#i just spewed out a bunch of words and said yes to it

[skelliko]

Baji Keisuke |°- kissing in the bathroom, hope nobody catch us - small drabble

everything around is muffled, the loud music that came from underneath us in the main floor of the house, the chatters and laughter from downstairs. is someone even looking for us?

his hand sliding up from the side of my waist to the middle of my back, his rough yet gentle hand sliding upwards to grab hold of the back of my neck to pull me in deeper as our tongues collided and swirled around.

underneath us the muffled sounds of the front door opening, the group exclaiming something as if whoever entered was someone who they were waiting for, how long have we been gone for?

his sharp yet curved points of his fangs gritted in-between my bottom lip, a sweet yet bitter metallic taste filled my taste buds but quickly got removed from the sweet taste of Baji's drink from his tongue, cranberry vodka that he mixed with some berry sauce.

were not intoxicated with drinks, were intoxicated with the secret looks we gave to each other, the secret and brief touches we exchanged, the subtle flirting.

our hot breaths hitting one another as I'd accidentally let out quietly moans when feeling the painful yet sensational pain from the cut on my bottom lip, but his tongue and touch made it worth it, my hands up on the side of his neck and into his loosely tied hair, we grew needy.

our saliva mixed in and building up causing a strand to slide down my chin, his hand that was at the back of my neck squeezed me a little and took hold of my baby hairs by my scalp to make me tilt my head back, making himself a perfect entrance to dig his tongue down my throat.

the door knocked, but did neither of us pull away? did neither of us react? no he just slid his hands under my shirt and I followed suit.

 ♡---

[slut4jeon]

Closer to You (jjk)

Jk x fem reader

Summary- Jungkook’s early morning gym session leaves you feeling a whole lot of things

Warnings: smut, age gap idk by how much I’ll just leave it to your imagination, older jk, degradation, shower sex, pet names, the word daddy, breading kink, slapping, rough sex, everything’s consensual ofc, fictional!!!, etc idrk

The gasp I let out when he posted this on weverse+*%€#!^~*% (closer to you best b side on golden, fight me)

-

Turning on your side, drowsy and looking for a more comfortable position you notice how your boyfriends side of the bed was cold.

Assuming he had already gone on his early morning gym session, you waited patiently for his arrival.

You finally hear the sound of the front door closing, footsteps coming closer and closer to your shared bedroom. You take in your boyfriends appearance once he stepped into the room.

Your core sparked in need as you felt yourself heating up.

His skin and hair were damp due to the sweaty workout he had just completed. Oh how you wish you had gotten up from your sleep to admire his godly body as he worked out his muscular physique.

“Morning sweetheart, did my pretty girl sleep well?”, he said as he approached you, caressing your cheek with his manly hand.

“Yes, missed you while you were gone”, you said as he cooed you.

“Missed you more baby, I’ll go take a shower and be back alright?”, he said as he began heading to your bathroom with a reassuring nod.

You huffed in boredom as you heard the shower turn on. Suddenly a whole bunch of menacing things came up into your mind.

Entering the bathroom, mirrors fogged up due to the temperature of the water, it felt like a sauna. Slipping out of your silk nightgown now completely bare, you enter the shower with your boyfriend taking him by surprise.

He takes in your appearance, admiring your body from head to toe. A gulp ran through his throat as he craved for you.

“Not tired anymore, baby?”, he said as he embraced you in his muscular tatted arms.

“No, felt lonely and bored. Wanted to be closer to you”, you said with a hint of neediness in your tone.

He caught on to your fake act. He knew you like the back of his palm. Being attentive and aware to your needs. How could he ever say no to a pretty thing like you?

“You little minx, does baby want something, hm?”, two can play at one game he thought, he needed you to share your naughty thoughts with him before proceeding.

“Yes, you.”, giving your best doe eyed stare as you batted your pretty lashes.

That’s all it took for Jungkook to latch his pinky soft lips with yours, eloping the two of you. He kissed you with a sense of hunger, caressing your sides with his strong hands. Gripping onto your plump cheeks as he gave them a firm stinging slap. Causing you to jump and whine in surprise.

You felt his hardening member touching your upper thigh. His hands left your ass as he groped your full breasts, rubbing and pinching on your buds. He teared his hungry lips away from yours as he latched them onto your hardening buds. He was so rough you loved it, loving the way he manhandled you.

You whined in sensitivity of his skillful mouth as you then firmly gripped with your palm onto his length. An up and down motion from base to tip making sure to rub the slit on the tip as well. He grunted in response which only made you wetter.

“ah fuck, mhm” you squealed out in surprise as he began rubbing in between your plumpy folds.

This only caused him to react in a rough manner, gripping onto your hairs roots.

“Language, watch your mouth. Don’t wanna hear any bad words coming outta your pretty mouth.”, he said with seriousness. Jungkook never liked when you cursed.

His authoritative tone always sent sparks to your already dripping core.

He plunged his long fingers into your cunt, provoking you to release a sweet melodic moan.

“You’re that needy? Desperately needed a good morning fuck, hm?”, he spewed as he pumped his fingers into your raw cunt.

In ecstasy you nodded your head frantically. This causing the excitement to rush into his already hard cock enjoying the submissiveness of your voice.

He slipped his fingers out of your heat causing you to whine in complaint. He slapped a firm slap onto your plump ass.

“Be patient slut”, shoving his fingers coated in your juices to your mouth causing you to suddenly gag.

You cleaned off his fingers as he watched. Roughly turning you around so your bent against the cold bathroom tile wall as your ass sticked out onto his hard on aching to be filled up by his thick cock.

You turned your head towards his direction, locking eyes with him as you mentally begged to be filled by him, expression wise.

“Baby desperately wants my cock, too dumb you don’t even know what you want.”, he complied on what you were asking for, after all you were the one begging.

Stubbornly you retorted back, “I do! w-want your cock, daddy please! want it s-so bad!”

Griping onto your wet hair and pulling it toward to his chest, leaning into your ear “Since your begging like a pathetic slut then you’re gonna take it like one”, he whisper-gritted out as he pushed his entire length in you.

Your full-throated moans were music to his ears. Igniting his excitement and provoking him to pump animalistic til your pussy was raw and red.

“s-shit you’re so fucking tight” he said as you cried.

“s good!“ you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence with how stupid dumb he was pounding into you right now.

All that was heard was both your melodic moans in harmony as his ball frantically slapped onto your ass.

You were in daze. Your thoughts suddenly being cut off by his large palm gripped onto your nape pulling you upwards into his chest.

This erupted a whole new sensation, your current position brushing onto your g spot deliciously.

You cried and whined

“s too much! s-sensitive!”

He loud out a dry chuckle, “Yea? Well too bad baby, you’re gonna take it. You wanted this.”

“daddy gonna c-cum!” You cried as his fingers reached to your lower bud and began abusing it, spasm coming closer.

“Shit me too baby, gonna fill you up real good with my babies. You want that sweetheart? Want to be bred with my babies? Make you a mama, hm?

You stupidly nodded your head eagerly, the words “yes!”, frantically spilling out of your mouth along with your cried moans.

Both cuming together on time, your staggering breathes and cum leaking abused cunt being the after math of your steamy sesh. Jungkook back-hugged you as he repeated what was said earlier on, “do you really want to have babies with me?”, glistening eyes reappearing.

“Yes , I really wanna have children with you kook.”, you said

Reacting in excitement, turning you around so you now are both face to face. He elopes both of your lips together.

“Guess we better start practicing.”

[ncis-nerd]

Desperate Bunny

Note- Did not proofread. I think I called Nat daddy once but Wanda is daddy, Nat is mommy and Carol is captain.

Ship: Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanov x GN!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Degradation, small use of feminine pet names, aftercare, fluff. Reader has a uterus.

About: What happens when y/n is needy and tries to be slick about it? Wanda teaches them a lesson. Fluff and aftercare after!!

Wanda smiled as her fingers brushed along y/n's face. "Awe, is our dumb little puppy needy?" The redhead cooed. Y/n whimpered in response. Carol and Nat huffed. "Of course they are, look how they're just rutting themself on my boot. So pathetic" Carol growled. Y/n desperately rode Carol's once shiny boots, now covered in her sticky wetness. "They're definitely cleaning this later" Carol mumbled to Nat. Carol lifted her boot, causing it to hit y/n's clit. They gasp softly and plead. "Please Carol, please. I need it, please captain-" they spew out. Carol smirks "Captain?" Y/n began to blush in embarrassment, their face turnt tomato red. "Awe our dumb little slut gets flustered so easily" Wanda murmured. "Stupid mutt doesn't even know what they're begging for." Nat hissed.

Y/n continued chasing their high, attempting to get off before anyone could notice. Unfortunately, their act was not subtle and was put to a stop immediately "The dumb whore thinks they can do whatever they please, get off whenever they want. They don't know their body belongs to us and we're the only ones that can bring it pleasure." Nat growled.

Wanda snaked her arms around y/n, lifting up, to her level. "Ladies I think we need to teach our puppy a lesson." Wanda purred, caressing y/n's body. Her arms light as a feather, enough to leave y/n squirming in their place. "Oh yeah? What did you have in mind, baby?" Carol inquired. Pressing a soft kiss against Wanda's lips. Wanda pulled away, and glanced towards Nat, motioning for her to get closer. "I think..." Wanda whispered, dragging the two closer, all y/n could hear were a bunch of hushed voices, they whined, not liking being excluded. "it's okay detka" one of the woman's voices said in a comforting tone. Nat left the room, y/n looked at Wanda confused, scrambling their brain to figure out what the three were planning.

Nat returned with rope and a vibrator in her hands, Carol began to move y/n to the bed. Nat started to tie up y/n and moved closer to their eye. Whispering "if you need to stop at anytime, you can call your safewords. Remind me what they are, my love?" Nat asked, her words tickling against y/n's ear. Y/n, stuck in their thoughts, neglects to hear Nat. "Honey?" Nat pulled away, looked at y/n concerned. This caught y/n's attention, "yes mommy?" Y/n squeaked. "Angel, I asked to hear your safewords." Nat said. "Red if I want to stop completely, Yellow to slow down and green means I'm okay." Y/n spoke. "You're doing great baby, if you need to stop then call red, detka." Nat praised.

Once Nat finished tying up y/n, Wanda turned on the vibrator that was between their legs all the way up. Y/n jerked immediately, squirming and moving all over the bed. "So responsive, so sensitive" Carol noticed. "What's the matter baby, thought you wanted more? Didn't you wanna cum, puppy?" Wanda pouted with fake sympathy and teasing y/n. They nodded in response, "p-please daddy, please- can i cum- gonna cum.." they exclaimed. "Oh..don't worry little one, your daddy decided that since you want to get off so badly, you can cum as much as you want baby." Nat smirked.

A few orgasms later, y/n was realizing what Wanda's true plan was. To make them cum as until they're begging her to stop. Until it's too much. "Have you had enough yet, puppy?" Wanda cooed, going over to y/n and admiring the tears dripping down their face. "So wet, is that for us detka?" Carol mumbled, her hands running all around y/n's soft body. "Of course it is, the whore loves this." Nat purred, latching onto y/n's nipple. Biting it softly and tugging on it. Her tongue circled their breast, coating it in saliva. Nat moved away and flicked the bud with her finger. Y/n groaned softly, arching they back and moving towards their daddy's touch. Nat smirked in response, noticing y/n's little show.

"Did you learn your lesson puppy?" Wanda spoke, moving the vibrator and putting it directly on their clit. Y/n squealed "Daddy, too much!!" They exhaled in a shakily breathe. Wanda continued, for one final orgasm. They felt that rush come over them and whined they still felt the vibrator on them. Wanda let them ride out their high, then turned off the vibrator.

Y/n laid spaced out, sprawled all over the bed. "God look at our little slut." Carol admired. "So pretty, only we can make you this way. Isn't that right baby?" Wanda cooed, not expecting a response as you were entering subspace. Nat began to loosen y/n and left little kisses on her wrists and legs that were previously tied up. Carol went to get water and lotion for their wrists, Wanda put the toys away, to be cleaned up at a later time.

A cold washcloth touched y/n's skin, they whimpered and tried to move away from the cold piece of cloth. "Shh.. it's okay detka. You did so good my love. Let mommy clean you up, hm? No more playing, all done." Wanda whispered, looking at y/n. Admiring the mess they made out of their angel, before cleaning them up. The cloth dragged through y/n's folds, they continued to whine but no longer protested and allowed Wanda to clean them up.

Carol walked in with the water and lotion. She joined y/n on the bed, pulling them into her lap after putting the lotion on them. She held the opened bottle to their mouth "Drink, baby." She murmured. Y/n took large sips. "'M so proud of you my love, ya know that?" Carol praised.

The three woman cuddled y/n. Y/n was in the middle of Wanda and Nat, their head pressed against Wanda's chest, legs intertwined with the redheads' legs. Hands drawing shapes on Wanda's unclothed stomach. Wanda smirked. Carol held Nat, and the four fell asleep.

"Still feeling floaty babes?" Carol spoke in nothing louder than a whisper. Y/n hummed in response, looking around. The bed felt lighter, Wanda and Nat were nowhere to be found. "They went to food babes." Carol spoke, noticing the way y/n was searching the room, scanning their eyes for the pair that were gone. "Wanna watch a movie in the living room, baby?" Y/n nodded against Carol's chest. As Carol stood up, she nodded y/n still laying in the bed. "Cmon babes, get up." Carol spoke. Y/n whined and did grabby hands, reaching for Carol. "Oh? Want me to carry you, bunny?" Carol questioned. Y/n nodded. Carol bent down and lifted y/n, they wrapped their legs around Carol, laying their head on Carol's head. They signed in contempt. "Oh is this more comfortable, bunny?" Carol smirked, carrying them to the living room. Carol put them down on the couch, they whined in response, from the loss of touch. "I'll be right there detka, let me just grab the remote" Carol promised, seeing y/n's distress.

"Want popcorn babes?" Carol spoke, turning on the television. Y/n shook their head and whined, they just wanted Carol. The captain laughed in response and joined them on the cough. "My clingy baby, so cuddly. Like a koala." Carol teased. Y/n hid their face in embarrassment. "Hey, hey. No need to be shy, bunny. Let me see your pretty face. Hm?" Carol cooed, removing y/n's hands from their face. "Ah! There you are, my gorgeous little bunny. What to you wanna watch baby?" Carol asked, scrolling though the list of movies. When scrolling, y/n's favorite movie comes up. Immediately, they point at the screen "Tangled!!" They exclaimed. Carol laughed at this "Oh, so you can speak now? Hmm.. are you pointing at Tom and Jerry? I can't quite tell what you're pointing at. Can you repeat that, bunny? Carol teased, wanting to hear more of their voice. "I said-" They were cut off, being attacked with tickles by Carol. They squealed. "Carol!!", squirming, breathlessly.

Wanda and Nat walked into the house with a brown baggie filled with Chinese takeout. The redhead met the eyes of the green eyed spy and smiled when they heard the voice of y/n laughing. Wanda dropped the baggie on the counter and they went to investigate. They were greeted with the sight of Carol on top of y/n, trapping them beneath her and tickling them. "So this is what you did while we were gone?" Nat teased Carol. "Hey, what could I say? They are just so tickleable!" Carol exclaimed. Wanda sat next to them on the couch "Tickleable? Huh.. Don't think that's a word detka." Wanda spoke, leaving a kiss on the captain's forehead and latching onto y/n's hand. "Hm, how is our bunny doing? You still light or out for subspace, honey?" Nat asked, sitting next to the others. Carol got off of y/n. Giving them some space to answer. "I'm here, I'm back. Still feel a little light though, more cuddly though." Y/n spoke, as their tummy growled. Suddenly, they noticed the smell of low mein and shrimp wontons. "Mm that smells so good.. you got my favorite!" Y/n spoke, happily. "Mhm, only the best for our bunny." Wanda hummed, leading them to the kitchen. The movie long forgotten about.

A/N: If you liked the fic then heart, reblog and comment!! This is not apart of my series inspired by song titles au.

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 

It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 

“How big?” 

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[sixosix]

KATSUKI & IZUKU: IT WENT LIKE THAT

( ? ) an interview from you (following the events of “it goes like this”)

you’re not saying you regret coming here, but you regret coming here a little bit.

“so, y/n-san,” kana says with a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. you’re acutely aware of the camera pointed right at you. “onto the next question: who’s your celebrity crush?”

“celebrity crush…? oh, that’s a hard one.” there are excited murmurs from the audience, all speculating. there are whispers about bakugou and izuku’s names; you pointedly ignore them. “i don’t know, really. a tie between mirko and hawks.”

izuku is going to grill you about this later.

“ah, makes sense,” kana nods, accepting your answer without further digging. “they’re the top two every time i ask that question.”

you don’t know how to respond to that, so you opt for a smile and a nod.

kana lights up when she moves on to the next question, and the people seated in rows across you fall hushed in anticipation. she giggles, almost maniacally, bringing the mic closer to her lips.

“you’re really close with deku and dynamight, right?”

you already know where this is going. with practiced ease, you lean against the couch, picking careful words that wouldn’t make villains froth in the mouths for a chance to break your ties. “we’re a trio.”

“right, right!” kana shivers with glee. “so, tell us about your favorite moment with deku and dynamight!”

there are cheers of encouragement and approval, nearly startling you out of your seat had you not been prepared. but any mention of their names when talking to you is always the most prominent font in headlines.

you have a feeling that once you return home, you’ll be bombarded with a series of explosions from katsuki and embarrassed whining from izuku. but that’s a problem for you later—right now, you’re here to please the audience.

“what’s my favorite moment with deku and dynamight?”

your first and favorite memory with bakugou katsuki was witnessing the start of his crude language. he taught you the phrase ‘eat shit and die’, and you find it funny to say, so you let him teach you.

he found out about it from a world-weary employee walking past and cursing out his phone, frustrated to hell. he wasn’t dressed like a villain, only someone who carried dark eyebags and a dingy, old phone. he shut up pretty quickly upon the sight of katsuki’s sharp red eyes as if expecting him to tattle tale to his mom.

instead, he turned to you and izuku, and recited those words wholeheartedly. he found the horrified looks of grown-ups to be funny.

izuku was confused, and you cackled.

he took this as encouragement because the next day, he’d found thousands of creative ways to spew nonsensical insults strung together loosely with shit and fuck.

“it fucking helps me express my shitty emotions,” five-year-old katsuki said solemnly, right after he tormented izuku with a bunch of it just to stress the poor boy out. izuku had to learn the hard way that eat shit and die is not a phrase of encouragement.

(katsuki’s smile was strangely fond and soft when you kept laughing—not that you’d indulge the audience too much by giving them that.)

“so dynamight was always like this, huh…” kana murmurs thoughtfully, giggling along with the audience.

“it’s not surprising,” you snort, “he’s fluent in the arts of being a little brat, as his parents say. we still love him for it, don’t we?”

your first and favorite memory with midoriya izuku was when you met him.

you don’t remember every detail—only bits and pieces that often keep you awake at night, thinking, “if things turned out differently, would i still be here?”. the answer was yes, you would. on a stage someday, maybe, but to miss out on izuku and katsuki sounds like a bland world to live in.

you recall stumbling into the classroom, still hanging on to the fragments of sleep your family rudely interrupted just for something as stupid as kindergarten.

katsuki was surrounded by the class, preening like a proud cat. izuku, on the other hand, was staring right at you with wide, curious eyes that resembled a puppy.

“do you have a quirk?” he asked, and the fun facts about your pet fish you practiced the day beforehand all dissipated instantly.

“i… do,” you murmured, thumbing at the hem of your shirt. “‘s not cool, though. so i don’t want to tell you.”

the strange boy with green curls looked as if you had just told him that all might retired. “i bet that’s not true! every quirk is cool! kacchan has a quirk that makes him boom!”

“...boom?”

he nodded, beaming, hopping up and down. “he can create explosives with his hands by igniting the nitroglycerin he sweats!”

“um, excuse me?” who even is kacchan? and what’s a night-row-glistening?

he continued to peer up at you as if the kacchan person was enough to convince you to reveal your secrets to him.

(you leave this part from the audience, knowing that it would raise suspicion about izuku’s quirk origins, but it went like this:

tired and a little irritated, you ask, “what’s your quirk, huh?”

izuku froze, his expression blanking for a split second before it fell into a hesitant one. “i don’t have one, yet. but i’ll get it soon! and even if i didn’t have a quirk, that wouldn’t stop me from becoming a hero!”)

and so, you focused on the pen in his hand and tried to hide a smirk when his jaw dropped to the floor when it began to float mid-air, followed shortly after by his notebook. (your quirk is nothing special. useful, maybe—especially in your line of work where you’re in charge of handling hero equipment—but nothing special. until now, you never understood why izuku…)

“oi, deku, who’s this?” a blond materialized out of nowhere, staring blankly at a pen and notebook hovering.

“kacchan!” deku practically shrieked, ignoring the grunt of christ from his best friend. “kacchan, look! this quirk is so cool, isn’t it?”

you felt your face warm at the praise, your poor heart racing. “it’s really nothing.”

kacchan eyed your expression, quirked a brow at izuku’s, then shrugged. “‘s pretty cool, yeah.”

“your quirk is like my mom’s! she can pull my toys towards her, but you can do it a bajillion more times!” deku squealed. “can i please be your friend? please? kacchan doesn’t bite, and i promise i’ll only ask three questions a day!”

your fate was sealed to both of them the moment you said yes. not that you were complaining.

“ah, y/n!” izuku all but scrambles to the door when you open it, his smile taking up most of his face. “you’re home!”

“i’m home,” you agree, grinning. izuku reaches for your bag, and you let him take it as you wriggle out of your shoes. “did i miss dinner?”

“yeah, it’s fucking cold now,” katsuki sneers as he appears from the kitchen. “go shower, i can smell you from here.” still, he does not complain when izuku tosses him your bag; instead, he places it gently on the couch.

“we watched your interview,” izuku says, gently pushing you towards the dining table despite katsuki’s chiding. “you did well! i told you they’d love you.”

“now,” katsuki says as soon as you sit down, “tell us what happened.”

“what…? you said you already watched it.”

“yeah, but, i like it better hearing it from you,” katsuki says, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “because it’s funnier,” he clarifies, glaring, “stop laughing, deku.”

ok guys!!!!! this little au is fun and all but HONESTLY im out of ideas and i do not have the brainpower to turn this into a series so this is the last one </3 GUYS I ACTUALLY HATE THIS i finished half of it it in one sitting but ill die if i delay it another day

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x F!reader

Description: After getting a call from John Winchester after no contact for months. The group gets led to a town in which a couple goes missing every year around the same time. But Sam doesn’t want to follow orders anymore, and the town still needs help.

Warnings: Cannon Violence, fight scene (tell me how i did, im still learning how to write it!), arguing, a little angst, talk of crimes, cursing (i think), talk about sacrifices and Pagan rituals (i fricken love learning about Paganism), Y/N gets a little snarky and cocky, use of magic and abilities

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn

Word Count: …14,005

Scarecrow

(Master List, Prev. Chapter, Next Chapter)

“So you’re with the Winchesters?” Adeline says, her voice just as husky and amused as I remembered. It had been months since we talked, I'm surprised she wasn’t mad at me, though maybe she was and she was just hiding it well. “Yes.” I answer simply, waiting for the impending lecture.

“I should be surprised, but I'm not,” She remarks, and I can hear the smirk on her face.

“You know B/N said nearly the same thing!” I laughed lightly, but it soon died down when she didn't join in instead going completely quiet.

“You should have told me.” She says, venom on her tongue, but I know it’s out of worry. “No text, no call, not even a letter! I show up at your house. Not only are you not there I have to find out from your co-workers that you quit and haven’t been in contact with anyone. Did you quit because of those Winchesters? ‘Cause I swear to God I wil-“

“No!, quitting had nothing to do with them.” I cut her rant off, “Look Addie I'm sorry. I got so caught up in it all I didn’t think of telling anyone.” I sigh, leaving out the part I forgot I had people who cared about me—which is so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. But that isn’t what I called for…”

Suddenly a sharp demanding knock sounds at my door. I don’t move for a second, watching it, “One sec, Addie” I place my phone down on the bed pulling back the heavy blankets. I tiptoe to the door, the rough carpet dragging on my feet. I take a deep breath preparing myself for the worst, I unlock the door, creaking it open just wide enough to see who is there.

Dean stands there, his eyes wide and his hair a little messy, still in his pajamas. A black shirt and some plaid pajama pants, though I figured he might have thrown those on before coming to my door- I knew he wasn’t foreign to sleeping with just a shirt and underwear on. I open the door further, “Are you okay? What happened?” I spew out.

“Get dressed. Dad called, ‘doesn't want us following him. He's going after the thing that killed Mom, says it’s a demon. He gave us a bunch of names and needs us to go investigate. Meet by the car.” He answers quickly. I stared at him, all of this was rushed, we barely got any sleep and we were already leaving rather quickly. He looks me over, nods, and then walks away back down the hall to his room, giving me no chance to ask if he was okay.

I closed the door a little shocked, making my way back to my phone and before it was even by my ear I heard the impatient click of her nails against some hard surface, “Now what” she huffed. Definitely mad at me. “I’ll have to call you back later” I sigh, “I need to go.”

“No you don’t get to just call me—“ She nearly yells but I cut her off again, “Addie I promise I’ll call you back.” The line goes silent for a beat and I wonder if she’s still there.

She sighs, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay” I smiled sadly, yet even as the words passed my lips my stomach twisted itself, “I will call you.”

“Fine.” She huffs but she doesn't sound so convinced.

“I love you, Addie.” I say, and I mean it.

“I love you too. Stay safe, and call me!”

“Alright, just to double check all those names are couples?” I ask from the back seat of the Impala, copying notes down on a little notepad. “Three different couples. All went missing.” Dean confirms from the passenger seat. The darkness of the night cloaks us in its cold embrace.

“You said they were from all different states, Washington, New York, Colorado, and all went missing at the same time each year trying to travel across the country. But is it possible that it’s just a serial killer? Not to undermine your fathers findings.” I explain motioning my pen around as I speak, “I mean it is possible the suspect lives in Indiana, knows the roads well, and which way people go when road-tripping. Then being able to intercept them therefore fulfilling his or her urge. Then that kill can satisfy them till next year.”

“I guess, but they always disappeared in the second week of April. One year after another after another. That’s pretty weird.” Dean points out.

“Not necessarily, serial killers can have a certain connection to a date like an anniversary of something. Feeling only the need to do such an act during said time.” I ramble.

“Well, we’re still checking it out” Dean answers plainly, practically shutting down my theory. I guess it’s safer to check but it’s nighttime. I didn’t get any sleep, they barely got any sleep, and rushing over to Indiana in a 3-hour long car ride doesn't sound so fun if it turns out not to be a supernatural thing. “And this is the second week of April.” Sam remarks.

“Yep.” Dean nods.

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer.

“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obituaries Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” Dean beams, flipping through the papers he had on the missing couples. He very clearly looked up to his Dad in some manner, even though he wasn’t deserving of such praise. I know Sam feels this way too, he never had an issue calling out John and he certainly can see all that’s wrong with how they grew up. The thing is I know Dean knew too, he was just trained to be loyal.

I watch Sam in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder until the knuckles turn white. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, sharply, my body jerking at the motion. “What are you doing?” Dean asks confused, straightening the way he sat.

“We’re not going to Indiana.” Sam says firmly.

“We’re not?” Dean replies, shock and amusement written on his features.

“No. We’re going to California.” Sam answers, “Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”

“Sam.” Dean warns.

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.” Sam reasons, and I don’t disagree.

“Dad doesn’t want our help.” Dean argues, his voice getting louder.

“I don’t care.” Sam answers rather calmly.

“He’s given us an order.” Dean bites, using one of his favorite excuses.

“I don’t care.” He repeats himself, this time more firmly, “We don’t always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain.

“Please stop fighting, why don’t we work this job, put all our energy into it. Work it quickly. Then immediately head to California, both of you win” I offer, always the person trying to cool the fight down and offer some sort of solution. But even as the words leave my mouth I know I’m wrong, this argument is more than working a case or chasing demons. This is years of grief built up. Sam half turns to view me, his eyes are pained and I almost think he might be close to tears, “It won’t be enough. You said it yourself. My Dad moves fast, if we don’t head there right now we’ll miss him entirely.” He looks between both of us now as he adds, “But I’m talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge.”

Dean sighs, “Alright, look, I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Sam spits, nearly yelling. “How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

Oh. This is old grief on top of new grief, he hasn’t coped with the loss of his girlfriend not that we could have expected him to. It’s too soon. These emotions are too raw, too new. Dean matches his brother yelling, “Dad said it wasn’t safe. For any of us. I mean, he knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”

“I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.” Sam argues, looking at his brother strangely.

“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!” Dean yells. The tension has exploded, the car falling quiet in its aftermath. My dislike for their father seemed to grow ten folds, to make your own child feel like that—

“Dean, that’s no—“ But before I can say anything more about it Sam exits the car. Slamming the door behind him. Dean and I get out of the car following him to the trunk where he unloads his things from. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.” Dean yells.

“Dean!” I snap, “This has gone far enough, you don’t get to say things like that, he’s your brother! Both of you calm down, please.” I didn’t want Sam to be treated like this, not from his brother who I know cares about him. “No. It’s okay, Y/N” Sam says calmly, his movements slowing as he stares his brother down, “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes, it is.” Dean gives a single sharp nod.

“Well.” Sam shuts the trunk, “then this selfish bastard is going to California.” he puts his backpack on and starts to walk away.

No. This can’t be happening. “Dean,” I say desperately, he has to apologize or stop him so they can talk it out. This isn’t my place but I can’t watch this happen. He looks out at his brother, “Sam, come on. You’re not serious”

“I am serious.” Sam responds, still walking away.

“It’s the middle of the night!” Dean yells out, “Hey, we’re taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”

Sam stops walking, turning around, “That’s what I want you to do.”

I let out a frustrated groan, “What the hell is wrong with you both?! Just talk it out, we can come to some sort of agreement or—or reason with each other.” I practically beg. Both their eyes fall to me but Dean just responds with, “He’s made up his mind” his eyes turn back towards his brother, “Goodbye Sam.”

I stand frozen, eyes wide, this is not happening.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist, his hand warm despite the cold night, practically dragging me to the passenger side of the car. He waits for me to sit and buckle myself before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. He gets in, putting the car in drive.

I watch Sam turn back around and walk away in the car's side mirror. Dean must have been watching too because he slams his fist on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and then does it again and again. I place my hand over his just as it connects with the steering wheel again. “Dean…” I say softly, but it comes out more like a plea. His hand goes still under mine, and when I turn my face to look at him, his eyes are glossy.

He does not turn to look at me though, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the dark road. “Dean” I say weakly, letting out a shaky breath feeling my own eyes welling up, “please, stop the car.” He listens, slamming on the brakes, my body jolting at the sharp stop. He snaps his head towards me, “Why so you could leave too?!”

I lean away from him retracting my hand, placing it on my lap, “No” I say quietly. But his reaction made me want to leave, the tears in my eyes finally fell over, spilling down my cheeks, “Do not take your anger out on me.” He sighs, turning his face away from me, cursing.

“I know you don’t want to hear this…but you must” I begin to say, having to pause to clear my voice of its shakiness, “I care for you both a lot but I’m so sick of you guys constantly fighting over something stupid when all you have to do is talk.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Dean snaps back, still looking away from me.

I huff, annoyed, “See! You get all standoffish instead of dealing with your emotions and I know that's what you’re used to but you don't have to be that way around me of all people.” He goes quiet, with no snappy comeback or even a grunt of annoyance. His jaw clenches and I wonder if that's from anger, trying to hold back tears, or both. “What if were destined to always hate each other,” he says quietly, and I know he means him and Sam. “He doesn't hate you, and I know you don't feel that way either,” I answer softly, even when I know what he truly means. He turns his head towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, “Then why does he keep leaving?!” he says through gritted teeth the last word coming out as if he spit venom.

In truth, I can't possibly know what he feels. He raised Sam and was there every moment of every day. He saw him take his first step and say his first word, brought him to school, fed him, put him to bed, and kept him safe. I was more like Sam in that aspect, I was the youngest with an older brother who took care of me and looked out for me. Honestly more than our own Dad, maybe that’s why he and Dean got along together so well- a shared understanding.

So, no, I could not understand exactly what he felt, not even a fraction of it. But even despite that I reached my hand out carefully, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek before pausing giving him time to pull away and hide if he wanted to. He didn't. I cup his cheek, whipping away another tear that fell. His green eyes seemed softer then like his anger had diminished enough but still lay beneath the tears. I don't have all the answers, “I know it may not seem like it, but he isn't leaving you. He went off to college ‘cause he wanted a chance away from this life. Even now he is going in hopes of stopping what started this all, he’s going to come back…your brothers you can't escape each other even if you wanted to.”

It's not a solution, and I don't expect it to help. But all I can do is hope it eases something in him. He leans his face into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath in.

In one quick motion, I unbuckle my seat belt with my free hand. He must have known what I was going to do because he removed his face from my hand only to put the car in park, release his seat belt, and turn his body so I could hug him properly. I close the distance between us so I can wrap my arms around his neck, his body immediately reacts to my movements. His head falls to the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls my body impossibly closer and tighter.

His breathing gives him away, his warm breath coming out uneven against my neck a wetness forming against where he resides. I don't say anything about him crying, or anything at all, I just move my hand up and down his back in soothing motions, hoping to ease him.

I do not know how I managed it but after he finished crying I got him to switch seats with me so he could rest while I drove. I've never driven the Impala before, maybe this was him showing me he trusted me even though I already knew he did, or maybe it was tiredness overtaking him. But the drive was pretty straightforward and it was dark so there wasn’t a worry about other cars.

He managed to drift off, which I was envious of but I was more proud of being able to drive Baby to notice my exhaustion. I even got to play music that wasn’t the usual rock songs he liked to play, which I don’t have any problem with but a change is nice sometimes (even if I played it very quietly so he could rest).

Just as we pulled into the small town he woke up, grumbling a “good morning” before staying silent the rest of the time. He went on his phone at one point, pulling up the contacts but ultimately he did not call anyone. “Ok, ready?” I ask, shutting off the car after pulling into a spot.

“Yeah” He nods, his voice still a little gravely from sleep. I hand him back his keys before exiting the car, the pure feeling of accomplishment pulling over me. I drove Baby accident-free and made it to the destination! I’m so good!!

We walked up to the only person in sight, an older man sitting on a wooden rocking chair in front of a café. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to be out, it certainly felt too early to be up though I guess I never really went to sleep.

“Let me guess,” Dean points to the store's sign that reads Scotty’s Café, “Scotty.” He looked proud of his stupid joke if you could even call it that, a dumb grin on his face. Scotty looks up at the sign and then back at us looking unamused, “Yep,”

“Hi, my name’s John Bonham and this is Pat Phillips” Dean introduces us both, and I want to glare at him for using a member from a popular band's name but if Scotty doesn't know then the glaring would give it away.

But of course, our luck has long run out, “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?” He looks at Dean pointedly then at me, “And his wife?” Now I really do glare at him, I didn’t know Pat Phillips was Bonham's wife! I barely knew Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin, only remembering because of Dean rambling about it. Dean looks at me, eyes raised as if to silently say he didn’t think he would know. He turns back to Scotty, shock clear on his face, “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Alright, he wasn’t even trying to deny it, great.

“What can I do for you, John?” Scotty asks anyway and I’m surprised he didn’t completely write us off. Dean takes out two pieces of paper from his pocket, unfolding the missing person's flyers. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d seen these people by chance.”

Scotty takes the flyers, barely studying them before answering, “Nope. Who are they?” Huh, that was a little weird, I would think he would want to think harder about it. I study the older man but his face reveals nothing, no fear in his eyes.

“They’re really close friends of ours, honestly we’re worried,” I explained while trying to test him, if he is responsible and he knows friends are looking for them and hasn’t given up he might crack a little. “They’ve been missing for a year now, passed somewhere through here. And we already asked around Salem and Scottsburg—“ But he doesn't let me finish my list, “Sorry.” He hands back the flyers to Dean, “We don’t get many strangers around here.”

Once more his eyes and face reveal nothing but still something about him is coming off weird.

“Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, ‘anybody ever tell you that?” Dean tells him, earning a glare from the man himself. Dean chuckles, amusing himself at this point, “Never mind. See you around.”

I wait until we’re back in the car to say something, Dean taking his rightful place in the driver's seat, “Is it me or was that guy acting weird about this all?”

“Nah, he just doesn't have expressions,” Dean responds. I laughed, “That is not what I meant!”, I turned in my seat to face him, “Okay if someone came to you and was all like ‘my friend went missing and she’s been gone a long time and I think she passed through here do you know anything.’ Wouldn’t you really study the photo and try and think back, especially cause it’s a year ago. Scotty barely looked at the photo!”

He seems to contemplate what I said, “ ‘Could also just be a jerk.” he responds. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Dean.”

“Alright, you could be onto something sweetheart. We’ll keep asking around.”

Our next stop is a sort of Gas Station, all road trip essentials lining the walls from maps to mixed nuts. Aka the perfect place someone would stop at on their trip. “You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean asks the older couple working.

“Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?” The man who introduced himself as Harley responded.

“Yes, dear friends,” I answered.

“Did the guy have a tattoo?” A sweet blonde girl probably around our age asks, coming down the nearby stairs with a large box in her hand, her face just barely visible. “Yes, he did,” Dean responds. She puts the boxes on the counter and looks at the picture of the dark haired Vince then back up at the couple, “You remember? They were just married.”

Harley’s eyes suddenly widened making a little ‘oh’ sound, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here’ more than ten minutes.” Dean and I shared a look, now this guy wanted to suddenly remember. “You remember anything else?” Dean pushes further.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Harley answers, finally sharing some truth. These townspeople were strange. “Would you be able to point us the same way?” I ask him, eyeing him carefully.

“Sure.”

Dean drives down the long road, slower than usual, both of us looking for anything unusual or suspicious. There was undoubtedly something going on whether it was supernatural or not. But there wasn’t much near us, just trees and endless roads.

We pass by what looks to be an orchard, apples hanging from the lush trees.

If I was kidnapping and possibly killing people I would choose somewhere along this Interstate, it was practically dead and no one would suspect anyone driving here even late at night. My thoughts are cut off by a violent buzzing noise coming from just behind me, most likely in the back seat. I turn to Dean, giving him a confused look, he turns his head to the back of the car looking instead of the road. “Dean. Road” I remind him, his eyes going back where they belong.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, shifting myself so that I was kneeling on the seat. I lean over the back seat, having to drop down low to reach his duffle bag, the top of the seat digging into my gut. My ass is definitely sticking up in the air and most likely close to Dean, but I ignore the embarrassment of that idea as I shuffle through his bag. I move one of his shirts around, finding the cause of the loud noise, “It’s your EMF” I call out hoping he can hear me even with my head still buried in the little space between the floor of the car and the backseat. I grab the box, the medal heavy in my hand.

I lift myself up and back to my seat half turned and sitting on my legs, it continues to buzz violently, the meter blaring to the red. “‘Think it’s the orchard” he announces, pulling the car off to the side of the road. We venture into the trees.

The ground was soft beneath my shoes, a light morning dew still clinging to the grass. If this was any other day or occasion I’d say it’s a rather nice orchard but the EMF has not stopped, and I think if it could go any further red it certainly would be there.

The trees were all lined up, apples scattered about the ground and a potent scent of rotten fruit following it. From where we pulled over it wasn’t hard to find the middle of the orchard, the trees cut down in almost a circle, except some paths that broke away in various directions.

A tall post stood in the middle, a creepy scarecrow on it. It looked rather human and full rather than stuffed with straw. Its face looked like a mask with stitches adorning it and hollow eyes, greasy long hair flowing from beneath his fedora. The only scarecrow-like thing about him was the fact he was tied to a wooden post and had a sort of jumper with patches on it, though the added black trench coat contradicted this. And in his hand was a sickle, what was meant to be used for agriculture only made him that much creepy.

Its head was leaned down, and looking up at it made it only seem like he was staring down at us with those empty eyes. “Dude, you're fugly.” Dean says out loud and I almost expect the thing to move or respond, but it doesn't. “Maybe you should say sorry to him.” I practically mumble to Dean. If it came to life I didn’t want a target on his back for insulting it, or mine if it thought I was guilty by association.

“Why would I say sorry?” he counters.

“So that he doesn't kill you if it comes to life!”

“I think it’d kill us either way”

Rationally I knew he was right, but the thought of something like a doll or in this case a scarecrow coming to life creeped me out a little too much, “Good point, but he is horrifying.”

“Yeah, horrifyingly ugly” He chuckles at his own joke, a stupid smile on his face. I try to hide my own laughing, not wanting to encourage him.

“I think I see something,” He murmurs. He moves back, turning to the closest tree with a ladder against it. He picks it up as if it weighs nothing, placing it right next to the scarecrow. He climbs it until he’s at eye level with the thing. I watch his eyes fall to the hand that held the sickle, his gaze at its wrist. Its sleeve ripped a bit revealing leathered “skin” and a sort of design.

I wrack my brain for any customs or cultures that decorate scarecrows beyond just its clothing and face, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Why would anyone put a design on a scarecrow's wrist?

Dean pulls out a paper from the inside of his jacket, unfolding it swiftly before placing it near the thing, comparing the two. “Look who has a nice tat.” he says, turning the paper down so I could see. He held Vince’s missing poster, the young man holding a mug in his hand the perfect pose to see his tattoo. Detailed ink with all sorts of shapes I could even begin to describe, I look back up at the scarecrows tattoo. The two are the exact same, far too alike to be any sort of coincidence.

“Nice tat indeed.”

We immediately got in the car and turned around back to the town. Something was going on and someone was causing it. Now Dean pulls the car into the local gas station. Turning it off and exiting, I nearly stay put in the passenger seat until I see the same blonde girl from before walking up to the car. We needed answers and she seemed to be the only one willing to help.

I exit the car, keeping the door open as I lean my arms on the roof of the car. “You’re back” she greeted, smiling. “Never left.” He replies smoothly.

“Still looking for your friends?” She asks, acknowledging us both. “Yup, call it stubbornness or what have you but we aren’t given up.” I respond, still pushing the same agenda as before. “I’d call that a good friend,” she smiles.

I don’t think she’s involved in all this, she’s willing to answer our questions when no one else was and she seemed to genuinely care. If she was involved then she was quite the actor. “You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?” Dean asks her, nodding his head towards the car. The nameplate necklace she wore came into view as she grabbed the pump and began to fill the tank. That’s how he knew her name.

“Did you grow up here?” I ask, starting back up conversation.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” She explains shortly.

“They’re nice people.” Dean replies plainly. She nods as she speaks, “Everybody’s nice here.”

“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” she pauses for a moment, “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean turns his head towards me, giving me a look. This definitely was weird, I mean how could every town around them be failing but not here?Were they making sacrifices to the scarecrow? It would make sense considering its tattoo. Dean turns back around to Emily, “Hey, you been out to the orchard? ‘You seen that scarecrow?” We were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She answers her nose scrunching. “You can say that again” I laugh, “Do you know who owns it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.” She shrugs.

He nods to something behind her, I turn my gaze to it, my eyes landing on a red van parked by a garage, “That your aunt and uncle’s?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “Customer. Had some car troubles.” That’s a little too convenient, “Is it a couple by any chance? A guy and a girl?” I ask, worried that they might be the town's next victims.

She nods even as her face twists with confusion, “Mmhmm.”

As soon as the Impala's tank was filled, and Emily gestured toward the couple's location, we wasted no time heading straight there. Dean opens the glass door for me, the little welcome bell ringing above us. I walk in first, immediately being hit with the sweet smell of baked goods, the culprit of it being a thick piece of apple pie that Scotty delivered to a couple sitting by the window.

“Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?” Dean greets, walking in behind me, adding “And a green tea…actually while you’re at it some of that pie too.” I have to hold back the smile that wants to escape onto my face, he was being slightly annoying on purpose which is proved further when Scotty gives him a nasty look before walking away. But beyond that I’m surprised Dean knew what I wanted, yes I drank tea quite often but how did he know I was feeling that flavor in particular?

He moves to sit at a table right next to the couple, I sit in the chair next to him trying to come up with a conversation starter for the people only a table away. I mean how do you say ‘hey you’re in danger! haha, please leave town’ to someone without them thinking you're actually insane? I am pulled out of my thoughts at the feeling of my chair moving, a soft scratching noise below it. Immediately I see Deans hand at the side of my chair, pulling me closer to him without saying or looking at me.

I try to ignore his strange antics and the butterflies that flutter in the depths of my stomach at his movement as he talks to the dark haired couple, “How ya doin’?” God for someone whose usually so smooth he was being so awkward. They share a weird look clearly looking uncomfortable before waving and smiling. But their uninterest in starting a conversation with strangers is very obvious as the girl leans closer to her boyfriend placing her arm up to lean her head on as if to block us out.

“Just passing through?” Dean continues, ignoring their reactions. “Road trip.” The girl answers plainly, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Hm.” Dean hums his hand suddenly finding my thigh. My heart lurches, my leg twitching slightly at the sudden movement but he just gives me a little squeeze before readjusting his hold. Splaying his warm hand against my thigh, his fingers hooking onto the inside of my leg as he pulls them apart slightly, the gap just big enough to hold my thigh comfortably. He gives me another squeeze as if he was testing the feel of me again…oh god.

My brain seemed to short circuit, any logical thoughts I had turning into a mass space of blankness and static. I swallowed roughly, my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flying frantically in warmth. This was just for a cover, if we acted as a couple too then they might feel more comfortable and inclined to talk with us, I try to reason with myself. But god when did my face get all warm? Stay focused Y/N, stay focused, I repeat to myself in my head. This wasn’t the time. Can’t be thinking of my feelings for him or the fact that this was only making me feel more desperate for him. Stay focused.

“Us too” He adds, and I have to think for a second what he’s talking about…Oh yes, we are also on a road trip, yeah.

Scotty walks over with a pitcher of something brownish orange, maybe it was apple cider considering this town clearly has a large supply of it. He moves right past us, refilling the couples cups, “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.” he scolds us.

“Just a little friendly conversation.” Dean smiles up at the grumpy man who begins to walk away, “Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks.” Scotty just stares at him, the scowl on his face deepening, but he doesn't say anything as he walks away fully. “So, what brings you to town?” I ask softly, a sweet smile on my face in hopes of erasing the awkwardness in the air.

The girl answers, “We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”

“Aw, really!” I respond trying to sound amused.

The guy answers this time, “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”

“That’s really sweet” I nod with a smile even as concern eats at me. They were definitely going to be the next victims. But I’m also terribly confused, I have no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing a broken brake line means you won’t be able to stop the car but I didn’t know it could leak…

“Yeah.” The man nods trying to go back to his food.

All at once it hits me, I nearly want to kick myself for not thinking about it right away. I want to blame it on Dean's hand placement but it was most likely my lack of sleep because I was in fact enjoying his hand on my thigh…

This small town in Indiana was practicing Pagan rituals, and as much as I hate to admit it learning about Pagans was one of my favorite things to do.

“So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?” Dean asks them.

“Sundown.”

It was common in Paganism to sacrifice something or someone to the gods. It was a time where they didn’t understand why certain things happened like crops dying, so they blamed this on not respecting the Gods enough. When the real cause could have been for a number of reasons from lack of water to not crop rotating…

“Really.” Dean pauses for a minute, “To fix a brake line?” He receives a nod. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything.” He offers.

…However in terms of supernatural beings when these sacrifices were made it did work, whether or not it was the Gods “cursing” them or just not understanding agriculture. Either way it did work, the gods answered, and the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the payout which is why they typically did human sacrifices, sometimes even on a mass scale.

“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” The girl replies, looking nervously at her boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” I chime in, “He really is good, I mean you should see the level of care he puts into his own car. ‘Keeping it all good even though it’s decades older than him, he even keeps my old car in check.” I knew with every word I was stroking his ego, but it was true. Beyond his own car I can count on two hands the amount of times he helped with my old Volkswagen Beetle, he’s probably the reason why it still works.

In the corner of my eye I can see his cocky sexy grin, he squeezes my thigh once more and my thoughts fizzle out again as a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in my gut. Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester will be the death of me without knowing.

“Yeah we’re sure” The girl insists.

“Sure.” Dean pauses, his smile dropping, “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.” I guess he figures they won’t listen any other way. The couple exchanged a look, “I’m sorry?”

Dean leans in closer, “I know it sounds strange, but, uh—you might be in danger.”

The man finally snaps, looking annoyed, “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean says disappointingly, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” The couple looks at him strangely.

The bell above the door rings and I figure we don’t have much time left, “Look we aren’t trying to bother you and ruin your day, okay, I’m sorry.” I start, looking back at the Sheriff who had walked in. I lean in, speaking just low enough for them to hear, “But you really are in danger, for the last couple of years couples have gone missing this time of year repeatedly withou—“

“I’d like a word with you both.” The sheriff practically booms. I go quiet giving the couple a warning look both to say to listen to what I said and to not bring anything up now, they look scared and hesitant.

“Come on. I’m having a bad day already, ‘m just tryna make it better with my girlfriend” Dean reasons, I know it’s a lie but the way the word slipped so easily from his lips made my heart flutter.

“You know what would make it worse?” The sheriff replies. Dean releases his hold on my thigh, a tingling feeling taking its place. We got up and followed the man outside then following his orders, he was going to follow us out of town and we weren’t allowed back.

We drive down the interstate, both knowing we would turn back once it was clear. But for now we trudge toward passing by a sign that says ‘Thanks for visiting Burkittsville.’ I check the side mirror, the sheriff making a U-turn, heading back to town. Great.

“Should we find a motel nearby and return at night?” I ask, knowing the couple wouldn’t have a car to leave with ‘till sundown.

“Yeah, you need sleep” He hums. I wonder if he’s saying that because he knows I haven't slept at all. “Unfortunately I will not be sleeping ‘cause I have a very good idea on what’s going on and I wanna research further” I answer, opening up the glovebox to pull out the map that resided there.

I unfold it, tracking down Indiana and then the small town we just left, following the colored lines. “I think if we stay straight we’ll be at a rest stop in about 15 mins” I mumble, hopefully reading it right.

“Anyways!” I place the map down in my lap, “I’m very sure this town is sacrificing the couples to a Pagan God.”

“‘Thinking the same,” He answers.

“Okay, good. Now I'm not 100% sure i’m right on which one it is ‘cause there’s a lot of agricultural Gods as well as Gods of the woods, but the second I can search it up I’ll confirm it.” I ramble, talking with my hands.

“To be honest, sweetheart, ‘don’t know much about Norse Gods except the basics.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I got this” I beam.

I grumble for the fifth time typing different wording into the search bar. I want to scream as the page turns blank, the only words on the screen being ‘No Results.’

“What is it?” Dean asks from where he lays in his bed his fathers journal open, looking for anything on Norse Gods.

“Somehow there is nothing on Vanir Gods and when I mean nothing I mean nothing!” I get up from my bed walking the short distance to his, I climb on it putting my legs beneath me. I turned my laptop towards him, showing him the screen, “See!”

His eyebrows scrunch up looking just as confused as I feel, “I know we aren’t in the town anymore but do you think it’s somehow related?” I ask.

“Maybe. We aren’t that far from Burkittsville” He answers, taking my laptop and searching up ‘Books about Vanir Gods’ but again the same message pops up ‘No Results.’

He types in ‘Books about Norse Gods’ a couple searches pop up the main one being a thick book only available in a college in Burkittsville. “That’s so strange.” I mumble, I mean how could they be interfering with the internet.

“If they can make sacrifices to a god I’m guessing they could mess with google of all things. We’ll go there later” Dean responds and I’m sure he means after making sure the couple is safe. He closes my laptop, “You should sleep, I’ll wake you”

I studied him for a moment, and he was right. I should sleep, it sounds wonderful actually. I nod getting up, I don’t even bother changing into comfortable clothes or even taking off my bra I just crawl underneath the covers of my bed. “Good night, Dean.” But it was hardly close to night time.

He smiles, “ ‘Night baby.”

Dean sped down the interstate, the sun was nearly down and we would have been there on time if not for all the semi trucks in the truck stop not knowing how to exit. You really think it wouldn’t be so hard.

Continuing by the vast orchard, we scanned for a red van parked on the side, hoping to beat them there.

After some more driving, we eventually stumbled upon the deserted car, devoid of anyone. He stopped the car short even as we still had multiple feet between us and the vacant van.

He turns the car off and I meet him by the trunk, he hands me a shotgun, “Go through here, cut ‘em off--get in front” he rattles off the plan as he cocks his own gun. I nod, cocking my gun before shutting the trunk as he takes the lead.

I catch up to him, running at his side, passing through each tree as my shoes crush the fallen apples with a satisfying crunch.

I squint my eyes, the dark haired couple too far away to get there before the dark figure of the scarecrow does. It was a clear distance away, I could bring us there in a moment's time. I’ve practiced this sort of distance before, it was doable, and nothing like the asylum. “Get ready to shoot 45 degrees to your left” I shouted, reaching a hand out to grasp Dean's shoulder. He meets my eyes with a look of determination hard in his irises. I focus back ahead on the target, forcing my energy there.

The air ripples around us even as we continue to run, in a blink of an eye we’re in front of the couple. A loud shot rings out, Dean shoots the thing square in the chest. But all it does is stumble back before it continues to walk forward.

Its head was tilted slightly, that greasy hair dangling on his shoulders, the sickle gripped tightly in its leathery hand. “Get back to your car!” I yell behind me, “Go!” I looked behind me for a split second, they were running and we weren’t too far from the orchards clearing.

Almost at the same time Dean and I start walking backward away from the horrifying thing. I raise my shotgun up, shooting it right in its chest as Dean cocks his gun again. But these salt bullets were doing nothing and was hardly buying us time, “Get ready to run!” Dean orders as he shoots the thing again.

Not needing to tell me twice I shift my footing, running towards the clearing right after the couple. Beyond Dean's own shoes hitting the ground hard next to me I could hear the subtle click of its boots walking the ground. Now I know how every character in Halloween felt as Myers went after them.

I do the thing that you should never do in a horror movie and turn my head to see how close the scarecrow was. It couldn’t be more than 10 feet away, “Screw this” I mumble, twisting my footing again so I could walk backwards as it came towards us. I uncomfortably hold the gun in the crook of my arm as I extend my hands forward, effortlessly calling upon my abilities as I shoot out pure energy from my hands.

The scarecrow goes flying what seems like 100 or more feet, landing harshly on its back. I want to celebrate and get all cocky but this was dealing with Norse Gods and I didn’t particularly feel like getting on their nerves at the moment.

I make it to the clearing, my chest heaving from the running and use of powers. Man, water would be good right now.

A familiar arm wraps around my shoulder, the crook of his arm touching my neck as he brings me into his side. His chest heaves too, “Good job.” The praise makes my heart swell but the sweet moment is cut off by the man in the couple panting, “What—what the hell was that?” He points between the orchard and me. Double yikes.

“Don’t ask.” Dean responds.

We sit in the Impala just outside of town so we wouldn’t technically get in trouble.

After helping the couple officially leave, thank god, we went back to the motel. It would be hours until the college opened so we really just had to wait. We ate at some all night diner before showering and sleeping for a couple more hours. We woke early, I threw on some low rise black jeans and a fitted black & gray long sleeve baseball tee, heading out to grab some coffee before heading back close to town to wait.

Dean had called Sam, placing his phone on speaker and positioning it in the middle of the dashboard so we could both hear and speak. He called his brother on his own accord to talk about the “hunt” and I didn’t dare say anything about it knowing he would just brush it off. The call was certainly more than just letting him know how the hunt was going. “The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” Dean muses, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?” Sam responded concerned.

“God no” I scuff.

“We can cope without you, you know.” Dean adds.

“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.” Sam theorizes.

“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway.” Dean answers.

“What makes you say that?”

I answer this time, “There’s a lot that points to it, from annual cycle killings to the choice of victims. And I’m sure you know human sacrifices were common in Paganism especially when it comes to fertility. There were even mass sacrifices to even protect them and or help them with wars.”

I begin to speak with my hands again, getting more animated as I get excited, “And according to a local all the towns around them are failing in multiple degrees especially in agriculture, while Burkittsville remains flourishing largely in their apple department. As seen not only through their extensive orchard but their numerous apple products, they practically gloat upon it.”

“And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean adds in.

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.” Sam acknowledges.

Dean answers, “Yeah, we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…” Sam starts, Dean adding in with their usual weird finishing each other's sentences, “And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”

“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?” Sam asks.

“Well, there’s hundreds of Gods.” I answer, “But it will most likely align with Norse Paganism which are broken up into two sections one of them being Vanir Gods. From what I remember they’re Gods of fertility, wealth, wisdom and two other things. I don’t remember too much and unfortunately there’s an issue with the internet so I can’t even confirm my theory.”

Sam laughs, “What do you mean issue?”

“Long story,” Dean responds, “But we’re on our way to a local community college, they have a book on Norse Gods there. You know, since we don’t have our geek boy to figure out the issue with the internet crap.”

Sam laughs again, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything.” Dean replies quickly with a fake annoyance to his voice, “Actually, uh—“ He looks at me as if he isn’t sure what to say, I nod my head encouragingly, “I want you to know….I mean, don’t think….”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam says seriously, seemingly knowing what his brother was struggling to say.

Dean looks to his hands cradling his coffee cup to straight ahead through the windshield, “Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.” I don’t try to bite back my smile, he wasn’t looking to begin with, either way I was proud of him.

“Are you serious?” Sam asks, probably never expecting to hear that.

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—“ He cuts himself off, sighing, “anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Sam says quietly.

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Ok.” Sam responds, though he sounds upset, "Bye, Dean.”

He collects his phone from the dashboard, hanging up. He catches me staring, “What?” I don’t answer, just smile at him, “No. Don’t give me that happy go lucky sweet look.”

“Oh come on!” I laugh, “That was really sweet of you Dean! So can’t a girl be proud of her boy.”

He rolls his eyes, placing his coffee in the cupholder before crossing his arms across his chest, but his face gives him away a light pink gracing his cheeks. “You are a sweetie pie” I declare, placing a hand on his shoulder. He removes one of his arms from their own hold, placing a warm hand on top of mine, grasping it gently to remove it, “I’m not.” he bites. His tough boy act was so cute.

“If you say so” I shrug, the smile on my face giving away the fact that this wasn’t me giving up on the fact he was a total softy. He turns his head away, facing his window, mumbling something incoherent.

I want to start skipping into the library, who knew a community college would have such a nice one. Though to be fair I would say any library was nice as long as it was in good shape. I make my way to the librarian's desk, “Hello!” I greet, my excitement getting the best of me, “Could you point us to the books on Paganism? Or even just Norse mythology?”

The old woman at the desk looks at me a little strangely, maybe I came off too strong. But her expression contorts into a small smile, “One of our dear old professors would have those sorts of books, lucky for you sweetie I think he’s free right now. I can just give him a little call.”

I look back at Dean, who stands a little bit behind me, he shrugs, I guess it wouldn’t hurt talking to a professor about this. Especially if it meant looking at that book.

I turn back to the old librarian, “Yes please.” But she already placed the phone back in its holder, “He’ll be right down.” Oh. Okay, this woman works fast. “You can take a seat there, it’ll be a moment” she points to just behind us at a mostly empty table. “Thank you!” I smile.

“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.” Professor Williams says, as he leads us to his classroom.

“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.” Dean responds, not sounding all that amused.

“Well what are you looking for in particular?” The older man asks.

“Uh, local lore, maybe” Dean answers, looking at me to jump in at any time but I don’t know if I want to put all my eggs in one basket. We had to choose who we could trust here, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with the nice librarian but doing so made getting to the book easier. I hope. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.” He answers.

I can already feel this being a painfully slow lead to the answer, “You know, actually,” I began, “I was interested in the Vanir Gods. It struck me the other day and when I can’t get an easy answer for something I go digging.” The professor stops in his tracts, turning to face me, “Very well. I was not expecting to hear such a clear topic.”

I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I just like to learn.”

We follow him down the rest of the long hallway into his classroom. A small room with desks and chairs lined in order while a large whiteboard rested on the long wall. He beckons us over to his desk, a thick and long brown leather bound book lying there, “Well, let’s see.” He leafs through a couple of pages seeking what seems to be the chapter he’s looking for, “Ah ha, there we are” he declares, turning the book towards us.

I read the first page quickly, breezing through information I already knew. I turn to the next page only to be met with a picture of a scarecrow-like thing on a post in a field with farmers surrounding it. I read out loud the text just below the image, “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.”

I looked up from the book catching Dean's eyes, this was definitely it. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean asks, gaze flipping to the man in question.

“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.” He answers not all that helpfully.

“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?” Dean questions further. He’s really just putting it all out there. The professor laughs, “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Yes of course” I fake laugh along with him, “My, uh, friend here just loves the hypotheticals, you know?”

“I do,” Dean nods seriously. The professor just looks at us strangely. God I really hope he just thinks we’re weird people. “Listen, thank you very much.” Dean says, holding out his hand. The professor takes it, giving what seems like a firm handshake before offering one to me, “Yes, thank you so much,” I say sincerely, taking his hand for a single awkward handshake.

I follow Dean to the door, an odd feeling settling itself in my gut as if something was about to happen. He opens the door and the feeling spikes, my heart jumping at the simple action. What the hell. I want to ignore it, push it to the back of mind and chalk it up to just random anxiety. But I can’t, genuine fear twists itself around within me, clawing at the walls of my stomach as if to warn me. Just as my foot breeches the hallway everything in me screams to turn around.

I listen to my body, turning around as I take a half step back, a large book only inches from my face. A small breathy squeak leaves my lips as I duck, a loud bang and tumble coming from beside me. This was a trap.

Using my bent knees as leverage as well as the attackers stumbling at missing me, I latch on to their forearms pushing up and out still holding on tightly as I lift my leg and kick. My foot connects with the soft expanse of the person's stomach, letting go of his arms at the same time. It was no doubt the professor as he was the only one in the room with us. I watch him stumble backwards, knocking into his desk roughly.

My brain works quickly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The bang and tumble I heard must have been someone attacking Dea—I twisted my upper body to the right, catching the sheriff's wrist before the blunt of his gun could hit me too. I didn’t need to look to know he already got Dean. God this town was crooked.

I bring his arm down closer to my level, twisting it in an attempt to put it behind him, but he uses his free hand to left hook me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. I let go of his arm at the action, my hand instinctively going to my cheek that stinged until something cold clinked onto my wrist. I knew it was handcuffs but my eyes went to my wrist anyways just as he clicked into place the other half of the cuff.

He looked smug, as if he had won. He must have been stupid. Not that it changed much but my hands were cuffed in front of me, magic aside it couldn’t have stopped me. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a ‘seriously?’ look before kicking him where the sun doesn't shine, immediately he doubles over holding onto his crotch with teary eyes. I guess you could add assaulting a police officer to my list of crimes, he may have been a sheriff but it probably still counted.

He would be down at least for a minute or more so I turned back to the professor who seemed to be stalking closer with the same book raised as if he was trying to kill a bug. The second my eyes landed on him he stopped moving, I foiled his plan. “Could you stop with the book?!” I exclaim. He seems to contemplate what I said, his eyes slipping from me to something behind me. He was not good at this fighting thing.

Thin but strong arms wrap around me, forcing my arms to my chest. I flailed around trying to shake the guy off, I didn’t want to use my magic yet. The less they knew the better. “Watch, she’s a kicker” the professor warns. “I know” the somewhat familiar voice of the sheriff huffed from behind me, his chest rumbling with each word. His chest was rising and falling fast, I wonder if he fully recovered from my crotch attack or if he was pushing through.

All at once I stop flailing, a smirk making its way on my face, and before anyone can do or say anything more I bite down hard on the sheriff's hand, my neck bending at a weird angle to reach him. He yells letting me go to hold his wounded limb.

I take a couple steps away from both of them, “I’m also a biter,” I muse. I look between both men, neither of them seeming to know what to do. They hadn’t expected this. “Which one of you wants to go next?” I point between either of them, the handcuffs rattling with my movement, “ ‘cause I can go all day, baby.”

They look at each other, worried in their eyes. The sheriff's throat bobbed with a hard auditable gulp. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared” I tease, smirking viciously, I was having too much fun with this.

The sheriff reaches slowly for his gun, the one he must have put back after I kicked him. I watch him do it, he’d pull it but wouldn’t shoot and ask me to stand down or come with him. He expects me to be afraid of the gun, at the prospect of being shot which is why he assumes it would work. He pulls it out, holding it firmly out in front of him aiming for my chest, “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head!” he yells. How predictable.

The smirk on my face only deepens, I lift an eyebrow at him, “If you wanted me on my knees so badly you could’ve just asked.” I was never usually so flirty or straightforward, but this was just so fun. I knew I was getting cocky. Maybe I was hanging around Dean too much. “Knees now!” He yells again. At this point he was just feeding me these easy openings. A laugh escapes my lips, I must look like a psychopath.

He readjusts the gun in his hand, his finger scooting back towards the trigger, but he couldn’t shoot, not when they wanted to use Dean and I as sacrifices. “Last chance!” He warns. Last chance indeed.

I catch my eyes flaring purple in his shiny revolver, a look of horror and confusion apparent on his face. A look I was used to, and as much as it normally would upset me I could use it now. The air fizzled around me, maybe I was getting better at this, in a blink of an eye I was right behind him. I kick the back of his knee, the man buckling under his own weight, his gun going off. The bullet hits the ceiling light right above where I stood only moments before.

Shards of glass fall, the light flickering for dominance before eventually going dark. I easily grasp the gun from his hand, turning the safety back on before sliding it across the floor out of the room. Without a plan to actually hurt the man, I used what he gave me, pressing the linked chains of the handcuffs to his neck as I brought the back of his head to my stomach.

He grunts against my hold his hands trying to pry the chain off as his eyes search the professors for help, but his partner backs away hands up in defense. I loosen up my hold, I wasn’t trying to severely hurt the guy or kill him for that matter. “‘Had enough?” I ask, mostly teasing.

Suddenly a soft plush material is pressed to my face, I move to fight or teleport away but my limbs suddenly feel too heavy and my eyes begin to droop. My body feels like it’s falling even as I stand in place, I think. My eyes begin to flutter close, my legs giving out on me. The world turns black.

My head feels fuzzy. My eyes are too heavy to open just yet. It smelt bad, a musty smell combined with a farm-like smell. The ground was comfortable.

I try to open my eyes but they flutter shut again. Someones calling my name, they’re too far away…need to come closer. My head was pounding.

Something suddenly brushes into my hair repeatedly. Even still half gone, fear spikes in me. My eyes shoot open, my upper body jolting up into a seated position. Familiar hands hold my shoulders as I sway, the room seeming to move back and forth, “It's okay, you’re okay” Dean says soothingly. I stare at him, his features becoming less and less blurry as I blink.

He cups my face gently, his fingers barely brushing against my skin. He seems to study me, most likely noting the bruise that is undoubtedly forming where I was hit. His thumb brushes over my wounded cheekbone gently, yet even so I wince sucking in a breath between my teeth. “Sorry” he mumbles, meeting my eyes. I hum, my tongue feeling too heavy to utter a word. “What happened to you?” he asks softly.

I swallow, trying to force my tongue to work enough to answer but my words still come out too quietly, “You went down first. I fought, but I think someone else came. They covered my mouth with a thingy, maybe they used, um, what is it called?” My thoughts felt all jumbled still, fog covering the expanse of my brain. My head was killing me too much to think straight. He practically scowls, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, “Chloroform” he answers. I smile weakly, “yeah that.”

I want to lay down. The room was still spinning, my head hurt. This was embarrassing, I had gotten all confident before– feeling invincible only to be drugged. I remove Dean's hands from my face, holding them instead as I place them on his lap. I looked around us, the room might be moving but it was obvious enough it was some sort of basement. No, a cellar. It was dark and empty, except for the straws of hay lying around. And just across from us was a small staircase up to what seemed like cellar doors. “It's locked,” Dean says, noticing my stare. Of course it is.

But if I could just right my mind, clear the fog, I could get us out easy peasy. Almost as if I willed it, the cellar doors creek open. The sunlight floods through, I try to block it with my hand, the sudden light worsening my headache if that was even possible. I need Advil. Dean lets go of my hand getting up quickly, just watching the quick movement makes me want to vomit. I blink slowly, following suit, with a lot of stumbling I make it to my feet even as it feels like the room is pulling me down.

Four jerks stand just outside the cellar, Harley and Stacy, Scotty, and the Sheriff. Harley moves close to the stairs as if he's about to descend them before getting abruptly stopped by the Sheriff, “I wouldn’t, she's feisty.” Dean laughs at that, my assault on the man very apparent by the various bruises he displayed. I would smirk or laugh too if it didn't feel like I was using all my energy to keep me standing. Harley knocks the Sheriff's hand off but makes no move to get closer, “She’s also still drugged” he bites. “Wrong,” I pointed a finger up, feeling more like a drunk as I spoke, “This would be the side effects or aftermath of Chloroform.” All four of them looked at me blankly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know.

“I hope you both know this is for the common good,” Stacy nods. I furrow my eyebrows, “Thanks for the preaching, lady. It really eases the brain into all this sacrificial nonsense.”

“That's enough” she replies rather calmly before nodding to the others. They begin to close the cellar doors, darkness enveloping us. I sat down rather quickly, landing on my butt harshly, “I'm surprised you didn't say anything snarky to them.”

“You were more entertaining” He answers with a half shrug. He tries the cellar door again but of course it's locked, he huffs moving to sit next to me.

I lean my head on his shoulder. He speaks softly now so as not to disturb my throbbing head, “Where do you think this important tree would be?” He was referring to the tree we would have to destroy in order to kill the scarecrow, and it was a good question. “Hm” I hum, “It would be the oldest tree here, probably the most protected. Maybe the first immigrants brought it over here, so it’s wherever they would plant it. I would say in the middle.” He nods and I swear I could hear the gears in his head turning.

The cellar doors open again, Stacy coming into view “It’s time.” I want to ask why they didn't just take us the first time they opened the doors but I guess waiting to die a little later was better than sooner. I remove my head from Dean's shoulder, do we fight? It would be 4 against 2 except I wasn't completely okay. But we could fight, right? I mean we always make it out, we always wind up fine.

Harley and the Sheriff come down the stairs, the Sheriff watches me carefully as he lifts Dean forcefully up. Harley doesn't show any remorse as he grips my forearm tightly, lifting me to my feet before grabbing my other arm roughly holding them behind my back. I struggle against him attempting to step hard on his foot as he forces me up the stairs behind Dean.

Real fear twirled itself around me, were we not going to fight?

They drag us forward deeper into the orchard, I dig my heels into the dirt trying to slow it down as much as I can. I’m scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to be sacrificed to some god. Please. Please. My headache needs to go away, let me use my powers without pain. I struggle against him more, trying to let my magic seep into anything around me but immediately my headache worsens by ten folds. I grunt in frustration, trying to shake the older man off further but he only tightens his grip. I hope bruises won't come from it, not that it would matter if I died today. I close my eyes tightly, digging my heels in further, please. Please. Anything, please.

Harley pushes me forward effortlessly. I don't want to die. Please. Please.

The ground begins to rumble, shaking violently. Apples tumble from the trees hitting the ground with a bunch of thumps. My heart beats wildly in my chest as if it's trying to jump out and run away. His grip loosens on me as he freezes in place, “It's angry at us!” Stacy yells covering her head. I wiggle out of Harleys hold, taking a couple steps away as my legs wobble like the ground. A familiar click locks into place, I come face to face with a gun, “It’s not causing this. It's her” the Sheriff accuses.

“Dont touch her” Dean yells, struggling against Scotty's hold. The Sheriff must have passed him on to hold me at gunpoint for the second time today. “I'm not doing anything” I spit, the shaking ground growing more intense.

“Your eyes are glowing again” he states. “What are you talking about?” I nearly yell, I think I would know if I was using my own abilities. Plus I've never done anything like this before so how would I be able to do so now?

Before I can react he has my hair wrapped in his fist, pulling my head back forcefully a hiss of pain escaping my lips. It felt like it was going to rip itself right from the roots. “Dont you fucking hurt her!” Dean roars. The ground seems to become more violent, the large trees themselves shaking where they stood while everyone nearly stumbles over. He pulls my hair hard, my neck snapping back as he moves his shiny gun in front of me, showing me its side.

My only slightly blurred reflection stares back at me. My cheekbone had a dark bruise painted there and my eyes were–

My irises were purple. No. It doesn't make sense, I wasn't controlling this. I wasn't making it happen, I've never done this before. The Sheriff pushes me forward letting go of my hair at the last minute, I fall to my knees only a foot away from him. The barrel of the gun is pressed into the back of my skull, “Make it stop or I'll make you stop” he threatens. I can hear Dean struggle against Scotty again, and in the corner of my eyes I see him finally pull away before turning around and punching the man right in the face. Scotty doubles over, but before Dean could do any more damage to anyone else Harvey grabs him.

“You can't kill her, we have to leave them both for it” Stacy argues. The ground seems to roar, the earth shaking so siverley I nearly fall to my hands. “I would stop if I could!” I admit, “I don't kno–” I cut myself off, a sudden deep memory making its way to the surface of my brain. A memory of a deceased corn field, a disaster I caused.

“Make it stop!” the sheriff spits. “I told you I don't know h–” Suddenly the gun is raised up and before I could do anything to stop it, the gun hits the side of my skull. My head feels like it explodes as I hit the ground, my eyes struggle to stay open. The last thing I see before it all goes dark again is Dean trying to lunge forward and the ground halting in its shaking.

My eyes flutter open, my horrible headache accompanied with an even worse head-ache. Both in my head and outside. At this point my brain should be a scrambled mess.

My wrists were zip tied to a thinner part of the tree trunk my back rested on. It was just beginning to be dark out. I move my gaze from above me to across me, Dean sitting against a different tree in the same position I was in. His eyes widen and he attempts to move closer before grunting in frustration at the restrictions of his wrists, “You're awake. Are you okay?” He licks his lips, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll kill ‘em.”

I don't say anything, my head is too heavy. He's staring at me with wide eyes, fear clear in his irises. “‘You okay?” he asks again. I nod, my head hurts and I’m confused and upset, but I’m alive so I’m okay. He shakes his head, “No.” I look at him confused, I don't understand. He continues to shake his head, wetting his lips again, “Say it. I need to hear you say it,” he sounded breathless, “I need to hear you say you're okay.”

“Im okay” I say weakly. He sighs, relief clear in the way his shoulders drop. But I had a feeling he knew I wasn't being totally truthful.

He swallows roughly, “Can you see the scarecrow?” Despite my heavy head I look in each direction for the thing, until I can slightly see the post. “Dean” I start and I can hear my own voice wobble with fear, “It's not there.” He fights against his restraints, and I would join him in that effort if my head hasn't already given up on me. “I hope their apple pie is frickin’ worth it” he grumbles.

A shadow catches just behind Dean, I squint hoping I'm just seeing things from potential brain damage then the actual scarecrow. “Dean, I think it's behind you.” Forget everything I said and thought, I begin fighting against my own restraints, the zip ties digging into my wrists harshly. “Dean?” a familiar voice called out.

Sam’s tall figure comes into view as he rounds the tree Dean is tied to. Dean twists his neck oddly to see his brother, “Oh!” he sighs in relief, “Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.” Sam takes that as his chance to assess his brother's binding before pulling out his pocket knife, “‘You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he works on sawing the bindings. “Dandy” I respond, truly done with this all.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks his brother.

“I, uh–I stole a car.”

Dean laughs at that, “That's my boy!” His bindings finally break with a snap. Sam doesn't wait for his brother to get up as he walks the short distance to me, beginning to remove my own restraints. His eyes gaze down at me every now and then, most likely assessing the damage.

Deans at my side a breath later, squatting down to be at my level. He brings his hand carefully to my face, gently moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. Something feels dried and stiff there and I wonder if it's blood from being hit or just dirt. I tilt and roll my head away from him, the pain overwhelming even with the delicate touch.

My restraints snap above me, bits of the plastic tangling itself into my hair. My wrists are raw and red, just one more thing to add to the list. I place my hands on the cold dirt, trying to pick myself up but my ears begin to ring and my vision spins. I sit back down again, huffing. Strong arms grab my arm and waist all but lifting me off the ground and onto my feet, “‘You got eyes on the scarecrow?” Dean asks, looking at his brother who shakes his head. “Alright, I can carry you, the clearing isn’t far off” Dean says looking down at me.

“That's ridiculous,” I shake my head, “I’ll slow you down. I’ll just push through, and we don't have time to argue this.” He grumbles, he doesn't like the idea. But again we don't know where the scarecrow is and we can't waste time bickering over stupid logistics.

I immediately regret not taking the offer. My brain feels like it's jumping around in my skull and swishing side to side as if on a boat. I feel like the orchard is spinning around me, tumbling over itself like one of those tunnels in a fun house.

“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about–” Sam pants lightly as we run, Dean having filled him in on the information we gathered. “It's the source of its power” I finish, my voice feeling far away even in my own ears. “So let’s find it and burn it.” Sam annonces.

“Nah, in the morning.” Dean counters, “Let’s just shag ass before Leather face catches up.”

We come to a skidding stop, just at a clearing of trees the four jerks from before as well as a couple others stand guard. Sam nudged us in a different direction just to be met with a wall of people, we were surrounded. “Did the whole fricking town come to watch us die?!” I exclaim, “Just let us leave!” I was so tired of this, I just want to go to a motel or something and shower off today's fears before falling into a deep sleep. “It’ll be over quickly” Harley says, and if it was meant to be comforting it was not working. “It's for the greater go–” suddenly a sickle is pushed through his stomach. His mouth opens in shock, blood dripping down the sides. Screams come from all around us, and I hardly know if I was screaming too.

He’s raised off the ground before the sickle is quickly pulled out. Stacy still stands there screaming, watching her dying husband on the floor. But soon her screams are cut off too, the sickle going through her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open too as blood not only spurts out of her neck but spills down like a waterfall onto her shirt. The air fills quickly with all the blood's metallic scent. The scarecrow does not retract its weapon, keeping the curved blade in her neck as it grabs onto Harley's collar dragging them both behind it.

Shock had frozen us in place, but apparently not the townspeople. “Come on let’s go,” Dean insists, leading us away.

Morning came by far too slowly but at least we passed the time by using the stolen car to drive back to the college to get the Impala before returning to the orchard. It all went by so weirdly, I knew I was moving but it felt like I never left that road outside the expanse of apple trees. I hardly remember the drive there or the drive back, everything still spun and the ringing only got louder. I think I might have lost my mind.

We stand in front of the sacred tree though I don't remember how we found it. The tree had Vince’s tattoo printed onto it, that was a tell tale sign it was the right one. Sam pours gasoline all over it, Dean picks up a long branch lighting it on fire before throwing it onto the tree. “‘Think the towns ‘gonna be okay?” Sam asks as the flaming tree roars with the crackling flames. “Don’t know” Dean shrugs, but I think the answer was apparent to all of us.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam adds.

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean answers.

We walk back to the car leaving the burning tree behind us, though I hope it won’t spread and cause a whole forest fire, “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asks.

“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Sam explains, “But, Jess and Mom—they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me, Y/N. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

I give Sam's arm a little squeeze, it was a really sweet speech.

“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Dean smiles, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder who hits it away. They fall into a fit of laughter, “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.” Sam says between laughs.

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten us out.” Dean scuffs.

“Right.”

[bellalaufeyson69]

Steven Grant x Reader | Darling pt. 1

Darling pt. 1

Description: Steven and Yn are paired to be a fake couple for a mission.

Wc ♡ 2,830

Masterlist ♡

Warnings ♡ none

————

Steven and I had been friends for about a year now. Ever since he and the boys were recruited to the avengers him and I have gotten along amazingly. I’d even consider him to be my best friend. We do everything together, between going to the bank, and getting some coffee for the team. It’s so refreshing to have someone like this, not to mention he always makes me laugh.

Though here we are now standing in front of Nick Fury as he just spilled the news of a new mission. A mission where Steven and I had to be boyfriend and girlfriend. “May I ask why? No- you know not that- I don’t mean- it’s not a problem!-“ Steven questioned the man his face turning red as he spewed out a bunch of words. He was now looking at me panicked and apologetic hoping I wouldn’t have taken offense to his question.

I laughed and shrugged it off, I was curious why also. “Because, it’s a publicity thing. We’re trying to take the heat off of Tony after his incident.” He began as if it made perfect sense. He seemed to have noticed our expressions of confusion and furthered the point. “People will be shocked at two avengers dating each other, I’ve been made aware of videos some fans have made, stories even.” He laughed to himself at this as if it were the craziest thing he’d heard. “They really want you two together, so we figure this will get a lot of attention and take it off of Tony,” he informed more seriously now.

I glanced at Steven who’d been staring at fury with his mouth propped in a trance. “So, what does it mean to be fake dating? How often do we have to act like it, and how far do we take it?” I questioned maturely. I knew I needed to know the information for the sake of the mission. “Also how long,” I added as the question came up.

He sighed at all the questions. “Alright alright,” he gestured me to slow my roll. “It means as far as anyone outside of this room knows, you two are together romantically. You have to act like it whenever you’re in front of someone else, unless it’s me. As for how far, I’m not sure I have the grounds to say that…” he said more awkwardly which made me feel rather embarrassed. I hadn’t meant I’d offer myself up to have sex with Steven for the sake of the mission but I fear I sounded like that’s what I meant. “Just do whatever you’d do with a boyfriend,” he said and gave me a nod as if to say this conversation was over. With a gruff expression he’d then left us to comprehend everything.

“Well… it’s a good thing we’re so close.” Steven began with a shocked laugh as he turned to look at me. I felt my cheeks heat up because this all still felt so intimate. The weirdest part of it all is the fact that I’m kind of excited about it. I wonder if he is too. “I think we skipped a few steps though,” he chuckled trying to lighten up the situation.

I smiled and laughed back. “Yeah… the fact that we can’t tell the team that this isn’t real either is just crazy to me,” I admitted while smiling to let him know I wasn’t angry and more just talking about the bosses choices. “Like, can you imagine what Kate is going to say? Ugh” I groaned out at the thought and as I said that Steven responded with an “ohmygosh” simultaneously.

Kate had always teased Steven and I about dating. Yes, prior to this mission and nick fury, we already knew about the avengers fans making ship edits of me and Steven. Because of Kate. How she came across that? Who knows. From that, and how close we were she’d always messed with us saying we might as well just put the label on our relationship. “Before we go out there, what’s the limits?” I asked Steven to try and get a gauge of how to act.

He stood there for a moment stumped, his cheeks reddened as he thought about it. “Uhm…” he was pretty flustered now I could tell he was extremely nervous. “I mean… he said to act how we would if we were really in a relationship… I just feel like I’m not good at acting, so I should probably be as authentic as possible y’know?” He began through a bright red face, his voice was so soft and sheepish. “Personally I’m rather affectionate, you know the hugging, kiss on the cheek, kind of thing yeah?” His eyes bore into mine as if he was hopelessly reading every single minor expression I could be making to find out if I was on the same page.

I nodded slowly taking in what he’d said. “So… we’ll hug and kiss on the cheek?” I wasn’t sure just how far Steven wanted to go but I felt like this wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to push but to be authentic this just wasn’t me. Although I won’t be going the full 100 on how I act in a relationship because I’m extremely affectionate.

He seemed to be conflicted, like he wanted to speak further but couldn’t bring himself to. I waited for a moment watching as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I don’t want to be pushy at all so please tell me no if you don’t want to but… I feel like kissing could be helpful too? Just… everything… arm around the shoulder, holding hands at the store… stuff I would do if I was your boyfriend,” he explained nervously he seemed to be breathing just a little heavier too. With his history of anxiety and panic attacks I could tell he was definitely pretty anxious right now.

I nodded in agreement. “No yeah, you’re completely right, I was gonna say the same thing. I just feel like real life relationships, well for me at least, are more affectionate like that. Plus if we have to act like it even here at home it helps to make it more realistic,” I reassured him with a bright and happy attitude so he would relax a little bit more. It definitely worked as I watched his expression melt and shoulders sink in a more relaxed state.

He bit his tongue and nodded. “So.. shall we?” He asked gesturing to the door while holding his hand out for me to take.

I couldn’t help but giggle at this, it just felt so weird being intimate with my best friend like this. He laughed too, as our fingers intertwined. Neither of our smiles left even after the laughter stopped. We walked out of the meeting room hand in hand and headed for the common area where we were spotted by Rhodey and Tony. “Woah! Didn’t know you had it in you Tomb Buster!” Tony smugly remarked through a grin, he nudged Rhodey with his shoulder. “So he can talk to girls,” he laughed but Rhodey seemed uncomfortable that Tony would say that in front of Steven so he just kept quiet and gave Steven a little nod and smile.

“What?” Steven’s brows rose in confusion and he had an innocent open mouthed smile on his face. “Is that some sort of bet or sumthin’?” He asked quietly, I could tell that Tony made him nervous. Probably because their personalities were pretty much polar opposite.

Tony leaned against the counter of the bar and held his chin in his palm, while inspecting Steven and I. “Yeah, always thought you were too… hmm.. shy I’ll say,” he continued on more seriously. “But hey! Good for you man, and YN too?! Got yourself a spicy one, isn’t that right reindeer games?” He announced to the corner of the room where we’d turned to see Loki in an armchair book in hand, and a very disinterested expression.

At the mention of his name he didn’t move, but his eyes made contact with us. He glared at Tony which would be the only form of a response he was going to get. “Idiot.” He grumbled to himself before looking back down to his book.

I felt very awkward, I just knew my face was a dead give away of that too. “What uh… what’s that supposed to mean?” Steven tried to be nonchalant but it was obvious he was a little displeased with the comment.

Tony lowered his head to Steven with a grin. “Common, you haven’t seen those two when they’re drunk? They’re like me on a Friday night,” he smirked over at me his eyes trailing my figure then back up. “Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He was so cocky the smugness dripped off of him.

I gave him a warning look then quickly glanced to Loki to find him staring right back clearly active in this conversation. He quickly turned away to look back at his book. “Thanks for making things awkward, maybe for your birthday I can get you a filter.” I joked through pursed lips while patting his shoulder.

“Filters are for coffee, you can get me a condom tough.” He said it with a mischievously smile before shielding himself from my hand knowing I’d be quick to retaliate with that comment. I smacked his chest but hit his hands as he blocked me.

“You’re disgusting Tony Stark!” I laughed and smacked one more time, he laughed hysterically as he dodged my attacks.

He held his hands up in defense as he walked backwards toward the hallway. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right…” he softly apologized in a more serious tone. “Condoms are gross, hate the feeling, I’ll just go in all natural. Save your money, get me a better gift,” he spoke really fast while laughing before running into the hall as I lunged forward ready to smack again.

Rhodey took this as his sign to follow, I assume he was in the middle of a conversation with a very bored Stark who’d used me as a way to slip away from it. I looked to Steven as he watched Tony leave, he swallowed then slowly turned to me, his eyes darting to Loki on the couch then me again. “Me and Loki… have hooked up a few times… that’s all,” I felt the need to tell him the truth, otherwise things just felt very tense and awkward.

He nodded still not seeming very happy with the answer. “It’s nothing to worry about, we just kept each other company, filled each others wild and passionate needs,” Loki informed from his chair not looking up from his book.

Steven’s lips were a straight line as he stared at Loki on the couch. His brow furrowed slightly. “Well I feel like we should be mature about this and just say that YN and I are together now…” he said to Loki with a hint of malice in his tone.

Loki laughed from his spot a simple ‘Heh!’ With an amused expression he’d closed his book and stood up. “That’s interesting because we frequently talk about our lives and you’d never mentioned anything about a special person, not to mention a boyfriend,” he walked closer now zeroing in on me.

“Well I don’t tell you everything…” I tried my best to sound real but I knew the way I spoke was so artificial.

His eyes lowered, squinting skeptically. It felt like he could read right through me, like he knew something was off. “You know who I am love, you can’t fool me.” He said with a lowered, grizzly voice. And with that he’d left, his fingers brushing my hips, leaving me with a very bothered Steven.

He looked pissed now. He turned his from me and took a breath. I placed my hand on his arm and pulled him to look at me. “That guys a royal ass,” he began to vent through a scowl. “He acted like I wasn’t even here! Clearly flirting with you right in front of me when he knew you were my girlfriend! Well- you know-“ he began to stutter toward the end because he didn’t want me thinking this was too real to him.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean,” I soothed my hands both on his upper arms now. “Listen to me, Loki is just like that. He probably won’t stop either. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s what we’re working with… I mean I don’t think either of us expected… this..”

He took a deep breath while looking at me. “I know, I know,” he seemed sad, and mad at the same time. Just completely bothered. “I don’t like it… the way he acts around you… I don’t want him-“ he began and paused for a second. “I don’t want him touching you.” he admitted though it was more dominant and stern than I’d ever expected from Steven Grant, and I hadn’t noticed but I’d unintentionally grinned at it. When he’d seen my face he couldn’t help but smile back. “Why are you smiling?” He said through a toothy grin.

“Nothing!” I defended playfully. “I just didn’t expect you to be so demanding,” I teased there was a hint of flirtatiousness to my tone.

He seemed to have picked up on it very quickly and he perked up. “Well you just haven’t known me so intimately before,” he started now in a more playful and upbeat mood. “I happen to be a very fierce and bold boyfriend,” he joked and put emphasis on the words to make himself seem more tuff which made me laugh.

“Ohh, wow, that’s pretty hot,” I went all out on this one and as soon as I said it I felt my heart start to race. This didn’t feel like a fake thing at all, it was so confusing. Steven’s flirting seemed so real, but that’s the point isn’t it? I can’t help but think that maybe this isn’t just the mission talking though… that maybe it’s really him. He seemed genuinely jealous at Loki’s flirting. This was the time to make or break this.

His brow rose and his confidence seemed to have grown. “Oh yeah? I’ll remember that then darling,” he flirted back his voice was lowered now and he’d stood so closely. The tensions were thick as we stared at each other. His hands slowly made their way around my waist before resting on my back, he pulled me into his chest and hugged me resting his head on top of mine. I relaxed my head to his chest and wrapped my arms around him back, feeling as he began to sway us. “If anyone else tries to flirt with my girlfriend I think I’ll go mad.” He huffed and it seemed more like a confession than a statement.

I didn’t know how to respond to this, so I go along with it? Do I joke it off? What if someone else is in here? Then I’d have to go along. I decided to go with my gut, “I’ll beat them up for you.”

He chuckled at his and his thumbs traced circles around my back. “I always knew I’d have to fight off the competition for you,” he didn’t seemed to have realized what he was saying until it was too late and I could feel his body tense once he did.

“Oh yeah?” I poked playfully. “You always knew huh? Seems like you’ve thought about it for a while now.” I commented to mess with him. I knew he’d be flustered but I thought it was cute.

His thumbs stopped moving and I could tell he was deep in thought. “Uhm…” he started but couldn’t seem to grasp how to reply. “I just-“ I leaned my head back to look at him, right then Bucky had walked in giving a greeting nod and sitting on the couch to readjust his arm. I looked back at Steven with an amused grin knowing how we truly did have to be all show about this fake relationship. He looked at me softly, his eyes bouncing between mine then down to my lips. This simple pattern of minuscule movements made my heart flutter. His breathing picked up as he slowly leaned closer to me his eyes now fixatives on my lips before he finally fully kissed me. It was a hungry, long and passionate kiss, his hands placed on my cheeks and mine on his chest. Once we’d finished he leaned his head back just a small bit, still very close to me, close enough I could feel his warm breath brushing my face. He traced circles with his thumbs on my cheeks while he stared at my face in awe, a smile slowly forming on his lips which I mirrored. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it for a while.”

————

[multistanisms]

Opportune Moment || Teen Wolf

FANDOM: Teen Wolf

PAIRING: Stiles Stilinski x Peter Hale

WORD COUNT: 5,817

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: Scott joining the alpha pack, Lydia and Danny dating the twins and the body count of Beacon Hills rising from a darach has Stiles unable to enjoy the Winter Dance. Getting air leads to a brief conversation with the one person Stiles doesn’t want to talk to right now - Peter Hale.

TAGLIST: @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

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The music had been fine, the punch still as blandly boring as the previous two years. But when Lydia got up to dance with freaking Aiden, Stiles had officially given up on enjoying the dance. There was no possible low lower than watching her dance with someone who had tried to kill his friend (although he doubted Cora considered him a friend) and had helped in killing another. He’d grabbed a cup of the punch and found his way outside. With a sigh, he hopped up, moving to sit on the railing outside of the back of the gym. Tonight had been a total failure in terms of romance. Again. Or well, that was the cover he was still trying to force himself to play. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another getting in his way. He stared at his cup of punch for a while, then shook his head. “Maybe I should give up,” he wondered, taking a long drink of the beverage.

“Giving up isn’t much like you, Stiles.” The voice made Stiles flail and almost caused the teen to fall backwards off the railing. What didn’t almost happen was the remainder of his punch splashing over his outfit. Turning his eyes towards the source, he laid eyes on the one person he wasn’t sure he wanted to see at the moment. Dark jeans hugged the male’s body perfectly, as well as a long sleeved grey shirt, which was a surprisingly normal piece of the wolf’s style, clad the form of the oldest wolf in town; Peter Hale. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Stiles jumped down, looking at the now ruined clothes, shaking the punch off his hands as best he could before wiping them on the pants of his suit.

“Seriously?” he grumbled. He looked back at Peter and gave an irritated look. “Are you happy now? My suit is ruined.”

The wolf raised his hands, giving a soft shrug. “My apologies. I didn’t expect you to throw punch all over yourself if I said hello.” He gave a chuckle as he moved to get closer to the little platform. Despite being a wolf, the movement made Peter look more like a cat. The image of a glowing eyed kitten hissing made Stiles laugh to himself before he realized what Peter had said and frowned a little.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say hello, Peter. You spewed a bunch of crap and scared the living hell out of me.” Stiles snapped a little, letting his eyes return to his punch soaked clothes. He looked up a moment later, to see the wolf’s brow arched. “What?”

“I was honestly expecting you to at least try to enjoy yourself this year.” Peter said calmly, raising his eyebrows together and kind of swaying his head.

Somehow, Stiles found the will to roll his eyes and exaggerate the movement with a slight movement of his head; a clear knock off of what he had dubbed the ‘signature Hale eye-roll’. “Yeah, because that’s so easy to do when your best friend is siding with killers, your dad is missing and your friends are dying.”

“Is part of it perhaps also Lydia?” Peter inquired, eyes glancing at the cracked door, where a slow song was playing from the dance.

“No, no, NO. Don’t you dare say her exquisitely beautiful name, alright? You have no right, and I mean no right whatsoever, to have her name even blink across your mind. Not after what you did to her.” He crossed his arms defiantly. Yes, he might have started moving on, but he would also always see Lydia as beautiful, and he would defend her; no matter the cost.

The oldest Hale’s head cocked to one side as he arched his brow again. “Stiles, technically I did nothing. I just tapped into her abilities.”

“Abilities she wasn’t even aware she had until you used her to bring your wolf ass back to life.” Stiles said, making a point by cocking his own head and shooting the wolf a look that was clearly daring the were to argue.

“It was a move of strategy, Stiles.” Peter said. “And it worked out pretty well, seeing as my coming back saved Jackson. And yourself. Or have you forgotten that?”

“Yeah, well, even if you did save everyone’s collective asses by helping with Jackson, your strategy sucked, okay?” Stiles said, clearly annoyed that Peter was sticking around. His head shook as he thought about it. “You made people think she was crazy.” He leaned back on the rail and huffed a little. “Basically ruined her life.”

“I wasn’t aware that being Queen Bee made or broke a person’s life. Especially someone as brilliant as Lydia. And if we’re being honest, Stiles, anyone who thought Lydia was crazy were the actual crazy ones.” Peter said. He didn’t seem to notice Stiles faltering as he defended the redhead, giving a shrug. “But, I didn’t come for Lydia. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Well, as okay as it can be given our current, blood thirsty visitors…” he amended, giving a look as if he was scolding himself for a second. “But clearly everything is not okay if you’re out here moping.”

Stiles gaped at the older wolf for a moment and scoffed, looking away. “I can go in whenever I’m ready.” He then glanced back at Peter. “Shouldn’t you be like, trying to form a plan of action with Derek? I didn’t think he’d let you out of his sight due to a third of you dying in a coma-like state.” When he got an arched brow as a reply, he paused. Shit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Cora had been a godsend for Derek and Peter both, and now they were losing her slowly. He looked down. “I mean, with Isaac here, and Scott, what’s the point of you hanging around?”

“Isaac came tonight because Derek explained it would make him feel better if Isaac didn’t miss it because of him.” Peter said, shrugging a little. “Although I doubt Isaac is having much fun himself at this point.”

“Wait, why would Isaac have missed the dance because of Derek?” Stiles asked, giving a confused look as he tilted his head.

“He didn’t want Isaac to miss something like this because Derek couldn’t attend as his date.” Peter answered simply. “Believe me, dragging the kid out for a tux was no easy task.” His eyes were once more at the door, as if he was waiting on a reply from the formerly abused beta, and when they returned to Stiles, the human was giving him a droll stare, as if he was speaking a known fact. “Something wrong, Stiles?”

“That just confirmed my suspicions…” Stiles rolled his eyes. He supposed it could happen – falling in love with someone who was loyal to a fault. His mind kind of trailed off from there though, becoming distracted by helplessly erotic images of the alpha and Isaac. He was so lost in his head that he jumped and flailed when Peter reached to touch his shoulder. Of course, the force of his jump and the flailing put him off balance, and he flinched as he waited for the ground to smack him, but instead he felt himself grabbed about the waist. Opening his eyes, he blinked upon realizing Peter had actually caught him. ‘Okay, seriously, it’s getting increasingly harder to hate this guy!’ He thought as he stared up at the wolf for a moment. “Uhm, thank y-” his voice was cut off as the older male leaned in to kiss him. A soft, gentle connection; not forceful or demanding, just…tender. Perhaps even a little needy and uncertain. That kind of connection between their lips made the teen’s heart pick up in rhythm a bit. He liked it, and as much as he would deny he had even entertained the thought, it wasn’t like what he’d thought it would be. Dep down, he knew he wanted more. So much so that he tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss. Of course, it was at this moment that he realized he was kissing Peter freaking Hale. Flailing again, he shoved at the wolf, almost frantic to get away before he asked Peter to take him home. “Let me go, now.”

“Stiles-”

“Let me GO!” Stiles snapped, to which the wolf sighed, rolled his eyes and promptly released the human without a word. Stiles fell back, ass meeting concrete and a soft hiss leaving him at the pain. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You said to let you go.” Peter said innocently, although the hint of the smartass Peter that Stiles had come to know was evident in the tone. Stiles wasn’t sure if it pissed him off or it made him want to smile. So he forced his face still and replied as he stood up and dusted at his clothes.

“No, I mean what the hell was that? Before you dropped me.”

“I believe it’s called a kiss, Stiles.” Peter replied, once more back to his usual sarcastic self and shrugging a shoulder up. “Unless that terminology has been eradicated by your generation at some point.”

“Okay, let me lay this out here for you, wolf man. I don’t want you. At all.” Stiles said, clearly angry. But was the anger at himself or Peter? He couldn’t tell. He really didn’t care at the moment. The anger would cover the lie with ease.

“Then why did you kiss back?” Peter asked, head tilting. Stiles could see the slightest curve of a smirk on Peter’s lip. Damnit, why did he have to do that?

“You caught me off guard.” Stiles replied firmly, raising his eyebrows together and rolling his head in the tiniest way, almost like a twitch of annoyance.

“Or you actually wanted to kiss back and now you don’t want to admit it.” The wolf said with a slight tilt of his head in the same direction. The smirk was becoming a bit more prominent in the wolf now.

Stiles gave an aggravated sound, his hands clenching in front of him as if he might try to strangle the wolf. “Okay, you know what? Rule number one of me not killing you with wolfsbane. You will not, under any circumstance, scenario or matter of life or death, kiss me with those talented but murderous and lying lips. Understand?” His voice raised a little in volume and pitch, arms flailing as he spoke, as if he needed to gesture to make his point more valid.

Peter actually seemed offended at the little speech. His head even straightened to its proper position. “So says the human that returned the kiss. Although, if I’m being honest, that murderous and lying bit hurt…”

“I’m gonna show you hurt if you ever even think about kissing me again.” Stiles said seriously. He didn’t need this. He couldn’t get involved with Peter. But as with all irony in life, he had to move on from his affection for Lydia by falling for Peter Hale. He’d been pushing it out of his mind for almost a year. Why did he have to be reminded with such a trivial thing as a kiss? Damn, his luck was shitty these days. Right now though, he wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. He didn't need that intrusive thought to win. For one thing, it wasn’t attractive. Another reason was that he kind of liked his hair long.

“I get the feeling you’d return another kiss if I could manage to steal it.” Peter said with an all out smirk. He shook his head as he chuckled, reaching to help the human up. He saw the reluctance in the teen and rolled his eyes in the perfected version of Stiles’ previous attempt at the roll of eyes the Hale family had. “Oh come on, Stiles, I’m not that predictable. Although it would probably make you feel better if I was.”

Stiles kept quiet at the comment, because Peter was right; it would make him feel better if he could easily predict Peter's moves. Instead, he let his eyes move between Peter’s face and the extended hand, and reluctantly took the wolf’s hand, only to be yanked onto his feet and have the wolf lean in again. He tensed on pretext before deciding it would be best if he just turned away when the wolf whispered into his ear.

“If I kiss you again, Stiles, it won't be until you ask for it.” Peter’s voice was so soft, so undeniably sexy, that a shiver ran through Stiles. There was most definitely a need of some kind behind those words. And Stiles certainly didn’t understand what the hell it was. Before he could reply, Peter pulled away, reaching up to fix the tie and continuing. “Go back to the dance, Stiles. Ignore the twins as best you can. Try to enjoy yourself at least a little tonight?” Stepping back when the tie was straightened, he gave the human a soft smile and nodded his head at the gym door. “Go on.”

Stiles openly gaped at the wolf for a moment. Then his body began moving backwards, as if responding to the suggestion without Stiles’ conscious agreement to do so. His head tilted to one side, although whether mocking Peter or just curious, the human couldn’t tell. He jumped as he bumped into something and turned, flailing, to see a trash can knocked against the brick wall of the school. He silently asked who put a trash can so close to a rail, although in any other moment it would have seemed a stupid question. Stopping to glare at the receptacle for a moment, he made sure to right it properly before turning back to look at Peter again. Although he’d deny it if asked, he felt a sudden sadness in his chest to find that the platform was empty of the wolf. Giving a sigh and lightly shaking his head, he sidestepped the can and moved for the door to the gym. As he laid a hand on the frame of the metal door, he paused and looked back, hoping that he would catch another glimpse of the wolf. But still, there was nothing. Not even a trace that Peter had been there with him just moments before. He’d just turned around to finish entering the school when he jumped, startled by Scott standing in front of him, yanking at his sleeve and tugging him over to the side of the door. By the grin on his best friend’s face, it was something good. Thank god. With everything going on, they needed good news of some kind. “What is it, man?”

“Allison!” Scott said, his grin beyond excited as he watched his friend. “I overheard her telling Lydia she still loves me!” The pure excitement was damn near palpable, and it made Stiles feel a range of emotions in one moment. The human sufficed to roll his eyes at his best friend.

“So go talk to her, man.” He said. “I’ll be fine.” He waved his hand dismissively when Scott seemed to hesitate, brown eyes watching Stiles doubtfully. Stiles sighed and shook his head. “Look, seriously, Scott. Something has to go right for us here. And I am not going to let you sit it out with me when you could be getting the girl of your dreams back. Now go.” When the wolf still seemed unsure, Stiles gave a sigh. “Scott, if you don’t go talk to Allison, I’m going to lace your drink with wolfsbane and shoved mistletoe down your throat.” His look and voice were serious, and finally Scott nodded and left to go find the huntress. Going to the long table of snacks, Stiles scooped up a fresh cup of punch, then found his way around the gym until he was at an empty table in the back corner. Sipping at his cup before setting it on the table, he sat in the very corner chair. From this new position, the human could see all of his peers. For roughly five or six songs, maybe even seven, Stiles sat quietly, watching and trying to pay attention to his surroundings. Yet all he could do was get lost to his thoughts. As much as he tried to ignore it…he couldn’t. Or rather, his brain wouldn’t let him. The entirety of his focus kept getting sidetracked to one thing; or the aspects of one thing, bringing with it the conflicting mix of emotions that was spawned by the memory his brain wouldn’t let him ignore.

Peter’s kiss.

Surprised by it or not, it was a default action in Stiles to try and cover it up in his mind. To hide how much he’d liked that contact. But his mind had other plans tonight, and just kept dragging him back to that moment. Like a scratched DVD that only played to a certain point and then replayed one scene over and over. Everything about the kiss was embedded in his brain, and he couldn’t not think about it. The warmth of Peter’s lips, how gentle the wolf had been in kissing him, the way his heart had sped up and his body had ached to draw Peter closer and never let go. Most of all, the emotion that the kiss had drawn out of him. Taking a deep breath, he let it out as a sigh, his honey eyes falling to stare at the glass of punch. Raising one hand, he traced his middle finger around on the rim as he thought about it. He’d been denying it when it made itself known for nearly three years, since he’d been offered the bite. The affections for Peter that seemed to do anything except go away had been ignited when Peter first saw right through him in the midst of his originally playing cool for his best friend's sake. He had, at one time, thought he’d liked Derek, but then the alpha had started turning everyone and Isaac was soon almost constantly with the older wolf. And it wasn’t until he’d seen Peter helping kill – cure, Stiles reminded himself - Jackson that he even realized who his feelings were for. He’d built up sturdy walls on purpose; anything to keep from acknowledging his growing emotions for Peter. However, now it seemed as though the base of those walls was faltering in the design…and they were weakening faster than Stiles could repair it. As if the kiss had blown a hole in his defenses and it was only a matter of time before they finally crumbled into dust. All that was left now was a aching lingering in his body, his mind, of what he wanted. More. Another kiss, to soak in the warmth of the safe feeling he had when he was with Peter. Being honest with himself for the first time with the situation, he just flat out wanted Peter. The closest he could assimilate it to was how much Scott wanted, would always want, Allison.

With that comparison, Stiles raised his eyes to look around the gym floor. It took him a moment to observe the amount of happiness on the dance floor. Allison was holding Scott, her head on his shoulder as they whispered to each other. Aiden was twirling Lydia gently, the banshee’s eyes closed as she smiled. And Danny was tucked against Ethan as the two shared their own moment, laughing quietly together. Stiles actually shook his head. ‘This is ridiculous.’ He thought and moved to stand. Whether he meant himself or watching the happiness around him, he didn’t know or care anymore. Taking the last bit of punch from the cup in a single drink, he set the now empty cup on the table of confetti and glitter. Hand reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys, twirling them on his finger and catching them each time they fell towards his palm. Moving to the parking lot and heading for his jeep, he was prepared to go home; the only sound as he walked was the jingling of his keys as he twirled them. Finally looking up as he neared his car, he froze in place, his eyes widening a little as he stared at where his jeep was sitting parked. He wasn’t staring at the vehicle so much as the figure leaning against the back of it in such a calm manner. Waiting casually, as if he belonged there. Even yards from the man, Stiles could feel his body react, his skin warming as if an electric charge had filled the air and made his blood move faster. Everything Stiles wanted was standing right there, as if he had known he would be leaving. That thought alone had the teen’s heart changing into a much more erratic beat, and he stood in place, frozen by indecision. But then Peter turned his head as if sensing he was being watched, and blue hues found Stiles’ gaze with ease. In that moment, the indecision broke and Stiles couldn’t help himself. Starting forward at a brisk pace, he made his way to where Peter was and upon stopping in front of the man, reached up to pull the wolf into another kiss. A delighted little hum escaped him as he was kissed back, his arms moving naturally to wrap at the man’s neck as he tilted his head and was granted permission to deepen the contact. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away until his lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and as he gulped it in, he looked at Peter with a serious and hungry expression. “Take me home with you, Peter. I want you to.” When the former alpha only arched a brow at him, Stiles motioned his head in a ‘you have got to be kidding me’ manner. He then raised his hand with the keys, dangling them a few inches from the wolf’s face. “Don’t make me say it again.” The tone in his voice made it clear there were no negotiations, no debating. He wanted this, and Peter had damn well better give it to him. For a moment, Peter watched him, and then the brow fell from its arch and Peter took the keys. With a light smile and a nod, Stiles moved to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding in.

Seeing Peter slip into the driver’s seat made Stiles smile a little more. When the wolf paused and looked at him, he tilted his head as the other spoke. “Stiles are you-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I swear to God, Peter, I will poison you with wolfsbane, mountain ash and mistletoe.” The teen cut him off, turning to stare at Peter with raised brows. He was daring Peter to argue, but the wolf only laughed softly and started the jeep. Relaxing into his seat, he tugged his phone from his pocket and hit the volume button until it was set on vibrate. It was a kind of personal insurance that he’d be left alone for a while. Right now, hell for the next few hours or even the rest of the damn night, he needed to be away from the others. To have who he wanted for a change instead of trying to hide it. To forget about anything and everything going on. To just be a young man in love. That thought made him smile to himself. He was in love with Peter, even though there was a small part of him, the part that hated the idea of because it didn't fully trust the wolf, that kept asking, begging if he was sure. Turning his honey gaze towards the wolf as Peter drove, he gave a minute kind of nod. Yes, he was sure. He loved Peter, more than anything. And he didn’t fully understand why or how, but he knew he always would, that he would always need Peter. That if he gave himself to Peter, trusted him, the wolf would never let him go and would protect him instead of asking to be protected. That thought made a real smile curve his lips for the first time in a long while. 

The drive to the apartment downtown was quiet. Only the sound of the jeep kept the utter silence at bay. Stiles wasn’t sure what to say for a while. So when Peter let his hand fall, the teen glanced at the wolf before reaching with hesitance to take the slightly bigger hand in his own. He looked away as Peter squeezed his hand gently and looked over to give a soft smile. It wasn’t the usual kind of smile he’d come to know from the wolf. This one was soft, gentle, and it made the older wolf look more relaxed and calm. He had needed the contact, to feel truly connected, and it was clear that Peter had no problem giving him that. All the simple gestures, paired with the words the former alpha had said outside the school, their kiss and the fact that Peter had been waiting for him…Stiles suddenly realized Peter had been hinting at a confession without saying it. It was a vague way to do so, and frustratingly so, yet Stiles knew that it was also so very like something Peter would have done casually. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, leading the way but never giving the answer outright. Pulling into the complex, Stiles took a moment to look around. He was about to turn and look back at Peter when a familiar car caught his attention just a few spaces down from the jeep’s place. “You have the Camaro? How did you get Derek to give it to you?”

Peter looked over at it, shrugging nonchalantly. “Better than giving it to a total stranger that no one knows how well they’ll treat the car.” He mused. “I forget I have it from time to time.” His blue eyes finally tore from the car to look at Stiles. Tilting his head in a way that kind of read ‘not a big deal’, he opened the door and climbed out, going to the passenger side to open Stiles’ door.

“Like tonight?” Stiles asked as his door opened and he arched a brow at the wolf. The devilish smile on Peter's lips sent a shiver through him.

“No, tonight I left it here on purpose.” The older man said, holding up the jeep’s keys in front of the teen. “Something told me I wouldn’t need it.”

Stiles blinked as he looked up at Peter, unable to keep from smiling as he took the keys into his hand. “I'm glad you listened to that instinct.” 

“So am I.” Peter replied, reaching to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “ Are you staying the night or should I be ready to take you home?”

“I don't want to go home tonight.” Stiles surprised himself as he spoke, free hand moving to guide Peter's hand to his waist. “I want to stay with you, Peter.” He was fully aware of the way Peter stroked his fingers along the suit jacket. “Take me inside?”

“Happily,” Peter responded, the hand at Stiles’ side moving to lace their fingers together and walk with the teen up to the building. Stiles stays as close as possible as they moved, and Peter is grateful for the proximity of the younger man. “Thank you,” he voices quietly as he leads them into the elevator. 

The words catch Stiles’ attention, making him tilt his head. “Hm? What for?” 

“For being yourself.” Peter responds, lifting their entwined hands to kiss the back of Stiles’ hand. “For being, well…human.”

“Being human isn't so great,” Stiles countered,his tone sad as he leans into Peter's side. 

“Please don't say that,” Peter begged softly. “You are so important, Stiles. Don't ever doubt that.”

“Everyone always has to save me. I can't do anything like you or Derek or even Allison.”

“You're the reason everyone has survived, though. Your plans almost always work. You always think of something or find something we need.” Peter's voice is quiet as he speaks, reluctant to move when the elevator opens but leading the way to his apartment door. “Whether the others show it or not, I will do everything in my power to make you are yourself the way I do. To make you understand how important you are to me if nothing else.” He's aware of Stiles’ attention on him, his inner wolf content to have that much at least, and steps aside to let Stiles’ inside. 

As soon as the door closed, Stiles felt safer than he had in over two years. It seemed into his body like a hot shower when you're cold, and he finds himself sighing in relief. He takes the time to look around, eyes slamming in the difference of Peter's living space versus the loft where Derek and the rest of the pack resided. “It's so calm here.” He let his fingers brush over the mantle of the fireplace, pausing to take in the slightly charred images in new frames. “Is this…?” His voice died, unable to form the words. 

“Some of the few photos I could save.” Peter finished with a nod. “My nieces and nephews, my sister and brothers. I have the remaining ones in the hall. My parents, a family one from Christmas the year before the fire…” He points at each of them, his own voice twinging on ache as his lips barely curve up; not quite a smile from the weight of his memories. “This is what's left of them.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes. I didn't have the best family environment, but they were family, and you only get one, you know?” He can see the curiosity behind Stiles' eyes, is very aware of the effort the young man takes to not ask. “That part of my past is for another time, Stiles. Tonight isn't about that.” He doesn't move when Stiles steps closer, allowing himself to be pulled into an emotional kiss, his hands finding purchase at Stiles’ hips. 

“You aren't alone anymore, Peter. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Stiles murmured, honey eyes locking on Peter's blue ones. “I love you, and I'm sorry it took so long to realize it.” 

“You don't have to apologize, Stiles.” 

“Maybe not, but I still want to make it up to you.” 

“Oh? What exactly is going on in that clever mind if yours, hmm?”

“Kiss me again and find out.” Stiles remarked with a smirk, fingers tugging at Peter's shirt, laughing out a moan when the older man obliges with ease. The rest of the night is little more than a blur, but Stiles is aware of the way he's practically worshipped over and over. He eventually falls asleep, curled securely against Peter with his head on the wolf's chest. 

The room is still dark when Stiles stirs, but there's just enough light behind the curtains to reveal that the sun was rising. Stretching, he relaxes and looks up at Peter, taking in how peaceful the man looks. His lips curl up into a smile, lifting his hand to rest it on Peter's cheek, thumb brushing over the stubbled skin. “My wolf,” he hums quietly, startling when Petered eyes open. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Only yours.” Peter promised, adjusting to steal a kiss. “And good morning. I didn't think you'd still be here.”

“Peter, why would I leave?” Stiles blinked in confusion. “Haven't we been building to this since we met?” He grins at Peter's responding arched brow, laughing quietly. “I know all about the mate thing with wolves; had to learn it when it came to Scott and Allison.” He answered, shrugging his free shoulder. “I just didn't think it could happen-”

“Don't doubt yourself, Stiles.” Peter pleads when he interrupts. “Please don't. You are so loyal, smart and fierce. You never give up, even when it looks terrible. You are the real backbone of the McCall pack, and you would be the perfect wolf.” 

“Wolf or not, I'm not sure how Scott will handle this. He may not want me in the pack.”

“Then he's a fool and doesn't deserve you.” Peter countered, pressing his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “Without you, I would not be here, same and calm. That darkness held me for so long, I'd given up trying to fight it. And then you came along.” His hand rests at Stiles’ side, fingers brushing over the soft skin there. “You are priceless to me, Stiles. Nothing is more important than you.” He lets Stiles tuck his head into his neck, eyes closing as he took in his mate's scent. 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers, k owing Peter will hear the emotion regardless. 

“What for?” Peter teases, fingers still mindlessly tracing over Stiles’ skin. 

“For seeing me.” Stiles answers, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “When everything started, it was so much, and I've always been on the sidelines of it all.”

“You fail to realize the significance of your role in Scott's survival, then. He would never have made it this far without you.”

“I should have said yes when you were alpha.”

“No.” The word is firm when Peter speaks it, pulling away just enough to lock his eyes on Stiles’. “I'm glad you said no, even if you were lying when you said it. Had I turned you, in that state, stuck in my own despair and darkness? I could have hurt you, and that I would never forgive myself for. I would rather die than hurt my reason for living.”

“No death talk,” Stiles scolded, tapping his index finger at Peter's lips. “You, Peter Hale, are not allowed to die. You are absolutely not allowed to leave me alone.” A pout distorted his face when Peter laughed quietly. “Don't laugh at me, I'm serious.”

“I'm not laughing at you, Stiles.” Peter countered, resting his forehead against Stiles’. “You're just so much like a wolf, that's all.” 

“Shut up and kiss me.” Stiles huffed, smiling when Peter listened. He was content to just stay like that the rest of the day, to shut the world and all the terrible things happening in Beacon Hills out for just a little longer. He wanted to just be happy for a little while longer, but the moment was shattered by his phone ringing, followed shortly by Peter's. “Damn it,” he cursed. 

“Don't worry, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right at your side.” 

“Promise?”

“I swear it.” Peter assured, stealing another long kiss before reaching to hand Stiles his phone. “We're in this together.” 

“At every opportunity.” Stiles added, grinning up at Peter as he swiped to answer the call.

[mammons-hubby]

THE OBEY ME BROTHERS WITH A MC WHO'S A PROFESSIONAL ASSASSIN

(I was able to recover up to Satan, the other three brothers are all new)

Lucifer:

When your resume said that you were a professional assassin he thought you would be intimidating, cold and serious.

He quickly realized he had thought wrong, as when you came all he saw was a noisy person who couldn't keep their nose on their own business.

He honestly thought he may have read the wrong paper, or that the wrong human had been called.

Lucifer also underestimated you, yes, you may be dangerous, but how dangerous could you possibly be against a demon?

This question would be answered, just as Belphegor's hands tried and reached around your neck.

In a quick, instinctive movement you were able to throw him on the floor. Even with his demon strenght, he was no match against your defense skills (although you later admit that the shocked you sent him into probably helped)

After that, Lucifer wouldn't worry as much to leave you out of sight, but to raise his ego, let him protect you!

Mammon:

Absolutely refused to believe a human could be so dangerous.

Yeah, humans were known to kill eachother, but c'mon, you totally didn't look the part!

Not only you didn't look like one, you also didn't act like one.

He would see the extent of your abilities when his usual troubles followed him on your date.

A quite terrifying which was in front of Mammon, quite angered and ready to strike-

Mammon was about to show off, after all, he wanted to impress his human!

But you didn't give him a chance, a quick punch to the nose and the witch fell to the floor unconscious.

He is literally speechless, he only snaps out of it when you hold his hand worried, then the biggest grin you've ever seen forms on his face, and he declares you the most badass human!

WILL use you to intimidate all who bother him, you're now Mammon's personal bodyguard.

Leviathan:

Your strenght and abilities as an assassin would be quickly discovered.

TSL competition, you know how it goes, in a fit of jealously and rage, Leviathan goes to deal a fatal blow.

Too bad, he didn't consider the fact that you wouldn't retreat and instead, would run torwards him.

A moment of shock was all it took for you to grab him by his pseudojacket, and throw him in the air.

While he was there, he thought "What?!, how does a human have so much strenght?! That shouldn't be able to happen!"

Once he reached the floor (which didn't took that long) his shocked was subdued, filled by a deep feeling of shame, how could he just loose to a human in front of his brothers AND Diavolo?!

Goes straight to his room, it will take a while for him to soften up, but once he does, he will compliment you always. Expect a lot of questions about your job (and Leviathan infodumping about fictional assassins)

Satan:

He prides himself in always being logical, though, he makes an exception with your work.

Can't wrap his head around you hurting someone, even less killing them.

Of course, this was before that little incident of you refusing to make a pact with him.

Full of rage at your response, he spew a bunch of hurtful words and threats.

Threats that made something click inside of you.

The moment he went to grab your arm, a quick maneuver changed your positions, now, he found himself facing one of his bookshelves, taste of paper in his mouth because of the brute force of your movements.

After the shock, he saw red, thankfully Lucifer came in and the body swap happened.

Once the whole body swap deal is over, he is extremely interested in your work and has many questions.

How did you get started? For what reasons? Similar to Leviathan, he show you his favorite book assassins and asks if their portrayals are accurate.

Asmodeous:

He was actually interested in knowing your lore and about how you became an assassin, mostly because he likes gossip.

He also wanted to know how strong you were, and see how your muscles bulged.

Thankfully for him the opportunity to see your strenght in action would arrive soon.

You both were on a date, buying cute clothes for eachother to show off on Devilgram when all of sudden a few fans of Asmo come in and spot him.

At first, it all seems fine. They ask to take some pictures and start chatting with him.

But this is your date, and as so, Asmodeous politely excuses himself.

The fans leave except one insistent demon, who grabs Asmo's tightly.

Before he could say anything however, you grabbed the demons arm, twisted it and pushed him to the floor, putting all of your weight onto him.

After the whole ordeal was done, he hugged you tightly and fangirled severely.

You're gonna become a bodyguard for two now!

Beelzebub:

It all started with food, as it tends to do with Beelzebub.

Sadly for everyone in the house, he woke up cranky and on top of that, someone dared to eat his food.

As he searched for the culprit, which he quickly found (Mammon) he was ready to blow up on him.

But you got in the way, you tried to calm Beelzebub, but there was not calming the beast once it was bothered.

As he went to put his hand on your shoulder to make himself way to Mammon, you grabbed his arm with all your strenght, pushed him backwards, then slid that arm upon his back and pushed him once again this time on the floor.

This seemed to make him regain his senses a little bit, while making everybody watching you absolutely shocked.

Lucifer quickly went to the living room, where everything was happening and harshly reprimended both you and Beel, while stringing Mammon to the ceiling.

Once you make a pact with Beelzebub, he asks what type of training you do, and if you ever need help with anything.

You both become training buddies. Of course, he is still way stronger than you, but that doesn't mean you can't try and do your best to become stronger.

Belphegor:

The attic. That's where you were going to discover what had happened and how Belphie had been able to get out with just 6 pacts.

You found the door of the room to be open, and once you entered, an oppressive force could be felt all through the room.

You wait, and you hear a step, you feel it all around your body, someone is stalking you.

He jumps at you, going straight for your neck. But you're fast, so you move right in time for him to fall in front of you.

Quickly, you kick him hard in the guts, and as he bends over in pain, you punch him straight in the face, making him fall over.

He didn't have time to regain his strenght, just as he was to attack again, Lucifer and the others ran upstairs to see what was all the ruckus.

When the whole deal about Lilith is said and done, you apologize to him. Which felt strange, as he felt as if he should be the one apologizing, werent for your quick reflexes you would be dead.

English is not my first language, so please excuse me for any mistakes I may have made!

[nightswithkookmin]

Hi :) I was reading through your older posts on Jikook dynamics and some random cult member appeared and commented (2 years late) on a post where you talked about In The Soop stuff. So the comment (and all of the ones I've encountered in the wild) say that Jimin called Jungkook his brother and therefore we shouldn't be shipping them. Is there a specific time where Jm called Jk "his BROTHER" like brother brother? Or is it the use of the word dongsaeng and people just don't get the translation, or the word bro? I'm confused because this comment is seen everywhere but I have not heard Jm call Jk brother.

However, he did say that "the other hyungs might think Jungkook is JUST my dongsaeng"... so I dont know why these words are not taken into consideration since they are very loaded and Jimin is saying so much by saying so little.

Thanks!

Sigh

So I call people sisters all the time don't mean I won't open my legs for them to eat me out. I don't get it either. They probably didn't watch game of thrones 😕

Bts call each bro all the time. And yes, JM uses maknae dongsaeng my little bro to describe JK all the time.

Yet. YET. He's explicitly described his relationship with him as a little more than brothers and a little short of romance. But their cognitive dissonance won't allow them to be great. They just have to be dumb. Dumb in abundance. It rains on them.

Hybe went out of their way to shoot a whole run episode dedicated to explaining how there's a difference between someone being a real brother and an honorary brother yet it flew over their heads.

At this point they know their arguments have no legs to stand on and so they deploy the standard wiki how toxic manual for losers. Number one on the list is gaslighting. spew a bunch of nonsense and if they call you out spew more nonsense and don't make sense.

They bent over backwards called their own bias a liar for openingly stating he and JK drifted apart because JK refused to regard him as a mate. They called Tae a liar, said hybe staged the whole thing and had them lie on camera- why? Because somehow the two members they claim are most likely to be gay are also somehow the most easy to control💀

Make it make sense

Jimin says he was with Jk at 4am on Jk's birthday and they called him a liar then too cause they just couldn't believe their ship captain was frolicking around in bed with another member on the eve of his birthday.

We said years ago any hickey on JK was by Jimin and they couldn't believe that too even when Jk legit outed Jm for this twice

Jikook is not real, the evidence staring them right in the face is fake, let's make up shit to fit our narrative and use our numbers to intimidate and bully anyone who threatens are fantasy including Jikook themselves.

Their ship is real by force

[yooniesim]

Hey nonny, thank you for telling me this! And thank you for considering my well being 💜 I blocked the names out of your ask because... I'm going to be honest, I've never heard of either of these people, I have no idea who they are. I tried checking, but nothing comes up, so I assume the one that didn't deactivate has me blocked out of fear. This isn't unexpected- I've dealt with plenty of irrelevant blogs like this before. They would probably like a mention, but can't handle direct confrontation in DMs. They can only manage anons that agree with them, blow smoke up their asses, and make them feel good about themselves for what they're doing. It's much easier to delete anons that disagree with you so no one else sees them and only post the ones that do, creating whatever narrative you like. Don't worry- I'm well-versed in the tactics of a full-time terminally online hater lmfao. But that being said, off the top of my head, I'm drawing a blank for who they could be or what, if any, content they create. So if anyone is trying to start drama for clout... well, we know who it is, don't we?

(This reply got pretty long/rambly and isn't all relevant, so I'm going to throw the rest under a cut- sorry nonny!)

...I think it's very strange, that even when I've been mostly on hiatus for quite a long time, and haven't done shit, I'm still such a strong presence in so many minds. I don't quite get the obsession, though I imagine it's jealously and frustration that I somehow keep existing when they'd prefer I didn't. Which- I'd kind of understand if it was someone I had history with, but I really have no idea who these particular losers are, so I can only conclude that it's just a need for attention...? I don't know.

Look, I'll say right now, it's fine if someone thinks I'm not friendly. It's alright if they make posts, and answer a bunch of anons about me. People can spend their limited free time however they want, and if they choose to spend it on me for... some unknown reason... that's their right, even if it is odd in my opinion. I don't read these posts. I've been here long enough and pissed off enough people that there are quite a few bigots and generally not well-adjusted people obsessed with me that go to ask boxes to spew untrue nonsense, that morons like the OPs you mentioned gladly eat up, and there's nothing I can do about that. As much as simblr loves to pretend otherwise... it loves drama and toxicity, it loves hating on acceptable targets when they get the chance, and they really love a good circlejerk. It thrives on finding the next conflict, especially if it gives them the chance to feel superior to someone else. That won't change, and as long as it's like that, people like the OPs and posts like the ones they made will continue to exist.

And as much as it sounds that way, I'm not coming at this from purely a lecturing standpoint. I know this so well because, yes- as I've mentioned many times- I've been in the same position of that toxic feedback loop. Drama on the internet can be a rush, it can be fun, it can be exciting. Even if you start with good intentions and consider yourself to just be speaking the "truth", it's easy to fall into a narrative that is much more toxic than you realize. That's something I had to recognize in myself, take a step back, and think about the fact that it isn't about the truth, it's about word choice and choosing your battles. Every little issue and every little thing you dislike about someone else doesn't need to be spoken aloud, doesn't need their own post. But that's what I was doing, to the detriment of myself and those around me. That, yes, was very "unfriendly" and abrasive.

Though I also think that people here don't quite understand the... social pressure that gets put on people that speak out or share their opinions here. I started out just wanting to talk about one issue- paywalls, largely- but once I started, I quickly started to get requests for my opinions on other topics. (A lot like I still do now, but I delete or ignore 90% of them) And since I was very blunt/free with my opinions, people started to seek me out more and more. I got a lot of attention very quickly from people that had much larger followings, and much more of both fans and haters, than I did. They started vague posting me or mentioning me outright, which sent waves of asks my way, and much more attention very fast. From the very jump, I was getting ostracized/demonized by one group of people while getting low-key idolized for being honest by another. I'll admit, it was nice in some ways, but very stressful in others. Suddenly, instead of just sharing my opinion online to a void, it became that people started treating me as some voice of reason, or that I had an obligation to speak for them. I got more and more asks about various topics, from paywalls to bigotry to minor "injustices" from simblr #4632. I started wanting to back off as it got bigger, but there was always something happening, always something someone wanted me to talk about or "bring awareness" to, always someone poking & prodding me whether it was with good intentions or bad ones. It was overwhelming. I felt like I couldn't focus on, well, the sims, because how jarring was it to be in a serious conversation about racism and then posting random gameplay? And the lines between what was an important issue and what was just petty drama started to blur more and more. What was necessary for me to say, and what was just plain mean? It became more and more difficult for me to distinguish in this public persona I had created.

I started spending more time on discord in hopes of backing off some, but that only made it worse- I was inexperienced with having my own server, incompetent really, and the same problems I had here were magnified ten times there. Anything I said or did was under a lense by both the people that agreed with me and those that didn't, the negative and "truthful" environment I advertised only invited more toxic and drama-seeking people to me, and while I did my best to hide behind my blunt/straightforward exterior, it got scary very fast. There was a lot of pressure to do everything "right" at all times, to always be there as a mouthpiece for others and for the "truth", but no one can be correct all the time. And the pressure, along with the weight of what was happening to me offline, was suffocating. It was as if people were always watching me, waiting for me to slip up or be vulnerable so they could get to me, and I couldn't keep that from happening forever. Because quite a few people didn't like me for being annoying or negative or speaking my mind, when I started getting targeted by bigots more extremely, it was celebrated by quite a few big people here, even those that claim to be advocates and allies. They reveled in the chance to get at me in some way, even if they had to rub shoulders with blatant racists and transphobes to do so, and if there was anything that woke me up to the true nature of drama and "activism" here, it was that. The truth was, drama wasn't an unfortunate consequence of speaking your mind about important issues- it was the goal. Everything I had ever done or said was just a spectacle, entertainment. I had deluded myself into thinking I was doing something important, when I was actually just being laughed at and used. There's nothing being done here that's truly important. It's fuel for egos, and something to engage in when you're bored. That's it. But I was the dumbass sitting there at the center of it all, the face that could take it all while everyone else disappeared once they were bored.

But by the time I realized this, well. I was already in quite deep, wasn't I? I guess the question is, how do you extract yourself from a bad situation, and a bad reputation for that matter, when your personality and intentions have already been decided and declared by others? It's been several years now, quite a while since I recognized where I was going wrong and set on the journey to cut that shit out of my life, but it still persists and I don't expect it to go away anytime soon. Truth is, there's quite a few people that really, really dislike me, even people I've never interacted with, and there's absolutely nothing I can do to change their minds. There's people that I haven't mentioned or thought about in years that still mention me regularly, publicly and privately. I've apologized many times, decided to move on and never mention them again, and stuck with that- despite never receiving apologies or the same grace myself. And at the end of the day, that's all I can really do. Change my behavior and try to ignore the people that can't do the same for themselves.

I do find it funny you say that the post is about me trying to create drama for clout, though- because let's be honest, that ship has sailed lol. I've gotten more "clout" for drama than anyone else on simblr ever has, I definitely don't need to say anything to get more. I've been blocked and/or mentioned by almost every simblr, especially paywallers and every "popular" blog that's been forming parasocial relationships here since they were 12, on every platform, from tumblr to twt to discord to anon sites. I can't keep my name out of people's mouths even when I do my best to mind my damn business. When you're that infamous, you really don't have to try, do you? 😂 and since I've never heard of these OPs, I can only assume they're hoping to get a little advertisement from me, which I'm not about to give them lol. at this point, I'm trying to do a reverse on the clout. Let's bring it down a little, how about that 😭

[husbandhoshi]

I don't think it's a coincidence that you and Hyunjin have such close birthdays. It's a sign. It was written in the stars for us to become mutuals, I fear.

My clownery aside, Happy birthday Lily 🥳🥳🥳 I already spewed some of my affection for you when I reblogged that one post a bit ago lmao but, you really don't know how happy it makes me to see you on my dash or when you're in my notifications. I kid you not, I nearly dropped my phone in excitement when you started posting again after being away for a few months (yes, I do still plan on reading your longer Cheol fic. My brain just sucks right now lol.) You are thee Tumblr funnyman to me.

I don't know if I give you your flowers as a writer enough (I was going to send in an ask about what your trademark is but, once again, my brain). Outside of being one of the funniest people I follow, you have such a soft and warm touch to your writing. I may have said this before but, your writing genuinely feels like waking up surrounded by messy blankets on a Sunday morning. It feels like my favourite cup of coffee being enjoyed while it's raining outside. I just know every time I read your writing, regardless of subject matter, I'm going to come out feeling fuzzy, vulnerable and a little raw in the best way.

Anyways, I think I've rambled on long enough. I love you. I hope you have a fucking great day and, I am sending all of the Joshua hugs and kisses and dick your way. Mwah.

rj the way this LITERALLY made me tear up……………

NO bc the way i feel the same abt u?!? like i genuinely see all you put out into making ur mutuals feel loved and seen and i TRULY appreciate you so much for that. u have a heart of gold!! AND ///YOU/// are the tumblr funnyman and i seriously love seeing you and hearing your thoughts!!!! like ur tags always make me crack up and that is a RARITY for me …

also please don’t worry ab the cheol fic ✋ you being my friend is more than enough! but i will say that seeing ur feedback always makes my day bc you put so much love into it. 🫂

love you bunches girlie i am so lucky 2 be ur mutual! ty for all the kind words i am holding them so close to my heart rn !!!!!

[menalez]

My point is that if thea-nymo was this big bad meanie y'all are trying to say she is then why is she still posting? If she had done wrong and her blog had been found out, why is she still posting on it? That's proof she didn't do anything wrong or she would have switched blogs, right? Her blog is still up, not termed at all. If you search for her username or satoryuga's username literally the only people talking about either of them in this context are TERF blogs, which is pretty damning and makes it look like y'all picked a random woman in the fandom to choose as your scapegoat for your own actions. You say others were harassed, can you prove trans people were involved in that either or is it just wishful thinking on your part? Satoryuga in their own post does not mention trans people even once. And yes I highly doubt MRA groups in Korea exist and if they do, they exist the same way they do in the rest of the world which is a bunch of fringe men on the internet who aren't actually taking action in real life or have the power to attack some random person. Love bombing is exactly what it is because y'all are doing it to absolve yourselves of guilt when you probably were involved in some way and then blame it on trans people which is exactly what y'all are known for doing so congrats on getting a random Korean person doxxed and assaulted I guess? Big win for "feminism"!

Also I found this post from someone in that fandom that literally SAYS y'all did! https://www.tumblr.com/tsunflowers/702085867986157568 "I’ve heard from another person that when someone who received similar harassment said they would abandon their blog they were suddenly swarmed by terfs trying to comfort them and saying look at what those awful trans women did to this innocent cis woman. obviously my suspicion is that those terfs are the same people making the accounts to spew hate speech and they just switched to a different set of accounts once the violence had its intended effect"

wow lots of bullshit here and you obviously are trying to ensure your side is justified no matter what despite several openly anti-terf pro-trans individuals speaking openly in support of the doxxing and harassment.

1. why would this person stop posting? idiots like you all justified it and turned a blind eye, some even praising it, this person even being called out was reduced to some terf thing and was dismissed by other TRAs. same way outed rapists and pedos on here managed to get away with it by saying it’s all terf lies and are still posting on tumblr to this day.

2. “that’s proof she didn’t do anything wrong” no it isn’t, it is proof of how devoid of morals all of you are because none of you cared enough to hold the person behind it accountable, instead you justified this person and allowed them to get away with vile racist & misogynistic harassment. not shocking because you lot have allowed all sorts of racists and predators and misogynists to get away with the same as long as they were on your side.

3. “only person talking about it are TERF blogs” almost like only people who actually cared and took issue with what happened were terf blogs while you lot turned a blind eye and even praised the doxxing and harassment bc satoryuga deserved it for merely being labelled a terf.

4. “i highly doubt korean MRAs exist” so now you’re also accusing the victim herself of lying and inventing something. one second of googling showed me you’re wrong

5. claiming “terfs” are behind it baselessly. very typical tactic of yours. anything we do thats bad is actually terfs’ fault!!! oh proof?? uhmmmm well they were supporting the woman getting harassed which actually is a manipulation tactic :// oh the person who took responsibility for it is a trans women? oh well a terf must’ve made that up. oh you found a blog of a trans woman who coincidentally used the exact same wording in regards to satoryuga, supported the doxxing and harassment, and even liked posts that praised the person that doxxed her and spearheaded her harassment? well uhhh that doesn’t count bc if it were this person they’d totally not be on tumblr anymore!!

you’re stupid and an apologist. don’t msg me again.

[dojunie]

omg congratulations for completing 16k !!! Can we get a spoiler plss i am really excited for it!!

yes u may have a spoiler :3 read more under the cut my friend thank you for your interesttttt hopefully this writers stump will stop kicking my ass soon LOL

You suppose it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t mention that around the four hour mark, as you were taking a breather under one of the umbrellas after getting absolutely beaned in the eyebrow with a wet hacky-sack, Jeno came over spewing apologies with a two first-aid kits and an array of fruit popsicles piled up in his arms. He’d sat you down and let you pick which flavor you wanted— lime, obviously— before he set upon disinfecting the tiny cut the toy had left behind. 

He held your head in place with one hand, pale fingers taut around your chin as he leaned in to get a better look, scowling at the injury like it had personally done something to him.

“We should be paying you, I swear,” he’d muttered, “I really had no idea the kids would be latching onto you like this. You probably thought it’d be a little more chill, right? I’m sorry.”

You wanted to shrug, but he was holding a pad of hydrogen peroxide very close to your eyeball and you didn’t want to risk being blinded. “I don’t mind it. They’re pretty fun, you know, when they’re not trying to climb up my back.”

He smiled, but it was still a little tense. You could tell he actually felt bad about it, and you could see where he was coming from— he’d asked you to come today when you technically didn’t need to, because you were both playing this little cat and mouse game with Sooyoung's words. But you promised, didn’t you?

“I’ll make it up to you,” Jeno said finally. “Later, when it’s a little less busy.”

He pulled out a bandaid from the box (baby blue, with a bunch of little ducks on it) and leaned even further towards you to get it properly on your skin. He didn’t seem to realize just how close he’d come, eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused completely on the cut, breath fanning lethally across the cool drops of water on your skin… until you looked up through your lashes in an attempt to not to move your head from where he’d set it, and caught his gaze.

“You will?” you whispered, curious.

His hands stilled as he fully caught the sight of you like this, this close, eyes round and fixed on him alone, lime popsicle gliding across your bottom lip as you pondered what he’d do. You smiled, not paying any attention to his sudden stare. “I'm going to hold you to that. What are you going to do?”

Jeno swallowed. Blinked. “Uh… I, I don’t—” And as if forgetting what he was in the middle of doing he pressed a little too firmly on the bandaid, and you yelped. “Ah, shit, sorry! I—”

“Language!”  “Sorry! Sorry!” His face immediately melted into that of a kicked puppy, frowning as he rubbed where you’d instinctually smacked his knee when he swore. Luckily, there were no kids around to catch his slip, but still! You could’ve imagined the field day they’d have if they’d heard him.

and theres your spolier!!!! thank you for sending me a message :,-D

[unmeisenshi]

Aurelio would be walking through Alstroemeria, a few weeks having passed from when Aster Drought had fallen. There were mumblings of a group who were preaching, and gaining followers. The Zoroark had found the preacher just outside of town, talking to an ever growing congregation during the early evening. Aurelio hid behind a large tree, his back facing the trunk, and listened in. He peaked around the tree, and who he saw made his fur stand on end.

"Brothers and Sisters!" Jethro's voice echoed and bellowed to the followers. The Hisuian Zoroark took a glance out to his followers, and saw Aurelio poking his head out from the tree. He smiled, and continued. "You all have done well, bringing new believers to us. For our new followers, know that the word of Arceus, our so-called God, is false! I am the vessel of our true God, Necrozma! Our God died for us so we could live!" Jethro pointed to the silver nebula that painted the sky. "And who killed Necrozma? Arceus! The False God sent Necrozma to their death!"

The congregation began to rile up, with shouts and profanities spewing from the crowd. Aurelio listened intently, grimacing when Jethro pointed to the nebula that was formed from Zane's death. After a moment, Jethro continued. "And so, I implore you all... Go out! Seek other Brothers and Sisters to join our cause! Make the non-believers believe... By any means necessary!"

The group of followers cheered, and dispersed slowly back to their homes in Alstroemeria and beyond. Aurelio's breathing was heavy, after hearing what he just heard. But as he turned to face forward, he saw the Hisuian Zoroark standing in front of him.

"Aurelio... Brother... How I've missed you so..." Jethro's voice was low, and he played with the curls on his mane with one claw. "It's funny I should find you here... I was going to find you myself..."

"Jethro... You were supposed to stay locked up... After what you did to Mom and Dad..." Aurelio's claws bunched into fists. "You think I don't remember what you did to them?"

"Oh, I know you remember, little brother. But don't you think it was for the better? Mom and Dad did abuse us."

Aurelio looked down. "You're not wrong... But we were family. Even if they were harsh on us... You broke the family apart."

Jethro chuckled. "Seems all these years of being with that rescue team has made you soft. Where is the scrappy little brother I remember?"

Aurelio would swipe his claws, purple energy trailing from their tips. The swipe did miss, though the Zoroark wasn't intending to hurt Jethro. "He's still here... I'm just more cooled off than you are."

Jethro chuckled. "Then let me give my cool headed brother an offer. Join me, and the other followers. Come, and I will guarantee your place in our new world once we achieve it." Jethro held his claw out for Aurelio to grab, but the latter simply knocked it away.

"Tch. Like I'd ever join anything to do with you. Besides... I heard what you were 'preaching,' and I don't want any part of it. That nebula up there is all that's left of my friend Zane... And I don't quite like that you're using that to get your followers all riled up."

Jethro scoffed and began walking away. "Fine. But do know that when Judgment Day comes... You and your friends will be the first to go. And I'll make sure to send you all to Hell."

Aurelio gave a gesture to Jethro, placing one hand into the fold of his arm and raising his fist up; what we would call the "up yours" gesture. "Fine. Once we send you there, tell your supposed God Necrozma I said hello."

Jethro turned to give an evil look to Aurelio as he walked away, staring at him menacingly for a few moments before being brought back to reality by some of his Zoroark buddies. "Father Jethro? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm quite fine." The Zoroark gave a reassuring smile. "Tell the followers to work double time. I want to catch Aurelio and his stupid friends off guard."

"Yes Father. We'll get to work on that." The Zoroark group dispersed, and Jethro soon disappeared as well, turning to a white mist and disappearing into the surrounding mountains.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 1 - Part 1

BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Samuel Moretti

"Yes Mom, I have everything," I spoke dramatically but with a grin and a playful roll of my eyes.

"Hey, you're lucky it's me dropping you off and not your mom," my boyfriend pointed out also with a smile.

Benjamin Hernandez.

I met him my Junior year of high school and last April, just before graduation, he had asked me to be his boyfriend.

It was August, the Saturday before my first class in college on Monday and Benjamin had driven an hour from Chicago to pick me up and drove an hour back into the city to drop me off at UIC.

He refused to let me pitch in for petrol.

Being with Benjamin was far different from any relationship I've been in.

Especially my previous relationship.

Where my ex was loud and confrontational, Benjamin was soft with his tone and reserved.

My ex was stubborn and argumentative while Benjamin sided with me on most topics.

My ex was irrational while my boyfriend thought out every next move.

Though, if I let myself really think about it, all those negative attributes I labeled my ex could be reduced to one single word... passionate.

All those words that described Ben all come down to... simple.

Noah Wright was passionate and Ben Hernandez was simple.

With Benjamin, I could finally take a breath of fresh air.

With Noah, it was like I was on the edge of a cliff and the only thing keeping me from falling was his hand and I never knew how strong his hold was.

But one thing I knew, being on that edge was the most thrilling and terrifying moments of my life.

But, simple was better for me.

'Safer. Easy. Breathable. And that's what I needed.'

Ben's hands were on my waist when he spoke.

"Otherwise you'd have to deal with more crying."

I was used to looking up to speak to my significant other but Benjamin was the same height as me 'he claimed he was taller but he wasn't' so I was eye level with his light brown eyes.

Contrast to the deep brown eyes I used to sink into.

"That's true," I chuckled in regards to the emotional state of my mother.

She had spent all morning tearing up and sobbing about how 'all of my babies are all grown up' and other clichés that mothers spew when their children go off to college.

I, on the other hand, was excited to be away from them, the past few months it seemed like everything they'd say to me got on my nerves.

"I'm gonna' miss you," Benjamin told me and I snorted.

"Your school is literally thirteen minutes away."

"Yeah but I'm gonna miss having your cute ass in bed with me. Ya' know, it's not too late to get an apartment with me," he spoke with hopeful, big eyes.

'Ahhhhh.'

My heart start hammering in my chest and a twisty, anxiety induced feeling erupted in my gut.

"Bennn," I dragged out his name.

"I know, I know. 'Moving too fast'. Maybe next semester?" he offered just as buoyant as before.

I didn't see that happening, Benjamin was moving ten times faster in our relationship than I was.

I liked Benjamin a lot but my pace was a little slower than his and I didn't see an issue with that.

I was thankful he hadn't dropped the 'L' word yet, I don't know what I would've done.

But I also hated when Benjamin looked sad, so I said...

"Maybe next semester," and I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his before he could talk more on the frightening matter.

We pulled back.

"Drive safe."

"Call me tonight?" he asked as I followed him around his white, Toyota Prius to the driver side.

"Of course," I said as I stepped back so Benjamin could settle into his driver's seat.

With the window rolled down, I kissed him one last time before I had to watch my boyfriend drive away.

I took a deep breath and headed towards the dormitory building with the rest of my things.

Last week, I was able to go to my dorm and unload a bunch of my things such as decorations for my room, bedding, etc.

Now I only had a few bags of clothes and shoes to bring in, of course I was bringing all of my Vans to college.

My dorm was on the tenth floor of the building.

Door 1013.

As soon as I entered the dorm room, I heard the click of a camera and froze on spot.

I looked up and spotted my presumably new roommate.

He was about my height being 5'9", maybe shorter.

He was, for lack of better adjectives, lanky and had silky black hair tousled but stylish and his painted black nails were holding a very expensive looking camera.

"Hey, sorry, had to get the first shot of my roommate. Hope you don't mind."

"Do I have a choice?" I questioned with a light tone.

He chuckled.

"No," then taking a step towards me, he reached out his hand,

"Hi, I'm Kai Baxter."

I shook his hand.

"Samuel Moretti, just call me Sam," I said.