#literally had to cut the sleeves off this poor shirt cause they were squeezing my arms too tight 😭

[aching-tummies]

I come home from working the night shift to see you lying in bed while rubbing your stomach. "Is your stomach upset?" I ask trying to look sympathetic. I feel bad that you're stomach is upset but I love seeing you like this, your shirt ridding up your taut belly while you moan in discomfort. I rub your belly gently and soothingly at first, but gradually start applying more pressure. Your stomach gurgles loudly as my hands continue prodding it.

Thank you for waiting! I'm sorry it took so long. I haven't had time to sit down and write a proper response to this lovely, RP-Scenario/Ask. I hope my response did it justice!

Glup…rrr…ble…

There's barely enough light from the window to illuminate the room. I blink the sleep from my eyes, looking toward the bedside clock even as I feel the material of your sleeve lightly graze my navel as your hand runs a barely-there circle over my belly.

7:12AM. I lie back with a groan, a gurgle from my stomach resonating with my noise of complaint. A small belch cuts off the sound of my annoyance. I've been 'asleep' for less than 40 minutes. The last timestamp I remember seeing was 6:37AM. I remember it because it was right before I rolled over to be slightly on my left side and my stomach had reacted to the shift so painfully that I honestly thought it had ruptured within me.

I'd gotten home late last night. You were already gone, off to meet a friend for dinner or coffee before heading to work. Usually, you wouldn't have left quite so early…but you had left me a note. Apparently, you'd made a lasagna for dinner. Unfortunately, we're planning to have guests over in the next couple of days, so our fridge has no more room for leftovers. I'd lifted the foil off of the pan to find that you had packed away the smaller half of a 9x13 pan. That left half a lasagna for me to "take care of". I'd gotten home around 9PM. It was late and I usually wouldn't eat so late at night…but I love your cooking and lasagna is a rare treat. I thought I'd be able to power through most of it to avoid food-waste if I paced myself…though I wasn't exactly hungry so late at night.

The lasagna was delicious. You aren't shy with the cheese and you make it with lots of veggies (spinach, carrots, tomato, and every so often some mushroom and/or zucchini or eggplant if we have them). I paced myself, wanting to enjoy the food…but also knowing that I wanted to eat as much of it as possible to avoid wasting anything. Honestly, I tried putting some of it away, but our fridge literally has no room for anything more thanks to the various 2L drinks we're cooling and the prep for the dishes we'll be making when we have guests. Even trying to ball up the last slice in the foil and finding room for it just wasn't going to happen.

Luckily, I have the day off today so I decided I could use today to sleep off the food coma. If I'd been less exhausted from work, I would have realized that this was your plan all along.

"Aww…is your poor belly upset?" You coo at me, increasing the pressure of your palm as though testing the sheer tautness of my belly. A couple of strong pats causes the contents to shift uncomfortably. An aborted belch crawls up my throat and I bite back a groan as my insides squeeze against the glut of food still within. The impact of your pats jostles stuff, upsetting the delicate calm I'd finally coaxed my guts into. Some point before I fully awoke, you'd bunched my shirt up and the covers are now down to my hips, exposing my noisy belly and the fact that there isn't any give beneath the skin.

GrrrrRRRk…rrrgl……rrrrrRRRrrr… My stomach makes a distressed sound. If stomachs could wail, that's what it just did. I whimper as it continues to gripe inside of me, discomfort amping up as my guts are reawakened by your actions.

"Poor, poor tummy." You punctuate each of your words with another sharp pat to various parts of my exposed stomach, upsetting the mess further.

A deep grumble causes me to wince and it doesn't escape your notice as my hands fly to cradle my ball of a stomach. You watch as I gingerly rub at it as though even the most gentle of touches aches something fierce.

"Aww…does someone have a tummy ache?" You coo at me. I send a glare at you, though I don't think it's effective given our positions.

"Urp." I answer you with a belch, brow furrowing as I swallow back the stubborn mess that tried to rise with the expelled air.

*GrrRRrrrrrr….glk…rrrrrrrrrlllllblblb…." My stomach vibrates with an angry snarl, tapering down beneath your palm. I feel like I swallowed something set to 'vibrate'…I only hope you can feel it 'cuz I now realize that all of this was planned. You knew I had the day off. You knew you'd be back from the night shift in time to enjoy this. You knew we'd have no space for leftovers in the fridge. The only unknown was going to be the state of indigestion in my tummy--and considering your striking range…that wasn't much of a variable at all.

"Poor tummy. Was it the cheese? Is all that cheese hurting you so? Or was it the spinach? I know that frozen stuff gets you sooooo upset." There's a clear distinction between your teasing tone with me and the loving coo you use to address my stomach. I know these questions aren't directed at me, but at the grumbly mess beneath both of our hands.

You continue rubbing at my stomach, pushing my hands away. I allow the action, but only because I feel so terrible and because you seem to have intentions of being gentle.

I notice, too late, that your rubs are stirring up something in my guts. They are far more vocal than they have been in the last few hours. I only managed to get a couple of pitiful rumbles and squelches to happen with my own rubs. My guts were too packed to make much noise. There simply wasn't enough room for gas pockets amidst the cheese and pasta and veggie/beef mix. There's not much room for it now either, but the fact that some of the mass of food has entered my intestines means that whatever air and empty space in my digestive tract had to be displaced.

Without warning, you push your palm down on my left, right over my jam-packed stomach organ.

"Ugh….UrrrrllpP!" A splash of stomach acid assaults my esophagus as that sizable belch is forced out of me. "Ouch!" I hiss and grab your wrist, moving your entire arm so that your palm is no longer jutting into such a sensitive part of my gut. "Ungh…aaahhh…" My pitiful moans are continuously interrupted by equally pitiful belches. There just isn't enough room in my guts anywhere to have a sizeable pocket of air. Trying to force one is painful and also extremely difficult with the dense mass inside my guts.

"Ugh…quit it." There's no bite to my words. I'm groggy from whatever sleep I managed to fall into, and the weight in my guts has made me very, very lethargic.

You're unbothered. You retract your hand a bit…opting to poke with a finger instead of with your palm. I don't know if that's much better. You swirl a finger around my navel, more exposed thanks to the internal pressure on the other side of flesh. I'm suspicious of you, but in my sluggish state I fail to grab at your wrist again before you poke sharply into the sensitive core of my navel.

I see white as the ache in my gut explodes. My guts were not happy with that poke at all.

As I regain my senses, I realize that your palm is in place…but I feel like I'm moving? You've taken to sloshing at my guts, pushing it in all directions as though you're trying to shake up the contents of my belly. Good luck with that--there's zero give or room in there for things to move. The turbulence doesn't do much about the dense mass of food, but the air pockets begin to move--ramming through the mess. For a moment, I can't get a word out edgewise because of the sheer number of burps forcing their way up and out. Nausea builds but I don't have an opportunity to tell you as you shove harshly into my stuffed guts. 'Agony' is an understatement. My poor organs are beyond distressed and upset at your idea of 'fun'.

Hopefully, with all this movement the glut will be out of my system by tomorrow. I've got to work and then we're entertaining some friends for game-night and I really, really, really am not looking forward to tackling that day with an achy, upset tummy. I really hope this is a one-off session and you don't have more planned for me. My stomach can't take any more.

[tanniefm]

boyfriend | jjk (m)

summary - jungkook knows what you need and definitely knows your husband can’t give it to you like he can.

pairing - jungkook x (f) reader

genre - cheating au, fwb, porn with very little plot

word count - 1.7k

song inspo - boyfriend by ray j (i literally couldn’t stop thinking of this man while listening to this song it was becoming an issue)

warnings - infidelity, explicit language, soft dom jk, sub reader, daddy kink, praise kink, it’s kinda angsty at the end oops.., pet names, kook’s very sweet but :(, subspace, hints of dumbification, jealous kook cause he loves you, unprotected sex (please don’t be stewpid like these two), jungkook in sweatpants and a ponytail (the ultimate combo)

a/n - AHHHH hi this is my first fic (more like a drabble but you get the point) like ever and i did nawt feel like editing anymore than needed cause i was afraid i’d end up deleting everything...with that said!! i really hope you enjoy and sorry if it’s cringy or wtv umbdhb yeah enjoy! oh also merry christmas if you celebrate 🥺🥺

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

You knock on his door hastily. You texted him a few minutes earlier because you just couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to be a good wife. A good, loving, perfect wife for Jacob. But he’s driving you fucking crazy. He won’t listen to you, won’t thank you when you do things for him, and he damn sure can’t fuck you like he can. You and Jungkook have been friends for the longest. He knows everything about you and that’s probably why he can make you cum as hard as he does. You hate that it got to this point. One heated argument with Jacob a few months back is all it took for you to come to your best friend's apartment to vent and next thing you knew you were having the best sex you’ve ever had. Now you crave him constantly and you’re not even sure if you feel bad about it.

You instantly clear your thoughts when Jungkook opens the door with a smug look on his face. Fuck, he looks good. Hair in a ponytail, his black long sleeves rolled up, putting his various tattoos on display. And to your delight, gray sweatpants tight enough where you can clearly see him hard as hell. You automatically launch into his embrace and kiss him needily. He knows you, he knows why you’re here. And he’s happy to give it to you. He smiles and chuckles into the kiss and closes the door behind him. He backs you up against the door and pulls away, much to your dismay. He giggles as you whine from the loss of his lips on yours. 

“What’d he do this time, pretty girl?” he says softly as he cups your face. His hands are so pretty, you think. They're so big and make you feel so good. He’s so big. He loves making you feel cute and small, like he’s the only one that can take care of you. You think he might be right.

“Couldn’t cum…” you whine. There’s a tiny pout on your face and Jungkook thinks you’re adorable. He’ll never say it out loud, but sometimes he wishes you’d just leave him to be his. You and him both know that won’t happen though, you’re very adamant that you love Jacob. Whatever, Jungkook will take what he gets. As long as he has you.

He smiles and mockingly pouts back. “I know baby, you need me to take care of you, hm? My baby needs me to make her feel good?” He pecks your forehead softly as you whine some more. You’re so needy, he has no idea why that dude refuses to listen to you when you ask to try different things in bed. Vanilla is cute every now and then but Jungkook knows you want more. You like to be thrown around and choked but you also love when you’re praised. You like being a good girl but you’re also a fucking brat. You like to be kissed, and cuddled, and babied after you have consecutive orgasms. Jungkook knows you, so why doesn’t he?

You nod and fist your hands into his shirt. You need him, badly. He’s all you could think about while you and Jacob were having sex. All you asked was if he could pull your hair a bit and he looked at you like you were crazy and told you no. It’s one thing to not be comfortable with doing certain things, but to look at you like that and not even hear you out? It stung, and all you wanted was for Kook to take care of you like you knew he would.

“I asked for him to pull my hair and he looked at me like I was stupid. I-I just wanted to try something different for once and he refuses to do anything I want to do. I need you Kookie please I’m so wet I can’t-“ 

“Shh sweetheart, it’s ok. Come on, I’ll take care of it.” he cuts you off gently and taps on the back of your thighs to signal you to jump. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck and suck bruises into his smooth skin while he carries you to his room. He lays you on his bed and kisses you deeply. His hands slowly move your shirt up and out of the way as he makes his way down your neck. You quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side. You can tell he wants to eat you out but you’re very impatient. As much as you love his mouth on you, you desperately need his cock filling you up right now. He softly kisses your nipple and looks up. You’re pouting again. You’re even needier than he thought. He pulls your leggings down and zeros in on your panties. There’s a huge wet spot in the middle and he can feel his cock twitch. The string of arousal that attaches itself to your underwear while he pulls them down is driving him insane.

“My poor baby, you weren’t kidding when you said how wet you were, huh? Who made you this wet?” he says while he strips his shirt off, showing more of his copious tattoos. He loved when you traced them while he held you and hummed softly after you were sent deep into subspace. Maybe he can experience that again tonight.

“You did daddy,” Bingo. You weren’t even thinking when you said it, all you could think about was him him him. He froze before swiftly pulling down his sweatpants and you watched in awe as his dick spring up to his stomach. He’s so big, you need him so bad. He climbs back on top of you and kisses you roughly while teasing your entrance. He keeps running his tip up and down to spread around your arousal.

“Daddy, please I need you inside. Please don’t tease.” you whine. You’re squirming around and your eyes are starting to well up. Why isn’t he fucking you? Should you have come at all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? Your mind is so fuzzy and negative thoughts are starting to swirl and pull you deeper and deeper-

“Hey hey, look at me. No more thinking baby, just focus on me. There you go, that’s my good girl.” he squeezes your hips as he pushes in. He can tell when you start overthinking, it’s one of the perks of being friends with you for so long. You moan loudly as he pushes deep inside of you. He quickly sets a rough pace once he feels you adjust and sees your eyes roll back in euphoria. You’re so beautiful. He loves that he can make you feel like this. You’re squeezing so tightly around him and everything feels so fucking good. He pushes your legs to your chest and you gasp loudly.

“Daddy it-it’s too deep! Oh my fucking God I- fuck!” you whimper as he goes faster.

“You can take it precious, I know you can. You’re doing so well. Taking me so well. Fuck- you’re always so good for me. My pretty little girl. Love this fucking pussy, shit!” he rambles. He can’t help it, just as much as he fucks you stupid he also gets into a headspace where he can’t think of anything but you. The pretty sounds you make, your tight ass pussy, your soft thighs he’s holding. And that stupid fucking man you’re married to. The thought of him makes him pound into you harder. He hates him, he really does. He hates him because he wants to be him. Jungkook would treat you like a princess if you were his. But you chose that lame ass dude.

“Does he fuck you like this? Hm? Does he know how much of a little slut you are for me? Does he know how much you need this dick to make you cum?” he growls. You shake your head and dig your nails into his biceps.

“No daddy it’s you, only you. No one else but you” you mumble. You’re so fucked out and so so close. Just a little more, a little longer.

“Fuck you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna cum princess? My little slut gonna cum all over me? I know you want to baby, go ahead and let go for me” he switches angles and makes sure your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while he continually hits your g-spot. You nod quickly while he encourages you more and more. With a cry of his name, you finally let go. It only takes Jungkook a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you with a whiny moan. He drops down and faceplants into your neck as you both pant heavily. You feel him peck your neck and face softly as he mumbles how good you were for him.

“My good,” forehead kiss, “precious,” cheek kiss, “baby,” nose kiss, “girl,” he finally reaches your lips. You smile and giggle at his cute antics. He always gets so soft after sex, you love it though. He gently pulls out and lays down beside you to tuck you in his arms. 

“You were so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” he says as he plants several kisses on the top of your head. You snuggle deeper into his chest and look up at him with starry eyes. Your head’s still fuzzy, but you feel safe with him. Jungkook is safe.

“I’m good?” you ask quietly. You were fuzzy, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what you two were doing is wrong. You knew you should break it off or at the very least leave Jacob. But you can’t, you still love him. You want to grow old with him. He just...can’t give you what you need sometimes.

Jungkook pauses. He wants to tell you to leave him. He could give you everything and more if you just leave him. But that always ends in an argument, and he hates arguing with you.

“Yes sweetheart, you’re perfect.” It’s ok. Jungkook can wait.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: Hope you enjoy the chapter; please leave a comment and let me know what you think <3 

Chapter Eight

It all started with a note. 

The next they were hightailing across the damn state, all the way back to where their deep dark mess of secrets and lies had started. There was no time to stop and question why Ellie had gone back; there was no need. They already knew. The poor girl was simply looking for answers that everyone else had refused to give her. 

The closer they got; the worse their fear became. The dread pulling tighter up the throat like a noose around the neck. It was like riding towards their own execution for the terrible crime they’d committed, of robbing the whole world of something they didn’t believe they even deserved. Because they didn’t. Not at the expense of Ellie’s life. 

Even now after everything; Joel and Adaline would always agree on that. 

When they finally made it to the outskirts of the hospital; Ellie was sitting alone. The pair barely bother to halt their horses before dismounting and rushing to their daughter’s side. Joel quickly pulling her into a hug. 

“The hell were you thinkin’? Joel uttered. Taking the words right out of Ada’s mouth as she moved to join the two. “Running off in the middle of the night like that…you talk to us.” He continued. “You don’t just leave a goddamn note-“ He didn’t get to finish as Ellie pushed him away.

And Ada knew this was it. Their time had run out and now there was no going back. 

The teenager paced on unsteady feet; her hands fidgeting with her jacket sleeves before finally getting too frustrated and just pushing them back up passed her elbows. It was a common habit Ellie had picked up as she’d gotten older; they’d both noticed. Whenever Ellie was stressed, uncomfortable, nervous or upset; she would fidget with her hands. Whether it was pulling on jacket sleeves, picking at her nails or just absentmindedly running her fingertips across the now hidden bite mark on her arm. Just as Joel did with his watch. It was always fascinating to Ada how much Ellie could be like Joel without even realising it. 

Over the years; the girl had picked up a lot of the man’s mannerisms. Like father, like daughter she supposed. Unfortunately that also meant she had Joel’s temper. And it was certainly a force to be reckoned with. 

The girl continued pacing, almost not daring to look back at her parents. Her mind racing a mile a minute as she contemplated what to say. How to string her words together. The endless list of questions that plagued her for years. 

‘What happened to the Fireflies?’

‘Why had Ada and Joel lied about it for so long?’

‘Was Marlene dead?’ Ellie had a bad feeling she already knew the answer to that one; it had always been an assumption she sort of accepted, considering how loyal the leader had been to her cause. If she had threatened the young girl in any way in order to get her cure; Ellie knew for a fact her mom wouldn’t hesitate to cut her down. Or maybe Joel had killed her; it didn’t really matter now. The Fireflies were gone and so was their precious cure. 

She just needed to know why. Looking back at the rotting ruins of the Hospital; Ellie finally settled on her words before turning to face her family. 

“Tell me...what happened here.” She started with a shaken breath. Resisting the urge to pull her sleeves again as hands began to tremble once more. “If you lie to me one more time, I’m gone. You will never see me again.” She took a breath and it caught in her throat. The air thick and tense, Joel and Ada staring blankly at her with sad eyes.

“But if you tell me the truth, I’ll go back to Jackson.” She promised. “No matter what it is.” It was at that point as her parents shared a look; that Ellie realised she had no idea just what she was promising. 

Her mother took a reluctant step towards her and Ellie had to stop herself from flinching.  

“I...uh…” Ada stuttered, clearing her throat several times before trying to speak again. 

“Mom...just say it.” 

The older woman glanced back at Joel as he nodded woefully. Ada turned back to her daughter; her brown eyes welling with tears. 

“Making a vaccine...would have killed you. So we stopped them.” She said, gesturing to herself and Joel. The older man dropping his eyes to the floor as the shame flooded his face. 

Ellie’s blood ran cold. She gasped out a strangled sob that burst from her throat as it burned. She felt sick. Her chest tight and heavy. The weight pushing down so deep she couldn’t breath. How dare they?

HOW FUCKING DARE THEY?! 

Taking such a choice away from her! Taking away the chance for her immunity to mean something. To make the losses mean something. Her pain mean something. But they had decided to take her away from all that and it wasn’t fair that she’d had no say in any of it. 

She collapsed letting herself sit atop an old box, old equipment the Fireflies had left behind maybe? She didn’t fucking care anymore. She pulled at the front of her shirt in a feeble attempt to give herself room to breathe. But her chest continued to tighten. Her airway closing around the lump forming in her now dry throat. Her eyes streamed with tears, blurring her vision.  

“Oh my god…” She choked. Her hand clutching her chest as her breath became quick and short. Her stomach churned; hands and feet turning cold and numb. 

“Ellie...sweetheart…” The voice was echoed and distant. But she flinched when her mom reached out to console her. Her whole body snapping to her feet as she pulled away. Her hand lashing out to shove her back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” She snapped. Ada's lower jaw quivered as she held back her own tears. The hurt was plain and raw in her eyes looking back to Ellie. “I’ll go back, but you and me...we’re done!” She screamed, her eyes narrowing at both Joel and Ada. Ada gasped a sob of her own as she took a cautious step towards her daughter but Ellie was already backing away. “Ellie...please.” She pleaded. “Just let us explain.” The teen scoffed bitterly; she wasn’t interested in anything they had to say. Her nostrils flared in anger, her lip snarled as she shook her head in defiance. 

“I don’t fucking care! I hate-” 

“Hey! Stop! That’s enough!” Ellie's eyes darted to Joel raising his voice as he moved to stand beside his wife, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. Pulling her close as she buried her face into his side. 

“Don’t do that. You wanna hate someone for this? You hate me, okay?” He clarified and somehow the audacity of Joel only made her angrier. “Don’t put this on your mother. It ain’t her fault.” 

Again Ellie scoffed bitterly. How dare he tell her how to feel. Who to blame. They were both at fault for this. She’d trusted them and this was what they’d done?! How could she ever see them in the same way again. “Are you fucking kidding me Joel?!” 

The man sighed heavily, Ada wiping away her stray tears as she looked back at her daughter with bloodshot eyes. Joel was quiet for a second, his eyes flitting back between Ada and Ellie before he finally spoke. “I pulled the trigger, not your mom. You wanna blame anyone then you blame me. Please don’t punish her.” He uttered pathetically. His whole body seemed to sag with sadness and Ellie felt sick the longer she looked at him, she didn’t even bother dignifying his plea with an answer as she shoved passed him and headed back towards Shimmer. Not even bothering to spare them a glance as she mounted and forcefully spurred the horse into a canter and rode away back towards Jackson without another word. 

Ada and Joel watched her go. Both feeling defeated and tired.

The Texan glanced back to his wife when she slid her hand into his and squeezed gently. “You didn’t have to do that.” She whispered. “I wished you hadn’t.” Joel felt his heart ache at the broken look on her face. Her nose and eyes rubbed red from her tears, Her face slightly puffed from the lack of sleep they’d lost from riding through the night to find Ellie. He softly kissed her forehead before dropping his gaze to meet hers. 

“If she has to lose one of us...I’d rather it was me.” He said. “She needs her mother if she’s gonna get through this.” Ada sighed, collapsing against his chest as her exhaustion caught up with her. “She needs you too.” She muffled into his jacket. “We both do.” 

He ran a hand through her hair as he hugged her close. In that moment it hit him just how grateful he was for this woman in his arms. He often thought about his life before Ellie and Adaline and he didn’t like it. There had been no way of knowing how things were going to play out the way they had when they’d met in Boston, but Joel knew without a doubt he wouldn’t have changed a thing. This was a life he’d happily choose over and over. At the beginning after losing Sarah, Joel had given up on the idea of family and love. After losing her, there was no getting it back. But then they’d come barrelling into his life...literally. Ada, eager to protect the young fourteen year old from the strange man forcing his way through the door, with Ellie in toe ready to strike with her pocket knife to protect her then mother figure from harm. If anyone had told him he would then go on to marry this woman, he’d have called them insane. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her. He didn’t think he could live without her. He didn’t want to. 

He squeezed her tight as her own arms found their way around his waist squeezing back in return. 

“Don't worry about me; I ain’t going anywhere darlin’.” He looked down kissing her then let his hands run the length of her arms, taking her hands in his, walking her towards the grazing horses. “Come on, let's head home.” 

Ada didn’t reply as she followed, the two quickly climbing back on and turning towards the same path Ellie had taken. Their horses breaking into a gentle trot. They rode in silence, both afraid of the fall out that awaited them when they returned to Jackson. Tommy and Maria would want to know what happened. If they hadn’t already noticed they were gone, Joel wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. He figured Tommy would understand but he was pretty certain, he hadn’t told Maria the whole story yet. He stole a glance back towards Ada as she rode beside him. But she just looked utterly broken. Her eyes set dead ahead of them, hands gripping her reins like a vice and legs rigid from the panic she’d woken up to in the night; when they'd found Ellie had disappeared. Joel looked back at the path before them. It would be a long ride back to Jackson. He just hoped and prayed that given some time and space...maybe...hopefully; Ellie would eventually understand why they’d done what they had done. And if he was lucky she might even forgive him for it. 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Piercings and Polaroids

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,984

Warnings: Piercings, blood, needles, swearing, sexuality (eluded to)

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @thechickvic @carolimedanvers @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

Starcourt got boring after awhile. Once the lustre of new stores and fast food restaurants died off, people stopped shopping and starting soaking up the A/C like snakes under heat lamps. You didn’t mind, it just meant that you could spend your afternoons flipping through magazines and listening to the ad-free mall radio.

“Hey bitch!” someone slapped the counter loudly and you looked up boredly from your copy of Cosmo. Heather was standing in front of you with a devilish grin, her hair damp from the pool and her signature red Ray-Bands jammed on the top of her thick brown curls, most of which were piled high on the top of her head in a messy attempt at a ponytail, half tied and falling apart.

“Hi Heather...” you signed, laying the magazine open on the counter. Heather was your best friend, although it had begun to feel more and more strained as you both got older. Heather and you were very different people. You were a band geek, a tutor, and a slave to the mall. Heather was a cheerleader, the head of the yearbook committee, and one of the infamous ‘lifeguard hotties’ of the Hawkins Community Pool. She was a popular princess; a daddy’s girl with his platinum card wrapped around her little finger. You were from a broken home with an exhausting home life, and someone who should’ve been an ignored loser. Without Heather defending you, you would be bullied to bits by girls like Carol and Tina. But with her, you felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling giddily “So, how’s your summer of piercing baby ears going?” she asked with a devious giggle, her sunglasses falling onto her nose and her mouth curling into a devilish grin.

You rolled your eyes “I’ve only seen one baby get pierced, I mostly pierce like middle schoolers. Today, I gave Mrs. Blythe her second hole. She bought three packs of neon studs and said they were for her daughter. Trying to look younger or some shit.” You replied, popping a strip of bright pink bubblegum into your sticky pink mouth, your cheap drugstore lipstick gunking in the corners of your lips. It was obvious that Heather had stopped listening after the first sentence, her mouth open in a yawn.

“Boring! You haven’t done anything cool all day? You know what me and Jeff did?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. She leaned over the counter, cupping a hand over her mouth as she leant in to your ear “We did it in the locker room showers. And Jessica Abrams totally walked in on us and freaked out! She totally got all red and teary it was totally embarrassing!” she whispered.

You pulled away, your face turned up in disgust. “That’s disgusting!” you gagged, squeezing your eyes shut as the image of Jeff’s douchey smirk came into view, turning into an ‘O’ face that made you want to hurl.

Heather cackled “He wasn’t even that good! I have no idea why Jessica’s been going on about it!” she cried, slapping the counter with her bare hand.

“Maybe because they were like two seconds away from being a couple and you got in the way.” You replied, deadpan. Sometimes Heather was a real bitch. This was one of those times. Poor Jessica had been following around that jerk since April and just when she’s about to get over him, he decides to pay her the time of day. And just when he seemed to genuinely like, Heather had to get bored and took Jeff away. Poor Jessica didn’t even know what hit her.

Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes at your comment. “That’s not the most interesting part of my shift though! I brought you a live one!” she giggled. You felt your blood run cold. Heather had no concept of what was appropriate ever. She had almost gotten you fired twice. This was not a good thing.

Heather waved someone over as you stared on wide eyed. Before you could even tell Heather to stop whatever she was trying to do, Billy Hargrove was standing in front of you, visibly put off by the children running around the shop and the bright, colourful decor. His eyes scanned yours boredly, his eyes narrowing judgementally.

“Alright, it’s piercing time!” Heather cried, clapping excitedly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes “Alright, the piercing package costs thirty bucks. You pick your piercing from the case.” You pointed down into the glass case below you, lit up and filled with silver butterflies, flowers, stars, and other girly designs. “You just want the other ear, right?”

Billy’s eyes scanned the case, his eyes narrowing further, his upper lip curling up in disgust. “Nah, my nose.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Yeah, you can’t do that here.” You said, matching his tone. Billy looked quickly, his eyes blowing out in annoyance, looking between you and Heather.

Heather’s expression shifted and she laughed awkwardly “Of course you can!” she leaned over to you once Billy’s was sated enough to return to the difficult choice between the only ball studs in the case, one silver and one gold. “Don’t be fucking lame, Y/N…” she whispered harshly.

“I’m not being lame, it’s literally not something I can do.” You pulled the heavy, clunky piercing gun out from its drawer “This thing is literally only meant for ear lobes. It’s all I can pierce. Anything else I try will get super fucked up.” You explained, flashing the grey and white gun to the pair. It looked like a glorified hot glue gun, except splattered with a bit of dried blood.

Billy turned his attention to Heather, obviously annoyed “You said she could do it. I bought a nose ring in Carmel cause she could do it.” He grunted, obviously annoyed.

Heather looked over at you with her giant, pleading eyes, and for a brief moment you felt bad. Heather was just trying to look cool to this cooler, more popular guy and it had fallen flat so fast. You owed her something, for all the things she’d done for you over the years. With the barest of restrained sigh, you spoke up “Look, I can’t pierce your nose here, but I can do it at my place.” You said.

Billy scowled “Yeah? You got any proof?” he asked. He was getting more annoyed by the second; his expression growing harder and angrier if that was even possible.

You raised an eyebrow, tapping the small silver ring in your left nostril “Did this myself. Did all my piercings myself. How do think I got this job?” you countered. In truth, you’d done a mail in course and passed a piercing test on a rubber practise head. You were licensed in a week by Claire’s. You couldn’t even transfer the license to any other brand; they made it very clear in the paperwork you filled out.

Billy nodded, looking over your work. You guessed that it was satisfactory enough to him because a small smirk pulled at his lips. “What time you finished up here?” he asked. Heather cheered loudly, grabbing Billy’s bicep excitedly.

“I got like fifteen minutes left. Heather knows my address if you just wanna leave with her. I’ll meet you there.” You replied, looking over to your manager, who nodded for you to start your closing out.

“No way! You took the bus here, we’ll wait.” Heather said quickly “We’ll meet you in the food court.” She pulled Billy out of the shop with a wide grin, waving to you and mouthing ‘so hot!’ when he wasn’t looking. You chuckled, shaking your head. Heather thought every guy was hot, it didn’t mean much. But you wouldn’t deny that Billy was hot. Even with his cocky attitude and that ugly tattoo on his bicep that he insisted on showing off. You swore he’d cut all the sleeves off his tee shirts just to show off that stupid skull smoking a cigarette. Who the hell wanted that on their body forever?!? You weren’t too attracted to that level of ego, but Billy held a bit of interest around himself. There was some mystery, an aura of intrigue he seemed to hold around himself effortlessly, and that kept you interested enough to pay attention when you heard his name. He was just closed off enough to keep everyone guessing about him.

You took your time with your duties, making sure to snatch up the small silver ‘H’ earrings Heather had been eyeing for weeks now. They were in the case, so you were only supposed to be able to get them if you were getting a piercing in house. You’d convinced your boss to sell them to you, since you were an employee and wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and she agreed. You had intended to give them to Heather on her birthday, but there was no time like the present.

You half hoped that Heather and Billy would forget about you. You had this sickening feeling that it would be a tiresome ride. But to your chagrin they were waiting for you in the food court. Heather had gotten herself an Orange Julius and seemed to have put all her attention into the straw in her mouth, you assumed she was trying to put on a bit of a show for Billy, but he wasn’t paying much attention to her. You joined the group and endured quite possibly the longest and worst car ride of your life. Heather took over the front seat; it seemed that Billy had driven her to the mall, seeing as how her stinky work stuff was shoved in the back seat with Billy’s and, unfortunately, you. The entire back seat stunk like chlorine and mould, you guessed that one of them had forgotten a towel or swimsuit in their bag or under the seat for long enough to let it stink up the car. But that wasn’t the worst part, Billy didn’t seem to have A/C so all the windows were popped open and fresh air was blasting in your face and killing the smell, the worst part was that Heather seemed to think that this car ride was the perfect time to shamelessly flirt with Billy. She tried to pull her feet on the seat, but Billy didn’t want shoes on the leather, so she took off her flip flops but that was worse apparently. So she spent the whole time cooing about how hot he was and touching his arms and neck and hair. Touching his hair almost got her hand bit off. You wanted desperately for her to stop, you tried to tell her to cool it, but she told you to shut up. You didn’t bother after that.

But Billy seemed to notice that. He kept looking at you through the rear view, at first you thought he was just checking behind himself as he drove, but he was doing it too often for it to make sense. Then you finally let him catch your eye and he smiled. Well, it was more of a lopsided smirk, but you took it as a compliment. He hadn’t even attempted to smile the whole time he was around you, but now, with Motley Crüe blasting through the speakers and the wind whipping up everyone’s hair, he was apparently happy to have you around. You took it as a sign of gratitude for at least trying to get Heather to calm her hormones and just smiled back.

You directed Billy to your place, well at least you attempted to. Heather took over easily, drowning you out. “Y/N’s place is right over there-oh! Is your mom home? She’s gonna get pissed if you have a boy in your room; remember what happened when she caught Carl Simpson in your room? God, I can’t believe you lived through that!” she cackled loudly, her intent most definitely to make you blush. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, no she’s working late. She’s always working late.” You said, trying to hide the annoyed bite to your voice, masking it with a laugh. Heather just continued to cackle loudly, which hid your defeated sigh. Billy parked on the street without you having to ask and he climbed out angrily. You rushed to get ahead of the group, keys jingling in your hand, and unlocked the door.

“If you don’t mind, can you take your shoes off?” you asked as a wave of A/C smacked you in the face. You kicked off your sneakers as Heather and Billy stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Ugh, come on Y/N! That’s weird!” Heather moaned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Heather. You know if I get shoe prints all over the tile, my mom will get pissed. You never have a problem with it when we’re hanging out, so don’t be a weirdo now.” You replied. Billy simply kicked off his own shoes, leaving Heather to groan loudly but to follow suit. Then and only then did you let them trek through your house and into your bedroom. You lived in a bungalow, so your room was at the back of the house, facing your backyard.

“Alright, you want your nose, yeah?” you asked, popping open your front door and heading to your bookshelf. You dug through your worn paperbacks until your fingers hit the firm spine of Catch 22. You pulled it off the shelf, popping open the cover and revealing the carved out middle. Your mother was the type to rifle through your stuff to try to catch you doing something wrong. You made the hiding spot solely to keep things that she’d take away. Inside, you had some spare cash, for emergencies, your hollow needle, and the silver barbells you’d bought to use when you pierced your nipples, which you’d been meaning to get around to. You’d promised your mother that you’d stop piercing people. She’d found the bloody needle and freaked out. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a blood bath, but you’d pierced Samantha Burke’s upper cartilage that day and underestimated both how much it would hurt her and how much of a mess it would make. You swore up and down that you’d stop, but your wannabe cool classmates paid big bucks for you to pierce their ears. There’d been an insane influx of boys wanting their ears pierced after seeing how popular Billy was. You didn’t correct them when they wanted the left ear, especially if they were dicks, and you took the cash happily. What your mother didn’t know didn’t hurt her.

“Yeah.” Billy said stiffly. He stood in the middle of your room, unsure what to do with yourself. You only lived a street down from him, too close to his father for comfort. His father already didn’t like the earring, doing his nose could get him in even deeper shit. He was willing to risk it though, purely to look cool.

“Which nostril, left or right?” you asked, bending down to reach into the lowest drawer of your desk, pulling out a lighter and, flicking open the flame, running it over the needle to sanitize it.

Billy chucked “Neither, I want the bull ring.” He said proudly, puffing out his chest. You looked up from the flame, looking him over for any signs of bluff. He looked too serious about this.

You nodded “Alright, I’ve never done a septum ring, but I’ve done the cartilage before, shouldn’t be any different.” You replied with a shrug “You got a big enough nose ring on you? Or am I cleaning and selling you one of mine?”

Billy reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a silver ring. It looked like it was actually made for a nose, which was a good sign. You’d pierced enough idiots to know that people think that any old earring would work in their nose or eyebrow or lip.

Heather was completely agog “No way, Bill! You can’t do your nose like that! I hate that!” she cried. Both you and Billy looked over at him, bouncing on your twin bed angrily. You raised an eyebrow at Billy, who seemed to understand the look immediately: ‘are you two dating?’ He shook his head.

You closed your eyes, trying not to strangle your friend. She always seemed to think that the world and people’s choices revolved around her. Instead of freaking out, you simply nodded “Heather, you want your second hole today? We can do it really fast before Billy’s nose.” You said.

“Oh duh! But I didn’t bring my earrings and I’m not paying for a set of yours, so unless you’re coughing up a pair for free, I’ll wait.” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

You flicked the lighter closed, placing the needle on your desk and pushing yourself onto your feet, reaching into your purse. You pulled out the earrings, tossing them to your friend. “Here, happy birthday.” You smirked. Heather caught them and squealed loudly, clutching them to her chest and kicking out her legs.

“Thank you!” she cried, reaching out to grab your neck and hug you tight. You chuckled, patting her back awkwardly.

“Okay! We’ll do yours first, go grab like a full tray of ice from downstairs, okay? And a roll of paper towel.” You instructed. Heather jumped to her feet, rushing downstairs as fast as she could. You resumed what you were doing, grabbing your lighter to disinfect the needle one more time.

“You wanna see what those things look like when they get ripped out?” you asked, turning your attention to Billy, who had taken to looking through your shelves boredly.

“What things?” he asked, his tone annoyed and deeply tired.

“The bull rings.” You replied. Billy hummed and you took that as the go ahead to grab the picture from your copy of Catch 22, pulling the Polaroid from underneath the cash. You handed it to Billy wordlessly.

The image was gruesome. It was of a guy, a few years older than Billy and you, with a bright red mohawk and dressed in a suit. He stood next to who Billy could only assume was the dude’s bride in an ugly reception hall. But that wasn’t the gruesome part; the part that made Billy’s stomach turn was the guy’s nose. It was mangled beyond belief, shrunken and crumpled. The guy only had one full nostril, the left one turned into a short of half open hole, a bunch of cartilage gone and gaping. It was quite honestly gross.

Billy cringed as he examined the guy. You took the moment to explain. “That’s cousin and her husband, Ben. Total punk rockers. Like three months before the wedding, I went with them to a Pixies concert and we all went to the mosh pit together. I guess I looked at this girl’s boyfriend or maybe I looked at her wrong because she tried to pick a fight with me. Ben stepped in, and before he could even say anything to her, she reached up and yanked out his nose ring. It tore the cartilage and he had to have his whole nose reconstructed. He couldn’t afford to have the nostril reconstructive surgery on top of the general nose reconstruction to save his one solid nostril and the bridge from collapsing.” You said.

Billy looked up, trying to bring his expression back to a neutral one “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, handing you back the picture.

You sighed “Look, everyone in the town knows that you get into fights. Having a big ole ring in the middle of your nose is just a really good place to grab for someone who wants an easy win on a fight.”

Billy scoffed “Only girls grab at shit to make a fight easier.”

You shrugged “Maybe, but I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t try to not get their ass beat by a guy twice their size.” You replied, popping the picture back into your kit.

Billy sighed “Would you do the left or right side then?” he asked.

You smirked slightly, looking him over. You bought your hands to his hands, which made Billy gasp slightly with his mouth shut. You ignore it, turning his face to the left and right, examining each side. The right side was better.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t do either. It’s not your look.” You said, letting his face go. He was very pretty up close, which gave you all the more reason to pull away before you did something stupid.

“Well I want something!” he cried and you laughed. Billy smirked as your face broke into a grin. It was the first genuine smile you’d had all day and it was quite pretty. He thought you were prettier than Heather, although he wouldn’t admit that if he still wanted the blow job Heather had been eluding to wanting to give all day.

“I can pierce your other ear, or give you a second hole on your right ear.” You said. Billy cringed and shook his head at both options. You thought for a second before a daring idea came into your head. You hesitated to give it, purely because you’d spent money on it for yourself, but you felt bad for making him give up on the idea.

“How about your nipples?” you said. Billy’s mouth fell open slightly, but he swallowed slightly, closing it. He’d never thought about piercing his nipples, but he immediately liked the idea.

“You ever pierce a nipple?” he asked, leaning closer to you. He was really hoping you’d say yes. He could feel himself warming up just at the thought of a great pair of tits with silver barbells glinting in the sunlight.

“No, but I had planned to-if you’re worried about me fucking up, I can do one of mine first.” You said, pulling the silver barbells of his dreams out of the book and flashing them to him with a smile.

“Oh no sweetheart...I trust you. But you gotta let me do yours if you want them done.” He replied.

“You do piercings?” you asked sceptically, placing the barbells on your desk.

“Doesn’t seem too hard.” He replied, inching closer to you. You back into your desk, exactly where he wanted you.

You chuckled, pressing a hand into his chest, and pushing him off you. “Yeah, the only amateur I get pierced by is myself, that way if I fuck up I have no one to blame but myself.” You explained. Heather burst in right on cue, ice melting down her hand and a damp paper towel roll in hand.

“Sorry! Took awhile to find the paper towel.” She announced, plopping the roll on your desk and tray next to it.

“It’s cool, you ready to do this?” you asked her. She furrowed her brow nervously, but you gestured to your desk chair. She sat down and gripped the arms to ease her shaking hands. You grabbed a cube from the tray and pressed it to her left lobe. “Alright, hold that there for a second sweetheart, I gotta unpack your earrings.” You reached for the package and pulled off the tape that secured the backings to the earrings. You pulled the cheap backing off the spoke and released the ‘H’ from the teal plastic hanger and placed it flat on the desktop.

“Nice and numb?” you asked. Heather bit down hard on her lip and nodded. You grabbed a black sharpie and marked her lobe. “Alright we’re going to count to three, take a deep breath with me, okay?” you took in a deep breath and Heather followed, shutting her eyes. You grabbed the needle and placed it against the marking.

“Let the breath go.” You huffed the breath out and when Heather did the same you plunged the needle into her lobe. She squealed but you counted loudly over it “One, two,” you grabbed the earring, placing it into the hole in the needle and pulling it through “Three. There, you’re halfway done.” You said, capped the earring and wiping down the needle with a bit of paper towel. Earlobes don’t generally bleed much and your needle came through practically clean, but you wiped it down anyway, if only to calm her nerves.

“Are you okay for me to do one more?” you asked. Heather nodded and you grabbed another cube from the tray, pressing it to the right lobe. The process repeated again and Billy watched on baited breath. At first, he was only interested in staring at your ass and imagining filthy things at the idea of you hovering over Heather and making her bite her lips for other reasons. But Heather wasn’t the interesting part of this image; it was you with your kind words and gentle but firm touches. Even when he got bored of the fantasy, he still watched you, utterly transfixed by you. Heather’s squeal pulled him out of his fantasy and back into the warm light of your bedroom. You capped the back of the second earring, stepping back to admire your work.

“Do they look alright?” Heather reached up to touch the new pierces, as if they weren’t real. As if she didn’t feel them stab through her head.

“They’re completely crooked.” You said, deadpan. Heather gasped loudly and you backtracked quickly “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! They look great!” Heather smacked you hard in the stomach, forcing herself out of the chair and over to your bed.

“We doing this, Hargrove?” you turned to him, looking him over confidently. He nodded, licking his lips. “Alright, lay down, Heather I’m gonna need you to move.” Billy tore off his shirt and Heather’s mouth dropped open as you ran the flame over the needle again.

“Oh my god what is going on?” Heather asked, practically drooling.

You rolled your ice “Heather, move your ass and grab me some ice. Billy, which side we doing here?” you asked, grabbing the package of silver barbells and ripping it open, pulling out one and bringing it over to the bed.

“Right.” He said confidently and you took the ice from Heather, straddling Billy and pressing the ice to his nipple. Billy shivered under you and you smirked.

“Heather, pass me the sharpie.” You said, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“This is insane...” Heather breathed, passing you the black marker. “Where’s your camera?”

“Nightstand drawer.” You replied, uncapping the marker with your teeth. Billy turned sharply to look for Heather, his face turning into a snarl. You leaned down, grabbing his chin and turning him back to you. His mouth fell open slightly as you leaned into his ear, whispering “Relax, you look hot...” you breathed hot air onto his neck as you spoke and his skin broke into goose bumps.

“You numb?” you asked. Billy nodded, even though he didn’t think his senses could be less numb if he tried, all of his nerves were alert and on edge. “Good...” you muttered, marking the spot for your needle and unscrewed one end of the barbell. You heard a click and saw the flash go off in the corner of your eye, but you ignored it, focusing on the warm skin under your hands.

You looked him over with a smirk “You need a countdown or are you gonna be a big man for me?” you asked, another flash trying to spot your vision. Billy swallowed hard and let out a small yelp, nodding confidently despite the sound coming out of his throat. “Good boy...” you whispered, shoving the needle through the hardened pink flesh. You felt every inch of him tense up as the pain shot through the bundle of nerves you’d just stabbed through. You mistook the final flash of the camera for stars as you felt him stiffen under your ass. You slid the barbell into the hollow end and slid the needle through, screwing the ball back on.

You smiled, admiring your work for climbing off him and dropping the needle on the mattress. “Alright, use rubbing alcohol to clean those at least once a day. I am not responsible for any infections you get because you can’t take care of yourself.” You explained, pulling your white tee shirt back over your hips. Billy sat up slowly, drinking you in like a cool glass of water, his mouth turning up as you turned around, packing up your kit and returning it to your hiding places.

“My mom’s gonna be home soon and I really wanna change. You good to take Heather home?” you turned your attention to Billy and he nodded slowly.

Heather got up, pulling you into a tight hug and sliding something into your back pocket. “Call me later?” she asked. You nodded, shoving your hands into your back pockets once she let go. Thick and glossy, they had to be the photos. You smirked; you’d look those over once she was gone. Heather headed out of the room as Billy examined himself in your full length mirror before tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

“You alright?” you asked, coming up behind him in the mirror.

“Just admiring your handiwork,” he replied, cocking his head to look at you “You think I can come back and get the other one done?” he asked.

“Sure...” you replied, looking him over slowly “Maybe you leave Heather behind next time.” Billy chuckled darkly, nodding slowly as his tongue slipped out of his mouth again.

“Alright then...I’ll see you around.” You said. You wanted to look over your pictures before you made any plans. You had to know if it looked as hot as it felt. But you had a feeling that it was more than you could ever imagine, no matter how hard you had tried in the past.

[wayward-mikaelson]

Centuries Twelve

Word Count: 1363

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Rowena, Cas, Jack, Michael, and Hezekiah

About: A new lead is found on Hezekiah. Michael has a new vessel.

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Angst, Michael’s new vessel (I pictured this vessel super fucking hot so yeah it’s a warning. sue me) 

A/N: With this gif, let’s pretend that the boys are at the other end of the table so when the Michale in his new vessel comes in that’s the greeting he gets.

*18+ Content. If you are younger than 18 please scroll/move along. I do NOT want to risk my account being thanosed. 

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere else WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me the proper credit. I work too hard on my stories and would hate for them to be stolen.

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Chapter Eleven

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It's been two days and there is still no sign of Michael.

Dean tells me the bind removal was successful and that Michael hightailed it out of here with only the words "I'll be back." But I didn't really care, I mean, I did care in someway. He was a ticking time bomb without that bind to me. He could literally kill thousands upon thousands of people. I pray that he found his way to the bottom of the ocean and if that were the case, then so be it then. A door on my life will finally be closed for good.

After Rowena undid the bind and after Michael ran off, Dean told me that it too another twelve hours for me to wake up. And when I did wake up apparently I was still under the influence of that powder that smacked me in the face back at the house. I don't remember much of what happened but I guess that Rowena had been prepared for it cause according to her, I drank a sleeping potion and was out again for the night.

When I woke up again, I was feeling normal.

Now, I sit in the bunker kitchen twirling the spoon in my soup round in circles. Chicken noodle soup. From a can. Once things are back in order and Hezekiah is gone for good and maybe Michael too, I will have to get this kitchen back in order. Making homemade soups and dinner again like the good old days.

"Oh, you got that look on your face," Dean steps into the kitchen. He stops when he see me. The outfit he's wearing, although super normal, is super hot right now. "Whats on your mind?"

Sitting back from the bowl of soup, "Just the possibility that we might hear of a nuclear bomb going off and killing thousands. Plus, I'm not eating this." I push the bowl away from me.

Dean looks a little heart broken when I say that. "I made that and it was all we had. Sort of been busy to go out on a supply run. But no worries, I'll eat and I'll take you to get a greasy burger while we go for that supply run."

I smile and reach across the table and move the soup. Dean looks at the empty space and then at me. "You want to know what I really want?"

Dean swallows whats in his mouth. "And what's that?" He raises an eyebrow knowing what's about to happen and go down.

I get and walk around the table. As I do, Dean pushes the chair he's sitting in away from the table and leans back with his one eyebrow still raised. "Hmmm," I straddle his lap and slowly run my hands up his chest to the top button of his shirt. "I was thinking, something quick. Something pleasurable. And just maybe, something a little naughty."

I feel Dean's member get hard under me. A low growl is heard deep within his chest and came out as a small groan. Dean wraps his arms around me and in the next minute he's pushing me up on a wall next to the coffee bar and knocking a few things off it. My legs are tightly wrapped around him while he pins my arms above my head while his lips attack mine. Nipping and bitting at whatever bare skin he can.

Dean releases my arms and pushes my legs off him. He takes both his hands and grips the neckline of my shirt and rips the fabric in half all the way down to the bottom. Dean looks me over and smirks. "No bra?"

"Nope, I hate those things with a passion today."

Dean licks his lips and attacks mine again before kissing, nipping and bitting his way down to my neck. Down between my breasts as he takes hold of both and gives them a gently but firm squeeze. Down to the button of my jeans. I look down and see his raised eyes looking into mine. Waiting for permission to go on.

"Well," I say softly. "What are you waiting for?"

Dean smiles big and as soon as he gets the button undone, Sam comes walking into the kitchen.

"I heard something fall in here, are you guys-" Sam's voice is cut off by what he sees. I quickly cover myself in my ripped shirt as Dean stands up and positions his body in front of mine. "You know there is something called a room, right? I'm going to just pretend I didn't see what was going to happen."

"Yeah well, you should have just done that in the beginning instead of interrupting." Dean takes his button up off and hands it back to me. I grab it and quickly put it on.

"Well sorry for being concerned for your well being," Sam snaps back. "No worries though, I'll let you get back to it."

I peek around Dean, "Sam, you kind of killed the mood."

Just then, we hear the bunker door open. The three of us walk towards the war room of the bunker where we can hear whoever came in walking down. When we get there, we see a talk blonde hair man in a grey suit walking down the stairs. As he's fixing the cuff links on his sleeves,  Dean steps in front of me and pulls out his gun. Sam does the same. I look down to make sure the button down shirt I now wore was actually fixed.

"Who are you?" Dean asked firmly. "How did you get in here?"

"How did you find the place?" Sam adds.

I peek around Deans side and see the man look up and make eye contact with me. His eyes are a piercing blue. The way he looks me over, feels oddly familiar. But I've never seen this man before in my life. "YN," His voice is smooth and not deep. He straightens his body and holds himself high just like...

"Michael?" I whisper walking around Dean. Dean tries to pull me back but I push his hands away. "Is that..you?" I ask tilting my head to the side.

"Yes," he replies taking a step towards me. I feel my back tense up. "I'm sorry, I should have found a way to contact you but I didn't have your numbers or stuff for a simple spell."

"What poor bastard said yes to let you in?" Dean steps beside me and I can feel the the tension in his body.

Michael looks down and smiles. "Ah yes, Gillian Branson. He was an accountant until he was hit by a truck. I found him dying in the the ambulance and told him he will no longer be in pain if he let me in. And with the promise that he will see his lost wife in Heaven."

"Is he, still in there?" Sam asks lowering his gun and putting it away. I look next to me to see Dean still has his gun in his hands. I touch his hand to assure him it's okay. He gently pushes my hand away.

"Sadly, he passed on after he said yes and after I entered him. So it's just me in here." Michale pulls a chair out and sits down.

"Oh, who is this handsome fella?" Rowena walks into the war room and her eyes get wide as she looks over Michael.

"Michael and his new meat suit," Dean finally puts his gun away.

"Oh, such a lovely pick," Rowena walks around Michael. Feeling his shoulders and muscles. "Firm, this lad used to work out. You can hold down a woman with those." Michaels eyes snap over to me. My stomach starts to feel tight. I don't know if it's Michaels vessel stirring something up because his new vessel is pretty attractive, or the way Michaels dig deep into mine trying to find something buried.

"Rowena, you're drooling too much," I say startling the witch out of her day dream.

"Alright," Rowena gives Michael one more rub down before walking away. "I'll get the things for the spell to make his vessel stronger and last longer."

Michaels eyes never leave mine. "Perfect, because I know where Hezekiah is. We can end this tomorrow night."

[zuluoscarecho]

It’s A Party - Ch 3

Part 3/5. Below the cut ‘cause…you know (Part 1 here) (Part 2 here) Read on AO3

Isobel’s latest charity event was another in a long string of events ever since Noah’s disappearance had been converted into a sad tale of him leaving his beautiful, innocent wife because she couldn���t have children for him. As far as Roswell knew, he’d run off to New York and left Isobel all alone.

The pitying, bored, housewives of Roswell had deep pockets for Ann Evans’ poor, abandoned daughter and Isobel was lapping up the attention, and the work.

Michael had been in attendance at said events more and more since Alex and Isobel developed a friendship, but he’d never dressed as nicely as he was tonight.

Michael was wearing a burgundy sweater that Alex distinctly recognised as being a part of his closet, not Michael’s.

He had a very distinct memory of sitting outside the airstream in exactly that sweater and his leather jacket, waiting. He’d felt more like himself that day than he had since coming back to Roswell. He pushed away the memory and instead looked at Michael, here and now.

The sweater fit him well, stretching across his shoulders and bringing out the colour in his skin from working outside. His curls barely brushed the collar and the burgundy brought out the gold so he looked more angelic than Michael Guerin had any right to, especially considering the things he could do with his mouth.

Alex swore under his breath, he’d been looking for that sweater for months. Sure it had some relatively negative connotations attached to it, but he knew he looked good in it and he was willing to let go of the past now that Michael was his.

It was completely unfair how good Michael looked when he scrubbed up, especially in Alex’s clothes.

The sweater was tight on Alex, showing off his toned upper body and it was a little looser on Michael but it still looked amazing and Alex felt a thrill go up his spine at the idea of Michael wearing his clothes outside of the house.

Michael’s wardrobe had been limited due to funds and also his relatively outcast lifestyle, and while Alex had spent the majority of his time in fatigues for the past 10 years he’d still managed to acquire a quite extensive wardrobe of clothing and Michael had taken to wearing his shirts around the cabin. It gave Alex a thrill every time, especially the faded Air Force basic training shirts that Michael lounged around in. Seeing Michael in a piece of clothing that was so obviously his drove him crazy and tonight was no exception, even if he was the only one who knew it was his shirt.

He reached Michael’s side just as Isobel did and realised he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Michael’s clothing choices.

“That’s a nice sweater, Michael, I didn’t know you owned anything this nice,” Isobel commented, sliding a hand across his shoulder and admiring the fabric. “It looks good." She cocked her head to the side as she examined it. "It’d probably look better on Alex though, it’s more his colour. You should let him borrow it.”

Michael turned to face Alex’s knowing gaze and smirked. “I’ll think about it Iz. I’m not sure we’re quite at the sharing clothes point yet.”

“Whatever Michael, you’re basically married.” She rolled her eyes and glanced up as someone called her name. “I have to go, don’t duck out early!” Isobel turned and fluttered away, off to deal with some aspect of the event.

Alex raised an eyebrow at Michael once Isobel was gone and stepped into his space, sliding his hands up Michael’s arms along the soft material to rest around his neck. “Not at that point yet, huh? You know I found my old Air Force hoodie in the airstream last year. I lost it 7 years ago.”

Michael shrugged innocently. “I didn’t know it was there, you must’ve left it behind.”

“It smelled like you, and had grease stains on the sleeve.”

“Awww you know what I smell like, that’s cute.” Michael pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled Alex against his chest.

Alex pushed against him, more in half-hearted protest than out of shame or fear of being seen with Michael in public. “You steal my clothes all the time, Guerin,” Alex said, exasperated. “The only thing that doesn't smell like you is my uniform.”

Michael went still for a minute and he pulled back to look at Alex carefully. “I didn’t realise it bothered you. I can stop.”

His voice was quiet, eyes serious but Alex could see the sadness there. Michael would stop, if Alex asked, but he didn’t want to. He thought it was worth it to keep the peace, peace between them that still seemed so fragile despite months of being together and how they’d settled in as if the past 10 years really had been just a long distance relationship not an on again off again fling neither of them could let go of.

“No, Michael, I don’t want you to stop, I-” Alex stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes up to look into Michael’s again. They’d been working on this open and vulnerable communication thing and Alex still struggled with voicing his wants, with believing that what he wanted even mattered. “I like it when you wear my clothes.”

Michael grinned, the smile lighting up his face and he leaned forward to kiss Alex. “Good, me too. Besides, you clearly have better fashion sense than me.”

“My high school clothing choices beg to differ.”

“Iz literally just said so and you know she’s the leading expert on the topic.”

At that point Isobel stepped on stage and called the crowd’s attention and Michael and Alex wandered over to watch.

Barely two minutes into Isobel’s opening speech Alex felt Michael move from beside him. He took a step back and to the side to press against Alex’s back and Alex could feel his lips brush against his ear and he repressed a shiver.

“If we go now, we can get a quickie in before Iz even finishes her speech.” Michael punctuated the statement by pressing his hips up against Alex’s ass in a slow grind that would be hardly noticeable to people watching them but Alex could feel the entire hot length of Michael’s body pressed against his, their torsos, their hips, their knees all lined up and slotted together like spoons.

Michael twined one finger around one of Alex’s belt loops and tugged gently, not wanting to upset his balance. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Alex turned to face him and Michael’s arm stayed in his belt loop, wrapping around his waist. “You always make sure you make it worth my while, Guerin.”

“Damn right I do, Private.”

Alex rolled his eyes and pushed at Michael to lead the way.

They were barely out of sight of the rest of the guests before Michael was turning around and pulling Alex into a kiss, letting Alex guide him the rest of the way into the bathrooms. Alex pushed Michael through the door, noting the conveniently empty stalls and urinals, the rest of the crowd tonight obviously thinking the speeches more important than a bathroom break. Alex pressed himself back against the door and flicked the lock, pulling Michael against him.

Alex slid his hands under Michael’s shirt (his shirt) and up his sides, pulling it up and over his head to drop on the counter so he had full access to his chest. He let his fingers trace paths they’d mapped before, down over Michael’s ribs, around the small of his back, then back up through the centre of his chest, the hair there tickling at his palm, before they inevitably made their way to his curls. Alex felt the soft silk of Michael’s hair slide through his fingers as he tugged Michael into a kiss he was more than willing for.

It had been a long time until they’d been able to kiss like this, soft and slow and in no rush. For so long they’d been all desperate, hard kisses as if they were both afraid the other would disappear from their grasp if they didn’t kiss hard enough. Or there’d been the sad goodbye kisses when Alex knew he had to leave and this would be the last time for who knew how long and it was desperate and heart breaking and they’d done it over and over again. And then they’d come back to each other and tried to mend the cracks in their hearts with time spent with lips pressed against skin, as if each kiss would make it better.

But now, they got to be soft and slow and teasing.

Alex could lick into Michael’s mouth and make him groan, pulling back with a smirk only to make Michael chase him. Alex could push all of his love for Michael into the kiss without being afraid he wouldn’t understand because now he backed it up with his words, with his actions, with staying.

He could feel Michael’s cock, hard in his jeans, pressed against his. He rocked his hips forward and let Michael grind their hips back, pressing Alex against the door.

For all that his training rallied against him being pinned to a hard surface, a not too insignificant part of Alex would never get enough of Michael pressed up against him.

Michael’s fingers made quick work of the buttons on Alex’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, the sleeves catching on his wrists. He ignored Alex stuck in his shirt now that the obstacle was out of his way and went straight for the fly of his jeans and got his hand down Alex’s pants and on his cock.

Alex groaned at the feel of Michael’s warm palm around him and fumbled faster with the buttons on his cuffs. He whined as he struggled with one button and felt Michael squeeze lightly. “Michael wait, please, I want to touch you too.”

Michael leaned forward to press sucking kisses down Alex’s neck to his chest as he began to slowly stoke his hand up and down Alex’s hard length. “That’s what you get for wearing a shirt with too many buttons.”

“I could’ve worn a nice burgundy one if someone hadn’t stole it,” Alex shot back as he yanked on the cuffs of his shirt and heard a button go pinging off the wall. He resigned himself to fixing it later but in all honesty it was 100% worth it to get his hands on Michael even one second faster.

Finally Alex’s hands were free and he reached to grab Michael through his jeans making him groan and his hand stutter on Alex.

Alex squeezed again, slow and steady making Michael let out a whimper and his head fall to Alex’s shoulder, hips bucking into Alex’s palm. “You’re the one wearing a belt with a buckle the size of Texas," Alex observed, rubbing him through the thick fabric of his jeans. "Maybe that extra obstacle means you don’t want me touching your dick.”

He felt Michael still against him and a second later his belt and fly were undone beneath Alex’s hands.

“No obstacles now,” he panted, pressing a kiss to Alex’s jaw in victory and turning back to rest against his shoulder. Alex couldn’t see the smirk on Michael’s lips, with his face pressed into his shoulder, but he could hear it. He knew the shape it made, the way he bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning too hard, pleased and smug.

“That’s cheating, Guerin.”

Michael ignored him, looking down to focus on Alex, still hard and aching. He pulled his cock from his jeans for better access and started up the rhythm that drove Alex crazy.

“You never seem to mind when I’m using my powers to open you up while I suck you off.”

Alex groaned and a trickle of precome leaked from his dick at Michael’s words and Michael turned his face into Alex’s neck to press a kiss there.

They had tried experimenting with Michael’s powers to great success. Alex liked to test his control and Michael liked to tease him, all in all it was a very welcome addition to their sex life.

Alex wrapped a hand around Michael’s cock and squeezed in retaliation. He slid his hand up to palm the head, sliding back down and spreading the little bit of precome. He sucked biting kisses down Michael’s neck and along his collarbone, marking him up in his wake. He stopped to tease and tug at a nipple and Michael groaned, hips jerking forward and his rhythm on Alex stuttering momentarily before he redoubled his efforts.

“Whoever comes first gets bragging rights?” Alex panted, bucking his hips into Michael’s grasp.

Michael pulled back to look at him, keeping eye contact as he brushed his thumb over the head of Alex’s cock, making him groan and his eyes fall shut.

Alex opened his eyes a second later to catch Michael’s smirk.

“You’re on, baby."

Without any preamble, Michael started to jerk him off in earnest, picking up a steady rhythm and Alex could feel his orgasm building in the way his stomach tightened and his breath came out in pants against Michael’s hair.

Alex felt Michael’s lips at his ear and he groaned, knowing what would come next. Any time that Michael opens his mouth, pure filth spills out.

“Fuck Alex, you’re so gorgeous like this. I love the feel of you, so hot and heavy in my hand. I love watching you come, feeling it on my skin, the taste.”

Alex made a low sound in the back of his throat as he came, spilling over Michael’s fist and spurting onto his chest and abs. Michael kept pumping him through it until Alex pushed him off, whining at the overstimulation.

Michael looked at him in victory but his expression changed when Alex blinked away the haze of orgasm and focused on Michael.

He kept his gaze on Michael’s face, watching as his eyes slipped shut and he let out a moan as Alex dragged a hand through the cooling come on Michael’s stomach and used it to ease the slide on his cock. His hand sped up and he bit down over a mark on Michael’s collar bone. Michael came with a sound like the air’s been punched out of him and Alex grinned in satisfaction. Alex continued stroking him, milking him dry until Michael shuddered and pushed his hand away.

“Fuck, this is so messy,” Michael complained, running his hand through the mix of come on his stomach and chest.

Alex nodded in agreement and moved over to the sink to wash his hands and wet some paper towel to clean off his own skin and Michael’s.

“Worth it though, right?” Michael said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Would I keep letting you drag me into bathrooms if I didn’t think it was worth it?”

“Me?” Michael scoffed. “Last week at Kyle’s I was just minding my own business when you came up and whispered filthy things in my ear, what was I supposed to do with that?”

Alex passed Michael the paper towel and started buttoning his shirt up while he watched Michael wipe the come from his abs. He tore his gaze away from the view of their come mixed together on Michael’s skin and looked around for the button he’d lost. He found it sitting on the floor and tucked it in his pocket, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow to hide the missing button on the cuff.

Once he was clean Michael tossed the paper towel into the rubbish and turned to look languidly at Alex.

Alex stepped forward to run his fingers across the damp skin of Michael’s torso. He slid one hand up Michael’s chest to one nipple which he pinched lightly.

“You could always say no,” Alex murmured against his ear, nipping teasingly at the skin behind it that always made Michael’s knees go weak.

Michael whined squirming against the door but not pulling away. “C’mon Alex, we can’t do this again, the others will be pissed, you know how they get, especially Iz.”

Alex kissed him again, hard and filthy, tongue seeking its way into Michael’s mouth to tangle with his and fingers coming up to tug at Michael’s hair the way he liked.

Michael moaned, pressing his hips against him and Alex could feel Michael’s cock twitch against his stomach in eagerness.

They pulled apart panting and Michael dropped his head to rest against Alex’s shoulder with a tortured groan. “Seriously Alex, we cannot go again, just because my dick says we should go again does not mean we should go again.” Michael’s eyes were closed as he shook his head back and forth against Alex’s shoulder.

Alex ran his hand down Michael’s stomach to hold his dick in his hand and squeeze lightly before he tucked him back into his pants and zipped them up carefully around his half-hard cock.

“We’ll have to wait till we get home then.” He ducked out the door leaving him alone to finish getting dressed and wait the appropriate amount of time before exiting after Alex to avoid suspicion.

“You’re the worst!” Michael called after him.

At least he had some positive memories with that shirt now, Alex thought as he rejoined the crowd as inconspicuously as possible.

[ivemetyouathousandways]

Let the rain wash it all away

Kvennesviga - Skålevik - Norway - Saturday 12:00 pm 

The sky was still relatively clear when a deafening explosion made me near jump out of my skin. Agent Brager had a small jump in his seat but kept his cool, hands firm on the steer wheel, foot on the pedal, everything under control. Sven slipped an arm around me and pulled me to him, not giving a damn that we were in fact in the back of a patrol vehicle, and not a taxi, and just about as I was signing the oh so beneficial “let’s not burst straight out of my chest” peace treaty with my heart, the skies opened as if the conglomerate of currently available, and ready to take your queries, gods, all decided to flush some heavenly toilets in some sort of Olympic synchronized grandiose spectacle, letting the Holy Mother of all downpours descend upon us like a wondrous cataclysmic waterfall. All of a sudden, the windshield was a beautiful liquid curtain, in the very literal sense of the poetic expression, a moving 3-D special effect in the absolute practicality. Agent Brager quickly put the wipers to maximum capacity but the poor mechanics were  barely delivering a second of clarity per stroke. 

Time seemed to have almost stopped and trapped us in some sort of odd intemporality, captured in the heavy, furious, raindrops clapping hard against the roof, their thick isolating liquid veil blinding us from all sides, the wipers struggling against the flooded windshield. On one front, I could literally feel Agent Brager behind the wheel, tense, on edge. On the  complete opposite end of the spectrum, on the backseat, Sven, his arm around me, was about the human manifestation of a warm snug blanket and pillow in which i was gladly sinking in. I vaguely wondered at which point I adopted his nonchalant perspective on our situation and stopped caring that we were in a patrol vehicle and not a cab. 

“Home sweet home!” Agent Brager declared joyously from the driver’s seat. 

I pulled away from Sven, instantly missing his warmth. The rain had lost about a whooping ten to twenty percent of it’s original intensity, still roaring proudly, still a deluge. I looked at the water curtain on the back passenger' window and hugged my purse tight to myself. I had left the house in my turtle neck alone, Sven had grabbed a light jacket coat at the last moment, and we were now equally soaked; me hugging my small bohemian purse in a vain attempt to protect my deck of cards and my passport from the wet beast from the skies, Sven struggling a little with the key and lock. 

“At least the rain washed the blood off.” He smiled back at me, holding the door open.

I shyly stepped in, minimizing the dripping zone as much as possible. 

“Come, come, you’ll catch death if you stand there!” And again a gentle arm behind my shoulders invited me to step in.

I awkwardly stepped in the space between the kitchen and the living room and stood in a very concise spot, dripping away in an Illy puddle. 

Sven rushed back with a blanket and stopped in front of me. Yes, a blanket would keep me warm but, the underlying problem was still very undeniably wet and cold against my skin, making me tremble from shivers.

“Would you like to take a warmth bath?”

I nodded. 

“Can you check in my purse if my deck is okay?” I asked after Sven filled the bathtub with near boiling hot water to my request. “And my passport.” Because, accessorily, my passport was also important, but my cards, they were special to me.

He nodded and left me to my bath. 

From one water to another - from freezing cold downpour to a burning hot comforting bath. From one man to another - from cold and distant King of Swords, to a warm and welcoming King of Cups. From the unbearable stress of being on the same social media at the same moment to the - 

To the soft knock on the door.

“I brought you clothes.”

“You can come in, Sven.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhm.”

I had my eyes closed but I imagined him carefully putting down a small pile of clothes on the closed lid of the toilet, stopping, surprised, maybe a little unease - was my nakedness too soon? - one more step, kneeling down by the tub. I felt hot water been squeezed out of a sponge hit and run down my shoulder. A simple gesture filled with care and tenderness. The soft caress of the sponge on my neck and under my chin, plunging in the water to pick up some more to be soon squeezed out on the my opposite shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for all of this mess.” He apologized, a little tired. “I never meant to drag you in this mess.”

“Then, what good do I serve in your life, if I can’t take any of the load off your shoulders?” I asked, and I wondered if we weren’t going too fast, too deep.

“Your cards are alright” I felt his finger on my cheek “they are dry.”

Dry. Wet. Water. 

Water. We are constituted from 70% of water, we need water to continue living, I mean, sure oxygen is the biggest non-negotiable dependable element to our operational state of being, but water was unquestionably the second most important. Water soothes. Water heals. Water cleans and cleanses. The sound of water relaxes - rain, ocean, bath water’s gentle tingle and dripple.

“How do you say water in Norwegian?”

He soaked the sponge and squeezed it out on the back of my neck.

“Vann”

One last run.

“I’ll let you finish up.”

“Thanks for everything, Sven.”

“It’s nothing.”

My heart melted when I saw that the clothes he was lending me were his own. A black hoodie cut in the shape of t-shirt with white sleeves and the mention “cult leader” on the chest, a pair of dark grey sweatpants with a cord to adjust the waist, and a nondescript pair of new, clean, pair of undies. Aww! Thank you Sven! For a second I thought of sporting only the panties and hoodie and go down like that but it could be too much. Too much, too fast. My mind ran in the hypothetical alternate reality and my heart raced a little. His hand slipping under the hoodie, freeing me from the whooping five minutes it had been in service. My tongue swirling around his. Would it be long, slow strokes or would be caught by fire and rushing it a little? A hand was bound to rid me of the undies, a finger or two would soon press against Satan’s doorbell… Unless it had another appellation when someone else maneuvered the rosebud?

I drained the bath water, trying to cool my thoughts. It would be a mistake…

You mean another one on your extensive list of?

You’ll have to agree he’d be one hell of a hot mistake though.

We are trying to heal from the last one. Snap out of it!

I pulled my tongue at my other self in my head. Party pooper!

Was I that desperate or that weak? Now, this is a question to be dissected later on, with a proper cooled down head, back at the B&B. Apparently, it was suggested that rape victims get back into the swing of things and have sexual experiences fairly shortly after their traumatic encounter, but was that method samely valid for broken hearts?

I dried my hands and went down to find Sven sitting on the floor of the living room, like we were on our first morning, cards laid out on the coffee table before him. He picked up one, studied the illustration and put it back, carefully, with the upmost respect, as if some ancient, unknown, powerful fairy would suddenly jump out straight at his jugular.

“They don’t bite, you know.”

He looked up, caught red handed. Why was he so goddamn adorable and charming and… Sven, you weren’t meant to… Oh, wait, I never had the power to decide how others would make me feel by simply existing and tumbling in my life.

Space was tight but I snuck in between the table and him, sitting between his legs. Is the message clear enough, Sir? I was happy, though, that he couldn’t see my flushing face because my attitude was causing a serious cheek burn!

“What were you asking them?” I asked, leaning back against him, making myself comfortable.

Right on cue, his arm comfortably rounded itself around me, blessing my prosperous attitude with the answer I was hoping for.

“The first row, I asked if a girl I been seeing recently, has any mutually shared interest and feelings.”

Ace of Wands, Ace of Cups, Lovers.

“How is said girl?”

“Hard to pinpoint.” He kissed the back of my head. “Only known her for the past three days.”

I snort giggled. Well, then, the cards have spoken and blatantly betrayed me.

“The Ace of Wands can be a young passionate person, a lovable rogue, they like action and are fiery. Could be an astrological sign ruled by fire. They like action, travels, diversified experiences, expanding knowledge, philosophy.”

“I am fairly certain she likes to travel, yes. Sadly don’t know her astrological sign nor if she likes philosophy.”

I swallowed my saliva as discreetly as I could and combated stress induced stiffness.

“She’s a Leo and she loves poking the mind’s terra incognita.”

Sven dropped a kiss behind my ear.

“Favorite intellectual or philosopher?”

Cornered.

“I don’t really know. I often drop Nietzsche’s name but it’s mainly because of that one nugget of gold he had left us.”

“Det som ikke dreper oss, gjør oss sterkere.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that.” I picked up the Ace of Cups. “New romance, new feelings, elation, a sense of conquering the world. Heart is overflowing with bounty, happiness. And the Lovers is the nail nailing the coffin shut. Especially in a love and romance reading, it’s one of the best omens you could hope for.”

Second row had the King of Cups surrounded by the five of cups to the left, the past, and the eight of wands to the right, the future. 

“What was your question here?”

“How does she - you - perceive me?”

“You are the king of Cups" I started.

“Do I feel that old to you?” He cut me off, picking up the card where a long,shaggy, silver white haired king held a cup and looked at the horizon. 

The king of Cups had one of those very strong, thin, sharp, conquering style noses that added even more severity to his already serious face where forehead wrinkles accentuated the sharp attentive eyes under which tired eye bags were added, as if the crows’s feet weren’t enough to show the long lived tiredness of the King. He wasn’t per se frowning, but he wasn’t smiling either. 

Among the Court carts, in the Dark Mansion Tarot deck, the King of Cups was undeniably the eldest king, as if Emotions were the first kingdom from which the fire of the wands, the mental stealth of the swords and the earthly bounties of the pentacles all flowed from. The original fountain of eternal life, the core essence of all human matters : emotions. 

“An emotionally mature man” I reprised, like a teacher subtly scolding a misbehaving pupil, “who is in full control of their emotions. He, the King of Cups, is calm and caring, diplomatic, affectionate, romantic, charming.You are surrounded by grief, and sadness, mourning, a heart break, but that is in your past; the Five of Cups. Ahead of you, or what you may be hoping for, you want to move away from the pain and hurt, is the Eight of Wands; movement, action, being swept off your feet, infatuation, strong positive forward energies.”

Next row had the Six of Cups framed by the the three of Swords to the left and the queen of Pentacles to the right.

“You miss your previous life with your wife and daughter. You were happy and fulfilled. You can’t quite stop reminiscing about the past, it brings you comfort but also heartache.”

“I didn’t tell you what my question was.”

But the sadness in his voice, even though subtle, was loud and clear enough. A muted cry of despair, silenced by his own strength.

“What was your question?” I whispered solemnly, as if I was talking with the dead.

He let his head rest on my shoulder.

“I don’t need to repeat it, you and the cards can see through all too well.”

“What happened with your wife?” I wanted to regret my question but i didn’t find it in me to do so.

“She was bored.” A whisper, a cry out to who wanted to hear his side. “I had accustomed her to fancy parties and cocktails, varnishes and somewhat big shots, celebrities. I groomed a monster.”

I didn’t move and fought myself violently to not drop judgmental bombs.

“I’m a sculptor, an artist.” He thought good to give me context. “You known how those things go, you must have seen some in movies. It’s exactly like that; fancy gowns and dresses, tailored suits, expensive jewelry, whispered secrets, enough compliments to drunken Satan himself, luxury left, right and center, connections. So and So is the proprietor of this or that estate in the mountains or near a lake, would love to have us over for brunch and discuss a custom piece. And it’s a beautiful illusion that hides unforgiving, merciless sharp teeth.”

I could just about taste and swallow the sour regret, the sharp burn as I was hearing out his long held truth.

“She had made herself a diamond river necklace of wealthy influential friends. And soon enough I was relegated to the influence the shadow of my name had to open even more influential doors. She wanted a bigger house to show off our wealth and prestige. A loft or a condominium in the capital. I didn’t share her views. I wanted our daughter to grow up in a healthy environment, rocked by the sounds of the ocean, eat healthy foods, be grounded.”

He sighed.

“Enough rambling of things long gone and past.”

“I guess, but, I have learned that keeping stuff inside is not exactly efficient or helpful.” I nudged and awaited his contratempo, realizing I been holding things back myself.

“Like you not fully letting your pain out to be examined and healed.”

What did I say!

“We have nothing in common.” I mumbled. “He’s secretive, not much of his personal life is out there to be looked at. I, on the other hand, I am too open, apparently I open my soul and heart. He speaks with his voice, I speak with the silence of my written words.”

Can you get any less… I dunno, vague?

Yeah, sure! Gimme a sec.

“Oh and he’s a YouTuber and I’m a fan, so, already there, it starts off all sorts of wrong.”

“Why?” He asked, dumbfounded as if it otherwise wouldn’t have any substantial impact.

“Because it has the same dynamic as a regular fan has for a celebrity, with all the potential” I waved and rolled my hand “the potential to ... You know how it can be. The only thing I demand and require from any man who has sparked fires in my heart is help in my sleeping process and inspiration for my writing.”

He hugged me tight and dropped a few more kisses on my neck. Sven, I swear, if you continue like that, we’ll be, sooner than later, end very naked and very entangled on the floor… And I’m not entirely against the potential of that, to be completely honest.

The very last row had five cards spread out and I wondered why or what had been happened in his thought process.

“What was your last question and why five cards?”

A hand finally snuck under the hoodie. I thought he’d never have the nerve to, but he remained a perfect gentleman, only gently brushing my side.

“What do the cards tell, overall?” He whispered in my ear and the warmth of his breath made me wish I was under some heavy duvet with him. I wanted his skin, his damp breath, his energy, his warmth against me, in me.

Is this a trick question?

The Devil was surrounded by The Fool at the far left extremity, then the Knight of Wands and the Hierophant to the far right and the Emperor right next to it.

“Well, what ever you asked, it’s… Very mixed.” I interpreted the overall theme, not wanting to project my own desires in the cards.

“The central card, the Devil is about addiction, seduction, superficiality, sexuality, taboo practices. It’s a very material, physical card. It’s usually the lower instincts of mankind.The Fool, on the far far left is about new beginnings, taking a leap of faith, being open minded to new things, an innocent view on the world, he’s just ready to experience the Grand Everything without fear or tainted thoughts.” I loved the fool, he was the innocence the world has lost. “Give me a clue, Sven. Is this card representing the past? A person?”

“Not the past.” He picked up the Fool. “Maybe the girl - or an aspect of the girl - who this reading concerns.“

"So then, let’s say that the left of the Devil is me, and cards to the right of the Devil is you.”

“Let me guess, left, the feminine, right the masculine.”

I nodded.

“Would it make sense?” His warm breath in my ear caressed my senses, sparking electric discharges. 

“Yes. The emperor is a mature, family man, he likes structure and he’s protective, he likes stability." I showed him the card in question, another long bearded crowned figure, expecting, awaiting a snazzy comment that didn’t come. “And you see this Hierophant, he stands for traditional values, conventional and conform ideas and practices, whereas the Knight of Wands is hasty, adventurous, rebellious, daring, a bit of a hot head who likes to make their own beaten dirt paths. 

I looked over at the cards, not convinced, not sold. 

“You sure you don’t want to tell me what your question was?” I asked pouting a little, hoping to pull some emotional strings.

“Ja."

I wanted to pull my tongue at him, but I wasn’t physically in a position where it would advantage my desired intention. I shuffled the cards, asking what he had asked about, what his intentions were, but the cards only offered conspiratory giggles back at me. The moon and Temperance.

“I asked what you meant, in that last question, but the Cards seemed to have sided with you.” I pouted. “The moon is something hidden and Temperance is patience and balance, a chemistry of opposing forces, alchemy, in sorts.” 

Hm.... that should bring an interesting light, eventually when inspiration and insight would hit and tingle my brain. I sighed and gently started assembling my crew to put them away in their box.

“What ate your plans for this afternoon?” He asked holding me tight to him.

“I don’t know… Wait for the rain to calm down and head home.” I was also starting to feel a little hungry. “Unless you have a better offer.”

“You are already home.” He corrected. “And we could upgrade our position for the sofa. Netflix and chill, as you younglings say.”

[captainsimagines]

Sorry

Peter Parker x Reader

- You Accidentally Hurt Him in Training

    Peter had always hated the attention you were getting ever since you became a new Avenger.  Part of the reason was because you joined the team faster than he was allowed to.  “No offence,” Tony would say, “but her powers needed to be studied right away”.  Peter scoffed at this cause, c’mon, he was the one bitten by the spider and it annoyed him that no one even asked how that happened.  Well, except for Ned.      

     Your powers were similar to Wanda’s, except you had the ability to become invisible.  This surprised the whole team, especially Peter.  The first time you told them about it, no one believed you.  But once you vanished, pinched Tony’s cheek, squeezed Steve’s ass and smacked Peter’s without any warning, it was hard not to.  Ever since the palm of your hand violated Peter’s bottom, he had always had a small crush on you.  Steve just laughed it off but of course, he was pink in the cheeks for a good thirty minutes after that.       

     Right now, you were practicing how to throw a punch while invisible and disappear quickly before someone realized you were standing right in front of them.  As you punched the dummy and vanished, you slid across the floor and grabbed the knives from your thighs, stabbing the dummy in the back.  You came to, wiped the sweat off of your forehead, and retrieved the knife from the beaten cushion.  Little did you know a certain spider was watching from the second story, marveling at the extreme skill you had.  He watched you practice the same move over and over again, never once getting bored.  So when you were about to re-do it, he chuckled and yelled,      

     “You know, I’m pretty sure the dude’s scapula has been stabbed enough times by now, Y/N.”    

     You were startled, to say the least.  Without thinking, you became invisible and threw the knife to where the sound came from.  Not until the knife was mid-way through its travel did you notice who actually spoke those words.  “No!”    

     Too late.  The knife plunged into Peter’s shoulder and he wailed.  He took the knife in his right hand and pulled it out quickly before looking at you with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “What the hell, Y/N?”    

     You picked yourself up and flew over the first railing, landing opposite of Peter’s scrunched over form.  “Peter, I am so sorry! You scared me!” you cried.    

     “Yeah, I scare a lot of people but never once did they throw a fucking knife near an important artery!”    

     Hearing Peter curse was new for you.  He had always treated you with respect and never cursed like a sailor in front of you.  Sure, you’ve caught him whisper curse words under his breath when he stubbed his toe but never once did you hear the word “fuck” at that volume.  This could only mean he was pissed.    

     “Oh my god, what should I do?” Your mind was scrambled and your hands didn’t know what part of Peter’s body you should grab.  You knew you shouldn’t touch the wound, but your hands hovered over it every so often.      

     “Get Tony!” Peter yelled.  With his good hand, he webbed the corner of the other wall and jumped off the railing.  You watched as he landed on the floor but scrunched over, still holding his injured shoulder.  “Tony!” he yelled, “I’m dying!”    

     You were so worried that when Peter mentioned he was dying, you laughed.  You actually laughed and Peter heard you.  He whipped around and waited until you landed on the floor with him.      

     “You’re laughing? Are you kidding me, Y/L/N?” he said.  Your hand covered your mouth and you spoke calmly.    

     “Peter, if I would have hit anything important you would not be standing.”    

     Just then, Tony came running in through the glass doors and looked between you and Peter.      

     “Alright, F.R.I.D.A.Y literally just said there was blood and lots of it.  Which one’s staining my floors?” Tony stood there and realized Peter, the one who was clearly in pain, was the one who needed his help.    

     “Oh, kid.  It’s a flesh wound… wait, no it’s not,” Tony tug on Peter’s shirt and sighed. “Why must you hurt spiders, Y/N? They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”    

     “Mr. Stark, could you just wrap me up?” Peter silently cried. Sure, Peter’s been in some really bad fights but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel pain.  He had been stabbed on multiple occasions but none had ever dug further than an inch. Feeling the knife deeper than that was enough to frighten the poor kid for a month.    

     “Peter, I am so sorry.  You scared me and I just… reacted,” you tried to explain.  Tony rolled his eyes.    

     “We’re in a very safe and secure building.  If it was anybody or anything else, it wouldn’t have made it to the training room without being noticed by anyone.”    

     As he and Peter walked out of the room, Tony chuckling every few seconds as Peter winced, you whimpered slightly.    

     “I’m still so sorry!”    

     Later that day, the whole team had heard about the incident.  You spent half the day covering your face with a pillow and the other half asking Tony if Peter was okay.      

     “If you’re so worried about your little spider, why don’t you go check yourself?” Bucky mentioned, not looking up from the video game he and Steve were playing.      

     “He hates me.  He honestly hates me,” you said quickly, raising your hands up in defeat.      

     “Look, kid,” Tony sat down next to you. “What you did was stupid and very unprofessional but Peter doesn’t hate you.  In fact, I’m almost positive he’s ecstatic that your little knife touched him at all.”    

     What you did was unprofessional, considering Avengers weren’t supposed to be startled by the smallest goddamn things.  You sighed, but quickly uncovered your face when you remembered the end of Tony’s little speech.  “What did you mean by ‘ecstatic’?”      

     Natasha silently snorted beside you and said, “Next time, let him stab you.”    

     After that small talk with the rest of the team, you found yourself outside Peter’s door.  You rocked on your feet and debated whether to knock or not. You finally sucked it up, though, because you definitely needed to apologize again.    

     After a short while, Peter opened the door and stood there silently.  However, he broke the awkward silence, “S-Should I check you for weapons before I l-let you in?”    

     You rolled your eyes and stepped into his room.  You sat on his bed and immediately started apologizing.

     “I am so sorry, again! I didn’t know who was there and I was so focused on getting that move right that I was just in fighter mode and I-I just… I don’t know.  I…” your right hand reenacted the ordeal, “threw… it.”    

     Peter stood there with his arms crossed and looked at you dumbfounded.

      “Okay… I forgive you.”    

     “Really?”    

     “Yeah… I mean… why wouldn’t I?” he sat down across from you on his bed, making sure not to brush his knee against yours because 1) he had just been stabbed by his crush and 2) he didn’t want to embarrass himself even further.    

     You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and stared at him with a thin smile.  You wanted to say something, anything to break the silence but you couldn’t think of anything besides, “Can I see it?”    

     “What? The wound?” Peter’s eyes slightly widened but he obliged anyways.  He pulled the sleeve of his sweater down his arm so his shoulder was bare before you.      

     “Oh…” you whispered.  You felt so guilty that you didn’t notice your hand were reaching up to touch the wound.  Peter watched as your hands got closer, not wanting to back away.  He knew that once you touched him the wound would hurt again but that didn’t matter at the moment.  All that mattered was that Y/N was about to touch him.      

     Once your hands were on him, you scooted closer to him.  Your faces were only inches apart.  Peter was looking at your lips as you inspected the wound.    

     Without thinking, you leaned and pressed your lips centimeters away from the injury, peppering kisses all over his collarbone and shoulder.  The intake of breath Peter made was only heard by you and him, and he prayed silently to whatever God blessed him with this moment.      

     You made your way up his neck and his jawline, stopping once you made it to the corner of his lips.  You inched away, only a little, so you could see the expression on his face.  His eyes were pitch black and his cheeks were red.      

     You whispered, “I am so sorr-.”    

     Peter cut you off and kissed you with so much passion that his wound hurt more than ever with the sudden movement.  You grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him closer.  You two rocked back and forth, not one of you knowing who was in charge.  When you deepened the kiss, he rocked backwards and when he deepened the kiss, you inched backwards as well.  You could feel his breath on your cheeks as he exhaled from his nose.  You didn’t know Peter Parker could kiss like this.  You didn’t know Peter Parker had even had his first kiss. Either way, you were on cloud-nine.    

     He tasted like honey, you thought.      

     “I already forgave you, Y/N,” he kissed you again and again.  “Now make it up to me.”

THE END.  

[fancymuffinparty]

A Foolproof Plan

Rating: G -T; for comic mischief.

Pairing: EreAni, Eren x Annie. Hints of other pairings.

Summary: How would Annie Leonhart ask her date to the Sadie Hawkin’s Dance? Here’s how! (No guarantees that it will all go smoothly… especially when your friends are idiots.)

Word Count: 1678

A/N: I love the RBA trio. Btw, this is slightly crack lol. That is all.

“Have you asked anyone to Sadies yet?”

If Annie Leonhart had to hear that question one more time…

Shiganshina High School’s Annual Sadie Hawkins’ Dance was but a week away.

All of her buddies had successfully asked their dates. Sasha was going with Connie, asking him after one particularly heated night of karaoke. Mikasa and Armin were going as friends, the crafty usage of a fortune cookie ultimately sealing the deal. Krista asked Reiner before first period with the help of a few others, each wearing t-shirts spelling out: S-A-D-I-E-S-?

Krista insisted on being the question mark.

Ymir coerced Bertolt using a charming combination of cleverly arranged Hershey’s kisses and brute force, putting on a show for everyone after his basketball game.

Someone managed to record the entire spectacle and upload it on YouTube. The video had over a hundred thousand hits last time Bertolt checked, lowkey dying of embarrassment but happy to have a date to the dance nonetheless.

At first, Annie was unsure if she even wanted to go, but her friends just wouldn’t give her a break.

“Come on, Annie!”

“Don’t be lame!”

“You have to go!”

The crew continued egging her on for the next couple days, reminding her that her crush had yet to be asked.

“I heard Eren doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You should ask him.”

“Do it!”

Annie was surprised Eren hadn’t been asked by anyone. When she mulled it over, the hints he kept dropping her at lunch made it seem as though he was waiting for her to ask him.

Hints within the realm of: “Wow, it sucks that I haven’t been asked to Sadies yet!”

And: “So I heard you haven’t asked anyone yet, Annie. Interesting…”

The real kicker: “Just so you know, Annie, I’m not doing anything Friday. Huh. That’s funny. Friday just so happens to be Sadies! What a coincidence, right?!”

Okay, okay. It was pretty obvious what he was trying to convey.

But how was Annie Leonhart going to play this out?

Everyone else had asked their dates in such cute and clever ways.

Mikasa practically went out of her way to ask Armin! A fortune cookie with the proposal written on the little piece of paper inside. A fortune cookie! A fortune cookie? Like, who does that?!

Sasha went all out with her Karaoke plan, stealing Connie’s heart by crooning away with songs like ‘Baby Come Back,’ and ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy.’

Krista had planned her proposal weeks in advance, ordering the special-made t-shirts ahead of time.

Ymir was going to be hard to top. No doubt, she made Bertolt an offer he couldn’t refuse, given her persuasive methods. It’s hard to say ‘no’ when a hottie with more sass than freaking Deadpool has you in a near chokehold and throws Hershey’s (and then literal) kisses all over your face.

In front of everyone at a varsity basketball game.

Annie was never the super competitive type, but she didn’t want to seem lazy either.

She couldn’t let her friends show her up, especially since it was their senior year.

It was do or die. Now or never. All or nothing.

This was it. Today was the day.

Annie Leonhart was ready to ask Eren Jaeger to the Sadie Hawkin’s Dance!

The only thing left for her to do was to time this out right. For now, she’d have to be quiet and remain perfectly still.

With the help of Reiner and Bertolt, she devised a foolproof plan, needing only a large cardboard box and a bag of gumballs.

Said bag of gumballs were in her hands. As for Annie, she was hiding in the giant cardboard box, carried delicately by Bertolt and Reiner as though they were handling a sort of ‘package.’ Seeing as how she only weighed around one hundred and ten pounds, she may as well have been a feather; no match for the muscular arms of her assistants.

The plan was for Reiner and Bertolt to ‘deliver’ the box containing the petite Annie to Eren’s house and from there, before Eren could open it- Booyah!

She’d burst open from the inside and surprise him!

Such a genius, she was!

Annie could make out a few distinct sounds from her position inside the box, readying herself mentally when she heard Reiner ring the doorbell to Eren’s house.

The door opened, followed by a slightly audible conversation.

“Reiner? Bertolt?” Eren looked back and forth between the two in confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

Bertolt was sweating nervously, as usual. Reiner had the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Special delivery for Eren Jaeger.” Reiner had one hell of a hard time suppressing a hearty laugh. It was making his stomach hurt. His lungs especially needed the release.

Eren raised a brow as the two gently lowered the ‘package’ to the ground.

“What’s this all about?” Eren asked.

Bertolt began stuttering. Reiner took a step back.

“Why don’t you open it?” Reiner clapped his hands together, figuring that was a good enough cue for Annie. He wanted to see how the rest would play out

“Uh… okay.” Eren shrugged.

Before he could move to try and open his package, he was taken aback when the box started… moving.

Inside the box, poor Annie began worrying. Why couldn’t she jump out in a glorious blaze like she’d seen in the movies?

Shit, she thought. I can’t get out!

“Guys,” Eren stammered, “is there something… inside the box?”

His question went unanswered as Reiner’s eyes widened in horror. “Bertolt… when I said ‘use the glue on the kitchen counter,’ you didn’t happen to reach for the yellow bottle, did you? The one with the missing label?”

Bertolt nodded. “Uhh… well… yeah. I used that one”

“That was super glue, Bertolt!” Reiner shouted in agony. “Shit!”

“Oh, no!” Bertolt gasped.

Eren grimaced. “So, how the hell am I gonna get this thing open?!” The box kept jumbling around. Whatever, or whoever, was inside seemed desperate to get out. “And who the hell uses super glue instead of ya know, TAPE, to seal a package?!”

“We ran out of tape! Look, there’s no time to explain, Eren! We gotta get it open!” Reiner hastily picked up the box and tried frantically to pry it open with no more than his bare hands.

“I don’t think that’ll work, Reiner!” Bertolt implored the blond beast to settle it carefully on the front lawn and then quickly said a prayer. “Forgive me, Annie.” He whispered.

To the horror of those in his presence, he began kicking the sides of the box in an effort to weaken its construct.

“What the hell?!” Eren gasped.

“Bertolt! No!” Reiner ran to stop his friend from continuing. “That’s not how we’ll get it open.” Reiner rolled up his sleeves. “This is how we’ll get it open.”

With that, he began punching the top of the hefty cardboard box, with the intention of doling out enough damage to free the enslaved Annie from the package’s restraints.

Eren could only watch in shock, frozen where he stood like a deer in a headlight.

He came to his senses when he heard something inside squeal in distress.

“Stop!” Eren dashed over to stop the idiots from causing any further damage. “Didn’t you hear that just now? It made a noise!”

“It did?” Bertolt and Reiner asked in unison.

Eren paused for a moment and sighed. “This isn’t some kind of prank, right?” The chances of them messing with him were high, but the concerned looks on their faces appeared genuine.

When both giants shook their heads, Eren exhaled sharply and began walking to his garage.

“This thing is indestructible. I’m gonna go grab my dad’s chainsaw.”

Bertolt and Reiner nearly choked at his suggestion.

“You can’t be serious!” They cried out in sheer defeat.

“What choice do we have?!”

Just when all hope seemed lost, the box rumbled and jumbled around, like a volcano about to erupt.

Though the boys had no way of knowing what was happening, it wouldn’t be long before all their worries could be cast aside. Thankfully.

Annie, by the grace of gods above, hadn’t been harmed by the barbaric acts of her friends in their attempts at freeing her. She had been placed in the box with loads of bubblewrap and crinkle-cut paper as a means of cushioning her inside.

As a fall back plan, she had brought a special ring gifted to her from her father; a ring with a small sharp folding blade sheathed within.

Using the blade, she began methodically tearing away, finally managing to free herself after a few swipes.

Annie burst out of the box and stood up victoriously. After briefly dusting her knees, she reached for the bag of gumballs at her feet and made her way over to where Eren was standing.

All three boys were at a loss for words, watching her as though she had just risen from the grave.

“Here.” She handed Eren the gumballs nonchalantly, like the last few minutes never happened. “Open it.”

“Annie…” Eren couldn’t formulate a proper sentence, voice emptily trailing off.

Bertolt suddenly lost consciousness and fainted, to which Reiner gathered him in his arms to catch his fall. He fanned away at Bertolt, casually offering words of encouragement while trying not to laugh.

“Calm down,” he sighed. “Everything turned out all right.”

In another setting, Eren had hurriedly opened the bag of gumballs and fished out a small note inside.

The note read; I finally have the balls to ask you to Sadies.

Awh! Such neat hand-writing, too!

Eren smiled and looked back at Annie, pulling her in for a hug.

“Took you long enough,” he said, squeezing her tight.

Annie smirked, completely satisfied.

Although her plan hadn’t quite worked out the way she had intended, it was certainly one for the books.

Who else could say their date was about to use a chainsaw to free them from being stuffed inside a box?

Suffice to say, she definitely outshined all her friends- and even managed to surprise herself.