwood to come back inside?"

"What?"

"Lockwood."

"Where?"

"Outside."

"...outside where?"

"Outside, George. Don't be daft."

George stared at her cluelessly.

"He is still outside...?"

The realisation hit them both at once as they tripped over each other on their way to the front door. They looked out into the half-empty street, and the empty parking space in front of their house.

"George," Lucy asked, feeling majorly peeved by now. "Where is the car we rented for the weekend?"

Over the next month, neither Lucy nor George heard a word from Lockwood. After a particularly intense discussion that day, they decided not to alarm anyone by filing a missing person's report. But he had been absent from public view for a suspiciously long time, and Barnes was starting to find the story they concocted about Lockwood's debilitating illness less and less convincing.

Lucy and George had just arrived home after their latest case, which they were lucky enough to finish early. Lucy flicked on the kitchen light and there, sitting at the kitchen table, as he was nearly a month back, was Lockwood. He looked a little taller and a little less gaunt than they remembered. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, speechless, until the two of them launched themselves at him.

George tipped Lockwood out of his chair with surprising ease while Lucy started yelling at him. The two boys twisted around in their scuffle until George finally pinned Lockwood down and raised a fist above his head.

"Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't punch your pretty face right now."

Lockwood's scratched and mildly bruised face split into one of his winning smiles, his whimpering temporarily ceased.

"You think my face is pretty?"

George reared back for the punch and Lockwood started shrieking incomprehensibly while Lucy started telling them both off.

"Wait - WAIT - you'll crumple the invites!"

"What invites?"

"To a - uh - how do I put this..."

"Spit it OUT - "

"Wedding!"

"Whose?"

Lockwood brought his arms down from where he was shielding his face, smiling bashfully. The three of them exchanged looks ranging from congratulatory to homicidal.

"What about -"

"He came around. We had lunch with him earlier."

"Wow. That's...congratulations. I just can't believe..."

"I know, we can't either."

"...that you didn't come straight home?"

"Geo- look, George, I wanted to, believe me, I - not the face, NOT THE -"

TAGLIST: @neewtmas @ahead-fullofdreams @mitskiswift99 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @elenianag080 @mohinithoughts @avdiobliss @snoopyluver20 @mischivana @dangelnleif

[brighttears]

Cleardune Chapter 1: Petunia

Joel Miller x f!reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Today, you feel just as dead as the saloon is. Then, a cowboy strolls in, and at first he’s just one of those passersby that roll through town, but once you see him, you’re like a deer in the headlights. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and you can’t get him out of your head. After “running into him” after you get off of work, he invites you for a night ride. Of course, you oblige. 

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Drinking, emotionally neglectful/absent father, mention of being hit by father, mention of reader’s mother dying, kinda touch starved reader

A/n: woooo lets get this party started yeehaw

Series masterlist

—

The pianist is playing his tenth rendition of the same piece you've heard that many times already today, and you feel like you could melt into the floor. If it stays this slow here at the saloon, you just might. 

“‘Nother.” Demands the town drunk, Henry, though it’s barely past noon. Far before the sun sets, he’ll be carried out of here. Still, you pour him another glass, and watch him twirl it in his hand before taking a long sip. 

The bar is empty except for him and a couple regulars playing cards quietly at one of the tables. The pianist must be as miserable as you, here all day with the most interesting thing to happen being a gust of wind slightly waving the saloon doors. 

Many days, like today, you feel like you’re in limbo. Nothing ever happens in the tiny town of Cleardune, and practically all you do is this: bartend; your father won’t let you do much of anything else. Sometimes, you don’t think he even remembers that you’re his daughter—his only daughter, that is, his only child, only family. He hasn’t even looked at a woman since your mother died, and that was ten years ago. He won’t speak her name. The last time you did is the only time he’s ever hit you. Backhanded, he nearly knocked you on the floor. Once, someone else spoke her name, only in passing, and it turned into a damn brawl. It’s as if he wants to forget her, to obliterate her memory completely. And you hate him for it. You hate that he acts like you’re not the last thing of her that he has left. Like you’re nothing more than an employee at his damn bar. And yet, every boy you’ve ever tried to bring home, he’s raised a shotgun at. It’s like he wants your life to be empty. Lonely, meaningless. Nothing. As long as you’re in this town, your life will be nothing but nothing. 

For years, you’ve dreamed of running away, but you know nothing about surviving out there in the desert. Hell, you don’t even know how to ride a horse, thanks once again to your father. He wants you to stay here, keep being his bartender, cook him his meals, wash and iron his clothes, take care of him while he says nothing, not a single thanks, or hug, or even a pat on the head. Sometimes, you think he’s forgotten your name. You’d thought that maybe he’d warm back up in the years since your mother’s passing, but he hasn’t. 

The idea of getting out of here is becoming more and more mouth watering, even if you have no clue what you’d do with yourself. Just, something, something interesting, something new, an adventure. An adventure, that’s what you want. To get out of here, that’s what you need. 

The saloon doors push open as you daydream, but you don’t bother to look up until you hear an unfamiliar set of spurs. You raise your elbows off of the bar, watching the man walk in. He’s tall and broad, a cowboy hat hiding his face, his jacket thick and dark. As the stranger approaches the bar, all heads turn. Not many of those come through here, but you have seen a cowboy like him before, stopping in town for a few days at most. For a bed and a drink, rest for a little while until they realize that there’s nothing here other than that and a prostitute or two who have been doing it for so long they barely bother to smile anymore. 

The brim of his hat keeps his face shielded as he takes a seat. This, now, is the most interesting thing that has happened in months, and, naturally wildly intrigued, you slide over to him.

“What’ll it be?”

And then he looks up, and you see his face, and he is handsome. Tan skin, graying scruff, and deep, brown, almost puppy dog eyes

“Whiskey.” His voice is low, faintly gruff, and like honey. 

As you turn back for a bottle and a glass, you feel your entire face and chest flush, so you take your time with it. Christ almighty, you think to yourself. When you turn back, you can’t meet his eyes, despite how much you want to. He is the most handsome man you have ever seen. And not just that, he’s pretty. 

“Thank y’ kindly, ma’am.”

“Just let me know if you want anything else.” Your voice comes out high, and you immediately busy yourself with a cloth over the clean bar. 

“Sure will.” 

He sips quietly while you burn up, as if he’s radiating the heat of the sun from just a few feet away. Your mind races. After calming it as best you can, you decide that you need to strike up a conversation, which is a bit out of your character, but you can’t not. 

“So, where you coming from? Running or just walking?”

He looks up at you, licking his lips after a sip, and you’re almost beside yourself. The man chuckles and shakes his head, glancing back down for only a moment before looking back at you with a slight smile, that one little move making your chest flutter, “Nothin’ to worry about ma’am, not runnin’ from anythin’. Just travelin’.”

“What town were you in before this?”

“Can’t remember the name. Far from here.”

“Well, what brings you here?”

He lifts his glass, “Bit a’ this. Bed for me and some rest for my horse. It’s been a while.”

“Well, welcome to town.” You pull a smile out of yourself. Same ol’, same ol’, he sounds like, which is disappointing, but something about him is different. Maybe it’s just how stupidly good looking he is, but there’s something else, you think. 

“Thank y’ kindly.” He tilts his hat with a smirk. 

“So… how long are you staying?”

“Not long I reckon.”

Even though the reply was expected, it’s disappointing. Not like there’s anything to offer to keep him around in this dead end town. 

“Well… where are you headed after this?”

“Nowhere in particular. Like I said, I’m just a travelin’ man.”

“Gets lonely out there, doesn’t it?” You say before you can stop yourself. Not that it’s any kind of invitation, you really didn’t mean much by it, but you realize how it sounds as soon as the question leaves your lips. Henry slightly raising his head from across the bar tells you that it was probably too much. You bite your cheek. 

“Not when I’ve got Petunia with me.”

“Petunia?” Your voice comes out high again and you swallow hard. Has he already got a woman? A woman dedicated enough to be traveling with him? You feel your dreams have been dashed, all of those that have already built up in your head in only the first few minutes of meeting him. You know it’s ridiculous, but this man is somehow overriding all rationality in your mind. Maybe because there’s something else in you thinking for itself. You can’t really blame the little lady, you don’t get a lot of action around here. 

He chuckles. “My horse. Her name’s Petunia.”

“Oh,” you half chuckle, releasing a breath, “Pretty name.”

“Well, she’s a pretty girl.” He replies and sips. 

“I’ll bet she is.” 

“How d’you reckon that?”

“Pretty horse for a pretty cowboy.” You immediately bite your cheek again, swallowing hard. He chuckles and looks down, and you think you can hear someone else in the room snort. Silently, but very loud in your head, you curse yourself. 

“Well, thank you, ma’am… you’re not too bad yourself, if I may say.” He says as he looks back up at you, keeping your gaze as he sips his whiskey. 

“Well, thank you…” You feel your face and chest heat up again, but you can’t tear your eyes away long enough to hide. 

Well, he did meet you where you were at. And, even if it means that all he might want to do is fuck you before he’s off again, you’ll take it, even if it’s bad. But he looks like he knows his way around a woman. You bet he’d be real gentle, real loving. 

Then, you have to look away, and retreat to polish a few clean glasses. 

And that’s the last you speak, save for the “Thank ‘y ma’am,” and tip of his hat after he finishes his glass before the saloon doors swing closed behind him, and it feels like he’s gone almost as quick as he came. 

Henry hee-hee’s as he pushes his own empty glass forward, and you shoot him a glare as you fill it back up. You just hope he’s not so entertained by it that he decides to tell your father, because that’ll be the end of things for sure. 

The rest of the day is slow and dead, slower and deader than it’s ever felt before, and it gives you plenty of time to wonder about this strange, handsome cowboy. He said he isn’t running, so he’s no outlaw. Is he really just a traveling man? Does he have some wife out there? Kids? Where is he from? Does he have somewhere he’s aiming for? Something? Would he ever want to settle down? Maybe with you? Christ, you don’t even know his name. 

Just as the sun is about to set, your father comes into the saloon, waving you off without a word before taking your place behind the bar. He gives you no extra chores, though you’ll need to be fixing dinner soon, so you grant yourself permission to wander through town for just a little while, no doubt to try to catch sight of the man from earlier. You repeatedly smooth your dress as you walk, wishing you’d worn a nicer one today. He’s nowhere in sight, until you get to the barn at the edge of town, and there, you spot him. 

The setting sun coming through the other end of the barn’s open doors frames his figure, his hands on the cheeks of what must be Petunia. His silhouetted profile is something for the books, and you stop dead in your tracks, watching him. 

Feet moving helplessly, you wander in, and lean against the wide door frame. 

“Is that Petunia?”

When he looks at you, he’s shadowed, but he tips his hat, “Sure is. Wanna meet ‘er?”

You reply with a smile and wander in further. Petunia is, in fact, a very pretty girl—nearly white blonde, blue eyes like the sky, and built almost like a draft horse, with a matching gentle nature. She’s striking, just like her rider. 

“She sure is a looker, you were right.” “Ain’t she?” He sounds so proud when he says it. 

You pet her snout, and she bends her head into it. “Polite, too.”

“She’s a good girl. ‘Til you get on her bad side.” You hear the smirk in his voice.

“And how do you get on her bad side?” You look at him, the setting sun glinting behind his cheekbone.

“Shootin’ at ‘er.” He smirks.

“You get shot at a lot?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nah, don’t cause enough trouble for it.” 

“So… you’re really just a traveler, huh?”

“Sure am.” “How come? Why not, you know, settle down somewhere?” He shrugs, “Get too restless if I’m in one place for too long.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” You chuckle lightly, feeling like your ass has been on fire for about half a decade, despite no moves to put it out. 

“How long you been here, then?”

“My whole life.” You answer with a sheepish smile. 

“How old ‘re you?”

“Twenty.” “That’s a long time to be in one place. Why don’t you leave?”

You shrug. “I don’t know how to be anywhere else.”

“Well… that’s fair. It’s a rough world out there.”

“I still sure would like to see it.”

“Ma’am,” he pauses, “I don’t mean to be impolite, but you’re lucky to be in a town like this.” “You mean somewhere where nothing ever happens?” You chuckle.

“Better than one bein’ shot up every few days.” Sheepish again, you look back at Petunia and run your hand over the bridge of her nose. “I guess you’re right.”

He pauses, then adds, “I can understand, though. Must be damn boring—’scuse my language.”

“You said that right.” “Well, what do you do for fun around here?”

You snort. “‘Fun’ is not a thing around here.” It’s an honest answer, but you soon regret it, fearing scaring him off sooner than he’s bound to be gone already. 

“Well, that just means you make your own fun then, right?” You look at him, “And how do you suppose I do that?” “Well… you wanna take a little ride with me and Petunia? Not far.”

Though you desperately, desperately want to say yes, you keep yourself regretfully under control. “… I can’t, I should already be back home to make dinner. Besides, my father would have a fit if he caught sight of that.”

After a pause, he leans against the stall. “Tell you what, then.” He crosses his arms with a smirk, gaze warm. “Meet me back here tonight. When you can. I know how to ride in the dark.”

You blink at him. “…Really?”

Still smirking, and tips his head, “Really. If you’d like to.”

“I’d love to.”

“Well alright then.” He smiles. After a moment, you manage to tear your eyes away from him, giving one last pet to Petunia before backing back out of the barn, trailing a smile before turning on your heel to make your way back home. 

“Hey,” you hear behind you, and whirl back to face him. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he speaks as he walks to you, “I just realized I never introduced myself. M’names Joel. Joel Miller.”

As you introduce yourself to him, you can’t even hear yourself, his name swirling around your mind. Joel, Joel, Joel Miller rolls around your tongue. It suits him. Joel, Joel, Joel… “Joel,” when it leaves your lips, you smile. “Very nice to meet you.”

He tips his hat, “Pleasure to meet you. Will I see you tonight?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be here.” You answer quickly, nodding. 

“Well, I’ll be waiting.” With that smile like a sunrise, he tips his hat once more. Sensing the possibility of fainting, you finally bid farewell with a simple nod and turn back and scurry back to the saloon and up the stairs to your home above it.

Nothing new tonight—lonely cooking and a silent meal, a gruff “G’night” from your father, though this evening you clean up a little quicker before retreating to your room. Joel has been stuck on your tongue and in your head, and all you can think about is seeing him. Digging through your armoire for your one pair of jeans and nicest blouse, you smile to yourself, giddy both to see him again and to have something to do tonight. Plus, you haven’t been out past the town entrance gate in way too long. At the bureau, you smooth your hands over your hair. 

To you, nothing much to see in the reflection. It’s a bit disheartening, to look at yourself right before you’re about to go see the most handsome man alive, but he invited you, so you’re going. 

You turn your bedroom light off before you go, doing only that one thing to try to make it look like you're asleep, not that it matters. Then, you inch your rackety window open as quietly as possible, and reach for the first branch of the tree standing right outside. 

You don’t sneak out often, but this tree grants you free access to whenever you desire. Either it was made for you, grown to fit you, or you’ve just learned it like the back of your hand, but you descend with ease, though your heart rate picks up with each step down. 

The barn is a short walk—not enough time to calm your nerves, and your heart is just about beating out of your chest as you approach it. 

The hanging light inside is off, making you nervous he’s not actually there, but then you recognize his moonlit silhouette through open back doors. God, he’s so big and broad… and his hat is off. 

“You came.” Comes his voice as you enter, sounding genuinely glad, and you smile. 

“Of course I did.” You strategically stand with the light of the moon on your back, lighting up his face, and dear lord in heaven, he’s absolutely beautiful. With his hat off, you can finally appreciate this gorgeous mop of salt and peppered brown curls he’s been hiding from you, and god, those eyes, dark and deep as melted chocolate, full of life despite the shroud of his brow, that nose, like a sculpture from heavenly fingers, those lips, relentlessly inviting despite their unavoidably chappedness; even his facial hair suits him absolutely perfectly. It’s almost unfair. 

“Nice night for a ride, don’t’y think?” He smiles. 

“Yeah.” You answer, almost at a loss for words just looking at him. 

“Well, come on,” Joel cocks his head, “let’s get Petunia all ready to go.”

You watch him open her stall, taking the horse gently by the bridle. He looks at you while he brings her out, then says again, “Come on,” words just as gentle as his hands, a small smile on those perfect goddamn lips. But you’re unsure of what he means, so all you do is step forward. 

He hides a chuckle. “You know how to tack up a horse?”

You barely even know what that means, only having heard the words tossed around from a distance. “No…” you reply, “my father’s never let me ride. Or do anything, really.”

“You mean you just stay cooped up in that bar all day?”

“…For the most part,” you shrug sheepishly, “I mean, I get out, just… not much…”

He stops with Petunia on the barn floor. “You’ve never ridden a horse?” 

“No…” Suddenly, you feel small; stupid, really, a naive little girl. But without missing a beat, Joel casts your anxieties to the side with a casual tone, “Well, let me show you.” 

Slowly, he demonstrates how to attach the reins to her bridle, put on and secure her saddle, and then he hoists you up onto her, one hand under your foot and his other on your hip to push you up. You have to take a moment, at that hand on your hip, before you can process his words. 

“Sorry, say again?”

“I said there you go. Now, sit back a little so I can get on up there.” You do as you’re told, and what a sight, as he brings himself onto Petunia, a new view of his ass, though it doesn’t last nearly long enough. But then those thick thighs, resting on either side, and no eyes on you to stop you from soaking up the view.

“You ready to go, little lady?”

“Ready.” Delighted, you smile.

“Well, hang on, then,” Joel takes your hands to bring around him and then crosses them over his belly, and you’re in heaven. He’s thick, he’s a man, strong and capable and warm and god what you would give to never have to let go. 

Joel clucks twice and Petunia starts a relaxed pace out of the barn. As you leave it, turning towards the entrance to town, you look around nervously, scared of being caught, the worst feared, by your father, even though there’s no reason for him to be out now. The coast is clear, but you stay preoccupied with worry, head almost on a swivel until you're a good few dozen yards outside of town. 

Once you let yourself relax, the only sounds are hooves in the sandy dirt and the swish of the saddle. The moon is out and bright, setting clear light over the desert. 

Joel makes a turn, and you can see the town at your side. From here, even though you’re not all that far, it looks so small. 

After a few moments, you realize, “I’ve never been this far out of town.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Well, how do you like it so far?”

A cool gust of wind brushes your cheek, and, looking at the town becoming smaller and smaller, it feels like freedom. 

“I love it.”

Joel chuckles. “Well, there’s plenty of space to love. Miles and miles of this outside your little town.”

“I know.” You reply wistfully, and Joel chuckles again.

It’s silent for a few minutes; not awkward, but serene. Something about him makes everything feel peaceful, and you sigh deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. This is the nicest night you’ve had in a long, long time. You’d stay out all night with him like this. Then, to your dismay, you remember that he’ll be leaving soon; this might just be the only night you’ll have with him. And you’ll be left back here, probably thinking about it for the rest of your life, the handsome cowboy who came and went, swept you up with a look and was gone again like a whiff of smoke. Maybe a few days ago, one night like this would be enough, but now that you have it, it isn’t. 

“You said… you’re only staying for a few days?” You speak up, a mousy voice betraying you.

“That’s the plan.”

Not knowing what to say, you stay quiet. You’ve already told him how desperately you want to leave, so why would he want to stay?

Finally, you say, “Well, that’s too bad.” 

“N’ why’s that?”

“I dunno… I guess, it’s just… you’re the most interesting thing that has happened here in ages.”

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckles. 

“I’ll miss you.”

For a few moments, it’s just the hooves in the sand, and you nervously adjust your grip around him. 

“Well, you don’t have to miss me just yet.” He finally answers, “Night’s not nearly over. And I’m sure to be comin’ to the saloon tomorrow.” This gets a small smile out of you, but it isn’t quite enough to stop the wave of melancholy souring your mind. “Don’t go worryin’ about things that aren’t here and now. This is nice, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. It’s real nice.”

“Let’s just have a nice night, then, huh?”

“Yeah.” 

After a while of silence, appreciating your arms around Joel, the cool night breeze on your face, and view of the desert with its cacti and mesas crowned by the waning moon, Petunia slows to a halt. “Alright,” Joel sighs, turning his head back to you. “Lemme show you how to dismount.” He slides off and drops to the ground, then looks back up at you. “Jus’ swing your legs around and I’ll help you.” You turn to sit on the side of the horse and are met by outstretched arms that make your heart flutter. “Just slide on down, now.” As you do, he puts his hands around your waist to help you to the ground. Once you are, he keeps them there, and all you can do is stare up at him. His slanted smile shows off a single dimple, crows feet in the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, all you can think about is kissing him. 

“Damn.” He says quietly. 

“What?” You breathe out. 

“You are one pretty lady.”

“…What?” You half chuckle, on fire. 

“I said you’re one pretty lady. Maybe even prettier than Petunia.” You chuckle again, and he chuckles with you. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, um… you’re pretty.”

Joel laughs at that, only further proving your point. “I’m pretty?”

“Yeah!” You laugh back, “I mean, I’ve never met a man that’s pretty, but you are pretty.” 

In the moonlight, you swear you catch a blush as he looks away. “Well, I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“About time, then.” You chuckle, more like a giggle, his hands still warm on your waist. 

“Damn.” Joel says again, still looking to the side. 

“What?”

“Nothin’.” He chuckles again, “Nothin’.”

You stand silently for a moment, held in his hands, him looking away with a smile that’s fading in a way that tells you he’s thinking about something. When he looks back at you, his eyes drop to your lips, and your heart jumps like a racehorse out of the gates. Joel’s hands close just a little tighter around your waist, but then he lets go, standing back with his hands now on his own hips. His eyes linger for a moment before they’re back out to the desert. “We’ve been out for a while. Should start headin’ back. Don’t want you to lose any beauty sleep.” He ends with a smirk back at you, but you barely blush, the words rushing out of you, “I wanna lose sleep. With you.” You swallow hard after that. 

If only you could control your tongue around him, but you can’t seem to. Noticing that you had taken a step closer as you spoke, it’s like something inside of you is pressuring every other part of you to stay as close to him as possible. As if staying away from him isn’t an option. 

Something has shifted inside of you. Though you barely know him, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. In every way, not just how you made it sound with that last sentence. You just want to be near him, be with him. Out here, anywhere, with him. You want to know him. Happily, you would make dinner for him every night, iron his clothes, take care of Petunia, take care of him. And something about him tells you that he’d take care of you, too. Nothing like your father. No, you’ve never met anyone like Joel. 

Christ, are you going crazy? You really barely know him at all. But there’s just something about him, your heart argues back, trust me, it tells you, don’t let him go. 

“Wha’d’ya mean by that?” He replies, smiling at you. 

Maybe he’s silently laughing at you, maybe you’re a fool, but you don’t care. You’ll be a fool for him. You don’t have time to think it over. 

“I, I wanna stay up with you. Can’t we just stay up a little longer?”

After a moment, he nods, “Yeah, alright.” And you smile. “Well, it is gettin’ cold, so why don’t we head back? Don’t have to part ways, just get back where we won’t freeze our asses off.”

You chuckle, then follow Joel back onto the horse. 

The temperature drops noticeably by the time you get back, and you’re shivering once you’re on the barn floor again. 

“Good thing we came back, huh?” Joel says as he sets Petunia back up in her stall for the night. 

Rubbing your arms with a shiver, you reply, “Yeah, I guess so.” He looks back at you and chuckles, “You sure didn’ dress for it, either.” All you offer is a bashful smile, feeling naive again. However, once again, Joel dashes it away with a “Here,” pulling his thick jacket off to wrap around you. 

It is intoxicating. The warmth, the smell. Strongly of leather, but a mix of others you can’t quite place… it smells like him. 

“That better?” He asks with a smirk, but you are unable to answer, face likely simply full of awe, but you can’t help it. Chuckling, Joel looks away, rubbing your arms, “Yeah, that’s better.”

Finally, your mouth allows, “Thank you.”

“Course. Can’t stand to see you shiverin’ like that.”

He can’t stand it. Can’t stand to see you cold. Just a shiver, he just can’t stand it. He cares.  

Thinking about it, maybe that shouldn’t be such a big deal, such a big ask, but it hits you. Just not used to it, you guess. Still, you barely know each other, and he cares enough to almost literally give you the shirt off his back. 

“This is better.” Even to yourself, your voice sounds absent, like you’re in a trance. Still intoxicated by his warmth and his smell, you really kind of are.

“Good.” Joel smiles. “You look tired, little lady, and it really is gettin’ late. Are you supposed to be out here at all?”

“No.” Is your unthinking answer. He chuckles. “Well, then, let’s get you home. How about you show me the way.”

He wants to walk you home. With his jacket around your shoulders, he’s gonna walk you home. God damn gentleman. Why is he doing this to you? Actually, you don’t really care, because you’re so warm now and he smells so good and he’s at your side as you walk back home with a little smile on his lips. 

Just this morning, you were utterly miserable, bored almost to death, ready to sink into the filthy wood floor of the bar you spend more time in than your own bed, but now, well… here you are. He’s like a meteor hitting your world, tearing everything away, rearranging it all. It feels like he’s what you’ve been waiting for. 

You take him around the side of your house, stopping at the tree. 

“This is you, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“No front door?”

“I don’t want… I don’t want my father to see you here. With me.”

Joel pauses, smirking. “Alright.”

For a moment, you stand there, just staring. You don’t know if Joel has any real idea of what he’s done to you tonight. Then the breeze reminds you back to reality, and you say, starting quickly but ending with a swat of self consciousness for your enthusiasm in the question, “I’ll see you tomorrow…?”

He smiles and nods back, and in it, you think maybe he does see some of his effect. It’s instantly embarrassing, but at the same time, you don’t think you really want it to be hidden from him. Not that you could, if you do see him again. You’re well aware that for you, this is just the beginning, whether you like it or not. “I sure hope so. You’ll be behind the bar?” Joel replies. 

“Course I will.” 

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pauses and chuckles. “Not that I’m a heavy drinker, I’m not gonna be comin’ by every day to drink. Just to see you.”

Damn this man, and damned are you. He wants to come… to see… you. He’s coming for you. You have to swat yourself back into reality again, realizing how much you’ve been staring. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” The smile sticks to your face, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Joel tips his head goodbye, taking a few steps back with his smile before he turns his back to walk away. 

After a moment of watching him, another cool breeze reminds you of one more thing. 

“Oh, Joel!” You call after him quietly. “I still have your jacket,” you start to shrug it back off your shoulders, but he puts his hand up, “Keep it. For tonight. I’ll get it back tomorrow.” That smile still perks his cheeks, and, despite his… manliness, he’s so cute. Staring again, you make yourself reply, “…Thank you, Joel.” He nods again, then turns, and you are still having to put concentrated effort into looking away to get yourself up the tree and back into your room. 

Obviously, you sleep with the jacket on, and have some of the finest rest you’ve ever had, and your dreams, blessedly, and unavoidably, are of Joel. 

[pixaho]

Oya High With Girlfriends PT 2

♥ Pairing | Oya High x Girlfriend ♥ AU? No |

♥ Warnings | :)

M.LIST H&L LIST PT 1

TSUJI

♦ FIRST MEET

Tsuji and you met through a shared love in festivals. You guys had been celebrating Year of the Dragon and bumped into each other. Although he was rude at first, he actually seemed to calm down and got into talking with you. (Tsuji love for some of my Tsujihoes)

BONUS: He SO asks you to help him dye his hair because he can't do the back of his head and he doesn't want to ask a professional to do it.

♦ DATES

Usually when festivals happen or when a new book drops at a bookstore / a new game drops. Tsuji loves gaming when you are around and personally loves to read books as long as you are there. (I headcannon this man as a nerd and I will go to my GRAVE with that headcannon!) For festivals, he treats you to all the fun things and will even let you treat him.

♦ FIRST TIME

Surprisingly no mistakes, although because he lives in an apartment complex where the people next door are older, he put a few pillows behind the headboard so you could have peace that whole night. No he didn't forget protection (be safe out there) but he did leave you in hickeys.

♦ ARGUING

You guys argue over games, books, food, and hair. If he doesn't beat you in a video game, he tends to be petty and tries to screw you up. He's a cutie patootie <3

♦ JEALOUS

Literally got jealous of you and Shibaman within seconds of introducing you. For some reason he didn't like how Shibaman was staring at you even though he wasn't doing it weirdly. He was simply looking at you. But he does get jealous. Usually it's a showing off jealous type where he announces to everyone that you are his and nobody elses.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

♦ HOW YOU KISS

YASUSHI

♦ FIRST MEET

"Younger" sister of Kiyoshi. Yasushi and you had gotten along when Kiyoshi forgot to tell you that he had a friend over. Despite Yasushi's childishness, you found him funny. Thus began your funny little relationship.

♦ DATES

Cuddle dates. He refuses to take you to restaurants and cafes, and instead chooses at home dates aka cuddle and movie time. He buys the snacks of course. He's definitely a bottom because that boy loves sleeping on top of you or being the little spoon.

♦ FIRST TIME

Your first time with Yasushi lead to accidentally forgetting when Kiyoshi gets home and him walking in on you two. He didn't know at that time that it was Yasushi in your bed and not some random guy and was ready to beat the shit out of him. He still did just not as bad as he would have if it was a Suzuran or Housen person.

♦ ARGUING

Sometimes Yasushi's psychopathic tendencies tends to get in the way so he does things without realizing. Which is also why arguments are common. Kiyoshi is your middleman so usually he resolves things between you two. He doesn't mind, he just likes when you guys argue.

♦ JEALOUS

Woooo, jealous little baby! He doesn't like how close the other guys get to you and he will require the help of your older brother to teach a lesson to the guy or guys who were hitting on you. Especially if you said stop or you didn't like it beforehand.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

(The girl is Yasushi and the guy is you. I cant find better gifs ngl)

♦ HOW YOU KISS

NAKAG☺SHI

♦ FIRST MEET

He was clashing with Kiyoshi and Yasushi when you walked by, he had almost tripped you by sending one of them flying through the window of the school. You were on your way to see Nakaoka as he still needed to sign a paper. He didn't apologize until his brother smacked him upside the head. He had no choice but to apologize profusely.

♦ DATES

Yeaaaah, you don't really have dates. He just takes you with his clan to a hot spot where you and him sit closer and farther away from the others. He usually spends that time, giving other dirty looks but holding your hand.

♦ FIRST TIME

He made SURE that his brother would be out of the house when he invited you over, he just didn't think it would be your first time as a couple. Well you guys had a bit of Sake while hanging out and drunkenly fucked. When you woke up in his arms, your top and bra missing, you were so confused.

♦ ARGUING

Arguments aren't rare but you both hate doing that. He prefers to fight at school and not in his relationship with you. But he ends up ranting to Nakaoka when he doesn't know what to do to make something up to you such as accidentally ghosting you on your date.

♦ JEALOUS

He doesn't get jealous much rather girls are swooning over him weirdly. He stays faithful though and shoos them away, even if its mean shooing. He loves you.

♦ HOW YOU SLEEP TOGETHER

♦ HOW YOU KISS

♥ Mutuals | @talusional @dillpick

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Ultimately, I’m perfectly happy to see where the show takes us and just enjoy the ride, but I’ve been thinking about it and I’m actually really conflicted on whether or not I want an Edwin and Charles romantic endgame. I might as well just write my thoughts here.

Why a romantic endgame would be nice:

They’re cute ☺️

Actual canon gay couple between two of the lead characters in an explicitly queer narrative!!! (Idk why some people think this is a common thing nowadays - it actually still isn’t…)

Bisexual Charles woooo

Maybe some people will stop assuming characters who have no stated sexuality are automatically straight.

We need at least some acknowledgement of Charles’ jealousy towards Monty and no one else. It doesn’t get discussed in s1; in fact, Charles has not yet properly confronted a lot of his more uncomfortable feelings in terms of how they impact himself and not just other people. This boy does not introspect lol

Charles’ response to Edwin’s confession is not actually a complete rejection. This is outright acknowledged by the actors in interviews. I suspect if there wasn’t going to be at least a little exploration of the idea of something romantic between them, his response would’ve been far less open-ended.

Hand on heart parallel!!!

Why a platonic endgame would be nice:

It would be nice to see acknowledgement that someone can be your most important person and that not have to be romantic. Charles loves Edwin deeply, that is not up for debate.

I almost never see relationships where one has unreciprocated feelings and the relationship grows stronger for it instead of it being a source of angst. Extremely refreshing.

No fear of dropping the ball on the Crystal and Charles dynamic developing naturally, or on Crystal’s character focus itself (though I’ll say I trust these writers not to do that anyways tbh)

Idk. I’d be interested to hear if anyone else has thoughts on the matter (so long as you’re polite about it!). I think I really do just want to wait and see how things play out with the show. Just enjoy the ride. Either outcome is lovely, really.

[mama-qwerty]

WIP Wednesday

Lookit! I remembered two weeks in a row! WOOOO

Today's WIP bit is from the unintentional second chapter of the kaiju fic. I started it yesterday and am about 2400 words in. I have no idea if I'll finish it, but I've been having some other ideas pop into my head for it, so maybe it'll turn into (yet another) multi-chapter fic?

This one is from Knux's pov.

~~~~~

Six months.

It’d been six months since Knuckles returned to his planet. Since those bastard versions of his friends yanked the cracked chaos emerald from his eyes and tossed him through a portal back to his original world. The pain had been excruciating, both from the removal, and the way his body shrank and reverted to a mortal form.

Not his original form. No. He’d been in the kaiju form too long for that.

But a mortal form. One that didn’t heal almost instantly from injuries. One that didn’t mutate and reshape itself to be even more deadly, more efficient at killing. At destroying.

One that wasn’t as painful, every second of every day.

There was still pain. There would always be pain. He was sure of that. His joints ached. His back. His head. But it wasn’t as sharp or jagged as when he was a monster.

He was blind now. The first shard had done that when he’d transformed the first time. When a shard took control, it usually migrated to the eye socket, essentially taking a front row seat to piloting the body. He’d had a kind of funhouse mirror vision when it had been there. Everything looked crooked and stretched, tilted and angular. It hurt his head, and only fed the anger inside. The rage.

Of course, the twisted version of Amy that had apparently been shrunken and hidden in his ear, whispering doubts and feeding his insecurities didn’t help matters. It was her voice, disguised as his own, that made him question himself in the weeks leading up to that fateful day. That urged him on in the kaiju form, commanding him to kill. To destroy.

She’d spurred his rage, taking delight as he destroyed the city he so loved. Every town and village he’d come across. Everything in his path had been rendered to splinters. To ash. To death.

Once she’d shown herself, he’d tried to end her, but she’d implanted something in his head that delivered painful shocks if he disobeyed. So he’d gone with her as she led him through a portal, to a twisted and insane version of Tails.

And together, they’d caused the same trail of death and destruction on other worlds. Other universes? He wasn’t entirely sure of the details. But he saw other versions of Sonic. Of Tails. Amy.

Himself.

It was strange and frightening, and he wanted to stop, didn’t want to hurt anyone, but the shards implanted in his eyes and the punishing shocks he received if he faltered made him move. Made him kill.

But after a while, he didn’t know how long, the rage inside him faded. Even the shocks and pain didn’t make him act. The false Tails had been angry with him, but then his lips curled into the twisted smile, before he pulled a device from his big box of horrible inventions.

“Aw, is the big boy too tired?” he’d said, his high-pitched voice cracking in that demented laugh he always had. “Tut, tut. Well then, if that’s the case, I guess I’ll just take what’s mine and let you go back to live out your pathetic little life. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

The Amy behind him had tittered. Even to Knuckles’ monstrous ears, she sounded insane.

Then there’d been pain. Literal, blinding pain. The twisted fox had pulled the two chaos emerald pieces from Knuckles’ eyes, resulting in a deafening, pain-filled roar before he’d gone to his knees. His body changed, shrinking and shriveling and tightening as the chaos energy within him faded.

And then they’d chucked him through a portal. He’d landed on the rubble remains of the city he had wanted so badly to protect.

It had been so quiet. So damned quiet.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d laid there. Shocked, trembling, and adjusting to having actual thoughts again. Ones that weren’t overshadowed by fear and rage and pain.

Once he’d realized where he was—the smell was the same—he’d picked himself up and contemplated his next move. He was home, but . . . everyone and everything he’d ever cared about, ever knew, was gone. What did he do now?

Scarlett.

Was she still alive? Would she even want to see him if she was? He’d done horrible things. Killed so many. What would she think of him?

Those questions had stalled him. But after a moment he’d shaken his head. He’d face those questions later. When . . . if he found her.

With a grunt, he’d turned and picked a direction to start walking.

His search began.

It had been hard. Without his eyes, he had to rely on his other senses. They’d stepped up, for the most part. His hearing was better. His sense of smell stronger. He could sense objects nearby, and he’d developed a kind of sense for other shard possessed creatures. Could sense the shards themselves, almost hear them. As if they called out to him.

He resisted that call. Now that he was himself again, he was absolutely not going to let the lure of some sliver of chaos emerald take control of him again.

He walked. He searched. He fought other shard possessed kaiju. Days passed. Weeks. Months. He wasn’t sure how many. It was hard to keep track.

And then, he’d smelled it. Smelled her.

They’d grown up together, as close as siblings, so her scent was as familiar as his own. Just a brief whiff of it, caught on the wind. His heart had given a hard thump in his chest, and he’d picked up the pace.

A dead kaiju. Recent, by the smell. And her scent was all over. A sharper edge to it—blood. He leaned down and sniffed the thing’s claws, tasting her scent on his tongue as he did so. It had injured her. Anger flared within him, and he resisted the urge to tear this corpse apart, a delayed retribution for it daring to hurt her.

Instead, he turned to follow the stronger scent of her.

Stronger. It was even stronger here. But, higher? Sounds from above him and he stepped back, waiting to catch more information before making a move. To be sure.

A thud and a pained grunt. A relieved sigh. Her scent reached him, stronger than ever.

It was her.

He let out soft grunt, and sensed her freeze.

Smelled her fear.

He didn’t move, trying to figure out what he should do. Could he speak, would his vocal cords even work? He wasn’t sure.

Before he could try, a screech from above. Another kaiju, a larger one, with two shards.

A fight. They’d moved too quickly for him to get involved, his lack of sight preventing him from knowing how to attack. He didn’t want to hurt Scarlett by accident.

But then she’d been down. Hurt. Helpless. And he’d acted.

That had been two months ago. Since then they’d been inseparable once more. Roaming the land, seeking food and shelter and any sign of anything good left.

They hadn’t found much.

[eggybug]

guess what time it is! its end of season 4 thoughts time!!!!

they are going to be a lot more insane and outta order than in the past

1. the entire season they were yelling at us that lilith was the final seal and it pissed me off jfc

2. i forgot what it was like to lowkey hate sam, i hate it.

3. so cas was in love the whole time, right? RIGHT. like i know ive been ranting about it all season but are you KIDDING me

4. ruby is a bitch and i hate her so bad. but she was in it for the long game thats for damn sure

5. im REALLY not looking forward to the whole "sam gets haunted by lucifer" bit

6. i love cas, i really do, but he looked right in deans eyes, knew that he was doing this shit to him, and did it anyway. like he was probably tortured by the legions of heaven, but goddamn it

7. when i start making cain and abel comparisons all next season, i don't wanna hear shit about it. itll be my bout of insanity and i apologize in advance

8. i fuckin LOVE bobby

9. no body liked john winchester, they loved him, but they hated the son of a bitch

10. i never got to the point where chuck became TRULY the worst guy ever, but i know we as a fandom hate him, so i hate him.

11. i think demons eat babies and i don't know how i feel about that

12. i don't know who i hate more, uriel or zachariah. maybe im glad cas killed all the angels

13. like i get it but HOW did it take dean so long to realize heaven wanted the war too. they disappeared for weeks while lilith was breaking seals like a bull in a damn china shop

14. they keep doing that thing where one of the capital A angels does something shameful to dean, or dean questions his faith in the "Plan" and the camera cuts to cas looking like a sad puppy

15. ik ive said it 1000 times but goddamn those stupid lil boys need therapy

16. GABRIEL WAS TRYING TO WARN THEM, HE WAS TRYING AND HE COULDNT. THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU GABEY!

17. hey, in the last episode they killed a bunch of nuns, which like damn

18. back to sam, his dumbass really fell for the devil on his shoulder bit jfc

19. like i understand camera work, but two straight men don't stand that close to have a conversation. they just don't.

20. hey sammy, you throw a lady in a trunk, you stop being the good guy

21. at any point did they just consider... not doing that. maybe perhaps, waiting a week?

22. there was a thing with the mirrors and zachariah in the last ep, wasn't there? like that wasn't unintentional. mirrors are notoriously terrible to work with, that can't be unintentional.

23. i love that biblical fanfiction always somehow ends with an angel, a demon, and a human coming together to stop heaven and hell playing out a war on earth.

24. spn just proved you can't leave a bunch of corporate assholes in charge of a planet.

26. im really not looking forward to sam whining about starting the apocalypse for a whole season.

27. dean fighting tooth and nail for cas to see the truth in humanity. to find faith outside of heaven. cas seeing that and it breaking his morale a little bit more and more every time. cas repeatedly seeing dean, perfect vessel, perfect soldier, dean be willing to lose the promise of heaven, of peace for his little bit of humanity. it broke cas. and dean keeps begging cas to see it too. and they're going to drive. me. INSANE.

28. "we're done" those were the exact words dean said to cas.

29. so cas and dean can talk without saying anything, and i hate to say that means they're in love... but thats exactly what that means.

30. cas did it! he broke his faith, he sacrificed himself for dean. and now they're gonna kiss (ik they don't kiss but a boy can dream)

31. have i mentioned that sam pisses me the FUCK off! like yeah i blame ruby but goddamn.

32. this season was hell in a handbasket, jfc (no ounce intended)

omg! season for is done!! woooo! onto the most annoying and lowkey painful season ever! my takes and thoughts for season 5 are going to be annoying, so be prepared !