#and i just gotta keep doing that or else???

[elliesgaythoughts]

gimme a lift

ellie williams x sub reader

warnings: public sex, fingering r! receiving, squirting.

you watched the pretty sights of the ocean below you from your window seat. engulfed in the dramatic blue hues as you felt Ellie lay her head on your shoulder and tilt her face up to place kisses along your jaw, making you hum at the tickle of her eyelashes on your skin as she pushed her face deeper into the side of your neck “hm what’s up baby?”

instead of answering. her shy self simply continues pressing the plush of her lips against the sensitive spot on your neck. she sucked softly and ran her tongue across the bruised skin. her fingertips making goosebumps appear as they trailed your flesh, up your inner thigh, towards the pair of panties you wore and lightly bumped your clit as you squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a whimper and hiding your face in your headrest while she shamelessly licks away at you, her spit making a mess as she licks it up, groaning against your skin.

she goes to flip your skirt and dip her fingers into your waistband but you grip her wrist, your eyes pleading for her not to make you feel like this on a plane in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes as you whisper “we’re going to get caught” her eyes twinkle, almost like she enjoyed the idea of being caught with her fingers drenched as they pushed in and out of your cunt “you just gotta be quiet princess” she shrugs as she grips your thigh assuringly, making your clit beat as you bite your lip in thought and guide her hand between your legs, shooting a nod at her with a shy smile on your face.

she rests her head back on your shoulder and closes her eyes with you. to everyone else it looked like you both were sleeping. it looked almost impossible to tell that you were pulling your underwear aside as her finger slipped against the slick that glistened against your pussy as you spread your legs further. she whispers a “fuck” under her breath as yours hitches when she presses your clit softly, teasing it then massaging it in little circles as you squirmed in your seat, resisting the urge to hook your arm under you thigh and hike your leg up to make more room for the fingertip that pressed against your entrance, threatening to go deeper as it pushed only slightly inside you, making a groan slip from your throat before she pulled out and teased your huddle of nerves again.

you felt so embarrassed at the fact she had you literally wrapped around your finger, completely willing to do anything for her as you felt her finally slip her slick coated finger inside you, giving you a stare that was playful yet stern. daring you to get you both caught.

you tried to distract yourself. you tried to take in the sights of the clouds and the blues that surrounded them but you just couldn’t ignore the feel of her pressing against your g spot as your back arched in the seat and your palms pressed to the back of the chair in front of you, your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parting with almost silent breathless pants.

“ellie” she ignores your whisper of warning. she was preoccupied with the feel of you closing around her fingers, the feel of her pussy beating in her underwear and eventually the feeling of your fingernails sinking into her tattooed forearm, both of your hands squeezing onto her for dear life as your body curled in on itself. your feet left the ground as your legs crossed, wanting to keep her there forever.

“ellie!” you whisper shout in warning as your cunt clamps around her “i know” she says, zoned out at the sound of your breaths raising in pitch.

you knew how loud you got when you came and so did ellie, she knew how much you didn’t want to get caught but she also knew how much you wanted to cum when her other hand gripped your thigh as she did a quick check around her before she pulled your legs apart and dipped her head, giving a teasing kiss directly onto your clit with her fingers still inside you.

your hips stuttered as you gripped the back of her head, pulling her away from you.

your eyes teared up as you felt your orgasm creep closer even though you fought it. your eyes meeting ellies as you pleaded “i- i cant” a warning of no matter how much you fought it you couldn’t stop yourself.

she dips her head again, not minding the harsh pull you gave her auburn locks as she swiped her tongue across your clit and hummed into you before coming back up to your face, her hand covering your mouth as she almost kissed your ear, going so close, her words only for you as she spoke softly “then don’t.”

and just like that your eyes rolled back and your head followed suit, landing against the headdress as your eyes clamped shut and you whimpered against her palm. ellie faking a cough to cover the muffled pornographic sounds that hit her palm as she pulled her fingers from inside you. she gave your pussy a light pat as a ‘well done’ before rearranging your skirt.

ellie lowered her drool covered palm from your lips while you can’t help but make doe eyes at her, greatfull for her touch as your high continued to course through you.

she pecked at your cheek “you done so good for me princess” she cooed as you dozed off against her shoulder, missing the look that the old couple in the row beside you tossed in your direction. ellie simply rolled her eyes at them and sucked the taste of you off her fingers as she sighed to herself contently.

@cattjull @quinnister @lmaoo-spiderman @radioheadfan699 @aouiaa @infiniteinquiries @pascals-doll @moonalumi @yourelliewillms @williamellieslilho

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Exterior Hallway]

Ace: Well, it's gettin' about time. Guess I'll head to basketball practice… Hm? Who's that over there…?

Ace: Yo, Kalim-senpai! How's it going? Hey, hey, do you know what tomorrow is?

Kalim: Tomorrow? Hm, what's going on tomorrow…? Is there a dance competition? Oh, or is there some sort of feast planned?

Ace: Ooh, you're getting' close! The correct answer is… My birthday～!

Kalim: Woah! Tomorrow's your birthday!? That's awesome!!

Ace: Yeah, it's totally awesome! There's gonna be a party back at my dorm, and everyone'll get me a gift. It'll be a blast!

Ace: But, y'know, the crazier the party, the more lonely it feels the day after my birthday…

Ace: I always feel like it'd be great if these sorts of days come around two or three times more a year.

Ace: …Don'tcha think, Kalim-senpai?

Kalim: Oh, yeah, I feel you! It just doesn't feel enough to only have one birthday a year.

Kalim: Hey, I just had a great idea! I'll throw you another party the day after your birthday.

Kalim: That way you won't feel as lonely, right? It sounds super fun, so let me do this for you!

Ace: Ehhhh, you sure!? I'm tickled pink! Kalim-senpai, thanks so much!

Kalim: Yeah! I'll make it the best, most outrageous party you've ever seen, so I hope you look forward to it!

[Kalim leaves]

Ace: Nice, I got Kalim-senpai to celebrate my birthday! And he's making it an outrageously awesome party…

Ace: That might get a veto from Jamil-senpai, though…

Ace: But regardless, I at least secured a promise from Kalim-senpai for a celebration. I can't way for the day after tomorrow～!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Huuurgh, today's basketball practice was insanely hard… Floyd-senpai just wouldn't quit guarding me!

Ace: Usually he just gets bored and disappears off to who knows where… Ugh, I'm so tired～ I just wanna pass out…

Ace: My roommates sure got it easy. Doesn't sound like they got any upperclassmen that cause problems or nag all the time…

Ace: …Augh, I'm definitely gonna fall asleep if I just keep zoning out. I'm gonna go jump in the shower.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chatting]

[Roommate A greets Ace]

Ace: I'm baaack. Why did I take so long…? Y'see, Trey-senpai cornered me while I was brushing my teeth in the washroom.

Ace: He made me re-brush my teeth, and then handed me some floss and mouthwash. Then…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Ace: Right, so he handed me this survey to fill out too. Ugh, it's short answers! Better if it was multiple choice or something.

Ace: Hey, can't any of you guys fill this out for me? I'm real tired from practice today, 'cause it was reeeal hard.

[Deuce refuses]

Ace: …Do it myself without tryin' to slack off? Fine, fine, guess that's what I shoulda expected from you honor student types. You're takin' it waaay too seriously!

Ace: Maybe I'll just jot down that it sucks to be stuck in a room with guys I don't vibe with, or something.

[Deuce argues]

Ace: …Oh, shut up, I was just kidding. Whatever, I guess I'll just start filling in the form.

Ace: First off… The dorm rooms are way too small! That's the worst thing, so I definitely can't leave that out.

Ace: Sure, we can ask each other to swap dorm duties, or help each other when we can't remember a specific Queen of Hearts' rule…

Ace: So I guess it's not the end of the world that there's four of us in here. But it'd be better if the room was just a bit bigger.

Ace: It's practically impossible to study in here. Sometimes someone else's stuff'll end up in my personal space, too.

[Roommate B speaks up]

Ace: …Huh? Pot, meet kettle? No way, I'm always tiding up after myself…

[Roommate B interjects]

Ace: Eh, you found my pen mixed in with your stuff the other day? Uhhhh…. Oh, dang, look at that, it's lights out time!

Ace: I gotta hit the hay! Mmkay, night!

Ace: Aaand, that's the way to shut them out! This is why I love canopy beds.

Ace: As soon as I draw the curtains closed, I can have secure myself a small, little private space…

Ace: The thicker curtains help to keep light and sound down, so even if I'm playing with my phone all night long, it's not bothering anyone else.

Ace: When I think of it that way, I think the only thing I really have to complain about my room is just that it's small.

Ace: …But once I step outside my room, I gotta deal with strange rules, scary upperclassmen, and insanely hard homework.

Ace: Oh, right, I have homework… I need to do that… But first, I think I'll take a bit of a breather and play on my phone for a bit!

Ace: Ooh, my middle school friends uploaded something onto Magicam. They look like they're havin' fun back in the Queendom.

Ace: I feel crazy jelly seeing that, especially since I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere on Sage's Island… Hm?

Ace: Wait, what's this video at the bottom…? Oh! It's an ad for the magic shop I was looking into the other day!

Ace: Woah, how'd they manage that trick? Yooo, I bet I'd look real cool if I could master that!

Ace: I really want that magic trick. Maybe I should ask for it for my birthday.

Ace: Oh, hey, that next manga chapter is out. I gotta check that out.

Ace: Oh, and there's an event going on in that one mobile game. Guess I can log in for that. Oh, and…

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Urrrgh… Mm… It's too bright… Is it morning already? I guess I fell asleep playing the game.

Ace: What time is it…? Huh!? It's already this late!? Hey, why didn't anyone wake me up!?

Ace: Didn't my alarm wake me? You opened my curtain for me? …If you're gonna do that much, you coulda woken me up!

Ace: At least I don't have morning practice today… But I gotta get ready on the double!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Washroom]

Ace: My face is washed and my skin-care routine is done.

Ace: Ack, my hair's all over the place! Ughh, c'mon, I hate how my hair is…!

Ace: Maybe I can just fix it with some wax… Oh, but I want to make sure I have time to fix my makeup…

Ace: I got no choice, I should just use magic to set it! I screwed it up last time, but… I can totally do it today! Definitely! Hyah!

[poof!]

Ace: AAAAAAAAHH!? IT GOT EVEN WORSE, THIS SUCKS!!

Ace: What can I even do about this now!? Okay, first, let me try this spray to fix the bedhead!!

[spritz, spritz, spritz]

Ace: Ack, did I spray too much? Okay, I should just be able to rub it in here with my fingers… Guess I'll just have to see how it looks later.

Ace: I gotta set my makeup while I wait for my hair to loosen up. First, I gotta slap on some sunscreen…

Ace: Now, my eyebrows are the priority. I can kinda let everything else be half-done, but this's gotta be on point.

Ace: Back in middle school, I remember we were all laughing our heads off at this one person who did a terrible job drawing in his eyebrows, tryin' to look all fashion-y.

Ace: …I mean, not like I'd ever or will ever make that kind of screw up, though.

Ace: I saw a video yesterday that says that thicker eyebrows are in right now, so I'll just try to follow that tutorial and draw in where it's lacking…

Ace: Okay, nice. Not bad! I think I did pretty good for just trying to copy what I saw.

Ace: Now all I got left is my eye makeup… What should I do for the suit? I'd like to use something with a bit of lamé in it, but…

Ace: I bet the Housewarden'll get all huffy if it's too fancy. Guess I should just do what I normally do.

Ace: How's my hair looking…? Nice, it's tamer now! Probably was a good thing to spray too much on it.

Ace: Just gotta put some hair wax in to set it… Done. Whew, I feel a bit more presentable now.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chattering]

Ace: I gotta get my stuff together ASAP… Wait, huh? If the rest of you are all here, does that mean we still have a bunch of time?

Ace: Maan, then I coulda worked on my hair a bit more. I think I'll dip into the washroom again… Huh? My enigmatics homework?

Ace: …AAAAAAAAAH!! I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT!!

Ace: Oh man, I'm so screwed, Crewel's gonna tan my hide if I don't do anything… What should I do!?

Ace: …Hold the phone. I have enigmatics in the afternoon. That essentially means I'll have my lunch break before I have to turn it in.

Ace: I think the other classes might be ahead of us, so maybe they've already finished the homework already?

Ace: Even if the questions are slightly different, as long as I can figure out how they solved it, I should be able to bang it out… Oh yeah, it's all coming together.

[Roommate A speaks up]

Ace: Wheeew, I got all worked up over nothing～ Mmkay, then I'm heading out… Huh, what is it? You want me to help with your homework?

Ace: Hahahah, no waaaay! Here, I'll open the curtains up for you, so why don't you figure out the rest～?

[Main Street]

Kalim: Oh, there he is. Ace! Good morning!

Ace: Ah, Kalim-senpai! Good morning…? What's up? Isn't the party tomorrow?

Kalim: Yeah! But your birthday's today, right? That's why I thought I'd come wish you a happy birthday in person.

Kalim: So, yeah… Happy Birthday, Ace!

Ace: Haha, you really are the type of guy to show up the day of just to wish someone a happy birthday, huh.

Ace: Thanks a bunch! I can't wait for the epic party tomorrow!

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[itneverendshere]

saw that jj is readers neighbor. and i see rafe absolutely hating him, until he realizes that you take care of him like he’s your baby brother, especially when things get a little rough at his house

omg yesssss! it's kinda funny that he's beefing with a teenager. thank you for the request! 🩵🫂 alsojj never met milo before bc he only showed up after the kid was already sleeping, cause luke had a tendency to get rowdier at night 😣.

you're on your own kid - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

There’s no way in hell JJ Maybank is sitting on your couch while you’re cooking away. 

Rafe swears he’s lost his mind. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought when he was out on the boat earlier because what he’s seeing doesn’t make any sense.

There’s no way JJ is sitting there, his legs propped up on your coffee table like he owns the place. Like he belongs here. In your place. Your sister's place.

For a second, he thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. But nope, it’s real. The smell of whatever you’re cooking from the kitchen hits him in the face, and JJ’s laughter echoes through the living room.

This is your house, your space, and somehow JJ’s sitting there like he’s been here a thousand times before. He’s gotta say something.

Rafe clears his throat, trying to keep his voice normal but it comes out tight, strained. “What the hell’s Maybank doing here?”

You don’t even look up from the stove, just wave a hand in his direction, like it’s no big deal.

Like he’s no big deal. “Relax, baby. He’s just having dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rafe practically chokes on the word.

JJ catches the look on his face and smirks, leaning back further into the couch cushions.

“What, never seen a guy eat before, Cameron?”

Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dinner? At your place? Since when are you and Maybank this close?”

His eyes narrow on JJ, sprawled out on the couch like he’s got nowhere better to be. The guy’s even wearing his boots, dirt probably all over your cushions, and Rafe’s practically grinding his teeth at the sight.

JJ just smirks, because of course he does. “Jealous or somethin’, Cameron? Didn’t think you’d care.”

But then you walk over with a plate and set it down in front of JJ, and Rafe watches in shock as you ruffle his hair, so casually it’s like second nature to you.

Like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

JJ’s eating like it’s the first meal he’s had in days, and Rafe’s brain is still trying to catch up with what the hell is happening here.

You and JJ? Since when? Rafe’s stomach twists at the thought, because why would you even care about a guy like JJ? 

The guy’s got that scruffy look, bruises on his knuckles and faint ones on his arms. Rafe’s seen it before, the evidence of fights and bad nights. He knows what goes on at JJ’s house. He’s heard the stories. The arguments that spill out onto the streets late at night, the way JJ disappears for a while and comes back worse than before.

And then it hits him.

You’re not just letting him crash here.

You’re taking care of him. Looking out for him in ways that nobody else does, making sure he doesn’t completely spiral with a father like Luke Maybank.

JJ speaks up, grinning with his mouth full of food. “Her food’s so good, you gotta try it.”

“I’m her boyfriend, you think I haven’t tried her cooking?”

He’s being ridiculous, knows he’s not really jealous of a seventeen-year-old. It’s not that he’s threatened by JJ—hell no. It’s more that...he doesn’t like sharing you. Even if it’s just dinner.

He’s proud of you, though. Always has been. That big heart of yours, helping out some kid who clearly needs it.

Rafe crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. “Since when did my girl become a goddamn soup kitchen?” The words come out harsher than he means them to, but you just glance over your shoulder and roll your eyes.

You know him too well by now.

“Baby, it’s just dinner. JJ’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah, well, so have I,” Rafe mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t push it. He can’t really. 

He knows the guys has been through it, and yeah, his dad’s a piece of work. But that doesn’t make it easier to see him sitting here, all cozy in the life Rafe’s tried to build with you. Yeah, maybe you fucking spoiled him because know the mere thought of another guy being in your space makes his blood boil. 

JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Chill, Cameron. You’re acting like I’m movin’ in or something.”

He remembers being that kid—lost, angry, with no place to feel safe. JJ might be annoying as fuck, a walking nightmare to be around, but Rafe can’t hate him for that. Not really.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable,” Rafe mutters. He looks at you, softening. “You’ve got a heart too big for your own good, y'know that?”

“I thought you loved that about me?” You tease, turning back to the stove.

“’Course I do.” Rafe crosses the room, sitting on the arm of the couch, close enough to you but still keeping an eye on JJ. He watches as you stir something on the stove, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth despite everything. Yeah, he gets annoyed, but fuck if he doesn’t love you for exactly this. You just have a way of making people feel safe, even the ones that don’t deserve it—or maybe need it most.

JJ leans back, letting out a satisfied groan. "God, that was good. She ever cook like this for you, Cameron?"

Rafe shoots him a look, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, maybe when you’re not eating all my food."

JJ just laughs, completely unfazed. “You’re lucky, man.”

Rafe doesn't answer, just stares at him, half of him wanting to tell him to get out and the other half knowing how good it must feel for the kid to have a moment where he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Rafe’s been there—different situation, same lost feeling. He looks at you again, knowing it’s you that pulled him out of that place. And now here you are, doing the same thing for JJ.

With a sigh, he slides off the couch and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You know you’re too good for him, right?”

You laugh, leaning back into him. “For him? Or for you?”

Rafe presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling despite himself. “Both. Definitely both.”

His lips linger there for another second before JJ’s speaking again, “Alright, y’all don’t have to be disgusting while I’m sitting here trying to digest. Seriously, have some respect. I’m a guest.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he can’t help but laugh under his breath, his forehead dropping against your back. “You gotta be kidding me.” He sighs dramatically, loosening his grip on you and stepping back, but he’s still got that smirk. “You hear that, baby? We’re offending the guest. Can’t have that.”

JJ rolls his eyes so hard Rafe’s sure he’s gonna get stuck that way. “Yeah, you two keep it up, and I’m gonna lose this amazing meal you just made. Not trying to see all that lovey-dovey shit.”

Rafe leans against the counter, arms crossed, shaking his head. “You know, most people would be grateful for a free dinner.”

You toss a dish towel at JJ, which he dodges with a snicker. “You’re welcome to leave, you know.”

“Nah, nah,” JJ says quickly, stuffing the bread in his mouth. “I’m good right here.”  He stretches out again, clearly getting way too comfortable. “But if y’all could just tone down the romance while I’m around, that’d be great.”

Rafe’s still grinning, even though part of him wants to wipe that smirk right off JJ’s face. “You jealous, Maybank?”

JJ gives an exaggerated shrug. “Nah. I got my priorities straight.”

“Yeah? Like what? Getting on my last fucking nerve?” Rafe shoots back.

JJ lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning like a kid who knows exactly how make him lose his temper. “Hey, I’m just saying. Don’t go making me regret this free meal, alright?”

He glances over at you, and you’re shaking your head, smiling like this whole thing is the most entertaining show you’ve seen all week.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Rafe mutters, still eyeing JJ. “This is a one-time thing.”

JJ chuckles, unfazed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Just remember, I’m your girl’s favorite.” He flashes you a wink, and Rafe’s this close to tossing the bread basket at his head and tossing him out on the street.

JJ’s annoying, no doubt, but he understand, or at least he's trying to, that you’re doing it for a reason—helping the kid out, making sure he’s got a safe place for at least one night. And no matter how much he pisses him off, Rafe respects that. For your sake.

“You keep running your mouth and you’re both sleeping porch.”

Rafe turns to you, offended, “The fuck did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did,” you say, shaking your head. “Always making things competitive.”

Rafe scoffs, standing a little straighter.

“Competitive? Baby, I’m just protecting what’s mine.” He throws a glance at JJ, who’s still lounging on the couch like he owns the place.

“Man, protectin’ what?” JJ pipes up, laughing through his words. “I’m just here for the food and the show.” He gestures between the two of you. “Y’all could make a fortune if you charged admission. People love drama.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky they’re not charging you rent at this point.”

He’s about to tell him to shove off the couch and leave, but the front door swings open. Monica walks in arms full of grocery bags. Little Milo is trailing behind her, clutching a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other. The moment he sees Rafe, his face lights up.

“Uncle Rafey!” Milo yells, charging toward him with all the energy of a four-year-old hyped up on apple juice.

He bends down and scoops Milo up, setting him on his hip. “Hey kid. What’s up?”

Milo grins and holds up his juice box. “I got juice!”

Rafe chuckles, “Juice, huh? Sounds like a big day.”

Meanwhile, Monica’s busy setting the groceries on the counter, glancing at JJ sprawled out on the couch. She shoots Rafe a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Looks like we have an extra child in the house today.”

JJ, clearly not catching the jab, raises a hand. “Hey, Monica. I’m just keeping the couch warm.”

Milo tugs on Rafe’s shirt, completely oblivious to the grown-up talk. “Uncle Rafe, can I have a cookie?”

“Maybe after dinner, bud,” Rafe says, setting him down gently. “Go help your mom, okay?”

Milo pouts for a second but quickly gets distracted by the sight of JJ. He stares at him curiously, tilting his head. “Who’s that?”

JJ leans over the back of the couch, grinning. “I’m JJ. You can call me… your favorite new friend.”

Milo looks at him like he’s deciding if JJ is cool or just weird. After a second, he grins back. “Okay, JJ. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, kid. Hop on up.”

Rafe watches as Milo clambers onto the couch next to JJ, giggling when JJ pretends to steal his dinosaur. It’s almost funny—if he wasn’t so good at making himself at home.

Monica, catching the scene, sighs and shakes her head. “Great, now he’s corrupted Milo.”

Rafe crosses his arms, unable to suppress a smirk. “He’s already got enough bad influences in his life.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yeah, starting with you.”

Rafe raises his hands in surrender, laughing. “Fair enough.”

You’re leaning against the counter, watching the whole scene unfold, and suddenly, it just hits you.

Rafe with Milo, the way he softens when your nephew runs up to him, lifting him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Milo’s giggles fill the room and then there’s Monica, half-smiling at Rafe’s attempts to wrangle Milo, even with JJ sprawled out on the couch, egging the kid on.

Your heart feels so full, you almost can’t stand it. It’s one of those moments where everything just… clicks. You try to keep it together, but there’s this warm feeling in your chest, and you blink back the unexpected tears. How could you feel anything but love for all of them in this moment? 

Rafe catches you staring, his eyes softening when he sees the look on your face. He raises an eyebrow, but he’s already smiling at you, “What’s that look for?”

You shake your head, grinning despite the lump in your throat. “Nothing. Just... you guys. It’s... a lot.”

JJ, ever the clown, groans from the couch, “Oh God, please don’t get all mushy now."

But you can’t help it. You step closer to Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, laying your head against his chest. “I just love you. All of you.”

Rafe chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head. “Love you too.”

Monica glances over with a knowing look, shaking her head. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. You’re gonna make me cry, and I just got home.”

You stay wrapped in Rafe’s arms for a moment, just soaking in the warmth around you. Monica’s pulling plates from the cabinet, setting them on the table with her usual no-nonsense efficiency. JJ’s somehow got Milo giggling uncontrollably, making goofy faces and pretending to steal his dinosaur every few seconds. The kid’s losing it, practically bouncing off the couch in fits of laughter.

Rafe leans down, his lips close to your ear. “You’re okay?” he murmurs against your hair.

You smile, nodding against his chest. “Yeah. Better than good, actually.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read every thought behind it. “You sure? You looked like you were about to cry a second ago.”

You laugh a little, wiping under your eye, even though the tears never really fell. “It’s just... this. All of this. It’s perfect, you know? I don’t know. It feels like family.”

“You really think so?” Rafe asks quietly.

You nod, feeling that same warmth flood your chest again. “Yeah, I do. I love it. I love us.”

He smiles, a little crooked but real, the kind of smile you don’t see too often, but when you do, it hits you in the heart. “I love us too.”

For a second, the noise around you fades, and it’s just you and Rafe, holding onto each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

Then, predictably, JJ ruins it. “Hey, lovebirds! Save that for later. You’re killing Milo’s vibe.”

You both turn to see JJ standing with his hands on his hips, looking dramatic as ever. Milo’s grinning, clutching his dinosaur to his chest like it’s his new best friend. 

“Yeah, stop kissin'!” Milo chimes in, giggling.

You rolls your eyes but pull away from Rafe with a chuckle. “Alright, alright. No more kissing.”

Monica smirks as she finishes setting the last plate. “Don’t worry, Milo. They’ll be gross later when you’re in bed.”

Rafe gives your sister a mock glare. “You’re hilarious.”

She pats him on the back, grinning. “It’s what I’m here for.”

[sturnioloslife]

MY PRETTY BOY

summary. . .over the past few hours, you could not keep your eyes off matt. once you got home, you had to do something about it.

pairing. . . matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings. . . HEAVY SMUT, moaning, kissing, rough!fem, sub!matt, established relationship, overtsimulation, male receiving, female receiving, sooo all the good stuff.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

all day, matt had been teasing you. he had been calling you a “good girl”, “ma” and all these other names that had been driving you CRAZY. the two of you had spent the day at an aquarium. you had been going around town, walking into new stores, shopping, chatting and having such a great time. you couldn’t help but notice matt’s pink hoodie. he rarely ever wore it, but when he did, it drove you insane. the way it hugged his chest and loosely flowed down his arms.. you just couldn’t handle the desire for matt anymore.

as matt walked through the front door, he let out a heavy sigh. “fuck, i’m so exaughsted. today was so tiring but so fun” you smile at him as you nod. “yeah it was fun. but i was thinking we could cuddle up and watch movies now, if that’s okay.” you say that, knowing your intention of fucking the shit out of home later. matt nodded, his lighting up with a smile plastered on his face. “yeah, yeah! for sure.”

you two made your way up to matt’s room. when you walked in, you flopped down on his bed. “i’m gonna grab some snacks.” he smiles and quickly runs out of the room. oh how cute he looked when he was excited. after a few minutes, matt returned. he had brought some root beer, chips and sour strips. he placed them on the desk next to the bed before flopping down next to you. he grinned as he looked your way. “hi” he says. “why hello there” you reply, turning your head to meet his icy blue eyes. you grab the remote and press play on a movie as you both sink into the bed, the blankets and soft pillows engulfing you.

as the movie played, you looked over at matt. the strands of hair falling in his face. the way his eyes lit up at the funny scenes and the way his lips parted when something shocking happens. he looks so fucking adorable, you thought. matt’s eyes met yours when he caught you staring, his face flushed softly and he looked back at the tv. you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction. “what’s got you so flustered, hm?” you say smugly. “nothing.” he replies, noticeably embarrassed. “hm, okay then.” you wink at him then turn to the movie.

as the movie ended you faced your body towards matt’s. “ya know, it pissed me off how you were teasing me all fucking day with those petty little nicknames.” matt’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “i’m sorry, ma. i didn’t mean to make you upset..” he replied. “i think i need to do something about it.” matt’s face flushed gently as he looked at you. “and.. what would that be?” you smirked and placed a hand on matt’s clothed thigh. “that’s for you to find out.”

TIME SKIP!

the only sound coming from the room was heavy breathing. you stared into matt’s eyes as you climbed on top of him. he looked up at you, his eyes full of want and need. “fuck.. i need you. p-please..” matt said, desperately. practically whining. you trace your finger down his jawline before slowy tipping his chin up. “eh? didn’t quite hear you, matty.” matt’s eyes roamed down your body before shooting back up to your eyes. the bulge in his pants grew at a relentless pace. “mommy, i need you.. really bad.” you smile. “and what would need from me?” matt frowned, pouting slightly. “i.. i don’t wanna say outloud.. it’s weird.” you giggle and lean in closer, your warm breath against his lips, sending a shiver down his spine. “you’ve gotta tell me baby, or else i can’t help.. that.” you say, referring to the bulge in his pants. “please. fuck me.. fuck me till i can’t breathe” he looked up at you with desperation, his eyes glossy and his lips puffy.

you smashed your lips against his as you climbed into his lap. his hands trail over your body and you immediately stop. “no touching unless mommy says so, okay?” matt nodded. you grabbed his wrists and pinned the above his head, he let out a little gasp. you kiss down his neck and along his collar bone. you slowly take off his shirt and smirk at the sight of his toned stomach, his shirt somewhere in the floor now. you run your fingers up and down his torso. he shivered at the touch. you begin to slowly pull down his light blue jeans, the car keys still attached. his bulge looked so big under his boxers. you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of precum leaking through the grey calvin cline underwear. as you placed your hands on his v-line and started to pull down his boxers, he whined. whimpers left his pretty lips as he watched you, he was so desperate for you and your touch. it was mesmerizing. his hard dick slapped against his stomach as you pulled it out your thighs clenched and the sight went straight to your core. “please.. mama.. c’mon. i need ya so bad..” matt whispers. you smile down at him.

you gently wrap a hand around his base. your lips sink down onto him. he was so long and big. it was so hard to fit him in your mouth. you slowly started bobbing your head up and down on him, and for the part you couldn’t reach, you jerked off. matt whimpered and his glistening eyes watched you intently. “hey.. uh can you.. uh..” he said hesitantly. “take off your top.. i wanna see your pretty tits.” you smirked at him. “since you asked nicely..” you lifted your shirt off and matt’s eyes widened. “so pretty.” he reached out to grab one and you grabbed his wrist. “no, no, no. remember what i said? no touching unless you get permission.” you smirk and he nods, apologizing.

you place your head back on his dick and start bobbing your head at a relentless pace. matt whimpered and groaned. “fuck.. your mouth f-feels so good.. on m-me.. on my -shit- dick..” you smirked at him and only continued bobbing faster, your eyes glistened with tears as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. he took his hand, and tangled his fist with your hair, pushing you down deeper on him as he bucked his hips against you. you pulled your head off and looked at him, holding your hand out under his chin. “spit.” you demand. he immediately obeyed and spit his saliva in your hand. you used it to coat his dick as a lubricant and you started stroking him really fast. you rubbed your thumb over the tip every once in a while.

matt moaned and whined, feeling his climax come close as the knot in his stomach tightened. he let out several strangled moans. fuck, he looked so good. “AH.. fuck mommy.. shit!! shit i’m cumming!“ continue jerking him off until he lets out one final pornographic moan as his cum shot up in the air, landing on his stomach and your hand.

you slowly shimmied down your jean skirt, revealing your light pink panties. the one with a bow tied on the front. matt’s favorite. your pussy is throbbing and soaked wet as you look at him. his dick was so hard and his eyes were filled with tears of pleasure. you place his tip at your entrance rubbing it back and forth before slipping it into you. “fuck matt, you’re s-so huge” you pull your body up and slam back down, fast. repeating the process until you build a pace going back up and down. throwing you head back, you moan. god you could ride him all day. your legs felt like they were getting weaker and weaker. you place your hands on his chest gaining balance. matt noticed how tired your body was getting, he grabbed my thighs and started to thrust up. he was so good at this. hitting every perfect spot, at such amazing angles. you felt him start to twitch inside you. he must’ve been so close. his eyes stared with overstimulation.

"please… baby… i can’t… it’s… too much… can’t…" he whimpered, his hands clutching at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort to hold on. his body trembled uncontrollably, the overstimulation sending waves of intense sensation through him. his cock, still hard and sensitive, throbbed inside her, a mix of pleasure and pain that left him dizzy and disoriented. his cum shoots up im your pussy as you feel your self clench, cumming too. you both sigh and flop down together.

you cuddle up to him and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “my pretty boy.”

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!

it’s the first fic i’ve ever written so.. it might be bad!!

BUT HERE WE GO ANYWAY! ENJOY ANGELS!! 💗💗

(not proofread!)

@shorthairchris @sturn10log1rl @sturnstars4 @mattscoquette @bernardsboobs @bernardsbendystraws @submattenthusiast @rlchrissturniolo0 @alyrasturnz @chrissangel @n8doe @deareststurns @thenickgirl @thisisntmattsturniolo @biggyballzben @hearts4thetr1pl3ts @lacyssturns @qrzrrae @evie-sturns @vampmattsbae

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

how is wade gonna find out about logan and writer!reader???

Logan lit his cigar, grateful that your dog was better trained than Mary. Trigger might not like him very much but, there was still slack on the worn leather leash.

And he seemed content to let Logan do the morning walk, as long as the other man in your life didn't get any smart ass ideas about the pecking order. Fair enough, Logan reasoned. The dog was here first. And he'd been looking after you longer. "Hurry up, would, ya?" Logan grumbled. Trigger sneezed and proceeded to keep sniffing, looking for the perfect spot to take another leak and Logan rolled his eyes.

"The fuck are you doing?" Wade called, jogging across the street, drink carrier in his hand.

"The fuck does it look like?" Logan asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "didn't you have a date-"

"She had an early shift. Figured I'd bring not-so-virgin- Mary a coffee and try and get her to snitch out her baby daddy," Wade said. "Unless you wanna do it."

"If I tell you who it is you'll never believe it," Logan said.

"Try me," Wade challenged. "It's that fucking pervy mystery writer isn't it? God he's such a hack-"

"It's me," Logan snorted.

"Bullshit," Wade laughed. "You and I both know-"

"I fucked her raw on every flat surface in that apartment," Logan said taking a drag. "We broke her goddamn kitchen table. Do. The. Math." He took the drink carrier from Wade's hand and left him on the side walk, turning and walking upstairs with the dog in his hand, mentally bracing for the impact. Grunting softly. "Hold on a fucking minute. If we kill her dog she's gonna be upset."

Upstairs he set the coffee on the table and let the dog off-leash, "Be right back, Princess," he growled.

"Logan what-"

"Wade knows," He said, grunting as he ripped 'baby knife' out of his shoulder. "Gotta go let him try and kill me- get it out of his system."

"Logan!"

He leaned down and kissed you, smirking. "He's an idiot. But he's still a man. And I knocked up his baby sister... I'd probably be helpin' him kick someone else's shit in if they did you like I did."

"Men."

"We'll do it outside," he promised, kissing you again.

"Just don't fucking stab him in the head," you groan, reaching for your phone to call Vanessa and tell her the boys were about to catfight in the street.

"As long as he leaves my balls alone," Logan huffed. "Might take it a little personal if he goes there."

[thegamingcatmom]

BIRB MAMA LET´S GO 🐦‍⬛

(I can´t get over how adorable/goofy she looks here. How am I supposed to fear any of that?)

If Mother Miranda were to take an interest in you outside the whole vessel thing, it would include:

(Yall know the drill by now: Don´t like my dark and twisted stuff, don´t read my dark and twisted stuff. 🖤)

having to listen to her ranting and gossiping about her "children"

sometimes, it´s straight up just death threats

she´s scary when she gets like that

especially because she tends to breathe down your neck to calm herself (your scent is quite helpful)

having to listen to her feverish prayers when it comes to Eva

Eva is a big topic in general

helping her in her lab

which basically means cleaning up her mess (and she is rather messy, it has to be said)

we´re talking mountains of papers as well as mountains of bodies

ofc she´s gonna make sure to snuff out every last bit of life before she lets you near her failed experiments

she won´t take any risks when it comes to you

as for the papers-

...it´s a mess

and it´s very scary (and very unfair) when she gets all hissy and murderous over you trying to do your "job" and clean up her mess just because, out of the millions of papers, there´s one that she still needs

"How dare you throw that away?!"

"Well, how tf am I supposed to know?!"

...you think to yourself because there´s no way you´re gonna say that to her face (you quite like breathing, tyvm)

Eva

whenever she has one of her downright terrifying smash-things-against-the-wall "tantrums" (as you like to call them not to her face) she gets all purry and touchy-feely after

probs her way of apologizing (cause there ain´t no way she´s gonna use them words)

you hate that it´s working

despite being a mass murderer/mold monster smt who doesn´t require eating or using any stuff that humans usually would (like toilets), she does appreciate you cooking and cleaning for her

things she tasked you with ofc

she quite...enjoys the sight

(smt about that domestic view just...does things to her)

(you force-wearing an apron drives her wild)

Eva

preening

she does have feathers, after all

and those need lots of TLC 💋

makes you clean her mask too

or her rings

anything, really

in return, you may wear it

(honestly? totally worth it)

we won´t talk about the fact she´s doing it more for herself (just like pretty much everything else) because seeing you wearing what is hers just...yknow?

but also to demonstrate just how good it feels to be bad

"Hm... What do you think, little bird? Do you like it? I certainly do..."

Eva

forces you to attend meetings with her so she can show you off

and also because it almost always gives her a reason to rip into her "children" because that bunch just doesn´t know how to behave around you

especially the tall one who keeps throwing you looks that make it seem like she wants nothing more than for you to drop dead

you kinda share that sentiment

anywhere would be better than here

...she´s scary

something Miranda takes note of as well

one look is all that is needed to put the tall one in her place

in moments like this, you truly appreciate your roommate´s/abductor´s murderous side

when you´ve been especially good for a (long) while (no escape attempts, no talking back, no disobeying her whatsoever) she indulges your childish urges to see her transform into different animals

she will deny any and all accusations of smiling at that, down to her very last breath

(she could be persuaded though...)

Eva

one day, you´ll probs have to go from cleaning that mess to making it

which means actively helping MM with her experiments

cutting someone open etc.

there´s no way out of it, let´s be honest

it´s her livelihood, ofc she wants to share that with you

(isn´t she just precious?)

spying on the villagers for her

(she will find out when you´ve been lying, so don´t even think about it)

Eva

(This actually got way less dark and twisted than I anticipated. Gotta work on that, LMAO.)

Basically, my HC for Miranda includes her getting an absolute kick out of anything family/domestic life. She goes absolutely nuts when it comes to her daughter, so I imagine this would count for a significant other as well. She gets obsessed to the point of no return, and she´ll fight tooth and nail to keep them with her always.

I could go on, and on, and on, and on, and-

But, alas, it is rather late and, unlike some mold monster smt, I do need my sleep. ;3

I might do more posts like that cause I have thoughts. 😩🤌

CYA THERE! 🫶

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugou Katsuki: Model Student

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: 2k+, fluff

• When you’re sent to assist designer Bakugou Mitsuki, you get more than you bargain with both food and explosives.

Warnings: Mature language, slight spoilers, Class 3A

>>>>——————————>

When Bakugou Mitsuki 'politely demanded' that you accept a long term job on behalf of her fashion company you couldn't exactly refuse -not that she'd let you- but like your other modelling contracts, it wouldn't disrupt your hero studies aside from spending your free time at her home. The only unexpected factor, was her infamous son.

"WHO THE HELL IS THIS?"

You practically jumped out of your skin, the measure wrapped around your waist was left unattended as Mitsuki slapped the demanding newcomer upside the head.

"Manners Katsuki! This is (L/n) (Y/n), they're the model for my latest assignment."

"Nice to meet you." You gave an awkward wave, attempting to keep the tape in place as you did so but he did not seem impressed, only scoffing and walking away (regardless of the infuriated scowl his mother painfully engraved into his retreating figure).

"I apologise on his behalf, being apart of U.A's latest Big Three went to his head a bit but he's grown a lot since his first year with everything that happened. Still a moody 18 year old though." The woman forcibly laughed whilst resuming her work. Presumably he was home for the break like you, but worked at an agency to fill the time. If nothing else, this job assignment would be flammable.

—

Despite seeing him on a few visits, tonight’s encounter was the second time you’d actually spoken. Finally you got to rest, you'd tried to help as much as you could once Mitsuki got what she needed from you and she'd urged you to take a break in the lounge to prevent you from helpfully intervening and exhausting yourself.

Luckily, Bakugou was unintentionally keeping you company with reluctant conversation whilst he was cooking his dinner, you meanwhile took residence at the table scrolling through your phone.

"Have you eaten?" His lack of curses made you look up with a skeptical expression but you answered with a shrug, planning to eat once you got home.

"Not yet."

"Just because you're a shitty model, you gotta fucking eat as you don't need to—" Bakugou bit back with the stereotype, similar to that of either scolding or concern - you were uncertain.

"I do eat, I promise."

"Prove it then dumbass."

"Wha-how?" He smirked as he handed you a bowl of curry mid question, the one he'd been carefully concocting as you made idle chatter with him for the past 30 minutes. Almost like he'd planned it. Surely not.

"You didn't have to give me any, but thank you Bakugou. I’ll help clean up.”

"Tch, I made too much and I'm not wasting good food." Katsuki's tone held somewhat defensive aggression but he joined you at the table regardless, listing off ingredients and exchanging food preferences with you.

———

Over the various visits to the lovely Bakugou household, especially if your work with Mitsuki was scheduled when Katsuki was home, you’d usually have a meal prepared for you.

Admittedly you’d grown accustomed to the environment and to him, discussing hero work and exams with Katsuki over food and then helping wash up afterwards.

You’d grown more confident around him having had time to understand his personality, although the second you’d blew soapy bubbles at him you immediately regretted your decision.

You were met with a glowering crimson, floaty suds lingering on his nose, the scar on his cheek, and the front tips of his hair. Then there was the snarl and cocky smirk.

“You wanna go (L/n)? DIE!” It was accompanied by a spark of explosion angled toward the water - in such a trajectory that bubbles coated you like a snowball to the face causing you to huff in frustration to blow a couple off.

Bakugou howled manically at his retaliation, covering his mouth and pointing at you whilst you wiped the suds from your eyes.

“Ugh, take this murder god!” You flicked the remnants left on your hand at him which did nothing in all honesty. Instead a towel was thrown over your face courtesy of the blonde, which you irritably utilised. A string of curses was muttered beneath the material before you’d pulled it off, having believed you got rid of all the substance.

“Dumbass, can’t even beat bubbles.” Bakugou snorted, his gaze not having left you the entire time. “C’mere.”

You hadn’t the chance to refute, stunned by the fingers sliding across your jaw when he’d stepped forward and tilted your head with a hint of roughness that was inexplicably him. His other hand took the towel from your own and began carefully wiping your eyebrow and lower lip with a degree of scrutiny. Then he checked you for further discrepancies with more attention that you felt was required, and in order to hide your imminent flustering you delicately ran your finger across his scar to remove the last bubble there.

“You had something…”

An act that left him meeting your eyes with his own disarming ones, it felt intimate in a way like sparks were flickering alight despite no longer being connected by touch.

Just then Mitsuki burst into the main area, tape measure wrapped around her wrist and a determined gleam in her eye.

“Have you two finished dinner yet?” That’s when she took in the sight before her, you two in close proximity when directing your attention toward her but making no intention to distance yourselves. “…Because take your time, I don’t need (L/n) yet.”

Then she disappeared again, leaving you both alone in the disturbed silence. You took a step back from him wearing a polite smile and gestured toward his mother’s workspace.

“I should probably get back.”

“Hm, thanks for the help shitty model.”

Upon entering, you didn’t expect to be scolded for returning earlier than Mitsuki expected.

“What are you doing?! Get back out there, I didn’t mean to ruin— crap, I mean I’ve never seen Katsuki act— ugh it’s hopeless.”

“I’m here to work, and as amazing as your sons’ cooking is, I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.” You bowed as accompaniment, but the woman only sighed in defeat.

“Right, of course you’re only focused on the work. Just like Katsuki, how perfectly fitting…”

“Huh?”

“I said let’s finish this fitting!” She clapped her hands with a renewed determination, fabric at the ready.

———

A photoshoot showcasing the reinvented designs was your reason for a quick visit today, arriving at the Bakugou household to meet with the woman herself so you could travel there together.

Naturally, you weren’t expecting her analytic gaze to scan over your outfit with more criticality than usual, which is when you’d heard her contemplate aloud.

"I need to make some adjustments..."

"What?! The photoshoot is in 2 hours and this is all I have!" You gestured to the outfit she'd deemed perfect only yesterday, believing you'd only be heading straight to the shoot and home, you didn't see the need for a spare set of clothes.

Mitsuki shook her head, throwing a discarded hoodie in your direction before shooing you into the bathroom. Upon returning, tugging the hoodie down to cover as much as possible despite the size differences, you handed over your clothes and awaited her return at the kitchen counter with a tea warming your hands.

"Oi old hag, have you seen - what the fuck do you think you're doing in my hoodie (Y/n)?!" Immediately, the sheer ferocity in the familiar tone had you internally screaming and spinning 180 to face him.

"Katsuki! It's not - Mitsuki took my outfit for adjustments and gave me this, I didn't know it was yours!" You corrected yourself knowing he didn't tolerate excuses and skipped straight to the point, though it didn't nullify the death glare he sported.

"Whatever, you don't look like shit in it so just tell me how long she's gonna take because I need it." You missed the flush on his features after he properly looked at you, scanning over your legs which were overly exposed thanks to his item before turning away with a frustrated sigh.

"Yo Bakubro, what's taking so long - ohhh wow." Immediately the interruption had snapped Katsukis attention so fast you expected him to have whiplash.

The guy in question stood rather awestruck, hand running through his spiked crimson hair with an equally bright blush to match as his gaze landed on you.

"Not a fucking word shitty hair!" Bakugou practically threatened, skidding between the two of you with his hand moving to your side to keep you behind him.

"Dude, the others are waiting outside so we're good. I'm Kirishima Eijiro, a friend of Bakugou." Apparently a regular visitor to the house, he offered his hand whilst you sidestepped past Katsuki to meet him.

"Pleasure, I'm (L/n) (Y/n) and I'm here for an assignment with Mitsuki."

"Ah you're the not-so-annoying one he keeps talking about."

"You talk ab—" You never got to ask when Mitsuki hailed your attention.

"Done!"

The next moments happened in a blur, clothes were thrusted into your chest then an echo of voices called for 'Kacchan' who seemed panicked by their entry and shoved you into the bathroom telling you to 'hurry the fuck up'. Quickly you changed, tossing him the hoodie the second you'd cracked open the door, then came the slam from where he'd left with Kirishima after ushering the others out. All you could do was slump against the bathroom door with a sigh of exhausted relief.

———

The final session working with Bakugou Mitsuki, you’d expected it but that didn’t mean you were glad about it. You enjoyed the experience more than most jobs and you could probably chalk part of that down to Katsuki, not that you’d breathe a word of it.

Mitsuki seemed slightly despondent however, always flicking to the front door with a sense of hopefulness but soon morphing to disappointment when it didn’t open.

“What’s wrong Mitsuki-san?“

"Sorry (Y/n), Katsuki was pretty adamant about seeing you before you left so your last task wasn't really necessary but that brat must be too busy." She’d explained with a haphazard shrug, you weren’t even mad that she’d kept longer for no apparent reason due to your surprise that her son had personally wanted to what? Say goodbye? Or rather good riddance.

"Oh - no that's fine, thanks Mitsuki it was really great working with you the past month, and I hope we can do it again sometime. Please send my regards to him."

The sheer amount of wind caught you off guard as you walked through the near deserted neighbourhood toward the station after your final farewells, a faint sound of blasting echoing with a familiar figure abruptly skidding into your path. He still donned his hero gear so you assumed he shot over the moment he was released from his internship, the man now standing proud with his arms folded expectantly.

"What that's it? You're done?"

"Yeah, I have to get back to my internship too. Why?"

You couldn't fathom why Katsuki seemed so disturbed by this, his expression wasn't as aggressive and there was a distinct flash of disappointment in his eyes that he was quick to morph to ferocity.

"I don't have to cook extra anymore."

"I thought that was accidental?" You quipped back, knowing you were already on thin ice.

"Just didn't want you feeling guilty dumbass."

"My hero..."

"Shut up shitty model! You're your own hero, and I'll beat your ass in the ranking once we graduate." He’d growled, leaning closer to you and desperately trying to keep his voice down.

"Such a sweet talker Katsuki, too bad it'll never happen~"

"LIKE HELL YOU'LL—argh?!" The playful punch to his chest quietened him, your confidence and gratitude shining through as you held your fist in place whilst speaking.

"I'm glad I got to know you, I can't wait to work with you in the future."

"You're at the top of my list too - so long as you don't get in my fucking way." A gloved hand took your fist and intertwined his hand with yours like in an arm wrestle, giving it a challenging squeeze.

"Please, you'll be in my way."

The two of nodded in agreement, touch slipping from each other with the last brush of your fingertips feeling like a spark.

Then you were gone, and the fire burned brighter than ever.

———

This was the U.A. dormitories, the sign read 'Class 3A' so you knew you were in the right place but that didn't calm your jittering nerves at all. Yes you'd kept in contact and it was guaranteed that he was going to scold you for showing up unannounced but it remained unknown whether it'd be a serious one or a usual temper flare.

Amping up your false confidence, you walked in albeit hesitantly and your unfamiliar presence was immediately noticed.

"Good evening, oh and welcome - um can I help you find someone?"

"That'd be great, I—" The kindness radiating off of the green haired hero was relieving, but a sudden burst of sparks slid before you rather eagerly which stifled your reply.

"I can do it, anything you need I'm your guy! Kaminari Denki by the way beautiful."

"Kaminari! Don't leave me behind like that - ohmygod you were right, it's the hot model from the magazines. They're so attractive and a hero, what I wouldn't do—"

"Mineta! Stop being - AAHHHH it's (L/n) (Y/n)!" The pinkette squealed wholeheartedly once chastising her classmate.

A clutter originated from the kitchen the moment your name was mentioned, the others hardly concerned with the noise but rather far more interested in you.

"Sorry to show up uninvited like this, but thank you all for welcoming me." Gratefully you bowed to the group, many fussing prior to a harsh interruption causing them to part.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Heeyyy Katsuki..." Your tone seemed more awkward, he noticed the way you went to step toward him but second guessed your situation and took a step backwards instead.

“They know each other?”

“No way, they couldn’t be acquainted.”

Even with the muttering of his classmates, you gave a charming smirk and Bakugou heaved a defeated sigh but made an unexpected proposition anyway.

"I'm starting dinner for these shitty extras, so you should stay (Y/n)."

"Don't I need permission?"

"You think we're gonna argue with Bakugou? He never wants people over - let alone asks them to stay! None of us are missing this." An ecstatic blonde eagerly answered with thumbs up.

"Shut it Pikachu!" Katsuki stalked off in the direction of the kitchen gesturing for you to follow once Mina had taken your jacket. You thanked the pretty pinkette, following his lead when you heard the class collectively panic for you.

"This was the scent on Bakugous' hoodie remember? The one we couldn't pinpoint." Mina whispered to Kaminari, the two concocting rather scandalous explanations but ultimately decided their explosive friend wouldn't have the charm to date a model.

"Noooo, not in there whilst he's cooking. He'll kill you." Sero gingerly tapped your shoulder to halt your journey and you only smiled at him oh so innocently - clearly you did not know the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou.

"I'll be fine, I'll help prepare dinner as a thanks for having me here." The response only earned silent prayers, Mineta literally on his knees praying whilst Izuku released a barely audible squeak.

Inconspicuously, the class subtlety watched as you strolled in, purely intrigued by your unbreakable will to die - yet their discoveries were earth shattering.

"Hey, can I help?" A touch to his shoulder.

"Tch, my cooking not good enough for you anymore shitty model?" An elbow to your side.

"Your food is the best I've ever tasted which is why I want to learn from the best dumbass." The playful teasing which seemed commonplace for the two of you whilst you chopped vegetables.

"I missed you, fucking disaster."

"Well I am rather delightful, it's no wonder~"

"I take it back, you're still annoying as hell." This time his usual uncaring demeanour returned, cold words in tow and it only softened your resolve.

Leaving the vegetables on the chopping board, you carefully leaned into his side with a nudge as a form of embrace rather than hug him.

"I sort of missed you too Katsuki, but sorry for intruding." It was quiet, but genuine, and he couldn't help but reciprocate with his cocky attitude melting away replaced with a content smirk.

"S'fine, glad you did." Katsuki pulled away slightly to face you properly and allowed himself to enjoy the moment, finding himself looking at you like he’d done when covered in soap. Only this time, there were no imperfections to find.

Maybe this time…

At this point, the redhead returned from his evening jog to find the majority of his class crouched down and discreetly peering into the kitchen area with Jirou using her earphone jack to relay the conversation. Kirishima knew Bakugou had decided to make dinner tonight and no one would be brave enough to step foot in there, so the whole ordeal was honestly baffling - that is until he casually walked up to the counter without a care for his furiously protesting classmates attempting to drag him down to their level.

"No way, (L/n)-chan is here?! How've you been, long time no see!" He cheerily called, nodding to Katsuki and yourself who instantly parted from each other and received agonising cries from his peers who were hoping for a token of affection.

"Damn it shitty hair!" Katsuki cussed, sporting a glare appropriate for the self entitled ‘murder god’ whilst you hopped over to the shark-tooth hero equipped with an excited greeting.

"Hi Kirishima! Great to see you again."

“Huh? Was I interrupting something?”

Yourself and Bakugou exchanged a neutral glance, ready to answer ‘No’ but didn’t get the opportunity when a booming unanimous reply of irritation came from the entirety of 3A.

“YES!!”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the Obey Me brothers reacting to their s/o sending them selfies of them in skimpy outfits or completely nude?

Obey me Brothers + spicy pics from MC

Lucifer

Another tedious meeting that should have been an email. But Lucifer remained professional and stalwart as ever, so as to not embarrass Lord Diavolo.

The only exception he made was for his cellphone. Keeping it on silent, but on the table, as Lucifer had learned in the past if he didn’t check it at least regularly during these meetings it might be too late from when his brothers’ hijinks might ensure. Vering into calamity past hijinks.

He noticed he had a text from [Y/N] and was surprised as they usually never texted him when he was in these meetings. Respecting his work. If they were texting him, Lucifer assumed it was important and opened the text in a reserved manner so as not to draw attention.

When he saw what the text was, however, he had to grip his phone tight to the point of cracking to maintain that composure.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. It seems there is an important matter I must deal with at home. I’ll be back once the matter is taken care of. Thoroughly.”

Mammon

“Mammon-san! Over here!”

“Yes! That’s perfect! Hold that pose!”

“You look amazing Mammon-san!”

The Avatar of Greed grinned roguishly as he was showered with praise. He had to admit, he really was killing this photoshoot.

The photographer took a few more shots before they called for a break and the team moved in to touch him up. Offering him compliments still, along with water. Both of which Mammon drank up. One of the attendants handed him his phone from his dressing room. Giving him a few moments to check it before it was back to work.

He looked at a missed text from [Y/N] and nearly did a spit take of his water. Able to thankfully keep it down, but still coughed in a very un-model like manner at seeing their nearly naked form.

“I uh…I gotta go. We have enough for the magazine right?? Good. Great! Thanks for the opportunity and be sure to call me again!”

Mammon was then out the door fast than anyone could catch him. Including to get his wardrobe outfit off.

“Models….” The photographer muttered as he reset his camera to take shots of the background models in the meantime.

Levi

“On your right! On your right! NO! Your other right!!” Levi shouted into his headset as he tried to lead his team through the maze of undead swarm.

Zombie Zion XX9 had just come out this week and Levi had been grinding non-stop. He barely made time to sleep, much less do anything else, in pursuit of this final battle with the Mother Swarm of zombies (there by defeating the plague and saving the world from the undead at last).

“Guys, we have to get through the door together, otherwise we don’t get the ‘In This Together’ buff! You need to catch up to me! It’s…It’s…ugh! Hold on!” His phone had been buzzing beside him non-stop for the past minute with various texts.

Usually, he would ignore it. But something this persistent typically meant it was important, and what if it was his brothers telling him the house was on fire? He’d have to save his Ruri-chan figures if that was the case.

When he opened the text, Levi’s eyes bugged out and he felt his nose begin to well up with blood as he looked at the picture of [Y/N] in their cosplay panties.

“Levi! Where are you?! We’re getting hammered out here! Levi-!” The connection on his game went dead as the last of his team members died. The screen fading into a black screen of ‘game over’.

“Oh, come on!”

Satan

This anthology that Simeon had recommended to him was thrilling. Truly a masterpiece.

Satan had been absorbed into the new series almost since the first page. Devouring each of the nine books with vigor, much like his little brother did with food. He had forsaken all else, honestly, except reading the past few days. Anxious to find out who the final killer & mastermind behind the protagonist’s plight was, and finally get some answers.

He was nearly at the climax, the big reveal, when his phone started to buzz.

Grumbling that his concentration was broken, Satan picked it up to see who it was. His irksomeness quickly dissolving as he saw [Y/N]’s nearly naked chest in front of him.

He had a choice to make.

Continue reading and get the answers he needed, or put the book down and go to the person clearly in need of him. How was he to choose?

In the end, he put the book down and sprinted off to where [Y/N] was. If the main character could wait 10 years to find out who the killer was, surely Satan could wait a little longer to find out as well.

Asmo

Shopping was one of Asmo’s favorite past times. Going to stores and looking for the perfect item or accessory was like a little treasure hunt to him. Or just perusing the aisles and new merch like one would an art gallery, with the same enthusiasm for beauty. It was a wonderful afternoon. Especially if [Y/N] was with him.

[Y/N] had gone to try on some items that they found while Asmo continued to scan over the racks. His cellphone eventually buzzed, and he fumbled with his iced coffee to get it out of his bag. Seeing a picture of [Y/N] in the dressing room in a super cute bra and panty set with the question :should I get it?:

:OMG yes! 💓🥵🔥🔥: Asmo texted back immediately.

:It looks so good on you! Which dressing room are you in?? I want to see it in person! Should we get matching ones??:

He eventually found [Y/N] and showered them with praise. Insisting that he would buy it for them if they didn’t get it themselves, and offered to buy it in every color as well.

Beel

“98…99…100.”

Beel lifted the weights one final time and put the bar back on the rack. The weights clanking down with a heavy thud with the sheer mass of them. He loved getting a good workout in before he went home.

Heading over to his locker space to get some water and check his phone, Beel saw he had a text from [Y/N]. He opened it and saw the spicy picture they had just sent him. Usually only the 5x Hellfire Spicy noodles were the only spice that could make him drool this much. Clearly he was wrong.

Beel decided to, for once, cut his work out short. He quickly packed his bag and ran home to do some cardio on the way home. Planning to do some more ‘cardio’ when he got there.

He could make up for the missed sets in the morning before school. Since he’d be busy the rest of the night.

Belphie

Belphie yawned and rolled over as he woke up from his nap. His fifth of the day, so it was a pretty short one. Only about an hour this time.

He stretched and rubbed his eyes before reaching for his phone to see what time it was. He was immediately greeted with a text from [Y/N] on the screen. He felt a little bad for missing it while he was a sleep, but by now they had to know that he would get back to them eventually. Belphie opened it and was immediately greeted with something from his dreams.

:Are you still wearing that?: He texted them back.

:Come to my room: He then added. :In the attic. I’m still in bed. So half the work is done😉.:

He waited to hear back from [Y/N] and grinned when he saw them respond with they were on their way.

And his brothers made fun of him for being in bed all the time. With his soft mattress and [Y/N], why would he ever want to leave?

[genericpuff]

I've watched both (this is a hazbin hotel ask btw) but tend to keep my eyes closed to merch sales (and such forth) unless it can pierce my five degrees of separation

also gotta admit that I've been not keeping up with HB since... honestly the since the season end. yeah I'm behind.

What do you mean they're waiting for what's functionally pamphlets? It's taking MONTHS for a pamphlet?

That's funny in the bad way 😭

yeah so from MY UNDERSTANDING (i.e. correct me if I'm wrong) the playbill was part of some exclusive package deal where buyers would receive some keychains, trading cards, and a playbill which was supposedly going to be filled with exclusive interviews/quotes/background information/etc. about the show's production. That playbill was exclusive to the pre-orders, meaning if you didn't pre-order this merch package, presumably you could still purchase the merch package on its own (or possibly its parts separately on the merch site like the keychains n junk) but the playbill would ONLY be sent to those who pre-ordered.

The pre-orders started around a year or so ago, but then roughly 9 months ago when the bundles started to show up, people reported that the playbill - literally the centerpiece of the marketing - was missing.

Since then, the playbills still haven't arrived, but customers have gotten TWO separate emails written from the "characters" of Hazbin Hotel updating them on the situation. Yes, you read that right, the emails meant to update people on the part of their pre-order package that was still missing - a package that cost them $76 and again, the playbill was exclusive to - were written in-character like a roleplay post in a message board forum.

And for some reason, the A24 staff decided that Husk would be the best character to deliver the bad news, a character who is, like many characters in Hazbin, just an asshole.

It's wild that this even got approved as an official email from the A24 team because let's face it - if you had spent $76 with the good faith expectation that you were gonna get everything you were promised in return for that $76 is this really the response you'd want to get? I'm not exactly sure when this email was sent out but according to some of the people reporting on it via Twitter, it was around the end of January (so the end of the month that folks were expecting it to roll in). Not a great way to tell people that the product they're waiting on - and didn't expect to be missing in the first place - was delayed.

Months later, a second email rolled out, and A24 sort of learned their lesson, not by actually addressing their customers as human beings, but this time as Charlie, who is at least not a complete dickhead.

It still doesn't really answer any questions though because it's putting the responsibility on fictional characters to explain what's going on. So of course everything is masked behind the "teehee, Alastor did a naughty and Niffty got stuck in the printing press machine!" roleplaying talk which literally does not actually tell anyone what's really going on, just gives them a vague impression based on what they chose to make a fictional character say.

Sure, it's nicer than Husk, but it's still disingenuous and frankly just cringe esp when this is concerning the interests of paying customers.

I don't know if this is Vivzie's doing or someone else on the A24 team, but it really feels like they're trying to operate the same way HH would have operated back when it was just a Youtube series... but it's not a small-time Youtube production anymore, it's a full on Amazon show with hired employees and a customer base that expects the thing they paid for to actually show up. So at best this is just really immature mishandling of a situation that should be taken at least relatively seriously.

And really, out of all the things to delay... the playbills? Really? For anyone who's not familiar with what a playbill is, it's literally just a booklet. Professional, "Playbill" branded playbills that you see in legitimate theatre productions are (if I recall correctly) anywhere from 30-60 pages, but a lot of those pages are often dedicated to ad space of other productions and companies, with maybe only 10-15 pages dedicated to the actual production. People love collecting them though because you typically only receive them when you go to see a play itself, so it can be a great souvenir from limited run productions.

It's kinda like comic collecting for theatre-goers, they can serve as memorabilia or as "proof" that you were there to attend a specific show. Though playbills don't tend to accrue as much value as much as comics can, they can still have a lot of sentimental value.

Hazbin Hotel isn't a play though. It's a streaming show available on Amazon Prime that anyone can watch anywhere in the world. It doesn't exactly have the need for something like a playbill, because the exclusivity is simply tied to how much extra money you're willing to give them for the pre-order, not to any sort of unique in-person experience of going to the theatre and watching the show live with your own eyes.

Granted, Hazbin Hotel does obviously take heavy inspiration from theatre culture as it is itself a musical, so I can understand the novelty and appeal of creating a unique playbill for it. I just don't really understand why that's the item that got delayed when a booklet containing exclusive info should be one of the easiest things to make, especially when it comes to production costs (printing a bunch of playbills shouldn't be anywhere near as expensive as producing keychains and trading cards).

But there was an update on reddit about this a couple weeks ago and it seemingly contradicts what A24 - sorry, 'Charlie', sigh - said months ago that they were working hard on specifically printing and packaging the playbill orders-

FINALLY the HH fandom gets a real human being from A24 responding, but they're saying that the designs are still being worked on??? So this means they haven't even started printing the things yet?? So that's an entirely DIFFERENT issue that hasn't been addressed up until this point.

So yeah, again, I don't have any stakes in this and it's definitely not something that I'm like, putting a lot of emotional investment into, but it has still been fascinating to check in on every now and then. Big condolences to the HH fans who paid $76+ for this package and are still waiting for the MAIN CENTERPIECE to show up - if you're one of those fans and are now reading this, you're probably gonna be waiting a little while longer because apparently they haven't even designed them yet 💀😆

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 2 -- Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

You spend the car ride in silence. If your brother taught you anything about angry men it's that you don't speak to them without permission. You wince at the memories of his wrath which you saw matched in the eyes of Jake, your husband, throughout the wedding. So you keep yourself quiet and small, dreading your wedding night together.

Jake kept himself silent. He could feel your disappointment with him as your husband. You were likely plotting how to control him, make him miserable. He'd let you have the control if that's what you wanted. He can play the role as you need, or as your families need. But it was the private stuff that had him wanting to break. Would you let him play his video games? Would you constantly make fun of him, like so many others, for being himself? How much of himself will he have to sacrifice for the safety and security of his real family?

He pulls into the underground parking garage for the penthouse and parks. Not wanting to get lectured so soon, Jake is immediately out and going to open your door. He doesn't know that you only didn't open it because you weren't given permission. You step out and keep your eyes down so as not to anger him. As much as he's not looking forward to a life with a woman who drains his soul, it still hurts that you're so disappointed in him you can't even look at him.

The elevator ride is worse than the car ride. At least in the car you had buildings and people you could look at. Now it's just you and your eyes on the floor. You should be grateful he hasn't tried to touch you, but the fact that he puts as much distance between the two of you as he can speaks volumes. Jake tries making himself small in the hopes that you won't yell at him for taking up your space. The fact that you refuse to acknowledge him tells him a lot. When the doors open, Jake rushes into the entryway of the penthouse, the silence and tension was suffocating him. You hide your wince and try to make yourself smaller so you don't make him angrier at you than he clearly is.

Clay is waiting for the two of you in the entryway. He smiles, "good to know my pinto's got better speed and mobility than that fancy model they got you driving." Jake scoffs as he unlocks the door, using a keypad with the code he wants to change but knows he'll never be allowed to. Clay turns to you, "I know we were introduced earlier, but the whole thing was rather rushed. I'm Clay, Jake's boss, for lack of a better term." He holds out his hand and you shake it, you try to smile so as not to appear to be rude, but the day is weighing heavily on you.

Jake holds the door open for the two of you.

It's your first time seeing the place and you're immediately saddened by how much of it looks like your mother's tastes and preferences. It's overly crowded with useless, gaudy, overpriced things. You want to throw it all out. It's supposed to be a space for you and your husband, but it's just another reminder of how much your family still controls you. Jake groans as he looks around. Pulling out his phone, he quickly finds several "Internet of Things" devices that are easy to hack. Of course his parents would put in the fanciest refrigerators and thermostats without caring about the security risks. Jake doesn't need his refrigerator to connect to his phone, dammit!

Jake's groan makes you freeze. Clay asks, "what's wrong now?"

"I gotta do some serious cleanup for the sake of security," he grumbles. "Gotta make sure no one else actually gets to set the temperature of the thermostat, that I don't get text messages from my fridge, that my damn toaster doesn't get hacked!" He looks at you, "if that's okay with you, of course." His tone is bitter because he hates that he has to ask your permission for something so basic.

You nod, "of course." You keep your voice small, afraid of angering him any further. He really must hate you.

Clay looks at you, "how about you make yourself comfortable, little lady? I know it's your honeymoon and all, but Jake and I need to talk and who knows how long he's gonna be fixin' this internet problem y'all got."

You look to Jake but he's still on his phone so you ask, "is...is that okay with you?"

He gives you a confused look, "of course."

You make an internal note that, whatever Clay says goes. He's Jake's boss so you're best bet is to keep him happy to make Jake happy.

When you're out of sight Clay turns to Jake. "You best be gentle with that one, Jake. I think she's been through her own kind of hell."

"She's the spitting image of her mother, hasn't said a single word, can't even look me in the eye," Jake grouses. "She hates me and I'm likely going to spend the rest of my life never being good enough for her."

"I ain't so sure about that," he muses. "I get the impression she's afraid of you."

Chapter 2 -- Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness;

@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[mermaidsirennikita]

Sadly, the Wuthering Heights furor has also led to people (many of whom, let us be real, simply dislike the book or otherwise only think of it when it's brought up) to discourse about the content of the novel versus the wrongness of Emerald Fennell's choices with regards to the movie, which of course, has opened up the classic "IT'S NOT A ROMANCE! IT'S NOT A LOVE STORY! BAD PEOPLE! HATE STORY!"

... Which is... also a bad take.

First off, to be very clear, "Romance" is not inherently "genre romance", which is the thing I blog a lot about that was solidified in the latter half of the twentieth century (and which, no doubt, was influenced on some level by WH as much as Jane Eyre, Austen novels and so on). Wuthering Heights is a romance, it's just not a genre romance/romance novel. And indisputably, Wuthering Heights is a love story.

It may not be a love story you like. It may not be a love story with a happily ever after (though I will say—this is one of the few books where I think it's pretty debatable, as "wandering the moors as ghosts", if that is what happened, is kind of... what Cathy and Heathcliff would've wanted... and their ultimate desire was to be TOGETHER, regardless of whether or not it damned them, so is it an HEA in their freaky minds? Maybe so lol). It may ALSO be an abuse story in which the lovers act horribly to each other.... though, I gotta say, MUCH WORSE to literally everyone else in their lives than they do to each other...

But it's a love story. That is one of several things it happens to be. The entire novel is driven by this central love story between Heathcliff and Cathy—a love that is, contrary to what a surface-level reading or reading by word of mouth would imply... very much mutual. I've already gone on about how Cathy Earnshaw is not Heathcliff's victim the way Isabella Linton is, and how Cathy is very much as involved in the love affair as he is. But truly, while their individual internal struggles are the framework and what keeps them apart in many ways—Heathcliff being a man of color and subject to racist abuse, Cathy conforming to society and classist pressures when her natural temperament is very much not of society—what propels the story is this romance.

Because they are supposed to be read as extremely similar, and as two people who do not truly identify with anyone but one another. They're supposed to be read as like minds. They're supposed to be read as thwarted. Some of the things those two say about each other and to each other are legitimately some of the most romantic lines I've ever read.

I mean, are they also kind of sick and wrong? Sure! But I do find it kind of rich to see people who are totally fine with reading dark romance wring their hands over the public at large interpreting Heathcliff and Cathy's relationship as an epic romance. I don't have an issue with anyone enjoying either! But. Let us be real. Part of why y'all are even enjoying work like that is the standard that books like WH set, and the fact that WH does speak to the lure of the dark and the tragedy of people who are super imperfect... and also super in love... continuously fucking up their own lives (and the lives of basically everyone around them) in this push-pull of denial and desire.

When people say "HOW COULD ANYONE EVER INTERPRET THIS AS ROMANTIC?" I just have to question... did you read the book? Because even if it's not for YOU, if it's not romantic TO YOU, surely you can see why other people (me and mine lol) read lines like these and go, "Wow, romantic":

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

(fun fact: I do have a part of the above quote tattooed on my body and I'm very happy about it)

"My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

"Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips."

[said when her damn husband is almost at the door lol]

"I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own sake, forgive me!"

"'Heathcliff, dear! you should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff.’

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair. At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her; his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held asunder, and then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought my mistress would never be released alive..."

"Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?"

[Read: she is the murderer he is talking about. He's saying she doomed herself to death a long time ago, and he hates her for it. While also crying and kissing her lmao]

They're sickos! Nobody can argue otherwise. But that does not mean they're not in love, and it doesn't mean this isn't a love story, and wagging your fingers at people who read this as the obviously destructive love story this is and find it romantic... doesn't change that.

And the thing is that the book makes it pretttyyyy clear that even if Heathcliff and Cathy has assholery programed into their personalities, WITHOUT the contexts of how they were raised and the society that expects them both to conform to prescribed roles, they would probably just... be together. Like, they victimize people, especially Heathcliff. But they are also victims. The book isn't about a critique of two people Emily Bronte dreamed up; it's a critique of the CIRCUMSTANCES by way of Gothic, subversive melodrama. At the end of the day, their feelings, however passionate they are, are not inherently subversive. Their feelings are NATURAL. But they're twisted and contorted into something ugly through circumstance and the characters' responses to those circumstances.

For Heathcliff, A LOT of those circumstances that did twist him are in fact out of his control. Which is why we hate that casting, right?

But all that said, a love story being dirtybadwrong and about Bad People doesn't mean it isn't a love story, lol. Again—we don't even expect genre romance to be about good people.

Like. Yeah. We know Heathcliff and Cathy are assholes. You're not breaking new ground with that take. The book is still, in many ways, about those assholes being in love.

[frostiwars]

day 2!! first kiss!!

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO I DID IT

say hello to my kirby gijinka yaoi doujinshi manga

prose version will be under the cut! i'm so proud of myself for getting this done on time!

King Dedede and Meta Knight trailed through the halls of the palace, a cool tension still hanging between them. Meta Knight and Kirby had recently returned from their escapades in the Mirror Dimension, and Meta had just finished telling Dedede all the relevant details. A tumultuous mixture of pride and irritation swam through the king’s chest. 

“Yeah, that’s great ‘n all, but why didn’t ya tell me you were headin’ out on a dangerous mission like that?”

“...It didn’t seem relevant. I intended on dealing with this issue on my own, and it was only through sheer coincidence that Kirby happened to be nearby.”

“More like luck. You woulda been dead right now if it weren’t for that kid.”

“That is highly unlikely,” the knight retorted. “I would have been able to escape and take them down eventually.”

“And while that happened, Dreamland mighta crumbled without ya!”

“What, are you saying that you and Kirby wouldn’t have been able to keep things in shape if I weren’t here?”

Dedede spluttered. “N- no! I just- I don’t like the idea that-” He suddenly halted when he realized they were finally at his chamber doors. He eased them open roughly, mumbling to himself. The king only spoke again when they’d slammed shut behind him and Meta Knight. 

“I don’t want ya t’get hurt is all.”

“I am a warrior. Getting injured is inevitable.”

“NO! Not- that ain’t what I meant! I care about you, ya moron! I care about all my subjects!”

Meta Knight heaved a sigh. From Dedede’s perspective, it seemed he was dismissing whatever affection he had for the Voidborn…

But truthfully, Meta Knight wished the king’s care for him was more than just a king loving his loyal subject. He wished… No, it was selfish of him to want such a thing. He should be grateful enough as it is that Dedede accepted him back after the stunt he pulled a year or so ago. 

“I appreciate the sentiment…” was all he could muster up in reply. Dedede scoffed and sat down roughly on his bed, crossing his arms. 

“I guess that’s all I’m gonna get with ya, huh? Sheesh…”

A silence fell over them. Meta Knight clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure of whether to release his cape from his grip. If he really desired affection from the king that much, then shouldn’t he at least make some effort to show some vulnerability? The least he could do was stop hiding behind his cape like a child. But no, he couldn’t even do that…

“I… was just… trying to make things up to you…” he eventually murmured. 

“...Huh?”

“I didn’t want to ask for help. This was… this was supposed to be part of my atonement for my misdeeds against Dreamland. Against… you. But I see now that was a foolish endeavor.”

Dedede diverted his gaze away from the knight, opting to stare out the window at the sunset. Again and again, he tried to forget that incident with his best knight never happened. But he kept… bringing it up! What was his problem anyway? It was a damn embarrassment, more than anything else. For BOTH of them. Why Meta didn’t want to just forget about it was beyond him. 

“I don’ really care about that, y’know. You don’t gotta keep kickin’ yourself for somethin’ I already…” He didn’t want to say he ‘forgave’ him for it. Because he couldn’t forgive someone for something that they never explained to him. He just… wanted to ignore it. Like he ignored all his problems. 

“You may want to forget it, but I don’t wish to make the same mistake again. The only way that I can end that incident is if I properly atone for it.”

Dedede clenched his fists. “Y’know what would REALLY help atone? Actually tellin’ me WHY you did it in the first place!”

“I already told you why.” Meta Knight had to resist every urge in his body to not shout back at his king. Arguing like this would not help matters. “I disagreed with the lazy lifestyle of this country and your lackadaisical approach to ruling your people. I thought I would be better suited for the throne. It was a ridiculous notion. That was all.”

“NO! No it AIN’T! That CAN’T be it!”

“WHY?” he finally snapped back, letting his cape flow loose behind him as he gestured with his arms. “What reason do you have to believe that??”

“Because I- I mean I was TRYIN’! I was doin’ better! I- I tried to stop Nightmare and I- I almost did- I-” Dedede crossed his arms and gripped the fabric of his coat. “I tried t’fight back against that Dark Matter creep and- I- I know I didn’t win, but I tried my best… I was really tryin’ to be a better king for once. And- and what do I get for it?!”

He pointed accusingly at Meta. “My best knight tries to overthrow me! NO! I DON’T get it! Was I not ENOUGH!? Should I’a just TRIED HARDER?! Oh, sure, let me just STOP MYSELF from gettin’ possessed next time! That was MY FAULT, wasn’t it?! It was MY FAULT Kirby couldn’t just keep t’themself and had to go huntin’ all across the country just cuz a couple brats couldn’t stand a few bad dreams! Yeah- I shoulda TRIED harder!!”

At this point, the king was on his feet and practically in a rage. Meta Knight clenched his fists and tried not to step back. He had to stand his ground. But… but he didn’t realize…

Well, of course it made sense. He thought that Meta Knight thought he deserved it. That wasn’t what he meant at all… but he never told him that either. 

“It wasn’t your fault…” Meta Knight spoke in a low, almost gravelly tone. “That was the entire problem.”

Dedede’s breath still huffed in rage, but he waited for the knight to continue.

“I… those things never should have happened the way they did in the first place. You hid the truth of what you did to the Dream Fountain because you didn’t think the people could handle it. You were possessed by that demon because no one was keeping a proper eye on you… No one was doing their damn job. It was JUST you… just you and Kirby… and Kirby is a mere child.”

“What’re you sayin’??”

“I- It’s not just that. There was more. So much more I didn’t even know about. I looked into the history of Dreamland, and I looked into… your past as well.” At that, Dedede flinched, imperceptibly to himself but noticeable to Meta Knight. “There was so much, so many piled up incidents that I realized… you’re not… you’re not safe being the king of Dreamland.”

Dedede grit his teeth and his eyes widened. “Are you sayin’ I’m too WEAK to handle this shit?! Are you KIDDING ME!? THAT’S YOUR EXCUSE?!”

Meta Knight backed up against the wall as the king drew closer, his utter hatred fully palpable. “N- No- that’s not what I meant at all! I just-”

“You can’t just- I can’t BELIEVE you! What do you think I am?! Do you think I’m some pathetic kid that needs t’be coddled or something?!”

“Of course not- I don’t- It’s not as if I still think that- I really did- DO want what’s best for you-”

“HA! That’s the biggest pack of lies I’ve heard in a LONG time! And that’s sayin’ something, considering how much you lie to me ALL THE TIME.” King Dedede slammed his foot against the ground, almost leaving chips in the tiled floor. Meta Knight pushed past him and ran off a few feet, trying to escape the increasingly claustrophobic atmosphere. But he was still in the same room. All he did was run closer to the bed. 

But Dedede didn’t follow him. He just… glared at his back from across the room. Meta Knight leaned over, trying to calm his hyperventilation. This never would have happened if he had just… been honest with himself. King Dedede was right… he was right about him, all along. All he ever did was lie. 

He spoke through deep breaths. “You’re… right… I’m still lying to you… even now… I can’t ever… just be honest with myself… can I..?”

Dedede didn’t reply beyond taking a few steps closer to him. He reached forward to turn Meta Knight around so he would quit hiding from him, but his hand froze in the air.

Meta’s hand reached up and unclasped the latch holding his mask to his head. The bit of hair normally tamped down by the leather sprung up… his mask… now dangled loosely by his hip.

But he didn’t turn around.

King Dedede had never seen Meta Knight’s face before. Well, strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, but they were both kids at the time. He didn’t know at all what he looked like now, or why he so desperately tried to hide his face at all times. 

What was his game here?

“You’re right… my king. I have been hiding so many things from you. I’ve been lying to you, and I’ve been lying to myself. For almost a year… maybe more…”

“Uh…” This time, Dedede was the one who had to resist the urge to take a step back. The shock of Meta Knight removing his mask, even if he couldn’t see his face, was more than enough to cool down his head. “L- look I… I didn’t mean t’- I shouldn’ta said those things. I’m sorry- I’m sure you didn’t mean it like that and I- uh- I don’t even care anymore-”

“Now YOU are lying,” Meta Knight shot back coldly. “This has been bothering you for a while. And it will continue to bother you until I speak honestly. Correct?”

Damn him… of course he was right. But he didn’t WANT to admit Meta was ever right about anything. “Look, if you drop it, I’ll drop it.”

The knight’s voice shook in a way Dedede had never heard before. “No… I really shouldn’t keep lying… I might never see you again after this. But I need you to know my most honest, genuine self before that happens.”

“Wh- wait- wait what’dya mean I might not-” He didn’t want to go THAT far! He was just a bit mad, he didn’t- 

In one swift motion, Meta Knight spun around to face his king and grabbed his face in both his hands, pulling him down to his level. He stood on his toes and practically smashed their lips together, locking them in his with an intense, almost burning warmth. Dedede’s eyes shot wide open, but all he could see was his knight’s eyes creased shut, an almost pained expression on his face.

For a split second, Dedede considered resisting… but in an instant he realized what this meant… the implications of this kiss paired with the declaration of worry for the king’s safety… to such an extent that he would try to take his place… 

It’s not just because he thought he was weak… no… it’s because he genuinely cared… about HIM. He… was in love with him.

Someone was in love with King Dedede so much that he would tear the world apart to keep him ‘safe.’

He’d never felt such a painful joy in his heart before. 

Had… had no one ever made him feel loved like this before..? Is that why it hurt so much..? Or was it Meta Knight’s misguided plan that hurt even more? Did he really misunderstand him so much that… he didn’t realize Dedede wouldn’t want something like that?

No… he knew he was wrong… he’d proved himself to Dedede twice over now. He protected this planet during the Crystal Shard Hunt, and just now, he managed to save the Mirror Dimension from Dark Mind. He proved that he could be trusted. And he’d made it clear time and time again that he knew he was wrong.

Dedede pressed his hands against Meta’s, holding him in place and leaning into the kiss. He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in this sensation he didn’t recognize.

This love he didn’t recognize.

Is this what love feels like too? This burning in his chest? This pounding of his heart? He did value Meta Knight as his best warrior up until now… and he didn’t realize they could ever be more than that. He felt as if a whole new world of possibilities had opened up to him. Like seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of gray.

If this was what love felt like, he’d be more than happy for seconds. 

Eventually, Meta Knight pulled away and gently opened his eyes. As Dedede did so as well, he was instantly struck by the knight’s face.

He was… beautiful.

Those glowing, golden eyes framed by sun-darkened skin and deep-blue locks… that deceptively youthful face contrasted against the harsh, visceral scarring… 

It was just like him, wasn’t it? Of course a person with a nightmarishly deep voice would come out lookin’ like the cutest man this side of Pop Star. He couldn’t expect anything from him, could he?

The man lowered his head, shadowing his face in his bangs. He sounded on the verge of tears as he spoke. 

“I… I understand if you never want to see me again…”

“Wh- NO! No, don’t go!” the king shouted with such desperation that it made his heart ache. He couldn’t just show him what love was and then abandon him! 

“I don’t- I- I understand- you wish to punish me, of course-”

“NO!! NO, no, don’t go- don’t leave- I- I mean- I like- I liked it!!” was all he could splutter out, baffling both of them in the process.

“You… what…?” 

“I mean I- I don’t want you to- I get it! I get it! You… oh geez…” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing up his crown in the process. He didn’t even bother to catch it as it fell to the floor. “I didn’t even realize you felt this way… man, am I dense…”

“No, my king, this isn’t your fault! I- I was hiding it from you all this time because… well, I don’t even know anymore. I couldn’t express myself properly. I couldn’t just be honest…”

“Pff- yeah, you’d rather overthrow the government than just say ‘I like ya.’ SHEESH.” Dedede harrumphed lightheartedly and plastered on one of his classic cheery grins. It was enough to make Meta Knight’s heart skip a beat… and remember why he fell in love in the first place.

He was so happy… all the time, despite everything.

“I love that about you… You really do just… manage to push through everything, don’t you?” 

“Ehaha~ I try my best!” Dedede scratched the back of his head. There was that word again… ‘Love.’

Somebody loved him… He didn’t know that was possible.

Just the very idea made him want to explode. How could he possibly turn this down? Already, the very idea of being in love made his heart race.

Meta Knight… strong, brave, beautiful, determined Meta Knight. His most valued court member, without any doubt. He’d been his best friend at the time of the Fountain of Dreams incident. That was why he trusted him with the pieces.

Even after the betrayal, it only hurt so much because he cared about him so much. Even now, he wanted him safe… The idea of him getting stuck in a creepy alternate dimension… sure, it would frighten anyone… but the whole time, he couldn’t help but think if Meta Knight would make it out alive. Wondering if he’d never see his dear knight again. Wondering if they’d end off their relationship on a tense, unsatisfied note. If they’d never get to reconcile…

It wasn’t unnatural at all, was it? Maybe he just needed it to be put into words. Even admitting it in a roundabout way was good enough, yeah? He wanted this, he realized. He wanted this. 

King Dedede laughed again. “But, uh, t’be honest, you ain’t too bad yourself! I mean, I didn’t even know we COULD be in love but… all the reasons you’re my best knight? They’re the things I like about YOU!” He placed his finger under the knight’s chin, and that gesture alone made both their hearts nearly explode. “So… I guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

Meta Knight chuckled. “Is that how we want to phrase it?”

“Pfff, alright, since obviously YOU’RE not gonna say it!” Dedede took another step closer. “D’you wanna kiss me again?”

This time, Meta Knight hesitated.

“You’re not… you aren’t disgusted by my face?”

“What? Of course not! You look gorgeous!”

Meta Knight’s blush stickers lit up like fireworks at that compliment, accentuating the natural blush flushing his face ever-darker. He lowered his head once more and had to clench his fists to stop himself from burying his face in his hands. “Th- thank you, my king.”

“No problem ya big dork. Now… why don’t ya… uh…” Eh- heheh… as excited as he was about this, he wasn’t any good with pretty talk. This was his first experience after all. Crap, how do you say ‘kiss me’ in a way that makes someone actually wanna do it?

“Why don’t you show me that love again?”

Yeah… that seemed good enough..!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bad Day at Black Rock | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: panic attack/PTSD, recovering from a sexual assault (HEED THESE WARNINGS ESPECIALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6673

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“What?!” you exclaimed. “She’s a demon, and you didn’t gank her?!”

Sam had just finished telling you and Dean about this Ruby girl he’d met. 

“No, (Y/N), I mean, she seemed pretty helpful on the Seven Deadlies case.”

“Wait, she’s the blonde chick?!” you realized. “Why the fuck would a demon help me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “That’s what I’m trying to understand, too. And if she helped us then, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have at least listened to what she had to say.”

“Because ‘demon,’ that's why,” Dean snapped angrily. “I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don't chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because she said she might be able to help us out!”

“With what, though, Sam,” you chimed in. “You’ve never said how she’s supposed to be able to help us. Or with what.”

“She told me she could help Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean seemed to not understand.

“With the crossroads deal, I’m assuming,” you told him.

Sam nodded.

The older brother looked at Sam incredulously. “What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is; it's me.” Dean paused for a second. “What else did she say?”

Sam was quiet again.

You and Dean leaned in expectantly. “Dude?” the older brother questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing, Okay?!” Sam snapped. “Look, I'm not an idiot, guys. I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are; we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it.”

“You're okay right, I mean you're feeling okay?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed. “Yes I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?”

You looked between the two brothers when a phone began ringing. You checked your pockets; no buzzing. Sam and Dean’s phones weren’t ringing either. 

“Check the glove box, it's Dad's,” Dean suddenly realized.

“Dad’s?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

‘Smart boy,’ you thought.

Sam opened the glove box and found the ringing phone. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey… No! No, no, no, don't – don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my - my book in front of me—” Sam gestured to you for a pen, which you quickly handed to him— “do you- do you have the address so I can... Sure, okay. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot.” He then hung up and turned to Dean. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Outside of Buffalo?”

The older brother shook his head. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

***

“No demons allowed,” Sam noted upon entering his father’s storage container. A large Devil’s Trap was etched into the ground, and two sets of bloody footprints traveled right through it. 

“Check this out,” Dean said, stooping to hold up a tripwire. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. 

“Whoever broke in here got tagged,” Sam said.

“I got two sets of boot treads here,” you announced, “looks like it was a two-man job. And Buckshot Boy looks like he kept walking.” You nodded toward the bloody footprint trail leading into the container.

“So, what's the deal?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dad would do work here or something?”

“Living the high life, as usual,” Dean quipped.

The three of you crept around John’s storage locker, and the two brothers chatted about how much of a mystery their father still was to them. You took in the varying types of clutter. To your surprise, the room was filled with old memorabilia; photo albums, a graduation cap and gown you assumed was Sam’s, and a few boxes whose contents were written on the outside of them in a woman’s handwriting you assumed belonged to Mary. 

You smiled at a trophy on a shelf nearby. “Check it out,” you said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Sam Winchester, 1995,” you read aloud, “Soccer Division Championship.”

Sam grinned and came over to you. “No way! I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled lopsidedly, “it was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy.” He wandered over to another table with a shotgun laid on it. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother laughed and pumped the dusty shotgun.

“You made that?” you questioned.

“Not bad, eh?” he grinned excitedly.

“No, not at all,” you giggled. “Damn, dude.” You took the gun from him and inspected it, impressed with Dean’s craftsmanship. He smiled proudly at you.

“Guys, over here,” Sam said. You followed his voice over to a door to a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and you cautiously made your way inside.

You waved your flashlight around the room to find varying weapons and lockboxes that no doubt held nasty supernatural objects.

“Holy crap. Look at this,” Dean called, “he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?”

You took in the lockboxes on the shelf on the far wall. “This is binding magic,” you pointed out. “Curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean questioned. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up,” Dean added.

“Must be his sulfur-sludge dump,” you joked. You noticed a rectangular-shaped hole in the dust that had settled over the shelf. “Well, they found what they were looking for.”

“Great,” Sam groaned.

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean suggested optimistically. 

“Cute thought, but I’m sure they did,” you replied flippantly. You looked around the exterior of the storage unit for anything that could be of use to you; footprints, tire tracks, and… aha! A security camera.

“That’s helpful,” you noted, pointing up at it. 

The boys helped you fish the SD card out of the security camera, and you hooked it up to your computer. 

“There, license plate,” you noted. “And now…” you pulled up an alternate tab and copied the license plate number into it. Immediately, pages began scrolling of places the license plate had been seen at. Most recently, an apartment not too far from you. 

“Ta-da,” you announced childishly, and the brothers looked at you in shock.

“Jesus, (Y/N), how’d you get access to all this?” Sam asked.

“Oh, y’know,” you smirked, trailing off. 

Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Same way any hackers do,” you shrugged. “Had this guy on the hook for a bit when I was, maybe, twenty. Found out he was an FBI agent in the cyber unit— not the brightest of the bunch— and I phished his computer. Of course, as soon as I did, the computer broke and shut down. Told him I was good with computers and could fix it for him, and then, I cut and run. Fixed the laptop up and had access to everything he had access to. Exported it to my laptop, ditched his somewhere in Arizona, and here we are.”

“That is…” Dean trailed off, “incredibly hot.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. 

“Get a room,” Sam mumbled, moving over to the Impala.

***

You and the Winchesters crept into the apartment belonging to the drivers of the stolen Connecticut vehicle, guns drawn. You could hear two men chattering about their poker game, and then you finally burst into the room on Dean’s nod.

“Freeze, freeze! Nobody move!” he commanded.

“He said don’t fucking move!” you ordered, pinning the bandaged, redheaded man to his seat with your gun.

“What is this?” the other man questioned.

“Stop!” Sam demanded. 

“Alright, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't–”

Sam cut Dean off. “Oh, they did.”

“You opened it?!” Dean grunted. He shoved the dark-haired man against the wall.

“Are you guys cops?!” the man pinned wondered.

“What was in the box?” Dean questioned angrily.

You noticed a rabbit’s foot on the edge of the table. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. 

“Oh, was that it, huh?” Dean laughed coldly. “It was, wasn't it? What is that thing?”

The man used Dean’s distraction to knock the gun out of his hand. When it fell to the floor, it fired, and you had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit in the face by the bullet.

The bullet ricocheted off the radiator and hit Sam’s gun, and he dropped it. The same bullet somehow ricocheted and hit a lamp, breaking it. You dove across the floor, trying to grab Sam’s gun, and the redheaded man pushed Sam down on top of you.

“The fuck, Sam?!”

“Sorry!”

You scrambled toward the redhead, and he backhanded you, somehow knocking you off balance and sending you to the floor. You normally wouldn’t have been so thrown off by such a simple move, but that rabbit’s foot was definitely working its magic. 

“Dean, I got it!” Sam announced. You turned around to see him holding the rabbit’s foot.

“Fuck, Sam, no!” you cried upon seeing him holding the cursed object.

The dark-haired man moved forward holding Dean’s favored gun and cocked it in his face. The man pulled the trigger in Sam’s face, but the gun jammed. 

‘Thank god.’

A quick scuffle ensued in which the two men opposing you had a bookshelf fall on them and a carpet got wrapped around their ankles and tripped them. Both men knocked themselves out, and Dean laughed triumphantly.

“That was a lucky break!”

“No, not lucky!” you shrieked. “Sam, that’s a rabbit’s foot!”

“Uh, yeah?” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” you panicked. 

“No, what are you—”

“I’m calling Bobby,” you said, storming out of the apartment and back to the Impala. 

“Whoa, whoa, why? I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, (Y/N),” Dean countered, catching up to you. 

“Because that’s a rabbit’s foot, Dean! A cursed object! Its literal function is to bring bad luck,” you explained.

“How?” Sam asked. 

“Once you touch it, you’re marked. Luck’s gonna be on your side.”

“Better buy some lottery tickets then,” Dean chuckled excitedly.

You glared at him. “But if you lose it, you’re fucked. It’ll keep bringing you bad luck till it eventually kills you.”

“Well, I just won’t lose it, then,” Sam tried. 

“Everybody loses it, Sam! That’s the whole point!”

The two boys looked slightly shaken; Sam more so than Dean. Dean was laughing all the way to the bank on this one, and he dragged you and Sam to a gas station to get lottery scratch-off tickets. Then, he drove you to a restaurant chain location called Biggerson’s for some dinner. 

You sat on the phone with Bobby, the two of you angrily muttering about the insanity of the situation to each other.

“Gotta say, kid,” Bobby started, “was hoping the next time I heard from ya, it’d be on happier terms than this.”

“Trust me, me too,” you sighed. “Do you know of anything that can stop this?”

“I’ll dig around—”

Bobby’s voice in your ear was cut off by Dean triumphantly exclaiming, “twelve-hundred dollars! You just won twelve-hundred dollars!”

You grimaced and put the phone back to your ear.

“I’m guessing Sam’s luck’s still good,” Bobby drawled.

“For now, but I don’t know for how much longer.” You got out of the car, suddenly feeling suffocated in the Impala. You paced around, as did Sam, and you watched as he walked over to something glistening under a newspaper on the ground. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Lemme look through my library and make some calls,” Bobby said. “Call me if anything else goes to shit.”

You laughed, and Sam stood up holding a golden watch. He turned to Dean who stood next to you and mouthed something like, “Awesome,” to his brother.

“Will do,” you told the older man on the phone. “Hurry, Bobby.” You hung up as Dean calculated the winnings from the scratch-off tickets he made Sam fill out.

“Oh, man!” Dean grinned. “We’re up fifteen grand!”

You and Sam half-smiled, both feeling unsettled still.

Dean continued to laugh as he walked into the restaurant with you hot on his heels. 

“In case you forgot, Dean, we’re still technically fugitives,” you hissed. “If Sam’s luck goes to hell, we could be royally fucked.”

“Don't worry,” Dean said easily. “Bobby 'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. Sam can be Rain Man.”

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam whispered. He turned to the man behind the host stand. “Hi, uh, table for three, please.”

The man’s face broke out into a grin, and he hollered, “Congratulations!” An alarm began to sound through the restaurant.

“It's exciting, I know,” Dean quipped.

“You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” the man announced. 

The staff surrounding you began singing and taking photographs while they shoved a giant check into your hands. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and you and Sam would’ve rathered been anywhere else. Dean was ecstatic, though, which you were happy to see. You’d suffer tremendous embarrassment fifty times over just to see him smile. That thought scared you a little bit; how you'd do anything for him. You had a tendency to be an extremist.

You were escorted to your table, and a gorgeous waitress in what was clearly a black bob wig approached your table. 

Her coy smile was alluring, but something about her wasn’t sitting right with you. Still, nothing seemed off through the rest of the meal. Sam clacked away on his laptop rattling off bits of lore he was reading on rabbit’s foot Hoodoo magic while you and Dean shared a bowl of ice cream. 

“I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's,” Dean commented. 

The waitress came back over to your table with a pot of coffee and grinned at Sam. “Can I freshen you up?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

The waitress poured, still smiling, and spilled some in her flirtatious stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me mop up here. Sorry about that.” She hurriedly cleaned her mess and left the table, appearing to flirt with Sam over her shoulder even as she left.

“Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky…” Dean trailed off.

Sam smirked. “Shut up.”

You smacked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Sam went to pick up his coffee, but he knocked the cup over and spilled it all over himself. Before you could process what was going on, he jumped out of his seat and into a waiter with a full tray. Things went flying through the air as Sam rushed profuse apologies. 

“Sam, check your pockets,” you said evenly. 

He did, and his hands came up empty.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

You and the brothers threw a wad of cash on the table and raced into the parking lot after the waitress. You noticed the black bob wig ditched on the ground a few feet from the door. “I knew it was a wig!”

“What?” Sam asked, turning around to you. He immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. 

“Wow! You suck!” Dean laughed, turning back to a groaning Sam.

“Ow,” the younger brother whined while you helped him up. His knees were bloody and raw through his ripped jeans.

“So what, now your luck turns bad?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, Dean, I believe I’ve said that,” you remarked, and he glared at you. 

“Well, how bad does it get, genius?” 

“Really bad. C’mon,” you urged. 

“Where we goin’?” Sam asked.

“Back to the two jackwads that got us into this mess,” you said, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

“Whoa, who said you could drive?” Dean questioned.

“Me. Don’t be a child,” you said. 

***

You broke into the apartment once again to find the brunet man sadly downing a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, man. What do you want?” the man asked.

“Heard about your friend. That's bad luck,” Dean tsked, referring to the death of the redheaded thief. 

“Piss off,” the man spat.

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman,” Dean continued.

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she just stole it back from us.”

The man laughed. 

Sam stepped forward. “Listen man, this is seri—” and then he fell to the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player and a shelf down on top of him. 

You turned back to help the younger brother up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling awkwardly in thanks for your help. 

“I want you to tell us her name,” the older Winchester continued to the man. 

“Fuck you,” was the only response he got.

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner,” you tried, coming out from behind the couch.

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t been thinkin’ it. I thought you’d be smarter than that,” you challenged. That seemed to get under the man’s skin, so you continued. “That series of unfortunate events that had to happen to kill your partner— like, had you not seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it— that was the rabbit’s foot. If you don’t help us stop this thing, those deaths are on you, my friend.”

The man in front of you looked worried. 

“And I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem you’re cut out for the whole killin’ thing. You don’t wanna be a killer, do you?” you continued to press.

The man shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “No.”

***

You left the apartment repeating the woman’s last name over and over in your head. The man told you “Lugosi” was the only name he and his partner were given when they were hired. 

You took out your phone and called Bobby. 

“Hey, (Y/N), glad you called,” you heard the man say. 

“Hey, we got a situation here—”

“I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick,” Bobby continued. 

“That’s awesome, thank you, but uh…” you trailed off, trying to decide how to phrase your next words. You decided not to sugarcoat it in the end. “Sam lost the foot.”

“He what?!”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. You turned back around to see Sam and Dean trying to use a broken storm grate to get gum off the bottom of Sam’s shoe. You shook your head at their faces when they noticed you; seeming like two little kids caught with their hands in the candy bowl. You returned your focus to your phone call. “Listen, you know anybody by the name ‘Lugosi’? Maybe mid 20’s, super hot, my height—”

“Aw, crap. It’s probably Bela,” Bobby said. 

“ Bela Lugosi? That’s cute, but never heard of her,” you replied.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name,” the older man continued. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”

“How the hell would she know John had the rabbit’s foot? She a hunter?” you questioned.

“Pretty fuckin’ far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,” Bobby explained. “Last I heard, she was in the Middle East someplace.”

“Well, she’s back!” you mock-cheered, exasperated.

“Which means seriously bad luck for you,” the older man added.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” you quipped.

“Well, kid, if it is Bela, at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,” he finished. 

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything.”

“Just… look out for those two idjits.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned back around to see Dean reaching through the storm drain and Sam looking dejected. 

“What happened?” you asked.

“I lost my shoe,” the brunet replied sadly. 

Your eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, and Sam’s head hung low. Dean seemed annoyed and huffed, standing up from the floor. 

“C’mon,” the older brother asserted.

***

Bobby did actually have a pretty good lead on Bela; she apparently lived in Queens about two hours away. 

“So what are we doing here?” Sam questioned, referencing the motel you’d just gotten a room at. 

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed,” Dean stated. “And (Y/N), you’re staying with him.”

“What?! Why?” you protested. 

“Because Sam actually listens to you when you tell him not to do something. And you’re way more responsible than me,” Dean shrugged simply.

“Fair point,” you sighed. “Knowing you, you’ll touch the stupid rabbit’s foot, though.”

“Pfft, c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about—”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you dryly stated.

Dean glared at you playfully as he walked Sam into a motel room. You followed close behind and peeked out the door to make sure you weren’t followed. 

“What am I even supposed to do, Dean?” Sam whined.

“Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here—” the older brother pulled a chair into the middle of the room— “and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose.” Dean turned to you. “If I’m not back by midnight, take off.”

“What, you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” you snickered.

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“Since when?”

“(Y/N)—”

“Okay, okay, fine, I heard you.”

Dean smirked down at you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.

You watched him leave, a bit of your heart tugging at being anywhere without him. Your feelings for him were certainly growing stronger, and it frightened you how constantly you needed to be near him. 

You turned back to see Sam wrinkle his nose a few times before finally risking a scratch at it. 

“Hey! None of that,” you said. 

Sam’s sad eyes turned to yours. “This fuckin’ sucks, man,” he sighed.

“I know it does. Kinda the whole point of the rabbit’s foot curse,” you commented.

He ignored your smart remark.

“Found anything on how to break Dean’s deal?” you asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Did find out something interesting, though.”

“What?’ you asked.

“All my mom’s old contacts? All her old friends, the nurse who delivered me— they’re all dead,” he explained.

“What?!” you shrieked. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Sam said. “Didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean; he’d go berserk.”

“You know I have to tell him, right?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no! Please don’t,” he begged. “Please. You know he’d flip. And, uh, probably more because of the way I got that information than the information itself.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ruby told me.”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), I mean, I called, and it all checks out. It’s got something to do with me and the demon; I know you recognize that pattern,” Sam tried.

“I do, but I don’t like being constantly stuck in the middle of you and Dean,” you said. “I’m supposed to be Switzerland, remember?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Switzerland didn’t have information on the two sides, she just didn’t pick one,” he shrugged.

“Sam,” you warned, “You know how I feel about keeping things from Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you wouldn’t necessarily be keeping it from him, you’d be…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase his next words, “fulfilling a promise to me.”

“But I didn’t promise anything,” you argued.

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean. Not till I’m ready,” Sam begged.

“Sam!”

“(Y/N/N), c’mon. Please, man. Please.”

You stared at Sam for a prolonged moment; you stared intensely and Sam looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes from his chair. You sighed and dropped your head forward. “Fine. But you are gonna promise me that you’ll tell Dean eventually. That’s my one condition.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam’s chair. “You Winchesters and your secrets.”

“Oh, like you don’t have any,” Sam deadpanned.

You looked up at the television and saw the reflection of your guard uniform and scratched-up face staring back at you. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Touché.” You paused for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What are you gonna do when—” you cut yourself off, tears beginning to well in your throat. You took a deep breath to push them down. “When Dean’s gone?” 

Sam shook his head. “(Y/N), no. He’s not gonna—”

“Sam,” you said. “We are trying everything we can. We’re two months into this thing and no closer to saving him than we were on day one. I stopped looking. Not ‘cause I don’t care anymore, but because I’m not gonna send you to Hell just so Dean can live. I mean, Bobby’s been lookin’, too! And he hasn’t found a damn thing. So I just think we have to be real with ourselves.”

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose him,” you said, putting your hand on Sam’s knee to make him look at you and beginning to cry, too. “I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But… I’m scared, man. When I lost my family…” you closed your eyes at the memory of some of the awful things you’d done and would never forgive yourself for, “I don’t wanna do that again. And… And I just think that if we kept huntin’ together, we could keep tabs on each other. Make sure the other doesn’t go rogue, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re just gonna give up on him like that,” Sam spat, disappointed. 

“I’m not!” you argued. “But I’m not gonna help you kill yourself, dammit! Dean would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself!”

“Look, we’ve got ten months left. We’ll find something,” Sam continued. 

“I hope you’re right, man. I really do,” you said.  

Neither of you said anything for the next few hours.

During that time, you took out your journal and wrote. You didn’t usually keep journals when you were done with them as your duffel bag would be filled to the brim with them by now, but you were definitely going to keep this one; especially after Dean was gone. 

It was somewhat poetic that the first day you met the boys was the first time you’d written in this particular journal. Its pages were filled with your, at first, disdainful musings about the older Winchester brother and slowly but surely became your attempts at discerning your feelings for him.

You liked to buy quite thick and large journals to have enough room for your drawings and to be able to continue writing in them for months and occasionally years. This was the longest you’d been able to stretch one, though, and you were a little over three-fourths through writing in it. 

“I can’t help but wonder what comes next after all this,” you wrote, the pen gliding easily against the page in time with your racing thoughts. “I’ve always been awful about ‘futurecasting’ as Dad called it, but it’s even worse now. Every second I’m with Dean, I can’t help but think about how this is all gonna be over in less than a year. And it’s awful. I wanna be present with him. I just can’t. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I don’t even know if we are anything! He can’t even tell me he loves me.

“And I get it to some extent. ‘I love you’s are hard for him. Fine. I just wish he’d figure out some way to communicate with me that isn’t sex. I mean, the sex is great, but. I don’t know. And just after everything that happened, I’m not feeling great about having sex anyway. And I know it’s upsetting him, even if he won’t say anything; he’d never pressure me, and I know that. And I’m getting better about sex and related things. But it just sucks.

“And I don’t wanna bring any of this up with him and start fights because, as I’m painfully aware, that deadline is getting closer and closer every day. I just want him to be happy with me while he still can be.”

You dropped your pen when the air conditioning unit next to you began to smoke. 

“Oh come on, I- I didn't- I wasn't—” Sam whined.

“Just stay put,” you said. You jerked back in surprise when the unit suddenly caught fire. You grabbed the comforter from the bed next to you and began to put the fire out with it. Thankfully, the fire stopped. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get someone to fix that for us before your luck kills us both with carbon monoxide poisoning,” you said, starting toward the door. 

Suddenly, the door to the motel room burst open. However, it wasn’t Dean who opened it. It was two men. You drew your gun and cocked it, trained on the two men. “Get the fuck out,” you ordered. 

“I don’t think so,” said the older-looking man. He almost reminded you of Willem Dafoe, and you mentally pegged that as his name. The other man with a bizarre-looking mustache charged you, and you fired. Somehow, the bullet missed its target despite him being in such close range. 

“What the hell, Sam?!” you exclaimed. “Your luck’s rubbin’ off on me!”

“Sorry!” he winced.

The man charging you tried to restrain you in a headlock, but you kicked him squarely between the legs. You jutted your elbow back into his nose simultaneously, and the man dropped you. 

Unfortunately for you, though, Sam had been trying to help you by taking on Willem Dafoe. You turned around to see Sam unable to land a punch on the other man’s face. You tried to help him, but Sam ended up punching you across the face, and you were knocked out cold.

***

When you woke up, your arms were bound behind your back, and your legs were taped together as well. The men had laid you on your stomach, and you immediately began to struggle and panic, feeling your current position was too similar to the one you’d been in with the guard. 

“Dean! Help me!” you wailed without thinking. Your body was in autopilot as you struggled, and you couldn’t even focus on the men in the room. 

“Quit whinin’,” the man with the mustache told you. 

You could barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. “Dean!”

“I said shut up!” the man in front of you roared, slapping you across the face.

You couldn’t, though, continuing to flail like a fish out of water.

“Creedy,” the other man said, turning away from Sam and to his accomplice, “shut her up, please.”

“With pleasure.” The man took a rag out of his shirt and shoved it in your mouth, your muffled cries coming out around it. 

You vaguely heard Willem Dafoe beating the crap out of Sam while he talked about his mission from “god” to kill Sam. Then, the man drew his gun. His partner was unsettled, too, as you strained harder to get out of your binds. 

Suddenly, your saving grace appeared in the doorway. “Dean!” you cried through the gag in your mouth. 

Willem Dafoe turned around and aimed the gun point-blank at Sam’s forehead. 

“Nope. No destiny,” Dean said coolly referring to the man’s earlier comment about god and destiny leading them to Sam. “Just a rabbit's foot.”

“Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall,” the man replied, his tone ice cold.

Dean waved his Taurus around. “Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing,” look-alike-Dafoe responded. 

“Okay.” Dean put his gun down on the nightstand beside him, looking smug. “But you see, there's something about me that you don't know.” Dean smoothly picked up a pen off the nightstand beside the gun. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day,” Dean grinned. He tossed the pen toward Willem Dafoe, and it lodged in the barrel of the gun. ““Oh my God, did you see that shot?!” 

Forgetting all about your current situation, you started yelling through the gag, “You fucking touched it? You fucking idiot!” But all that came out was a muffled garbling of words. 

The man named Creedy lunged at Dean, but missed his punch completely. The man ended up running straight into the wall, and Dafoe was busying himself trying to dislodge the pen from the barrel of his gun. 

“I'm amazing,” Dean said smugly. He picked up the television remote and threw it hard at Dafoe. It hit the man square between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

“I’m Batman,” you heard Dean suavely state, but you were too busy returning your focus to getting your binds undone. Now that the immediate danger was over, your body went back into panic mode. You yelped when you suddenly felt a hand on your back and fought even harder. 

“Hey, hey!” Dean coaxed. “It’s just me.” He saw you weren’t listening, and he immediately set to work cutting the duct tape binding your legs and wrists. Your hands shakily yanked out the rag in your mouth. Only then did you realize Dean was the one in front of you, and you leapt into his arms. 

He caught you easily, one hand around the underside of your back and the other around the topside your legs. You curled up into him and buried your face in his neck. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Dean tried, but your shaking wouldn’t stop. You could feel your sobs slowly subside, but it took quite a while of Dean holding you for you to regain your composure. He pressed kisses into the side of your hair while he held you and tried to soothe you by telling you you were safe. 

You finally uncurled your legs from around Dean and let him put you down. 

Sam came up behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded as you sniffled. 

“What happened?” Sam asked in that very unique-to-him soft voice. 

“I dunno,” you lied. 

Dean gave you a look that let you know he’d be asking more questions later. 

“C’mon, we gotta get the hell outta here,” you said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel the boys giving you questioning looks as you gathered up yours and the boys’ things and stalked out to the car. 

*** “Alright,” Sam began, sprinkling cayenne pepper into the embers of a small fire you and the Winchesters had started in the middle of a cemetery. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it.”

“One second…” Dean said absentmindedly, scratching off the last of his lottery tickets. 

“Dean—” Sam complained. 

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon,” Dean quipped. He stashed the cards in his jacket that he’d slung over a gravestone. “Alright, say goodbye, wascally wabbit.” He dangled the rabbit’s foot over the top of the fire. 

“Hey!” you shouted, whipping out your gun at the sound of a twig cracking. You aimed it at the sound, and Bela emerged from the darkness with hers drawn as well. 

“I think you'll find that belongs to me,” she said firmly. “Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey.”

“Oh, hell no,” you said, cocking your gun. 

Bela cut her eyes at you, shooting Sam in the shoulder.

You exclaimed, “What the—!” and Dean cursed, “Son of a—” as Sam collapsed to the ground. 

“Back off, tiger,” Bela told you. “Back off! You make one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit. But your brother? Him, I can’t miss.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the older brother roared. “You don't just go around shooting people like that!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Relax. It's a shoulder hit; I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

“Alright!” Dean mollified. “Alright. Take it easy.” He moved to drop the rabbit’s foot, but instead, he threw it at Bela. “Think fast,” he smirked. 

Bela caught the foot and immediately realized what she’d done. “Damn!”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Dean smiled in satisfaction. 

Bela sighed, aggravated. She dropped her arm and uncocked her gun, but you kept yours aimed at her as she moved over to the fire. 

“Would you stop pointing that at me?” her smooth voice came without looking at you. 

“Sorry, love. Don’t trust you,” you smiled in fake-politeness. 

She rolled her eyes and moved back to the fire. She dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks very much,” Bela continued. “I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.” 

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?” Dean turned to his brother.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Bela’s gaze hardened. “Hmm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry.” She turned around and moved toward the gravestone where Dean’s jacket laid. You knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Have a nice night, girls,” Bela smirked. 

You glared at her. “Uh, uh! Turn around!” you ordered. 

“What?” she sighed, clearly annoyed. 

“Gimme the tickets,” you commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you do. You can’t con me, angel.”

She grumbled angrily but took the stolen tickets out of her pocket and threw them to the ground. 

“Thanks a million,” you called after her. 

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, woman,” Dean admired, you assumed in reference to the tickets you noticed Bela stole. He came over to you and kissed you boldly. You giggled against his lips, and he held your waist firmly. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey! Bleeding out, here!” 

You broke away from Dean. “Oh, sorry!” you grimaced, moving to head back to the Impala. “C’mon, I’ll get you patched up.”

When you ensured the rabbit’s foot was burnt to a crisp, you and the Winchesters moved to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked his brother. 

“I’ll live,” he responded. 

“I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. And we're up forty-six thousand.” Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, waving the tickets around in the air. 

“Maybe we should hit Vegas, see how good our luck still is,” you suggested, smiling lopsidedly. 

“I like the way you think,” Dean nodded. “Whaddaya say, Sammy?”

“I think you guys are gonna end up blowing all our money on slot machines,” the younger brother dryly commented. 

“Ye of little faith,” you said. “If not Vegas, we can at least get ourselves a nicer motel room. Maybe we can graduate to hotels!”

“Ooh, yeah. One of those hotels with a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah—”

“Guys,” Sam groaned. “Still bleeding out, here.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Yeah,” Billy says after a moment. “I’m not gonna make you do stuff like that. Um, well, like some normal chores and following your curfew and taking your phone with you when you go out, I mean, but not like–um. Yeah.” 

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking into the living room. Billy looks too, but doesn’t see what he’s looking at. His line of sight’s too high to be looking at Tawky, and the TV’s off, and–

Oh. Actually . . . 

Is he looking at the windows, actually? 

Huh, Billy thinks again. 

Lynn stops looking at the windows, or maybe just the living room, and then goes and opens the oven and stares blankly into it for a moment. Then he reaches in bare-handed and–

“Oven mitt!” Billy says quickly, zipping over to him and grabbing a pair of them off the hook they’re hanging on on the way. Lynn stares at him just as blankly as he was staring into the oven, and also just as blankly as he’s been staring at him, and probably he’s thinking Billy is stupid because he’s, like, invulnerable and all, but the thing is–“Secret identity,” he clarifies, and holds the mitts out to Lynn. “You gotta be careful about doing stuff baseline humans can’t, even if you think you’re alone or only around people in the know. And like, you have to make it a habit to do stuff baseline humans would have to anyway, or you might forget to when you aren’t alone. Also Batman didn’t install the new windows yet so I’m not sure if these are privacy ones, honestly, so somebody could maybe see from across the street anyway?” 

Lynn stares at him for another moment, then flicks his eyes down to the oven mitts. Billy feels awkward and kind of like a worrywart, but it is important. He definitely doesn’t turn into Captain Marvel when anybody else even might be watching, and also if Lynn’s keeping those habits from the start it’ll be easier for him in the long run, right? Or at least, Billy thinks it’ll be easier? Like–probably? 

He fidgets a little and tries not to look nervous. Lynn glances at his face for a moment even though his own expression doesn’t change at all, then takes the oven mitts and . . . well, he uses them more like potholders than actually, like, putting them on, but still counts, Billy figures. Lynn takes out all the pans and puts them all on top of the stove, and then closes it and sets aside the oven mitts and turns it off. 

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says more in the oven’s direction than Billy’s. Billy feels a little relieved, because “don’t do stuff baseline humans can’t when it’s not safe to” is a pretty important thing, so far as secret IDs and all go. 

“Sure!” Billy says, then peeks curiously at the food. “So, um . . . is it done?” 

“. . . it has to rest for five minutes,” Lynn says, and then turns away abruptly and walks into the living room to bring back the plates, which is, um, probably something Billy should’ve remembered was gonna need to happen before he took them out there, come to think. 

Whoops. 

Well, he guesses they could use serving dishes, probably, because Batman bought them way too much everything and there are so, so many serving dishes, but that’s more dishes to wash so yeah, Lynn’s definitely taking the right approach here, Billy decides. 

Though he has no idea why dinner has to rest. Like–what does that even mean, “rest”? It’s food. 

“. . . why?” Lynn asks, and holds up Tawky’s little plate with a faint frown. 

“Oh, Tawky doesn’t need as much to eat as you do,” Billy clarifies. Tawky only needs a lot to eat when he’s being a full-sized tiger, and he’s being an stuffed animal the same way Billy’s being a dad right now instead of just Captain Marvel, so he won’t have the stomach space for big meals until, like, the next time they have to save the world, probably. Or a mission. Or something like that, anyway. “Or as much to eat as you probably do, since we’re still figuring that out. But probably not, either way. Like–I don’t need to eat either, I mean, but like, different-sized stomachs and all, sooo . . . bigger plate, I guess. Sorry, is that rude, do you think? I wasn’t trying to be.” 

“. . . uh,” Lynn says slowly, frowning at Tawky’s plate instead. “Okay.” 

Well, it’s not exactly an answer, but Billy guesses he can double-check with Tawky later. It’s kind of more important what Tawky thinks anyway, since it’s him he’d be being rude to, and also he really shouldn’t be expecting Lynn to really get, like, manners and intent versus affect and that kind of thing yet anyway. Although either way having a full-sized tiger in the apartment would definitely not be great for the secret identity thing, even just for mealtimes, so they’d have to figure something out there. 

Well, he guesses they could just go to the Rock of Eternity for dinner, actually? Like, cook in the apartment but pack themselves dinner-picnics or something. Actually, that sounds kinda fun, he’d like to show Lynn what it’s like and maybe explain a little more about what accepting a share of his powers would mean, if he did, and– 

Focus. He definitely needs to work on his focus. That’s way more important when he’s being a dad. He doesn’t want Lynn to ever think he’s ignoring him, for one. 

“I’ll ask him later,” Billy says. Tawky’s probably still reading anyway; he was while Billy was setting the coffee table. He had the biography of Nikola Tesla they’d picked out, which is pretty normal reading fare for Tawky, really. He likes nonfiction a lot, especially the historical stuff. Billy doesn’t really get it, personally.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

*shaking cup* freebie? Freebie for the poor? (Your writing is great and I hope you're doing okay :))

"He saved my life" was the magic sentence. Ordinarily, Erik might have taken it personally having a human pull a shot gun on him but- context mattered.

Your elderly grandfather had no way of knowing WHY he was with you. Or how he knew you. Not until you explained what happened. Still. It took... restraint.

It was... curious though. Seeing this part of your life. The fear and the pride on their faces when they hugged you to them- relieved to see you alive still. "Come on son," your grandfather said. "We'll load the car. Let the girls get supper on the table." And he followed- not sure what else to do.

"Be nice," you call.

"I'm always nice," your Grandfather called back, "it's the General you gotta worry about."

Erik smiled just a little as the old man popped your trunk open and shook his head at the chaos, "You'd think she lives in here, good grief."

"She does, for the most part," Erik snorted, "long hours. And she never knows what she's going to need."

Paul shook his head and hefted a box into place, "You have questions, don't you, son?"

Erik regarded him for a moment. There was a tense moment in the beginning. But... after that, he'd been treated like a friend. Like you'd just dragged any other misfit home. "Why does she do this?" he asked.

The other man adjusted his glasses and glanced towards the door. Erik can see him weighing what to say. Not looking for a lie, but looking for a way to tell the truth that respects your dignity. He can feel an ugly story coming, the way he can feel violence. "Because," Paul said, shoulders sagging, "when she looks at those children, she sees a best friend she couldn't help. Because by the time she knew what happened it was too late." He pushed himself off the side of your car and went to his tool chest, pulling a drawer open and extracting a framed picture.

It's old. You're there with another little girl. He's know you anywhere- it's the eyes. And the smile. You have your arms around each other. Beaming on the beach. "Allie's parents just... disappeared her. She was scared. Afraid no one would help her. And by the time Y/N managed to track her down again- it- she was dead. Someone just beat her to death."

Erik looked at the man in front of him and tried to keep control of his temper. It's not his fault.

"Y/N was so angry," Paul said, shaking his head. "To this day, I don't think she believes in god... For years we thought she was going to kill herself trying just to numb the pain. Pills mostly. Parties. But... one day she just dropped out of sight. Just was gone. We got phone calls and emails sometimes. She sounded good. just busy. Distracted."

Paul smiled ruefully, "We figured she was on a bender and tracked her down. We were gonna haul her little ass to rehab so help us god- and we found her handing out blankets and food to homeless mutant kids, telling a bunch of bigots to- well. You've met her."

Erik chuckled, "Yes, I'm familiar with her vocabulary." He handed Paul the photo back and studied him, "They're still looking for her."

"I figured." He exhaled slowly. "I don't want to have to bury my granddaughter. But, we know- she may not believe in God but, he'll hold her in his hands anyway."

"Paul-"

"If anything happens," he said, putting the photo away, "we're going to lay her next to Allie. We learned a long time ago to hope for the best and plan for the worst. My girl can work miracles but she can't stop bullets."

[angelsuecult]

a lonely night | s. crosby ff

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight—shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.