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with-love-from-hell · 2 years

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Vermillion Skies

{part Fifteen}

Fandom: Obey me!

Genre: hurt, comfort, angst, some fluff

Pairing: Mc x Lucifer (pre-established relationship)

Written for F!MC

WC: ~4k

Music Accompaniment

TRIGGER WARNING FOR ALL PARTS: graphic depictions of sexual assault / rape, gore, and violence.

CW: catatonia, PTSD, dissociation, panic attacks, anxiety, swearing, blood/gore, fighting, spoilers for lessons 16+, negative self-talk, self-blame, intense flashbacks and graphic depictions of past sexual violence, violent outburst as a result of a flashback, paranoia, hallucinations / delusions

>> Though I have a Masters Degree in Psychology, I am not your therapist. If you have experienced any form of sexual abuse, assault, or harassment and are in need of help, please utilize the RAINN sexual assault hotline or online chat service, or find additional help using the NSVRC website. <<

You can find any future parts by searching the tag #vermillion skies on my blog!

Yes, I did bring the HC that demons purr into this fic, and I have no regrets. Also for those of you that have submitted requests- im going to try to get through one per week if possible! I'm closing requests for now until I get through the new 10 or so that I have.

Read part 14 here

Read the headcannon post for parts 1-9 here!

"Mammon...Let him go.”

Mammon stared at you, wide eyed and mouth agape. “Mc, are ya fucking insane?!”

You dropped your gaze back down to Lucifer, who’s snarls continued to result in his fangs scraping against the wooden floor. Your voice was quiet, subdued only by the dull ache you felt in your heart while looking at him. “Restraining him isn’t helping.”

“Did ya even see Levi?!” Mammon scoffed, digging his knee back into Lucifer’s wound to get him to still his movements. He couldn’t believe you were asking him to let him free after the danger he posed. “He could’ve killed him!”

You wince in response, but say nothing.

“You don’t understand what he’s capable of like this.” Mammon twitched his nose in irritation at you. Could you not see how aggressively Lucifer was jerking and the state of your room? He was infuriated by the fact that you would be willing to put yourself in harms way just because seeing Lucifer restrained made you feel bad. “What makes ya think that you’re so special that he wouldn’t try to hurt ya?!”

You snapped your eyes back up to lock onto Mammon’s. He noticed the deep hurt in your expression and felt a twinge of regret for his choice of words. He knew that you were special, but that’s all the more reason to keep you away from Lucifer. If Lucifer hurt you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself when he became lucid again.

“Mammon, I am not asking.” Your tone was soft and calm, but the words just barely passed through your gritted teeth. "Let him go. That is an order.”

Mammon's eyes widened as his pact mark on both your chests began emitting a honey-colored light. His body felt numb, static running through his veins as he involuntarily dropped Lucifer's wrists and stood up from his position on his back. Mammon tried to fight back against the power of the pact- one you would so rarely use against him- but to no avail.

“Mc- don’t!” Mammon pleaded with you with his eyes. His mind raced in panic as he backed away from Lucifer until he was pressed against the wall. If Lucifer lashed out at you, he was now rendered immobile until you withdrew your command.

You sucked in a breath and straightened your posture. You couldn't ignore the fact that you were afraid. You had seen the blood trailing the hall as you approached your room where Lucifer’s screams in pain were heard. Levi was his brother after all- and despite your deep bond with the eldest brother, you felt a tiny part of the back of your head screaming at you to get away from him. The larger, more dominant part however, urged you to press onward, reassuring you that Lucifer will not hurt you.

You were also quite a bit anxious that you were back in your old room. The memories of what happened here lurked like a misty shadow stalking the back of your mind, but you did your best to shove the feelings down and focus on Lucifer. He needed you, and you knew that after all he had done for you, it was time for you to return the nurturance.

"Thank you, Mammon.” You nodded in his direction before taking a step forward. “Now stay there."

Terror filled his heart as Mammon watched you slowly move forward toward the eldest brother, who was trying desperately to get up off the floor. He didn’t want to watch Lucifer tear you to shreds. The way the fury was glowing behind his intense vermillion eyes told him that he was nowhere near lucid.

Once only about a foot away from him did you halt your movements. You slowly lower yourself to the floor, kneeling before your lover. His fangs glistened in the low light of the room and raven feathers danced around you as he desperately moved his wings in tandem with his other limbs- trying to move his body closer to you. It was apparent that the injury to his abdomen and his arm prevented him from getting up.

"Luci..." You coo to him softly.

At the sound of the sweet pet name rolling off your lips, Lucifer's eyes met yours. The intensity of the light behind his irises softened, dulling his eyes back to the greyish tint they normally had. His wings slowly stilled, the loose feathers finally ceasing their chaotic dance around you. Lucifer reached his uninjured arm forward in desperation; his claws digging into the floor as he realized he couldn't quite reach you.

You extend out your hand toward him, earing a small gasp from Mammon. You briefly snap your gaze up to him and let out a soft "shh" before returning your focus to Lucifer. Mammon’s interventions would surely provoke the now calmed first born, and you wanted to prevent another outburst. You intended on treating Lucifer like you would a frightened dog who was wary of touch. Your movements were slow, non-threatening, and discrete- allowing room to pull back if there was any sense he would lash out.

Mammon's heart beat wildly as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. What if he hit you...or...worse? The urge to protect you grew stronger as you reached your hand out to touch Lucifer's head- and the intense fear spiked along with it. He tried to get out a warning, a request for you to get back, but even the simple hush was enough to glue his lips shut with the power of the pact you had evoked.

You slow movements finally halt when your fingers graze one of Lucifer's horns. You linger there for a moment, noticing how Lucifer had become frozen under your touch. You let out a sigh of relief, running your fingers down his horn to their base at his scalp. A deep hum reverberated from Lucifer’s throat at the gentle movement. You sift your fingers through his dark locks, giving an occasional, gentle scratch to his scalp. As you continue the gentle movements, you feel his body relax and he leans into your touch.

"Luci, it’s okay." You coo again, a small smile decorating your face as you pluck a feather from his hair. "I'm here."

Before you could react, Lucifer's claws gripped the floor and he lurched himself forward. You gasped, anxiety spiking as he gripped your body. His injured arm wrapped tightly around your midsection, pulling you against him. Once he was in a stable upright position, his other arm wrapped you tighter as he pulled your lower body in between his knees, trying to press your body as close to him as he could.

You sat still for a moment; heart racing and breath rapid as the fear of him attacking you slowly fades away from the front of your mind. Lucifer’s sudden movement had caught you completely off guard. But as you felt the tingle of hot tears dripping onto your shoulder, your anxiety dissipated completely.

You sigh, returning the embrace. One of your hands make their way up Lucifer’s back, drawing circles with your fingers around the base of Lucifer's wings, as the other caresses the back of his head. He shudders, small sobs escaping his throat as he squeezes you tightly against him. You felt his fingers grip into the soft flesh of your hips- his claws now retracted so as not to hurt you. The low light of the room was made even more dim as his onyx wings enveloped you in their warmth. You melted into his chest as you felt the low hum from his throat grow slightly louder- occasionally interrupted by a shuddered breath or a whimper.

“Shh, It’s alright. We’re safe.” You murmur, rubbing slow circles around the middle of his back. He nuzzles into your collar, and you feel tears roll down your chest.

Mammon stared at the sight in front of him. He almost lost it when Lucifer grabbed you, though he was relieved it was only for a hug. He swore internally that one of these days, your boldness would land you in a situation you surely would regret. But for now, he was put at ease to see Lucifer’s behavior returning to normal.

Mammon felt the heat of his pact mark slowly fizzle out as you lock eyes with him. You signal with your eyes for him to make his exit, but Mammon hesitates. Though he can see Lucifer now is no threat to you, he does not yet feel comfortable leaving you alone. With a widened expression and the raise of your eyebrows, Mammon sighs, slowly exiting the room and closing the door on his way out. Just as he was shutting the door, he heard someone call out to him from further down the fall.

“Mammon? What’s going on?!” Beelzebub ran toward him. His eyes were wide with panic, and his large hands that were stained with blood trembled slightly.

Mammon sighed, meeting him a few feet from the door and holding up a hand to his chest to stop him. “’s alright now. Mc is handlin’ it.”

“What?!” Beel’s eyes widened further as he attempted to push past the second oldest.

“Beel,” Mammon snapped, gripping his arm and yanking him backward. “It’ll be fine. He’s calmed down now. She’s got it.”

Beelzebub looked at Mammon with uncertainty before giving a resided sigh, following Mammon’s gesture to move a distance away from the door. Though Mammon ensured they were still in earshot in case something were to happen and you needed help.

Mammon sighed, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down until he was seated. He combed his fingers through his snowy locks, hoping desperately that you would be okay alone with Lucifer. Mammon wouldn’t be able to bear it if you got hurt again- especially if it were at the hands of someone who promised to keep you safe.

Beel watched his behavior closely, trying to piece together what exactly had happened. When Levi had burst into the kitchen, he was a bloody, stuttering mess. It took so long for he and Belphie to even coax out the word “Lucifer,” though Beel figured that the eldest brother was the culprit from the raven feathers that were stuck in various spots of Levi’s hair and sweater hood. Belphie agreed to care for Levi and get Satan’s help when he returned from the store while Beel went to investigate, but even now Beel couldn’t comprehend what caused Lucifer to slash the 3rd oldest’s face.

With a sigh, Beel joined Mammon on the floor. “What’s going on?”

Mammon turned his gaze toward the door to your room. “Lucifer...he...well- I don’t actually know.”

Beel narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What?”

Mammon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look- I don’t know what happened, Beel. All I know is I got there after hearin’ some yellin’, Levi was bein’ attacked by Lucifer, and I pulled ‘em off.”

Beel was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. “So...you don’t know why he attacked him?”

Mammon shook his head, briefly locking eyes with his younger brother before turning his gaze to the floor. “I think...I think he was hallucinating.”

Suddenly, a wail was heard from the direction of your room. In an instant, both Beelzebub and Mammon were on their feet ready to protect you. But the second wail to follow calmed their nerves after realizing the sound was from Lucifer...not you. They both shared a sigh of relief before locking eyes.

“Mammon...should we call Diavolo?” Beel fidgeted with his fingers nervously.

Mammon chewed the inside of his cheek, considering Beel’s question. Diavolo may not be the best person to call given what had just transpired. After all, Mammon wouldn’t want Lucifer to be locked in the castle dungeons again- alone this time. Barbatos maybe would be helpful, but that would also require Diavolo being informed. Simeon knew healing spells, so he might be helpful...but in the grand scheme of things, Mammon knew there was only one person who would have the knowledge necessary to remedy the situation.

With a resided sigh, he finally spoke. “I...I think we need to call Solomon.”

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

“Lucifer, Would ya just calm your ass down?!”

Mammon’s voice just barely penetrated the sickening sounds of your screams mixing with the demon’s laughter that reverberated loudly through Lucifer’s skull. Mammon tried his best to keep him held down, but Lucifer couldn’t rest until he was sure that demon was dead once again. He needed to get to you- to stop the abuse he was certain was happening again. Lucifer growled intensely, resulting in his fangs dragging across the floor. A sharp pain shot up his jaw as his teeth scraped up the wood, but he tried to ignore it. He jerked his body as hard as he could, given the injuries he was now blatantly aware of. He beat his wings against Mammon as he thrashed, trying desperately to buck him off.

“Lucifer! For fucks sake!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up his ribcage and spread all over his body. Lucifer screamed out in pain, his movements faltering as he tried to regain his focus on escaping Mammon’s hold. Tears pushed their way out his eyes, the searing agony of the wooden shards being pushed deeper into his abdomen nearly blinding him. More muffled words were said by Mammon, but Lucifer couldn’t quite make them out.

As his vision refocused, a he glanced up and saw a familiar set of legs standing before him. He jerked his head up to confirm what he was seeing, and sure enough, there you stood before him. Lucifer’s heart nearly stopped- he couldn’t believe you were...you. Were you hurt? how did you escape the hands of the demon who he was so sure had hurt you? As his eyes moved in and out of focus, he saw your silhouette shift along with it. One moment, he saw you unscathed, dressed in the clean silken pajama set that you had been wearing earlier. But the next, your form changed to one that was littered in bites and bruises, blood seeping from between your legs, silk torn and hanging from various parts of your body. Lucifer couldn’t trust either sight, and chose to assume the latter was the truth.

He jerked his upper body back, nearly knocking Mammon off of him, but the 2nd oldest regained control rather quickly. Lucifer watched as you moved forward. He met your gaze, pleading with you to give him a sign you were okay- that you hadn’t just been brutally abused like he was surely convinced of. A look of sorrow passed by your eyes as the dim light of the room flickered.

Your eyes left his for a brief moment to look up to the individual who had him subdued- the individual he now knew was Mammon. “Mammon, Let him go.”

“Mc, are ya fucking insane?!” Lucifer snarled in response to Mammon’s words, his teeth once again digging into the floor. He continued wrestling with him, trying desperately to free himself so he can assess you for injuries and hold you in his arms.

I need to make sure she’s okay.

“Restraining him isn’t helping.” Lucifer felt the hurt in your tone in his heart. You needed him, and Mammon was preventing that. He jerked again, feeling Mammon’s knee jam back into his abdomen, causing another pained wail to escape his throat.

“Did ya even see Levi?! He could’ve killed him!”

...Levi? Did the demon go after his brother too??

“You don’t understand what he’s capable of like this. What makes ya think that you’re so special that he wouldn’t try to hurt ya?!”

Lucifer gritted his teeth as his head pounded, the confusion, the fear, and the anger he felt producing an awful migraine. What was he talking about?

“Mammon, I am not asking. Let him go. That is an order.”

Lucifer felt Mammon’s legs tremble around his abdomen, and suddenly release their grip. He felt the 2nd oldest move off of him, and heard his sudden sporadic foot-falls as he backed against the wall behind him. He was shocked you had been so brazen in your use of the pact magic, but clearly you did it because you needed him.

Lucifer snapped himself out of his thoughts and returned his focus to you. As he tried to raise off of the floor, his arm gave out beneath him. He felt the muscle treads tear beneath his skin, and he gritted his teeth to subdue more wails at the agonizing pain he was feeling. He continued thrashing, trying to move himself in other ways. Words were exchanged between you and Mammon, but he couldn’t focus enough to hear them.

I need to keep her safe. I have to get to her. I have to focus.

"Luci..."

Lucifer's eyes widened at the saccharine sound of your voice. He snapped his eyes up to meet yours. Your irises shook slightly, indicating your fear. Surely this means she’s been through immense torture, his thoughts continued asserting the worst. His movements stilled, loose feathers from his wings raining down gently around your silhouette. Lucifer reached his hand forward, claws digging into in the floor desperation.

I...I can’t reach her...

Lucifer felt tears sting his eyes at the realization that you were just barely out of reach. He dropped his head to the floor, a hiss escaping through his gritted teeth at how weak he was. His anger and fear festered, threatening to burst until...

Lucifer let out a barely audible gasp as he felt your fingers brush his horns. He froze, thinking he had imagined it for a moment. But then he felt your pads trace down the twists until reaching his scalp. Lucifer felt his heartbeat slow as your fingers sift through his hair. He felt his chest vibrate slightly, producing a pleased purr from deep inside his vocal cords. He nuzzles into your hand, desperate for more of the calming touch.

"Luci, it’s okay....I'm here." your soft voice melted like butter in his ears. The sound was enough to motivate him to try to reach you one last time.

with a sharp inhale, he gripped the floor in his claws and pulled his body forward with all the strength he had left. Lucifer pulled you into his arms, holding you flush against his body. He felt the rapid beating of your heart from the pulse point in your neck that his lips were barely grazing.

She’s alive...She’s safe...

Suddenly, tears dripped from Lucifer’s eyes. They rolled off his cheek and plopped on your shoulders. He squeezes you tighter as you return his embrace, shuddering sobs escaping his throat as you rub his back gently. He felt so much pain, so much fear, and so much relief all at once, that it was completely over whelming. He attempted to curtain you both with his wings, trying to make it feel as if you were the only two individuals in the universe in this moment. he pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, finding further relief in how real your body felt under his touch.

“Shh, It’s alright. We’re safe.”

Lucifer sighs, nuzzling further into your neck as more tears burst from his eyes.

He couldn’t quite tell when Mammon had left the room. He was too captivated by your soothing voice and the gentle brush of your fingers against the base of his wings and the nape of his neck. Lucifer felt as if he had been locked in the embrace for hours... and yet he also felt as if it had only been mere seconds as you were trying to pull away.

Lucifer gripped you tighter as panic over took him once more. He couldn't let you go. What if you got hurt again? He would never be able to live calmly until he knew for sure the demon was nowhere to be found in the House. He would overturn every piece of furniture and search every crevasse if it meant keeping you safe.

"Lucifer..." your tranquil voice pulled him back from his thoughts. "Its okay. I'm not going anywhere. Let go."

Lucifer sucked in a breath, his grip unwavering from your hips. He couldn't do it.

You sigh, trailing a finger across his back. "Please, let go."

Lucifer felt his pact mark flicker slightly and his arms released their grip against his best efforts to try to resist. You pulled back from him slightly, though remained close enough to feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on against your face as his breaths became rapid and deep.

You cup his face in your hands, brushing away the tears still falling delicately with your thumbs. Lucifer stares deeply into your eyes, finding a sense of relief in the nurturing way you were looking at him.

"Lu...what happened?" You inquire gently, careful not to make any assumptions on his level of lucidity.

He sighs, dropping his eyes from yours for a moment. "The demon...he was here."

Your body tenses, and Lucifer takes immediate notice. He grips your waist with his uninjured arm in an attempt to pull you against him once more, but you stop him.

"H-he...he..." Lucifer stuttered, trying to find the words to explain what he had seen. He assumed that your inquiry into what had transpired meant that the demon hadn't actually hurt you, and his vision began to consistently show how you truly were dressed- mostly clean in your black silken pajamas, with the exception of the stains from the blood on Lucifer's hands and his tears.

You brush your thumb against his cheek bone, giving him a small nod. "Its okay...take your time."

Lucifer sighed, taking a few deep breaths before speaking. "He threatened to hurt you again. And I...I couldn't let him do that. I tried to kill him again- to make sure he was dead...but Mammon stopped me." He paused, swallowing hard before his intense orbs locked onto yours. "I thought he had hurt you again."

Your eyes soften and you hum in response to his statements. Lucifer's lip trembled slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Lucifer..." you sigh, your grip on his face tightening as you brought his forehead down to meet yours. "That wasn't real."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at you. "W-what?"

You pulled away slightly, firmly locking onto his gaze. "That wasn't real. Im not sure what happened to you, but that wasn't real. The demon that you thought you saw...that was Levi."

Lucifer's breathing rate increased as panic began to seep into his chest he heaved slightly as he shook his head, jerking away from your touch. A small whimper escaped his throat before he spoke. "No...No- that cant be...he was here. Mc, I saw him!"

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to think of a way to convince him. When you open your eyes, you see Lucifer staring at his hands, which were trembling violently. You gasp and place his hands in yours, gripping them tightly in an attempt to provide him some reassurance.

"I...I hurt him." Lucifer stared at you blankly.

"What?" You blinked, trying to understand what he was saying

Lucifer looked up at you, his eyes showing intense fear. The real images from his hallucinations fading into the forefront of his mind. He saw Levi, pinned below him with a deep, bloody gash on his face. His expression was terrified, and he babbled desperately for Lucifer to snap out of his delusional state.

"Levi...I..I could've killed him" at the acknowledgement at what he'd actually done, Lucifer completely broke down in tears, pained wails escaping his throat.

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Part 16

Tags for those who requested: @kairikazu05 @siniy606 @yukariutena @raeraekubs @hobin-gnoblin @shawnmendeslmfao @hatsunemiku2025 @katesatterfield @sg-artem @theeonlyroman @luvlyash @wonder-alien @ryuksexlover @svnflowery @saharahsbliss

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rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

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A few weeks ago I wrote slutty, slutty Kent x Button fic and then didn’t post it-- but now I’m gonna and reveal myself as a thirsty ho.

title: reciprocity rated: explicit fandom/pairing: Mind Blind (IF) Kent Zarneki x f!Button Wiseman summary: One photo leads to another leads to another... Button could open a gallery with the sheer volume of nudes she possesses of one Kent Zarneki.

It had started innocently enough. At least, that was the lie I was telling myself because in all honesty, what was innocent about sending your boyfriend a selfie— when that selfie was really just a strategically cut close up of the new strappy bralette you’d bought, peaking out from the unbuttoned V of your Aeon uniform top? Nothing. Absolutely god damn nothing.

The text I sent: new! shockingly comfortable. didn’t want to rip it off as soon as I got home

Kent’s message bubbles were silent, but the “read” notification had gone off. I grinned slyly to myself, getting comfortable back up against my bed pillows. Kent blushed so infrequently, I had made a game of it as much as Glitch, though I had had unprecedented success. Glitch had given me a withering look at the boast.

I mean. It was obvious why I did.

My phone dinged, the notification image showing that in lieu of a text, Kent had sent an image of his own. I clicked the tiny preview and was awarded with a picture much like my own, Kent’s tie loose around his neck, the buttons of his shirt undone to show the pale expanse of skin beneath. I could just barely see the line of his jaw, the smirk ticking up the corner of his lips.

I responded by undoing my own shirt down to my waist, pushing the fabric down around my shoulders and using my arms to help my cleavage look fuller. This was dangerous. Very dangerous, but I shook my head to let my hair cascade down across me, took a few shots and sent the best one.

Are you in bed?

Kent’s reply. Followed shortly by another photo. He had put aside ceremony and fully removed his shirt, revealing he was in bed himself. The dark sheets contrasted against him. All that Aeon training had sculpted and carved him into a lean, but strong figure. He was not bulky, like Grayson, cut more narrowly at his waist which gave his shoulders an even fuller illusion of broadness that made my hands ache to run over them.

Kent Zarneki, in short, was too fucking hot for his own good.

I am

Im taking my clothes off

I assume that is what we are doing?

I sent the three texts in quick succession. The message bubbles in reply were brief.

yes

The image that followed was enough to send a hot pang right down into my stomach. He’d unbuttoned his trousers, using the thumb of his free hand to hold down the band far enough I could see the line of his pelvis and the dark hair that dusted across.

If you want to

I want to

I took off my shirt, throwing it aside without care. I had chosen to wear a high-waisted black skirt that day, which was all the better. I very carefully slid my hand up the cup of my bralette, letting the fabric rise up to show the under curve of my breast, appearing fuller when pressed up into my palm.

I sent it and in a second got a reply.

Off

I smirked. Kent had already been naked from the waist up for some time now. I received a sequence of three images, all of which where very flattering shots of Kent’s own torso and abs.

Seems only fair

I pulled the lacy fabric up and over my head as easily as my shirt, looking down at my own pale breasts, my nipples already hardened in the cool air and in anticipation. Shyness fell over me like a cold shower. Kent had never seen me naked before. What if I was too small? What if I was too big? Was my right breast always that much different from my left? Anxiety panged in my stomach as intense as arousal and despite my delay, Kent’s messages remained silent.

Patient. Waiting.

I could cheat. Brushing my hair over my shoulders, the strands lay perfectly over the tops of my breasts, hiding them from clear view, but not as much as my bralette did. I let the photo catch just the bottom half of my face, my tongue stuck out to the side. Teasing. Taunting. Like it was on purpose, not because I was nervous.

Kent didn’t respond for several minutes. The next image, I felt my mouth go dry. I could very clearly see the outline of his erection, pressing against the groin of his pants and going down the leg.

He wasn’t wearing boxers. Of course he wasn’t. This was Kent Zarneki, a man who was one bad day away from leaving everything and joining a nudist colony.

Is this okay?

It was more than okay. It was super okay. It was, please-send-me-more-now okay.

I relayed as much through the text message and got a photo that sent my heart racing. It was just him. His cheeks flushed, his gray eyes dark and storming, a smug smile half formed on his lips. His dark hair was messy and I nearly groaned with frustration at how badly I wanted to run my fingers through it, tug on it, pull that smirk against my own and kiss it off his face.

The next photo I sent him I hid nothing, cupping my breast in my hand and making as if I was drawing my thumb over my nipple. I showed my face, trying my best to look as effortlessly sexy as him— though no matter what I did, my smile was always more playful than sultry. My cheeks flushed with more than just wanting.

Cute

High praise

I replied, trying to remind myself his short responses were normal and not to read into it.

You want praise?

You’re driving me crazy

His words hit me like a sucker punch. His next photo is the second one I didn’t see coming.

No man this gorgeous should ever be blessed in such a way. There were really no words other than “pretty” to describe the flushed skin of his length, not overly long, but definitely blessed where it counted. Or at least where I had heard it counted. It’s all about the girth. My mind supplied in its best Cosmo magazine voice.

The tip was, in all honesty, a very pretty shade of darkened pink, and curved with a sort of perfection that should have been reserved to— I don’t know. Porn stars? Dick models? Do dick models exist? Hand models sure do, and the way his hand was wrapped around himself was enough to make me think he could easily be one of those too.

Cute

I snap back and I can practically hear him laugh in my mind.

High praise

More?

Is that an offer or a request?

Both

How could I say no? I definitely didn’t want to. I found the zipper at the top of my skirt and slid it down. I was left in just my panties and hose. I rolled the hose down low on my thighs, sitting up on my knees to take a photo. Hesitating for just a moment, I flicked the camera over to video and let my hand run down over my thigh and then across my hips. I drew my finger over my center, my breath hitching and my hips moving forward as I rolled against my own touch.

I sent it.

And after a moment I got a video in turn. I watched Kent’s hand glide up over his length in slow, languid motions, pausing to rub his palm against the tip of his head. Teasing himself with the lightest touch. His cock flexed and jumped, a tiny gruff sound escaping his lips and reminding me that even though I couldn’t see his face this was Kent. My Kent.

I nearly dropped my cellphone as it began to vibrate, an incoming call displaying on the screen. I laid back, pushing my hose off the rest of the way as I answered. The line was silent before I finally broke it with a breathy- “hey.”

“Are you naked?” Kent’s voice was low, strained, but somehow eager.

I took a quick moment to slide my panties off, kicking them away.

“Now I am.”

Kent took in a deep breath. I let my hand trail between my legs, touching myself in the familiar way I did when I was alone. I traced my index and middle finger up my labia, spreading the soft warm skin, dipping my fingers into the center where I was slick and hot.

“I’m touching myself.” I said, my voice a broken whisper. Kent made a gruff sound of acknowledgement.

“Kent...” I said, “You made me so wet.”

He moaned.

“Is that okay?” I said, teasing him. I appreciated his caution, his check ins, making sure I was enjoying myself.

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay. Tell me.”

“Wow. Six whole words? Be careful, you’ll make me come.”

“That’s the idea.” Kent said, a breathless laugh filtering through his words.

“What about you? Having fun yet, Zarneki?”

Kent made a sound and I heard the rustling of sheets and the faint click of the phone camera shutter. My phone chimed, an image appearing of the head of his cock, wet with pre-cum he was smearing around the tip.

My tongue slid out against my bottom lip.

“Kent, don’t take this the wrong way— but you have such a pretty penis.”

He snorted.

“I’m serious. I want to put it in my mouth, which is not something I thought I’d ever say to any guy. But like? It just looks so appealing.”

“You’re killing me.” Kent said, a groan that sounded almost exasperated coming from his throat. It was hard to tell.

“With my witty charm or because I put a very naughty image in your head?”

I slipped two fingers into my mouth, pursed my lips, made a show of how wet and soft they looked and sent it to Kent.

“Shit—“

I felt a burst of pride at his expletive and found my clit with my fingertips, circling in a quicker pace.

“I like listening to you.” I said, thoughtless. I sighed, feeling my whole body warming, “Wish it was closer.”

“...I’m just down the street.” Kent said, trying to play it off like it was a fact and not a very tempting invitation.

“But this is fun. And naughty. And I get a keepsake.”

I heard the question in his voice, almost masked by a small groan. I wondered what his hands were up to.

“The photos. Speaking of which... I wouldn’t mind an after shot.”

“After?”

“After I make you come all over yourself, Zarneki.”

I heard his breath hitch.

“Only if I get one too.”

“You got it.”

Talking became a non-priority then. The only thing I strained to hear was his breaths, his soft moans, the faint wet sound I sometime thought I heard over the receive— or maybe that was me. I felt flooded, with heat and wanting and need. I pressed harder, worked my palm flat against my clit and stroked my fingers inside, imaging how much further Kent’s slender fingers could reach. Imaging his tongue. That pretty cock.

“Kent.” I whimpered, the involuntary clutch of my walls around my fingers my bodies way of telling me it wanted all of that and more.

“Good?” Kent murmured, a faint reply.

“Yes— I... I just keep imaging if it were you.” I don’t need to explain. I can tell by the way his breathing has fallen into faint rhythmic pants that he got my full meaning and he liked it.

“...me too. I want... I want you.” Kent paused, his next words coming out with earnest sweetness, “I’ll wait as long as you need... but I’m ready. I want it. This. With you.”

Whatever I was thinking, whatever I wanted to say fuzzed out around the edges as a prickling sensation spread out from where my fingers were rolling and pressing in tandem. I coaxed my climax out, the peak hanging on the edge for a wonderful few tense moments before it fell. I whimpered, the sound coming out louder than I intended.

I heard Kent swear, or say my name or some combination of the two and then his voice pitched up for just a moment, a gasping moan aching from his throat.

I was hot, messy and completely boneless, laying back on my bed and feeling like I could fall asleep right then and there.

But I owed Kent a picture.

I spread myself open, the puffiness, the redness and slickness hopefully all the evidence he needed to see I had most definitely orgasmed. The moment I opened the chat to send it I received his in turn. His cock lolled back against his stomach, a line of cum connecting to the opaque white puddle settled there. There were drops across his chest and a few splatter across his hand.

My walls clutched hard as I thought what it would feel like to lick him clean.

I sent my own photo, the two of us quiet now, content with just listening to the sound of the other breathing through the phone speaker.

“So. Shower photo shoot next?” I said, unable to hide a nervous giggle.

“Give me just a second to get a towel.”

I had been kidding, but the eagerness in Kent’s voice was enough to make me decide to not correct him.

#mind blind cog #mind blind #kent zarneki x button #kent x button #kent x f!button #mb fanfic #mind blind fanfic #IM SORRY PLEASE DONT READ MY GARBAGE I AM A SLUTTY SLUTTY PERSON #AND MY BUTTON IS VERY THIRSTY I DONT MAKE THE RULES #EXCEPT I DO #i can not believe i am tagging something 'lemon' in this day of our lord 2021 #but ya #lemon

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ardett · 3 years

Text

all dead hearts to you

Description: George and Dream have never met in person. It isn’t a problem until Dream calls George to tell him he’s going to kill himself.

check this out on Ao3 if you wanna be cool!

Author’s Note: Not me crashing recklessly into another fandom (also this is assuming sapnap went home to Texas after living with dream idk let me live)

title from Dead Hearts by Stars

also I'm new here, anyone wanna give me a welcome to the boys?

warnings: suicide warning (obviously) but no actual suicide, general anxiety and panic attacks

It’s 3am when George gets Dream’s call.

Late, but only really for him. It’s still before midnight in Florida, right around 10pm. He’d like to say that he’s so practiced with converting time zones that he doesn’t even have to think about it but he still has to count backwards on his fingers, thinking on the jump between late late nights and early mornings.

He’s still awake but the leds in his room have been turned to red, set to the dimmest mode. He was streaming with Quackity up until about half an hour ago and his room has settled back into quiet again.

He feels the thrum of anxiety as he hears the ringtone. Dream usually only calls him when George is about to sleep through something important or if he’s on the road. George wonders if he forgot something today or maybe he let something slip on his call with Quackity.

Now that it’s on his mind, he realizes that he hasn’t heard from Dream all day. Or yesterday?

They’ve both been busy, though George has been busy with the usual things and Dream said something about needing to put his affairs in order or whatever that meant. They usually text at least but even that has been quieter.

George grabs his phone off his desk and picks up the call.

“Dream. What’s up?” he asks. George runs a quick hand through his hair, checking his screen quickly. It’s a real phone call, not even a discord call. “Hey, I’m putting you on speaker. I’m gonna put on my pajamas.”

He’s about to set the phone on his dresser when Dream says, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be on speaker.”

There’s something off in his tone. Something flat. It sets George’s nerves on edge.

“Yeah? Okay.” George tucks the phone back by his ear, slumping back on his bed. “Did you have something you had to tell me?”

“Yeah. George, I’m going to kill myself.”

Everything in George stills.

And then starts to spin.

“What?”

“I’m going to—”

“You’re not serious.” George jerks upright, ignoring the lightheaded feeling sinking its fingers into his skull. “Dream, this isn’t funny.”

“I don’t think it is. It’s just going to happen.”

There’s not even a tremor in Dream’s voice. George can’t feel anything past the bone deep shock in his system.

All he can think of is Dream, wrists bloody and split open. Dream, fingertips dusted white with the residue of unnamed pills. Dream, rope burns fracturing the long line of his neck.

Dream, dead.

How is he even going to do it? Is he actually going to do it? George wants to ask but then he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

He imagines the first time he sees Dream in person is when he attends his funeral.

He imagines all the words he’s held in for so long, waiting and waiting for the moment he could say them to Dream face to face, finally being said to dead air.

But George can’t say that so all he manages is an obstinate, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop disagreeing with me.”

“George,” Dream laughs. Laughs.

George feels dizzy with the disbelief swirling inside him. Surely this can’t be happening. What reason would Dream have to make this up though? Dream would never joke about something like this. Why is he laughing?

How can Dream be so casual when George’s world is shattering?

He doesn’t know what a future without Dream looks like.

They’ve always lived miles apart but Dream has never felt so far away. George has never felt like this. Like he couldn’t reach him.

“Dream.” Dream’s laugh cuts off as soon as he hears the plea in George’s voice. “Is something wrong? Are you— I can come there. I can be with you tomorrow. Sapnap can stay with you again. You don’t have to do this—”

“I know. But I want to. So I’m going to.” Any trace of mirth is gone. Dream sounds the same way he did when he decided he was going to break a world record or make YouTube work for him.

Determined. Steadfast. His voice has the steely confidence of knowing he won’t fail.

Usually it’s inspiring but now the familiarity of it just makes George sick. He’s never known Dream to be someone content with failure.

George's phone digs into his palm as his grip spasms. He tastes blood.

And he doesn’t even know why yet.

“What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dream sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, George.”

“There has to be something wrong. You can tell me,” George insists. Then he changes tactics and lies through his teeth. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else. We can work this out together, just the two of us. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you nothing’s wrong,” Dream repeats.

“Then why would you… do that?” George trips over the word, rephrases it instead.

And then Dream rips that tiny defense to shreds.

“You can say it you know,” Dream says. “I’m going to kill myself. You should probably get used to it actually. People are going to ask you about it. I’m sorry about that,” he adds as an afterthought.

The harsh, blunt words sting against George’s skin.

“Don’t apologize,” he strangles out. “Don’t apologize for that out of everything. Just don’t do it.”

“George,” Dream breathes, exasperated.

“I just don’t understand,” George begs. For the first time, his voice wavers.

Dream, cold gun in his cold hands. Dream, long limbs hanging over the railing of a bridge as he stares down. Dream, slumped over his table with a bottle of vodka nestled near his feet.

Dream, dead.

Dead.

“Don’t cry, okay?” Dream’s voice softens. George forgot how gentle Dream could be with him when he wanted.

“I didn’t want to make you cry. Look, it’s just…” Dream trails off. Eventually, he continues even quieter. “This is it, you know? This is the top, this is the peak. It can’t go on like this forever, crazy numbers on videos and trending on twitter and all that shit. I’d rather go out like this than wait to hit the bottom. Doesn’t that make sense?” Dream persuades.

“No,” George insists, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Come on, George. Can you even picture yourself growing old? What happens when we’re 30, 40, and all of this is gone. Do you want that?”

The sick part of it all is that George has imagined the future. He imagines it lovingly, not viciously. Not like this.

He imagined a future with Sapnap and Bad and Karl and Quackity but most of all with Dream. He wants so badly to be with him. Sapnap talked about living together, how great parts of it had been, how he would have stayed if he hadn’t had to return home for family, and George so selfishly wants that for himself.

And he’s always known that’s not what Dream pictured. Dream doesn’t want what he wants. Dream doesn’t want to grow old with someone, much less George.

Can you even picture yourself growing old?

It hurts because George can and he always wanted it to be with Dream.

“What are you even saying? Do you want me to kill myself too?” George bites. He scrubs viciously at his eyes and stabs at the power button of his computer, teeth piercing into his lip as he waits for it to turn on.

“No, no, of course not. I would never— Come on, that’s obviously not what I’m saying.”

George fumbles with his keyboard, pulling up his discord messages with Sapnap.

He just needs someone else to help him, someone else to know. Someone who can do what he can’t. Someone who isn’t as fucking helpless as him, who doesn’t live an ocean away and who has never seen Dream in person and has never touched Dream, not once, has never known what the sun feels like in Florida.

Of course he was lying when he said this was going to stay between the two of them.

This isn’t the kind of thing he can do alone.

George: Sapnap dream says hes going

George: to kill himself

George: you have to get someone to him

George: call 999

George: 911

Sapnap: what

George: please now sap Im on the phone with him

Sapnap: are you joking

George: no

George: do it

George: please fast now

“Are you typing?” Dream questions, a note of warning in his tone.

George jerks. “No, I—”

He’s cut off by a beeping from his phone.

His heart stops.

“What’s that sound?” Dream asks.

Sapnap is calling him.

George can picture him, knee jumping as he clutches his phone, hoping against hope that George is joking. He can practically hear the adrenaline trembling in Sapnap’s voice, can see the way Sapnap stands and paces.

He can’t answer though. He can’t leave Dream.

George declines the call, hand shaking.

“Who was that?” The question is flat.

“No one,” George says too quickly.

“No one?” Dream repeats. Only a second or two passes before George hears the same beep through his phone speaker, this time coming from Dream’s end. “Wow look who’s calling me. Sapnap. Wonder if he changed his name to No One,” Dream says without emotion.

Sapnap: fck are you serious

George bites his tongue, wincing.

“Dream—”

George: y

George can’t manage to type anything more before Dream snarls, “You’re such a fucking snitch, you know that? It’s fine though, I thought this might happen. I was gonna call him after you, for the record.” It almost sounds like Dream is smiling. George’s heart twists. Why is he smiling? “I know you have to try as a friend to save me, or whatever you want to call it, but you really don’t have to. I want to do this. I’m going to.

“It’s not like you could really stop me anyway,” Dream continues. “You don’t even know where I live. You barely know what I look like. What, are you going to ask the police to search the entire state of Florida?”

“Sapnap knows,” George whispers.

He tries to shake off the savagery seeping into Dream’s voice. He tells himself Dream is defensive, Dream is nervous, Dream is scared. Dream isn’t thinking about what he’s really saying.

Though things have never mattered before, the fact George has never been to Florida, that George has never seen Dream in person. But now Dream is weaponizing them against him, forcing George to acknowledge that for everything their relationship is, it can never replace an in person friendship. And Dream has always been a better fighter than George.

“No, he doesn’t. Me and Sap rented a house, remember? We never went to my house. I never sent him my actual address, I checked.” And Dream sounds so smug. Like he won.

George’s gaze darts back to his computer.

But he already knows Dream isn’t a liar.

Sapnap: I dont know his address

Sapnap: fuck

Sapnap: Im calling bad

Sapnap: dont let him hang up

“People are so dumb about it, you know? They tell all their friends and then they get caught before actually doing it,” Dream goes on, not paying attention to George’s disconsolate silence.

“But you’re telling me,” George mutters. Hopelessness strings through him.

Sapnap isn’t writing anything else. George can only hope Bad picked up.

“Yeah but you’re literally in another country. What are you going to do about it?”

George can’t manage any words. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to breathe.

Dream is right, he always seems to be right. George just wishes it wasn’t about this. Anything but this. He has to believe that Sapnap and Bad will figure something out. He has to trust them.

“Just think about how many people are found before they actually do it,” Dream goes on in George’s quiet. “Because they can’t commit. Most people are cowards. It’s dumb honestly. Just do it or don’t.”

“Don’t then,” George whispers.

His eyes burn with unshed tears. His fingers spasm on his bedsheets.

He doesn’t know what Dream wants. Does he want George to beg? To get on his knees and plead with him to save his own life? Because he would in a heartbeat but he doubts it would make a difference.

Dream sighs. “I feel like you’re not listening to me, George.”

“No, I am.” George’s voice rises with his wrath. Suddenly all his terror and frustration comes to a bursting point. “I’m listening. I’m listening to you talk about killing yourself. I just think you’re wrong. I think it would be a lot fucking braver to stay alive even if your views go down, even if you’re not fucking famous, Dream. What the fuck? You’re a fucking coward for trying to leave!” George’s breaths heave through the staticy phone microphone. His fear and anger wind him.

There’s a moment of emptiness.

Then, lip curling, Dream says, “Trying to leave you?”

George chokes.

“What?”

“Don’t try and pull this card, George. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? I’m a coward for leaving everyone behind? For leaving you?”

Dream’s voice drowns out George’s. George flinches, though Dream can’t see it.

“Don’t be so fucking selfish. I hate that, you know that?” Dream growls. “Everyone thinks they’re enough to save someone all by themselves. Wow, the sheer force of your love just fucking yanked me back from the edge of a cliff, give me a fucking break,” Dream scoffs. George’s ribs feel tight. “You can’t just reverse psychology or guilt me out of this.”

“Jesus, Dream, is it so hard to believe that maybe I care about you and I don’t want you to fucking die?” George grits out.

The room swims before him. He can’t remember how to uncurl his fingers.

“Well it’s not up to you, is it?” Dream practically smirks.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The winning phrase. Because Dream’s right.

It’s not up to George.

George can only listen helplessly as Dream considers his own grave. He’s a constant witness to the storm that is Dream. He was always grateful to be dragged along in Dream’s hurricane winds and now he dreads the day they calm.

“You’re being cruel,” George murmurs. His aggression leaves him as soon as it came.

“I’m being honest,” Dream contends.

George sinks his head into his hands. “Why did you even call me then? To— to gloat?”

Dream’s voice goes low and quiet, vulnerable. George’s insides twist and melt and contort. “No, no, I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you one more time.”

“Don’t say that,” George hisses. The words are half muffled into his palms.

“Don’t say what?” Dream asks defensively.

“Don’t say one more time. You can’t— you can’t—'' It all hits George at once. He’s going to lose him.

He’s going to lose Dream.

Before he knows it, he’s sobbing into the phone, loud ugly heaving sobs. “Don’t do it, Dream. I’m serious. Please— Just wait for one of us to get there. We can be with you. We can help.”

Dream’s voice hardens again. “You mean you can stop me.”

“Dream—” George starts to beg, trying to figure out how to lie without Dream catching him.

But Dream beats him to it.

“I’m gonna hang up now—”

Panic rips through George. The shock of it physically hurts in his veins, in his heart.

“No!” he almost screams. “Dream, Dream, don’t hang up—”

“Oh my god, relax. I’m calling Sapnap. I’m not doing anything yet.” He can almost hear Dream rolling his eyes. It’s not comforting.

George sniffles. He knows it sounds pathetic. He’s not one for pity but if it gets Dream to keep talking with him, he’s willing to stoop to any low. He just doesn’t know if he can believe Dream.

“Can’t you just… stay on the phone with me?”

“What, forever? Is that your plan? Just keep me on the line until someone inevitably finds me somehow?” Dream mocks.

Yes.

“No,” George says instead because he thinks it’s what Dream wants to hear.

Dream switches tactics. George recognizes the persuasion in his tone.

“Don’t you want me to call Sapnap? Shouldn’t he also get the chance to talk with me?” Dream questions.

Guilts rests against George’s ribs.

Of course he wants Sapnap to get the chance to talk to Dream. What if this is their last chance to talk? But George is too selfish to think about it much.

“That’s not what you’re asking me. Don’t try and pull that shit. You’re asking me to hang up. You’re asking for me to say goodbye and I’m…” George’s voice drops, almost inaudible. “I’m not ready.”

“George…” Dream’s voice trails off. His next words are nearly silent, something bitter and mournful about them. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” George mumbles.

“Are you gonna say it back to me?” Dream demands. George doesn’t know what holds him back now but something does.

“You know I do, Dream, why—”

The dial tone rings in George’s ears.

Dream hung up.

Not even 30 seconds pass, not nearly enough for the abrupt end of their call to sink in, when George’s phone is ringing again. He fumbles with his screen but manages to pick up.

“George?”

George’s heart sinks. It’s not the voice he wants to hear. That he needs to hear.

“Bad?”

“Yeah,” Bad affirms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” George scoffs and it feels like it rips his throat. He feels like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch a wall. Like he would give anything to be somewhere warmer right now. “No, I’m obviously not okay, Bad. He’s going to— to—”

“I know. Sapnap told me.”

Bad’s voice is collected, even. It just makes George more frustrated. How can everyone be so fucking calm about this?

“George, just try to take some deep breaths, okay?” George ignores the suggestion. “Sapnap is on the phone with Dream. He just hung up on me to talk to him. I’m driving there right now, okay?”

George pauses. Something cold washes over him. He doesn’t know yet if it’s relief.

“You’re— you’re driving to Dream?”

“Yes,” Bad affirms. “We just have to keep him talking to someone for the next hour—”

“Hour? Are you serious? That’s too long!” George knows he’s screaming now. He doesn’t care.

“George—”

“We have to call an ambulance, the police. There has to be someone we can call.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of other ways they could possibly get there in time. He comes up blank. He can’t accept it. He can’t.

Dream, alone. Dream, bereft. Dream, dead.

“I know but I can’t— I was trying to tell you.” Bad’s words are muffled. It sounds like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He confesses, “I don’t know his exact address. Sapnap is going to try and get it while he talks to him. I’m driving to Orlando and hopefully Sap knows it by the time I get there but we’re just—”

“No, no, no—”

George thinks of Bad arriving just in time to find Dream’s body still warm. He’s going to be sick. His chest hurts. His lungs burn.

“Try and take some deep breaths—” Bad placates as George speaks over him.

“I’m never going to talk to him again. He’s going to kill himself.” George is spiraling. He can’t stop himself.

“George, I’m going to get there in time.” But Bad doesn’t sound sure of himself. George zeros in on the weakness.

“You don’t know that,” George hisses.

“This is hard for all of us, George!” George startles at Bad’s yell. He’s heard Bad raise his voice before but never at him, never seriously. “I’m sorry,” Bad apologizes, words quieting again. George hears a sniffle through the phone.

Bad’s crying.

God, George is a terrible person. He didn’t even think to check in on Bad. Bad’s the one who might find Dream halfway there or already committed. He’s the only one who’s even close to being able to do something and maybe that’s the worst position to be in.

To be so close and lose a friend anyway.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I know it’s hard for all of us. I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re doing more than me.” George tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat. It’s not funny anyway.

“It’s going to be okay,” but it doesn’t even sound like Bad believes himself.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” George murmurs. He feels exhausted. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through him that it hurts. “Can we just talk about something else just… just for a little?” he begs. Like anything could distract him from this.

“Yeah George.” George can hear the sympathy in Bad’s voice. He’s too far gone for the pity to bother him. “Let me— Let me tell you about what I did this weekend on the SMP.”

George sucks in a sharp inhale. “Not— not the SMP. Can you talk about something else?”

“Of course,” Bad agrees easily. “So last Friday I went to visit my family…”

George lets Bad talk in the background. Every once in a while, one of them will sniffle or sob or take a breath that’s too shaky to be normal. Neither of them mentions it.

George listens to people walk past his window, their voices carrying up into the stars.

The noises of the highway drone on through his phone.

Bad drives.

George thinks about what it would be like to go on without Dream.

He’ll never be the same, he already knows. It will haunt him for years. For the rest of his life. The thought of being so close to someone and then losing them.

Death is natural. He knows that. But it’s the intentionality of it that aches the most. The idea that Dream would leave behind everything for something so painful and unknown.

And George just knows… part of him will die with Dream and never come back.

George doesn’t know who he’ll be with that part missing.

part 1/3, though the next update won’t really be an update but it will be soon

#dreamnotfound #dnf #just gotta get those tags out of the way #dream smp #fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #dnf fanfic #tw suicide #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #thewar #dream team #pls just go to Ao3 I'm begging you

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bubbleteaa · 4 years

Text

The second button [Bokuto Koutarou x Reader]

the second button;; pairing: bokuto koutarou x reader, slight akaashi x reader fandom: haikyuu!! genres: angst, slight fluff word count: 1k or smth (drabble)

a/n: i want to give an special thanks to @drainedjaz ( @boomboomjaz go simp for jazz and her work pls) for beta reading and giving me recommendations <3 ily baby. also, i want to thank to the entire cheese cult just bc i love them so much and im simping so hard for them, like, a lot-. Please stay safe, drink tons of water, eat your meals and sleep at least 8 hours (do it at least for me cuz i canT AKSJHDJS)! I love you <3

Summary: You asked Bokuto for his second button after the graduation ceremony, but it was too late.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Time goes fast. Too fast. One day you are in diapers and the next in hakama, with a diploma in your hands and looking for the second button. The button of the boy you had fallen in love with.

You smiled lightly as you searched for Bokuto, the crowds at the ceremony starting to condense as you walked down the halls. You looked for it with your gaze, which stopped when you found the boy, you looked at his back to a few second-year girls you recognized.

“Taro!” You called him without erasing your smile. Bokuto lightly turned his head towards you and gave you one of his best smiles. His smile. His smile made your knees tremble, created convulsions in your heart, confused your thoughts. You were still behind him when he answered you, the number of girls after they saw you started to decrease.

He didn't talk until the last one left.

“Hey hey hey! Y/N-chan” he smiled, fixing his clothes and his hair. His smile was different from that of other days, his eyes shone with an intensity that he only dedicated to volleyball “We graduated!” He laughed, turning around fully to face you.

Your eyes were glued to his face, his expression of joy. You wanted to see his expression over and over for the rest of your life. You wanted to be able to see him grow as a professional, you wanted to help him, encourage him, love him, and shower him with words, kisses, hugs.

You loved him. So much.

“Yes” you replied, closing your eyes and smiling at him “Congratulations, Koutarou” you took his free hand and squeezed it a little. Bokuto acted as always before you displayed affection, he only corresponded “You did a good job, you are too cool, I am very happy” you swallowed to open your eyes and look him in the eyes “Uh..., I wanted to ask you something”

“Uh, what's going on Y/N-chan?” before the compliments, the boy with golden eyes looked at you with emotion “What's wrong? What's up?"

The love you felt for Bokuto was different from the one you had with any other boy you met before, it was not the same, it was not even close to being the same. Bokuto was different. It was special. He was someone who was always there for you, regardless of time or place. Someone who always gave you love, hugged you, caused you things you never thought you would feel.

Your love for Bokuto made you weak.

“I like you, Taro. Like, I have like you for a long, long time. I wanted to ask you if you could give me your second button” the words came out softly, a deep pink sneaked down your cheeks while you did not break eye contact with Bokuto. The grip of his hand with yours tightened a little, nervously.

“Ah...”

You blinked slightly confused when Bokuto released your hand and scratched the back of his neck. He avoided looking at you. At his action, your gaze began to slide down the features of his face, then down his neck to reach his shirt. Your heart began to beat strongly and quickly, your head began to process things slowly, your knees weakened, threatening to touch the ground.

His second button was missing.

His second button did not belong to you.

“I gave Rin-chan my button” his tone started to drop as if he was scared of hurting you “I really like her...”

Your ears stopped listening to his words, your lips trembled strongly. You shook your head, trying to push out negative emotions. You had to be happy for him. You had to be strong for him.

Bokuto had always been strong for you.

“Ah!” you said, closing your eyes and waving your hands nervously “I understand, don't worry, Bokuto!” you denied again, without opening your eyes “You must be very happy. Rin-chan is very pretty”

“Yeah…”

“I should go, Bokuto. Good luck” the last words were said softly, but they were loaded with sadness and pain. A bittersweet taste appeared on your lips "I love you very much"

Before he could answer you, you bowed to him and left.

Time goes fast. One day you have your heart beating for someone and at other, it's broken. One day you use dresses and you look beautiful in them, and at others, you wear a hakama that covers your whole body full of sadness.

You walked differently than how you walked when you wanted to be in his arms, how you wanted to jump and kiss his lips, how you walked when you were with him.

You weren't walking, you were running away.

You left through the main entrance to the building where the ceremony was taking place. Your breathing seemed to catch for every breath you took, your heartbeat that hurt, weighed, hitting the inside of your chest with so much force that you did not recognize if you were being beaten or you only had a broken heart. Your breathing quickened, it seemed to be following the pace of your heart. The same one that was aching and felt heavier than usual. It pounded with force against your chest that you weren’t sure if it was due to the running or because it shattered to pieces.

Little tiny pieces.

He does not love you.

“Y/N-san, congratulations”

Akaashi didn't know that your eyes could look so sad. He had never seen you cry, yes, he had seen you discouraged a few times, the way they looked so dull and broken, he could not ignore it. He couldn't ignore how sad you looked, worse when he knew why.

But he does.

“Akaashi -kun” you gave him a small cordial smile, his eyebrows furrowed slightly when you closed your eyes, small tears ran down your face "Thank you very much"

Akaashi's arms were not as huge as Bokuto's. They were not so muscular, so shocking, so strong. They did not look alike. They could not be compared.

But the hug he gave you, the hug that shook your whole body the moment you burst into tears in front of him reminded you of the hugs the gray-haired boy with black gave you whenever they won a game. It was a hug full of emotions, not joy or sorrow, emotions intertwined with feelings that could not be expressed in words.

As you broke into Akaashi's chest, you realized he didn't have a second button either.

“I know it shouldn't be me, but I'll give it to you, I want to give it to you, Y/N-san” he said softly, handing you the button while looking you in the eye “Please, accept it”

The second button is the one that is closest to the heart. It is the one that can feel the most as the muscular organ inside your chest flutters and calms down when you are close to the person you love.

The second button is your heart.

And that day, yours got broken, just to receive another one.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

c h e s s e c u l t: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @airybby @kawaiikraykray @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa (wifey ily sm pls marry me again <3) @hakueishirei @hanibuni

also please check out their work, they r legit so fucking good and every single one needs more recognition. Please<3

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iluvsexyvoltageguys · 4 years

Text

Full Service

Fandom: Irresistible Mistakes (Love 365)

Pairing: Shunichiro x Reader

Note: @rougepetale this is for you, hope you enjoy your man 😏

You had been completely ready for work, just about to put on your coat and head out the door when you felt his hand on your shoulder. It was early and you hadn’t expected him to wake before you left, but you turned toward him and saw fire in his eyes.

He wanted you.

Knowing it wouldn’t take long, and feeling his heat light you up, you tossed the coat aside and let him press against your body, his erection obvious even through his boxers and your pants. The kiss was brief, dirty and deep, meant only to agree upon the level of need. Shunichiro pulled you into the living room where you could brace yourself on the back of a chair, right after unfastening your pants and letting them fall to your ankles. He stepped behind you to take care of your panties, pushing them roughly to the side as he bent you over.

He freed himself from his boxers and pushed forward, using his knee to open you as wide as your clothing would allow, sliding home with one long stroke. He hadn’t even bothered to check to see how wet and ready you were; not that there was a need for that. You were always wet and ready.

You wanted him.

There was never a rhythm, the pace frantic from the first thrust. You didn’t hold back, letting your cries for more echo throughout the room. Shunichiro was well aware that you loved to be fucked hard, but you liked to remind him anyway, pleading for his cock even as he gripped your hips with enough force to leave marks. When he leaned forward to nip your shoulder through your blouse, you came on a violent shudder, breathlessly demanding that he fill you up.

He couldn’t remember you ever wording it quite like that. Sure, you had told him to come plenty of times, but the specific request to fill you up was different. Primal. And he reacted to it. “You want to be filled up? You want to feel everything I can give you? The way only you can make me come?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Any further encouragement was unnecessary and Shunichiro pumped only twice more before he held himself deep inside and let your pussy help milk him of every drop. He was still draped over you, his cock slowly softening within you, as you mumbled into the chair cushion. “I should go change before I leave for the office.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You wanted to be filled up. I want you to stay that way.”

Something in his tone kept you silent, so he took the opportunity to slip out from you, fixing your panties as quickly as possible. Your pants followed, though he let you handle the zipper and button. You were quiet long enough that he thought he might have pushed you too far, but when you turned around and hungrily attacked his mouth, letting your tongue tease the roof of his mouth before you nipped at his lower lip, he stopped worrying.

You finally pulled away and smiled wickedly, loving the secret you would share with him all day. Without another word, you picked up your coat and left for work.

~~~~~

The rest of the morning was relatively normal; you, Toma and Toshiaki continued to work on the story board of the current commercial you were working on. However, even surrounded by the mundane, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way you were marked, feeling it with every step and embracing the warmth crawling just under your skin.

When you saw Shunichiro step off the elevator, two coffees in hand, you swore you felt a new wave of your own wetness mix with his. He handed you the steaming cup at your desk, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I can smell myself on you.”

Wide-eyed and blushing, you whipped your head around to where the guys were huddled around Toma’s computer, then slowly turned back to Shunichiro. “Really? Do you think they’ve noticed?”

“I hope so.” He walked away before you could respond, and you couldn’t even figure out how you felt. Powerful? Dirty? Needy? Some of everything? You supposed being ashamed would be a normal reaction, yet there was absolutely none of that. Hurrying to rejoin your team, you did what you could to push it all from your mind so that you could focus on work.

Things were fine until lunchtime, when everyone went to grab lunch and you and Shunichiro were left alone for several minutes. You were leaning against a desk, still editing the story board, but he made his presence known when he nudged your shoulder and grinned mischievously, “Still filled up?”

“Well, I’m not sure how ‘filled up’ I am, but I’m plenty wet.”

He studied you for a long moment. “What happened to keeping it in all day?”

“Um, gravity?”

It was a simple fact, but he just shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the office and down a familiar hallway. There was a small storage closet that you had become rather acquainted with, though you really tried to avoid too much sex at work. The idea of getting caught was both arousing and appalling, but on days like this, it just didn’t matter.

You both crowded into the tiny room and shut the door behind you, leaving you with a sliver of light. It only took a minute of fumbling to find the sturdy boxes you knew were there, then stack them to a height that would allow you to sit at the perfect angle for him to fuck you with little effort.

Just as had happened earlier, your clothes hung around your ankles; he let his fall as well, unconcerned with anything but coming inside you again. Your mouths met sloppily just as his cock drove deep, a gasp of relief coming from both of you. The sound of your joining was louder and wetter than normal, a reminder of what you were doing and how much you were turned on by it. He reached for a handful of your hair and pulled your head back, giving him room to suck on your neck as he repeatedly pounded into you

Your hand dropped between your bodies, fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. He looked down at your colliding hips and groaned at the sight. “You want me to come hard inside you? Fill you up again?”

"Please!”

You let yourself go, your entire body tightening as you tried to stay silent, only a desperate mewl escaping your lips. He followed quickly, in tune with your body and on edge with the desire to leave you with more evidence of your shared lust. As he spilled inside you, his forehead fell forward against yours, and you both took a moment to catch your breaths.

By the time he slid away from your body and you carefully moved off the boxes, your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you were able to watch as he eased your panties back into place. Before his hand fully let you go, he tucked it under the elastic and dragged his fingertips through the cum he had just left behind. Bringing them up to your mouth, he touched your lips and you opened for him, sucking his fingers clean as you stared at him.

“You’ll try harder to keep it all inside this time?”

Your tongue still held him in your mouth, your lips sealed around him as you nodded.

~~~~~

You managed to make it through the rest of the day with some semblance of productivity and concentration, even as the heavy scent of sex followed you like an illicit haze. The guys had to have noticed something, but stayed quiet, the topic too intimate for either of them to bring up. Still, just knowing that they must have had their suspicions was enough to keep the arousal thrumming steadily throughout your body.

For his part, Shunichiro did lots of staring, but far less talking than normal. Instead, he followed you with his eyes, territorial and proud, eager for the moment he could get you alone again.

You had dinner reservations at a swanky restaurant and needed to stop at the apartment to change first, so you left work at a decent hour. You were both quiet on the drive home, simply holding hands with an innocence that belied the day’s earlier activities, but once you were through the front door, you grabbed at each other, removing clothing at a feverish pace.

How you made it to the bedroom was unknown, even to you. Your panties were the last barrier between the two of you and they were unceremoniously tossed to the floor, just a second before his naked body pressed you down into the mattress. You attempted to lock your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, but he stopped you, instead moving them to his shoulders. The angle allowed him to get deeper than he had been all day, and hit your g-spot perfectly. It didn’t matter that you had already fucked twice that day; neither of you would last long.

You got loud, begging to be filled up one more time. Your string of expletives urged both of you on, and you finally screamed his name, your pussy gripping him desperately and pulling him in. Several seconds later, he emptied himself for a third time, sticky streams adding to everything he had already given you.

As soon as you both recovered, he moved to pick up your panties, dropping them onto your bare stomach. “Pick any dress you want, but keep the same panties on.”

You made it to the restaurant in time, dressed to the nines and sinful as hell. There was no way to tell which of you were riding more of a high throughout the meal; he still felt dominant, having left his mark on you all day long, while you felt powerful, flaunting your unions with poorly-hidden evidence. It was outrageously dirty, but you both owned it.

By the time you had finished dinner, you were fully sated, all appetites and cravings having been satisfied over that past several hours. Well, almost all of them.

Your server came over to you offering a choice of crème brulee, cheesecake, or tiramisu, but you spoke up before Shunichiro had the opportunity to respond. “No, thank you. He’ll be able to eat dessert at home.”

IM Masterlist

#irresistible mistakes smut #im smut #shunichiro tachibana smut #voltage inc smut #voltage inc fanfiction #irresitable mistakes #im #shunichiro tachibana #voltage inc #love 365

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littlebitoffanfic · 5 years

Text

Never - part 2

Fandom: Little Nightmares Characters: Roger, the twins Relationship: Roger/reader Request: could you write an x roger the janitor from little nightmares? I don’t know but something really angsty. Its totally up to you Part 1: http://littlebitoffanfic.tumblr.com/post/182536245099/never AN: I take it back, this will be a three part story. You snuck out of the elevator, making as little noise as possible. Yes, you knew he would be working on the upper levels at this time, but he might still come back down if he hears something. Making your way through the dark hallways, you saw the door which lead to his personal quarters. But something took you by surprise. You could see the door, but there was light underneath it. You clicked your torch off, just to make sure and sure enough you could easily see the yellow light under the door. Did he still keep the lights on? He had mentioned he could hear the soft tapping/flickering from within the walls, the result of old wiring and it would sometimes irritate him. So why keep them on when its no longer needed? The answer made you sick to your stomach. He missed you. He kept them on for you. Maybe the sound reminded him of when you were with him or maybe it was just in case you came back. Whatever it was, you had to stop and turn away from the door, your eyes filled with tears. You thought of him, sitting on his own in his own dark world, nothing around him. No light, no joy, no enjoyment or love. Just darkness. bending over, you brace yourself on your knees, taking deep breaths. This wasn’t meant to be this hard. You had one thing you wanted, one thing you were going to steal from him. But he wouldn’t notice it was gone. At least, you hoped he wouldn’t. Pulling yourself together, you turned and walked to the door and stepped into the room. Just as you remembered it, his quarters always felt like home away from home. It had that warm, welcoming atmosphere that most of the other places in the Maw didn’t. you knew you could just stand here, staring at the place you use to spend every moment of your free time in. you left the living area and made your way to his bedroom. Walking quickly in to his bedroom, your eyes instantly fell on what you were here for. On the wall above his table, was a portrait of himself. With his hat and a smile on his face, that was exactly how you wanted to remember him. The lady had forayed you from even laying eyes on him, so this would be the next best thing. You used the bed to give you a leg up, quickly unhooking the frame from the wall, you paused, wondering if you should just take the photo and leave the frame. Stepping back onto the floor, you sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the frame. Sure, it would be safer to leave the frame and just take the picture, but you could bring yourself to pry open the back. What if you broke it? Scoffing at the notion, you berated yourself for the silly thought. You were stealing the picture, so it wasn’t like your intentions were pure. But you just wanted something to remember him. You didn’t want to forget what he looked like or run like a lost child at the slightest sight of him just to remind yourself. Your eyes travel from the frame to the portrait. Whatever cruel fate allowed you to finally find someone you connected with before ripping them away from you was certainly the truest evil in the world. your tears dropped off the end of your nose, splashing on the glass of the frame and protecting the photo within. You pulled the picture to your chest, hugging it against you as your rocked on the bed, silent tears running down your cheeks. but you couldn’t stay. Standing up, you were about to leave the room when something caught your eyes. On his wall, above his bed, there was a new photo. You had always wondered why he kept them, considering his lack of sight until you found out he could restore his sight, but it was painful and difficult. If he were to push the folds of skin up, he could reveal his eyes and see but it was extremely painful and uncomfortable for him to do, so he had just given up. But at night, you wondered if when he lay down, he could perhaps see a little as the skin relaxed. Maybe he would stare up at the pictures. He had photos of some of the former residents of the Maw, the twins, some Nomes and the newest addition was you. It was a portrait which you had all but forgotten about. It was taken on your first day on the Maw. You were told it was customary. The Twins had one as did the Lady and it was hung up in their living quarters. Rogers one of you was directly above his bed, front and centre of all the pictures. placing the portrait of Roger down, you reached up and took the photo off the wall. It had been dusted recently. you don’t know what possessed you to pull the pen you always kept on you out of your pocket. Nor what caused you to turn the photo over and pry the back off the frame. But you took your portrait out, keeping the photo face down. Clicking the pen, you lowered it to the blank back. “I’ll always love you, Roger. No matter what happens. All my love, [y/n].” Pulling the pen off, you stared down at the confession. Some tear stains appeared under the words and you quickly straighten up, wiping the tears off your cheeks. Something moved to the side and caught your eyes, making you jump. But you quickly saw a Nome was standing on the table, their head tilted to the side as they appeared to be reading the message. “Don’t tell him, okay? Our little secret.” You offer it a small smile before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small bit of bread you had bought to bribe the Nomes if you saw them. It nodded and held out its tiny hands for the bread, which you gave it. As it nibbled away, you put your picture back in the frame and hung it back on the wall, making sure it was straight. The loud sound of bells filled your ears, signalling it was on the hour. You needed to leave. Waving the little Nome farewell, you quickly ran out the quarters, your new treasure in your arms. When you got to your own quarters, you quickly perched the photo on your bed stand against the light. You thought of hanging it up, but for now at least you would keep it by your bed. -------time skip ----------------- While you were cleaning the hallway of the ladys quarter, you heard a ding of the elevator bell and it came up. You were confused since the lady was up in her bedroom, so who was coming up? You watched closely as the elevator opened to reveal… no one. Blinking, you place down the duster and walk closer to the empty box until your eyes fell on a note. Looking at it, you recognised it as Dees writing. It was an invite to join him and his brother for a cup of tea the next evening after the lady goes to bed. You frown but then hear the squeak of the floorboards as she left her room. You picked up the note and stuffed in your pocket just in times as she appeared at the top of the stairs. “Why was the elevator called?” She asked, her voice dripping with suspicion. “I don’t know. I was cleaning and it suddenly came up. Must have been the Nomes playing.” You reason with a shrug, returning to your dusting. She eyed you suspiciously before returning to her room. You slipped into your own and took out the note, reading it again. --------time skip ------------------- “I don’t understand.” You signed, hiccupping as you wiped away tears. “why am I here?” The twins sat in silence, Dee obviously deep in thought while his brother didn’t know how to comfort you. When you sat down with them, you knew this wasn’t just to discuss the weather. They were worried, and the more you all talked about why the lady might have got so possessive with you, the more agitated and upset you got. “Why did you think?” Dee finally asked, leaning forward as he took a draw of his cigarette before placing it in an ashtray for his brother. “It wouldn’t have brought you here without a reason. And the lady was pretty content before.” “I-I thought-“ you trailed off, searching the mug in your hands for some kind of answer, like the reason might be spelled out in your drink but you found nothing. You were here for the Lady. That was the only reason. You were here to help her, to be her maid, her assistant and her alley. Maybe even a friend. “I am here for the lady.” You close your eyes, frustrated with yourself. You KNEW this. This wasn’t new information. But why did it feel wrong? You picked up your drink, but paused about an inch off the table, only really holding it for comfort. “She was fine before.” Dum suddenly said, making you look up at him with confusion. “Well, before you came. She had those shadows and dolls she liked. And she could do everything herself.” “So im useless?” You breathed, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach. All you had ever wanted was to belong somewhere, to be a part of a family and to be needed. there was a bang and then a yelp as Dee hit the back of Dums head. “HEY! I didn’t say that! I was just saying that the lady was fine before. But Roger, well, he’s not been right for years now.” Dum cried out, rubbing the back of his head as he glared at his brother. The room fell quiet as both you and Dee stared at the youngest twin, your minds working rapidly. “That don’t make a damn lick of sense. Why would-“ Dee started to berate his brother, until he heard the sound of your mug dropping back to the table. “Im, im not her companion.” You finally spoke, your voice barley over a whisper as you stared between the brothers at the wall behind them. “What?” Dee leaned to the side, into your line of sight as it drew you out of your thoughts. “You have each other, she has her shadow children. Roger had bought his family with him as a companion, Granny. But she was banished and he was left with no one. The lady, she must have known I was here to be someone’s companion. She must have assumed it was her own, like we all did. But then, that day, she realised and-” You spoke rapidly before Dee jumped, realising where you were going with this train of thought. “She got jealous.” He breathed, his head nodding slightly. You bit down on your lip as you try to ease your racing heart, looking at Dee. “Im not her companion. Im his.” There was a shift within the Maw, the whole structure seemed to rumble or purr at your words. It made the three of you jump as you looked around. Never, in all the time you had been there or while the twins had been there, had they ever heard such a noise. You darted out of your seat, heading for the elevator to the Ladys quarters. “Where you going?!” Dee shouted after you, although you could tell by the fear in his voice that he already knew. “To speak to her. It’s the only way.” You call over your shoulder, your mind set. But then something grabbed your wrist. “She could kill you.” Dee had ran up behind you and held you back, his eyes wide. “She wont.” You shook your head. “You don’t know that. What if she takes the stance that if she cant have you, no one can?” Dee growled, pulling you away from the elevator. But something drew your attention up to the rafters of the ceiling. You saw some Nomes poking their heads out, balancing a can on the edge of it. “im sorry, Dee. But I have to try.” You genuinely meant your apology, knowing what the little menaces had planned. It certainly wouldn’t endear the chiefs to them, but it would allow you to get to the elevator. you nodded to the Nomes, who pushed the can off the edge of the wood, and it fell, hitting Dee on the head. It wouldn’t have been too hard, considering the can was empty, but the shock was enough to make his drop your wrist, raising both his hands to his head as his eyes closed. You took your chance, darting into the elevator and you were about to press the button when Dee called out your name. “What about Roger?!” he called out, causing you to faulter. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing he had fallen backwards and was now on the ground. But he made no attempt to run after you. The can had knocked his hat to the side and you could see the angry and hurt expression on his face. “You gonna run off and get yourself killed then what? Whos gonna tell him?” you felt the floor under you move as you stood still in the box, your fingers hovering over the button. Dee was right, she could easily kill you without laying a finger on you. But she wont. Doing so would anger the Maw, which had made its purpose for you clear. She would anger the Chiefs, the Nome’s and Roger. Even if he was angry at you, the twins would tell him everything. And maybe, when they clean out your old room, he’ll find the portrait you took of him. He’ll know. but will he understand? no. He would be resentful. Not of you, but of everyone and everything. He would resent the Lady for all her action, the twins for not stopping you, the Maw for dangling happiness in front of him then ripping it away, his life. You couldn’t bare the thought. Lowering your hand, you glance back over your shoulder at Dee. “How’s your head?” You ask, seeing him let out a breath as he realise you had changed your mind. “Bloody hurts. Damn Nome’s.” He cursed, looking up but the Nomes had gone. “Are you okay?” You called over to Dum, who was staring between you and his brother. He gave a signal nod. He was obviously in too much shock to really do anything. Stepping out of the elevator, you walked up to Dee and offered you his hand, which he took to help himself up. “Thank you.” You smile, slightly relieved he had been able to talk some sense into you. “No problem.” Dee returned your smile as he picked up his hat and returned it to his head. You looked to the doors at the back of the guest area, which lead to the kitchen and down into the lower levels. “Go on, quick before I get attacked again.” Dee pushes you towards the door before picking up the cups the three of you had forgotten about on the table. You nodded, waving to Dum before running to the doors. You quickly descended through the levels of the Maw, the gentle sway of the ship comforting you as you headed straight to Rogers quarters. Once on his level, you slowed to a walk, trying to catch your breath and get your thoughts straight, although even as you cross through the living area and heading to his bedroom. While there was little concept of night and day time on the Maw, Roger had a routine that he followed and right now, he would be sleeping. But as you drew closer, you saw the bedroom light was on and the door ajar. On the floor, you saw the light glinting off speckles of glass. Breaking into a sprint, you raced into the room only to find it empty. You looked around and saw a broken frame on the floor. Instantly, you recognised it as the one in which your photo had been. But why was it smashed? And empty? something moved from the corner of your eye and you quickly snapped your head to see 3Nomes standing on the table, obviously startled to see you there. “Who broke this?” You asked the Nomes. One pointed to the empty bed and then waved its arms. You knew exactly who they were speaking about. “[y/n]?” And all too familiar voice called your name from behind you. You turned to see Roger, standing in the doorway.

#little nightmares #roger the janitor #roger x reader #roger #roger the janitor x reader

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 5 years

Text

Silver Wings In The Moonlight

Fandom: Dunkirk

Pairing: Collins x Reader

Warning: N/A

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: Based off Anne Shelton’s ‘Silver Wings In The Moonlight’: Jack finally comes home after the war is over.

Notes: No Gender Pronouns used, neutral partner terms, but marriage is mentioned just in case that’s off putting.

Jack Collins loved flying. You knew that form the moment you met him. That he loved flying with everything in him, that it brought a thrill to him, as much as it scared him. He once told you that he felt the same way about you. That he loved you, you thrilled him, excited him, but that you scared him as well. That he was scared of how much he loved you, scared of leaving you to go fly in the war...that it was all a rather scary thing, being in love that is. You found it funny that he thought falling in love was as scary as fighting in the war.

You would always share him with his love of flying, you knew he’d be torn between the two and you never asked him to stop flying, to finding a safer job in the war...because that wasn’t fair and because ultimately you knew that he’d never stop you doing what you loved, no matter how dangerous, so what right did you have of doing the same.

You had just hoped, much as the familiar Anne Shelton song went, that eventually his love of flying, of his silver wings, of his plane, would bring him home safely. That he’d survive every single encounter and that you’d finally get to live in a world without war together.

Demobilisation was a long process, however. When the war in Europe was announced as over, won, done, completed, everyone had been happy, excited, overjoyed knowing that so many could finally come home even with the war in the pacific still ongoing. You were rather lucky that demobilisation of the Royal Air Force was a rather quick affair compared to the hundreds of thousands of men in the Army or Navy. You had known that Jack would be stationed at a nearby air base, that he’d be home...because while you knew he’d stay in the RAF post-war, you also knew without the war on he’d have more time for you, more safety, and you’d actually get to fall asleep in his arms for once.

When you finally got the letter telling you he was coming home it was the biggest relief you’d ever felt. Knowing you’d see him again.

Dearest Y/N,

This is a short letter compared to our usual exchanges, but i’m writing to let you know that i’ll be home soon. They’re stationing me back nearby now that the wars over. Giving me leave too, three whole weeks!

I’ve missed you with all my heart, as much as I love flying it is horrible being away from you. It will be great to be able to see you and fly again rather than having to choose between the both of you.

I always told you i’d make it back, even though I know you’ve worried every day for the past six years. It seems so strange that after six years we’re finally done with this bloody war.

Forever yours,

Jack

It had been brief considering his usual letters spanned two or three pages, but you’d understood why. He was coming home and why write about things that were happening when he could simply talk to you again, hold you in his arms and tell you every funny story, every sad happening, every moment that you’d missed over the six years of war.

You hadn’t a date for his arrival, but every day you made sure the house was perfect. That it was clean, that you had a good stock of tea, that you had enough to make a nice meal. It was the little things you wanted him to come back and not have to worry about going down the shop or clean up a tiny bit of mess. You wanted him to be able to come in and just hold you. For hours. Without any responsibilities or things to worry about. You’d spent six years with rare leave dotted here and there. A few days often at most to spend time together. Now you had three weeks. Three weeks and he’d be working nearby, perhaps able to live at home and go to base each day.

You’d been reading the paper when you heard the door unlock and open, close shut, and the sound of a familiar voice call down the hallway, “I’m home!” You’d been so excited you dropped the paper on the floor and rushed out of the living area, not stopping until you’d almost launched yourself at him for a long awaited hug.

He still smelt the same like carbolic soap and the aftershave he always used. He still felt the same, solid, warm, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tighter as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you.” You mumble it into the blue of his uniform, not wanting to pull away even for a second to talk to him. Letters allowed you to talk to him, but the physicality of having someone there? Nothing could replicate that. You couldn’t simply get a hug any time you wanted, a kiss on a cheek, a hand on the small of your back. The physicality just didn’t translate the way words did.

His grip tightens on you and you can hear and feel him take deep breaths, contented ones, taking in everything that surrounded him. “I’ve missed ye too, love...so much.”

You pull back, only enough to see his face. He looks the same. Blonde hair, cut short back and sides, long on the top, combed over neatly. Blue eyes that are so soft and kind, eyes that helped you fall in love with him. Soft smile, the type of smile that still managed to make you flustered and just a little bashful. He hadn’t changed much, older, certainly older. You both were. You’d first started dating when you were barely in your twenties. Now you were in the latter part of that decade of your life. You’d spent so much time apart, writing letters, keeping your relationship going.

“I can barely believe you’re actually here...finally...six years.” You press your forehead to his, close your eyes, taking in the feel of him, the smell of him, the presence of him once gain.

“Well, ye better believe it. I’m not goin’ anywhere anytime soon.” You open your eyes again, scan his face briefly, before pressing your lips to his. A little chapped and slightly unfamiliar after so long apart, but still Jack. Still the soft press of lips, the sweet hum of happiness from his throat before he pulls back and smiles down at you.

You’re not really prepared for him to sink to one knee, mostly because you’re still finding it hard to believe that he’s finally back, that the war is over and he’s finally back. So its rather something else to find him sinking to one knee.

“I don’t have a ring yet...I was going to wait till I found one, but we’ve waited six years and I just want to marry ye finally. I spent six years without ye and you’re the best partner I could ever ask for. You’ve put up with me for six years, without me help around the house, with me shitty handwriting. Will ye marry me?”

Its not something you really have to think about after so long, because you’ve already thought the answer before today, thought of this possibly happening a million times. You decided that if you could survive being away from him during a war, then you could manage the trials of married life. Of a life during peace time.

“Of course I will, Jack” You pull him back to his feet and grip him in a tight embrace once again. You don’t really need a ring or something fancy or a big speech, the fact that he’s here, that he’s alive, that he wants to marry you, that is enough.

“I love you.” You cup his cheeks in your hand and meet his eyes. You want to make sure he knows just how much you love him, that after everything you still love him the same as when you first fell for him. It hasn’t mellowed, hasn’t dissipated. Its still as strong as ever.

“I love ye too, sweetheart.”

#readerinsert #reader insert #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk #dunkirk reader insert #collins dunkirk #collinsxreader #collins x reader #collins/reader #collins / reader

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jujywrites · 5 years

Text

WIP Challenge

I got tagged by @kikithedeceiver to do this!

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Here’s the thing. I don’t have many separate WIP files; most of them are in one huge doc. and most of the separate wip files are... pretty dead? but ok whatevs. under a read more since it’s long...... and my ego won’t let me skip snippets hjkhkhk thanks for the idea Kiki

From my main miscellaneous folder:

50 Grades of Steele. 1 and a half chaps of a role-flipped 50 Shades of Grey rewrite (i haven’t read the books so I extra don’t care about the characters lol). why do i still have it i’ve lost interest.... *side eyes her entire wip ecosystem* ...Then I see my interview subject, seated at her desk.

"Mr. Grey. I'm pleased to meet you."

And I stop breathing. [end CH1]

[open CH2) I forgot to mention something: I exaggerate occasionally. But I'm not now. I literally stop breathing for a few seconds. A thousand thoughts are racing through my mind, which doesn't help my chest stop seizing, but the main problem here is that Anastasia Steele is quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Fanfic idea masterlist. my most active file and where I keep most of my WIPS, unless they get too “large”. Organized by fandom. lotta stuff i keep passing by & may as well be dead but don’t wanna delete. here’s a zero-draft snippet of probably the next chapter of my G-rated yukyoru fic collection

He grabbed a pillow and placed it to his chest, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him, praying his idea would work.

Seconds passed and he didn't transform. He put his arms around her gingerly. Should he try to immobilize her or would that make it worse?

She made the decision for him. "Mom," she sobbed, clutching him with an iron grip. "N-Need to help...!"

His stomach dropped to his shoes.

Thudding footsteps announced Yuki's arrival. "What's wrong?! Honda-san--"

He didn't say "What did you do?" The thought raced by and Kyo said, "Grab a pillow and help me!"

As Yuki positioned the pillow and himself without having to ask, Kyo said, "She won't wake up. I don't know what to do!"

"Night terror," Yuki said tightly. He was too close but it almost didn't matter. "Not much you can do besides wait."

MayxWard BDSM fic agents of SHIELD. mix of notes and actual writing. kind of a half AU. Melinda climbed into the driver's side and buckled in, then started up the car. "If you've not ridden on the left before you might have motion sickness. It's normal. Just close your eyes until—" She paused as she looked at him; his hands shook so much he couldn't manage the seatbelt. "Here, let me."

"Thanks," he muttered with a sigh, looking rueful.

Modern AU Zelink. What it says on the tin~ Teenage-ish Zelink, with a mash of supporting characters from other games. another mix of notes and fic. Link wasn't sleeping tonight. Tonight was the night he'd been planning for and awaiting for weeks. He was going on a quest: the quest to meet Princess Zelda.

She wasn't really a princess, of course. That was just her nickname. Zelda Nohansen was Hyrule's sweetheart, the most sought-after young actress in the movie business. And Link had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her, two years ago in a tiny theater in Kakariko.

PMMMfic homumado. Madoka Magica. AU, been around since about an hour after I finished the series (5 years yikes, still gotta watch Rebellion). Homura's time power still somewhat involved, but Mami's an adult, everyone's at a boarding school (I think?) where ~things aren't as they first seem~ and Madoka has mysterious powers and night terrors. just notes at the moment.

SoubixHitomi. Loveless. 3 unfinished/dead first-person Shinonome-senseixSoubi snippets, all of ‘em spicy.

yvy abo. Yuri On Ice. Yuri (Katsuki!!)/Victor/Yuko(!!?!), my attempt at. well. omegaverse(!!!!!!!). orignally started as part of a “bad YOI fic” bigbang and now I’m taking it seriously dgdgfg. Alpha Yuko. “Please, please stop,” she whispered, like saying it aloud would make any difference. But the pressure in her head kept building. Her limbs had begun to itch restlessly.

And Victor wouldn’t let go of her hand.

With the last scrap of her control, she straddled him quickly and kissed him awake.

Even in half-sleep he arched to meet her, and when he opened his eyes sapphire blue had already turned stormy with lust.

yvy canonfuturefic. Yuko-focused following of canon, or: how canon can I keep YOI while still rareship OT3ing it. She and Yuri fall in and out of love, in between falling for Victor. Victuri is still my life I swear

“You have got to watch this,” she tells Yuri. She watches Yuri’s face instead of the video, having seen it at least forty times by now.

Yuri’s eyes transform into beacons of awe, and Yuko swallows around her rapid heartbeat, breaths coming too short. She sees everything she’s feeling and more on his face. She remembers that she loves him, that he’s real and here and more important than the beautiful boy on her phone who’s trying to pull her under to a scary new world.

ZnT ot3 bdsm AU. Zankyou no Terror, 9/12/Lisa. mix of notes and fic, not just PWP. in heavy need of editing bc a lot was inspired by a non-spicy book.

“But it’s not just me. It’s everyone. You need everyone because you have no idea how to need yourself. Or even how to be yourself.”

“You’re wrong.” The force and volume of her voice shocked her and pushed her onward. “You and Touji. I don’t need anyone except you and Touji! Because you both taught me how to be myself-- no, how to find that on my own. I know exactly who I am, and that me isn’t complete without both of you!” She could feel the tears streaming down her face, yet somehow her voice didn’t waver. She felt so full of conviction she could burst into flames. “Don’t you understand, Arata? We’re all meant to be together.”

From my SnK folder:

Cave of the Crystal Maiden (working title). Aruani. Modern AU. MMORPG shenanigans with a dollop of magical realism/supernatural. Just notes. @portraitofa-girl suggested “meeting online” and it’s been there literally for years oh lord im sorry. no fic yet, just notes.

Falling Anthem (working title) Modern AU Levihan, art student Hange and young professor Levi. just notes. fic one in a planned series. also has been years ;_;

Raindrops and Soft Steps. Jearmin. unsurprisingly, modern AU. One morning, when Jean looks out of his bedroom window, he sees a boy dancing across the street. In the street, to be exact. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that, Jean supposes, except it's raining cats and dogs outside.

In my IAMXfic folder (fff i almost skipped this):

2ndPOVCalberto (DO NOT CORRUPT WITH HET) ChrisxAlberto? not much to say?? yes i know they’re real people??? which applies to everything after this oh my god *crawls under desk* Of course she knows; she is annoyingly perceptive when it comes to romance. The only thing preventing you from asking her (like a fucking lovestruck teenager) if Alberto likes you back is emptying that beer bottle. By then the only thing on your mind is ordering another.

CalbertImmi. i can’t even keep my poly shit outta RPF ahaha omhg Imogen has a conversation with her lover's lover. (AlbertImmi, sequel to...) Imogen finds herself in an unenviable position. (emerging CalbertImmi)

Alternate summaries (CC POV, first fic?): Chris loves two people. He doesn't want to choose. Chris has fallen in love a few times in his life. But he's never fallen for two people at once. (Chris also isn't good at choosing.)

ChrisxJ. several self-insert fics bc CC is just that powerful, apparently. haven’t looked at the file in a long time,,,,,

He started calling people to the stage with him, and one by one, my row emptied.

"Come on, yeah, come on," he was saying, waving his hand in an inviting gesture and grinning like a little kid. "Hey, you want to?" I did a double take.

"Me?" I mouthed, pointing at myself just to be sure. He nodded, smiling wider.

So it was that I walked unsteadily down the ramp and waited in line, feeling like I didn’t belong there. Soon I was next in line. What would I say? What would I do? I was sure if I opened my mouth I’d either burst into tears or faint.

Genderswapped IAMX sci-fi. The sci-fi was inspired by a word prompt, genderswapping by my own brain. (play spot the Immi lmao) Across the aisle, Sam rolled his eyes. “Leave Chris alone; she’s nervous.”

“And put on your own seatbelt, Johann,” shouted Jess, two seats back and in Sam’s aisle.

Patrick turned to look at Chris. “Subspace travel is a bitch,” he said simply, and turned back to his book.

“Oh, I feel much less nervous now,” Chris said with a sardonic grin. “How do you know that, anyway?”

"I'm not exactly what I seem to be." He didn’t look up.

Chriimmi (While I Was Gone inspired). Chris/Imogen, inspired by scenes from Sue Miller’s While I Was Gone.

"You really ought not to do that, you know," he said softly.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me."

My eyes slid from his face. "I didn't mean to. It just... happened."

"Mm." I glanced back at him; he wore a lopsided smile. "Not that I minded." The tension was so strong the air nearly vibrated with it, yet I held my tongue, terrified that I was the only one feeling it. He took a breath, deep, nearly rising on his toes. "No. I didn't mind at all." He took my hand, circled his thumb over the back. My breath caught as I felt it, as I watched him looking down at our hands.

Chriimmi bathtub dream. dream inspired Chris/Immi smut.

Chriimmi twitter. twitfic plus some, inspired from an actual tweet iamx made that i’m still not over.

@ imogenheap Come sing your lovely lyrics with us in London. @ IAMX misses you. CCx

ChrisxImmi main. grab bag of Chriimmi I was too lazy to put into separate docs.

“What do you think?” She grinned, twirling.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, I-Imogen, what are you wearing?”

“Well, I didn’t want to clash with your theme… Janine helped me. Does it work?”

Scandalously short skirt, midriff-baring top, knee-high boots.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Her grin only widened, even though a blush had started.

Fic edit chriimmi ver. yeah. editing someone else’s original fic to be chrimmi. either never posting or editing the frick out of. ~_~

He kissed her neck, whispered into it, “I love you.”

Imogen laughed. “Bollocks,” she said lazily.

”I do!” Chris protested. She looked down at him, nestled on her shoulder. He looked back, open, a little adoring. “I fell in love with you halfway through the show; I sang every note just for you.”

”Oh, please. You couldn’t have seen me.”

”No,” he said. “But I knew you were out there… I knew it had been you the minute I saw you backstage.”

Hospital Chriimmi. In which my guilty feeling over RPF are even worse bc of the inspiration ^_^U “Ms. Heap. What a pleasant surprise.” It’s surprising, how well she remembers his voice.

“Mr. Corner, what have you got yourself into?”

“Oh, just a bit of lingering insomnia. You know how it is.”

She takes a seat in the chair near his bed, crossing her legs. “Well, I’ve certainly had a sleepless night here and there, but I’ve never ended up in hospital from it. So no, I don’t suppose I do know.” Her tone is light, but her smile has begun to crack.

ImmixChris genderbend smut. the my secret friend video is... fertile material. have not actually written the smut yet.

...he saw us as characters– we put on those clothes and become separate from ourselves, removed. Whereas I simply felt like myself in men’s clothes, and instead of feeling what He felt for Her, I just kept right on feeling what I felt for Chris, amplified to a distracting level.

ReluctantdommeImmixSubCC. ...shrug emoji? notes and uh. visualizing.

Vampire Chriimmi. based on a dream. smutty. inspired by True Blood so wow that’s old.

From my Markipairings folder:

demon dream. markiplier self insert...... ughhhhhhhh o///o

"You can have me," I tell the creature. "But this one," I jerk my head toward Mark, "comes with me. He's mine, you see." A bold proclamation to make, but in the moment I know that the truth in those words surpasses everything I've ever said. He is mine, and saying the thought out loud fills me with courage. He squeezes my hand, two short and a long one so strong I think he might break it.

I know we’ll win.

DommeJujY. same as above, same as the next four. smutty.

Fight team AU. i forget where i got this one from. vaguely inspired by loveless i guess. The first clear thought I had was, He shouldn't have gone ahead of me. The second one was, I should have been able to protect him. But these came later, after the rage went away, after I hugged him and apologized, after I bandaged him…

Gaming meetcute. i win some contest or whatever to secretly tagteam w/ Mark. stuff happens and yeah......

The adrenaline surges through my veins as I take in the scene. Mark's avatar is flailing around, backed into a corner by some Eldritch Abomination and holy shit, the graphics in this game are amazing.

"This is not good, I can't move, I can't move…"

There's a voice in the back of my head screaming to shut the game down, to get that horrible thing off the screen. I ignore it.

Markinpanties. .......smut.

shifter-slight sci-fi AU. shrug emoji.

I looked up from the ground and saw I was heading straight for a brick wall. There was no time to slow down. I braced for impact...

It didn't happen. I opened my eyes and found myself in a café.

What.

Looking behind me, I saw a door. On impulse I walked over and opened it; the tree-lined street I could see through the glass was indeed there. No brick wall to smack my face into. Bewildered, I turned around and looked for a seat, choosing one near a window.

Gouldiplier~. master doc of ficbits of my cracky mccrackship, MarkiplierxEllie Goulding.

I check my phone during break time again. My selfie has been liked and retweeted thousands of times, and I shake my head in disbelief; I don't think that will ever stop surprising me, deep down. To make things even better, Mark's liked it! I'm in the middle of a happy jig when I realize there's a text from him and a squeak of joy slips from me.

hellooo gorgeous

looks like you're having fun. Hope the shoot's going great! <3

I quickly send a reply. it has been. Be glad when it's done tho. Missin u lots xo

Markipicbunnies. fanart of Mark for Gouldiplier insipration. photographer au.

"Ms. Goulding, I'm really not sure about this…"

"I produce pictures that are intimate because I'm an intimate being, Mark." Ellie looked at him directly, a hint of a smile shaping her lips. "Deep down, I think you are too. We just need to draw you out a bit."

showersexgouldiplier. WELP. IT’S SMUT.

Also I have folders for my 2010/11 nanowrimo novel that are kinda still WIPs but also kinda not

i’m gonna tag.... @kippielovesyou @kiridork and @mistergrass and anyone else who wants to do this can too :3

#JujYwrites #Mintyblather #i have too much stuuuffffff

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impala-dreamer · 6 years

Text

Symbols of Christmas

SPN FanFic

~Sam’s hoping with a little help from his books, he can get Y/N to feel some Christmas Joy.~

Sam x Reader, with a sprinkle of Dean

1,393 Words

Warnings: Disgusting fluff. Just the worst kind of cheesy, chocolate covered strawberry, gushy, surprisingly romantic fluffy garbage.

A/N: A little Sam for my ‘Give ‘Em a Merry Christmas’ treasure trove! This one was a request from @idreamofhazel that I twisted and turned into this fluffy nonsense. Hope you enjoy!

Feedback is GOLD ~ My Masterlist ~ Christmas 2017 Fic Corral

“I don't know, Sam…” Y/N whined and rolled her head dramatically back across her shoulders. “Christmas is just…” She shrugged and looked up at her giant boyfriend. “You don't really go in for all that Santa and boughs of holly junk, do you?”

Sam gave her a shrug and smiled shyly.

“Honestly?”

“Well, no.” He laughed. “But, a few classic traditions this year won't hurt anybody.”

Y/N laughed and nodded as she walked away. “Do what you want, but I'm not spending all of January sweeping up pine needles and pulling tinsel out of my hair.”

Sam turned his head to watch her go, his eyes and heart swelling as she laughed to herself and disappeared around the corner. So, maybe the Winchesters were less than traditional when it came to the Holidays, but Y/N brought something out of him; some deep desire to do things properly. This year, Sam told himself, was going to be different.

He took his time, shuffling through a few lore books, randomly jotting down notes on the yellow legal pad next to him on the table. Y/N didn't seem to be interested in anything tacky or Coca Cola inspired as far as Christmas decorations went, but perhaps she would approve of a more...historical setting. One passage in particular struck his fancy, and Sam tucked a scrap of paper into the crease to save for later as his mind raced with excitement.

With Dean's help, Sam set up a rather large fir tree in the Library, its deep green branches blocking the way to the big telescope behind it. Y/N gave it an inquisitive glance before shaking her head and walking on by.

“I don't like Christmas, Sam!” she said over her shoulder.

Sam merely laughed quietly to himself in response as he a fixed little white candles to each branch.

On almost every flat surface in the main rooms, Sam laid fresh strips of greenery. He festooned each door with simple pine wreaths, and wrapped the staircase in green as well. As the heat warmed each branch, a deep pine scent filled the Bunker, and even Y/N would pause with a smile to take a breath and appreciate the atmosphere.

Sam kept the tinsel away, made no mention of Rudolph or The North Pole, and slowly brought an vintage Christmas feel to their home.

Breaking out his metaphorical apron, Sam even tried his hand at a few classical Christmas recipes. He mulled wine, adding yet another layer of Christmas to the air, that quickly brought Dean to the kitchen with a hungry nose. He made a roast for dinner, with all the trimmings, and even managed to craft perfect ginger spice cookies.

Y/N watched him the entire time with a tiny smile. She had to keep up the facade of not being impressed, but Sam's efforts warmed the dark corners of her anti-Christmas soul.

“I gotta say, Sam, I kinda like it.”

Y/N stood in front of the Christmas tree, smiling at the flickering candles as Sam blushed proudly.

“Christmas doesn't have to be about commercial stuff. Most of the things we attribute to modern Christmas predate Christianity,” he began to explain, his voice taking on a professorial tone. “The wreaths, for example, are a symbol of eternity, life as a constant circle. And the evergreens symbolize everlasting life…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Dean appeared at their side with a mouthful of cookies that he mumbled through. “We gonna make with the presents? I think I killed it this year.”

Sam and Y/N both laughed as cookie crumbs sputtered from Dean's mouth.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I'm very excited for the shaving cream. I'm almost out.”

Dean tilted his head and scoffed, “What about the porn? I got you something very classy this year.” He winked and fit his fingers into an “OK” to drive his point home. “You're gonna love it.”

Y/N chuckled behind her hand as Sam turned beet red. “Well,” she imposed, hoping to save Sam any further embarrassment. “I actually got you both something, but I stashed it in my room. I'll be right back.”

She spun around to leave and Sam quickly followed, catching her arm as she stepped through the archway.

“Y/N…”

She stopped and turned to look up at Sam who smiled nervously. “What's the matter?”

Sam stammered to answer. He had rehearsed his plan a thousand times in his mind, but the action was scaring him more than he thought it would. “Uh…” He ran a big hand across the back of his neck and then let his eyes drift upwards to a bundle of fresh mistletoe that hung above their heads.

Y/N followed his gaze and let out an amused breath when she caught his idea. “Mistletoe? Really, Sam? I thought you were going traditional, not cheesy.”

“I am,” he said, suddenly finding the confidence he had been missing. The hand on her elbow slid down to fit against her hip, and Sam pulled her close as he bent his lips to hers. Y/N started to laugh, but melted against him as Sam's fingers caressed her cheek. His kiss was slow and deep, and something real and tangible passed between them. It was more than a kiss; it was his promise.

When he pulled away, Y/N stumbled forward a bit, her lips still pursed and her eyes closed. She pulled in a deep breath that drew a smile across her face, and she blinked up at Sam, mesmerized by his touch.

“I like mistletoe,” she said with a sigh.

“Me too,” Sam laughed and kissed her once more for good luck.

Behind them, Dean coughed wildly as a bit of cookie dust went down the wrong pipe. Mood broken, Y/N shook her head and patted Sam on the cheek.

“You go Heimlich your brother. I'll go get your gifts.”

Y/N flipped on the light in her bedroom and went to the dresser, pulling a gift bag for Dean out of her sock drawer. Sam's gift was tucked under her mattress, and she turned toward the bed to retrieve it.

Lying on her pillow was an old book from the Library. It was open to a page about a quarter of the way from the beginning, the passage saved with a scrap of yellow paper.

With curiosity scrunching her nose, Y/N picked up the book and scanned the page. Her lips twitched in a confused but excited smile as she read out loud, “In Greek tradition, kissing under a sprig of mistletoe is a promise to marry.”

Her heart skipped and she crushed the book to her chest. Behind her, Sam cleared his throat gently, and Y/N turned to see him down on one knee by the foot of her bed.

His face was calm, his smile relaxed. The nervousness he felt under the mistletoe had vanished, and Sam was never more sure of anything in his life.

“Y/N…” he said softly, holding a tiny gold band in his right hand. “Will you-”

“Yes!”

Y/N cut him off with a shout of joy as she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam laughed and rocked forward, knocked off balance by her sudden attack.

She kissed him hard, tightening her grip on his shoulders and pulling him forward.

“You aren't even gonna let me ask?” he whispered against her lips when she pulled away.

“You already know the answer,” she replied, staring deeply into his hazel eyes.

Sam smiled and pressed his forehead to hers. “Marry me,” he finished anyway.

“Yes.” She pecked his lips. “Yes.” Another quick kiss. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her kisses covered his cheeks, punctuating her answer, and Sam's chest swelled with a deep peace he’d never known before.

“I kinda feel bad now,” Y/N said, breaking his joy for a second.

“What?”

“All I got you was a new journal.”

Sam laughed and hugged her tight. “No,” he explained. “You got me so much more. You gave me you.”

Y/N pulled back and looked at him intently. A grin filled her face as the blood rose to her cheeks. “You know something?” She said with a laugh. “I think I finally have a reason to like Christmas now.”

FOREVERS (closed): @akshi8278 @allinhishands @amanda-teaches @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @because-imma-lady-assface @blanketmadeofstar @blushingdean @brewsthespirit-blog @brooke-supernatural16 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @cassieraider @charliebradbury1104 @charred-angelwings @chelsea072498 @chrisevansisdaddy04 @chumi-la-chula @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @crispychrissy @daughterleftbehind @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @dylanosprayberry03 @emoryhemsworth @emptywithout @erin654 @evansrogerskitten @evyiione @faithfullpanicmoon @fallenangelsneverfade @fandomismyspiritanimal @fandom-queen-of-wonderland @fangirlofeverythingme @fatalcrossbow @feelmyroarrrr @findingfitnessforme @flormolero @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @geekgirl1213 @ginasmith @grace-for-sale @growningupgeek @hair-dresses @hexparker @icequeen6666 @idreamofhazel @ilsawasanacrobat @imascreamerbabymakemeamute @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @jayankles @jessilliam-caronday @jesspfly @jocelyn-of-the-jellyfish @jpadjackles @just-another-winchester @katelynbkool @katymacsupernatural @kdfrqqg @lauren-novak @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lefthologramdeer @just-another-winchester @luciisthebest @mandilion76 @meganwinchester1999 @mery-magizoologist @michellethetvaddict @milkymilky-cocopuff @missselinakitty @mistressofallthingsgeeky @mjdoc90 @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @musicgleenerd @myfand0msandm0re @naviwhite @newtospnfandom @nichtlisax @notesfromalabprincess @obsessivecompulsivespn @ohmychuckitssamanddean @percussiongirl2017 @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @purrculiar @queen-of-deans-booty @ridingmoxley @riversong-sam @roxy-davenport @roxyspearing @samisimportant @saxxxology @sgarrett49 @sireennotsiren @skadi-winterfell @snarkpunsandsarcasm @sofreddie @sophiebobzz @spn-fan-girl-173 @spnjunky @super100012 @supernaturaldean67 @supernatural-girl97 @supernaturallymarvellous @super-not-naturall @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @theoutlinez @there-must-be-a-lock @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thinkwritexpress-official @tmccarney @trexrambling @turnttover @typicalweirdbookworm @walkingkhaleesi @waiting-to-find-myshadows @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @winchesterprincessbride @wordstothewisereaders @wotinspntarnation @xxmizzlexx

Sammy Lovers:

@akoya-pearls @bambi95-blog @blackfandomtrashandproud @blue-heaven-winchestergirl83 @french-the-llama @frickfracklesackles @jealousbitxh @jenwritesfiction @lavieenlex @melodymishahiddlestan @m0ther-of-drag0ns @niamandthings @nerdwholikesword ofloveandlonging @oneshoeshort @paleogamrgrl @pilaxia @sammy-moo @samwinjarpad @spnwoman @spontaneousam @winchester-writes @winter-in-wakanda

#spn fanfic #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #fluff #sam fluff #romantic #give em a merry christmas #its so fluffy

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thestuckylibrary · 7 years

Text

Welcome, new mods!

This week we’re welcoming five new mods to help deal with the workload of thestuckylibrary! In a new move, us librarians are telling you, the readers a bit about ourselves. Get to know your mods a little better!

Mod Karin

I’m a biro ace from Canada. I use she/her pronouns. Melancholic, a dog person, asthmatic. I’m an Art History student in my early 20s. I’m definitely an Academic™, I love research, medieval art, early renaissance art, most 1850-1945 art, talking at length about things that interest me and,Scifi and fantasy, historical fiction and writing about things. I have Beef with Greenburg.

I started shipping stucky in like mid 2013 after I binged all marvel movies in a single night after being dragged to see Iron Man 3. At that point I wasn’t into the tumblr side of mcu fandom and just read the few fics there were on AO3. However, that all changed after I saw TWS. Full tilt mcu tumblr multishipping since April that year and I haven’t looked back. I joined the library June 2015 and have been modding ever since, albeit with a bit of a break summer 2016. It made sense as a move to me- I love fanfiction, tend to mostly read stucky fic, love organization and giving recs and have experience with the idea having worked in libraries for many years.

I’m also a traditional artist. I usually work in pencil, pastels or charcoal but I occasionally work in acrylic, oil, ceramics and ink. I make fanart, you can check it out on my fandom blog @samthebirdbae! My specialty is Bucky’s glorious long hair.

Mod Annie

what’s up i don’t know how to use the cool drop down description kinda formatting bc i suck at tumblr also i hate using caps for anything. I’m a bi 18 (almost 19) year old from texas. she/her pronouns. I’m a figure skater and dancer. basically the best description for me is just child of preserum steve and natasha, as im actually very russian but im like 5'1 and have a list of health problems as long as my arm. you may or may not know me as that one black widow cosplayer who met sebastian last year and asked him to choke her. kinda problematic, i know, but also highkey awesome even though i definitely would not repeat. I’m currently not in school although I’m debating between possibly going into massage therapy or cosmetology. I was homeschooled and I grew up in like The Most Conservative christian home so i wasn’t allowed to listen to music or read books or watch any movies unless they were pre approved by my mom, and she was picky with even the stuff from the christian book store sooooo,,,, i didn’t really get into marvel or music or ANYTHING until i was about sixteen and i was finally allowed to use the internet and have a phone but after i finally watched the cap movies about a year and a half to two years ago I immediately fell in love and started shipping stevebucky. as I am a history NUT ofc my fav era is 40s pre/mid war. it’ll definitely show in my recs. I do write as well but i switch back and forth between stevebucky and harry styles fics and rn i don’t have nearly enough time to do either one between work and sports. (I am out rn over a knee injury that might end up requiring surgery so idk. maybe I’ll get The Time.)

Mod Blue

Hello, I’m a librarian from Belgium and the best part about my job is helping people to find what they’re looking for or to answer any question they might have to make their day a little easier. That goes from helping them find books and articles to helping them figure out where their class room is or how they’re supposed to make copies and prints. I’m delighted that I get to do a little more of the same here at the Stucky Library.

Mod Dee

hey friends~ my name is dee, i’m 21, and i’m from new zealand. (she/her.) i’m a history and mythology nerd and know a little too much about booby traps used in the vietnam war? oops. (i promise it’s from fic related research.) i have three cats and four dogs and a niece and they’re all like. the lights of my life tbh. i’m not currently studying, though i’m toying with the idea, now that i’ve found somewhere that actually offers creative writing as a full degree.

i started shipping stucky quite recently, like, probably early-2016, after i abruptly left my main fandom, and saw CA:TWS for the first time. it was like my eyes had been opened, and it was pretty magical tbh. i’ve been into marvel for a lot longer than that (since like 2012, i think) and ngl, my first love was tony stark. (do yall get leavers’ hoodies when you finish high school? we did. i got “stark” printed on mine in place of my own name. little did i know, that was only the beginning of my ventures in marvel fandom.)

within fandom, i’m a fic writer, and pretty much everything i write is au. (which u can find on my personal @jjjakesully if u so desire lmao) about 90% of what i read within fandom is au as well, because i like the idea of “no matter our circumstances, i’d still find and love you in each and every lifetime” and wow that sounds gooey but you get the point. this isn’t the first rec blog i’ve worked on, so like i have seen things and little of what you ask is going to shock me lmao.

Mod Julia

hi, guys! i’m julia (she/her), 24, english teacher from brazil. always tired, always anxious, always crying about stevebucky. i have a deep love for books and tiny fluffy animals.

i read my very first ever stucky fic the night after i saw catws at the theater. in an ~unforeseen turn of events, it totally took over my life. it was love at first ‘mistaken identity’ story, and i haven’t looked back since.

i’m also a fic writer! i’ve been writing for this pairing since 2015, and you can find all of that on my tumblr @hawkguyz. i’m particularly fond of AUs and tooth-rotting fluff. :D

#mod post #it's been over a month but hello!#it's us!

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impala-dreamer · 7 years

Text

Stitches and Whiskey

SPN FanFic

~Y/N patches Dean up after a rough hunt~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,164 Words

Warnings: Extreme Sass and Banter between Dean x Reader. Also Fluff. And some wandering hands.

A/N: This sprang from my question of, “Why don’t they just go to CVS and get a real first aid kit?” Thanks to @idreamofhazel and @inmysparetime0 for their help and @jpadjackles for the gif (i’m a mess tonight. lol)

Dean crashed through the motel room door, Sam in his wake, and Y/N close behind. They were drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, and dripping with blood. The hunt had gone just about as expected, perhaps with a few more baseball bats to the face than Dean would have liked, but it wasn’t anything the trio couldn’t handle.

Sam’s nose was bleeding, his lip and eye cut; dried blood stained his flannel and he ripped it off, retreating quickly into the bathroom. Dean collapsed onto his bed and slowly peeled off his shirt. A deep gash marred his upper arm, the flesh torn and oozing. Y/N gasped when she saw it, and ran to her duffel bag.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” she said as she dug through her clothes to pull out the first aid kit from the bottom of the bag.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Ya think?” He touched the cut and pulled back, wincing in pain.

“Well don’t touch it, dummy!” Y/N shook her head and set the white box down on the bed. She sat next to him and gently touched his arm, her fingers dancing around the wound, assessing the damage. “Yup, that’s a doozy!”

“Who even says ‘doozy’?” Dean scoffed, “How old are you?”

“Younger than you, Grandpa. Now, shut up and hold still.”

Dean huffed and let his head fall back, waiting impatiently for Y/N to stitch him up. She opened the kit and carefully laid out what she would need. Dean peeked down at her, “What is that?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she ripped open out a pack of gauze, shaking her head, “A first aid kit. For to administer first aid. Works much better than floss and whiskey.”

“Nothing wrong with floss and whiskey, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, I happen to know about these magical places called drug stores, and in them you can purchase medical supplies so you don’t die of sepsis after being cut with rusty, jagged pipes,” she sassed and opened the brown bottle of peroxide, holding it to the gauze pad in her hand. “By the way, when was your last tetanus shot?”

“What’s a tetanus shot?” Y/N rolled her eyes and pressed the wet gauze to his skin. He yelped like a child and pulled away. “Holy shit!”

“Relax! It’s killing the germs!” Y/N scolded.

“Why is it bubbling?”

“It’s peroxide. It does that. Now, hold still!”

Dean shook his head, his teeth clenched, his lips twisted in a deep frown. “God damn it Y/N! You’re a crappy nurse, you know that?”

“Hey! I’m the best damn nurse you’ve ever had!” Y/N dabbed at the cut and then turned her attention back to the medical equipment. She carefully chose her needle and thread, and took a deep breath, looking up at Dean. “This is gonna suck,” she cautioned.

Dean sighed, “This is why we use whiskey. I can’t drink that peroxide shit.”

Y/N took pity on him and went to the table by the door, bringing back his bottle of Jack. He twisted the cap off with his teeth and took a deep drink. “You want some?” He asked, holding the bottle towards her.

“That might help actually, it’s been awhile since I’ve done this.” Dean’s entire body tensed with fear as she spoke, but she laughed it away, “Just kidding.” She winked and took a quick sip. “OK, hold still…”

“Wait!” Dean scooted back and grabbed the bottle once more. “Maybe we should wait for Sam.”

“Dean, I know what I’m doing. Hold still.”

“Well just… I like the way he does it.”

Y/N let out a frustrated breath, “Are you kidding me? Hold still or I’ll tie you down!”

A sly smirk formed on Dean’s lips, “Promise?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Y/N shook her head and set to work.

Eleven perfect stitches later, Y/N sat back and smiled proudly. “Looks perfect.”

Dean twisted his neck to look down at her work. He gave a tiny nod of approval. “Not bad,” he praised halfheartedly.

“Not bad?” Y/N feigned shock, “It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen stitch work like this since I had my appendix out in the ninth grade.”

Dean laughed and watched as Y/N went back to the kit once more. She tore open a tiny square package and pulled out an alcohol soaked towelette as Dean looked on, worried.

“What is that?” he asked, his brows knitted in concern once again.

“An alcohol swab.”

“Whoa, I don’t need to be swabbed. What are you swabbing?”

Y/N growled in annoyance. “You are such an infant, Dean! It’s alcohol. I’m gonna wipe your stitches and make sure no nasty little germs sneak in there before I bandage you up. Good Lord, it’s like you’ve never been to a doctor or anything.”

“Hey, just because we have our own way of doing things, don’t make it bad.” Dean hissed as Y/N passed the cold wipe across his freshly sealed cut.

“Yeah and the proper way isn’t bad either, is it?” Y/N asked, titling her head up at him.

“I guess not,” he conceded, his mouth twitching as she wiped him again. “Your way hurts more though.”

Y/N softened, “Does it really?” She tossed the swab onto the floor. “I’m sorry baby.” Slowly she leaned down close to his arm. “I just want to take care of you.” She pursed her lips and blew across the cut, soothing his pain with her warm breath. “Is that better?”

“Mmm… I take it back,” he smirked, “You are a pretty good nurse. And sexy too.” Dean winked and touched her cheek with his free hand.

“You think so? Well maybe I can give you a proper check up.” She teased and placed her hand on his knee, slowly dragging it up to settle against the bulge in his jeans.

“I’d like that,” he moaned as she rubbed her palm down over his crotch. “Do you make house calls?”

“Only for my favorite patients.” Y/N leaned in even closer, pressing her breasts against his chest. Just as their lips were about to meet in that sweet, exhaustion fueled kiss they so craved, the bathroom door popped open, and a fresh-faced Sam emerged.

“Oops,” Y/N laughed, “I guess we’ll have to reschedule your appointment.” She pecked Dean’s cheek and pulled away with a pout.

“Damn it Sammy! Alone time!” Dean shook his head and pulled his shirt back on, glaring at his brother. “You ever hear of knocking?”

Sam returned Dean’s glare with one of his own, raising his shoulders in question, “What the hell, Dean? I was in the bathroom.”

Dean sighed and watched as Y/N cleared away the trash from the bed, knowing his time at the doctor’s office would have to wait until they were back at home. Grumbling, he pulled his shirt back on and sneered at his brother, “Still shoulda knocked.”

Forevers: @1-800-misha @27bmm @amanda-teaches @applepie-and-angelwings @arryn-nyxx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @buckysmetallicstump @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @chumi-la-chula @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @dancingalone21 @deadinside-muser @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evansrogerskitten @evyiione @faithfulpanicmoon @fangirl1802 @feelmyroarrrr @flowermisha @freaksforthewin @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jealousbitxh @jpadjackles @joanne-thefangirl @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @likesiriusly @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @meganwinchester1999 @mogaruke @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @overcastmisfitkid @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @sandlee44 @sarahgrace-1989 @scxrchy @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @trexrambling @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchestersmut @wordstothewisereaders @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List: @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04

#spn fanfic #dean x reader #fluff #dean winchester #dean fluff #crack

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impala-dreamer · 7 years

Text

My Job

SPN FanFic Drabble

~My story...~

Reader, Dean, Sam

800 Words Exactly

Warnings: Angsty but sweet (?)

A/N: Sometimes you open a doc and start typing... here ya go.

It wasn't exactly a choice. If it was, it wasn't one I ever had to think about. When the chips were down, when the sky was falling and the only thing between the boys and defeat was me, then so be it. I would step in front of a bullet for them. I would push them aside and take their place in the path of the speeding train. Because that's how it had to be. They were the real heroes. Not me, not really.

Sure I'd saved a few people along the way, but names and faces fade fast in the jumble that is our life, and at some point the trail of bodies behind me outweighed the folks who walked away unscathed. It wasn't my fault, I did my best, I knew that, but in the end, I just wasn't good enough. I wasn't anything special, I wasn't chosen for anything. I trudged along beside my boys, doing what I could to help them win the war.

I studied with Sam. Night after night, tucked away with him, the smell of dusty parchment filling our lungs as the hours ticked slowly by. I read from books written centuries ago by holy hands that had long since returned to the earth. I devoured texts that history professors would kill to glimpse. I learned things that no mortal should know, the words of devils and gods passing easily through my mind.

With Dean I would fight, standing back to back on the battlefield, guns held high, targets in sight. He taught me how to take a beating and jump back up, how to inflict the most damage with the least amount of force. He showed me how to bluff and plan and think my way out of almost any bind. He taught me how to survive and carry on through the hurt and the guilt despite the memory of blood that had stained our hands.

I loved each of them, separately and together. They were my family, my boys, my friends and sometimes lovers. What Dean and Sam gave to me I could never seek to repay, but I did my best to give what I could. I cared for their needs, at least ones they'd let me. From the simple homey touches that brightened their days, to the holding of hands during sorrowful nights. Whenever they needed me, I would be there, to talk them down or to lift them up. To listen for hours or silently return their caresses. We held each other close in the dark, sharing our secrets and whispering our prayers.

For years it seemed to work, the melody of our lives perfectly in tune; hunting and downtime and back around once more. We kicked ass and did good, carving out a tiny bit of safety for the people we saved in this horrid and unfair world.

But all good things must pass, and when the moment came, I knew it was mine.

I didn't think about it, didn't plan it. I didn't even realize fully what was happening until I felt the hot sting of the bullets biting through my chest, piercing my lung and knocking me to the ground. I sank to my knees, the world moving slowly as the color faded from the room. Dean caught me in his arms, cradling my head as we floated to the floor together. Sam chased the monster down, his screams muted by the roar of blood in my ears.

I looked up into my favorite pair of emerald eyes, the ones lined by thick, pale lashes and etched in the corners by a thousand smiles. Dean was shouting at me to stay awake, to hang on, but all I could do was smile. He was safe. I'd done my job and taken the hit for him. He would go on to fight the evil that lurked behind every bend, he would keep Sam safe. The Winchesters would live on because of me. The heroes of the story would live to see the next chapter because of my sacrifice. It didn't matter that I wouldn't get to see the end of the book; this tale was never mine. I was but a sidekick, a cameo if that; a helping hand along their way.

Dean cried. His tears spilled hot and fast for me as I choked on the crimson flood that bubbled up from deep inside. Sam returned to us, falling to his knees by my head and taking my right hand. Dean wiped away his tears and gripped my left. I smiled and released my final breath, letting it all go. It was OK. My job was done and I would leave this Earth from the place I loved the most: sitting quietly, nestled between my boys.

Forevers: @1-800-misha @27bmm @amanda-teaches @applepie-and-angelwings @arryn-nyxx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @chumi-la-chula @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @dancingalone21 @deadinside-muser @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evansrogerskitten @evyiione @faithfulpanicmoon @fangirl1802 @feelmyroarrrr @flowermisha @freaksforthewin @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jayankles @jealousbitxh @jpadjackles @joanne-thefangirl @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @likesiriusly @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @meganwinchester1999 @mogaruke @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @overcastmisfitkid @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @pretttypadalecki @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @sandlee44 @sarahgrace-1989 @scxrchy @significantly-insignificant @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @trexrambling @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchestersmut @wordstothewisereaders @wvnchxstxr @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List: @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04

Sammy Lovers: @idreamofhazel @mrssamfuckingwinchester @oriona75 @sastielstan @thatshellfiredean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing@tmccarney @too-much-winchester @samgirlforeverandalways

#spn fanfic #drabble #angst #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader insert #idkwtf this is

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