#after two months of retail hell

[screamingsnowflake]

OFF TO PICK UP MY LOVE AT THE AIRPORT!!!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my sister I think she should put down her dog?

(cw: animal death, animal erection mention (I shit you not), suicide mention)

So, I (21nb) have a sister (Amelia, 23f). She’s been living with a friend for the past two years, but she still stops by the house every now and then. Most of the time, it’s just to drop off her dog (Max, toy poodle, 16?m) so that we (Dad and Mom, 63m and 55f, and Jamie, 25f) can dogsit him while she’s at work. We’ve already got three dogs of our own, and because both of my parents work full-time (and Jamie works from home part-time), I’m usually the one who has to take care of him during the day (along with our other dogs).

Unfortunately, because Max is an older dog, he has a lot of health issues. He’s mostly blind, fully deaf, and he has intense separation anxiety. He also bites when he’s startled, which is often because he’s deaf and blind. So most times he’s over he’ll pee in the house because he doesn’t know he’s inside, we’ll have to carefully pick him up and put him in the backyard so he can do his business, then stand outside with him so we can keep him from getting lost in a bush or bumping into a tree or freezing to death because he can’t find his way to the door, then we have to carefully pick him up again to bring him back inside. After that, he’ll often walk around the house while screaming because he can’t see or hear anyone and he thinks we’ve abandoned him. It’s hell to deal with, and I’ve had breakdowns on several different occasions while trying to deal with my other responsibilities and also keep him from screaming 24/7. When he’s not aimlessly wandering and screaming, he’s asleep in his dog bed for most of the day. It’s depressing to watch him so sad and unmotivated. He doesn’t know how to be a dog without her.

Recently, Amelia’s been dropping him off more often and for longer stretches. She works retail, so I can understand that her schedule is fucked most of the time. But she’s also been dropping Max off because he’s so overwhelming for her to deal with. He has the same issues when he’s at home with her, but he’s also like 10 times more energetic when she’s around (and he screams when she’s around but not holding him or giving him attention), which is hard for her to deal with after three days of back to back shifts. She’s called my mom before to ask us to take Max for a night just so she can get some sleep.

The most recent time Amelia dropped Max off, she said that he’d been having painful prolonged erections, and that we’d probably have to wipe his penis down with a damp washcloth to get it to go back in. Now, I’ve had dogs for most of my life, I’m not exactly a stranger to having to wipe down doggy nether regions (hell, I’ve dealt with so many clingons you could call me a starfleet ambassador). But having to do that for a blind dog who’s known to bite when he’s startled? Just the idea of having to hold him while someone else wipes makes me want to cry tears of frustration. I’ve already got two scars from him biting me, I’m not aiming for a third.

With all of his health issues, I’m convinced that it’d be much more humane to put Max down now rather than letting him (and quite frankly, everyone who has to take care of him) suffer indefinitely. But at the same time, he’s Amelia’s rock. She’s struggled with depression and anxiety all her life, and she was even hospitalized for severe suicidal ideation two years ago. She’s told me herself that some days, the only thing that gets her out of bed is having to take care of Max. I’ve had a dog like that before, and when he passed suddenly, it destroyed me for months. I’m worried that if Amelia did have to have Max put down, it might lead to her being hospitalized again, or worse. I can’t keep living with him, but at the same time, I can’t expect her to live without him.

TL;DR: my sister’s dog has many health issues that require special care, and I’m responsible for babysitting him while she’s at work. my sister has mental health issues, and taking care of her dog is both incredibly stressful for her and one of the few sources of joy she has. I believe it’d be more humane for everyone if she puts her dog down, but I also don’t want to take away one of the few things that makes her happy. Would I be the asshole if I told her I think she should put down her dog?

What are these acronyms?

[itneverendshere]

my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

just a lil something, completely self indulgent and inspired by miranda and steven in s2 of sex & the city 😔🥺

warnings: angst😤; a little fluffy; soft!rafe because i personally LOVE him

you did it without thinking.

it felt as if your body had a mind of its own and while your brain yelled at you to stay put and act normal, your heart simply didn’t allow it. your feet pounded against the street pavement, you didn’t even try to look back, afraid that if you did, you’d crumble. the sound of your breath filled your ears, drowning out the chaos of the main street.

rafe.

the name echoed in your mind like some sort of haunted melody. you didn’t expect to see him, not after so many months without a single glimpse of his perfect face. you’d broken up months ago, you were supposed to be over him. and yet, despite all your attempts, his presence still stirred something within you. 

this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.

you rounded the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was fine. so what if he was back in town? so what if he didn’t call you? so what if you two promised to stay friends and yet…it’s none of your business. you should be thankful.  

but seeing him out of the blue, it was like a sucker punch to the gut, except it felt like it came from a hundred directions at once. maybe you just needed a minute to process all of it. maybe a venti latte and some retail therapy would do the trick.

except they didn’t and hours later, here you are, stuck to your couch wondering how the hell you are supposed to step foot outside knowing there’s a possibility you might run into him again. 

your brain always goes into overdrive when you think of rafe cameron. and now you’re stuck here, overthinking every little thing. should you text him? would that be too desperate? but what if he's thinking the same thing?

and if he isn’t?

there's a sudden knock on your apartment door, the sound cuts through the haze of your mind, jolting you back to reality. you reluctantly peel yourself off the couch and shuffle over to the door, wondering if that amazon package you ordered this morning is here already. 

you glance towards the peephole, debating whether to check who it is or simply ignore it. after a moment of internal deliberation, curiosity wins out, and you approach the door cautiously.

you peer through the peephole, half expecting to see a stranger or maybe the mailman with a package. but to your surprise—it's rafe.

holy fuck.

your breath catches in your throat as you take in his familiar face from up close, a jumble of emotions stirring inside you.

what's he doing here? how did he get your new address? you moved from your parent’s home just a month ago. 

for a beat, you’re frozen. no one taught you how to proceed in these kinds of situations, but you are fairly certain letting an ex-boyfriend, the one you’re still in love with, inside your personal space is a big no-no.  

should you open the door? pretend you’re not home? smash your head against a wall and pray it knocks you out instantly? before you can even begin to form a plan, there's another knock, this time a little more insistent, as if he knows you’re on the other side.

“i can hear you breathing.”

panic sets in. 

summoning whatever fake bravery you have left, you take a deep breath and reluctantly twist the doorknob. with your hands trembling like crazy, you swing the door open, revealing rafe standing there. 

you gulp, feeling like your throat's suddenly decided to go on strike “yeah-uh. hi!”

his hands are clutched behind his back and his eyes take turns between your face and the door. there's a slight furrow in his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the curve of his nice cheekbones. 

“that was a shitty thing you did. running away from me on the street.”

you feel a crazy amount of guilt wash over you. he’s not wrong. running away like that was cowardly, but did he expect you to run into him with open arms?

“i didn’t run?”

his lips, usually set in a determined line, now quiver ever so slightly, “you ran.”

the weight of what you did hangs over you like a dark cloud. could you have acted any more immaturely?

“well, i wasn’t expecting to see you-“ you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky, “and-and, i-“

“it really hurt my feelings.” rafe's finger points accusingly at his chest, and you feel like you’re about to shrink into the floor under the weight of his disappointment.

you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. you can feel your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears and you use every remaining strength inside you not to cry in front of him. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough. 

“i don’t deal very well with ex-boyfriends?”

his expression softens slightly, and he leans his weight against the doorframe, his eyes searching yours.

“hey, sweetheart, this is me.”  his hand moves again and he gently places it on his chest, right over his heart, as if trying to convey the sincerity of his words “rafe.”

but he’s not your rafe anymore.

that’s the one thing you want to tell him. you chew on your lower lip wondering if honesty would do you any good right now. if it would erase all these months, weeks, days, hours, without him. 

a moment of silence stretches between you, and then, after what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to utter a response.

"yeah..."

rafe's gaze remains fixed on you, “i held you while you were sleeping.”

if you weren’t crying before, you are now. it's like a dam has burst inside you. tears stream down your face like a leaky faucet, nothing strong enough to hold them back. they're not the dainty tears you see in movies, but big, ugly cries that leave your mascara streaked and your nose running.

you try to speak, but all that comes out are choked sobs and sniffles. it's embarrassing, really, how out of control you feel. but you can't help it even as your front neighbor comes into view. 

you do quick 180 and bolt back into your apartment, hand pressed against your forehead as if holding it will stop the raging headache you’re about to experience. you don’t have to look back to know rafe’s following you, trailing inside and swiftly closing the door with a soft click.

"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "i’m really sorry. i’m so sorry-“

rafe's hands reach out, his palms open as if he's dealing with a wounded animal. 

"hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance, "it's okay.”

“i hadn’t seen you in so long,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, “and i missed you and then i did that shit-“

his hand envelops yours, his touch grounding you. "hey, breathe," he urges softly, “it’s okay.”

tears well up in your eyes again, blurring your vision as you struggle to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "’m sorry," you choke out, voice breaking with each syllable. "i'm so sorry, rafe."

“it wasn’t that shitty, okay?” rafe's expression softens further, the way it does only for you.

“it was! i’m a shitty person.”

his thumb gently brushes away your tears as he shakes his head slowly. "no, you're not.”

“i am! you would’ve never done something that shitty.”

the nagging feeling that you’ve let him down once again is eating you alive.

he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "what do you call showing up here, in your apartment, in the middle of the afternoon and calling you shitty, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, “t’s not the same.” 

rafe reaches out, gently cupping your face in his palm as he brushes his thumb gently across your cheek. “yeah, it is.”

without even questioning it, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes as your allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. for the first time in months.

“i miss you,” you confess, “whenever something happens, i just want to tell you about it.”

“so, tell me.” the tender smile softens the lines on his face, "’m right here.”

you feel a rush of relief, a weight lifting off your chest as if he's just granted you permission to exhale. and yet, tears still well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and spilling over onto your cheeks in hot.

“i have a date.”

a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening with each syllable. your voice quivers with uncertainty, the words tumbling out like stones from a crumbling cliff. you don’t have to look to know your hands are shaking like leaves in a storm. you’re pretty sure if you held them up, they'd look like one of those ridiculous earthquake simulations. 

rafe nods, doing his best to stop the cheeky grin growing on his face, as he shakes his head understandingly, “looking forward to it, are ya?”

but you only sob harder.

"hey, hey- sweetheart. it's alright.” he says gently, his voice soothing you better than any depressing song on your playlist, “just jokin’ around.”

but you can't shake off the feeling of shame, the burning embarrassment of admitting to something you wish you hadn't. of letting someone take you out, someone who isn’t rafe, your rafe. 

"i just... i thought it would help me move on, y’know?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i get it.” he tries to smile at you again, but it looks sad, and it makes your heart hurt. his hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, “i’m not mad.”

but you are. at you. at him.

the words linger in the back of your mind, gnawing at your insides. you want to scream, to lash out at him for being so understanding, for not fighting for you the way you wish he would.

you push his hands away from your face, your voice cracking. that’s all it seems to do since he walked back into your life ten minutes ago.

"that's it?" you exclaim, "you're just okay with it? with me going on a stupid date with someone else?"

it was like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him, and he didn't know how to stand back up.

rafe’s jaw is set in a firm clench, "i just want you to be happy.”

“but i'm not happy!" you retort, your voice rising in volume as tears continue to stream down your face. "i'm miserable, rafe! and you're just standing there, doing nothing!”

his chest is rising and falling heavily, as if he’s trying to contain himself.

"i'm doing nothing?” he asks so quietly; you take a double take to make sure it’s still him. his eyes flicker with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. it feels like staring into a wildfire, all fierce and untamed. 

you swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of your words crashing down on you. the way rafe looks at you, it’s like he sees right through you.

"i’m here, aren't i? i’m listening, okay? i'm trying to understand."

but his words only fuel the fire of your frustration.

"i need you to tell me that you still care. that you don't want me to go on that date because you want me for yourself."

you could see the anger draining out of him, leaving behind this raw, broken man. he slumps forward, shoulders drooping. his eyes go from blazing with intensity to just... empty. like he just flicked off a light switch behind them. 

it’s heartbreaking, honestly, to see him just fizzle out into nothing. 

“’course i want you for myself," he whispers, "but i can't force you to choose me. you left me.”

it’s a devastating sight, really. to see someone you love so deeply, someone who’s always been so strong, just fall apart like that. it’s like watching a building crumble to the ground.

and the worst part is, you know you’re the one who caused it. you’re the reason he’s standing there looking so broken, so lost. and you hate yourself for it, hate that you couldn’t be what he needed, hate that you had to go and ruin everything.

“i left because i didn’t feel good enough,” your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, “not because i stopped loving you.”

for a moment, the silence between you is deafening, stretching on through time. it’s like neither of you knows what to say. 

and then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifts in his expression, he looks as if you have hit him.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. “i never wanted you to doubt how much you mean to me.”

his words hang in the air, like they’re carrying the weight of all the things you two never said, all the things you wished you could take back. as if he’s putting it all out there, laying his soul bare for you to see, finally showing you everything he’s been keeping bottled up inside.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words a solemn oath sworn in the quiet of the night. “’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”

“i’m sorry too,” you choke out. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”

and then, without another word, without another moment wasted on regrets and what-ifs, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. it’s like coming home after a long time.

and yeah, you might have a shit ton of things and problems to sort through, but rafe cameron is worth that and more. 

[pappydaddy]

when i'm eighty (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: y/n is exhausted and jj neglected the bike's gas tank. who knew it would lead to such a proclamation.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1an4 | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: tears (exhausted) | karen situation mentioned | the lovely realities of a retail job

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

Sure, Pogue life was fun and relatively carefree, and Y/N wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but it did have its downfalls. Like when you see something you really like and you pick up extra shifts and work your ass off for it, but a Kook just has to ask their parents for it and boom - they have one they barely use or care for. Or when you accidentally spend too much money grocery shopping so now you have to pinch your pennies until next pay in two weeks. Or, like for Y/N right now, you have to work all day, every day because your crappy minimum wage job is severely understaffed and, even though they treat you horribly, you offer to pick up more shifts. 

  Y/N, right now, wasn’t too pleased with her status as a Pogue. Not when she is standing here, bored out of her mind and swaying on her feet as the middle aged Kook rambled on and on about something. Y/N wasn’t too sure what she was complaining about, truthfully, she stopped listening after the woman called her an incompetent child - which was the very first thing that came out of her pink smeared lips. 

  All she could actually focus on was how heavy her eyelids were, or how much she wanted to cut her feet off or just rip them right from her body. Or the dull ache that nestled itself right in the dip of her spine. Or how much she wishes she could just smash her kneecaps because, at this point, they were so tired and sore they were basically numb. It had been five days straight of her leaving school the second it was over and having her boyfriend, JJ, drive her to her work (a small hardware store), and then working to close. 

  She was exhausted, but she was falling behind on her road to buying a reliable car. Not the heap of rusted metal that has been sitting in her driveway for the past few months - completely broken. Luckily, because the owners did not want the possibility of being sued, they refused to let her work this weekend. That meant, once this woman was done with her tantrum, Y/N could get out of there and sleep for the foreseeable future. Well, at least until JJ had to get up for his shift delivering groceries tomorrow afternoon. She just hoped today wasn’t the one day JJ was late to pick her up. 

  “Mark my words, because you all know nothing, I will never come back here,” The lady slammed her hand against the counter Y/N stood at, the newly hired cashier shaking slightly behind her. “And I will be in contact with your manager and owner for reimbursement for any bills that come from this.” She sneered, gesturing to the empty bottle of antifreeze that was specifically made for diesel engines. That she put in her Land Rover. 

  “You have a nice night, the owner and manager will both be in after nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N drawled like a robot, ignoring the huff and snarky comment the woman made towards her for her lack of respect. There was no way in hell Y/N was apologising to her when Y/N and the manager were the ones who told the woman and her husband not to get that antifreeze, but her husband just wouldn’t listen. 

  “And I am telling them about your horrible behaviour towards me-” 

  “Ma’am,” Their night manager appeared from one of the aisles, looking annoyed. The clock had ticked by to read five minutes after close, meaning this woman was standing there ranting for over ten minutes. “We closed five minutes ago, if you have an issue, you can call and discuss this with our head manager and the owner tomorrow, but now you need to leave unless you want to front the money to pay us the overtime you are causing us because we won’t get paid.” He told her, pointing her towards the exit.

  She scoffed. “Of course I won’t pay you people to be incompetent at your jobs. I mean, how hard is it to sell people items? If anything, I should be getting money for you people for the damages you caused to my expensive Land Rover-”

  “Again, ma’am, you will have to bring that up with the people with more power than me,” The manager looked completely exhausted and annoyed with this woman. He grabbed the empty bottle from where she left it. “Now, you can either leave on your own or I will be contacting the authorities and they will remove you from the premises and you will be banned.” 

  He held out the empty bottle just before she snatched it, her nose turned up as she scoffed, turning on her heel and leaving out the door. “Okay, you two go, I will lock everything up.” He waved them off. Smiling thankfully, Y/N grabbed her thin sweater (which was JJ’s) and her empty plastic bottle of water, tossing it in the recycling bin.

  “Thank you, Gerry. Have fun tomorrow.” She waved bye to him as the new cashier trailed quietly behind her. Pulling the hoodie over her head, she left through the same door the woman had, seeing her fancy silver audi sitting in the parking lot. From inside, she could see her phone pressed to her ear as she yelled. 

  “Hey, sweets,” JJ greeted her, pushing off from the wall he leaned on. Y/N smiled, saying a quick ‘see you’ to the quiet girl as she bounded over towards her mother’s car. Her feet not moving, she held her arms open for JJ, signalling she wanted a hug. JJ complied, striding the short distance to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Naturally, her arms rested on his shoulders, enjoying the relief and comfort his hug brought her. It was like every ache in her body left and the weight that was crushing her lifted. “Long night?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  She hummed. “Long week.” She corrected him, snuggling into his chest. He laughed lightly, not wanting to jostle her as she clung to him. 

  “As much as I would love to stay here hugging, we should really get you some food then to bed.” JJ started to pull away. Whining, she released him, the growling and uncomfortable feeling in her stomach too persistent to ignore, but her face remained planted into his chest. 

  “Carry me to the bike?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke. 

  “Sorry, sweets, the bike needs gas and I don’t get paid until next week.” He informed her, hands on her shoulders and pulling her face from his chest, just enough for him to see her face. Instantly, he was met by a pout and a whine from her. 

  She blinked at him, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “But I’m too tired to walk, JJ.” She told him. And looking at her, he could see she was. The eye Bags under her eyes were so deep that the concealer couldn’t even hide them. Her shoulder drooped so much it looked like she was lugging a bookbag that weighed fifty tons on them. And, not to mention, the way her eyes blinked lazily, looking a second away from closing in slumber. 

  Aside from her appearance, he could tell over the past few days she was completely exhausted. The way she kept falling asleep on his shoulder at lunch or as they skipped their respective classes in favour of cuddles. She only skipped classes when she wasn’t sleeping properly or she was bored. The way she was extra clingy (like right now). Or how she nearly face-planted into her breakfast this morning. “I know, Sweets. But the bike didn’t even have enough gas to drive here.” 

  Sighing, tears welled in her eyes. A mixture of exhaustion and stress filled her, creating tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to waste all that gas driving me here and back home.” She weeped, sniffling as she blinked frantically. 

  JJ, nearly shitting himself at the sight of tears, jumped out of his skin in fright. “No, no, Sweets. Don’t cry,” He shushed, wrapping her up in his arms so tight her eyes could pop out of their sockets (not really because he would never hurt her). She sniffled into his sweater, tears hitting his sweater. “I didn’t waste gas driving you. I can never waste anything when it comes to you. I let the tank get that low, it’s my fault. I thought I had enough but John B hit a pothole the other day and I needed to go help him change the tire, that’s where the gas went. It’s all John B's fault for being on the mainland and driving like an idiot.” He rocked them from side to side until the tears slowed and the sniffles seemed to quiet down.

  “John B made you drive all the way to the mainland to help him change the tire?” She asked, pulling her face from his chest, but his arms didn’t let go over her, keeping her pressed to him. Her eyes were watery and puffy, a red tinge to the whites of her eyes. Her face was puffy and blotchy, trails of dried tears running down her cheeks. 

  JJ nodded, moving his arms to grip her face, thumbs lightly rubbing the tear streaks. “Yeah. And the idiot also decided to take everything except the jack out of the van so we had to go get a lug nut wrench which ate up more gas.” 

  “He never learns his lesson, does he?” She laughed. It was wet, her mouth thick from the tears still. 

  “No, he doesn’t,” He whispered, his voice low as he stared at her. “Now, let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing here,” He stepped back, putting distance between them. She watched with furrowed brows as he turned his back to her, crouching down, practically kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Hop up.” He told her, arms to his side, stuck towards her slightly, waiting for her to climb onto his back. 

  “JJ,” She exclaimed. “You’re not going to be able to carry me all the way to John B’s!” 

  “Yeah I can. I’m eighteen, not eighty,” He told her, pointing to his back. Sighing, she knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. On top of that, he would find another way to carry her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she hopped onto his back. His hands instantly gripped the bottom of her thighs, securing her there and he stood up to his full height. She let out a small squeal at the sudden change in height, kicking her feet slightly at the feeling of them not being on the ground. It always took her a second to get used to being held on his back. “And even when I’m eighty, I am sure as hell gonna still give you piggy back rides.” 

  “Sure, we’ll revisit that when you are hunched over because you gave me so many piggy back rides now.” She laughed, her arms lazily moving to rest closer to his neck, her chin resting on her bicep as he started to walk towards John B’s. 

  “Why do you think I am in such great shape? I am training to carry you around my whole life.” 

  “If that’s the case, might want to lay off the weed and the booze.” She poked him in the pectoral teasingly. He squeezed her thigh playfully back, laughing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek the best she could before resting her head back on her arm, letting the pattern of JJ’s gate relax her, her eyes growing heavier by the second. She really did hope that when they were eighty, they didn’t lose any of their playfulness - no matter if JJ could carry her or not.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Ctrl + Shift + L

Summary: Eli's way too shy to ever talk to you in person, so he helps himself to a late night stroll through your Cloud files to get to know you.

Pairing: CyberStalker!Elijah Kamski x afab!Reader

Word Count: -1,8k (This was supposed to be a drabble…)

Content Warnings: Smut 18+!, Stalking, Hacking, Female And Male Masturbation, Heavy Violations Of Privacy, Obsessive Behavior, Strong BDSM Themes

A/N: This has been eating away at my ability to think for the past few days…

Tagging: @blueberrypancakesworld @herprivateisland

I'm inside of your system,

I'm inside of your lair

To haunt you is my destiny

I'm a virus, impossible to find

I'm lurking in the shadows of your mind

- Virus By Priest

You wouldn't even have recognised him as he'd passed you on your way into the supermarket, automatic front doors swishing open as you squeezed yourself right past him as he was walking out, his hands clasping around filled grocery bags. Elijah knew that you'd be on your way now for your weekly shopping run and he just couldn't hold back a nervous smile as the light scent of your perfume crept up into his nose. Flowery, fresh and persistent enough to stay with him until he arrived back at home.

This, alongside plenty of others, was one of Elijah's little weekly rituals to keep up with you. He went shopping with you, not just groceries but sometimes also clothing or a bouquet of flowers from the florist right next to the little café you frequented nearly every morning for a tall coffee latte with exactly one pump of vanilla syrup. It always made him think of how your lips would taste like sugary sweet vanilla when you strolled into your workplace with the cardboard cup still in your hands. On the rare occasions when you fell sick, Eli had sat across from you in the waiting room, avid to keep his ears perked to make sure you were healthy and well again soon. None of that you'd ever noticed. Why would you? He was just one face of hundreds of thousand in this city and whilst Eli went unnoticed, he knew everything about you.

Really everything? That's at least what he'd been thinking until he decided to treat himself one Saturday night. After months of “looking after you” it had gotten a bit stale to be close to you by getting himself off to the few rare bikini pics he'd found by digging through your Instagram page. There was something about you, something he couldn't quite pinpoint but it told him that there was more to you, that he just had to venture far enough to find the thing you were hiding away and to him, a Cloud storage provider was nothing else than a server. A server that could be hacked just like every other and that he did in a heartbeat. He couldn't even really describe it as hacking because you weren't really careful with your almost very much the same passwords you used online. In general, it was a mixture of your dogs birthday and the name of your first real crush from middle school… Tyler. Ugh, Tyler, by now a divorced loser with a receding hairline and a latent porn addiction. Maybe a few changed in regards of capital letters but it took no more than two tries to get into your Cloud data storage account.

“Let's see what you got in here, sweety.” Elijah murmured to himself, excitement making his pulse pick up a beat whilst the pale light from the desktop reflected from his black- framed glasses. For a moment, nothing really caught his eye: files filled with family vacation pictures, an occasional photo dump of a night out in town from two years ago… nothing really new to Elijah until he spotted a folder titled “Teacher” that made his eyebrows arch up.

“The fuck's that?” He asked into his bedroom that was only illuminated by the shine emitting from his laptop that sat in his lap. You'd never worked as a teacher, not once and nothing even remotely close to that. After high school you went to college whilst working in retail hell to support yourself and afterwards you went on to write for a history magazine with your freshly accomplished degree. You'd never been a tutor or a teacher as far as Eli knew and even if…why would that be any data worthwhile to keep around? With slightly knit together brows, he clicked on the folder just to land in a subfolder with files dated in almost sterile accuracy. One folder for every week reaching back as far as nearly two years ago. As Elijah's stomach bubbled with the need to find out what this was all about, he double-clicked on the folder titled with the date from 3 weeks ago just for his eyes to widen and his for his jaw to nearly drop.

Trying to comprehend what was loading up on the screen right in front of his, Eli's mouth stood slightly agape as the only other physical reaction came from further down. Before his critical thinking had caught up to what he was looking at, his body surely had and he felt his cock unapologetically twitching against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Picture upon picture of your bare skin practically jumped at him and a heavy groan erupted from his chest as he clicked on the first image to start investigating somewhere. He nearly choked on his own spit as his eyes roamed over the photograph. Your face wasn't in frame, perhaps a safety measure stemming from the nature of the contents, but it didn't even need for Eli to know that it was your naked body that he saw. You'd been flipped on your stomach, wrists held together by cable ties as the dainty rings on your fingers gave away that it was without a doubt you. There was hardly any fabric covering your behind, just a pair a ripped fishnet-stockings stretching across your ass and thighs. A lack of panties practically presenting your thoroughly soaked and glistening cunt to the viewer.

“Uh…oh…OH…” It trickled from Elijah's lips as he moved the cursor to click for the next picture. Your posture was nearly the same but instead of smooth skin underneath the skimpy stockings, it showed your ass all bruised up in colors ranging from a bright red to deep purples, almost like a sadomasochistic nebula painted to your skin by brute force and he didn't know how to feel about that. The sight right in front of him turned him on beyond measure but at the same time…how have you been with someone he didn't know of? How had you been able to keep that side of yours from his ever watching eyes? Eli felt like scolding himself, a surge of white-hot rage jolting through the pit of his stomach for being so utterly incompetent and not seeing what had been right in front of him the entire time! Your loose sweaters, your liking for mainly long-sleeve tops and just softly form-fitting pants…it all came together now but on top of all of that it should be him, always should've been and not some strange rando you hid away somewhere in your Cloud files…

The potent mixture made out of rage and arousal ebbed through Elijah as he continued clicking his way through the files, pictures of your naked body in deliciously compromising poses causing his jaw to clench and teeth to grind with the same fervor his cock pressed against his slacks. He was so agonizingly hard that it almost hurt just for his fingers to brush around the outlines of his hard on. In a vain attempt to soothe himself, Eli gently cupped himself with the full width of his palm, the careful pressure aimed to ease the constant throbbing as his fingers fondled with his tightening balls.

“Fucking hell, babe, what's all of this, hm? You're gonna drive me insane…” The words came as a hardly choked back moan as Eli moved his hand above the fabric of his sweatpants. Up and down in slow, careful motions to not just explode and gush into his shorts like a pent-up virgin on the first date but the first eager drops of pre-cum soaked through already.

Elijah kept it together, softly stroking and pleasuring himself whilst clicking through your pictures like they were his personal peep show. He tried so hard to not just run with his desires, to drag it out and to savor every moment in which he body shivered with arousal but after a few minutes and several naughty pictures, he came across a full on video file and in that instant, he could've sworn that Christmas came early this year.

With his heart raging inside the ribcage, he hit the spacebar for the video to start playing and as soon as a pitch-black screen lightened up to reveal a shameless close-up recording of you fingering your flushed and swollen pussy with not two but three fingers that pushed inside again and again whilst your needy moans echoed through the speakers of Eli's laptop, he felt his throat render dry. Every word seemed stuck in his throat like a lump he just couldn't swallow no matter how hard he tried. With reddened cheeks, he watched you fuck yourself in high resolution right on his damned laptop screen and couldn't hold back any longer. Exhaling a shallow, trembling breath, he led his hand to slide past the waistband of his slacks, helping him to slide both the pants and his shorts just down enough to free his aching cock that he started fisting the very second he had the fabric off of him.

“You make me so fucking hard and so fucking desperate. It's so damn pathetic. Should be me who does that to you.” Elijah’s thoughts now just ran free as the rapidly rising arousal intoxicated his mind. It didn't take long for his balls to tighten up again, his cock in his hands growing rigid with every next stroke before his entire load spurted out onto the keyboard and up to his navel in thick white ropes. His orgasm rippled through him in a brutal outburst, making him feel lightheaded for seconds after the gushes of sticky cum flowed all over his hand too.

“Fuck!” Eli whined out before taking a deep breath, half-lidded eyes still trained on the screen that depicted you shoving your fingers knuckle-deep inside your wet cunt anew. With a slim grin on his face, he contemplated how long it would take before he could again.

[piratefishmama]

Crossing the Line | Part 12

Using the word ‘Conflicted’ for what Eddie was currently feeling was… an understatement. On the one hand, good lord he’d almost came in his jeans from just a tongue down his throat, a very very talented tongue belonging to a very very attractive man. On the other, that man had basically just pretended to like his music to get into his pants.

Eddie had never had that happen before. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

He did, however, know that he was ignoring the DM on Insta from that very same attractive man, the message full of blushy emojis and how he’d ‘forgotten’ to leave his number, dropping the digits right there in plain view.

He had Steve Harrington’s personal phone number. Holy shit.

He was ignoring it. Left it on read. Didn’t know what to do with it. If push came to shove and he made a decision in Steve’s favour then he’d just claim he was busy with the band at the shitty diner after the show. He stuffed a handful of lukewarm fries in his mouth, ketchup smearing the corners of his lips. If he decided against Steve then… he’d block him and forget all about him, and hope he wouldn’t show up at the coffee shop.

“I mean, if they were earplugs, then they were pretty shit earplugs, Eds” Gareth was the only one supplying a sound argument, he had ulterior motives though, he had bias to stick up for Steve! He was aiming to get the hell out of retail, and it showed.

“What?” Frank cut in with that expression on his face that blatantly said are you hearing this shit?

“I mean, he answered us all pretty easily, he had a full conversation with us! Didn’t even seem like he was struggling to hear us. Earplugs would have made it difficult to hear, right? Maybe they were something else!” All very valid points. Or… a very valid singular point.

“No he didn’t, dude, he vaguely responded to Jeff’s babbling, that he definitely could have vaguely heard through the earplugs, then left. I dunno about you but sometimes, I can definitely hear around earplugs, they’re probably just the cheap ones you get at the airport or something.”

“Dude what is your deal?”

“What’s my deal? Why are you so pro Steve Harrington?”

“He’s sick of Paul.” Jeff supplied helpfully around the straw of his chocolate milkshake.

“It’s Ralph, Paul quit last month remember?”

“Whaaatt Paul quit? Man what about him and Rhonda?"

“That’s why he quit! She got a promotion, and they couldn’t work toge—what am I even, this isn’t about Paul and Rhonda!”

“Shut up!!” Eddie’s outburst silenced the others, and also gained the attention of the drunk teens across the diner, they didn’t move though, stared for a second, before going back to their terrible ‘night out’ food. “What should I do?” He couldn’t make a decision on his own. There were too many what ifs, too many how dare he’s, too many thoughts and they were all so very loud. His friends talking over each other really wasn’t helping. “Should I… confront him? Should I just ask him about it, should I ignore him completely and hope he just goes away?”

“I think, you should talk to him.” Eddie looked up, the returning figure of the angel of Corroded Coffin, his original best friend, honorary band member. Chrissy. The girl carrying two shakes, followed closely by Nancy. “Listen, ignoring Gareth’s need to get away from retail, sorry Gare”

“It’s cool, I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Ignoring Jeff’s blatant hero worship.”

“He’s known worldwide, he did modelling in Japan, Chris! He’s a massive star!”

“And ignoring Frank’s scepticism.”

“The only sane person here you mean. Nobody recognised him tonight, Jeff, worldwide my ass.”

“Ignoring, them.” Chrissy sighed, placing hers and Nancy’s shakes down before climbing into the booth beside Eddie, Nancy following suit forcing him up against the wall. “I think you should give him a chance. He’s come all this way, he paid for tickets to see you even though he obviously didn’t have to. Did you talk to him while the others were out of the room?”

“Mhm”

“And did he talk back without any issue?”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay, so, these earplugs might not even be earplugs. There’s plenty of things that they could be! Hell, he could have issues with his eardrums for all we know! That’s pretty common in the music industry” loud instruments, huge speakers around you, he could have just been born with it for all they knew “—and there’s earplug looking things that help with eardrum issues, they could even be those sneaky 'invisible' hearing aids! You should talk to him, it’s the only way you’re gonna know for sure.”

“You just wanna flirt with his friend some more.”

“Frank I swear to god.”

“She’s right” Nancy sighed “try conjuring an ulterior motive for me you little shit.” Nancy levelled Frank with a sharp glare, he wisely chose to stay silent. She looked back to Eddie with a small smile “He spoke with me too, even over the music near the bar so I don’t think they were earplugs either. And you like him, right?”

“…I really do.” He hadn’t at first, he’d made assumptions, he’d jumped to conclusions, he’d let his music snobbery get the best of him, but then he did his research. Then he looked the guy up, his accomplishments, his skills, his general personality that shined like sunlight around the right people, he took what’d happened at the coffee shop into consideration, and then the kiss… his lips still tingled, his neck still tingled! His body still craved what’d been abruptly cut short. “He’s… he’s really nice, Nance…”

“Yeah, he seems really nice, and if he’s not? I have a revolver in my glove box.” Eddie let out a soft breath of a laugh, which lit Nancy’s face up as if she’d taken that as a personal victory. “Reply to the text, or DM, or whatever he’s sent you, I saw you looking at it on the way over here. Set something up and ask him when you get there, you’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“…We’re supposed to be having dinner tomorrow night where he’s staying, just me and him.” And he was… so nervous didn’t seem quite the right word for how nervous he actually was. What would happen if he went? That kiss had turned filthy so quickly and he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it so badly, would tomorrow be the night? Should he prepare or—

“Great! Set up a time and find out the address.” Nancy didn’t even give him time to step onto the spiral. “It’ll be okay, we’re a call away if something goes wrong, or if he turns out to be an asshole, alright?”

“…Alright. Now let me dip my fries in your shake.”

“Ew, no!”

Part 14

[quietblueriver]

Wading into an Imodna au? Meet equine therapist Imogen, children’s vlogger Laudna and her co-host Pate, and the various other current and future employees of Camp Prudaj.

-

Imogen was tossing an eggshell into the trash, her ramen bubbling happily on the stove, when her phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.

She gave herself one moment of exhausted frustration before taking a deep breath and preparing to answer. This was a new ritual, in the months since she sent in her MSW applications.

She hated speaking with strangers. Hated it. But declining risked the option of panic-ignoring the voicemail or, worse, having to leave one of her own, and she had years of practice working retail for some of the most unpleasant assholes in, she’d wager, a 300 mile radius, so she could manage the almost unfailingly polite university employees who had begun to call her about interviews and application supplements, and, most excitingly, scholarship offers.

She reminded herself of this last possibility specifically as she said, in her best customer service voice, “This is Imogen.”

“Ms. Temult. I’m glad I caught you. My name is Ariks Ehsteross. I’m a friend of Wilmer’s.”

Well. That was unexpected. It took her a beat longer than it probably should have to answer.

“Hi, Mr…”

Shit. Shit. The source of the call, not to mention hearing her boss called Wilmer, had distracted her so badly she hadn’t paid good enough attention and now she was going to butcher this man’s name.

He laughed, not unkindly, before she could spiral too much further. “Eshteross. But Ariks is absolutely fine.”

No way in hell she’d be calling any friend of Mr. Faramore’s—Wilmer’s—by their first name like that, but it was a nice thing to say.

“Sorry, Mr. Eshteross. Um, what can…what can I do for you, sir?”

“Well, Ms. Temult, do you have a few minutes to talk?”

She eyed her ramen, the clock, and the burner, resigned to the loss of her egg.

“Of course.”

It felt, strangely, like an interview, and thankfully, she’d had enough of those recently to answer well despite her lack of preparation and, well, total lack of information about what, exactly she might interviewing for.

She must’ve done well enough, though, because fifteen minutes and one surreptitious removal of a saucepan later, Eshteross said, a smile evident in his voice, “Thank you for that. I know this is out of the blue, and I do apologize. I hope to make up for it now.”

“It’s not…it’s no problem, sir.”

“Very polite of you, after twenty minutes on the phone with a strange old man.” She was silent, because she was entirely unsure what to say to that, but he seemed not to expect a response, chuckling to himself before he said, still cheerful, “Now, Ms. Temult, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

-

It had been a good proposition. Great, even. Nearly perfect, she might say, if she weren’t so wary of jinxing it.

Estheross was looking to resurrect a summer program on his farm, and he wanted Imogen to help lead equine therapy. He’d run it for its founder for nearly two decades before she got sick and they made the decision to close while she recovered.

“Unfortunately, she died a few years later. And I…” he cleared his throat. If he were her daddy, or Mr. Faramore, or basically any other man she knew, she would’ve tactfully pretended she didn’t notice.

For some reason, he felt different, so she did something different.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” It was immediate and, from what she could tell, sincere rather than embarrassed. “Ellia was a wonderful woman, and many of us felt her loss deeply.” Another clearing of the throat. “Which is, I fear, why it took me much longer than it should have to get the program up and running again. It’s been nearly a decade since we last had children on the farm, and that’s far too long. I’m sick of the quiet, and we’ve got too much of everything here to let it go to waste.

“I understand you’re likely heading this way for graduate school.”

She hadn’t made the decision, officially, but unless she got miracle money from U of Issylra (and even then, she wasn’t sure she wanted something somehow more rural than Gelvaan), he was right.

“Yes, sir. I haven’t made a final decision yet, but I’m…it’s looking like I’ll be up there to start in the fall.”

“Well, from what I hear, anywhere would be lucky to have you, but you’ll forgive me if I say that selfishly, I hope you land in Jrusar.”

And that was interesting, because Imogen was fairly certain Mr. Faramore didn’t like her that much. Or really at all, if she was honest. She wondered what exactly Mr. Eshteross had heard from him. Maybe more importantly, what he hadn’t heard.

She’d waited too long again.

“Thank you, sir. That’s…that’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. And of course, there’s no pressure, but I do hope you’ll think about my offer. And either way please let me know if you’re coming this way. I’d love to have you for supper, even if you decide work at Prudaj’s isn’t for you.”

Turned out Imogen was much better at dealing with assholes than men with manners, apparently, as she once again found herself a bit speechless.

“Thank you. Again. I really appreciate it.”

“Absolutely. Good luck, Ms. Temult. Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

Her egg was, as predicted, rubber by the time they hung up, and she ate her lukewarm noodles around it while she thought about Eshteross’s offer, clumsy as always with her chopsticks.

She was qualified for the job. Faramore knew that, and it was obvious from her LinkedIn, which she hated updating and avoided checking if at all possible but which had gotten a suspicious number of views in the last three weeks.

It made note of her equine therapy certification, which she’d received while she was in college, and her volunteer and later paid work at the program affiliated with the local university for two summers and her last year of school. It had been a few years since she’d been there in a long-term way, but she still did a few weeks for them at least twice a year, and her profile reflected that, too.

She felt a twinge of smug pride as she thought about her daddy’s regular and disapproving reminder that she was forgoing a paycheck for no reason every time she went over there, no matter if Mr. Faramore gave his approval and liked being able to put her certification on his website. It was ugly, but she was alone with her ramen and a job offer, so it lingered longer than it otherwise might’ve.

She added another tick in the pro column as she picked over the spinach in the bowl. It would be an additional paycheck and a steady summer gig. She’d get to do work that she knew she loved and get actual money for it. Not only that, it would be relevant for her program.

By the time she was slurping down the last of her broth, rubber egg sitting forlornly on a triple folded paper towel waiting for the trash, she was wondering how hard it would be to get her time at Prudaj’s counted as experiential learning. Eshteross said they had certified therapists on staff…

A week later, when she got the official scholarship offer from U of Issylria—generous but not enough to compete with Jrusar—she made two calls.

First, to the Jrusar admissions officer who had been ridiculously nice to her through this whole process. She was more enthusiastic than Imogen could’ve hoped, and it buoyed Imogen into an almost giddy state for the five minutes it took her to finish the intent to enroll form.

Second, she called Eshteross.

“Oh, wonderful! I couldn’t be more excited that you’ll be coming to join our team.” He sounded, incredibly, like he very much meant it. “Actually, there’s someone near Gelvaan that I’ve been looking at, and I wonder if you wouldn’t mind having coffee with her and giving me your impression?”

She worried, more than a little, about how much faith this man was putting in her but relaxed as he added, “I’ll be sending down a manager, Orym, to do a formal interview if all goes well. I did things a little differently with you, but, well, I’ve known Wilmer since we were children, and frankly, if you’ve lasted this long with him, that’s its own endorsement.”

He was right, of course, but she couldn’t exactly say that, so she said nothing for the second it took for him to fill in the blank himself.

“No need to respond to that. Apologies. In any case, her name is Laudna Bradbury, and she’s an…interesting art therapist. Academically qualified but she now runs a somewhat popular show on…the apps, apparently? You might’ve seen it. She does crafts, and there’s a stuffed rat-like creature called Pate who tells stories.”

Quite the sell. She was glad to be able to say, with honesty, “I’m not really on…the apps.”

“Ah, me either. Fearne, another…well, she does a little of everything really, but I suppose manager is as good a title as any, found her.

“She’s in the Taloned Highlands right now, it seems. Not terribly far from Gelvaan. I have her contact info, if you wouldn’t mind sitting down with her? Maybe Pate will join you!”

While he laughed at his own joke, Imogen forced herself to wait to look up Laudna’s name until after their call and tried not to get carried away imagining a rat…creature telling stories to children.

“I’d be happy to. Of course.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll send you her information now.”

[shmaptainwrites]

*knocks politely*

Hello hi!

Requesting Bobby with the “kiss me” prompt. Hehe okay byeeeeee

bestie i’ve got youuuu this prompt is so perfect for shenanigans so shenanigans is what you get

Pairings: Bobby Nash x GN!Reader

Warnings: they are two halves of one braincells i stg, breaking and entering, general idiocy, they’re just…so stupid

Amateur Sleuth

“I swear there’s something illegal going on there but no one believes me! Doesn’t help that I don’t have any proof to prove them wrong,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair at the dining table in the fire hall, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You are absolutely insane for spying on your neighbours, you know that, right?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on Eddie, if you saw what I saw, you’d be snooping.”

“Which was what exactly?” Buck asked as he joined you.

“She says she has an Etsy store, but people only ever come and buy stuff from her in the dead of night.”

“So like 10:30 for you?” Hen teased and you lightly shoved her.

“No like 3 am, I’m not joking,” you said. “And I found her instagram and that girl is living well beyond her means for a retail worker who has an Etsy shop on the side. I’m talking about vacations every other month, she bought a Mercedes recently, something is up for sure.”

“I agree,” Bobby jumped into the conversation.

“Thank you! Finally someone with some common sense,” you exclaimed. “Now if only I could figure out what the hell she’s up to.”

“You need to stake her place out,” Bobby said simply.

“You say that as if you’ve done it before, Cap,” Chimney chuckled.

“Maybe once or twice off the record, but with good reason and my hunches were right.”

“What do I have to pay you to come over tonight and help me figure this out?” you laughed, but the whole team knew you were being dead serious.

“Just a cup of coffee, I’ll come over at 11,” he smiled and you clapped your hands together victoriously.

“5 bucks says this is gonna blow up in your faces,” Eddie took out his wallet and put the cash on the table.

“I’ll take that action,” Hen nodded. “I’ve seen Bobby do his thing, there’s a slight chance this could go right.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Hen,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes on all of you, this is gonna go great.”

After your shift was over you headed home and ate something for dinner before napping for a few hours so you could manage to stay up late that night.

Your alarm went off just ten minutes before Bobby arrived and you had a pot of coffee hot and ready when he came inside.

“So where does this neighbour of yours live?” he asked.

“She’s the apartment directly across the hall,” you pointed. “If you look through the peephole you can see, that’s how I’ve been doing most of my spying.”

“Alright, we can use that and since you’re on the first floor if the opportunity presents itself, maybe we can see if there’s any clues from the window.”

“Man, I didn’t even think of that,” you chuckled. “Oh this is gonna be so fun.”

You poured Bobby a cup of coffee and you waited eagerly for one of your neighbour’s customers to show up. After a while, no one had come and your neighbour had left the house a while ago so Bobby suggested to get a look through the window.

“We’ve gotta be quiet though, I’m not the only snoopy neighbour, if someone sees me they’ll call the cops for sure,” you noted, grabbing Bobby’s hand and leading him out of the building and to the rear where you could peek in through the windows.

Some of the blinds were drawn and others were open so you got looks where you could, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“This can’t be it,” you shook your head.

“I know, somethings not sitting right with me,” Bobby agreed, there had to be something you weren’t seeing.

You leaned against one of the windows in defeat and looked over at Bobby in shock when it shifted. You exchanged knowing glances, no one would find out about this part.

Since you knew the neighbours better, you stayed on lookout to make sure you didn’t get caught while Bobby carefully climbed inside and searched for clues.

He took a few photos here and there so they could go over them later, but what he was really looking for was what she could possibly be selling that was making her so much money.

On the table he found a date book and quickly flipped through it, finding some potentially useful information on the sales, but before he could do anything about it, he heard your voice quietly, but urgently exclaim,

“Shit! She’s back! Bobby you’ve gotta get the hell outta there, but just as he was going to climb out the window you saw something that told you he should wait a moment. So you hid behind a bush and waited for another neighbour to go inside before practically grabbing Bobby and pulling him out of her apartment and closing the open window.

You both ran inside and you fumbled for your keys as your heard footsteps coming closer. Honestly, you thought it looked pretty incriminating, but it was possible the adrenaline was getting in the way of your better judgment.

The footsteps became even louder and for some reason your keys were not in your pocket, so in a desperate attempt to save face you looked Bobby dead in the eye and said,

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he quietly exclaimed like he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time.

“Just trust me Bobby! Kiss me!”

Just as he took your face in his hands and he pulled you towards him you wrapped your arms around his neck and his lips came crashing down on yours. You kissed feverishly as your neighbour came past you and to her door, only breaking apart to nervously chuckle as you made eye contact with her.

“Tinder am I right?” you shrugged and she smiled knowingly before nodding and giving you a thumbs up of approval before going inside her place.

“Tinder? Really?” Bobby asked.

“It was the only thing I could think of!” you slapped a hand to your forehead and shook your head.

“Just like kissing me was the only thing you could come up with?” he asked with a raised brow.

You finally found your keys, unlocking the door and letting Bobby go inside before you.

“Okay, maybe the adrenaline got my wires crossed,” you admitted. “But I could say the same for you Captain Nash, you really committed to the bit for that kiss.”

“Well,” he coughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe my wires were crossed too.”

“Maybe we should cross them again,” you suggested, coming a little closer, “And never tell anyone about what happened tonight, like ever.”

“I can live with that,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing another kiss to your lips.

At the end of the day, both of you knew there was no one else you’d rather commit a felony with, and really, what more could you want in life than a partner in crime.

[thelittleliars]

P.S. I Want You | Chapter 2

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: mention of suicide

Words: 2.4K

AN: This is only a filler chapter, I'm sorry if you got excited. Chapter 3 is going to be full of fluff though. Depending on how creative my mind is going to be, I'll post 1-2 postcards every day for the the next 5 days! P.S. I Want You Masterlist

The postcard from Berlin was her last one. It was very short as if she was mad at something, more like at everything and everyone. You started to miss seeing the postcards in your mailbox, that she sent you every two-ish weeks. It had been three and a half weeks since the last one came from Berlin and even though you knew there still was a chance that one could come any day, your hopes were low and decreased with each passing day. 

You came home late from an extremely exhausting day at work, people were annoying the fuck out of you by asking the most stupid questions and tried to reason you over prices. Working in retail was not an easy job at all. Most days were frustrating and irritating. Why you chose to work there is something you questioned every day, it didn't even pay well. But a job is a job and you had bills to pay. 

After putting in the gate code and going through it, you stopped by your mailbox and got everything out. As you briefly looked through them you spotted a colorful postcard but not wasn't just a postcard from around the world, no, it was a postcard from Budapest. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Natasha being in the city or she were here and didn't have time to visit. You longed to see her again, your body and mind basically craves her, which was not something you expected to happen after just one day of knowing her. You flipped the card around and your lit up face fell immediately. 

Y/N Y/L/N

It was the first words on the card. Natasha never wrote like this and the handwriting also wasn't hers. 

While you take your precious time to read this, I'm already waiting for you in your apartment. Hurry up.

Yelena

Yelena was here, does that mean that Natasha might also be with her? They're sisters after all and the last time you saw them they both were together on the run. You skipped the elevator and ran straight up the stairs. Then hastily opening the door only to see one figure sitting in the dark. You saw Yelena as you turned on the lights, she grinned at you when she saw the disappointment written all over your face. "I see, you expected the other sister." She was everything but offended by your reaction. In fact she was glad you were disappointed since that showed her you had as much interest in her sister as Natasha had in you. The redhead actively hid her interest in you from her little sister, she didn't utter a word about you or the postcard she always sent but Yelena being Yelena, she knew all about it. 

"I don't know what you mean." You finally closed the door behind you and moved further in your apartment, you sat down on a chair and untied your shoes. "Sure. You got a nice collection there." Yelena pointed to your huge mirror that hung at the wall. You put all the new postcards there with a tiny bit of old ones since it would have look empty then. "Have you been traveling lately?" She teased you, knowing that most of them were from Natasha but Yelena didn't dare to turn them around to see if she was 100% correct since she didn't want to cross a line with your privacy. "I got you a card from Budapest. Picking one was hell though like why the fuck are there so many? And tons of different prices?"

"Yelena?" You tried to pronounce her name right, it had been months since Natasha first and last said her name. The women nodded. "I hope I pronounced it correct. I heard it from Natasha when you guys were here but my memory isn't the best. Back to the point.. why are you here?" 

"Well I was around and I thought of visiting you so here I am." Yelena's answer was short. She could tell you the real reason why she was here, the trace for two of the rest of girls from the red room lead back here. She freed one girl earlier, the other one were still laying low so she had to surveil her before taking actions. And what better way was to end the day with visiting her sisters crush. "Need a place to stay for the night?" You asked her. The exhaustion was suddenly hitting you. All you wanted to do was take a shower and fall into bed. "If you're offering then yes." Nodding your head you offered her your bed or the sofa before jumping into the shower. When you came out the bathroom in pajamas 20 minutes later, your bed was empty. You took a look at the sofa and there you saw Yelena comfortably lying. Before going to bed yourself, you quickly got an extra blanket for the other woman and put it over her. 

Sleep did not come for you, though you thought this time would have been different since you felt extremely tired and exhausted. You sighed in frustration while during around once again. The whole apartment is quite expect for the air condition which you forgot to turn off. That noise irritated you a lot but it also helped you not to fall into an extremely overthinking state. You did think about what it would be like if you saw Natasha again. Would it be awkward? Probably.. you didn't know how to act around her what you actually felt for her. You barely knew a thing about her but that one night of talking and her including things you talked about in the postcards had you in all kind of butterfly feelings. 

Would Yelena talk more about her sister if you asked her? Did she know where Natasha is right now? What if you try to get the redheads phone number from her? After a while the most important question came to your mind, is she still single?? You remembered her telling you she didn't have any time for romance but that could have changed and she might found someone already. The thought made you sad since you two kinda hit it off and it made you feel more alive. You wouldn't even mind waiting for her if you knew that she wanted more from you too. This overthinking is pathetic. You sat up and grabbed the book from your nightstand, you already were halfway through, you only started last night but what else could you do when you were not able to fall asleep? 

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

Yelena stayed four more days with you. She was gone early in the morning before you woke up but was back at your apartment when you came back home from work. You didn't talk much to each other but she teased you each time you came back home with the mail in your hand. It was cruel of her to do so, she knew what went down in Berlin and why her sister stopped writing the postcards since she was there when it all happened. 

After two months of sitting in a private facility and getting interrogated by General Ross, they made a deal with Natasha and the other Avengers who committed a crime when the Civil War happened. Natasha was allowed to help Yelena with finding the last girls from the red room and freeing them. One trace lead back to Berlin. German authorities weren't so keen on having one Avenger back in their country after the mess they had made with the Civil War. Yelena and her sister tried the best to follow the law, they did well considering a bunch of people recognized the redhead and wanted a photo with her. Unfortunately that drew a bit of attention and one of the red room girls fled before they could release the red dust. The chase took time, the girl knew exactly where to go at the right time, the second the sister duo came very close to catching her, she got hit by a train that nobody but her saw coming. Since there was footage as evidence, Yelena and Natasha were able to go back home quickly, the girl's cause of death was ruled as suicide. It was hard for both women, they didn't want anyone to get hurt, that's why Yelena's new strategy was to surveil the girls and then find the best moment to release the dust. And until she had time to go to the recommended therapist, she copes by creating different versions how the last mission could have ended. Then she found out it helps to tease the hell out of you, her mind goes to a different place, somewhere where everything is good and where she could be normal. She felt like she could be her normal self around you, you have a chaotic calming aura that she liked. 

On the last day, the blonde women was sneaking around to take a photo of you being busy in the kitchen. She sent it to her bigger sister with the caption "Get yourself a wife that cooks.". Natasha was brooding the second she saw where her younger sister was. She did appreciate the photo of you, she thought you looked incredible beautiful, even more so than all the months ago when you first met. The jealously of not being able to go back though was taking the upper hand of her. This new emotion added with the not healed trauma she got from Berlin was too overwhelming so she went back to the training room and worked out until Clint came and forced her to take a break.

"So are you actually a great cook?" She asked you while watching you work at the stove. You turned your face towards her, raising an eyebrow, then shaking your head. "No, I count myself as an awful cook but I still can do some decent dishes. I used to be a lot worse." It was the truth, you used to basically burn the kitchen down but at some point you got the hang of it and didn't burn anything anymore. You're far from being a good cook though. "Are you a good cook?" Yelena shrugged. "I can make a mean mac & cheese. I'm proud of that but I don't think I can cool anything else. I'm also too much on the move for that." Natasha was also too much on the move, you knew that since she told you she was too busy for romance so this was your chance to ask her sister more about her. "Are you and your sister always this much on the move or is there where you guys actually can take a break?" 

"We have breaks but they're short." She nodded with a smile appearing on her face. "You know if you wanna know about my sister all you have to do is ask me directly." You turned your head back to the stove, not wanting her to see you blush as you were caught by her, it was already embarrassing enough. Was it actually obvious that you wanted to know more about Natasha? "I don't know why you're saying that." Yelena smirked, you made it too easy for her to tease and annoy you. "Ohh okay. So I can tell my sister that you're not interest in her." That made you turn around fast, at first you wanted to stop her but then you started to think. If she'd tell her that then there was absolutely  no chance for you anymore. But is there even a chance to begin with? Natasha told you that she never had the time for romance, so even if she was interested in you and had a bit more time, she was still an agent and you guys lived thousands of miles apart. The realization pained you deeply. You tried to hide your feelings and expressions by turning back around. The noodles you made were done. You went into auto-mode, turning the stove off, pouring off the water and placing it on a cold space. "Maybe it's the best you do." Natasha was a spark, something exciting that got you out of your boring everyday life. And this fantasy you have of her coming back to you and continue whatever you two had was delusional thinking, maybe even turning into maladaptive daydreaming. Yelena was stunned by your answer, she was not expecting your mood to turn 180, if teasing you this way didn't work she has another way. "The best for you? Could be but not for my sister. She'd be crushed to know her crush isn't interested in her." 

The information got your heartbeat going fast, heat rose to your cheeks, you didn't know how to act since you had never many people be interested in you. A idea popped into your mind, even with your wishful delusional thinking, you hoped this would be something Natasha liked and appreciate no matter how this thing ended up between you two. You ran into your bedroom without a word to the blonde woman who looked confused at your sudden movement. One empty postcard from Budapest laid next to your bed, it was your bookmark once, you gripped it and ran back to the kitchen. You quickly wrote something and handed it to Yelena. "Please give this to your sister?" 

She nodded. "I will. Thanks for letting me stay here. I have to go now." The tiny ex-assassin would have stayed longer but your behavior confused her too much. "Any time! Hope I'll see you sometime again." The second Yelena was out of your apartment she turned the postcard and read what you wrote. She knew she swore she'd never do that but it was necessary to help you and Natasha to come together.

Dear Natasha or Nat (whichever you prefer),

I appreciate all your postcards very much. I feel flattered that you think about me and try to get postcards for me. I guess I found a way to answer you back now huh? And it's probably my only chance.. I haven't heard from you in a while, I hope you're alright and don't have any nightmares. 

If you have time and a phone hit me up: +36 30 456 7890 . 

~ Y/N 

Taglist: @dcrogoy , @arcturusseer , @comet-forgot-you , @arualdcg , @kksalexa , @imnatobsessed , @presser24 , @00alycia , @wannabe-fic-reader , @lonewalker17 , @mrsrushman , @ctrlamira , @red1culous

[mythosidhesdollhouse]

Soooooooooooo I'm afraid your friend in doll collecting may have gone a tiny bit off the rails today. IN MY DEFENSE--I just got a refund from Aliexpress for an order that failed to arrive within their 'Delivery in 30 days or it's free!' window. So technically the money had already been spent. I just...stretched it a bit further ;p

The cloth doll in the middle is from HarperIman, another Black women-owned toy company. Their main business focuses on made-to-order, customizable, handmade linen dolls in the 18"-20" range, but they also have a line of 'petite' 14" handmade dolls that can be found at Target, FAO, and a few other retailers. The one I purchased, Sadie, is of the latter variety. I've seen this brand around for awhile, but this is the first time I've felt compelled to add one of their creations to my collection. I have a soft spot (LOL) for cloth dolls, but I'm also rather particular about them, so I don't have very many. This one spoke to me, she just feels like a good fit. I'm already having thoughts about embroidering flowers on her overalls ^_^

(Screenshots of some of the more bespoke dolls available directly from the HarperIman site)

I swear I made a genuine effort to choose between the two HBC girls and only get one for now...but I just couldn't. I made the mistake of browsing their Instagram, and the hair on these dolls is SO GOOD I am powerless to resist. I cannot wait to start designing outfits and accessories for them!

*sigh* so yes...I probably should have saved that money, but I'm also not exactly sorry it's gone...BUT REALLY THIS TIME, no more dolls. For a good minute. Between these latest shenanigans and Isabela and Moana and the factory Blythe from AE that hypothetically is still on the way, albeit extremely late...I have six dolls in transit. I need to slow the hell down and focus on making clothes for all these girls. I will make an honest effort to not go on ebay or Mercari or anywhere else I might be tempted by a deal at least until the end of the month. After that we'll see XD

[applesontheground]

mirage 🎠

here go the first of my three vignettes for my fave horror protags of 2022, the haywoods + their adopted mentally unstable retail worker (angel).

first up is my fuckin cowboy... ❤

SFW | Word Count: 832 | OJ Haywood x GN Reader 🎼: x (OF COURSE I HAVE A NOPE PLAYLIST THIS MOVIE STILL STICKS TO MY BRAIN-)

You considered the fact that there were many people before you who spent too much time alone out in somewhere so arid and so silent and would start seeing things after awhile.

...Hearing things, though?

You stared at the sky for another long pause, hands still on the fence that kept your boyfriend's horses secured as you tried to catch that noise again. It wasn't an animal kind of screaming, one that mountain lions or even strange birds would be so close to calling. Nothing like an imitation.

It was a person, a person who was experiencing a deep sense of danger. How the hell it sounded as though it came spiraling from the sky, you weren't sure. That's what was making your slog around in your usual chores come to a halt in the first place to hear it again.

"[Y/N]." Speaking of your boyfriend, you heard the mellow hum from the other side of the pen, "[Guy/girl], you good?" When you didn't answer yet, raising a hand to quiet him as you kept listening, you then realized you were being silly.

Your eyes fell to your shoes, and you huffed, “J, you’d tell me if I was crazy, right?” From the other side of the fence, he mumbled, “Mm hm.”

You turned to him, and clarified, “OJ, really. I’m not the only one hearing shit, right?” His eyes cast over to you, chin settled on one arm as he merely let that question sit in the air. Your eyes slid from his, combing through your mind one last time before he finally replied, “No, [Y/N]. Sometimes I hear it, too. Sounds too much like us to be any animal.”

He then mosied over, minding the pacing horses to stand next to you from the other side of the gate. You slid across the hot surface that had been baking in the sun, settling your shoulder against the part of his arm that was now leaning over it. He was stock still as you looked at the sky with him and you murmured, “Is it the wind? We don’t get any animals this far out that can mimic like that, right?”

He hummed again, but then gently nodded with his head to the blemish almost straight ahead of the two of you in the plain horizon, fairly visible from where you two stood at the edge of the first corral by the house out at the Haywood Ranch. OJ commented, “Think it’s that rodeo show he puts on. All that alien shit, maybe it's some kind of special effect.”

You caught the circle of tall lightposts out in the dust, the two of you watching now in a stale silence. It wasn’t the usual peace that OJ and you would share, sometimes for hours on end (which drove his sister Emerald crazy whenever she found the time to visit the two of you), but more like a heavy rock settled in your stomach that came from knowing what that neighboring park represented.

The owner had been making deals even before OJ had taken over his family business with Em and it was still their father in charge. He knew he had the prices to not only push the Haywoods off this part of the land that they had lived on for so long, but also take their family's horses with it. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but according to Em he had been a child star trying to chase after the glory, the money…whatever it was he had lost back then.

It still made you desolate at times to realize Otis had never gotten to be your father in law. A freak accident had happened only a few months ago, and you were only left with word of mouth from the paramedics who had tried to save him, and the consolation that you could muster as someone just as wordless as your boyfriend, especially in grief. You assured yourself that it was more because you and OJ were in no hurry to take your relationship to something more serious, even without his father here now.

OJ’s hand moved from the fence, sliding back to the top of it to go around your shoulder, still mute as he put his arm around the back of your neck. You slid even closer, gently knocking your head next to his, like it’d help you know what he was thinking.

“I’ll do whatever I can to keep you from selling those horses.” You sighed, “I don’t know how, but I want them to stay here with you. With Em, with the family.” You expected no answer, but he finally spoke just above that hum again.

“Hm-hm. You know I'm a firm believer in the real being real." He shook his head, making your own nudge slightly as you smiled to him, "It's not always recognized right away, but when time comes. I'm sure."

You hummed at that.

"I like that idea."

[kickingitwithkirk]

Snow Globes and Forgiveness

Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3194

Warnings: wincest, cursing, m/m kissing, frottage, my attempt at flangst

For: @thepromiscuousduck @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange 2023

A/N: set after 15.19 & in this AU 15.20 doesn’t happen

A/N II: Apologies to all other participants for taking so long. Between a last minute switch, couldn’t rewrite until after new year & had a rebound of a bad respiratory virus that’s keep me mostly offline last few weeks.

A/N III: once again, brevity doesn’t exist in my vocabulary

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*gif credit to creator

Sam Winchester has never been big on the holidays.

Let’s start with a specific Halloween party and his disastrous bobbing for apples incident involving a girl he liked. Then there was that one Thanksgiving he’d been invited to by another girl who turned out to have hands like an octopus and spent the whole dinner, as his brother so eloquently put it, playing footsie with brace-face, not three feet from her dad.

Not to mention, others celebrated, or not, Winchester style; his dad either missed it entirely or showed up with a bucket of extra crispy from the colonel and passed out on a couch. The best was that one Christmas before Dean went to hell a few months later.

But this year was going to be different.

They’d been adjusting to normality reasonably well. Okay, so Dean is the one adjusting better in some respects and said since it’s the brothers' first non-Chuck Christmas, they had to make it extra special. Sam knows this was Dean’s way of trying to make up for all the shitty holidays during their childhood. And knowing his brother, he’s envisioning emulating Mrs. Butters, the wood nymph they accidentally released in the bunker, Jam Packed holiday extravaganza she’d done those few weeks before leaving.

While Dean was getting the tree (Sam would’ve bet more likely grabbing the first one he saw before hitting the liquor store), he sent Sam to pick out ornaments. Sam was trying to make an effort and found himself standing in the middle of a smaller retail chain store's Christmas section, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices and feeling like a freak for not knowing what to get outside lights and colorful balls.

“First Christmas together?”

Sam’s head swiveled around, “Umm, I’m sorry?” The person who spoke said, “You’ve got that whole I’ve got no freaking idea what I’m doing look, so I took a guess it’s your first Christmas with your girlfriend…wife?”

“Uh, no, no girlfriend or wife.”

“Ahh, boyfriend.” Sam was about to correct their assumption when they continued, “That can be trickery,” and gave him the once over. “I’m guessing he’s not into frills and bows. You should head to the Christmas Market two blocks south of here. There are always booths selling unique or vintage items for the Holiday. Probably find something more appealing than this mass-produced crap.”

After one more glance, Sam thanked them and texted Dean where to meet up with him later, then headed out of the storefront and strolled down the street. He soon hears jolly holiday music and smells enticing scents wafting before entering the colorfully illuminated European style Market and is hit with the sense he’d been here before.

Sam shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Of course, he’d never been here before, but something about this place kept nagging at his memories of familiarity when the irresistible scent of hot, minty chocolate beckoned. After indulging in a creamy, decadent drink decorated with a soft peppermint stick, he walked around, taking in the wares for sale.

At one booth, he found strands of original bubble lights and instantly knew they’d appeal to Dean and his oft-denied inner child; another yielded hand-strung garlands and got popcorn and cranberry ones with instructions on storing them for future use. Sometime later, Sam is laden with so many packages and bags that even his long arms are having trouble juggling them when he sees an elderly woman seated by a table with a simple stand of lights.

The hunter in him was always looking for anything unusual which fit the bill. Smiling politely at the woman when approaching, Sam studied the few antique-looking items and decided they seemed innocuous and relaxed. He spotted an old snow globe, picked it up, and sardonically smiled at how it looked diminutive in his large hand and began examining it.

Sam took time to appreciate its craftsmanship. Its base was silver with hand-worked engravings and an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Giving it a shake, Sam watched the artificial snow gently drift over a scene of a log cabin snugly ensconced among evergreens and bare-limbed trees. He got that feeling again. Impulsively, he asked how much he was surprised not to have to haggle over the price.

Carefully taking the globe in her gnarled hands, the woman told Sam that it was crafted in the country of her birth but didn’t specify where. She carefully inserted it into an equally old wooden box, telling him it was explicitly constructed to house the globe to keep it safe during its travels. Sam hears rumbling and glances around, spotting an old pickup parking not far off, and turns back to find the woman has disappeared.

Frowning, he placed the box in a bag, gathered up the rest of his purchases, walked to the waiting vehicle, deposited the items in the crowded truck bed, and then climbed in noticed Dean peering through the cab's back window, “Couldn’t find any more stuff, Sam?” “Couldn’t find a bigger tree, Dean?” His brother says nothing while backing the truck up, “Good thing I got all that to decorate it with then.”

Dean grunted as he set his end into the tree stand and, catching his breath, huffed out, “This would’ve been the time to use some of those witchy tricks, Sam.”

“Or maybe a good time to start working out more and cut back on the burgers and pie?” Sam shot back. “Wadda you talking about?” Dean snapped defensively, “I’m in great shape!” Sam gives him bitchface and says, “Keep telling yourself that Dean.“

Squatting down to affix the supports to the tree, Sam continues. ”You got winded just carrying this down the stairs. We have to face it: neither of us is getting any younger. We had this conversation not long after dealing with Chuck. Yes, we’ll enjoy the everyday things we couldn’t before. But if we’re doing something or on a hunt and get seriously injured, Cas isn’t here to help. And you know Jack is hands-off, so we’ve ….”

“Whatever, Sam.” Dean interrupted, unsuccessfully tamping down his that hurt but not gonna acknowledge it look. “I’m going to take my out-of-shape self and get the rest of the stuff from the car. Unless you’re worried I might, I don’t know, fall and break a hip.”

“Dean, that’s not what I,” but his brother just left, and Sam sighed, knowing he’d put his foot in it again, trying not to express his true feelings. Since they got their freedom from the manipulations of heaven, hell, and all the other things that went bump in the night, the feelings he’d buried and thought were over had come back.

Before he said yes to Lucifer, Dean acknowledged Sam was an adult, and he needed to stop being overprotective. But there is a part, deep down, in both Winchesters that is psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent. That part in Sam is one hundred percent positive that if Dean found out, he’d be so disgusted by what a perverted freak he indeed was forcing Dean would cut him out of his life forever.

The bunker's door banged shut, and at the bottom of the stairs, Sam paused on the last tread, watching the scene playing out before him in the war room.

“Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles at an ornament, refusing to stay on a branch of the mostly decorated tree. He lets it go, and it begins coming off again. “That’s it, I’m getting my gun.”

Sam couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some floaters and air fresheners instead?” He can see Dean mulling over that memory, “They were great.” Peering over at his brother, he asks, “Where did you disappear to? Thought you were going to help.”

Sam held up a grocery bag, “A peace offering? I know you aren’t going to change your habits, but I'm hoping we can compromise, at least when we’re not hunting. It’s 90% lean beef, and the pie,” Dean's whole face lit up, “Is made with almond flour and natural sourced sugar.”

Trading the wayward ornament for the bag, Dean states, “You deal with this,” Sam shakes his head when he hears, “Meatman coming to town” and sets about finishing the tree.

After cleaning up, the brothers sit in the library, drinking beer and watching an old Christmas movie playing on a laptop, when Dean casually inquires, “So what’s with the box?” Sam frowned before realizing he meant and remembered leaving the item sitting by the displayed swords. “It’s ahh, well,” Sam stammers as he retrieves the box, sets it on the table, and lifts the wooden lid. Dean raised an eyebrow at the contents, “Something you need to tell me, Samantha?” he snarks, removing the snow globe.

“I’m not sure why, but I'm drawn to it.” Dean frowned at his brothers' words and took a closer look. “What’s the saying?” He asked, pointing to an inscription on the base. “Not sure. I think it's a form of an older Germanic dialect. I was going to translate it later.”

Since nothing is screaming cursed object, Dean shakes it, making the snow swirl before setting it on the table, picking up his beer, and resuming watching the movie. He could feel Sam suspiciously eyeballing him asks, “What, Sam?” But Sam simply sighed, knowing his brother wouldn’t let it go. And sure enough…

“Did Santa ask if you were a good boy this year?”

Sam glances around trying to figure out where he’s at since a moment ago he was in the laundry and now starting at his decades younger self reclining against a headboard reading he hears his, their, name and watches himself huff in displeasure and getting up proceeds to trip over his own feet.

Following himself down a wood-paneled hallway, they enter a shabbily furnished living room, and spots his brother watching his younger self standing by a wood-burning kitchen stove. “Dean?” Turning, green eyes boggle, seeing Sam standing next to his own younger visage.

“What the hell you’d do, Sam?” Dean’s gravelly voice snapped and got Sam’s back up. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” Dean looks at their younger doppelgängers arguing about something when young Sam stomps to a rickety kitchen table, plopping down on an equally rickety chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at its sacred top.

“Man, I forgot how bad your emoing could get,” Dean offhandedly commented, returning his attention to his brother, eyes hooded. “You were working in the library, so it's not hard to deduce you deciphered some curse cause now,” chucking his thumb toward the window, “We’re in the damn snow globe!”

Sam shot off bitchface #37, “It’s not a curse! I determined the words are an idiom. Слова не воробьи, как только они улетели, их уже не поймать.”

“Can you put that in English for those who don’t speak geek?”

“Words are not sparrows; once they have flown they cannot be recaptured.”

Dean got his running it over in my brain expression, “Yeah, I got nothing.” Sam concurred, “It didn’t make sense to me at first. But then I found a maker's mark hidden in the engravings. The records said they were a tradesman and spiritual alchemist.”

“What do idiot words have to do with Nicolas Flamel?” Sam's lips pursed, “Idiom Dean. And you know who Nicholas Flamel was?”

“Yeah, college boy, he created the philosopher's stone, turning metal into gold and some immortality elixir.” Sam waited. “He was in that Harry Potter movie, alright? What does that have to do with why we were here?”

“Okay, hear me out. Spiritual alchemy believers follow various paths to achieve the same goal, believing that, like metal, one’s soul can be transformed through stages of purification.” Sam began explaining the stages, and by the third, Dean heard enough.

“You're saying all the crap we’ve dealt with from heaven to hell has done some kinda colonic on our souls.” Sam began to speak, “Shut up, I’m on a role here. And if we take that idiom literally, one or both of us said something wrong and the idiom-alchy-snow globe Ghost of Christmas Past us to complete this whatever stage with an apology?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Great! Let’s figure out where here is, get to apologizing and the hell outta this glass ball.” Spying a discarded newspaper Dean tries picking up found he isn’t corporal. “Seriously?” Tipping his head sideways, he says, “Okay, December 22, 1999. We’re in Michigan..or Wisconsin?”

“Dean, what if it's something so bad there’s no way we can ask for forgiveness?”

That response made Dean's eyes narrow. “Sam, you need to tell me something?” His brother shook his head, but every warning signal in Dean was blaring like the bunker klaxon. He’d bet his entire collection of Busty Asian Beauties that Sam knew why that damn snow globe sent them here, but he was keeping it to himself for reasons.

Dean decided to hold his cards and play ignorant for a while longer. “Dude, what haven’t we done and forgiven each other for?”

Turning his attention to their younger selves made Dean feel a sense of nostalgia, missing how less complicated their lives seemed, even with the daily dose of Sam Winchester teen angst, which he always made up for.

Like now, offering to buy hot chocolate and giant pretzels triggered a memory, and the next moment, Dean was among a crowd wandering through the lighted tunnel entrance, following the loop by the salute to the armed forces towards the live reindeer exhibit.

“I remember this!” Dean exclaimed, “Dad left us in Somerset, Wisconsin, and were you all pissy ‘cause I kept giving you crap about this place’s name- Sam’s Christmas Village.”

“What else do you remember, Dean?”

They make a pit stop at the concessions, and while Sam is paying, Dean pulls out his flask, adding a double dollop to Sam’s. The kid needed to loosen up, then exchanged the cup for a pretzel with a smirk.

“This was the first time we got drunk together. Man, you were hilarious! Kept bugging me to go sledding,” Deans said, “And you fell off halfway down and laid there trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue.” Surrounded by softly falling snow tinted in hues of blues, greens, and reds, the brothers experience a memory trace of what happened that night.

Laughter fills the air as Dean staggers over, flopping on his back next to Sam, smiling at him when Sam’s expression changes and Sam leans over, his eyes' kaleidoscope colors disappearing into thin rings around dilated dark pupils as his fingertips caress the smooth, cinnamon-freckled skin and plush lips he was aching for when Dean pulled him tightly against him, noticing an unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh as Sam instinctively started rocking his hips, seeking friction for his growing hard-on.

Dean feels his cock straining inside his jeans, slides one arm around Sam’s waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angles his mouth up so he can drive his tongue into Sam’s mouth, feeling him suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock when wolf whistles from sledders passing by startled them caused Dean to bolt upright and dump Sam onto his butt.

Abruptly getting up, Dean grabbed the ropes of both sleds and dragged them downhill, leaving his brother perplexed. Scrambling to his feet, Sam rushes after, inquiring what happened, but Dean only responds that they need to head out before the roads ice over too much. The silent intensity of the drive back is broken only by music playing through the Impala’s speakers. Sam initially thinks Dean is concentrating on the road due to his intoxication. But Dean’s chewing his bottom lip signals he’s upset, and the knot in Sam’s stomach tells him to stay quiet.

Shutting the cabin door, Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it, saying he overstepped boundaries that shouldn’t have been and won’t let it happen again. In a panic, Sam blurts out how his strange feelings for years were crystal clear.

“I love you, Dean, and want us to be together…like together together.” Dean shakes his head, “It’s the whiskey making you talk nonsense.” Sam’s stubborn streak surfaces, infuriating Dean, who shoves him back against the door and shouts in his face.

“Stop acting like a freak and go sleep it off!”

Sam feels like an ice pick is entering the base of his skull, and his stomach twists, knowing he’s the reason the person he cares most about in the entire world; he cares about more than himself is reacting like this, watching Dean disappear down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut. He fucked up royally, and suddenly his life was a mess when it seemed all was about to align an hour ago, making Sam wants to scream, to throw up.

Moving on autopilot, Sam shuts his room door, grabs his duffel, and haphazardly throws his belongings into it. Then, opening the window, he slips out and trudges back to town, heading for the bus station. By the time he arrives, his feet are so numb he shuffles across the linoleum flooring to the counter, setting most of his hoarded money down asked for the furthest distinction it’ll take him.

A short time later, the bus pulls out onto the main highway heading west as Sam leans against his window, wondering how everything outside seems so normal when his world has imploded. Dean turns his attention from the younger visage before him to the mature man beside him.

“This is why you ran away to Flagstaff.”

“You were right about me being a freak all along.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, Sam, it was my fault. I tried so hard to keep what I felt hidden, but that night..,” Sam's burst of laughter made Dean bark, “You think that’s funny?”

Eyes that never settled their color, hardened by the decades of horrors they’d lived through, were now gazing at him with unworldliness a thirteen-year-old Dean, after confirming everything in their dad’s journal was true, helplessly watched flame out like dying embers.

“No, Dean. The snow globe brought us back for the dissolution stage, dissolving false beliefs. We’ve been at cross purposes all these years for the same reason, each of us thinking we are the problem and the only way out is to no longer deny our feelings.”

Lifting his hand, Sam hesitated to let his fingertips explore the older, but still, so much loved, freckled skin again when Dean shifted, reaching his still-strong hand to cradle the back of his brother’s skull, angling his mouth up and breathed out against his lips.

“Sammy, we’re good.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for agreeing that my friend may need to work on their confidence for the sake of keeping a job?

(🕴️👔📚 <--- just so I can find this)

Genders are irrelevant, I'm 19 and my friend "Sam" is 20. Idk if this may be relevant but for for a bit of context we finished school in the same year as each other after our A Levels (so at 17 and 18 respectively), and neither of us are/have plans to go to uni/college.

After school, I had managed to get a part time job that was fixed term up until the end of that Christmas period, and about a month or two afterwards I'd been lucky enough to land a full time job (though I've since left that and moved to my current job). During this time, one of Sam's family members had some health issues come up so they put off any job searching to be a carer for this family member and signed up to claim a carer's allowance so they could still be getting some income. After a little while, the family member's health began to improve and Sam said they were going to be looking for jobs again, though they were still a carer for the family member, and so I started offering help with things like sorting their CV/interview prep/etc, and Sam had then gotten a job similar to my first one, part time retail, though their job had been listed as a permanent position while mine had been fixed term.

However, after a couple of months (I think it was two or three months off the top of my head) Sam came to me and said that their workplace had let them go, citing that they lacked the confidence for the job. Okay, no massive biggie, Sam took it in their stride and still had the caring for their family member to fall back on while they looked for other work, so we'd each silently chalked it up to teething problems (hell, I know I had issues with my confidence when I started any of my jobs). They did get another job not too long after that, this time as a carer in a nursing home, great! Whenever we caught up on how things were going, Sam always said they enjoyed it but did occasionally mention that their line manager had commented that they seemed to need to build their confidence a bit in their role. Again, could easily have been teething problems, so I had offered a few tips that I'd picked up on from my experiences to help build their confidence.

As of writing this, Sam texted me yesterday saying that they'd been let go from this job/hadn't passed the probationary period because their confidence was still lacking in their role (may be worth noting for a bit of context here that when I then asked about it, Sam said to me that they hadn't had any 'actual' feedback about this being an issue, not sure if it's exactly relevant as that might be a separate issue though).

Given that this is the second job that Sam has lost due to not having enough confidence, I want to say something to them about working on their confidence in work, even if they go down the "fake it till you make it" route just to help them out with securing a job in future, and I don't want them to have to be stuck with references from their now-previous employers that boil down to "we had to fire them because they were unconfident" which could potentially cause quite a few issues for them when applying for new jobs.

I haven't said anything yet, as I don't want to overstep anything with Sam and come across as a pretentious ass because I just want to be able to help my friend out but I don't know if I'd be the asshole for agreeing/pointing out that they'll need to work on their confidence for the sake of future jobs, so any feedback would be much appreciated!

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

⥇ rags / 30 / MDNI 18+ / ao3 / ask box (anon on)

[ 01/03/2024 ]: Went ahead and posted a Gone Fishin' sign on the door because I've been non-stop wringing my hands over not writing the last few months. Just got burned out between working retail hell season and some home-life stress, and decided, eh, fuck it, might as well take the pressure off myself to start off the year. Love y'all! <33

Follows and somtimes replies from @vide0-nasties!

Tags: My Work / Fic Recommendations / Inspiration (Quotes & Art) / WIP Previews / Housekeeping / Answered Asks

⥇ masterlist under the cut

⥇ recently posted

hot in sarajevo ii

x f!operator!reader - NSFW! pwp

After a successful assassination, König is in a foul mood after being forced into the role of spotter. He takes his pound of flesh in the form of frustrated sex. After an intoxicating string of kills behind your anti-material rifle, like hell are you going down without baring your teeth and snapping. Part II: sweet to the sour, with a surprise ending.

⥇ all works

call of duty: modern warfare

⥇ captain price

for the sake of having you near [ part: one / two / three ]

x f!veteran!reader - divorce au

Twenty years you had known John, and for seventeen of them you were married. After a career-ruining injury in the field, you were forced out of the service, and the marriage did not survive your survival. But: when John goes on leave, he always finds his way home to you.

⥇ könig

hot in sarajevo [ part one / two ]

x f!operator!reader - NSFW! pwp

After a successful assassination, König is in a foul mood after being forced into the role of spotter. He takes his pound of flesh in the form of frustrated sex. After an intoxicating string of kills behind your anti-material rifle, like hell are you going down without baring your teeth and snapping.

to leave the blood stay in the veins [ part one, two ]

monster!könig x f!cursed!reader - NSFW! monsterfucker au

There is a beast in the woods, and it leaves so little meat on the bone that not even carrion birds find value in the corpses it leaves behind. Your boyfriend thinks it’s funny. König, under his ever-present hood, laughs, sharp in the tooth. “Anyone dumb enough to head into the trees is dumb enough to die,” he teases, but there is an arrogance and a contempt swimming deep in his bloodshot blue eyes.

⥇ nikto

your bones singing into mine [ part one / two / three / four / interlude ]

x gn!bioweapons engineer!reader - slice of life

You were once a brilliant thing, a creator of terrible and powerful miracles of modern science that could bring the world to its knees. A Russian crime syndicate that swept you up tucked you away in a small, dark place to keep you safe while they moved, leaving you to die a slow death in a forgotten hole. Nikto arrives at this barren corner looking for information and resources, and he finds exactly that in you. He decides that he will keep you, put you back to rights.

[munsonslove]

Hello love! Just wanted to say that you're one of my favourite writers on here. The way you write is so comforting and so easy to visualise as I'm reading! Sorry for anon, I'm a grown woman with a child who is down bad for a fictional character and my friends don't understand 🥴

I'd love to see your take on reader having an awful day and needing Eddie to get her into subspace- don't mind if mixed with daddy kink, too!

Please keep writing because I'm literally obsessed ❤

Feel Better

(18+ only)

a/n: no worries anon, i’m a grown woman who’s down bad for a fictional character as well lmao (though i don’t have a child, but still) anyways i hope you like it!!! this isn’t full rated R it’s just the lead up to it, but it’s still really cute i think~ also happy halloween everyone!

summary: A bad day leads to some TLC from your favorite person.

wordcount: 1.1k, short n sweet <3

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!Eddie, fluff, smut (kinda), established relationship, daddy kink, praise kink, no use of y/n

Today was absolutely awful. Eddie didn’t sleep over last night, so you woke up at the crack of dawn alone in a cold bed. Then, your coffee maker crapped out on you, so you had to leave without any caffeine to help fend off the weariness still looming over you. It was raining and you never replaced your umbrella that got a huge tear in the nylon last month- and though Eddie did constantly offer to drive you when you first landed this job, you felt bad forcing him to wake up so early when he often worked late nights- so you walked the ten minute walk to the store every morning. This, of course, resulted in you showing up to work soaking wet. To make matters worse, despite only barely being past Halloween, the suburban moms of Hawkins have decided the retail hell that is the holiday season has officially arrived.

When you finally dragged your aching feet past the threshold of your tiny home, your ears picked up the sound of pots and pans clanging and running water. Eddie’s van was parked in your driveway, and he knows that he’s welcome to let himself in any time he wants- that’s why you gave him a spare key in the first place. You pass through the archway to the kitchen to find your boyfriend doing the dishes while bopping his head along to the beat of imaginary music. He doesn’t notice your arrival over the sound of the sink, so you take a moment to just appreciate the view. There’s two plates of your favorite lunch on the table, beside a fresh brewed cup from your newly fixed coffee machine. Already you feel immensely better, but a home cooked meal isn’t what you need right now.

You clear your throat to get his attention, and it works like a charm. Eddie’s head whips around to reveal a wide grin on his face, but his expression drops when his eyes find yours. You can only imagine how you look right now, with your hair and clothes dried after being rained on. He can definitely see the remnants of your terrible day on you. Turning off the faucet, he walks over to you without a word and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“You wanna talk about it, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice a quiet whisper filled with care.

“No,” you answer immediately, “I just want you to help me forget.”

He understands what you’re asking from him without you needing to explain, so he takes your hand in his and leads you to the bedroom. After closing the door behind you, he dims the lights and takes you by your waist to sit you down on the side of the bed. You try to look up at him as he stands towering above you, but it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when he places his hands on either side of your cheeks and starts softly stroking your hairline. He does this motion for a little while, until you’re unsure how long he’s been just delicately touching you. The repetition of these gentle caresses combined with the sound of both of your quiet breathing syncing up is enough to have you creeping closer to that empty-brained daze that you’ve been craving all day.

Eddie helps you pull off your shoes, along with your work uniform and underwear, crumpling up the clothes into balls and chucking them into the hamper across the room. Then, he calmly instructs you to lay down on your stomach. You do as you’re told without protest, and he hums approvingly as he crawls over your naked body. With his weight grounding you to the plush mattress, all you can focus on is the feeling of him pressing into every inch of your body. There’s such little light present, and the room is silent except for rhythmic inhaling and exhaling, so your concentration is fighting a losing battle. Your mind is slowly melting into mush as Eddie’s lips barely graze your shoulder blades.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Fall into it, I’ve got you.”

You want to respond. Tell him that you’re trying, you’re almost there- but you’re so close that you’ve already become nonverbal. Talking got really difficult when you were in this headspace, so your lack of response told Eddie everything he needed to know. He continued pressing short kisses to your back as he rubbed up and down your arms lovingly.

“Just listen to my voice, darling,” he ordered, a little louder but still monotone so as to not distract you and pull you out of the moment. “You don’t have to worry about anything else today. Daddy’s got it all covered from now on, just turn that pretty little head off.”

Before you know it, you’re nose-diving deep into that all too familiar trance-like state you often find yourself in when your boyfriend takes control. It’s euphoric, like you’re floating above the bed despite being pinned down. The sound of Eddie’s hands sliding against the skin of your arms, torso, and legs suddenly becomes so amplified that it’s like it’s happening right next to your ear. There was nothing in your system, no smoke in your lungs or alcohol in your blood, but you felt far from sober. Your face must have portrayed the dizziness you felt, perhaps via glazed over eyes or a slack jaw, because the man on top of you stopped his massage to tilt your head to the side.

“There she is,” he rasped, “You feel better?”

A small set of giggles unconsciously escaped you, answering what you couldn’t find with words. Vibrations rattled your relaxed body as Eddie returned the laughter, and you almost didn’t even notice the heaviness being lifted off of you when he sat up and positioned himself between your spread legs.

“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” he asks between laughs, splaying his fingers on your thighs just below the fat of your butt. “I got you all giggly, don’t I?”

There’s more shuffling, but your mind is too far away to fully comprehend what’s going on around you. You think Eddie stands up, then the bed dips when he gets back on. He moves you like you’re a rag doll, positioning you onto your hands and knees for him. You feel his cock sliding along your slit and brushing against your clit as he tenderly strokes your back.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into the darkness of the room, though the tremors that reverberate in your bones would lead one to believe he bellowed it. “Daddy’s gonna make his good girl forget about everything.”

[lantur]

tw cancer, tw death, tw grief / life update

I was having a nice day on Saturday. I woke up, made a tea latte, did some yoga, went for a run, went to get groceries.

Around 3 PM I got a call from my mom and aunt, letting me know that the hospice nurse said that they expected my dad to have 24 hours or less to live. This was a huge change from previous estimates of a week-two weeks. Derek and I booked airline tickets same-day from Minneapolis to CA. Our flight wasn't until 9:30 PM.

We were at the airport, past security, waiting for our flight to board, when I got the call from my mom saying that my dad had passed.

I had prepared for this since he was diagnosed 10 months ago - I had prepared for this since he started hospice - I had prepared for this since the last time I saw him in April - but I still wasn't ready. I thought I was ready, I thought I would be ready, but I wasn't.

Derek held me when I broke down weeping in the middle of the airport. We flew 3.5 hours to CA, were on the road for another 1 hour, and got to my parents' house at past 1 AM. It was hell. It was a hell day.

The hell got worse the next day when we saw his body at the funeral home. I walked to him and automatically said "Daddy? Daddy?" like I always used to, and he didn't respond. He didn't say anything. It was hell. The worst thing I've ever been through.

My aunt and Derek had to go back to home (Pennsylvania and Minneapolis respectively) yesterday. My mom and I attended my dad's funeral today. Seeing the hearse, driving behind the hearse, was really hard. My dad taught me how to drive, and I used to sit in the backseat when he and my mom drove me around when I was a kid, and now I was driving behind the funeral hearse.

My mom and I were so nervous about the funeral, but it was beautiful. It was at a veterans cemetery, peaceful and quiet and beautifully maintained. The ceremony was beautiful. It gave us peace and closure.

My dad was 70 years old. He grew up in Chennai, India, in abject poverty, the youngest of seven kids, raised by a single mom. He grew up to become a pharmacist, and moved from a couple of decades of retail pharmacy work in India and Dubai and the United States, to moving to outpatient and inpatient clinic pharmacy management after he enlisted in the Air Force. He loved pharmacy so, so much. He was so passionate about it. His last job before he retired was an oncology pharmacist, at the same chemotherapy infusion clinic where he ended up receiving his chemotherapy after a diagnosis of small cell lung cancer.

My dad grew up in poverty, and his own dad was never around. He worked hard and provided for my mom and I.

I have had a lot of pain and grief ever since my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I could write for pages about it. All I can say is that I hope nobody has to see a loved one suffer and lose their life due to cancer, because it's hell to witness. I have the greatest empathy and love for others who have witnessed this painful process in their family.

All I can say is my only consolation is that my dad lived a long life. I know there are so many people who tragically die younger. My only other consolation is knowing that we are all united in grief, because this pain of losing a loved one comes to all of us someday.

This past few days, this past month, this past 10 months, has changed me irrevocably. I have new fears, new anxieties, new understanding (and fear) of death and mortality.

I also have more understanding and appreciation of life, how temporary it is, how important it is to live life to the fullest while we can, and how important it is to appreciate the people we love. My husband, my friends, and my aunt and cousins have been so supportive, carrying me through something so devastating. Even work, even my boss, who has been so understanding.

And to everyone on tumblr who has been so supportive during this journey. People who read my posts, who liked them to show solidarity with my feelings, who commented, who sent me messages of support and kindness. Thank you.