#does that mean there’s hope that we’ll be something more again one of these days?

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging. 

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan. 

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes. 

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code. 

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates. 

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope. 

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing. 

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches. 

life is so cruel sometimes. 

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together. 

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed. 

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him. 

we need to talk. is all you send him. 

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers. 

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead. 

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this. 

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding. 

“okay,” you huff. 

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly. 

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case. 

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded. 

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised. 

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad. 

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse. 

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief. 

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings. 

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits. 

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans. 

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever. 

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants. 

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes. 

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips. 

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently. 

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own. 

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer. 

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be. 

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat. 

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen. 

how considerate of you both. 

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes. 

woefully, they both agree to split the check. 

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

[cozage]

Omg I hope it’s not too late! Happy 2K yayayayay it’s been really fun watching you grow 😭. I remember when your blog was pretty new and I asked you for advice on how to make my own and you said try not to make a 2nd blog. I was wondering if I could have option 1 with a S/O who dated the monster trio but they broke up so now they are trying to win their heart back.

A/N: still my greatest regret is making this a secondary blog but it all worked out! Hope you are doing well :) thanks for being along for the ride.  Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Total word count: 1k

Get You Back

Luffy

Luffy tries his best to move on because he thinks that's what you want.  Even though he hates going to bed alone and not sitting next to you at dinner, he tries to get over it. 

At first he acts like nothing happened. He still runs to tell you stuff as soon as he finds out something, and he always wants to take you on adventures. Sure, you broke up, but you’re still nakama, right?

Nami explains to him that you need some time before things will go back to a sense of normal, and Luffy agrees to give you space. But god, he hates it. He’s so lonely.

One night, he can’t take it anymore. He knows it’s your night to keep watch, and he joins you in the crow’s nest. He knows he should let you be, but he has to try one more thing. 

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?” he asked, looking out over the stars. 

“I’ve already forgiven you, Luffy.” Your voice is sad, and he knows that you’ve been lonely too. 

He turns to look at you, eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest. “Do you think we’ll ever be together again?”

“I-” you stop, captivated by his wide, hopeful eyes. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. 

“I miss you,” he admitted. “I miss you so much. I hate going to bed and I hate not being around you during the day. I hate when I find a cool bug and I can’t show it to you, or when we visit an island and you don’t join me on an adventure. I just want things to be normal again. I’ll do anything, please.”

“I want to be with you, Luffy,” you said. “I just-”

He lunged for you, his lips attacking you with desperation and eagerness. You can feel his words turning into actions; you can feel how much he has longed to kiss you and touch your skin again. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll work out this time. 

Zoro

Zoro didn’t think you were serious when you said it was over. So, when he went into his room and couldn’t find any of your things, he was confused. 

He sought you out, curious. “Hey, where’s your stuff?” 

But you just rolled your eyes. “Get it through your brain Zoro. Unlike you, I say what I mean. We’re over.”

Oh. That last fight had been a breakup fight. Now he understood. 

But he saw the pain in your eyes. He knew you didn’t want this outcome. So he’d just have to prove that he was worthy of you 

He doesn’t beg for you back, but he keeps his word with everything he does. 

When you ask him to do something, he does it. Hell, even if the cook asks him to do something, he does it without complaint (especially if you’re in the room). He always keeps his word. Always. 

Part of him acts like nothing happened. He still shares booze with you, naps near you, laughs with you. But he won’t ask for you back. Even if its the only thing he wants.

After about a month, he’s had enough. It’s just the two of you on the ship, watching the Sunny as the others run off to the island. 

“When are we going to go back to normal?” he demands, storming up to you. “Don’t you think we’ve been apart for too long?”

“I told you, Zoro-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice was gruff as he pushed you up against the wall and pinned you there with his own body. “Please, don’t say it.”

“We’re bad for each other,” you whispered, trying to ignore the mess of emotions you were feeling at the moment.

“We’re not,” he argued. “I swear we’re not. Let me prove it.” His lips hover over your mouth, waiting for permission. “Please, let me prove it.”

“One more cha-” His lips crash into yours, and you find yourself melting into the touch you had missed so much over the past few weeks. 

Sanji

This man is the best at apologies. He knows no shame and smothers you in love. 

Every morning, you get an immaculate breakfast. Your snacks and desserts are the ones he knows you adore. You are pampered beyond your wildest imagination (which is impressive after dating Sanji for so long. You thought you had seen it all.)

Fresh flowers at your bedside every morning (where is he getting all of these flowers??). Rose petals lead to your bedroom at night. You’d think you were on a honeymoon.

It’s almost annoying. It’s almost too much. But Sanji knows when he’s starting to become annoying, and he’ll let up slightly, just long enough for you to calm down. And then he’ll start back up again. 

The biggest thing for you though, is the next time you go onto an island. 

His eyes stay on you. They hardly even linger as he walks with you, Nami, and Usopp through the shopping district. 

If any pretty ladies walk by, he doesn’t even bother to look. He’s so captivated by you that he doesn’t even notice anyone else. 

While your back is turned or while you’re shopping, he doesn’t even gawk at any islanders (Nami and Usopp watch him for ANY hint of flirtation. There is NONE.)

He only vanishes for a brief moment in a jewelry store, coming back with a little bag of his own. “Cufflinks,” he explains. “My other ones broke.”

When you all get back to the ship, he pulls you aside and gives you a bracelet full of aquamarine stones that reminds you of his eyes. 

“Please, be mine again,” he begs, holding the box out. “It hurt to breathe without you. I need you. Please.”

“Sanji,” you breathe out. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispers. “Y/N, I’m so-”

You jump into his arms, pushing your lips against his. You missed that sweet taste of vanilla that was always on his tongue, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t ever have to go without it again.

[harrysfolklore]

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[littlespoonevan]

I’m just so stuck!!!! on Buck’s reaction to the kiss because it’s like, he’s a little bit caught off guard but also a little bit swept off his feet almost???? And it’s such a contrast to the moments with Taylor and Natalia where they come back for him because Buck was still the pursuer in both of those situations, they were reacting to him

Whereas in this scene he so clearly doesn’t expect any of it even as he’s trying put the pieces together during their conversation. And honestly I feel like the last time we really saw Buck like this was with Abby because even though he was the one pursuing then too, his feelings for her took him completely by surprise. Like, it was the first time he experienced what it could mean to fall in love and he had that thought of “oh I could have this if I want it”

And that’s not to say he’s in love with Tommy or even that any of this is about Tommy at all but it’s once again a moment where Buck is offered something and that thought comes back of “oh I could have this if I want it.” He could be with a man if he wants to and maybe he does want to

And it’s just!!!!!! So much!!!!!! To see what this might mean for not only his romantic arc but also for him himself!!! How this will change him and make him feel more at ease within himself like he’s so desperately been trying to do these past few seasons

And y’know one day we’ll hopefully get the culmination where it’s the right love and the right person and god that’ll be one for the books but for right now, seeing him look so nervous and excited and hopeful at this part of himself he never maybe let himself consider before has honestly shaken me to my core I’ve never felt this happy for a character before???????

[bloodycassian]

Reborn - Reader x Azriel. AN - thank you anon for this great prompt!

Requested - I don't know if your requests are open but I wanted to throw something in just in case.

An Azriel x reader, where AZ and reader have never met before, reader has been tortured and experimented on by the court of nightmares ( Keir ) she could be a shadowsinger, and they're mates, when the reader is in the verge of death for refusing to work with Keir, AZ feels it and begins to grow hectic without knowing the reason,  everyone in the inner court is confused until elain comes out of nowhere and tells everyone that his mate is in danger. ( Vision )

I have this on the back of my mind since reading some of your amazing work and couldn't stop thinking about it.

No amount of masturbation, drinking, or sparring helps the agitation under Azriel’s skin. It’s a constant, burning, itching thing that’s like a fucking disease upon his being. 

Sleep is his only relief, but even then he’s plagued with pain and darkness. It reminds him too much of the dank basement he’d been forced into when he was young, so he stays up. He’s exhausted and brooding and quick to snap at anyone who questions him. He knows he’s being a dick but according to the five healers he’d seen, there was nothing wrong. 

Nothing wrong, just like how his shadows weren’t some kind of magic, according to them. 

He’d refused to believe in healers all that much since the explanation Madja had given him about his diseased pets. The writhing, tentacles of night were a ‘bodily mutation of the highest level, tainted with fae magic’. Tainted. The word felt right for what they were, but that didn’t mean it stung any less. 

“We’ll invade here, and be able to plant our…” There was a beat of silence in Amren’s quick words, then her voice cut through his busybodied task like a knife “Azriel, are you even listening?” 

Truthfully, he hadn’t been. He’d been consumed by the ache again, the broiling sickness beneath his skin that had every muscle flexed in tension. His mind had other battles to fight. 

“What does it matter? You’ll carry out your plan with or without me. Keep talking, make yourself feel important, Amren.” His ill-tempered response came quick and laced with venom. One glance towards the small not-quite-fae female and his mind gave a twinge of regret. 

A lick of her power radiated, filling the room with something vibrant and undeniable. Cassian sucked in a breath, and a word from Rhys had her firey gaze snapping to him instead. “Take your dog from the important business then, High Lord.” Her words were precise, hissed. 

Azriel straightened. The insult didn’t land as well as Amren had wanted, in part because he couldn’t care less, another because the fire under his skin was reaching a peak that he had no idea how he survived every time it came around. He glanced to Rhys, who gave him a nod. Good. Let him free of this cage. 

He flung open the balcony doors with his cursed gift and sprinted off the ledge, launching himself into the summer air. 

+

Rats nibbled at your toes when you slept, scurrying away before you could catch them. Your senses weren’t even close to what they had been months ago. Before, you’d been able to catch at least two a week for extra sustenance. 

You told yourself that they’d learned, that they’d gotten quicker at their biting and fleeing. Truthfully, you could feel your strength waning every day. 

Living was no longer hope, and more of an inconvenience. 

But it was an inconvenience to Kier as well. And that meant you’d keep on living out of spite. 

The next female would appreciate it. 

“Arms up, legs together.” The order came with unnatural casualness that you’d grown used to. If you didn’t follow the orders, you were beaten until you either complied or were unconscious, so complying was really the only option. Especially when you were attempting to stay alive for as long as you could. 

It’s for the next girl. You chanted to yourself when the keeper made the injection. It stung like hundreds of bees attacking the same place, but the pain was familiar. A friend you welcomed before everything went sideways and the nausea rolled in. 

The drug Kier’s men gave was like none you’d experienced outside this cell. An incredible high, with a disastrous low. 

You convulsed on the floor moments later, your body still barely able to take the amount they dosed you with. You’d seen the liquid inside the damn thing grow each week, they were marking your progress with every one of them. So, with each dosing you made sure to put on some dramatics for them. 

The clawing at the throat was false, the sound of your screams only half-forced. The real, unforced reaction though, was always the shade of pallor your skin turned after every injection. The darkness that radiated from you like a bubble, the pain made physical. 

It hovered over your skin like an aura, tendrils of it washing over your forehead when the sweating started. It always started like this, for the first few hours - or possibly minutes, you weren’t sure once you were lost to the pain - they’d observe, and sometimes Kier himself would join, looking like a disappointed mother. Then, once the shaking subsided, and you were able to breathe normally, they’d release a rabbit into your cell. 

The same rabbit almost every damn time. After the first two weeks, you’d grabbed the first one and snapped it’s neck, hoping that Kier would be happy with the accomplishment and you’d earn something. You’d felt awful as it died in your hands, but the pain… if it stopped the pain, you’d kill anything. 

But time after time, they’d send in another rabbit, and though you begged for some kind of explanation of what they wished with the damn thing, they’d only observe. After a few hours of investigating, it’d eventually be removed and you’d wake up alone again.

Kier did not make an appearance today, and after your shaking stopped, neither did a rabbit.

“Where’s dinner?” You croaked, the tears stinging small cuts on your cheeks. Your friend never laughed or spoke, hardly even moved when he was in the vicinity of your cell. It was odd, even for a freak who enjoyed drugging and torturing others.

The male only stared, writing in his little notebook. He could at least humor you and tell you what he was so keenly logging. Some friend.

He opened the door, but instead of the rabbit jumping inside, he stepped forward, past the barrier and wards keeping you from breaking through. Your breathing halted. 

“Your reluctance to learn your gifts has given us no other option.”

+

“Did you lose a fight?” 

Nesta’s words normally bounced and slid right off Azriel, but with how volatile he was feeling, it took all his restraint not to snarl at her.

“Come on Az, where’s that quick wit?” She chided, crossing her legs at the knee beside her sister. 

His eyes drifted to Elain, the warm blush of her cheeks. Her lavender nightshirt made her seem so much more vulnerable than she was. He knew just how lethal the female could be, and admired her for it. His eyes drifted to the soft hair and round features that he’d once dreamt of. How foolish he’d been, how full of hope and bitterness. Now here he was, merely a ghost. A shell for pain to be housed in and nothing more. 

And here he stared at a garden of hope and light. The female who’d haunted his dreams for years. The opposite of the steel bitch that sat beside her. 

A pang of guilt pinched at him. “You’re ridiculous.” Was all he could muster at her. Nesta was trying to help, in her own way, he supposed. She was testing his limits and temper, even while balancing comforting words and attempting to heal her little sister’s mental wounds. Not to mention navigating the strange, untrained gift of Elain’s.

It wasn’t often that Azriel came to the house of wind proper. When he did, he usually confined himself to the dining area and the war room, where the formal dinners and meetings were held. He hadn’t walked the halls into the large internal library in a long, long while. No wonder they both had turned their chairs to face him when he’d cracked the door to find them both here. 

The large windows seemed crowded with the amount of books that surrounded them. The only source of light, aside from the twinkling magic fueled ones above. The room had always made Azriel feel claustrophobic, and now it set him on edge in a way different than it had before. 

Especially when Elain’s eyes bored into his own. His skin felt like it was shifting, pulling and pushing from just beneath. He was beginning to wonder if the healers had somehow missed a parasite of some kind. Something new perhaps, something they’d never seen before.

Elain’s eyes widened, her cheeks going from the pink blush to sickly pale in an instant. Her expression was unfocused, hazy - as if she were drunk. Azriel suddenly felt like he was intruding, like seeing her so vulnerable was something reserved for only those close to her. 

Nesta placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed her sister’s back comfortingly. It was about as tender as Azriel had ever seen her, even with Cassian. He watched the hands that rubbed the Seer, recalling the intense desire he’d once felt for her. Embarrassment coated his cheeks, distracting him from the physical pain for a moment.

He’d wanted to be that support for her, once. Nesta’s hand seemed to grow in his vision, the embroidered collar of Elain’s nightshirt with it. He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. The blackness around his eyes did not recede though. His bones ached, and his headache stabbed at him like a branding iron. He rubbed his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“She needs help.” Elain gasped, coughing on a breath. Azriel wavered on his heels, something hard hitting his back, crushing his wings. 

He could barely hear the high strung sound of Elain’s voice. “She needs help, Azriel!”

+

He tore though the court, dragging Kier kicking and frothing with him. He’d received a few severe wounds from the cruel male, but nothing that a few patches of his siphons couldn’t hold together. 

The gushing stab wounds could wait. He had something far more important to tend to.

“You’re a bastard, a low-born inconsequential bastard, Shadowsinger.” Kier coughed as Azriel dragged his broken body with him. The crowd pushed and writhed around them, but his outstretched dagger kept any of the patrons from advancing. Several dark looks, hisses of death closed in around him, but he plowed through them all, working his way to the catacombs behind the stone chair that served as Rhys’s dark throne. 

“I may be a bastard-” Azriel grunted through his pain, now more fevored and intense than before. It was a wonder he’d even been able to make it here, but it did explain his sloppy handling of Kier once he’d found the male. 

“But at least I didn’t sell a daughter off as stock.” He tossed the would-be-king to the locked door of the catacombs, a part of him enjoyed the thunk his head made against the stone floor, even through the intense agony that ripped through him. 

This was not the place to show weakness. If he let his shadows drop, let the air of anything but a cold hearted killer go for even a moment he’d be trampled by the crowd. 

Kier rose slowly, muttering curses while he pulled out a key and slid the door to the side. He sketched a bow, waving Azriel in. Spit landed at Azriels feet as he crossed the threshold, and he hesitated in his step. A hiss rang out behind him, shuffling feet a song as the crowd quickly scooted back. He held his stance there for a moment, collecting the wrath that built in him. It writhed and twisted in his mind, his guts, his teeth throbbing with the urge to tare out Kier’s throat. 

The blistering heat flared again, this time in his jaw and he moved down the hall, towards the cells that an unfortunate assistant to Kier had described. 

He’d made their death quick, painless. 

+

You couldn’t scream, could hardly breathe with the weight that seemed to be growing in your chest. 

Not weight exactly, more like pressure. Internal pressure, like there was lava built up inside you with nowhere to go. And every rattling breath seemed to give it more life. You wheezed, weak with the exhaustion of fighting it. 

Your friend had given you three more of the injections, and promptly left when you began struggling against the binds at your hands and feet. One of them had ripped, you only knew because that was the hand that you’d used to claw at your chest with. 

The blood made going any further too slippery and exhausting.

There were far away sounds, but it all seemed too strange, so disjointed to be real. Screams and sharp clangs of metal, breaking glass and thudding. 

Your eyes slipped closed, and relief washed over you. The pressure eased, and the squeaky hinges of the door opened. Had death finally come? Was this the end of your cycle, and now they were bringing in a new victim to Kier’s experiments? 

There wasn’t much of a goodbye to the world, though. As sad as it was to not be able to see your family again, you were just grateful that the pain was receding. That finally there’d be no injections, no innocent rabbit and certainly no Kier around. 

The sounds were strange, a choking, strangled sound like the first time you’d killed the rabbit. Your eyes cracked open almost involuntarily to see what had happened. 

Outside your cell in a glow of blue light was a winged male, his hand wrist deep inside your friend’s chest. 

+

Blood is hotter than most people think it is. Azriel takes joy in it though, when it’s the blood of the truly vile ones. The male with the syringes and log book reeked of something spiced and foreign, something Azriel’d never encountered before. He would have asked, would have talked to the male if he’d not pulled a knife and threatened to ‘kill her’ as he backed away. 

There were no thoughts after that. And as he fell to the floor, Azriel reveled in the male’s labored breathing. Relief and heat flooded him, prickling him with a soaring joy he’d thought abandoned him long ago. He could laugh, if it weren’t for the absurdity of how it sounded to laugh at this moment.

 He plucked the book from his hands and shoved it into his belt behind him, his chest thrumming with joy.

He’d never been so filled with glee before, so overwhelmed with it after killing… Had he become broken in a sick way? Was he no better than the male he’d just killed? He looked to his hand, twisting it in the low light of his siphons. 

A wet, weak cough echoed off the walls and he spun, knife ready. 

Then the blade was on the floor as he rushed to the bars of the cell door, ripping it free of the rusted hinges. 

The female was gaunt, and frail. Yet his chest sang and though she looked moments from death, he couldn’t imagine more beauty. 

She clutched her chest, the blood there crusted and dry. “Thanks.” She croaked, voice barely a whisper. Shadows mounted around him, enclosing them in complete black. He would have thought he was winnowing if it weren't for the sorry excuse for a bed that stayed beneath her.

Azriel’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying, even to his own ears. His mind, his body was a rushing river of every emotion at once, all cascading through his mind, to his chest and thrumming in his blood. Her eyes went wide and wild, searching his for a moment. His heart thundered in his ears.

What had his life been until now? Why was this moment such a climax to him so suddenly? All of it, the pain the agony, the stark moments of joy against it all - the brief moments of shared happiness that made it all worth it tore through his body like a flash floor. 

Tears pricked his eyes, and it was a curious thing to see them fall onto her neck and wash away the blood there. 

Then, a wet sigh from her lips, and her eyes stopped searching his. The rush of joy and sense of sanctuary ceased. His blood went quiet in his ears, and the room felt suddenly cold. The room silent around him, not even his shadows dared whisper.

His fingers hesitated over her cheek. When her next breath did not come, he shook her gently. Her eyes remained, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

This was truly a tomb now. 

“No…” He heard his own words that time. The word clattered through the cell like a bell tolling, echoing.

“Take her back.” A shadow hissed over his ear, caressing. 

He shook her again, the tears boiling over now, panic gripping him. 

“We know how.” another said. This voice was different, the same whispered tone and suggestion, but this was not one of his pets. He sent his own shadows skittering away, and a group of them stayed, unbound to him and unmoving from the cell. His heart skipped, fear upon fear pulling him into the icy abyss of despair. 

His own shadows returned, a broken syringe floating to him on their behest. They mingled with the others, reveling and dancing together though Azriel felt that he was slowly sinking.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!” He shouted at them, at nothing. He had truly lost his mind, hadn’t he?

“Save her.” The strange shadows told him. Just like Elain had said, overtaken by her visions.

 A tendril of the foreign shadow wrapped around his hand, locking the glass pieces there and slicing into his palm. The needle aimed directly to her chest, between the ribs, only a few inches from the heart. 

And what did he have to lose? The silence that surrounded him now was almost worse than the pain had been. Wouldn't pain at least be better than complete nothingness? To feel completely blank and unwritten as a being?

With a breath, and a part of his siphon’s power to support the broken syringe, he pushed into her skin. His own blood dribbled down the sides, mixing with hers. Through and through - until he knew that he’d met the same depth of a killing blow to an opponent’s heart. 

+

“Side, block, strike.” Cassian’s orders came out in demanding, practiced tones. Each step, each swipe of your blade met with one of Azriel’s shadows as a shield. 

His were still much, much stronger than yours, even after months of practice with them. Even with him showing you very intimately just how much they were capable of. Your cheeks blushed at the reminder of that. 

“No distractions, keep that shadow talk in the bedroom, Az.” Cassian scolded.

A smirk played at your mate’s face, and he hit you with a surprise swipe at your feet, left unprotected by your own shadows. 

You fell on your ass, cursing. 

Azriel offered a hand, panting at the exertion the sparring had taken. You were proud of that, at least. 

The first six months of training had been dedicated to building stamina, gaining back weight and muscle while balancing training your shadows to obey you. Six months ago, being able to spar with your mate had seemed like a far off dream that you’d never be capable of doing. 

But with his training, and Cassian’s encouragement, you were almost able to take him on stride for stride. Almost. 

So, you took his hand and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Then knocked his knees out from behind with a wave of your own shadows.

You smirked, and offered him a hand while Cassian boomed with laughter.

He allowed you to help him up, but cleaned in close, pecking a kiss on your cheek. 

“You’ll pay for that later.” He said in an intimate tone. A lick of his shadow wrapped around your thigh, snaking upwards. 

“Promise?” Your eyes sparkled at him, and the pain all those months ago had been worth it for this. 

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

After sandwiches, Nancy turns to El. “Could you look for Barb again?”

El sets her mouth and nods. She glances at Steve, who also nods and moves to set up the living room again.

Eddie follows him in and picks up the blindfold. Steve doesn’t try to hide his smirk. “You’ve got questions, I’m guessing?”

Eddie shrugs, leans against the couch. Watches the fabric as he pulls it through his fingers. Right hand, left hand. Right, left. “Mostly thinking I was wrong about you. Even more than I initially thought.”

Steve smiles. “We never got to have this conversation in the future, but I do know what your bandana means.” He stops for a second, watches Eddie’s hands. Right, left. “I’m offering… not an olive branch, per se, but…”

“An invitation?” Right, left.

“Exactly.” He shrugs. “If there’s anything you want to know…” he trails off, lets it hang in the air.

Eddie smiles. “Just one thing.” He holds it up in his left hand. “Who d’you use it on?”

Steve grins and turns away, looking for the remote. “Myself.” His smile falls. “Or- I did. You heard about the Russians, right?”

Eddie steps up beside him. Offers him the blindfold. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d say if I could go back in time, but…” he gestures around with a grin, letting it widen when Eddie chuckles. “Turns out going back in time does nothing for the memories I already have.”

Eddie frowns. “Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Your body reverted back to its sixteen-year-old self, but your brain is still twenty.”

“I mean, imagine me coming to school one day looking like this, and the next I come in with scars, looking half a decade older. People would talk.”

Eddie hums. “You’re probably right. Still, it can’t be easy, having those mental reminders with none of the physical.”

Steve grins at him. “Did you miss the part where I don’t have concussions?”

Eddie snorts. “Fair enough. Still, I bet the scars looked badass.”

“Very metal,” Steve agrees. “Y’know, if you’d survived? We woulda had matching scars.” He trails a hand down his side. “The bats ripped us both open. Woulda gotten me if you, Robin and Nance hadn’t gotten there when you did. You took on a bat with nothing but an oar from a rowboat.” He turns to look at Eddie. “You told me once, how you’re a coward. How you run.” He shakes his head, looks away. “You didn’t. Not when it mattered. And you won’t this time.”

“Maybe this time we’ll have matching not-scars,” Eddie says, then points at Steve. “And no concussions.”

“And no concussions,” Steve parrots, laughing. “If we have to deal with the Russians again, though? I’m definitely doing something different.”

“We,” Eddie murmurs, shrugging when Steve looks at him. “We’ll do something different. You think any of these kids are gonna leave you alone after this? You think Eleven will leave you alone?”

“I hope not,” Steve answers honestly. “And you? You’re staying?”

Eddie shrugs again. “You said I didn’t run when it mattered. Who’s to say this doesn’t matter just as much? I’m not running.”

Steve smiles softly at him. “You’re a good man, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie levels him with a look. “I sell weed, Steve.”

Steve snorts. “I’m well aware, dude, I’ve bought from you before. If all goes well, I’m planning on buying another.”

Eddie laughs. “Hell, man, if it all goes well, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”

Steve winks. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, then leaves Eddie to process while he goes to get El.

Of course wherever El goes, Mike’s not far behind, which means he, Dustin and Lucas follow, and of course Nancy follows, and since everyone else is already in there, Jonathan and Robin follow too, so they all end up crammed in the living room again, with bated breaths and tightly-held hands, as El settles in front of the TV and puts the blindfold on.

Finally, she speaks. “I see her. She is alive.”

Nancy slumps into the couch and lets out a breath.

Then El speaks again. “She does not have very long.”

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[in1-nutshell]

I know request are closed so just add this to the bottom of the list for whenever you see it.

TFP Megatron's daughter with MTMTE Megatron.

this feels like the kinda thing that would hurt him, knowing that in one universe he was lucky enough to have a daughter as smart and kind as buddy and he hurt her.

have a nice day hope you drink water

This is a pair that I have thought about if they ever met. Buddy is now going to have to meet another Megatron. But don't worry she's not alone!

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality meeting MTMTE Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Familial, slight angst, Cybertronain reader

TFP/MTMTE

In MTMTE…

Brainstorm was bored.

So, he started to work on one of the projects he had been putting off for a while.

A dimension to an alternate universe, even different than theirs!

He was just about to turn it on when Perceptor came in.

“Brainstorm have you seen Nautica? I have her data—what in Primus’s name are you doing?!”--Perceptor

Brainstorm hanging upside down trying to reach a button to turn on the machine that was slightly smoking.

“Oh! Percy! You’re just in time! I was going to push the button—”--Brainstorm

Perceptor trying to reach Brainstorm.

“There will be no pushing—”--Perceptor

Brainstorm pushes the button.

“BOOP!”—Brainstorm

Machine starts whirling up.

“It’s working!”--Brainstorm

In TFP…

Buddy was walking with Miko on her shoulder.

They had gone to go get some arts and crafts from one of the empty rooms in the base.

Something about a human holiday coming up.

When the portal opened.

“OH, PRIMUS NOT AGAIN!”--Buddy

Buddy dropping the boxes trying to grab Miko and something else to not go into the portal.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN?!”--Miko

“EXPLAIN LATER! BULKHEAD! OPTIMUS! ULTRA MAGNUS! RATCHET!”--Buddy

Miko slips through Buddy’s grip.

“BUDDY!”--Miko

Buddy jumps at Miko, covering her entire body as they both get swallowed by the portal.

In MTMTE…

Brainstorm was wrestling with Perceptor when two figures came out of the portal.

The portal shut leaving the machine slightly smoking.

There was no way anyone was going to turn that thing on and not have it potentially exploding in their faces.

Miko groaning a bit t the rough landing.

She is on a lab table.

Buddy is hanging upside down tangled up in a bunch of wires.

“Oh! Hello!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm lightly pokes Miko who just looks at these two new bots.

“Hey! Leave her alone!”--Buddy

Buddy is struggling to get out of the wires to get to Miko.

“Relax!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm presses a button to release the wires.

Buddy falls face first on the floor.

Brainstorm, Miko, and Perceptor wince hearing the sudden noise.

Perceptor helps Buddy up.

“My apologies. I know you two may have some questions in where—”--Perceptor

“We’re a different universe or dimension.”--Buddy

Brainstorm’s wings go up.

“Have you done that before?!”--Brainstorm

“Against my will, yes. This is Miko’s first time.”--Buddy

“Who are you guys?”--Miko

“My name is Brainstorm! I’m actually the mech who brought you two here with my machine. This is my partner Perceptor! Don’t mind him, he’s more of a mood killer.”--Brainstorm

Percepor sends him a glare.

“So, you’re the bot who brought us here? What about getting us back?”--Buddy

“Haven’t gotten to that part yet, but eventually we’ll get there!”--Brainstorm

Perceptor offers his servo for Miko to climb on.

She does and gets passed to Buddy.

Buddy refuses to let her down on the ground.

The two scientists briefly explain where the pair had ended up as they go to the med bay for any internal injuries.

Ratchet nearly has a stroke seeing a human and new bot in the med bay.

Buddy and Miko know immediately who Ratchet is. He isn’t too far from the Ratchet they were used to.

Brainstorm and Perceptor had to leave the pair with Ratchet while they went back to the lab to see if the machine was all right after a warning alert came online.

After explaining how the pair got there and nearly putting Ratchet in cardiac arrest, they get a clean bill of health.

“Hey Ratchet. Brainstorm and Percy over there said the war was over in this universe. Is that true?”--Miko

“Yes. Thankfully its been over for a bit. Has…”-Ratchet

“Our’s isn’t over yet…”--Buddy

Ratchet gives them an sympathetic smile.

Someone slams the door open.

Buddy grabs Miko and keeps her close to her chassis.

“Hey Doc-bot! I need you to settle an argue—”--Whirl

Whirl looks at Buddy and Miko.

“…”--Everyone

Whirl looks at Ratchet.

“Brainstorm?”--Whirl

“Brainstorm.”--Ratchet

Whirl steps closer slightly menacing to the pair.

Buddy straightens up, and tightens grip on Miko.

“So what do we have here? Another minibot and a fleshy.”--Whirl

“If you call me fleshy, can I call you a computer?”--Miko

Buddy wants to scream at Miko for trying to antagonize the larger mech.

Whirl blinks and steps closer.

Buddy glares at him hard.

Don’t. touch. Her.”--Buddy

“…All right! I have to give it to you both. Steal bearings.”--Whirl

Whirl scoops both Buddy and Miko up to his chassis.

“I’ll give you two the Lost Light tour with all the helpful commentary.”--Whirl

Buddy looks over at Ratchet who looks very tired but gives a ‘Your-safe-with-him’ smile.

Buddy can only hope so.

By the time Whirl gets to Swerve, Miko and him have already made a blood pact and have several ideas on overthrowing those who have wronged them.

Whirl swears he has found his Amica from another dimension.

Buddy is just trying to take everything in while also accessing any and all dangers onboard this ship.

It was much bigger than anything she had ever seen back home.

Even bigger than the Nemesis.

“—Then Megs and him nearly—”--Whirl

Buddy turns to him so fast he thinks she might have broken her neck cables.

“Megs? As in Megatron? He is here? On this ship!?”--Buddy

“Yeah? Oh yeah you two mentioned something about your war still going on.”--Whirl

“Yeah.”--Miko

“How come you two haven’t talked about it?”--Whirl

“Its better to tell a whole group so we don’t have to go through the whole story again and again.”--Buddy

“Kinda like your name?”--Miko

Buddy sighing heavily.

“Yep.”--Buddy

“Wait what is your designation, Tiny?”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Buddy

Whirl stops momentarily.

“Buddy? What kind of name is that? Did your Caregivers want you to get picked on?”--Whirl

Buddy winces a bit while Miko flicks his armor a bit.

“Oh! Soft spot. Got it, but you might as well tell now before anyone else knows.”--Whirl

Buddy gives him a dead glare.

“All right, all right, no spoilers.”--Whirl

“But back to Megatron—”--Buddy

“Hey look we’re here.”--Whirl

It was after hours, meaning not many mechs were in.

Just most of the mech whirl associated himself with.

As usual, Whirl made his grand entrance in the bar.

Not many bots paid attention to him thinking he was just being Whirl.

Buddy’s anxiety was going up seeing all the energon out.

She worried for Miko’s safety and kept her close.

Miko didn’t object to the closeness, remembering what happened to Raf.

Hopefully this universe didn’t have a variant of dark energon.

“Hey Swerve! Look who I got.”--Whirl

Swerve turning around.

“Whirl if its Rewind and Tailgate—”--Swerve

His optics land on Buddy and Miko in his cockpit.

“H-How—what—huh?”--Swerve

Buddy is trying to ease the tension as Whirl places her and Miko on one of the bar stools and takes a seat himself.

“Hi, I’m Buddy and this is Miko. We are from another dimension and—”--Buddy

Swerve proceeds to fanboy about humans to Miko and asks a thousand questions where the two are trying to answer.

Swerve’s increase in chatter brought attention to the rest of the bars patrons to the new guest.

Some even comm in their friends to come and see the new commers from another dimension.

Buddy seemed to have relaxed a bit at all the friendly bots around her and Miko.

Miko was having the time of her life.

She let some of the more curious bots who had never seen a human before holding her on the condition that they tell her goofy stories.

Whirl had offered to take her to the gun range, which Buddy immediately shot down.

Eventually Ultra Magnus came in with Rodimus following behind.

The pair had heard from Ratchet, Brainstorm and Perceptor about their new visitors and had to meet them.

Magnus had messaged Megatron to come as soon as his evening class was done.

Magnus had never seen a human or a bot so happy to see him before.

What is this feeling?

They were excited… to see him?

Not Rodimus… just him?

That’s when Megatron came in with the rest of the Rod Squad.

Buddy felt her entire world come to a halt.

She knew well that this Megatron was not hers.

She knew that she should have any harsh feelings for the mech that she barely knew.

…that didn’t stop her servos from shaking and everything start to blur.

Miko was quick to recognize that Buddy was starting to freak out and saw why.

And she wouldn’t blame Buddy for freaking out.

This Megatron was a whole category by himself, easily.

Their Megatron wouldn’t stand a chance against this giant mech.

Miko went to grab Buddy’s servo when she noticed something in her pocket.

The Apex Armor!

How did she even forget this!?

Miko activates the armor and jumps off the counter causing multiple mechs to scream and try to grab her.

She activates the armor now standing roughly average height in front of Buddy.

“DID THE FLESHY CYBERFORM?!”--Brainstorm

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?”--Tailgate

“THAT’S MY FURTURE AMICA!”--Whirl

Miko stares straight at Megatron as if daring him to make the first move.

Rodimus comes between her and Megatron.

“Woah, woah, woah. First nice form and all that needs explaining. Two I heard about your war still going on, but this Megatron here, he’s reformed.”--Rodimus

Buddy pats Miko on the shoulder from the bar.

They both look at each other, having an in-depth understanding.

Buddy gets down on the floor and walks towards the hulking giant, staring at the red Autobot badge.

She takes out her servo.

“My name is Buddy. Its… its good to see you Megatron.”—Buddy

Miko was silently cheering for Buddy’s bravery.

She even managed to get Megatron to sit down with the rest of the patrons.

That’s when the two of them agree to finally, fully, talk about their universe.

Starting with Buddy’s origins.

Just hearing about Buddy being Pre-war Megatron’s daughter floored everyone.

Megatron exe. Has stopped working please try again later.

He… he has a sparkling in another universe?

That’s great—wait… they were still at war…

Something was wrong…

The story started out with much understanding about the Senate’s power-hungry ideas and how hard it was to keep a sparkling.

Everyone, despite knowing what happens generally with the Senate meeting, is on edge.

Everyone is quiet when Buddy starts to describe her life on the Nemesis.

There are some glares to Megatron, but then they remember its other dimension Megatron that they need to get angry at.

Megatron has a neutral face while Buddy describes her time on the Nemesis.

Miko grabs her servo when the worst bits come up.

Several bots get up to give Buddy a hug during the explanation.

Some just stay there hugging.

Miko eventually tells her position with meeting Team Prime to try and make things as chronological as they could.

Once the pair is done, it’s silent.

Megatron looks over at Buddy.

“Buddy… I know that you are not my sparkling. But at the same time, you are. I want to tell you that the actions of my counterpart do not speak for other alternatives. I am sorry that you were hurt this way by him. I know that may not—”--Megatron

Buddy dives in and hugs his waist.

Megatron freezes before slowly placing his servo on Buddy’s back.

“You don’t need to apologize. You’re not him. You have a chance at peace and to make something great out of it. I am so proud of you for that Megatron. He… he would take peace and spit in your face. The point I’m trying to say is… thanks dad.”—Buddy

Buddy looks back at him.

She gives a small smile.

He gives a weak one back.

Miko is cheering in the background.

For the next several days the duo stays on the Lost Light waiting for the machine to get fixed.

Swerve thankfully got his servos on some human necessities for Miko while she stayed.

They had a blast with everyone on the ship.

Megatron and Buddy were nearly inseparable.

Megatron silently swears if he sees his counterpart that caused so much pain to this sparkling, he is going to meet his end. Or at least get the beating of a lifetime.

Soon enough it’s time for the two to leave.

The goodbyes are long and tearful.

Miko hugs Whirl’s neck as he tries his best to not tear up.

“If you ever end up in my universe you know who to call, okay?”--Miko

“Got that right Fleshy.”--Whirl

“I’m gonna miss you, you oversized can opener.”--Miko

Buddy and Megatron exchanging some words before giving one last hug.

“Bye everyone!”—Buddy and Miko

Buddy and Miko, in the Apex armor, go through the portal.

Menawhile in TFP…

Buddy shoots out the portal and straight into the wall.

“Why… I swear its every single time…”--Buddy

Miko lands doing a back flip.

“That was fun!”--Miko

Buddy falling back on the floor.

“Speak for yourself.”--Buddy

“MIKO!? BUDDY?!”--Bulkhead

Thunderous pedes start coming their way.

“Miko how do you feel about house arrest?”--Buddy

“…You think if we contact the Lost Light again, we’ll escape it?”--Miko

Pedesteps are getting louder.

“Not likely. Do what I do. Accept your fate without resistance.”--Buddy

The door gets torn off its hinges as Tema Prime comes pouring in.

“Nice knowing you Miko.”--Buddy

“Same to you Buddy.”--Miko

[drabblesandimagines]

Promises

Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy nonsense, taken some liberties with timeline of RE2R.

“There.” You hop off the desk and turn back round to admire your handiwork, hands on your hips and tilting your head a little at the banner now hanging from the ceiling tiles, surrounded by streamers. “Hey – does that look squint to you?” It had looked level when you were stood up there, but now you’re back on the ground the banner proudly displaying Welcome Leon looked a little off.

“Does it matter?” Edward steps behind you, files in hand after rummaging through the filing cabinet. “He’s not going to take a spirit level to it.”

“No, but…” You sigh, tilting your head in the other direction to see if that made a difference.

“You were off the clock 40 minutes ago, rookie, and I ain’t paying overtime.” Branagh’s voice booms from his office door and you turn, shrugging your shoulders in acknowledgement. He’s got his jacket over his arm, briefcase in hand, looking to be heading home for the evening.

“Of course, Lieutenant. I just wanted to get this up before I left for the day. He still starts the day after tomorrow, right?”

“Mm-hm. I don’t know why Chief Irons is insisting on this morale-boosting bullshit.”

You hold your tongue – calling it bullshit is exactly why the captain is insisting on it, and when Branagh had tasked you to do something to make the new recruit – one Leon S Kennedy – feel welcome upon joining the force, you’d thought the idea was quite sweet. It had been daunting enough for you almost six months earlier, joining a police station where everyone else was a few years your senior and friends for a good while. It had been difficult gaining their respect, proving your worth but, hey, you had it now… more or less.

Branagh sighs – you must’ve been pouting. “It’s not squint, rookie.” He walks over, looking at the banner and streamers with a stoic expression. “As long as you haven’t wasted taxpayers’ money with that and that weird lock puzzle you’ve set up, then I shouldn’t complain.”

“No, sir. I got the locks from storage and the banner and streamers are all on me. And we could re-use it, if you switch some letters around…”

He scoffs, taking in the sign again. “To what?”

“Er…” You look at the letters. “O clown melee.”

Branagh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go home.” He turns to your fellow officer, then. “Edward, I expect that report on my desk first thing tomorrow.”

“You got it, Lieutenant.” Branagh nods as he leaves the room. “Why are you so excited about the new guy anyway, rookie?” Edward is at his desk now, flipping through the pile of arrest records.

“Isn’t it obvious, Edward?” You grin, picking up your rucksack from beneath your desk.

“Ah, you want a boyfriend, I get it.”

“Ugh.” You scoff. “No, it means I won’t be the rookie anymore.”

Edward cocks his eyebrow at you before shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

--

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line is casual, upbeat. It’s nice to hear after the last 24 hours has been anything but. It matches the photo in the file you have, one finger still besides his contact number. Blonde hair, cute face. Too sweet to come here now.

“Leon Kennedy?” You try and steady your voice, sitting at the desk in Branagh’s office. You can see some streamers dangling from the ceiling and you hope the broadcast that’s been playing for the last few hours can’t be picked up on the line.

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“I’m with the Raccoon Police Department.” There’s blood on your forearm, but you’re not sure if it’s yours. “I know you were meant to start tomorrow, but there’s been a… delay with the paperwork. Our end, not yours. We’ll be in touch with a new date.”

“Oh. That’s…” He sounds disappointed, but if you told him the real reason he wouldn’t believe it. You don’t believe it. “Er, that’s okay. Thanks for letting me know. You’ll definitely been in touch?”

There’s a bang at the window. A man, blood dripping down from his mouth, a gouge out of his own neck snarls at you through the pane of glass.

“We will.”

“All rig-” There’s no dial tone, no beep of disconnection – just silence. They’ve cut the phonelines.

--

Seven days of hell. This wasn’t covered at the academy – whatever this is. They said it was a radiation leak at first – that was what was making people act so feral. You’d seen the worst of humanity over the days and no-one seemed to be coming to help anymore. The army had been drafted in, at first evacuating bus-loads of civilians out before that was deemed too risky. They then tried to quarantine everyone, everything in but nothing is working – blockades go up, they come down, more and more people die, your colleagues die.

Or do they, really? Scott, Ford and Carlsen were definitely upright, shuffling towards you the third or fourth time you resorted to shooting them in the head.

The police station was designated a shelter, a sanctuary. It’s a sturdy building, that’s for sure – solid walls of a former art museum – but it’s not enough to stop whatever has happened to the people you tried so hard to protect.

You don’t know where Phillips, Edward or Branagh are, or if they are still even them. It’s impossible to know how long you’ve been down in the cells now – power’s out, it’s dark all of the time. The only way you know that time has passed at all is by the hunger pangs in your stomach.

You’re just glad that they’re not for human flesh.

Yet.

You’d found Irons down here. His last orders were for everyone to stay in the station itself, but Branagh had sent you down, reluctantly, in the hopes of finding any sort of supplies that hadn’t already been picked apart. Everyone assumed the chief was dead - hadn’t been seen in days. As you’d headed down to the cells, you’d heard raised voices, arguing. You couldn’t work out what they were saying at first, concentrating too much on the fact that they were real voices, saying real words and not guttural growls.

Chief Irons holding a gun in a man’s face, forcing him into in a cell and slamming the door shut is not what you’re expecting to see.

“Don’t just stand there,” the new prisoner called out to you, “help me! The guy’s a madman. He’s been selling us all out to Umbrella this whole time. He’s responsible for this all!”

Chief Irons turns to you, pupils blown out, looking fed up, gun still held aloft but now in your direction.

“What are you doing down here? You were told to all stay up in the station.”

“Sorry, Chief. We thought… Branagh told me to come down. What’s going on?”

“Er, hello! Did you hear me?” The man is holding the bars of the cell. “He caused this.”

You ignore your gut in the presence of authority,  “Is it wise, sir, to leave him in there? He’ll be a sitting duck.”

“He’s not the only one.” And you see his trigger finger flex.

You run then, an attempt at a sprint from the adrenaline, but there’s a hot, searing pain in your thigh. You’re fast, but he’s faster, an arm wrapped around your windpipe, cutting off the oxygen. You stomp on his foot, jerk your head back, anything to try and make him release his grip but the world is swimming before you.

Perhaps this is the most peaceful death you could wish for.

There is a bitter feeling when you wake up, locked in a cell further down the corridor from where you’d been, without your gun, thigh tacky with blood and painful to move. There is a crude bandage wrapped around it, preventing blood loss but it feels more a death sentence than a blessing, surrounded by echoing snarls and rats that need kicking away.

--

You wake up to repetitive, methodical gunshots. Someone is going cell by cell, peering in and eliminating those inside.

Maybe the army is back, maybe they’re cleaning up the mess.

You’d fallen asleep sat in the corner on the cot, back leaned up against the wall. The rats didn’t seem to climb up here as much at least – you’d feel them before they managed to get a nibble.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer before a flashlight is shone around your cell, investigating every nook and cranny before it lands on your face, causing you to squint. You hold up your hands.

“I’m not one of them.” You plead, your voice raspy from sleep. You desperately want to cough but worry that’ll make too much of a them sound.

“Are you hurt?” The voice sounds fleetingly familiar. You blink in the light before it dips a little and you can see who’s wielding it.

Although his hair is mussed, a little bloody, you recognize the sweet face from the file on Branagh’s desk all those days ago and a certain something clipped on the end of his gun.

“You got your welcome present.” “Huh?”

“You’re Leon, right?” He nods. You get to your feet, cautiously, using the last of your energy to limp across to the bars, curling your fingers around them to steady yourself. You offer your name - as if it would mean anything to him. “I put that in your desk. Did you solve the lock or did you just smash your way through?”

“No, no, I solved ‘em.” He bites his tongue, doesn’t tell you that when he solved them was moments after he had to shoot that certain colleague in the head. “Did you put that all together?”

You smile, “And the banner – if it’s still up.”

“No, it is.” He wraps his hand on top of yours, maybe as desperate for human contact as you’d been. “Thank you – I wish I could’ve seen it on a day as it should’ve been seen.”

“Me too. But… why are you here? I told you to stay away.”

“That was you as well?” His eyes widen – beautiful blue things. If Edward could see you the smitten look on your face now, he’d be intolerable. He’d caught you making eyes over guys being booked in the past, after all.

“I wish you’d listened.”

“You said you’d be in touch.” He teases, before settling into something more serious. “I’m glad I didn’t cos it looks like you’re in quite the predicament. Why are you in there?”

“Long story. Can you get me out? There should be an override switch for all the cells – runs on a generator. Not sure if things have been messing with it.”

“I’ll work something out.” He smiles, squeezing your hand before he lets go. “Just… sit tight. I’ll be back – I promise.”

And, as you stagger back to the cot, head falling back against the wall, you believe him.

--

Time is fuzzy now, or maybe you’re just weak from hunger, weak from pain. Water from the cell sink has been the only thing that’s kept you going. But now there’s an alarm sounding and mechanical locks clunking and so much groaning.

Your name is being called, shoulders shaken but you can’t focus. You’re heaved up from the cot, arms wrapped around your waist and over someone’s shoulder. A hand squeezes your backside before there’s an apology and it shifts back to your waist. There’s gunshots, hissing, snarling, screaming, swearing all around you but all you can do is hang limply, catching glimpses of limbs and blood smears on the floor before it all goes black again.

--

“She’s dead weight.” A new voice – female – echoes around your head, though you’re in a different position now – cradled in someone’s arms, face pressed against the weirdly familiar feeling of a bulletproof vest.

“Ada.” A warning tone.

“What? You can’t carry her and shoot.”

“It’s fine.”

“Not where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” You mumble, forcing your eyes open and up to see that picture perfect smile once more.

“Hey. How you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better.”

“I’m sure. This is Ada – she’s with the FBI.” A woman in sunglasses and a white coat shoots you a disinterested look.  “We’re going to Umbrella’s lab. This whole thing’s a virus – we need to stop…” He smiles, noting your bemused expression. “I’ll explain later. You just rest, okay? We’ll find you somewhere safe whilst we deal with this.”

“Safe?” You want to laugh. “Good luck.”

Leon finds something though – an armored military truck the south side of town. No windows, a box of rations still intact.

“Okay, you stay set up in here.” He’s crouched in front of you, Ada hanging back at the door. “I promise I’ll be back for you afterwards.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 He squeezes your hand. “I’m gonna keep it – just you see.” Leon gets to his feet and Ada steps aside as he exits, before peering at you over her shades.

“Here.” She withdraws a gun from within her coat, slides it over the metal flooring of the truck. “Just in case.”

Leon puts on a smile behind her, hand aloft in a wave and Ada slams the door shut.

You don’t need to check the barrel to know there’s only one bullet in there.

--

More time passes through a combination of consciousness and unconsciousness. Opening up packets of dry, dusty crackers that tasted euphoric on an empty stomach and bottled water, gun still within reach and blissful silence as the thick metal walls obscured all sound from outside.

The door opens, morning light flooding behind, illuminating Leon as an angelic figure – his shoulder now wrapped in a bloodied bandage. A woman sporting a ponytail behind him, a little girl too, but no Ada.

“You came back.” You breathe out as he crouches in front of you, taking your hand.

“I promised, didn’t I? This is Claire and Sherry, and we’re all getting out of here.”

You kiss him, clumsily, head still woozy, but his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head, holding you steady before someone clears their throat behind.

“Ahem, Leon…” Claire jerks her head towards Sherry, the girl staring wide-eyed.

“Sorry.” He’s flustered – adorably so – but he drops his hand from your head and helps you to your feet, keeping you close to his uninjured side. He presses his lips to the side of your temple as Claire and Sherry turn, mumbling into your ear.

“And I promise to come back for your kiss too.”

--

You wake with a start, sitting up in the bed, trying to catch your breath. You were back in the police station, hands grabbing at you from boarded up windows, guttural wet sounds from things no longer human.

There’s movement besides you, followed by a click, a soft, yellow light illuminating the room as a warm hand rubs your back.

“You with me, sweetheart?” Leon asks, cautiously. He knows how it feels to wake from a nightmare, how disorientating it can be.

You reach for his hand, lacing his fingers between your own, grounding yourself. You're in bed, you're home, you're safe, you're with him. “You came back.”

“Always will.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[gtgbabie0]

hi there! I love ur works so so much 🤍 everything by u is so sweet! can I request leon meeting a florist reader because he has to get flowers for something and when he sees her he’s already in love cause he thinks she’s really pretty 🥹 and they just have a really lovely encounter and he comes by the shop a lot and eventually he asks her out

The pretty florist

{Leon falls in love with the pretty florist}

So so cute!! Hope you enjoy lovely! 💕

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Leon can’t remember much of his childhood and recently he found himself forgetting a lot more than just the past, for better or for worse, probably for the better he reckons. Still, today was special, the 24th of May, his grandmother's eightieth birthday, the strongest woman he knows.

He wants to give her something at least, no matter how many times she tells him ‘not to worry’ The least he can do is pick her up some flowers, and he finds himself drawn to the cute little flower shop, it seemed so out of place buried within the busy city.

He opens the door carefully, surprised at the little jingle of the bell and he’s hit with the strong aroma of flowers, it’s oddly pleasant, in a refreshing spring way.

“Oh! Good afternoon, looking for anything in particular?” you smile, popping your head around the corner as you walk behind the cash register, and Leon does nothing but stand there completely awestruck. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty, so angelic.

He clears his throat as he wrings his fingers with sudden nervousness, “H-hi- erm, yes” he stutters squeezing his eyes shut as he winces at how awful that sounded.

“I’ve umm, I’ve never done this, brought flowers I mean- well no I have- brought flowers- I just get them already arranged” he rambles, and he feels like an idiot.

But then you giggle, and it’s the most heartwarming sound that he’s ever heard and it somehow makes him feel a lot better, “Oh, It’s alright, let’s just start on why you’re buying them, and then we’ll go from there, okay?” You tell him with such a soft tone, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

His heart shouldn’t be beating this fast, he’s only literally just met you, so why does he feel like his heart is going to explode?

“So what's the special occasion?” You ask.

“It’s erm, it’s my grandmother's birthday today- I wanted to get her something” he smiles as you nod, and he’s taken back at the way your eyes seem to glisten under the afternoon sun, such pretty eyes, he thinks.

You’re saying something and he knows he should be listening, but god, he’s so distracted by your beauty and the kindness that bleeds into your tone.

“-I’ll be one second alright?” You smile and before he could even begin to string a sentence together you’ve already disappeared behind the curtains and into the back room.

You return after just a minute, a beautiful bouquet in hand different variations of yellows and blues, with specks of white dotted around the bundle of beautiful flowers, and Leon finds a new appreciation for greenery.

“They— they’re beautiful thank you, she’s going to love them” he smiles, pleased with the arrangement and he watches carefully as you wrap them up finishing them off with a little white bow.

You look up at him as pulls out his wallet handing you the money, “You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them” You giggle, a prideful feeling settling in your chest.

You pick up the bouquet handing them to him and your skin warms up as his fingers brush against yours ever so slightly, you can’t stop the huge smile that adorns your face as you watch him leave. You can only hope you’ll see him again.

Your wishes were granted, Leon Kennedy, you learned his name became quite a regular sometimes he’d just visit to drop you off lunch, and you couldn’t lie it was nice having someone around. He was sweet.

Like every other day, Leon would pop over to your little flower shop, a coffee in hand and a sandwich of your choice with a huge smile stretched across his face.

“Ah! Leon, you’re my hero- thank you” you tell him as he places the bag on the countertop, chuckling at the way you rummage through the bag.

He watches as you take a bite of the sandwich with love in his eyes, and he can't help but wonder if you look at him with love-filled eyes when he looks away.

“So what’s brought you here today Lee?” You ask, wiping the corners of your mouth as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, a habit of his you picked up on. His heart flutters at the nickname that falls from your lips.

He clears his throat, “Well I- I wanted to ask you something” he stumbles, his hands wringing together with sudden nervousness.

“Yeah go ahead” you smile, urging him to continue.

Leon thinks he might pass out, or worse his heart might stop altogether, the past month he’s been working himself up to do this and now that he’s finally about to do it he can’t stop the tremor in his hands.

“I was- I was wondering if maybe- if you might want to go out some time together, dinner maybe?- like a date if you wanted to” his eyes study the floor beneath him, not daring to look up at you scared of any rejection that might stain your eyes.

But then you reach for his hand and his skin goes all staticky, and when he finally looks at that beautiful smile of yours his heart seems to find a calm rhythm.

his question sends you reeling with excitement and you go giddy at how he looks at you, awaiting your answer with a hopeful gleam in his blue eyes, “I- I would love to Leon” you giggle, noticing the redness that tints his cheeks.

“Is- is Friday good?” He wonders, trying to ignore how soft your hand feels against his.

“Yeah, Friday works,” you tell him excitement bursts through your chest as his thumb grazes ever so slightly over your knuckles.

Leon hasn’t felt like this in a very very long time, the way his heart practically skips beats, how his skin heats up and the butterflies that flutter around in his stomach, he can’t stop the bashful smile that stretches over his face.

“I’ll erm pick you up at seven,” he says as he grabs his car keys, “I- I gotta go- work- before I’m late- see you Friday” he smiles stumbling over himself as he waves goodbye before walking out the quaint little shop.

You giggle to yourself as you busy yourself with work, thinking about Friday and it couldn’t come sooner.

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[matan4il]

Buddie 615 meta

Before we really get into it, I’m just gonna snicker for a second over the fact that the death doula is named Natalia. Why? The name is related to the Latin term for Christmas Day, which is the holiday when Jesus was born. So the word that the name comes from is related to birth, natal. There’s a touch of irony there, that they gave this name to the girl who is not just a death doula, but who looks like she’s actually into death (who thinks dying for a few minutes is cool or amazing. I have to say, it’s not. It’s a good thing to accept death as a part of life, one that heightens life’s meaning, and help others do the same, it’s another to think that the physically and emotionally scarring experience of being dead for a few minutes is “cool”) and I think that’s an interesting tone to choose when introducing Buck’s new Love Interest. (if you’re into it, you can find more name meanings for 911 characters here) ~~

The scene of Eddie and Chris at the cemetery was very touching. It also spoke volumes on how Buck has taken the same role in Christopher’s life as Shannon. We saw in eps 611 as well as this one that Chris is hoping to be heard by the parent that life has taken away from him (Shannon for good, Buck temporarily). What I find interesting is that with the hospital visit, Eddie must understand this on some level. Even with the guardianship reveal, no one has ever explicitly referred to Buck as Chrstopher’s other dad. But he is, and moments like this cement it. We talk about these parallels, but Eddie gets to live them. He witnesses with his own eyes his son talking about Buck in the same way he does about Shannon. Eddie KNOWS what Buck is to their family unit and it’s not just an emergency guardian. ~~

Which connects me to something I touched upon in my 614 meta, Eddie’s journey. He’s supposedly been okay with dating again since 406, but in the last ep we discovered that he’s still held back by past trauma from his failed relationship with Shannon. She’s featured heavily in this ep, too. Her being Christopher’s mom means she’s a presence in Eddie’s life who will always be there. A reminder of how things can go wrong, meaning romantically, but also just in terms of how unexpected death can be.

It pained me to go from Eddie admitting in 614 that he didn’t want to be alone, to him echoing the words of their deceased vic, “We’re all gonna die alone.” That’s something I’ve heard people saying not so much regarding the question of whether there would be someone by your side when you pass away. More like, when death claims us, we all embark on that last journey into the dark unknown on our own. Whether there’s something after death or not, we’ll all discover that completely by ourselves. That’s such a deeply lonely thought, and we see Eddie trying to deal with it in this ep by not postponing seeing his parents. He realizes he was wrong to assume they got time, because death might come for us at any given moment, just like it happened with Shannon. It’s a continuation of his journey, which is obviously not over yet, but to me it’s quite surprising how this week’s ep actually joined Buck and Eddie’s with the common theme of death, but specifically death intertwined with their romantic life. I think each of them is such a fascinating character in its own right, so why the need to connect their journeys like this? I am staring at you, 911. ~~

I was happy that Eddie brought up what a bad idea it is for Buck to be dating someone they helped on a call. This has been a theme with Buck since he meets the snake lady on a call in 101, through Ali in 202, Taylor in 206 and now Natalia. In other words, this has a big, red sign al over it that says it’s doomed to fail, but our Buck is once more failing to notice that. Hopefully the rest of the events in 6b will help him learn and stop making this particular mistake, where he connects his idea of having self-worth only as a firefighter with thinking he can only be romantically desirable to those he helps on calls. ~~

I wrote in this ask reply about the insanity of how Buck and Eddie seem to always start dating again in consecutive eps. As if 911 is not unhinged enough about that, we also have Buck and Eddie being obstructive with the other guy’s dating attempts, first Buck suggesting ghosting to Eddie as a way of blowing off his date with Vanessa in 614, and now Eddie right away pointing out that it’s not a great idea for Buck to be dating Natalia.

We have seen Buddie dating multiple people over the course of almost 5 seasons now, and not a single time have we seen either man on screen approve of their best friend’s romantic partner. Almost like there’s just no one who’s good enough for the man they love so much, right? No one, because on some level, they know what we do, too. That no one else can compete with what the two of them have together. Which is why none of these LIs feel right and acceptable as partners for their best friend. ~~

I love that right off the bat, we got a reminder that Eddie knows Buck better than everyone, on very intimate levels. Just like Eddie knew when Buck was having an emergency session with Dr. Copeland back in 404, while even Bobby as their captain didn’t, we now saw Eddie knows how well Buck handles his taxes. It’s such spouse behavior. Most of us do not have best friends who keep tabs on how we handle governmental bureaucracy, right? But then the end of this ep circles back to this idea and gives us that scene at the cemetery where Eddie proves that this is true not just when it comes to the small things of daily life. He sees Buck, knows him, understands him and Eddie accepts him in every possible way. Which is why he can say that Buck has indeed been different since the lightning strike, an awareness we don’t hear from anyone else, not even from Maddie, Buck’s very close and loving sister.

It reminded me of how Buck said in 309 that Eddie can be honest with him. Then in 511 Buck repeated a variation of that, saying Eddie doesn’t have to pretend with him. In 513 and 514, Eddie got to be indeed fully open with Buck, just as this was paralleled in 612, where Buck was honest with Eddie. This ep continued to expand on this theme, with Eddie reassuring Buck that he doesn’t need to be anything for anyone. And I loved that in an ep where Buck has just started dating someone new, where he thinks she sees him better than anyone, the person who still gets him the most is Eddie, and that’s the person Buck shares himself with the most, too. There is not a single thing Natalia said to him or that he said to her during their date that can rival the intimacy of the cemetery talk. And if Buck still needs a wake up call to see that, well. I do think there’s a good chance he’ll get one, maybe even very soon.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ ~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ I'm so thankful to the beautiful @eddiediaaz​ for the meta gifs this week! Not only did she step in when my regular giffer couldn’t do it this week, she also made so much effort to make sure the gifs are made as soon as possible, so the meta can be posted as early as possible as well. She’s just amazing and I hope everyone gives her a big round of applause! Merci, cherie!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

[imagineteamfreewill]

Cursed

Title: Cursed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Brief heavy drinking, suggested dub con (nothing actually happens besides PG-13 touching, but more is suggested and the reader does not want to participate), cursed Dean, language, angst, a little fluff

Summary: Dean’s cursed after a witch hunt and Sam and Y/N are left to deal with the consequences.

A/N: This is a super random one shot I started writing in 2018 that I just recently found in an old WIP folder. I’ve changed it a lot from what it originally started as, but I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless. As always, thanks for reading and for supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Dean,” you sigh. You steal the sweaty, half-drunk beer bottle from his hand. “You can’t just drink until you black out!”

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling another bottle from the paper carton beside him. It’s already empty and he huffs in annoyance, setting it aside before grabbing the fourth and final beer from its slot.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pry the top off the bottle and take a long swig, then let out a satisfied sigh. The bottle cap clatters to the concrete beneath his pool chair. He smacks his lips and you try to disguise your disgust, even if he won’t care either way.

Frustrated, you stomp back to the motel room and push the door open, slamming your room key and the bottle you’d taken away on the table in front of Sam. The door hits the door jamb on the wall before bouncing back and slamming shut with a bang.

“Your brother is going to be the end of me!” you growl. 

Sam looks up, eyebrows raised as he tries to transition his mind from the lore he’s been reading to what you’ve said. “Hmm?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, inwardly praying for some patience, then look back down at him. “I said,” you begin, unable to even vaguely disguise how you feel, “that your brother is slowly annoying me to death! Please tell me that you have a cure, or at least a counter-curse! I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”

“I haven’t found anything so far,” Sam replies, shaking his head apologetically. He reaches for the beer bottle and you snatch it away, grinding your teeth in frustration. Though you want to take a sip of it yourself to make the next few hours—or days, depending on how long it takes you and Sam to find a cure—easier, you grip it hard in one hand for a second before sighing and putting it back on the edge of the table. Just because Dean was drinking himself to death, doesn’t necessarily mean that his younger brother had to suffer.

“Just… Just figure something out. I need to go back to keeping an eye on Mister R&R out there.” You gesture towards the door, then press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re exhausted; not only had yesterday’s witch hunt been nothing more than a dead end, but somehow, Dean managed to get himself cursed. It’s up to you and Sam to find the witch and a cure, and Dean’s no help. The curse has left him incapable of doing any actual work, instead convincing him that all he should do for the rest of his life is relax. All you’ve done for the last day and a half is chase after him to make sure that he doesn’t break any laws or get himself hurt.

“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise,” Sam reassures. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? Maybe we can convince Dean to come relax in here. If we’re lucky, he might sleep, too. Sleeping isn’t work—if we spin it the right way he might go for it.”

You nod wearily and pick up the beer again. You dump its contents down the bathroom drain before tossing the empty bottle in the plastic trash can. “Are there any more of those in here?” you ask, heading back out to the main part of the room.

Sam turns in his seat to glance around the room, then shakes his head. “Nope. I think Dean got ‘em all already.” He closes his laptop and pushes the chair back from the table, standing and grabbing your keycard. “You take a shower and I’ll go get Dean. You look like hell.”

Snorting, you send Sam a grateful look and go over to your duffel, where you pull out your bag of toiletries and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. After a second of thought, you grab a pair of shorts, just in case he’s feeling grabby. “Gee, thanks.”

The sound of the door closing is Sam’s response. You shut your eyes for a second, soaking in the still, peaceful silence of the room before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It’s the first time since yesterday morning that you’ve been alone, and it’s the first time it’s been so quiet, too.

Minutes later, you’re scrubbing yourself down and ignoring the way that the dirty water pools around your feet as you rinse away the grime from the past two days. It feels good to finally be clean. You’re just rinsing off your face and hair when you hear the bathroom door open and you freeze, carefully peeking open an eye to stare at the frosted white shower curtain. The person on the other side doesn’t move, nor do they make a sound.

“Sam?” you ask after a second. “Is that you?”

“Guess again,” Dean replies, a bit too cheerily for your liking.

You can only see his vague silhouette through the shower curtain, but you can clearly picture the arrogant smirk on his face. It’s been one of the few expressions on his face since he’d been cursed. The others in the rotation have left you equally as irritated.

Pursing your lips, you quickly finish rinsing off and turn the knob to shut off the water. “Hand me my towel,” you say, sticking a hand out around the curtain. It’s a request you’ve made many times in the past, yet now it comes out harsher, more like an order or a command than a simple task.

“Why? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Dean counters.

You sigh, your arm dropping slightly as you keep it held out. “Dean, come on. This isn’t you. Please just hand me my towel.”

“Of course it’s me,” he says. “I’m just wondering why my girl won’t let me see her wet and naked. We could have a lot of fun that way…” His fingertips brush your forearm as his silhouette moves closer, and you snatch your arm back.

“You’re cursed, Dean. We’ve talked about this. Now please, hand me my towel.” Dean only hums in response and you growl quietly to yourself before yelling, “Sam! Sam, get in here!”

A moment later, the bathroom door squeaks open again and you hear Sam shout in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Put on some clothes!”

“Of course he’s naked,” you mumble under your breath. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Dean chuckles and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to slip and fall. The chill from the bathroom has started to set in now that you’re no longer under hot water, and goosebumps have broken out over your damp skin. You shiver.

“Sam,” you call, a little louder so you can be certain that he’ll hear you. “Sam, please just hand me my towel. Your idiot brother refuses to.”

You feel the rough fabric in your hand as soon as you stick your arm out again, and you quickly yank it inside the shower with you before Dean can snatch it. After wrapping it around yourself, you pull the shower curtain open to find Dean buttoning his jeans, his upper half still bare.

“Thanks for putting pants on,” you say, pushing him out of the way so that you can get to the sink. Hopefully, your praise will incentivize him to do what you ask. Maybe he’ll be more willing to nap that way. It’s only a thread of hope, but you’ll cling to it until it breaks.

You wipe the fog off the mirror with your hand and peer at your reflection for a second before grabbing your comb and starting to comb out your hair, shivering when cold water drips onto your bare shoulders.

“Let me do that,” Dean says. He grabs the comb before you can answer and picks up where you left off, leaving you to hold up your towel in silence. His hands are gentle and for a moment, you forget that he’s cursed. This is something he does for you all the time. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares for you, even when he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts or when the two of you are too tired to even talk.

When the thought pops into your head, however, you begin to analyze the situation, trying to figure out exactly how this is helping Dean relax. So far, he’s only done things that help him relax, not others, which means that this somehow has to be more beneficial to him than it is to you.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach up and take the comb from his hands, ignoring the spark of electricity that runs up your arm when your skin brushes against his. “Why are you doing this?” you ask, crossing your arms over the top of your towel as you turn to face him.

Dean shrugs, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind you. His expression seems more normal than it has since the witch hunt, and you grip the edge of the towel a little tighter, watching him carefully. Has the curse been broken somehow?

“Dunno. I like playing with your hair, I guess.” A familiar, lazy smile crosses his face as he meets your eyes a second later, and he takes a step forward so his hips pin yours against the bathroom counter. “Plus, I know what happens when you get relaxed and you feel taken care of.”

Scoffing, you push Dean off of you and toss the comb down, then grab your shirt and shorts off the counter. “Get out. I need to change. Go…” You pause, frantically wracking your brain for some suggestion he might actually go for. “Go wait for me in bed, okay? Yeah? I’ll come join you in a minute.” You hope that your words sound promising enough, even if you don’t really plan on doing anything with him while he’s cursed. You couldn’t stomach it.

Dean dips his head to stare down at you with the same lazy, drunk smile on his face as before.  “Okay. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart. Don’t take too long.”

He slips out the door, finally leaving you alone, and you quickly push the door shut and flip the lock—something you should’ve done in the first place. You shudder, then glance at your phone on the counter. 

“Come on,” you mutter. “Anything is better than this.”

Reluctantly, you force yourself to pick up the phone and send a short, carefully worded text before setting it aside and changing into your clean clothes. Rowena’s response comes just as soon as you’re dressed, and you close your eyes when you read her message, relieved. After forwarding it to Sam, you carry your things out to the main room, only to find that Dean’s just where he had promised he would be. A quick glance around the room shows that Sam has chosen to make himself scarce, and you silently curse his name in every language you know.

“Hey there, Y/N,” Dean drawls, directing your attention back to him. His jeans are unbuttoned again, though not unzipped, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of his half-naked frame sprawled out on the bed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You need to sleep, and you figure that if Dean is sleeping, he can’t get into any trouble. It’s getting him to sleep that will be the problem.

“Hey,” you casually reply. You set your things down in your bag, taking a minute to rearrange them with your back to Dean. You hear noise coming from the bed as you plug your phone in on the TV stand and you slow your movement, listening as Dean moves the pillows and blankets around to his liking. When you turn around again, the extra pillows are all on the floor and he’s settled in the middle of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he regards you with a cocky smile.

“You gonna come over here or what?”

Forcing a smile of your own, you cross the room and grab a pillow off the floor, then crawl into bed with Dean. His hands immediately go for your hips in an attempt to pull you on top of him, but you push them away.

“Roll over,” you say, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. “Let me give you a massage first.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly liking your suggestion, then moves over to lay on his stomach. You get to work, doing your very best to get him to relax as much as possible.

You must’ve massaged Dean’s back and shoulders for an hour before you finally hear him let out a soft snore. Your hands are sore, but relief floods you and you carefully move to the opposite edge of the bed and lay on your stomach. You close your eyes, desperately hoping that you’ll fall asleep quickly so you can get as much rest as possible before he awakes.

When you wake up, you can hear Dean arguing with Sam, their voices hushed despite the anger lacing their words. Slowly, you open your eyes and lie still, listening. You’ve rolled over onto your side in your sleep, so you can stare at the wall and watch their shadows as they argue.

“Dean, you can’t go out right now. Y/N is sleeping and I’m not going with you,” Sam huffs. He’s all at once placating and annoyed with his older brother, the same way a parent who’s fed up with their child’s antics might speak. “I have better things to do than pick up chicks at a bar, including finding something to help break whatever curse you’re under.”

“I don’t need your help, Sammy. I’m fine! And I’m not going to a bar, I’m just going to get some food from the taco place down the street!”

“Really? You’re not cursed? Is that why you were taking up most of the bed and Y/N’s only got the edge? Because that’s not like you, man. You’ve been acting differently since we got back yesterday.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean hisses. “Just drop it.”

You listen intently for whatever Sam has to say in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out anything. After a minute, the door to the parking lot opens, then slams shut. You don’t hear Sam go after his brother, nor do you hear anyone moving around the room, and you frown against your pillow. 

Confused, you sit up in bed and rub your eyes before going over to the window, carefully pulling the curtain away from the edge so you can peek outside. It’s pitch black outside. You hadn’t glanced at the clock on the nightstand as you’d crawled out of bed, but you’re certain it’s the middle of the night. You’d slept for almost eight hours, which is practically a miracle.

The boys are just outside the door, on the walkway that runs from the motel office and past every room, all the way to the end of the building. They’re still arguing, but Sam looks more shocked than frustrated. The parking lot lights flicker for a second, and when they come back on, you realize that both Sam and Dean are staring at you.

Feeling a bit guilty that you were caught eavesdropping, you drop the curtain. Then, you step over to the door and pull it open so you can stand in the doorway. Though it’s dark out, Sam and Dean are close enough where you can see them clearly in the overhead lights, and you look between them.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

The two brothers glance at each other, their unspoken conversation ending with Dean’s shoulders slumping, before Sam bitterly answers, “Dean has something he’d like to tell you.”

“Okay…” You turn your attention to Dean, unsure of what to expect.

It takes him a minute to speak up. “I, uh… I wasn’t cursed.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to understand how his behavior the past 36 hours lines up with that statement. “What?”

“There’s no curse. I wasn’t cursed before, and I’m not cursed now. I’m fine,” he says.

Anger is starting to rise up into your chest and you clench your hands into fists. Slowly, in a way you hope will get you the clearest answer possible, you reply, “What do you mean there was no curse? If there’s no curse, then why have you been acting the way you have?”

Dean has the decency to look ashamed, and he looks away to stare at the window leading into the motel office. The employee manning the front desk looks asleep, with one hand propping his head up on the laminate countertop. The vacancy sign in the window flickers. Sam leaves and heads to the Impala, but you only spare him a glance. A few moments later, the car starts up and drives off toward the main part of town. 

“I don’t know. I needed a break from the responsibilities. I wanted to live like there was nothing to worry about, just for a day,” Dean tells you after the parking lot returns to silence once more.

You can’t decide if you’re more shocked at the revelation that he’s not cursed, angry that he’s done what he did, or saddened that Dean felt the way he had, yet he hadn’t felt like he could talk to you about it. You would’ve given him the best day off ever, had you known that’s what he needed. Instead, he’s taken advantage of you and his brother, and he’s treated you poorly in the process. He’s acted like a complete and total selfish asshole.

“I can’t believe you,” you finally scoff. You cross your arms over your chest, but you drop them back down to your sides almost immediately. Angry tears fill your eyes. “You are so selfish! If you had just said something, we could’ve done whatever you’d wanted, but instead, you had to act like you’d been cursed! We were worried sick, Dean!”

You step forward into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I was terrified that we’d never find a cure, and the way you treated me?” You scoff again and shake your head. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Dean! I can’t believe you’d treat me like that. I can’t believe you’d treat Sam like that! Do you know that we were this close to making a deal with Rowena?” You bring your hand up between his face and yours, holding your thumb and index finger only an inch apart to emphasize your point. “This close!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice quiet. He stares down at the sidewalk.

You drop your hand back down your side. “Are you?”

He nods and lifts his head to look up at you. In any other situation, you might’ve broken at the grief in his eyes, but you’re too furious to back down now.

“Y/N, you gotta believe me! If I’d known how out of hand this was going to get, I wouldn’t have done it, but by the time I realized how far I’d taken it, it was too late! I hadn’t thought of a way to get rid of the fake curse without it being too big of an issue, so I had to keep rolling with it.”

You shake your head again, shocked and disgusted that he’d done something so drastic. Throwing up both your hands, you take a step back towards the motel room. “You had to keep rolling with it? I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now! I’m going back to bed.” You turn and start to dig for your keycard in your pajama pocket, even though you know it’s not there.

“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You know, I honestly don’t even know if I want to talk to you,” you snap, turning to face him again. “And I’m not sure that there even is a way for you to make this up to me, Dean. This is so far beyond the realm of things that you could’ve done that I can’t even wrap my brain around it!”

You stomp back to the motel room door and yank on the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge, and you let out a shriek of frustration. Dean silently offers you his keycard, holding it by your hand though he stands just beyond your view. You snatch it from him and shove it into the slot above the handle. When the light turns green, you shove the door open and step inside, then slam it behind you again, leaving the Dean standing alone on the walkway.

Though you’d said you were going back to bed, you’re too riled up to sleep, so you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for your second shower of the day. Thankfully, this is the nicest motel you’ve had in a while. The water pressure may not be great, but the hot water lasts for a long time and there’s nothing suspicious growing anywhere in the bathroom. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and toss your stuff onto the vanity, ignoring it when it slides into the sink instead of staying on the countertop.

As you stand under the hot spray of the shower, you stare hard at the wall. You half-listen to the room, too, just in case Sam or Dean comes back in after you, but mostly you let yourself stew.

Dean’s a great guy. He’s an even better boyfriend, despite all his flaws; he’s attentive, kind, protective (to a fault), and he makes you laugh. He knows when to be gentle and when to leave things be, especially when you’re in a mood. You love him. That thought makes you frown harder, and you cross your arms over your bare chest. You love Dean, but he’s treated you so poorly that you can only doubt if he loves you in the same way. Surely someone couldn’t do something so horrid to someone they loved?

One of the boys knocks on the door and you ignore them. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard them enter the room. When they knock again, you roll your eyes and drop your arms, then grab the conditioner.

“What?” you snap.

“Sam came back. We’re going out to get some food. Do you want your usual?” Dean asks.

Huffing, you squirt a handful of conditioner into your palm and close the bottle, and you practically slam it onto the shelf in the shower. It immediately slips off and clatters to the floor, narrowly missing your foot. You curse and leave it there.

“Y/N?” Dean asks again.

“Sure! Fine! Whatever, Dean! Get whatever you want for me, I don’t care!”

“Y/N—”

“Just leave me alone? Okay?”

There’s silence on the other side of the door, and you think for a second that Dean’s actually done what you’ve asked for the first time since the hunt, but then he asks,

“Do you need a break? From me?”

You pause, your hands frozen where they’ve been working the conditioner into your hair, and you stare at the shower curtain for a moment or two while you think over Dean’s words. 

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “I’m angry, and I’m really fucking hurt. Do you know how exhausted I was, Dean? How worried I was that the second I stopped making sure you didn’t do something stupid, you’d get hurt or arrested? I didn’t shower after the hunt, and I’ve barely eaten anything.

“And when you came in here while I was showering earlier? I was so scared you’d do something that you couldn’t truly agree to. And then, for a minute, when you combed my hair, it was like everything was normal again. I guess it was normal, but I didn’t know that then, did I? And then, after a while, I thought you were doing it just to come onto me, and you played that up. You made me so uncomfortable, Dean, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop you from doing something if you were really dead set on having sex with me. If you’d really been cursed, you wouldn’t have been in your right mind to agree to anything, and I would’ve had to live with that thought if something had actually happened! I was so terrified of that, and yet the whole time you were just pretending! Like it was a game to you, or something!”

There’s a strangled noise from the other side of the door and you close your eyes, hands trembling. Dean doesn’t speak again for a minute. When there’s only silence, you start rinsing out your hair, and then you turn off the shower and grab your towel from the bar.

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Dean says, startling you as you reach for your comb. It’s exactly where you’d left it last night, after you’d thrown it aside. You stand on the cheap bath mat, holding the tiny plastic comb as you wait for Dean to continue.

“I probably never will, but I want to try. I know I’ve messed up, and I know I did horrible things. You have no idea how horrible I feel and how sick it makes me that I made you so uncomfortable. I should’ve stopped right away. I shouldn’t have even pretended to want that from you. If you can’t forgive me for what I did and how I made you feel, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you alone forever, but I love you, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what got into me.”

“This isn’t like you, Dean,” you interject, quieter than before. You feel deflated after his speech. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he says, almost pleading with you, as if you have all the answers. You wish you did.

You lean sideways against the door. It’s cold against your shoulder and you hold the towel tighter, staring at your blurred reflection in the foggy mirror. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?” 

“I don’t know. I should’ve. My head’s messed up and I was afraid you wouldn’t react the way I needed you to.”

“It’s okay to feel scared when you talk about how you feel, but we’ve gotta be honest with each other if this is going to work. You have to be honest with the person you’re dating, no matter what. That’s a big thing, Dean.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stand there in silence, each of you on opposite sides of the door. Finally, you straighten up and turn the handle. It unlocks automatically and you pull the door open to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks shocked that you’re facing him so soon, and though his eyes flicker down at the white towel you’re still wearing, he mostly just holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying, and though he’d mentioned that Sam was back, the room is silent.

“This kind of thing can never happen again,” you tell him firmly. “If it does, I’m out. I’m telling Sam that, too, so that if you pull something like this again and then try to find me, he can stop you.”

Dean nods. His voice breaks as he replies, “That’s fair. You deserve to be with someone who’s good for you, even if it’s not me.”

“And we have to talk about how we’re feeling, even if it’s hard. Maybe we should come up with a plan for when you feel this way.” Dean nods again and you look down at the comb in your hands. You pause for a second to collect your thoughts. “Dean, I’m still angry with you, and I probably will be for at least a little while, but I’m also hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to me. I know Sam probably is too, but I do understand how you feel. You’re not alone in this.”

“I know that now,” he softly answers.

You look up. “Do you?”

He nods. “I’m sorry,” Dean repeats.

“I know.” You look back at the comb, then up at him again. “You can start by combing out my hair and braiding it in those fancy braids you pretend not to know how to do.” You hold out the comb and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You wanna fix things? This is step one, Dean.”

He sighs and takes the comb, his shoulders slumped dramatically. There’s a hint of his normal self in his expression now. You step further into the bathroom to allow him room to stand behind you.

Dean’s hands are gentle as he begins to comb out your wet hair. You glance up at him in the mirror. He catches your eye almost right away, then smiles slightly. You smile back, just enough for him to see it before he focuses back on your hair, the first olive branch that you’ve extended him.

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Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @alexwinchester23 @shaelyn102 @lyarr24 @supermoonpanda @ultimatecin73 @musiclovinchic93 @shamelesslydean @mlovesstories @ellie-andthemachine

Dean Winchester: @karikatz12481 @amionthetumbler @akshi8278

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Find Your Way Back Home: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Dean turns to you for comfort whenever he is feeling vulnerable and emotional. You try to help in any way you can, even if it means giving yourself to him physically. He tries to push you out of his life but you show him that you're not going anywhere.

Author’s Note: This is the third part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is twenty-six, the reader is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-four.

x

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to Dean after he promised to stay with you. Maybe he had a good reason for leaving but then why didn’t he just tell you? Did he only tell you what you wanted to hear? Does he feel the same way as you do for him? Your roommate returned home last week but the place feels empty without Dean in it.

You’re in the kitchen making something to eat when you glance at your phone that’s sitting on the counter.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it’s talking to you?” your roommate, Jessica, asks.

“I’m debating on calling someone.”

“Who?” You don’t answer her. “Just call him.”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

“You’re looking at your phone in hope. I know for a fact you’re not into women, and you wouldn’t be looking at your phone if he was just a friend.”

You hate how perceptive she can be. You finish making your food and set the plate on the counter only to pick up your phone. You dial Dean’s number before you can stop yourself and place the phone at your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers in two rings.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? You left, Dean. You promised me you’d stay.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. My dad needed me. Sam’s gone and he needed some help on a hunt.”

“You could have left me a note or something.”

“If it helps anything, I did enjoy my time with you.”

Just like that, he brings a smile to your face. Your first time is exactly how they describe in books. It was passionate and magical.

“Me, too. When can I see you again?”

“Well, I’m finishing a hunt right now but I can come down after.”

“Okay. There’s a diner here that has amazing burgers. I think you’d like it.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Heat spreads from your neck to your cheeks, and you turn away from your roommate so she doesn’t see how quickly you’ve fallen for Dean.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” you chuckle.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you in a few days.”

You hang up on Dean with a smile on your face.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jessica asks.

“No, but I’m hoping he might be.”

Four days go by antagonizing slowly. Your homework sits on your computer untouched because all you can think about is Dean and his hands on you. He made good on his promise and showed up at your dorm by the end of the week, and you hate how quickly you’re running down the stairs to greet him.

“Dean!” you smile and fling yourself into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he smiles.

He leans down and captures your lips with his. It feels good to finally be in his arms. Your body screams at you for his touch but you want something more than just sex. You want to know his mind and connect with him on a deeper level than just physical.

“So, the diner doesn’t close until really late but I was thinking if we go there now, we’ll still have enough time to go bowling afterwards. There is a place near here that’s pretty cool. The lanes light up.”

Dean bends slightly and hooks his hands underneath your thighs. You’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist so you don’t fall, but you don’t mind the position. He slides his hands over your ass to keep you close to him as he walks inside your building. The door is propped open since they are having new students come in and apply to live there next year. No one is in the lobby as Dean carries you through it and up the stairs to your floor.

“I have a better idea,” he grins and kisses your neck when he reaches your front door.

You didn’t lock it for this exact reason so he pushes it open and slams it shut behind him. Jessica is in class so it’s just you two again. The thought of having him inside you again is getting you wetter than you care to admit. Ever since your first time, you’ve craved his touch. You haven’t been with another man since you don’t want anyone else but him.

“I don’t think I can wait this time, Dean. I just need you inside me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

He lays you on your bed and runs his hands down your clothed legs. He doesn’t want you to think you’re some booty call but damn, he can’t think about anything else but your pussy. He undoes the string on the front of your sweats and pulls them down your legs along with your panties. He really isn’t wasting time on you.

Dean unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his briefs along with it. His cock springs free with a red angry tip. Precome drizzles down the side of his cock, making your mouth water at the sight. You want to taste him but later, you will. Dean grabs a condom from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth, careful not to break the rubber. He slides it onto his aching cock before running the tip through your folds.

You’re about to bite out some snappy remark when he shoves himself into your drenched pussy. You tip your head back and moan his name while grabbing at whatever you can. Dean falls onto you but catches himself before he can crush you.

“Damn, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Have you fucked anyone after me?”

“No, only you,” you moan.

Dean sets s a fast pace that has you both climbing to your climaxes at the same time. You come around him first followed by himself right after. It’s a short but intense session that’s got your legs shaking and your heart racing. You’re kind of embarrassed for not lasting long but you just missed him so much. Dean pulls out of you and discards the condom before pulling his pants up.

“If you’re hungry we can go to the diner or we can go bowling first. If you still want to.”

“Eat first. I’m starving.”

You get dressed in something more public-appropriate before leaving your dorm with Dean. The diner is located very close to your college so that college students can walk there if they don’t have a car, but Dean still uses his to get there. It’s not packed which is good so you and Dean can have some peace and quiet compared to moments ago.

The waitress brings you two some menus before leaving to tend to other customers. You look through it briefly before looking at Dean in thought. He looks… tired… worn out. He looks like the shit his father has thrown at him is finally catching up with him. He should be experiencing life in his twenties, not fighting and killing monsters.

“How’s your dad doing?” you ask.

“He’s… dad.”

Well, that’s not vague at all.

“How’s Sam doing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t been by to visit him?”

“Nope.”

“Why? You came to see me, and I’m pretty sure I’m farther than Stanford.”

“He left this family. I didn’t make him do anything he didn't want to do. He left us. Why should I go after him when he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us?” Dean scoffs.

“Dean--”

“Anyway, how are you doing? How is school?”

Dean hates talking about his family because it makes him emotional which makes him vulnerable. He hates feeling vulnerable so he avoids talking about things he knows will make him that. You want to pry but you don’t want him to leave so you leave it alone for now.

“School is good. All of my classes are pretty easy.”

“Still all online?”

“Every one of them. I can still go with you, you know? Company or to help hunt.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

“You did when I was ten.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t want you with him but you’re going to keep trying.

“You know, I’ve gotten better at fighting. My building has a gym that I’ve been using almost every day. My aim is better and I’ve read on a ton of lore. I can help you and your dad.”

“I don’t want to taint your innocence.”

Dean didn’t come here to discuss the possibility of you hunting with him full-time. You’re eighteen. He wants you to get an education and stay away from this life as much as you can. He wants you to stay away from him but he can’t seem to stop himself from coming back to you. After a delicious dinner, you two head back to your dorm room where he spends the night.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You let that comfort you into a deep slumber but the fear of not seeing him in the morning is what wakes you up. The spot next to you on the bed is empty but warm which means he left it not too long ago. Is he still here? Did he break his promise again? Before you can overthink, you hear someone cooking something in the kitchen. You throw on something to wear and head out to see Dean in the kitchen making eggs.

“You stayed,” you smile.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“So, we didn't get to go bowling yesterday, but there is this place north of here that has a bunch of activities to do like escape rooms and rage rooms. I figure we can go up there for the day.” Dean flips the eggs in the pan but doesn’t say anything. “Dean?”

“I can’t stay,” he says without turning around.

If he had, he would have seen your face drop.

“What? Why not?”

“My dad called me. He didn’t know I took this little trip and needed me to come back. He’s pissed but I’m hoping by the time I get to him, he might have calmed down.”

“Are you sure? What if you didn’t go back?”

“I have to,” he sighs. He puts the eggs on a plate and sets it in front of you. “He’s my dad and he needs me.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No.” Dean sees the look of sadness in your eyes and walks around the counter to stand next to you. He grabs both sides of your face and kisses you slowly. “I’ll be back.”

You both know he won’t… not for a while. Dean is gone before you know it, and you look down at the eggs he made for you. Suddenly, you’re not so hungry. The first few days after Dean left are spent in your room crying over him. The fourth and fifth day is spent studying and working on your homework as best as you can. The seventh day is the day you realize that you’re an adult and can do whatever you want. Who is Dean to tell you that you can’t help him on hunts?

If you want to go to him then you’re going to go to him. It’s not hard to pack up some of your shit and continue your schoolwork online from anywhere in the country. Dean told you where he and his dad were in case you ever needed him, and that’s where you’re headed now.

There is only one motel on this long stretch of road so it has to be the one Dean and John are staying in. You knock on the door when you get there and wait for Dean to answer. The curtains shift cautiously before the door opens.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Dean asks.

He has his gun in his hands thinking it could be a monster instead of you.

“I’m helping you. Are you going to let me in?”

“Sure,” he mutters and steps aside. “What do you mean you’re helping me?”

“I told you. All my classes are online. You need me.”

Dean has to give you credit. You’re persistent. He closes the door with a quiet chuckle.

“You sure you’re ready for this life?”

“How hard can it be? You do it,” you tease.

You’re ready to take this next step with Dean even if ends in heartbreak and disaster.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! I've been reading a lot of your content lately and love your writing so much! I was wondering if I could request a little fic about Dogma x a very outgoing, naturally confident social butterfly kind of reader who works on base and a lot of clones seem really into them, but they only ever flirt with him or try to ask him out. And their admirers can't figure out why Dogma of all people but the reader has no kriffs to give and just keeps giving him all their romantic attention until he gets it. Thanks in advance!

Two Souls Intertwined

Summary: You’ve made your choice, you just have to convince Dogma that you mean it.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 886

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I'm always happy to write for Dogma, so I hope you like this!

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” You don’t look up from the game you’re playing on your comm as your coworker, and sometimes friend, drops into the seat across from you. “You’re surrounded by attractive men. At all times. And you want Dogma?”

You glance up at the way she says Dogma’s name, “What’s wrong with Dogma?” You ask, offended on his behalf.

“Well...he’s just...he’s not much fun, is he?”

“He doesn’t have to be fun, I like him anyway.”

“Just…” She shakes her head, “I know that so many of the men have a thing for you. And you’re, like, scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

You scowl at her, “I’ve made my choice, and, just for your comments, I’m going to go flirt with him even harder.”

She chokes on her caf, “I...what?”

You throw a cocky grin at her, and push to your feet, downing your caf in one long gulp, before you head out of the break room.

At this time of day, Dogma is probably outside. He likes to take what free time he’s allowed to read something. For a moment, just a moment, you feel bad about interrupting his free time, though you push the guilt aside with ease.

It’s not like he’s ever said, “Leave me alone,” after all.

You head through the halls, and open the door that leads to the courtyard in the middle of the base.

Why this base has a courtyard is beyond you, but you’re glad it does. It offers a nice change of pace from the sterile white and gray halls of the base.

And there he is, sitting under a tree with a datapad in his hands.

A bright smile crosses your face and you dutifully ignore the way that your heart skips when you see him.

You’re well and truly in love with him.

Dogma doesn’t say anything as you walk over to him, and he says nothing as you settle onto the ground next to him. Though he does glance at you when you shift so that your back is pressed against his arm and your head is tilted back to rest on his shoulder.

“Back again?” He sounds more amused than anything.

“Always.” You counter cheerfully.

“You are determined, aren’t you?”

You tilt your head back so you’re able to grin at him.

Dogma’s smile is tiny, but it is there, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

“What?”

“Today’s pick up line.”

You press a hand to your chest, a look of mock offense crossing your face, “I would never-”

“Ah, so I’ve been imagining all of those other pick-up lines, then?” Dogma asks with an arched brow, and you laugh and shift so you’re sitting next to him properly, “You know, my brothers are convinced that you’re using those just to get a reaction out of me.”

You roll your eyes, “They’re just jealous that I only have eyes for you.”

“Or they don’t believe it.” Dogma points out, “I’m sure that there are people who are more similar to you in personality than me.”

“Eh, maybe. But I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” You reply.

Dogma sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “You...someday I’m going to actually believe you when you say stuff like that, and then what are you going to do?”

“Plan our date. Well, schedule our date. I already have our first date planned. We’ll get dinner and go for a walk, and then I’ll kiss you on the way home.” You nod once, “It’ll be perfect.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

You flash a crooked smile, “What? Is it really so hard to believe that I only have eyes for you?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Hm, well then.” You muse thoughtfully, “How about this then? I’m in love with you.”

Dogma jolts in surprise, and you smile at him.

“I’m in love with you, and if you’re really not interested then let me know and I’ll leave you alone. But. Until that happens, I’m going to keep pursuing you.”

“...you’re in love with me?” He asks slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason? I like you. You make me feel safe when I’m around you. You don’t judge me for being me.” Your grin widens, “I love you.”

Dogma releases a strangled noise and lifts his datapad to hide his face, “You’re impossible.” he complains, though he drops the datapad and flashes a small smile, “I’d like that date, actually.”

“...really?”

“Really.”

You laugh and fling your arms around him, knocking you both over, “Thank you! It’ll be the best date! You’ll see!”

Dogma just laughs and folds his arms around you, “I’m looking forward to it.” He replies, a warm smile on his face, “But I need you to get off of me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You scramble off of him and settle on the grass next to him as he sits back up. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Want me to read to you?”

“Will you?”

“Yeah,” He flips back to the start of the book, “Get comfortable.”

You shift and drop your head to his shoulder, and as soon as you’re settled, he started reading.

And this, really, is all you ever wanted. Who cares if no one else understands. You certainly don’t.

[heliza24]

Ep 5, rage, and time

This was a FASCINATING episode. We’ve got a lot more questions than answers right now— about exactly the nature of Fig’s curse (we know it hopped to her from Gilear, but how does the armor of pride play into it), the exact nature of what happened to Cassandra, and what kind of big bad god (???) was talking to Kristen after the fight— so I don’t have a snappy thesis about this week’s ep. But I have some themes buzzing around my head like persistent flies. So let’s talk about them.

I saw someone earlier point out that rage and anger seems to be a dominant theme of the season, after Kristen got advantage for leaning into anger at her parents, and I think we know for sure now that that’s true. I refreshed myself on what happened to Lydia— she sealed a dangerous demon inside a soul gem and embedded it in herself to keep the demon from escaping. She was in a permanent rage to keep herself alive, and the impact of that disabled her. As a disabled fan I have always loved this rep, because the gem functions like a chronic illness, and I personally have used anger at the medical system and the ableist world to survive being chronically ill. (She also refused to have the gem removed and risk releasing the demon, which is a great refutation of the magical cure trope). Anger is a dirty fuel though, and if you burn too much of it you’ll end up burning yourself, and compromising your own mental health, in the process.

That reminds me of the kind of things we were circling from the beginning of the season— burnout, exhaustion, being past where you can fight. And if people heap enough stress on you (from schoolwork or otherwise) a kind of natural response to that is to break into rage at some point.

I don’t exactly understand the mechanisms of the star bursts that originated within Cassandra and then made her monstrous. Were parts of her anger embedded in them like the demon was in Lydia’s soul gem, and then when they re-entered her they turned that rage into something uncontrollable? Why did they affect Kalina that way and why did she mention Ragh’s name? I’m really not sure, although I do hope that this means that Lydia will play a larger role this season and we’ll see more of her and her cool wheelchair soon.

The other things that’s bouncing around my head is the theme of time (a recurring Elmville theme; chronomancy is the greatest magic of all after all). I think this season is concerned with time, and what it means to run out of time, even more than freshman and sophomore year. We have Arthur and Ayda traveling through time and the quadrangle situation. Now we have the Synod clock and a verifiable time loop (side note: I did ABSOLUTELY burst out laughing when Brennan exasperatedly said “anyone can roll arcana to understand time loops” when the PCs were confused, like GOD haven’t you all seen this in a million science fiction stories by now??? A deeply relatable moment when the players aren’t picking up the lore you’re putting down). But maybe more importantly, we’re seeing the consequences of not having enough time this season, or maybe what happens when the clock keeps running after the adventure is supposed to be over. No one has enough time to do all the assignments on their plate. Everyone missed out on fun, school planning, and relationship stuff over the summer because they had to be fighting the night yorb and didn’t have enough time to go home. (Also, side note, the night yorb turned everything to night therefore eliminating a way we have to tell time. No more days, just one long bleed of an adventure). And everything we’re doing right now feels like we’ve somehow hit the end of time and then kept going— Cassandra was never supposed to turn back into something akin to the nightmare king again. Kalina was never supposed to come back in the same form and taunt Riz again. The whole thing feels like a lesser, diminished time loop. Even the main high school antagonists, the rat grinders, are like a weird version of the bad kids who are stuck just looping over and over again, grinding out xp and repeating themselves infinitely.

I don’t really know how these two themes are going to hook together yet exactly, but I have a feeling they’re going to. Whoever was on the phone with Kristen feels like a hook for underlying plot, if not an outright big bad, which I honestly wasn’t sure we would get at all this season. So I’m gonna be so interested to see how these themes coalesce as the season goes on.

PS- I think The Seven is also extremely concerned with time (especially that sequence in the penultimate episode, which is my favorite in all of D20 I think. No spoilers if you haven’t seen it, but it is truly transcendent), and especially what it means to grow and change. I love that this theme keeps popping up in Elmville- it’s such a lovely frame for the kind of coming of age stories that get told there.

[hellfiremovieclub]

attention seeker | eddie munson

summary: Eddie is constantly trying to get your attention. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he doesn’t.

warnings: suggested smut (18+ only), it’s… super brief making out??

word count: no clue :) it’s just a short blurb (edit: turns out about 500)

a/n: i was going to write headcanons but then ended up with this randomly, hope you enjoy :)

-> masterlist

(Context since this is pulled from headcanons: Eddie snapping the reader’s bra to get her attention)

Eddie pulled out his doe eyes quickly, his smile showing that he was happy to pull your attention towards him. “I ask for forgiveness?”

“And I ask that you let me read for longer than five minutes.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his desperate attempt, luring an ornery look from him.

He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. With the back of his hand resting on his forehead you would’ve though he was coming down with something, had his theatrics not been such a huge part of his personality.

“How am I to make it so long without you?” His other hand gripped his chest.

It was hopeless that night, or at least in that moment. You shut your book and sat it aside, catching Eddie’s eye peeping at you before he shut again. He was too roguish for his own good.

You turned yourself, finding your new spot in Eddie’s lap. This was quick to earn his approval, head lifting and hands finding their place at your waist in an instant. You chuckled at his eagerness.

So quick to think he’s won, you thought.

One of your arms curled around his neck, your free hand delicately brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re so pretty,” you murmured.

His eyes were soft again, though with a different intention than before. Eddie’s fingers skimmed beneath the strap of your tank top to find your bra strap again.

“Maybe… it wasn’t the most mature thing, to snap your strap like that.” He put two fingers beneath the strap, gently brushing them against your shoulder.

There was an excitement in his eyes that you noted.

He continued, “But, I mean, look at where it got me.”

His eyes glanced over your face, another smile forming on his lips as he leaned forward to shower you with kisses. This pulled another laugh from you, his soft lips leaving a tingling sensation behind. Eddie was a lot to handle, you could never deny that, but the payoff was always tender.

“You really are pretty, y’know?” You cupped his cheek, “I don’t know that I say it enough.”

A hint of red came across his cheeks. You had said it a hundred times in that week alone, and if you said it a hundred more that day it would’ve had the same effect.

“Will being pretty win me anything?” He finally spoke, licking his lips.

You nodded, “It’ll win you a lot of things.”

Eddie swallowed as he watched you more carefully. You adjusted yourself in his lap, pressing closer to him and moving your hands to the more sensitive skin under his shirt. Both of his hands were found back at your waist, gently squeezing to encourage you to carry on.

His eyes fluttered shut as you leaned in and pressed a kiss against his lips. One. Two. The count got higher.

You felt Eddie’s tongue brush across your lip, and that’s when you decided to pull away. His head followed your momentarily, hoping to link yourselves together again.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke softly, “it’s not going to win you anything right now. Give me those soft eyes again in twenty minutes, we’ll see how things go.”

Eddie hadn’t really processed what you said, his hands following your waist as you climbed right back off of him.

“Now, wait a fucking minute.” Eddie shook his head, mouth open in disbelief.

“Twenty minutes! Let me read in peace, and then you can whine later.” You pressed a kiss into the corner of his lips, “Promise.”

it’s super short but 🤡

-> masterlist