#funny not so funny story but the other day i teared up during my driving lesson & then cried a bit on the walk home & THEN got myself an

[freesomebodybyluna]

Living near a mcdonalds is actually so dangerous

[kenphobia]

AKSHEJ I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! Could be possibly get more yan Wally?? I have like a horrible staring problem and usually make eye contact like a pro when talking to people due to my parents just driving those mannerisms into me lmao how would Wally react to someone with somewhat similar manners to him? Hope you have a good day/night <3333

EYE CANDY!

"And I have a sweet tooth."

summary. wally couldn't help but be interested when the new neighbor also has a habit of staring. i wonder how that turned out? (headcanons / rewritten / see end notes)

contents. too much fluff. one-sided julie x reader because mmmm, funny little fuzzy man is happy.

✦ Staring was something Wally enjoyed doing. He didn't do it out of malicious intent— sometimes, he does but that's a story for another time —but rather people fascinate him a lot. From the way they dress and move to how they interact with others and the environment around them, it sounds a bit silly and weird but it's something he just can't control.

✦ He supposed it was because of him being an artist. After all, he did spent a lot of his time training his eye to focus on every tidbit of detail in his muses. The roundness of an apple's form, the colorful patterns on Frank's vest that doesn't seem to shift along with his movements, the cute little pads on Barnaby's feet— he had it all jotted down in his mind and every one of his paintings seemed reference his friends or the neighborhood.

✦ Or maybe he's just bored, dissociating on random ocassions that he couldn't help but fix his eyes on something. Maybe it was just that, but god was he so happy you're also doing the same thing as him.

✦ It happened during a simple hangout within your friend circle and Wally caught you staring at him. He stared, of course, unblinking as always but you also stopped blinking.

✦ The unprompted staring contest ended after you finally blinked, your eyes tearing up slightly. Wally laughed and offered you his handkerchief to which you gratefully accepted and wiped your tears away.

"Hey, Frank." Julie whispered to her best friend, "What are they doing?" She pointed towards the bench where you and Wally just kept on staring at each other, unblinking and unmoving like mannequins.

Frank looked from the book he was reading, squinting his eyes at you two. "I have... no idea, Julie. Can I please go back to reading now?" He sighed in exasperation, tired from not having a single peaceful moment with any of his cheery neighbors buzzing on and about.

Another puppet plopped herself down next to Julie and Frank. "Ooh, what are you two doing? Spying on the new neighbor again?" It was Sally, giggling herself silly as she nudged the unfortunate Frank's arm.

"I am not spying on them." Frank glared at Sally, his frown deepening. "I never have been and it was mostly Julie doing that since she's too nervous to even approach them."

"I'm not nervous!" Julie argued, her face flushing red. "They're just so pretty and I don't wanna make a bad impression! I know you'd also do the same if you saw a pretty person, Frank." She puffed her cheeks, crossing her eyes as she squinted her eyes at the puppet.

"Ooo, does Frankie have a crush?" Sally's eyes lit up at Julie's words.

Frank quirked a curious brow. "What's that supposed to mean—"

"Hey, guys! What are you doing here?" Eddie's voice suddenly rang through the air as he jogged up to the trio. His arms rested on the back of the bench, pushing his body weight forward as he leaned. "Is that Wally and (Name)?"

Frank immediately stood up, his face flushed for a moment before it went back to its normal grey color.

"Oh, hey Eddie!" Sally greeted, raising her hand up to the mailman who gladly gave her a high five. "Frank and Julie are spying on them!"

Frank's face bursted suddenly in warmth. "Stop lumping me with Julie's—"

"Oh hush, Frank. I know you just as interested as we are. I mean, look at them!" Sally jabbed her hands to your and Wally's direction as if she was presenting a business proposal to the three.

"I think we should let them be, okay?" Eddie smiled, patting Sally's head. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, sliding off his cheeks in a nervous, almost jittery manner. "They're just doing a staring contest, nothing to worry about."

"I mean, that is true..." Julie hummed, pushing her lips in a form of a pout. "Wally really likes staring, and (Name) too!"

Frank shrugged, crossed his arms and leaned on the back of the bench. "Match made in heaven, I supposed."

Your staring competition with Wally came to an abrupt stop when you hear Julie scream and see her tackling Frank to the ground. Sally was cheering for Julie in the sidelines while Eddie is desperate trying to stop them from fighting.

"What in the world—?"

✦ ... Moving on! Wally would never admit it but he does get flustered by your stare at times, especially in moments where he's extremely chatty and he catches you looking at him. Bonus points if you did that little smile that his heart always go kaboom though.

✦ He'd find himself tongue tied and his face burning redder than the color red itself! If you could just excuse him for a moment, he's just gonna scream into a pillow, thank you.

✦ Wally's glad that someone is like him and it reassures him that staring is a common habit people have. Not that he's insecure about it, no! He's proud of his eyes and his staring, he just loves having someone to bond over it. It's the little things that makes it special for him <33

"You know, Neighbor... Your eyes are really beautiful, have I ever told you that?" Wally asked during a little sleepover you two had one day.

"You told me that a long time ago, Wally." You chuckled, patting his head. You gently combed your fingers through his hair, it was weird seeing it down but you wouldn't deny he was beautiful.

"Oh, Ha. Ha." Wally merely said before laughing. "Ha, I see. But they are really beautiful, you know?" He mumbled, snuggling closer to you as he wrapped his arms around you. He closed his eyes and buried his face in your chest for warmth.

"I love you, (Name)."

"I love you too, Darling."

author's note. this was rewritten to be non-yandere since it was barely even yandere in the first place sjshshd but yeah!! this one gets to stay up lol

also this is my entire masterlist, wooe

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part five

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

and then it all comes crashing down.

a/n: outbreak day! plus the time leading up. I couldn’t bring myself to write joel’s side of the tragedy, but here we are. the start of “during”. potentially a little bit of canon-divergence from here until the “after”, but I’m trying to stick with that information we have, while filling in the gaps for reader’s story. (“after” will be when they leave boston with ellie)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, a super brief mention of 9/11, this is definitely not as sad as part four but it’s also involves outbreak day so there’s that, canon-typical violence, death, yes I am turning reader into a badass and I will not apologize.

✨follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications for updates on new works/chapters✨

You never really stop thinking about him. And he never really stops being apart of your life, not truly.

He’s the first person you call, when the Towers fall in New York, not a week after you’ve started your internship. You see it on television, standing in line to get your boss his daily latte, and you pull out your cell phone without a second thought, dialling Joel’s number. “Have you seen the news?”

A freak snowstorm stops you from getting home for Christmas that year; the airport is a disaster to get through after everything that’s happened, so you take a few days off to drive it instead, but you can’t even get out of the state, let alone across the country. So your holidays that year are spent with local friends you’ve made at work, calling your family on Christmas Day and New Year’s.

You try to call Joel on New Year’s, to wish him a good year as the clock strikes twelve, but the call goes to voicemail, and your friends are counting down the ball drop as you ramble into the phone.

Hey, it’s me! Just calling to say Happy New Year, hope you’re having a good night. And hope I get to see more of you in 2002. That year sounds so funny, doesn’t it? Talk to you soon, Joel Miller. Bye.

You almost say it, the words creeping up the back of your throat. The missing him hasn’t abated, even with the time and the distance. You sleep in one of the flannel shirts you’d stolen every night, and you’ll admit that you cried a little when you had to wash them, realizing that it would wash the scent of him away almost completely.

The phone calls get more sporadic, and you don’t blame him. There’s only an hour time difference between Texas and Massachusetts, but it feels like much more. You’re off-kilter from one another, always seeming to catch each other’s voicemail instead of the real person.

You manage to make it home for the Fourth of July the following summer, your internship having turned into a real job, but a real job that’s kept you busier than ever for the first half of the year. Your boss is, blessedly, understanding, and lets you take two weeks to go back to Austin.

He meets you at the airport, your name scrawled on a piece of paper, a bouquet of daisies in his grip, and you nearly burst into tears right there in the terminal. Your entire two weeks is filled with him, though you try to split your time between the Miller’s house and your own, letting your sister talk your ear off more than she already does on the phone, taking a few afternoons to help your dad around the hardware store. But almost every night finds you in Joel’s bed.

You all go to the park for fireworks on the Fourth. Your parents are re-introduced to Joel, though you’re both adamantly just calling each other “good friends” — which earns you an eye roll from your sister. Sarah runs around the field with the other kids, waving sparklers and giggling like mad. You stick close to Joel, the three of you sitting on a blanket in the grass, and you watch the firework together, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm swung around your waist. Sarah’s too preoccupied with the firework display to notice.

When you get home the next morning, your sister hands you a polaroid, the words July 4th 2002 written in sharpie along the border. It’s you and Joel, backlit, your head on his shoulder as a gigantic white firework explodes in the night sky. You don’t know what to say.

“I know you never wanted to leave him,” she says, and you nearly burst into tears as you hug her.

It’s another tearful goodbye when your two weeks are up, and you’re a fool to think it’d be any easier than the first time. You say goodbye to your parents first, and Joel picks you up in his truck, taking you to the airport. He kisses you deeply outside, burying his hands in your hair and squeezing you tight before letting you go.

And always the same farewell, the same thing he said when you first left, the same thing he’s said at the end of every phone call.

“Take care of yourself, baby.”

+

You meet Dean through a friend of a friend.

It’s almost Christmas, 2002, and you haven’t been home since July. Your phone calls with Joel have dwindled to almost non-existent; you just don’t have the time. Work is busy, to the point where you find yourself still sat at your desk until nearly midnight some nights. And you’re still missing each other, voicemails left occasionally, the missed calls stacking up through the week until it’s the weekend and you feel too tired to put yourself through the heartbreak of hearing his voice.

Hey, darlin’, it’s me. I keep missin’ ya, I guess. Hope you’re doin’ okay. Don’t work too hard, yeah? Been thinking about you a lot and I just…Take care of yourself.

It felt like a goodbye. Standing in your kitchen, takeout spread out on your counter, chopsticks in hand. He hadn’t said it, not specifically. There was no I can’t do this anymore, no this hurts too much, doesn’t it hurt you too? But it still felt like a finality, of sorts.

You took the takeout to bed with a bottle of wine.

That weekend, your friends drag you out to some party. A housewarming thing for someone you don’t know, a fancy loft on the other side of the city. It’s as good a reason as any to get out of your head, throwing on a new dress and a bit of makeup. You do shots in your apartment before piling into a cab, tipsy by the time you get to the party. There’s lots of faces you don’t know, your friends pulling you through the crowds, one of them grinning at you.

“You have to meet Dean.”

He’s tall. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and he’s a lawyer. He laughs at your jokes and gets you another drink when you finish your first. He’s from Boston; a pure-bred, he tells you, and chuckles when you ask to see his pedigree.

You wake up in his bed the next day, your dress and shoes scattered on the floor of his stupidly nice apartment, head throbbing with a hangover, guilt bubbling up on your tongue like bile. Dean makes you coffee and calls you a cab, gives you a business card with his number on it. “God, this feels like a business deal,” he says, shaking his head, nearly taking the card back. “I can find a takeout menu or something, write my number on that instead.”

“No, this is good,” you laugh, and the guilt mixes with something strangely giddy when he kisses you goodbye.

When you get home, you wrap yourself in the flannel you’d taken from Joel, and weep. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t feel guilty, that Joel’s all the way across the country, that you two aren’t technically together to begin with, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest.

Your friend calls in the early afternoon, and when she hears the crack in your voice, she’s on your doorstep not thirty minutes later. You spill your guts — recount the story of you and Joel, show her the polaroid from the Fourth of July, tell her everything, until you’re crying on your couch again.

“Honey, maybe you should talk to him,” she tells you, and you know she’s right, but the idea of talking to Joel just makes your chest hurt more. “This isn’t good for either of you, holding on like this when you can’t be together. Talk to him.”

Joel beats you to the punch, calling you shortly after your friend has left. “Hey, finally got you instead of your voicemail.”

“Hah, yeah,” you reply, sinking a little deeper into the couch. “Sorry I keep missing you.”

“S’okay,” he mumbles, and it only hurts more when you can almost see him in your head, sitting on his couch or at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie, wiping the wet from your cheeks. “Just busy lately, y’know?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, then pauses. “You sure you’re okay?”

You inhale deeply, feeling the air rattle its way through your lungs. “Joel, I met someone.”

It’s a long moment, before he says anything, so long you think you’ve lost him for a second, that he hung up. But then, “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“No,” he says instantly, and you both let out watery laughs. “No, but it…It is good. You’re all the way out there and I’m here and…Missin’ you, not havin’ you around, it hurts, y’know?”

“I do,” you agree, biting into your lower lip when it wobbles. “I miss you too, Joel, it’s just—”

“I know, baby,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes your eyes slip shut, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I gotta go, I promised Sarah movie night. We’ll….we’ll talk soon, alright?” A pause. “Take care of yourself.”

The line goes dead for real then, and you launch your phone across the room, groaning when it lands on the carpet and doesn’t smash to pieces. You bury yourself in the pillows on the couch, and just cry.

Dean calls the following week, and asks you out to dinner. Dinner evolves into more than that, more dates and more conversation. He works two blocks down from you, and brings you coffee every morning on his way to his office. He takes you to museums and art galleries and introduces you to his friends. It’s easy to fall for him, and you let yourself do it. He kisses you at midnight on New Year’s, whispers that 2003 is going to be the best year of your lives.

You have no idea how wrong he will turn out to be.

+

It’s September 26th, 2003. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday.

It starts out like a normal day; as normal as it can be, lately. You’ve made a point to ignore the news as best you can, letting Dean recap it for you when he gets home each day, filling you in on the water cooler talk that you only half listen to.

Dean’s up and gone when you wake up, but there’s a birthday card beside your pillow, a cartoon cake with a silly face. You’re another year older… And the inside reads: and other year cuter! Happy Birthday! It’s cheesy and you scoff out a laugh, getting up and going about your morning routine. A fire truck screams down the road when you walk out of the building, cop cars trailing after it, but you think nothing of it; sirens are a common occurrence in the city.

It’s a short walk from your apartment — the apartment you now share with Dean, the pair of you having relocated somewhere that was closer to both your jobs — to work, and you stop by your favourite coffee shop, only slightly disappointed when they don’t have the raspberry scones you like. “It’s a supply chain thing,” the girl behind the counter tells you with a shrug. “They haven’t been able to get ingredients in for weeks. I’m just glad we have coffee.”

“That makes two of us,” you agree, taking your cup with a nod. “Have a good day!”

“You, too!”

There’s a big bouquet of roses waiting on your desk, the card signed with Dean’s name, and the other girls ooh and ahh at the arrangement. One of them asks you if you think he’ll propose, and you have to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.

Dean calls on your lunch break, tells you he’s already pre-ordered from your favourite Thai place, and it’ll be waiting for you when you get home from your post-work drinks with your friends. When he tells you he loves you, it still makes your chest ache, just a touch.

You still think about Joel. It’s hard not to. After that last call, when you told him you’d met Dean, you called back a few days later, unable to stop yourself. There were apologies, from both him and you, and the conversation ended with a promise that you’d still stay in touch, that it would still be friendly between you, and that maybe someday could be an option, if the time was right, but you wouldn’t stand in each other’s way.

So you’ve stayed in touch. The phone calls are still more sporadic than anything, but it’s always nice to hear his voice, and he always has a joke to crack. And, consistent Joel Miller, at the end of every phone call: “Take care of yourself, darlin’.”

You get a surprising amount of work done that day, your friends appearing at five o’clock on the dot and dragging you away from your computer. You let them buy you happy hour drinks and put a Birthday Princess tiara on your head, laugh your way through the evening until it’s almost nine. You thank you friends and leave the bar, and think as you walk past one of the little corner store grocery shops that you could really use a chocolate bar.

You’re walking down the toiletries aisle, the basket hanging from your elbow filled with not just chocolate, but a few other things you couldn’t resist, when your phone rings, an Austin area code flashing on the screen.

“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” Joel says by way of hello, and you giggle. “How have I known you this long and not known that you and I have the same birthday?”

“You never asked,” you answer, reaching for a tissue box with a fun pattern, “and it never came up, really. Wait, today’s your birthday too?”

“Thirty-six and still breathin’,” he confirms, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I stopped by the hardware store today for a few things, your dad told me.”

“Ahh.” Your parents had called you just before you’d left for work. “That store must be so boring without me in it.”

“It really is,” Joel agrees, and then his voice drops. “No one around to make out with in the aisles.” A beat, and then. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say quickly, shaking your head even though you know he can’t see it, the memory of being pressed between the shelves of paint cans and Joel Miller making your face heat. “It’s a good memory.”

“It is,” he agrees, making a little humming noise. “So, boyfriend got big plans for you tonight?”

“Thai food and a movie,” you tell him, grabbing a bottle of toilet cleaner. “Just left the bar, had some drinks with my work friends. Never really been a big birthday person, y’know?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, darlin’.”

“What about you, Joel Miller?” you ask, heading down the next aisle. A lot of the shelves are empty, and it makes your brow furrow. “What big birthday plans do you have this evening?”

“Hah, none,” he replies. “Working a double with Tommy, just took a break now. Told Sarah I’d be home by nine, but I don’t know if that’ll work out. They gave us the wrong size for the headers and…” He trails off. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“I’d listen to you read the phone book,” you joke. “At least get yourself a cake? Something like that? If I’d known we shared the same birthday I would have had my sister bring something over for you.”

“Sarah made me breakfast, got me out of bed on time. That’s all I need, really.”

“Is it?”

You don’t mean the question to sound as heavy as it does, and silence hangs between you for a long moment before you stutter out an apology. Joel’s quick to change the subject.

“Boyfriend is still your boyfriend, right? No ring on your finger yet?”

“You know, you’re the second person to bring that up today,” you say, heading down the next aisle. It’s just as empty as the one before, and your confusion deepens. “You want the truth?”

“Generally.”

“If he asked, I don’t think I’d say yes.” Heat rises in your face, and you stutter again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies, and there’s a softness in his tone that you recognize, making warmth spread through your chest. “I’m always here for you, darlin’. I know things are different now, but I’m still here.”

“I appreciate that.”

You hear Tommy’s voice in the background, and Joel curses under his breath. “I gotta go. Enjoy your night. Happy Birthday.”

“You, too. Happy Birthday, Joel,” you reply, a smile in your voice, and then the line clicks off.

You loop through the rest of the aisles, sliding your phone back into your pocket. When you ask the cashier about the empty shelves, you get the same answer you’d gotten at the coffee shop. “Supply chain issues.”

The apartment is quiet when you get inside, tossing your keys into the bowl beside the door. The Thai food is sitting on the counter, as promised, and you set your grocery bags down beside it, stealing a few noodles before calling for Dean. “Honey, I’m home!”

There’s no response, and you assume he must be in the shower, so you pad down the hall. The bedroom light is off, moonlight flooding through the window, and as you step into the doorway, you see him, standing there, facing the window. His hands are at his sides, and as you watch, his hand twitches, the movement making your brow furrow.

“Dean?” you call, taking a half-step forward. In an instant, something feels wrong, and worry rises in your chest, makes your heart racket against your ribs. “Babe, what’s going on?”

He turns then, so fast you can’t even blink before it happens. And he just…stares. There’s no light in his eyes, just a dead look that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You say his name again, the worry seeping into your voice, and then he snarls.

“Fuck.”

You don’t understand what’s happening, but your body seems to react of it’s own accord. Dean lunges toward you, an inhuman sound falling out of him, and your eyes skirt around, looking for something to protect yourself with as he scrambles over the bed, limbs flailing, those dead eyes boring into you. Your hand flashes out, curling around the leather-wrapped handle of the baseball bat, and as you’re knocked to the ground, you use it as a barrier, shoving the metal against his chest.

His face is all wrong. It’s not just the dead eyes; his teeth are yellowed and his gums blackened as he snaps at you, trying to claw at you. White marks have risen all over his face, spreading out like a map beneath his skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You manage to plant your foot on his chest, and shove with all your might, yelling as the movement makes your knees twinge. He doesn’t go far, but it’s enough to get him off of you, and you scramble backwards, throwing the door shut as you run for the kitchen, the bat held tightly in your grasp. Heart racing, you find the biggest knife you can in the kitchen, sucking down hurried breaths. You’re in shock.

There’s a flash of red outside the balcony door, and you turn to see flames explode from the building across from yours. On the streets below, cars start to crash into each other, the sound of sirens twice as loud. You can hear people screaming, even through the glass.

A loud bang pulls you back into the apartment, and you turn just as Dean comes sprinting down the hall, losing his balance and skidding across the carpet. You throw the kitchen knife as he lunges for you, but it misses, the blade bouncing off his chest and sliding beneath the coffee table. A guttural growl echoes through the apartment, and when he leaps at you, you swing.

Your first hit smacks his shoulder. It doesn’t do much, but he lets out a pained yowl and when you swing again, there’s a sickening crack. He swipes at you, lunging again as you stumble backwards through the living room, the couch toppling over as you both fall onto it. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you scream, pain radiating through your arm, but you tighten your grip on the bat and ram the end of it into his face.

Another growl, another swing. You manage to get to your feet, blood pouring down your arm, painting your blouse crimson, and you put the kitchen island between you and him, moving quickly, keeping the bat held high.

When he jumps again, you swing. Hard. The bat connects with his temple, his neck cracking loudly as his head snaps to the side, and he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. The metal rings as you drop the bat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor a moment later, blinding grabbing for one of the dishrags hanging from the stove, covering your shoulder with it and clamping your hand over the wound.

Why is this happening?

You’re not quite sure how long you’re sat there, curled against the cabinets. The bleeding on your shoulder slows, but doesn’t stop completely, and you’re starting to feel lightheaded. Not just the blood loss, you know, but the shock. Dean’s body has stopped twitching, but there’s something seeping out of his mouth, curling across the tile. When you spot the movement, you’re on your feet in a second, blinking past the momentary wooziness, grabbing the bat again.

When you click on the television, a loud beep echoes, nothing but a black screen, and you try to change the channel, but it’s the same on every one. Finally, the beep ends, and a robotic voice takes its place.

…indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions. Stay indoors…

Over and over again.

Your arm is pulsing, the rag on your shoulder wet with blood. You need to clean it, you think. You need some water, you need to—

The phone starts ringing. Your phone. Cell phone. Where you left it, in your purse. Your purse is by the door, across the apartment. You have to walk around Dean to get there, and you go slow, your eyes glued to his unmoving form. The bat is still in your hand, the end of it dragging over the carpet as you walk towards the door. Another metallic noise when it hits hardwood.

Your eyes are still on Dean as you dig in your purse, on the thing still coming out of his mouth, crawling along the grout lines in the tile. Out, out, out, you need to get out, you need to get away, you need to—

Your fingers close around your cell. Hit the button, bring it to your ear.

“Are you safe?” Joel barks, and you nearly drop the phone, the sound of his voice slamming you back into your head, your breath hitching so hard you almost choke. “Baby, where are you?”

“Home,” you cry, leaning against the wall, gripping the bat so hard your knuckles hurt. “I-I got home and Dean, he just…he…I…” You wheeze, your breath not enough, your head feeling lighter, your vision spotting with black. “He’s dead. I’m bleeding.”

“It’s everywhere,” he says, his voice low, and he keeps talking, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. You space out, your gaze glued to the body on your floor, until Joel says your name. “Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

“He…” you trail off, your eyes focusing on Dean’s bloody knuckles, limp on the kitchen floor. “He grabbed me, he…he was trying to bite me.”

“Did he?”

“No,” you say, your voice sounding a bit more sure. You shake your head, pressing your palm against your shoulder. The pain spikes, but it helps, clears your head a bit. “It’s a scratch. Deep.”

“You need to clean it, you hear me?” Joel says. “Patch yourself up, baby, all right? You have a first aid kit?”

You drop the bat, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead. You’re shaking. “In the bathroom.”

“Good, go, do it now. I’m not hanging up until you do.”

You reach for the bat again, use it as a prop to get back to your feet. You cast Dean’s still form one more glance before retreating down the hallway. He’d burst through the bedroom door, and wood splinters cover the floor, the door still half on its hinge, split down the middle.

“Joel, why is this happening?” you ask, your voice climbing, fear taking over. You get into the bathroom, momentarily shaken by your appearance in the mirror. Your hair wild, the blood smeared along your chest and neck, your stained and torn blouse. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, and the thread of fear in his voice makes tears spring in your eyes. “But I want you to listen to me, okay? You patch yourself up, you grab what you can, and you run. You understand? Get in your car and get out of the city, as fast as you can. You don’t wait, you don’t stop for anyone, and you just keep going.”

You nod for a moment before you realize he can’t see you. “Okay. What do I…?”

“I’ll find you, baby,” he says, and the surety in his voice makes everything in you ache. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m—”

Static. Dead air. Gone.

“Joel? No, come back, Joel, please—” You stare at the phone, try to redial the number, hit the button over and over and over and over. No signal, the screen informs you.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, the rapid pulse against your ribs, the breaths that seem to rattle through your lungs. Outside of that, silence.

You slam the phone down, slam your hands against the bathroom sink.

“Joel!”

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[iamnotoriginalphil]

First of all, I love your blog so much!! Your creative skills are amazing!! 🤩🤩🤩 If you still accept requests, I was wondering if you could do femreader x larissa where reader is a teacher at Nevermore. Reader is smart and funny around everybody else but reallyyy really clumsy and sheepish around her. She is very insecure and thinks she is making a fool of herself but Larissa finds her adorable and loves her innocence so she starts subtle flirting (reader of course is oblivious) until they confess their deep feelings for each other.

Anyway, lots of thanks for your great fics!!!! You've made me really happy!

Confessions of deep feelings or confessions of something else? You tell me, Anon, you tell me.

“And so he said, ‘the cow’s in the other field’.”

The group around you began laughing and you let a satisfied grin slide over your face. First day back and you knew you had plenty of stories to tell. The staff room was a buzz of activity during lunch as everyone caught up after the holidays.

You swept your eyes over the room, pausing on the impressive figure just coming through the doorway. You stumbled into the wall, despite having been standing still. The group laughed again and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Well, Weems is in the room,” one of them said, nudging the person beside them with their elbow.

“Shut up,” you hissed.

“Sounds like you’re all having a good first day back.”

You slipped a bit down the wall, turning to find Larissa grinning down at your little group. You averted your eyes again, trying to straighten up. Somehow you managed to knock your mug into an elbow and spill hot coffee down your leg. You stared at it for a moment before just sighing and walking out to go get changed.

“I think I prefer these trousers,” Larissa said when you passed her in the hall at the end of the day, “they really accentuate your figure.”

You mumbled something and hurried off, foot catching on your own ankle, making you stumble against the corner. You caught yourself, and hurried off, her low chuckle following you as you fled from her presence.

“This hairstyle is rather lovely,” she said after the next week’s meeting, causing you to drop your pen under the table.

“I like the way this colour looks on you,” she told you after a planning meeting for the Poe Cup, which led to you choking on the water you’d just taken a sip of.

“This is an incredibly flattering dress,” she informed you, fingers trailing over your shoulder on a Saturday afternoon. You made a small squeaking noise.

“You look radiant in this light,” she complimented as you stood overlooking the students swimming in the lake. Her hand caught you to stop you slipping into the water, her warm chuckle lingering in your ears.

“Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” she murmured when you passed her a cup of coffee, fingers brushing together. You sputtered, cheeks heating up as she smiled at you serenely over the lip of the cup.

“Such clever fingers,” she whispered into your ear after stumbling across you with your violin. The bow slipped out of your fingers and your breath caught. Her eyes twinkled at you as she slipped away.

“She’s driving me crazy,” you confessed one day to one of your friends over lunch in your classroom, “she keeps saying these things.”

“Things like she wants to tear your clothes off with her teeth?” they asked and you knew they were laughing at you.

“I’m going out of my mind,” you replied, ignoring the way they were laughing at you.

“You always have with her,” they replied, “you once choked on a potato because she walked past.”

“I’ve done worse than that,” you groaned, head thunking down on the table in front of you.

“Are you torturing my little pet?” Warm hands landed on your shoulders and you shot up.

You almost fell as you got out of your seat, spinning around to look at the woman towering over you. She was so close you felt you had to press back against the table just to see her face.

“No torturing,” your friend said, “although I’m sure you could increase her pleasure.”

You shot your a friend a look asking them what they were doing. They grinned before disappearing, leaving you with the subject of all your fantasies.

“Do you need some help with pleasure?” she asked, lips quirking up.

“Uh…” Your cheeks were hot enough to fry an egg on, “no?”

“Are you sure?” She took half a step closer, really pressing you against the table then. All you could do was thank god no one was around.

You reached up, grabbing her around the back of the neck, and pulled her in. Your lips landed on hers inelegantly but the way her hands landed either side of your hips on the table had you moaning already. Her body was completely pressed against yours and you were gasping into her mouth as she kissed you with a skill you’d only suspected her of.

You lifted yourself onto the table, her hands already landing on your knees, pulling them apart to step between. You wanted to bury your fingers in her hair as her own fingers began to flirt with the hem of your skirt. Her tongue was making your heady dizzy.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” she groaned as her lips began to trail down to your neck. Your head fell back, wanting to give her all the access possible.

“Rissa,” you moaned, “fuck, Rissa.”

“Love my name in your mouth,” she mumbled.

Her teeth scraped against your pulse point, tongue soothing over it. You whimpered and her groan was loud in your ear.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admitted as her hands began to creep up your thigh.

“I know, baby girl,” she whispered into your skin, “me too.”

Something crashed in one of the halls leading into your office. You jerked back, head turning to try and see if your door was open. Thundering footsteps were growing closer. Larissa pulled back from you, thumb swiping over your lower lip.

“Might want to clean off the lipstick before your next lesson,” she said, and then she was gone, heels clicking away.

You took a deep breath, heart beating fast and throbbing between your legs. You’d find her after class and finish what you’d started.

[autumntouched]

Day 15 of Ode to Phoenix

Summary: Natasha and her college roommate are reunited to be a pain in Hangman's designated driver's ass

Pairings: Potential Jake "Hangman" Seresin x O/C

Warnings: Lots of alcohol consumed

A/N: This is just pure tequila fueled fun. AU Phoenix and Hangman from my other fics. I was playing around with a spy-ish thriller idea where Phoenix's friend is kidnapped in the course of her work, Phoenix and Hangman fly the rescue, but tabled the story. Here's where it started/what's left.

Taz and Laz

It was on another tequila fueled night during college that Taz and Laz were born, the christening of Natasha’s lifelong friendship with her best friend and roommate Layla. But on their current tequila bender, they’ve exchanged their college dorm room for The Hard Deck. 

It’s been over a year since they’ve seen one another, but it’s as if no time has passed since they spent nearly every single day together. They’re catching up, dancing and singing along to the jukebox selections, and collapsing into one another with laughter. It feels so good to let loose for both of them. 

Laz pulls herself out of Natasha’s arms, wiping the tears of laughter from her cheeks, and waves Penny down for another round. 

While they wait, Laz leans her elbow on the bar and looks over toward the pool table. “Taz, I think it’s about time we showed these boys what a real game of pool looks like,” she says. 

Natasha looks over and smirks, seeing exactly what caught her friend’s eye. The guys are strutting around the table, leaning into their shots like they're playing a high stakes tournament for money. They’re not as good as they think they look. Laz is ready to step all over some egos. 

There’s a lot people probably can’t tell about Laz at first glance. “It’s funny,” she’d once told Natasha, “it often feels like I’m invisible when my hair is curly. But as soon as I straighten it, suddenly everything changes. Makes me a good spy, doesn’t it?” And she’s probably the closest person Natasha knows to a spy. Behind the cat-like almond shaped eyes is a sharp, analytical mind used to assess and track down some of the world’s most elusive cyber terrorist threats. She tells everyone that she works in government relations for a tech company. 

Her father retired as a Navy admiral and all night Hangman jumps every time one of the senior officers approaches them, thinking they are about to be reprimanded for their increasingly raucous laughter, only for the captains and admirals to grab Laz into a hug and ask about her family or give her an update on their kids. To his astonishment, and Natasha notes how rare it is to make Hangman’s jaw drop, she doesn’t always bother with ranks. 

“Do you know who that was?” he asks stupidly after one of them walks off.

“I changed his four of his children’s diapers for five dollars an hour,” Laz shrugs. “I don’t worry about those things unless I have to.”

Penny arrives, tequila in hand and a warning with her pour. “I’m cutting you off soon, Layla, before I have to answer to your dad tomorrow.”

Laz throws her head back and laughs. “Ms. Benjamin we both know the one you’d really have to answer to is my mom.” 

Natasha snorts, in on the joke. Laz’s dad might be the admiral but her mother is the rules and appearances bound stickler. 

“It’s ‘Penny’,” Penny reminds her with a fond smile. “You make me feel my age.”

“You know her too?” Hangman demands, looking between them. 

“Penny knows what my umbilical cord looked like,” Laz smiles. “Which is why I’m never getting used to calling you by your first name.” 

Hangman is along for this ride as their designated driver. There aren’t many places Laz can let her hair down these days, and a Navy bar might be one of them. They’re too old for the shenanigans of their younger years, but Natasha doesn’t plan for either of them to be able to drive by the end of the night.

“Taz,” Laz nods solemnly, holding up her recently filled shot glass. 

“Laz,” Natasha salutes. They clink their glasses, touch them to the bar, then throw them back. No lime, salt, or chaser. Laz smacks her lips and checks the pool table again.

“Ready?” she asks, five shots and a moscow mule in.

Natasha grins. “Ready.” 

They slide off their bar stools, the alcohol hitting them full force when they finally stand. Natasha sways before she gets her footing. 

“Whoa,” giggles Laz, draping her arm over Natasha’s shoulders. With their height difference, it’s something she only accomplishes in the tall heeled boots she’s wearing. “This is gonna be a game.”

For once, Hangman inserts himself as the responsible voice of reason. “Maybe you two should go for a round of water instead of pool.”

Laz juts her pointed chin at him. “They’re going to think we’re drunk. We’re winning this one.”

“Definitely winning,” Natasha giggles. 

Hangman looks at her like she’s grown a second head. He’s likely never seen her like this, the carefree happy-go-lucky Taz side of her. Which is ironic, since alone, Laz is far from carefree or happy-go-lucky. She’s one of the most intense people Natasha knows. 

Arms draped around one another, Natasha and Laz saunter over to the game. Natasha negotiates their way in, the guys eyeing them for an easy win. Hangman practically slaps his forehead when Laz names their offer. 

“Why would you let her do that?” he demands when Laz holds her hand out for the cue stick. “I’m not sure she took a straight step over here.”

Natasha smirks. “Watch this.”

Laz examines the table then hefts the cue stick in her hand. And suddenly, she’s laser focused and steady. She pockets the ball neatly, not an ounce of force wasted. Hangman and the guys look like they’re reassessing the competition. 

“Show ‘em what you got, Taz,” Laz cheers when Natasha’s up. 

The other thing people can’t tell about Laz at first glance? Her electives in college included viticulture and the mathematical theory of pool, and she had a habit of multitasking her assignments. Natasha was at first her reluctant opponent until, eventually, it became a regular ritual for them. Laz liked to call it “Wine and Balls.”

They crush the game, only a challenge because they’re so far into the tequila. The guys shake their hands with new appreciation and Laz collects. She goes back to the bar for another shot. Instead of returning to where Natasha and Hangman are waiting for her, though, she heads to the bathroom. But she comes back not long after. “There’s a line,” she announces, brow furrowed.

Natasha has an inkling of where this is going. “Laz, you’re too old to do that.” Laz stands quietly for a moment, head tilted. Then shrugs and heads for the patio. “Wait!” Natasha chases her down.

“What’s she doing?” Hangman asks, hurrying to keep up as they dodge patrons in Laz’s marching wake. 

They follow her out onto the beach, her figure wobbling into the darkness. She glances over her shoulder once and waves them back toward The Hard Deck.

“Fuck,” Natasha sighs. There’s no point in stopping her now. 

In the distance, barely visible from where they’re standing, Laz pauses by a cluster of beach brush. She kicks at the sand with her foot for a few moments. Then kicks at it again. She looks around one last time to make sure Natasha’s the only one watching then crouches out of sight. 

She’s gone for maybe a minute before she straightens and wipes her hand on her jeans then across her mouth. Laz kicks at the sand again. She takes a swig of the tequila shot then spits it out. After several rinses, she heads back.

Natasha crosses her arms. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she scolds when Laz is within hearing range. “You have a doctorate degree now.”

Hangman glances down at her. “Did she just boot and rally?” 

“Yes.”

“And rinse her mouth with tequila?”

Laz is close enough to hear. “What? Do you have mouthwash, Bagman?” she calls. "Sue me, I'm resourceful."

She manages to get to them without breaking an ankle walking through the sand in her shoes. “I think I’ve got another game in me and then we should probably get food.” 

“No, we’re getting food now,” Hangman decides.

Laz looks at Natasha. “Game or food?”

“That wasn’t up for a vote!” Hangman protests. 

“If we wanted a babysitter,” Laz complains, “we would have invited Rooster.”

Natasha admires her friend’s ability to be absolutely wasted, only partially informed about Hangman and Rooster’s dynamic, and still fire an absolute bullseye.

“Game,” Natasha agrees smugly, just to mess with him and see what he does. 

He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a quarter. “Heads we play pool, tails we play darts,” he offers. 

Laz catches her lip with interest. These are the stakes she likes. “Who makes the call?”

“I’ll let you, if you ask nicely,” he suggests.

Natasha does a double take. Is he flirting now? With her best friend? 

“Heads,” Laz decides. “Please.” 

Hangman flips the coin and palms it onto the back of his hand. They all lean in for the result. He groans and Laz snaps. “Looks like another game of pool, Bagman.”

She loops her arm through Natasha’s and waves for him to follow. “Do you really want to play another game?” Laz whispers as they make their way back to the pool table. 

Natasha confesses she did it just to annoy Hangman. 

“Oh good,” Laz sighs. “Me too. I want tacos or pho.” 

Hangman’s not sure whether to look annoyed or relieved when they announce that they’ve reconsidered and are ready to go.

By the time he pulls up to Natasha’s townhouse after tacos, Laz is passed out across the armrest in the back. To her surprise, he turns off the car and gets out with her. 

“I’ve got her,” Natasha promises.

“This is easier.” He opens the door and coaxes Laz awake enough to lift her into his arms. She curls into his chest. "You know, your personality sometimes really gets in the way of how hot you could be. Just saying."

Jake looks stunned, and Natasha snickers. "Maybe something to consider there, dickhead."

He scowls at her. "Geez, Phoenix, do you complain about me to all of your friends?"

"I have an amazing support system," she grins.

She can't wait to tell Laz what way too honest thought fell out of her mouth while drunk. Of course, Laz is the kind of person who wouldn't say anything drunk that she wouldn't be willing to stand by sober. The only difference is how diplomatic she is about it.

Natasha leads the way to her apartment. She throws a sheet and pillow onto the sofa for her friend, knowing that Laz will wake up at some point and get herself ready for bed. Or sleep until the morning and change her clothes then. Hangman sets her down gently. 

“Are we home?” Laz murmurs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. 

She struggles to sit up. “My pillowcase,” she mumbles. 

“Her what?” he asks Natasha who goes to her bag and rifles around until she finds the satin fabric. 

“For her hair,” Natasha explains. 

He props Laz up against him while she fixes the pillow for her friend. “Thanks, Jake,” Laz sighs before drifting off to sleep again. 

Not that she’ll remember, but it’s suddenly "Jake"? Huh, this could get very interesting. And maybe there are some things her friend won't be willing to stand by in the soberness of the morning.

Ode to Phoenix Masterlist

[trishmishtree]

ugh

idk if I blogged about this before, but a little over 1 month ago, I was getting ready for work one morning when I swiveled out of my desk chair, and my knee happened to get caught on the sharp edge of the metal drawer handle on my desk. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, since I’d already scraped myself on that same handle like 2 other times and they were no big deal. But then I went to the bathroom to clean my knee, maybe put a bandaid over it...and that was when I noticed it wasn’t a scrape, it was an actual open gash...and there was blood on the floor.

Now, as a PCP, I am admittedly a Bad Patient. I haven’t seen my PCP since before I graduated med school, and the last time I went and got seen for anything acute was when my cat bit me in 2020 (bc you don’t fool around with puncture wounds from cat bites, get that shit on antibiotics ASAP). So I was prepared to clean the cut and then slap a bandaid on it and go to work. I had a full morning of office patients to see, didn’t want to be late to work, etc etc. But the cut on my knee was a little longer than a bandaid could cover properly, and it happened to be on the extensor surface of the knee, which meant that the skin would be under tension every time I bent my knee (which is a lot of times, because walking and stuff), which would result in the wound reopening with every step I take. All of which was to say I diagnosed myself with Laceration That Needs Stitches. So I had no choice but to call off work, wrap my knee in gauze to stop the bleeding, and hobble to my car and drive to urgent care, where they promptly agreed I needed stitches.

That should have been the end of the story, except that for the first few days I didn’t want to bend my knee because, again, that puts tension on the affected area of skin, and I didn’t want the wound to re-open or the stitches to tear out. So to keep my knee straight, I wrapped it in Coban, which is a latex-containing self-adhering bandage that doesn’t actually contain any actual adhesive but just sticks to itself. You know, this stuff:

Funny enough, the Coban the urgent care gave me to go home with was actually a near-perfect match for my skin tone, so when I went back to work later that morning, most people wouldn’t have guessed anything had happened if they didn’t see me limping around. The Coban helped keep my knee straight, but I was still able to bend it a little bit. This becomes a problem. Not for the front of my knee where the laceration and sutures were, but for the back of the knee where the Coban would bunch up and dig into my skin whenever I bent my knee.

As the days went by, I noticed that the back of my knee (the part that was bunched against the Coban dressing) was starting to get itchier and itchier. I thought it was just from the pressure of the bandage partially cutting off circulation to the skin in that area, so I loosened the Coban when I redressed the area. But the itching persisted, so I switched to a cotton gauze wrapping, with an Ace wrap over that. But by then, I had already developed a contact dermatitis rash on the back of my knee. So then I had to get hydrocortisone to put on the back of my knee to treat the contact dermatitis, in addition to the Bactroban I was putting on the laceration to keep it from getting infected. Apparently I must have developed a latex allergy at some point during my medical career, so that’s no more Coban for me.

Anyway, that was a month ago, and the laceration has mostly healed (it’s a bright red, slightly hypertrophied scar now) but I STILL HAVE A RASH ON THE BACK OF THE KNEE. Most of the initial rash has resolved, but there were a couple spots that kept itching. I didn’t want to keep applying the hydrocortisone for longer than 2 weeks (because side effects with prolonged use), so I stopped after the first 2 weeks. But the itching persisted. So I put a (latex-free) bandaid over the itchy spots to stop myself from scratching them open.

But now I have a new contact dermatitis rash over the parts of the back of my knee where the sticky parts of the bandaid had been. So apparently now I’m allergic to adhesive too? But only on that knee? Since I’ve put bandaids on elsewhere since the drawer handle incident, and haven’t had an issues anywhere else??? What the fuck.

[patronsaintofmath]

i wish old man daniel was my grandpa or smth. i wish i could go hiking w him more & listen to his anecdotes & i wanna make him laugh. when i went hiking w him at corbett lake it was just the two of us in the car for the most part (about 4 hours total) & i was worried i’d be awkward or too boring for him but he loves to talk & i prefer to listen so he talked the entire ride & im so grateful for that. when we drove back to the city, i didn’t even want to leave the car i kinda just wanted to keep listening to his stories. we don’t know each other that well. in fact, we’ve only gone hiking 4 times together. but each time i’ve carpooled w him & have hiked right by his side. i think it’s funny that every time we go back to the city, i fall asleep while he drives. it makes me feel like a little kid 😭. also when he sprayed bug spray on me & brought me my sandals. that made me feel like a little kid. also i just appreciate that he didn’t accept the beer bc i was in the car w him & he was gonna drive. so he was being safe. when we were in the car he talked about his family. he told me about his abusive mother & his sister’s passing. & he asked me if i knew anyone w an addiction & i told him my father’s an alcoholic & we just shared a bit more about our family & i don’t know i think we got to know each other a bit better. he sometimes has his senior moments where he talks smack about tHe neW gEnERatiOn & how he quit his teaching jobs bc he hates kids. so sometimes i’m like damn does he hate me 😭??? but other times i think this could be good for us. i didn’t have a relationship with either of my grandfathers & old man daniel didn’t have kids or nieces/nephews. so i don’t know i think we could complement each other in that way. i learn a lot from him. i may not have much to contribute but maybe i can teach him something in the future. hopefully i see him again. i go back to my studies in two days. i’ll be busy every weekday w my studies & work. usually old man daniel goes hiking during the week bc there’s too much traffic (vehicles & humans) on weekends. so maybe i won’t see him until next semester or maybe even next summer. that kinda bums me out. in fact, i’m a little sad. i know i just met him two months ago. but maybe i just really want an older male figure in my life. i forgot to tell him not to die when i said bye to him. the neat thing is we have each other on social media now. he even shared his playlist w me 😭 i think he does this w everyone bc he LOVES to talk with everyone. i’m pretty sure he has some form of adhd & i even told him & he thinks he does too but more specifically Add. he took a fire pic of me like w my back turned & im facing the lake we hiked to. it was cool. typing this is making me tear up for some reason. I DONT EVEN KNOW THE MAN LIKE THAT. what if he does think i’m annoying. it’s very probable. there’s tears now. maybe i’m just mourning what could have been. i had even said to my friends that old man daniel & i were like the old man & the kid in the movie Up. now i’m sad. this’ll pass. i felt this way w my priest. as you’ll see there’s a pattern here. i get attached to adults who’s company i enjoy & who i learn from & who make me feel better. but you know what im just happy that i know this old man. it’s ok that im shedding tears. as long as it’s not in front of anyone bc then i’ll just seem crazy & delusional. only i understand why i’m sad. i do miss old man daniel & i don’t know how to deal w that.

some stuff he’s told me so i won’t forget: he had a sister, josefina. she passed away when she was 30 from lupus. he likes 60’s music the most but he also listens to grunge like alice in chains, nirvana, & pearl jam. he’s got a collection of rocks. he also takes a bunch of pictures of everything & everywhere he goes. he downloads the pictures onto his computer when he gets home. he’s always liked to hike & camp & backpack since he was a teenager.

i’ll add more about him.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

racer!sapnap road head pog¿

pog.

this is kind of a subchapter ig bc nothing really happens to continue on the story but I figured I'd give it to you anyway :) im so down bad for him it’s embarrassing. if you know me irl no you don't 

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐒𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩

pairing: street racer!Sapnap x fm!reader

cw: oral (m. receiving), thigh riding, degradation (slightly), spit cum and rock and roll, language, semi-public sex, sir kink?, okay shut up its just filth tbh

wc: ~2380

collaborative playlist (add your songs :))

previous part

Sapnap ran his fingers through his dark hair, moving to rest his arm along the back of the bench seat, his hand brush against your shoulder softly. His other hand settled lazily on the thin steering wheel after turning up the radio a few notices. You swirled your tongue against the strawberry sucker between your lips, trying to quell the burning frustration you felt at his words.

“Suck on this and be a good girl while I’m on the phone,” he had said, answering his ringer after pushing the treat into your mouth.

He’d hung up the phone at least ten minutes prior yet you were still pouting at his nipping, cocky tone as you took the candy without sassing him. Sapnap never drove cars that were as old as the one you were in now, but he had asked you to tag along during one of his deliveries for his boss. You were curious which vehicle you would be swapping the tank for but, at the same time, you appreciated the bench seat and the airflow from the open windows.

Despite its age, the leather seats and detailing made it feel like the two of you were in some kind of old gangster movie, even though Sapnap was only in jeans and a t-shirt.

You slid across the seat, tucking yourself against his side as he wrapped his arm around you. You pulled your knees to your chest and he pressed his lips against your temple, stepping on the gas a bit more as he sped down the road. Your hand moved to rest on his thigh, slowly sliding your hand down the inside of his leg. You could see him smirking out of the corner of your eye as if to dare you to continue.

He started to hum to the radio as your nails raked down the denim, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He seemed to not be affected by your antics but you noticed his knuckles flush white as he gripped onto the steering wheel, giving away his subtle restraint.

You leaned back slightly, pulling the sucker from your mouth as his eyes darted to you before you stuck it in his mouth. “Hold this for me,” you muttered, watching as his teeth bit down on the stick as you palmed him through his jeans. Your other hand ran into his hair as his hold on the steering wheel tightened, his lips curling into a small smirk.

You sat off of him for a split second, tying your hair back as he shook his head with a small chuckle, forcing his eyes to remain glued to the road ahead of you. You pressed your lips to his neck, unbuttoning his pants and slipping your hand into his boxers, earning a groan from him. “Can I suck on something else to keep quiet?” You joshed softly as he shifted to give you a better angle. He inhaled sharply as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

You moved to sit with your knees against the leather, his hand hooking around your ponytail as you pumped your hand over his length, earning a moan from him. You looked up at him with what doe-eyes you could muster, attempting to hide the lust and deviousness behind your antics. He looked down briefly at you as he shifted gears lazily. “Am I going to be too distracting?” You asked, realizing he had stopped at a red light. He barely shook his head, sending a small wave to whoever was in the car beside the two of you.

You dug your teeth into his thigh and his fingers slipped beneath your ponytail, knotting in your locks as you quickened your hand. You moaned as he tugged at your hair, pushing yourself closer to his lap as the car began to move again. You were thankful he was a smooth driver or you would be thrown to the floorboards. That goes without saying that he wouldn’t slam on the breaks if you tried any funny business.

He pressed his shoulders against his seat, a low groan grumbling from his chest as his arousal grew in your hand. You pressed your lips against his tip, letting your tongue tease his sensitive skin. You pushed him into your mouth, gauging his size as you bobbled your head over his cock slowly, not yet taking him completely. The rush of power pulsed through your veins as he throbbed at your touch, your tongue swirling against what you could reach of his shaft.

His hand moved from its rough grip on your hair to rest in the crook of your neck, seemingly wanting to feel your throat straining to please him. You pulled off of him, swallowing as your hand bobbed against the slickness of your spit and his precum. He made a turn, hand steady as if you weren’t pressing your elbows into the expensive leather and literally stroking his ego.

You licked your lips, regretting your lipstick choice as you saw it smeared against your hand and his cock, despite the fact that you had only just begun. You took him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks the best you could as your hand moved in tandem with the song. His thumb brushed against the back of your neck softly in quiet gratefulness of your work. Your tongue swirled designs against his dick as you attempted not to choke on him.

You felt him shiver as you moaned around him. “Baby, just like that,” he cooed. “You’re taking me so well. My good girl.” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, teeth still holding the sucker as his eyes flashed between you in his lap and the road in front of him. Heat spiked through your body at his praise, the flush that was already there from the temperature in the car adding to the warmth between your legs.

You took him further down your throat, slipping him between your lips as you pulled off before taking a few centimeters more as you repeated. You were hell-bent on your mouth reaching his base, already tasting the worship he would give you as you did so. Your spit leaked against your hand, making your descent easier as your eyes watered from the pressure on your throat.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he moaned, his hips tensing under you as he struggled not to buck into your mouth. Your tongue curled against his shaft, sucking him harder. The taste of him was beginning to overpower that of the lollipop as he strained against finishing, his cock hard in your mouth and hand. Tears striped down your cheeks as you held him in the back of your throat before bobbing your head back, his hot pleasure coating the back of your throat as he let out a low moan of your name.

You realized then that he had stopped. You pumped him a few more times, earning a snide comment from him as you looked at your slick hand wrapped around him and the damage that you had done. Before you could sit up, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. “Nuh-uh. Clean me up,” he commanded, his dominance sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body as you readily heeded to his demand, licking up what you could as if was the elixir of life.

You sat up, crawling over to straddle one of his legs and pulling the bare stick from between his teeth, tossing it out of the window. You pressed your lips against his hungrily, his arm wrapping around your waist to drag you against his denim-clad thighs. His other slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, nails biting into the flesh of your legs. The taste of him blended with the artificial strawberry flavoring as his tongue pressed into your mouth with a moan.

You rolled your hips against his legs, letting the friction swim into your thoughts as you broke the kiss. Your hand wrapped around his cock again, stirring up his arousal once more. His cheeks were flushed with a soft pink as a result of the hot summer day and what you were doing to him. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin to show how much you belonged to him. You tilted your head to give him more space, moaning his name softly as his hand moved with your hips encouraging you to get off.

You sped up the pace of your hand, making him groan against your skin as he stiffened. His voice was deep and velvety in your ear as he wrapped himself around you. His tongue pressed against your neck, the breeze from the windows reaching into ghost against his marks. He bounced his knee as if dead set on getting you off before him as you ground against him like a horny teenager. “You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?” He bit, menacingly as you let out an almost pornographic moan at the friction. His arm tightened around you, driving you further up his leg as your thumb swirled over his tip, collecting what you could of his cum and dragging it down his length.

You tugged your lip between your teeth, your other hand threading your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly. “I’m your good little slut? Am I making you feel that good, sir?” You teased, stifling a moan in his t-shirt as he lapped at your collarbones, chasing the high you were bringing him to with your hand again.

His teeth nipped threateningly against your skin. “Fuck, don’t berate me while you’re riding my thigh,” he nearly growled. As if proving some kind of point, his hips jutted into your hand, driving against you harder as you whimpered at the feeling between your legs.

His hand dipped beneath the stitching at the slightly ruffled bottom of your shirt, fingers digging into your skin to leave more of his markings. You were lucky he would be the only one seeing those placements besides you. You couldn’t imagine how it would be for someone else to see the various teeth lines and bruises. He probably felt the same after you always littered his body in your makeup and nail marks. “Would you rather me be more vulgar?” You mustered, voice uneven and needy as you shamelessly thrust your hips against his leg. You felt his cock throb again, his second orgasm easier to conjure than the first as his face flushed at the stimulation.

He moved one of his hands to tug at your sleeve, pressing his lips against your freshly exposed skin. “Tell me what you want instead,” he groaned. “You look so cute. I wanna hear you whine like the little slut I know you are,” he muttered darkly.

“I want you to cum all over my hand,” you moaned, digging your face into his shirt. “I want you to make a mess of me. Please, sir,” you whined. His hand moved from your arm to the crook of your neck again, tugging your lips to crash against his in a burn of neediness. You moaned at the taste of strawberry still on his lips, dragging yourself against his leg as he bounced his knee, making your climax spark through you without warning. As your hips stuttered against him, your hand pulsed around his cock. Swallowing your whimpering moans, Sapnap came, his sticky finish painting your hand again as he groaned.

You leaned against the hood of the car, watching as Sapnap and an unknown man discussed prices that Sapnap’s boss was asking for. You popped the gum in your mouth, finding that you would much rather be tasting Sapnap on your tongue as he crossed his arms. The man handed him an envelope of cash, which he flipped through easily as if he had done the task millions of times over.

The man flashed a toothy grin at you as you tucked your hands behind your back, looking small compared to Sapnap’s frame. Sultry images flipped through your head knowing that Sapnap looked like he could break you over his knee. “That pretty thing come with the Mercury?” The man asked. While you were busy gushing over Sapnap, you hadn’t realized the man was sizing you up like some kind of meat.

You wrinkled your nose as if to question his sincerity. Without looking up from the envelope, Sapnap chimed, “Make a comment like that again and I’ll drag you behind the ‘65 Catalina by your intestines.” His voice was even and deadpanned, making your eyebrows raise as you bit back a sardonic grin. The man closed his mouth into a tight-lipped frown as Sapnap barely looked up to toss him the keys to the car the two of you had brought.

He turned, stuffing the envelope into his pocket and gesturing two fingers for you to follow him. As you jogged to join his side, he wrapped an arm around you, sliding his hand into your back pocket as the man yelled a defeated salutation after the two of you. “I’m not letting anyone talk to you like a toy,” Sapnap bit, sending you a smug grin.

You almost stripped out of your shorts for him there, yet instead, let him tuck you to his side. “You talk to me like I’m a toy, Sap,” you quipped back, disguising the fact that you secretly liked it. His confidence and the ease he had at defending you had your head spinning.

He chuckled darkly. The two of you approached another vehicle, a sleek, black Corvette gleaming at you as he opened the passenger door. He leaned his arms against the open window frame as you slid inside. He closed the door behind you. “That’s because you’re mine to play with. Not Bumfuckville Kenny,” he leered back, bringing a blush to your cheeks before he pressed his lips to yours briefly. “I treat you like a lady when you’re not begging for my cock, anyway,” he clarified with a cocky tone, sending you a wink before walking around the front of the car, leaving you hot and worked up again.

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

im going to try to have a separate list from regular Sapnap pretty soon, so make your accommodations :)

@bobbyftmydad @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @deepestofwaters @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy  @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @simpforblockguys @alm334 @valkyrieidunn @idiotinnit @generallysleepdeprived @sacvf @phsychopathetic @pixelbxtch @froggerrrr @ribbitsworld @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @victoria-a567 @miiilliiee @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @carlyferrell @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @quivvyintheclouds @sarcasticmichelle @book-of-anarchy @lightdreamy @furiouspockettoad @baddiesforcorpse @b00bm1lk @sunnynapp @fantasy-innit @wreny24 @thewintersoldier25 @setsunaisprouts @cdizzlevalntyne @jarofbumblebees @lightdreamy @sacvf @kiritokunuwu @sunnynapp @stxrryb1tch @rat-poisin @driverpicksthe-music @hiccupofttea @honk-izzie-was-taken @wreny24 @thewintersoldier25 @deepestofwaters @fratbro69 @exenestea @glowstick-cafe @indecisivehusky @simpforblockguys @fallxnly @twist3dtinkerbell @karlkitten @dolcesnightmare

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:  I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends. 

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased. 

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly. 

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll. 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone. 

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

 Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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

Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times. 

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his. 

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off. 

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it. 

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this. 

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

 And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further. 

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded. 

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!” 

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously. 

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

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[thera-daydreams]

INDAY

± A Trese Fic ±

[Crispin/Basilio/Maliksi/Dominic x Skymaiden!Reader]

01: Noon at Ngayon (✓)

02: Ang Kambal na Anak ni Datu Talagbusao, Diyos ng Digmaan (Link)

03: Ang Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang (Link)

04: Ang Pinuno ng Mga Aswang (Link)

05: (Link) 06: (Link) 07: (Link)

01: Noon at Ngayon

Back then, long before you were born, your mother used to work as a katulong of the Trese Family and was very close to its matriarch, Miranda Trese. Coming from the province, she was no stranger to superstitions—even more so after knowing the work of Miranda's husband Anton Trese, who was actually the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila.

Years later, after giving birth to you around the same time Miranda gave birth to her twins (one a stillborn, unfortunately), it was you and Alexandra who became best buddies instead, as different your personalities were. You two had practically grown up together and you yourself heard countless stories of the supernatural from your Tito Anton. It wasn't that hard to believe when he and his sigbin companions would sometimes come home tracking blood prints on the floors (which you'd helped your mother clean up). Heck, you'd even met Señor Armanaz, the Great Stallion himself and the ruling tikbalang of the Armanaz herd. That pretty, white-haired diwata seemed extremely fond of you, too, which was evident when you'd sneak in with Alexandra to Tito Anton's meetings and she would smile (even wave) at you happily.

You had absolutely no idea why the fae-like lady was so nice to you, but you weren't complaining at all!

However, in spite of your experiences with the supernatural, you and your mother always believed that you were normal humans. In actuality, that was who you were for the majority of your childhood. It was only until Miranda herself saw a vision of you—a much older you—fighting the monsters of the Underworld alongside her own daughter. During dinnertime, Miranda told your mother that she saw you blessed by the heavens with powers that would aid in the battle against evil.

It sounded absolutely ridiculous, right? Yeah, your mom thought so, too.

Your mother only laughed it off as she placed a steaming bowl of tinola in front of Alexandra's brothers, who instantly dug in like they haven't been fed in years.

"Boys! Dahan-dahan lang," Anton reprimanded his sons. "Or else you'll choke and the soup will come out of your noses!"

"Okay, Papa."

"Grabe ka naman, Miranda. I doubt that anything like that's going to happen to my daughter," your mom chuckled, watching your little hands try to feed Alexandra with a piece of chicken. "Unlike you guys, our lineage isn't anything special. Ordinaryo lang ang lahi namin."

Miranda sighed, looking at you and her only living daughter enjoying your time being kids, "I guess you're right. Baka panaginip lang talaga 'yun."

Anton glanced at her knowingly. Although he was aware that you and your mom didn't dabble in magic or anything like they did, he knew that whenever Miranda—one of the Seven Seers—had such vivid dreams, it was something of great importance. But he decided to say nothing, understanding how much your mother wanted to let you live as normal of a life possible in this household.

That was when you were seven years old. One year later, Miranda died fighting against a group of aswang who decided to betray Anton. Said man found the eight-year-old Alexandra hiding in a corner behind the waterfalls, scared and holding Sinag close to her heaving chest as she tried to hold her tearful sobs in.

Of course, a few days later, you and your mother attended the funeral with the mourning Trese family. All the brothers had done their best to stay strong, especially for their little sister who didn't fully understand yet what just happened. Little you ran towards Alexandra, holding her hand tightly as her mother's casket was lowered. Around you were various comrades, both human and non-human, paying their respects to their bereaved allies.

That day, as you turned your back to return to your mother's arms, you knew you would never forget the feeling of numerous unearthly eyes following your every movement.

Even they could sense that there was something about you, a so-called regular human child. You smelled human and had the aura of one, but there was something they couldn't place. It was like a tiny rock getting into your shoe, not coming out at all.

Much changed after that, but you and Alexandra remained close together. To your dismay, just after you graduated elementary, you and your mother had to move back to the province to stay with your sick grandparents. The last thing you could remember was kneeling in the back of the car, looking sadly through the rear windscreen as Alexandra and her brothers waved goodbye to you.

More than a decade had passed since then. You used to write letters to Alexandra, but after Hank told you she had to undergo the trials of the Puno ng Balete, you haven't heard from her (although Hank did disclose that she'd managed to come home safely, which was a great relief to you). You didn't blame her; you knew Tito Anton had passed away in the five years she was gone and that she had to take over the title of Lakan, as well as the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila. It was a demanding job! You remembered Tito Anton sometimes staying up all night—breakfast would be served and he would still be in his study, going over paperwork. On other days, he would be gone for consecutive nights handling cases all around Manila. You could only pray Alexandra was fine.

Your life had continued on, as well—you took care of your ill grandparents until they died, helped your mother in the province, went to a good highschool, then earned your degree in another prominent city that wasn't Manila.

Your mom actually recommended that you go to school somewhere else, given the constantly rising number of attacks in the capital of the country. And so you did. Life was hard, but normal until then.

The funny thing was that, when you reached the age of twenty-one, you finally understood why those supernatural creatures kept looking at you weirdly as a kid (and why Lady Diwata liked you so much).

What was even funnier was that the dramatic revelation came to you when you weren't in the Philippines. It was after you freshly graduated college, when you were traveling all over Asia to volunteer in charity projects. It was always your dream to one day expand your horizons not only beyond your province, but the Philippines itself, while also doing good in the world.

And here you were, walking that path you dreamt of.

The organization you luckily managed to become a member of provided everything you needed, and every few months, you would move from country to country. Because of that, you'd already been able to travel to so many places. First it was Thailand, then Indonesia, China, South Korea, India, Japan, Sri Lanka, Singapore, Malaysia, and currently, you were in Vietnam. Visiting those places was fun and gave you a whole new perspective of the world you lived in; it was a... learning experience, too.

Still, that incident happened when you were in Thailand, when you were the last one in the rented apartment balcony taping up the boxes for the donation drive tomorrow. Yawning, you cut more duct tape and stuck them to the open boxes tightly.

"Inday," someone said from behind you. You didn't bother turning around, thinking it was one of your fellow volunteers looking for you this late at night. Probably your roommate. She was the only one who usually called you by your nickname instead of your real name.

"Hmm?" you hummed, taping up more boxes. "Papasok na ako sa kwarto, Lyn. I just have a few more boxes to close. Alam mong mapapagalitan ako kung may hindi madidistribute bukas."

"Hindi ako si Lyn."

You paused, then slowly turned around, flinching at the sudden bright light that shone right against your eyes. For a moment, akala mo namatay ka na at hinaharap mo si San Pedro.

It was a glowing figure in white whose face you couldn't clearly see, which frightened you even more.

"Ay, mama!" you exclaimed, shielding your eyes and falling to your knees. Then, you gasped loudly, patting your body and panicking with closed lids. "Oh my God, am I dead? Nasa heaven na po ba ako?" Your lips wobbled. "Ngayon pa nga lang ako nakaalis ng Pilipinas... I haven't even done all the things I've wanted to do! Hindi pa ako nakapagpaalam sa nanay ko—aray!"

You'd felt something hit the back of your head. Hard. It was the glowing figure in white, but now you could see their unimpressed face scowling at you.

"Kalma lang, Inday. Hindi ka pa patay, pero makinig ka nang mabuti," they shushed you urgently (you weren't sure if they were male or female). "Do not be afraid. I am a messenger from the heavens, and I bear great news!"

"Great news...?" you trailed off, then your eyes widened excitedly. "Like, nanalo ba ako ng lotto? Isang milyon? Bilyon? Hala! Wait, is this a Mama Mary moment? I'm not ready to be the next immaculate conception!"

They glared at you, making you shut up instantly. "Sorry, I'll shut up now," you apologized with a mumble. This person (thing?) was kind of... strict. Whatever did you do wrong? You were just sleep-deprived and running on energy drinks (as well as kape).

"I have come to tell you that you are the vessel of the last skymaiden," they revealed, arms wide open. The light around them seemed to grow even brighter, making you squint. You felt like you were about the go blind! "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N L/N."

At ayun, zero brain cells remaining. Tunay na nagloading screen ang brain mo. Nag-error at nagcrash pa nga siguro, eh.

"... Ha? Ano?"

You blinked, completely speechless—as seen by how wide your jaw had dropped open. It wasn't that you were unfamiliar with the biraddali, it was just that you'd only heard of them once when you were just a young child. Your Tita Miranda had mentioned they were long gone from the world of the supernatural.

"Oh no, me? A biraddali? You're joking," you stuttered out, pointing at yourself. "Aren't they extinct or something? And, uh... not human?"

They nodded, "Yes. It is correct that everyone in the mystical world thought that the biraddali were long gone, even before the colonizers came to conquer the native lands. However, before the skymaidens all disappeared, the youngest and most powerful one among the seven sisters sealed her soul away to the rivers of time until the strength of a heavenly being was needed to help purify the evils of the world." The figure floated closer to you. "That last biraddali's soul, along with its corresponding power, traits, and knowledge, had chosen to reside deep within you the moment you were conceived."

Honestly, how were you even supposed to react? Your life was nowhere near ready for something like this. Was this a prank by your friends? Your colleagues? The light around this person seemed too authentic to be fake, though.

You stayed in shock for an entire minute, silent. The being in front of you only waited for a response.

"Ano 'to, Sailor Moon? Winx Club?" you whispered to yourself, before slapping your own cheek and scolding yourself. A stinging red mark was left on your face. "Inday, kakamanhwa mo 'yan! Nasosobraan ka na ata, matulog ka na!"

Sighing heavily, you rubbed your face tiredly, still in disbelief that you—according to this stranger—were apparently some old soul from a species of ethereal beings that were long gone. It sounded like something out of those reincarnation webnovels you got addicted to. What now, you were the MC? Wattpad ka, girl?

"Look, this is a mistake. I still have to wake up early tomorrow to give out the donations," you spoke to the glowing being (or whatever it was), laughing nervously. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. Either that or I must be hallucinating from sleep deprivation, because I'm definitely not a divine creature. You're probably just a product of my imagination. Sorry, I'm going to bed."

Bang!

At that moment, the power in the building went out. The only thing you could see was the thing who assumed you were a biraddali (they were so bright they were like a flashlight in the dark for you).

"Brownout?" you blinked. It felt wrong, though. It was eerily silent. "Did a fuse blow up?"

"Nagsimula na ang iyong unang pagsubok, Y/N," they announced seriously. "Creatures of the dark have already begun to take over this building. You may not have noticed, but all throughout your life, you have always been helping and giving. It is your nature as a being descended from the heavens themselves, and now, it is time for you to accept your destiny."

"Hoy, sandali lang! Sandali, sandali!" You were absolutely wide awake now as you heard the sounds of strange whispers around you. It was terrifyingly creepy, much creepier than whatever you'd seen back in the Trese Residence (and you'd seen a lot in that house). You did not want to be a part of a horror movie-like lifestyle. "Don't I have a choice in this?! I—I don't have any training or fighting skills! Hindi ako Alexandra Trese o Babaylan-Mandirigma! I'm not ready for this, holy sh—"

The candescent creature raised a brow at you, "Inday, I just told you that you have the power of a lost mystical being. And tell me, if you had the power to save your companions in this building from the forces of evil, would you save them?"

You were silent, knowing the answer.

"Well?" they prodded.

You bit your lip, "Oo naman. I'm not heartless!" But you were a little impulsive. And apparently, insane.

"That's what I thought. I just need you to believe in yourself," the being encouraged, gentler this time. It transformed into something smaller and rounder—like a ball of light. "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N, at marami kang kapangyarihan. Isa dito ay ang pagtulong sa mga nangangailangan, lalo na laban sa masasamang nilalang."

Bestie, what had you just gotten into?

You swallowed apprehensively, then nodded in determination, "Sige. So, how do I save the people in the building? Biraddali were said to be able to shapeshift, right? If I remember the tale correctly. Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening to me right now."

"That's just one of your abilities, but I'll teach you. I'm actually your guide," they replied confidently. "With me, you'll be able to master your powers and exceed your capabilities in no time!"

"Wait! Anong pangalan mo?" you asked breathlessly, following them as they speedily flew out of the room. "Grabe, slow down! I'm not athletic! I haven't even exercised this week, goodness."

"... Gabay. Ako si Gabay."

Despite the adrenaline and fear running in your veins, you still grinned up at the ball of light, "Okay. Nice to meet you, Gabay."

This was just the beginning of your supernatural combat training abroad. When you returned to the Philippines three years later, you were stronger, faster, and more powerful than you'd ever felt before. It was crazy.

Oh, that guy who tried to rob you when you came back to Manila was crazy, too. The two identical-looking men in dark suits and white ties—you wondered how they were surviving the heat in that attire—could only watch in awe as you chased down that man who stole your bag while doing acrobatics and parkour.

"Uy, Kuya Crispin, sino kaya 'yun?"

"Ewan ko, Basilio."

"... She's kind of pretty. Type ko. Type mo rin ata."

"The more important question is, paano niya na nahuli ang magnanakaw?"

"Oo nga, no? One in a million chance 'yan dito sa Maynila, haha! Ang astig ni ate!"

(Next Chapter.)

± Author's Notes ±

Ayieee, type daw tayo ng kambal! 😌

How the hell did I write this entirely random thing in one day? 2k+ words? Ano daw? 😃⁉️

You know, this was supposed to just be a Trese one-shot or a bunch of drabbles for the characters I'm currently simping for... but it turned into a full-blown, shameless self-insert slash crackfic. Kakacellphone ko 'yan. 🤦‍♀️

Nagresearch pa ako ng articles about Filipino skymaidens because I wanted something similiar to the Japanese celestial maidens (tennyo). Very random idea but why not? Gusto ko ng badass Y/N na hindi takot lumaban sa mga mumu! 👻

Also, pagbigyan niyo nalang ang matandang 'to kasi ilang taon na akong hindi nagpopost ng mga writings ko. May track record pa naman ako bilang author na hindi nagtatapos ng mga fanfic, hehe. I also haven't read the comics so please forgive me for any inaccuracies and of course, misspellings/errors. Gusto ko lang matapos 'to para makakabalik na ako sa Jujutsu Kaisen. 🥲😗

Anyways, comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Hit those heart, reblog, and follow buttons for updates! Just comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters. ❤

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x8 thoughts

I am so lucky that the creators of Ted Lasso decided to make this entire show specifically for me. #blessed

If last week felt like a bit of breathing room (albeit tense, poignant, character-progressing breathing room) with distinct narrative lines, this week’s episode was a chaotic yet tightly-written swirl of pain and hope and sadness! No neat subject headers for this one, y’all. Just my brain and heart in the inadequate form of a bulleted list. It is the medium available to me at this time.

I am going to remember the moment when Ted calls Sharon and tells her his father killed himself for the rest of my life.

(I could say a bunch of stuff about his face and what he says and how he tries to hide his tears from Beard right after and how insanely much I adore this character and ahhhhhhhh but I’m just going to leave that scene there in our collective memories.)

Jamie. JAMIE. Higgins has given some great advice about love on this show, but his musings about his up-and-down relationship with his own father were not helpful in the context of Jamie’s dad, who is an abusive piece of shit. I really adore that all of the main AFC Richmond staff members are realistically a bit hit-or-miss with their advice and life philosophies (some are mostly miss this season, of course).

And I am completely in awe of the moment when Jamie punches his father. The way he just stands there after Beard kicks his dad out of the locker room. The way you can hear a pin drop. And Roy—Roy who is learning in so many areas of his life about his influence on people, learning that the things he needs aren’t necessarily the same as the things other people need—is the one to cross the room and hug him. Hold him, really, with the tenderness Ted used when he hugged Rebecca outside the gala in 1x4. God.

I’ve thought a lot about how s1 was about giving people a soft place to land. There’s always an angel there when you need one. There’s always an opportunity to be kind. If you look for someone, you find them. If you look for the good in someone, you find the good. And as everyone works through their individual journeys in s2, that can’t always be the case anymore. But there are still so many moments of angels on this show, and it’s not about chance and serendipity and fate [not that it was about that in s1] but about the effort it takes to become someone who can be there for someone else. Or who can be there for yourself. I’m so proud of Jamie for physically fighting back against his father. I’m so proud of Roy for being the one who recognized what Jamie needed.

I have every feeling in the world about how Ted is almost totally frozen both times (s1 and s2) he witnesses Jamie’s father abusing him. In s1, he was still there for Jamie after, and I have every reason to believe he’ll be there for Jamie after this incident as well, but that frozen stance HURTS. He’s in so deep with his pain about his own father that it’s like he physically cannot snap out of it to act in the moment. It seems entirely outside of his control, and it breaks my heart, because Ted wants so badly to be a good father, a good coach, a good friend, a good partner, a good patient. He’s there for people in all kinds of ways, even in his current less-than-capable state. He takes care of Sharon post-concussion and even gets her a new bike! During the disastrous match at Wembley his coaching is ineffectual and everything is chaos but he’s the last one standing on the pitch! But this really awful thing keeps happening to Jamie and Ted is just…frozen in the face of it. Like one of those nightmares where you’re running in place.

The frozen-in-place nightmare also kind of applies to the way the total separation between Ted and Rebecca feels, too. I have never for a moment doubted the writers’ intentions in setting these characters up as soulmates on parallel journeys, and I’m actually really digging (on a story level) how disconnected they are right now. It is IMPRESSIVE that their absence in each other’s lives feels like such a glaring loss, one we cannot forget even as there are so many other things happening onscreen. It is 100% not just shipper goggles making me process information about Ted while thinking about Rebecca and information about Rebecca while thinking about Ted. I know there are a lot of really angry and frustrated people in the fandom right now (both T/R shippers and T/R antis and non-shipping fans who don’t get why s2 is different from s1) and while I understand being frustrated by choices characters make, and frustrated by the feelings the show makes us feel that we just want to feel more of or less of, I continue to agree with pretty much every narrative choice happening right now.

Agreeing with the narrative like this?! This is such a unique experience for me as a viewer—to feel like I’m on a ride that is at once absolutely wild and incredibly sensible and well-crafted, and to feel simultaneously completely invested and anticipatory and speculative but also totally willing to trust where it goes. I long for Ted and Beard to really talk. I long for Ted and Rebecca to stop missing each other. I long for Roy to have a serious conversation with Ted about what’s happening with him. I long for Keeley to find a vocation, something that drives her beyond her projects. I long for so many things! But I wouldn’t long for them if this show was less good. If the show was less good, I wouldn’t have a wish list a mile long because I wouldn’t be so attuned to the details and potential lurking in every scene. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SHOW, I CANNOT HANDLE IT, I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

(To that end, a great deal of the Ted Lasso tag and so many Twitter reactions reactions to the show feel super stressful right now and I am kind of just trying not to look?! I love this fandom so much because of the amazing conversations that happen and because of brilliant fic and because there are some awesome people I never would have encountered were it not for this show. That little bubble is wonderful and I’d stay in this fandom no matter what in order to keep experiencing those things. But fans’ catastrophic reactions to every little thing that happens, every little choice a character makes that isn’t the “perfect” choice? The takeaway that the writers—on this show of all shows—wake up in the morning ready for another day of torturing shippers rather than another day of writing a beautiful story they genuinely want to write? I do not enjoy those parts at all. I would like to opt out of those parts. I’m having such a magical experience watching this show and talking about this show and listening about this show and writing about this show with a variety of people who feel all kinds of ways. I truly wish I could somehow transfer the energy of this experience onto all the people who are hating it right now. I don’t mind at all that people are having vastly different reactions to this show and are sharing their honest feelings, including the really angry ones (I can appreciate something and disagree with it!), and I get that sometimes the language of fannish reactions is intentionally, ironically hyperbolic. But there feels like this very serious trend of people legitimately thinking writers on this show are targeting shippers and have lost respect for their characters, and I just feel like an alien from another planet when I see that stuff. I guess I just feel like people make art because they want their art to be visible to other people and to themselves, but that doesn’t typically involve specifically catering to or torturing a subset of that audience?)

I am more fascinated by Sharon Fieldstone than ever before. I have been running through every single action with her and Ted so many times. The confirmation that she’s living in club-provided housing (that could not look more different from Ted’s club-provided flat). Ted clearly noticing the many bottles. Sharon’s face while she tries to casually recycle them. (Sharon could legitimately have a more problematic relationship with alcohol than Ted does, and I find that extremely interesting and am very curious to find out what happens there.) Sharon leaving him voice notes while she’s concussed, probably because she’d been thinking about him shortly before the accident. The way Ted calls her and does all the funny voices and it’s not frustrating like all the times he uses his silliness and allusions to deflect during their prior conversations because this time, those behaviors are just a part of him showing care for another person. The way they stretch each other, and Ted is still wrong about the things he’s been wrong about, but they both grow all the same.

While it is pretty much impossible for me to imagine that this show would include an actual romantic relationship between Ted and Sharon (it would be beyond unethical even if they could write it well, and Sharon in particular is so professional and committed to her work, and it would erase so much of the powerful message about the importance of seeking therapy from a professional who is not your friend or partner, and I would totally hate it), watching this episode was the first moment I had this queasy little feeling that it’s possible that Ted could end up developing really complicated feelings about Sharon since, at this point, he’s been honest with her about things he’s hardly spoken about before and you can really form an attachment to people you feel safe with in a new way. (I mean, I’m sure Michelle knows what happened with Ted’s father, but I’m not even certain if Beard does.) He’s so broken right now, and Sharon is such a great person and so different from anyone else in his life (even though Rebecca is also different, and Beard is also different, and Roy is also different, and so on), that I could see things getting really fuzzy for him. I continue to have faith in the way the storylines on this show are handled. I’m just. Putting this here.

(In saying that, though, I also wanna make it really clear that I don’t just automatically assume anytime a new female character is introduced that they’re going to end up becoming a romantic complication. Like, Phoebe is allowed to have a teacher who is an attractive woman and AFC Richmond is allowed to have a sports psychologist who is an attractive woman and Keeley is allowed to talk to Jamie Tartt without it threatening what she has with Roy and all these people can exist as human beings without the introduction of romantic drama.)

Isaac gives every player one haircut per season, OH MY GOD. The JOY during the haircut scene. YES.

KEELEY AND REBECCA. Their text thread. The affirming video call right before Rebecca goes into the restaurant. The way Keeley sits all snuggled up against Rebecca in her office.

I was pretty thoroughly spoiled for the Sam and Rebecca plot through 2x8, and I was bracing for something far more problematic and tortured than what happens in this episode. The words I would use to describe their scenes: awkward, cute, cringy, and understandable. There are a million reasons why this relationship isn’t sustainable, but I felt completely understanding of both their choices here. This show has a lot of thesis statements, but I keep going back to the idea from 2x1 that there are people who enter your life to help you get to the next point, and I think it’s entirely possible that Sam and Rebecca will mutually be that for each other.

I find comparisons between Rupert and Rebecca super upsetting. There are absolutely meaningful things to say about the irony of ending up in a situation with an uncomfortable resemblance to certain taboo elements of an ex’s situation. But that ex is abusive and manipulative and cruel and Rebecca has exhibited NONE of those behaviors, and it makes me really sad to think that people feel that the writers on this show have betrayed Rebecca in giving her this storyline.

As always, I reserve the right to keep blathering about this show. I’ve had a headache for a couple of days, but my head is also so full of 2x8 thoughts that I couldn’t keep them in even if the circumstances for writing this were not ideal. I kind of hate that I’ve included frustrated fandom thoughts within the analysis of what I felt was an absolutely gorgeous, complicated, heartbreaking, near-perfect episode of television, but if ya can’t be a little dramatic on your own tumblr while you’re feeling raw and under the weather, where can ya?

[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

.

Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

.

They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

.

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

.

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

.

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

.

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

.

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[mrsnegan]

Movie Night

[After your amazingly sweet feedback to Dirty Little Secret (thank you so much, especially to @band--psycho, @sugarcoateddream, @iluvneganandjamie, @negans-attagirl and @cole22ann, your comments mean a lot 🥰), I've decided to dedicate @band--psycho's Bingo Challenge and the squares/themes of my board to Negan and the reader, because, well, their story is already unraveling in my head and making a small series out of the first part seems to be such a cool idea. So here comes part two, a bit shorter but I hope you all love it. I couldn't wait to share it with you, hence the fast update.]

Summary: After losing her virginity to Negan, the reader finds herself in a heated situation during movie night.

Square: Movie Quote

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut, dirty talk, age gap

Part 1: Dirty Little Secret

Part 3: Pitch Black Impala

Part 4: Calm Before The Storm

Part 5: When It All Comes Crashing Down

Part 6: Aftermath

Part 7: Drunk

"Fucking shit, why do we have to watch this?" Negan asks, inspecting the DVD through his glasses.

"It's a classic, dad. Besides, you've lost the bet and now it's my turn to decide what to watch for movie night", Celia joyfully answers, giggling besides me on the sofa.

"The Godfather is a fucking classic, Gone with the Wind is just...awful."

"I told you I could mow the lawn in less than half an hour, shouldn't have bet against me, old man."

You start laughing loudly at her remark, earning a serious look from Negan.

"Old man my ass", he huffs and you can't hold back your tears anymore, laughing hard. Celia joins you, the both of you nearly dying of laughter.

"Very fucking funny", Negan comments, his gaze fixed on you. You can see a faint smile on his lips through your blurry eyes.

"Besides, it's one of Y/N's favorites, so you're overvoted anyway", Celia explains after she calms down again.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, she's got a thing for Rhett."

"Celia", you taunt but she just shrugs.

"It's true, isn't it?"

Your face glows with embarrassment. And there, in Negan's gaze, you find what you've expected: amusement and the knowledge of being exactly your type, older and a smug bastard. He takes off his glasses (in which he looks absolutely fuckable) and says: "Well, who am I to ruin your wet dreams."

Celia begins to laugh again, this time because of you. With cheeks redder than your brightest lipstick, you roll your eyes and leave for the kitchen.

True to his words the day you've lost your virginity to him, he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Every time you visit, he sneaks around, driving you mad with all those little touches, stolen kisses and dirty whispers. And of course ambiguous comments such as this. The last few months you've been at Negan's and Celia's every other weekend. It's nothing uncommon for Celia and you to spend lots of time together and since Uni isn't very stressful for you this semester, you're happy to leave your dorm room behind. Especially if it's in exchange for Negan's arms. The both of you find lots of occasions to make out, mostly when Celia's asleep, at work (of course she did get the job she was interviewed for after the party, you hadn't expected anything less from your best bad bitch) or meeting with Steve. They're dating, secretly so, but it's only a matter of time until both of them will be official. Your guilty conscience is your constant companion, the lies you have to tell in order to maintain your little secret keep you up at night. A week after your first time with Negan and back at Uni you've facetimed Celia to tell her (read: lie) about your one night stand with a fellow student a few days ago, losing your virginity to him. You had to tell her, this was still a big deal for you, so it came natural to make up this story. It would've been a risk to keep quiet about it, but it made this whole situation even worse for you. You don't want to lie, sneak around and fuck her dad behind her back. Though when it comes to Negan and his filthy mouth, you're not willing to stop anytime soon.

---

The evening comes fast. After preparing some snacks and opening a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for movie night, the three of you meet in the living room for Negan's "punishment", as he likes to phrase it.

Celia crashes on Negan's holy armchair ("Such a dad thing" she always says about it), insiting on it being part of the bet. Which leaves you and Negan sitting on the sofa together. Would she have known what was going on between the two of you, she wouldn't have let you sit just a few inches away from each other. With the movie, also Negan's teasing touches start. The only light in the room is the TV, so with Celia facing it, he's searching for your hand in the dark, brushing your leg when getting some more Nachos, bumping lightly into your shoulder when taking another sip of wine. The sheer thrill of the situation leaves your heart hammering in your chest.

"Holy shit, can we please pause this nonsense for a bit? I need to take a pee", Negan requests after one and a half hours into the movie.

Celia pushes pause after giggling, giving you a much needed break from his teasing.

"I will get us another bottle of wine", you anounce shortly after Negan left for the toilet.

You open the door to the garage and head for the wine rack when you hear the door open and close again behind you.

Negan is on you in seconds, holding your face between his hands.

"You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

"Did you just quote Rhett Butler?" you laugh, stunned.

"Yeah, had to google this one to get it right but damn, if this isn't absolutely true with you."

He pushes you against the nearest wall, trapping your body with his frame, and kisses you. His lips are soft against yours, then his tongue pries your lips open. What follows might be the sexiest of kisses in the whole universe. Deeply, hungrily, desperately Negan claims your mouth, his erection pressed against your thigh.

"Fucking shit", you gasp when he pulls back, eyes two dark orbs, swallowing you whole.

"Told you", he pants against the skin of your neck.

It's dark in the garage and for someone who just needs to take a pee and someone who just wants to get more wine, you're both away for too long already.

With a disapproving grunt he lets go of you, readjusting his boner.

"Will you help me with this one later?"

You look down at his center, mouth watering at the prospect of taking him into yours.

"Well, that depends..."

"...on what?"

"Will you help me with this?" Your hand disappears into your skirt and underwear teasingly. Eyes momentarily closed, you roam your fingers over your wet folds, moaning lightly.

All of a sudden, Negan grabs your wrist, yanking your hand out of your panties in the process. Your eyes open in shock and you watch him bring your hand to his face. His eyes have darkened some more while he inspects your glistening fingers, before he puts them into his mouth, sucking them dry.

The sheer dominance in this gesture and his low moan while tasting you have your knees weak in a matter of seconds.

He releases your fingers, still holding your wrist.

"Easy now, princess, don't wanna tempt me to treat you just like the wanton little minx you are." His deep voice keeps spreading goosebumps all over your body.

"And...how...how would that be?"

He smiles at you then, not entirely unkind but far from soft.

"Oh princess, you sure you wanna go there?"

You nod your head, heat spreading to your core, drenching your panties in the process.

"Daddy's gonna stuff your dirty little mouth with his cock, fucking it just the way you beg him to. And when he's done with that, your pussy's next." With every of his filthy words he pushes himself harder against you and you harder against the wall, making you pant with desire. The kiss he's pressing against your jaw leaves you a moaning mess beneath him.

His glorious heat is suddenly gone, you watch him head for the door to go back inside.

"Meet me here after Celia's in bed." Not a question but an order. You look at him with a mix of arousal, excitement and nervousness. He opens the door, smirking knowingly.

"And princess? Don't forget the wine when you come back inside."

When the door closes behind him, you release the breath you seemingly have been holding in for God knows how long. You have no idea how you will survive the rest of the movie without leaking down the sofa.

---

Part 3: Pitch Black Impala

[angelyuji]

I also love Yan!Spiderman, there will never be enough content for him ! Can I request a headcannon ? Or a blurb, whatever you prefer ? I love the amnesia trope, like the reader having long-term amnesia after an accident or whatever and yan!Spiderman swooping in, saying they have been dating for months... You may get suspicious of how flustered he gets but he knows so much about you, he can't be lying, right ? 😚

17+

cw// stalking, non-consensual picture taking, kind of kidnapping, familial neglect, car accident caused by superheroes, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, forced hugs, lying, manipulation, “gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss” energy, implied murder, peter being a crybaby to guilt trip you, idk peter being gross and pervy and being a liar, toxic relationship (kind of because you’re kinda not aware of the fact that he sucks and he’s lying)

· OMGBESTIE sorry i just absolutely ADORE the amnesia trope in yandere fics GHJKJHGF

· it’s just so perfect *chef’s kiss*

· anyway

· you got into accident that totally not caused by peter…yeah, it was totally definitely the criminal’s fault …

· but i mean, why were you driving in the middle of a villain attack anyway? oh, you had to go to work?...so??? peter didn’t give you the ok?????

· right, so he’s tossing cars and trying to bring justice (or something like that) and he saw you coming, but alas, he's too late

· you see something hurtling towards your car as you stop at a red light. you squint your eyes, “oh. ha, that’s a car…wait”

· peter was only a couple feet away when he sees the truck he threw slam against the hood of your car, crumpling the hood like it’s made of aluminum foil. time moves in slow motion as peter tries to reach you. out of reflex, peter shoots his webs to move you from impact. he can feel himself move, but his mind shuts down. when he regains consciousness, you’re in his arms, passed out, but seemingly unscathed. he feels relief, then fury. peter barely noticed when the paramedics came to move you out of his arms. he turns to the villain, his whole body shaking, and launches himself at the man.

· you end up in the hospital for a brain injury that left you in a coma and peter literally never left your side. he came every day and stayed by your side until visiting hours were over, and came into your room at night as spiderman after patrol.

· the hospital staff saw him so much that they assumed you were both in a relationship, so when you woke up at night during his patrol hours, they called him first.

· they called your parents after…weird, i know

· “how do you feel?”

· “fine, i guess. tired, surprisingly” you chuckle dryly and the doctor smiles.

· “fine is good. what’s the last thing you remember?”

· “…um….i can’t… I don’t-”

· “hey, it’s okay. take your time.” the doctor tries to be reassuring, but you feel panic bubble. what’s going on, why can’t you remember what happened? what’s happening to you? your breathing turns rough and the air feels thicker as you seem to remember less and less of what you should know. all of a sudden, two arms wrap around you and pull you into them.

· “it’s gonna be okay” they mumble into your hair as you cry into their shirt.

· peter and the doctor eventually figured out that you were missing 4 years of your life. the 4 years that you’ve lived in queens, to be exact.

· peter realizes exactly what he has to do when the doctor pulls him and your family aside to explain the situation

· (they had asked him who tf he was and he, in a panic to not be kicked out, said y’all were dating)

· he offers your family a way out, a way to not take the stress of taking care of you, by letting him take care of you

· “i love them. i can’t lose them and i won’t lose them, so please, let me take care of them”

· honestly, your family was lowkey relieved that peter offered to take care of you, not even remembering that you have never mentioned this man in any conversation (who has amnesia now??)

· peter would go into your room and tell you that you’re going home with him

· “what? what about my family?”

· “they’re okay with it. they have a lot going on and, as your boyfriend-”

· “boyfriend? i’ve never seen you before in my life?”

· “no! no, we started dating when you moved to queens!" at your blank stare, he lowers his head slightly and you see tears fall, "i wish you would remember”

· peter will pull out his pictures of you saying stuff like “then how do i have these pictures?? hmm????” and fake crying to make it seem like he was your grieving boyfriend

· he’ll be constantly mentioning the fact that he’s your boyfriend to you and to others (at some point, ur confused on whether he’s trying to convince you or trying to convince himself) “as your boyfriend’ “your boyfriend” “i love being with you and going on dates haha yk since im your bf”

· he’ll make up different stories from places he’s seen you. if he stalked you while you were walking at the park, he’ll say you both went on walks often. if you went on picnics by yourself often, he’ll say you constantly had picnic dates. had a fun day at the arcade? more like, you had fun day at the arcade with peter!

· peter’s smart, he uses these events as a way of tricking your brain into thinking that each memory you recover of these moments are just moments that are missing him, and eventually, he’ll start appearing in memories

· peter would take you to his apartment and absolutely REFUSE to let you leave, he’ll have an excuse ready to make sure you can’t leave your new home

· “the doctor said you shouldn’t move too much”

· he’ll make you sleep in the same bed as him, go on dates with him, hug and kiss him like “you used to do” with the excuse of “the doctor said you should do things that you used to do before the accident to start remembering everything”

· …riiight

· “are you coming to bed?” you lay in his bed, waiting for peter.

· “i-i sorry, yes, I-” peter stumbles on his words as he stands by the bed.

· you sit up in annoyance, “peter, you said we slept together. what’s wrong?”

· peter turns bright red, “no! nothing’s wrong! it’s nothing, i-i’m coming to bed in a sec.” you lay back down and soon you feel him crawl into bed. you turn your back to him, but peter pulls you closer to him and start leaving kisses down your back.

· “what are you doing.” you whisper into the darkness. his small touches feel foreign on your skin and your body itches to move in disgust.

· “i’m helping you sleep. uh-before, i helped you fall sleep like this, maybe this’ll help you remember” peter pushes his head into the crook of your neck and holds you closer, his fingers grazing under your shirt and feeling your stomach.

· you try to move away without panicking, “maybe, we’re moving too fast? i kinda need some spa-” you feel peter freeze.

· “do-do you not love me anymore?” you feel peter’s tears before you hear his sniffles, “i didn’t want to push you, but i just missed you so much and i thought that you were starting to remember how much you love me.” his sniffles turn to sobs and you start feeling guilty. you push your discomfort away and let yourself get pulled into his warmth.

· “no, it's fine. just don’t, you know, cry please.” you press your lips into a thin line and sigh as peter stops sniffling and hums in content.

· he’ll guilt you into doing what he wants with tears and sobs about how he misses “the old you”

· funny, considering the fact that this mf basically made up his entire relationship with you because he’s literally psychotic

· your relationship would be seemingly normal too, except that all of the friends that talked about how they’ve never met peter before your accident went missing…huh, definitely no connection there…

· but by the time they inform you of their concern, it is already months after your accident and peter would have already made you believe that you were dating

· in peter’s mind, you’re everything and more than he imagined, even though you barely know him, he knows you so well that it’s easy for him to make you believe that you’re together.

· peter would tell he’s spiderman once you’ve stopped resisting him to make sure that you won’t search up your accident and see that spiderman was involved

· the only way for you to break from peter’s grip on your mind is for him to accidently confess that he’s lied to you

· and that’ll happen, peter may be good at lying, but during a fight, he might let it slip

· “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO THEM.”

· “they’re my friends, peter. you can’t stop me from seeing them.” you roll your eyes when peter’s face crumples. “ugh, peter, stop with the guilt-tripping. your fake tears don’t work on me anymore.”

· peter’s face turns cold, “your friends are liars and they’ve been trying to break us up since the accident. all they say when they see me are lies.”

· you keep a straight face, “well, i know it’s a lie, so you don’t have to act like this.”

· “but-but what if you start believing them? what if you realize that you can do better than me? what if you remember everything? what if they make you break up with me? wh-” peter turns to you and sees you frozen in place. he moves towards you and pulls you into a hug, but you stay stiff.

· “what do you mean “remember”?” you whisper and peter’s eyes go wide. silence fills the room as peter says still.

· “well, shit”

-

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? Part 2

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

It was your dream to convert a large warehouse on the outskirts of town into a home and education center for Hybrids. Somewhere they could learn to be self-sufficient. You would have professors and volunteers, teaching and fundraising, all for the day you could buy another warehouse on the other side of town. You wanted it to become the norm that these Hybrid facilities would build and grow in every city. Allowing the Hybrids to become an independent race no longer looked down upon by society.

You were on the last day of your heat and craving something savory. As it was late your best option was the convenience store that was always open late.

Things were falling into place as you received an email earlier that day confirming that all the items you had requested were acquired. That meant school books, equipment, and more. You were also granted the first loan for the Hybrids, a loan you would receive every term. The board wanted no less than five and no more than ten participants for an adequate examination of results.

You assumed for the program to be officially approved, you would have to show successful results from Hybrids with different backgrounds during this trial. That meant different ages and different upbringings. Wondering if it was worth visiting the adoption agency or perhaps a Hybrid store, it wouldn’t hurt for more variables.

Shaken from your thoughts by a shadowed figure rustling through the garbage, in a dark alley between the antiques and postal office. Your ears picked up the sound easily, feet scuffing to a halt on the pavement catching the Hybrid’s attention. Their eyes searched the dark for any sign of threat before falling upon you, a deep growl resonating on the wind. It was best to not get involved with stray Hybrids, they tended to be more violent. This is what you were doing the program for, to stop Hybrids from ending up homeless and on the streets. To prove that they aren’t dangerous and are capable of learning.

Struck by an idea, if you could get a Hybrid from the street to join the trial program, you could prove they weren’t violent and show that given the opportunity they could all learn and grow into members of society.

“Can I buy you dinner?” You called out, voice cracking from the cold. Your breath puffed out like smoke visible between you both. The night brought you more energy, it made you feel alive.

Cars passed, their headlights illuminating the entire alleyway and reflecting in his eyes a blood-red. He stalked forward, his body moving gracefully but you could see he was hurt, his shirt ripped and there was a strong scent of blood in the breeze. That was a downside to having heightened senses. You tried to control the disgusted look on your face, “I will pay and there is nothing else to it, just sit and have dinner with me, so I don’t look like a woman in her mid to late twenties eating alone at a convenience store”

He looked you up and down, it was then you noticed his features, he was a feline, not a common house cat. No, he was a big predator.

“Do I look like some charity case? Some pathetic creature who needs help from a human?” His words rumbled from his chest in a growl. You wanted to correct him that you weren’t exactly human yourself but decided against it. Stuck somewhere between Hybrid and human you didn’t fit in either category.

“What’s it to you? My reason is my reason, just take the free meal. Hell! Exploit me for a free meal, anything you want, go crazy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to charm him. He seemed to contemplate his choices for a moment before turning to walk away. You scrambled for your wallet and grabbed out twenty dollars, holding it out to him.

“Wait! At least take this; if you don’t want to eat with me, get something warm, and here is my card if ever you need help.”

He eyed the money but didn’t move to take it. Hoping he wouldn’t rip your arm off, you grabbed his hand. You knew it was risky. His fingers were cold, but you didn’t want to linger and make him mad, quickly placing the money on his palm with your business card.

“Have a good night, mister,” He nodded confused about the whole encounter, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving. It seemed even if you tried your best, it wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. He was too defensive, the best you could hope for was that he would stay safe in the cold.

What trials and tribulations must you go through to have these Hybrids trust and confide in you? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be this hard to get through to the group of Hybrids you were soon to obtain.

This was going to be a rather difficult experiment and you weren’t sure if it was going to go well but you hoped with every fiber of your being that you would see this through for the sake of the Hybrids.

That night you dreamed about the group of participants being hostile and unresponsive to the program, it did little to soothe your nerves the next morning. When you received an email about the new house. Jimin would have the key and would meet you outside later that day with the other Hybrids. No matter who they were, you were going to make sure they were achieving the best result they could.

The government had registered two Hybrids in your name, their files attached to the confirmation email. The two participants were so contrasting, Hoseok was a deer Hybrid, from a small farming family. The other was a Lion Hybrid by the name of Namjoon. He was from New Zealand and had participated in another government program regarding genius Hybrids.

Altogether, there were four: Namjoon the genius, Hoseok the country bumpkin, Taehyung, and Jimin. You decided to look for possible participants within the Hybrid store, and rehoming center. That would give you a wide variety of variables for the experiment; each would have a different background and would require different tools to help them.

You started at the nearest Hybrid shop. There were several rooms each with an observation window, a photo card, and a brief description of the Hybrid sitting, reading or playing video games inside. It was such a small space, how could they live in these tiny rooms every day until someone adopted them. Reading their descriptions by the windows you analyzed each of them, your attention caught by one playing video games. He had dark ears that stuck out from his dark hair. He seemed fun and you thought it would be easy to connect with him.

Hello, My name is Jungkook, I am twenty-three and I am a fully vaccinated Melanistic Jaguar.

You didn’t bother reading the rest, thinking you would like to learn about him properly, “Sir, I would like to adopt this Hybrid,” You declared, whilst walking towards the counter to begin the paperwork. Once everything was signed the young Jaguar boy was led from his small room. He looked nervous holding a small store backpack filled with all his essential items.

On the drive to the next location, you were the one doing most of the talking, receiving quiet one-word answers and small fidgets. He seemed excited when you finally parked the car, you guessed he was eager to see his new home.

However, as you walked towards the menacing rehoming center, he grew quieter and quieter, slowing to a stop before the entrance. Looking at his feet crying profusely, you realized how this must look. He must have thought he had done something wrong, how could he think you would buy him and rehome him on the same day.

“Jungkook, I am not abandoning you, I am picking up a brother for you to play with.” It took a few moments to console the young man. Wiping his tears and giving him a few pats on the head careful of his ears.

Deciding anyone younger than Jungkook would be too much to handle. “You have to help me find a big brother, someone you think will be really nice and that you like to play with, what do you think? Can you do that for me?”

Jungkook nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Okay, I can do that,”

The inside of the rehoming center smelt like disinfectant, you explained you were looking for another Hybrid and were led to a large room. There were Hybrids of all ages all playing and entertaining themselves with different activities.

It was overwhelming even for you, so you grasped Jungkook’s hand and encouraged him to look around, “Hey, what about ping pong?” You grinned at Jungkook who smiled playing a few rounds with you, the two of you giggling.

“Have I told you I am the ping pong master,” an older Hybrid grinned, he had a striped tail. You handed over the paddle and stood near Jungkook. “Do you want to play a game?”

Jungkook nodded, was this boy unable to say no. Either way, the two were getting along quickly, the older Hybrid was very playful and funny, even as he lost you were holding your sides from the laughter and Jungkook seemed to grow really comfortable with him.

Talking to one of the volunteers she explained that Seokjin was a raccoon hybrid and the oldest in the center. She explained that he often took the younger hybrids under his wing. It was an easy decision to adopt him. While you were filling out the paperwork, Jungkook was telling you all about his match with Seokjin.

“And I got the winning shot,” He grinned, swinging his arm like he was hitting an invisible ping pong ball.

“He seems really fun, would he make a good big brother?” It was cute how he nodded wholeheartedly. “Jungkook why don’t you go tell him that he is coming home with us?”

He grew embarrassed again, his dark ears twitching but followed the volunteer nonetheless. You were quick to finish up the last of the paperwork before the two came back laughing volunteer in tow.

“Unbelie-Bubble” Seokjin said before squeaking in laughter. He had all of his things and like Jungkook was nervous, but he showed it through talking.

You felt good with your selection, there was a Hybrid for every walk of life and socio-economic background. This would be perfect for the trial. They all seemed like lovely young Hybrids and you could already see them forming friendships.

It was on your way out that you saw a familiar face struggling against Hybrid control. “This is your last time, you know what happens to strays.”

“Wait!” You shouted, everyone in the lobby froze turning to look at you, the cold room felt quite warm with all of the attention “He is mine”

They froze looking between you and the hybrid before letting him go curiously. The injured Hybrid staggered over to you, knowing this was his best chance at survival, “why didn’t you tell them my name?” you asked him curiously but he kept his head down.

“This white tiger Hybrid is yours?” The handler spoke in disbelief, practically accusing you of lying. “why is he not microchipped, or registered in our system?”

“I was supposed to register him last week when I got him but I had been busy with work, I would like to properly register him under my name today,” You didn’t break under this man's pressure, you could notice the more he held eye contact the more he seemed to falter himself. “so that you will stop taking him in when he is harmlessly walking the streets”

The man opened his mouth to argue but you blinked up at him, watching him lower his hand.

“I am so sorry miss, we didn't mean to cause you trouble?” It wasn’t exactly odd behavior, you often found your arguments nullifying this way. You liked to think that your self-confident stare was what made people give in.

“Miss we have just noticed some suspicious activity in your account it says you have adopted four Hybrids today,” The woman behind the desk said, “We are legally required to ask your intentions or we can detain the Hybrids from you”

Almost questioning her, you remembered the government was placing two Hybrids in your name; they would be arriving today as well. With a smile you removed a folder from your bag, “I have a grant from the government.” You said brandishing the signed document, “I will be placing these Hybrids in my care”

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