#i’m going to vent a little so you can stop reading here

[igotanidea]

Distraction: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Summary : You can;t get over your ex and your best friend Jason is kind enough to be your toy to distract you from those thoughts.

warnings: SMUT! MINORS DNI!!, swearing and bad night choices.

***

„Son of a ......!”

It was 2 AM. Y/N was hanging in her friend’s apartment since her own was kindly flooded by her neighbours and was currently awaiting renovation.

Yes, she was supposed to sleep, but instead she reached for that stupid phone and her stupid brain made her do things she definitely shouldn’t have done. Not only at this hour, but like ever.

“Stupid idiotic fucker!” she hissed again.

“What you doing, nerd?” Jason, freshly out of patrol and out of his Red Hood gear leaned on the doorframe observing her carefully with a stern expression.

“Don’t worry the word was not aimed at you. This time.” She smirked, not stopping angrily scrolling through the page.

Jason smirk grew even wider when he approached the couch and sat down next to her.

“Whose name are you typing…..?” he asked innocently but Y/N knew better than to fall for that.

‘None of your business…..” she muttered, but before she could finish the sentence he grabbed her phone and tossed her into the other room.

“JASON!!!” she jumped off the couch terrified by his action.

“Whose name were you typing?” he grabbed her by the waist preventing her from moving.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” her inflaming enabled her to break free from his iron grip and she rushed to the bedroom immediately to assess the damage her phone sustained “what is wrong with you!?”

Despite her anger however, she could not beat the vigilante trained skills, speed and agility, so obviously Jason beat her in the race, quickly grabbing the device from the floor and holding it above her head easily while running through her DMs, texts and social media.

“JASON!!”

He had already found what he’s been looking for but it didn;t mean he was going to surrender that fastly.

“It’s a violation of privacy!!”

He didn’t let go. If anything his grip on the phone only grew harder as he stayed silent for the moment reading something, while his face was growing darker with every other message he came across.

“Give! It! Back!” poor Y/N was significantly lower than Jason so she tried to retrieve her property by jumping next to him like a little enraged kangaroo, yet failing miserably.

“You’re not getting this phone back anytime soon, Y/N.” he put the object on the highest shelf, completely out of her reach crossing his arms and looking at her sternly “You got some explaining to do.”

“Fuck….” She hissed

He said nothing, his blue piercing eyes focused on her, knowing well enough she would break soon. He could smell the guilt coming from the girl from a mile away.

“Fine!” she threw her hands in the air in frustration plumping on the bed, ruffling the sheets in the process. “Fine! I was stalking my ex. Kind of.”

“And why exactly would you do that?” he smirked but the intensity in his tone skyrocketed to 200 %. This was serious. Y/N was his friend. His best friend and the things she’s been doing lately was not good for her mental health.  And he could not have that.

She sighed deeply and fell on the bed on her back facing the ceiling, knowing she lost this round. Once Jason set his mind to something he was not going to let go. And apparently what he said his mind to at this moment was getting the answer out of her. Obviously lying was not an option, cause he was like a human lie detector (which sometimes made her wonder whether it was another aftermath of the Lazarus Pit)

“come on, Y/N. tell me. You know I take those stuff personally.” Jason muttered falling on the bed next to her, on his stomach propping himself on the elbows so he could look at her face.

“Because my stupid mind won’t let me rest…..” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“Hey, you do realise I’m here right?” his gaze and voice softened a bit. He always appreciated when people were honest with him. “If you feel like venting, ranting or even just talking I’m your man. Just please, for fuck’s sake don’t sneak around pretending like you’re good when you do stuff that are far from good. I won’t have that”

“Yeah well my body won’t let me rest either……” she blurted.

“Your body?” he raised an eyebrow in surprise, getting a bit curious of what she was going to say next.

“Yeah and I can’t even use my toy here…..” she cut out, her eyes growing wide realising what she just said.

He smirked.

She blushed.

ShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShit…………………………………

“Oh, god… that came out wrong……”

“Oh no… please, continue.” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief

“Screw you, Todd…..” she grabbed a pillow, putting it tightly onto her face and letting out a frustrated groan. “You’re mocking very personal matters here!”

“Did you just say you’re lusting over your ex?” he grinned, not even trying to hide how hilarious this whole situation was to him.

“NO!” she jumped and sat up facing him, her face being a mix of fluster and outrage.

“Oh you so did!” his grin grew even wider

“Stop it!”

“You said and I quote – my mind and my body won’t let me rest. Can’t deny it now.” Jason scooted a little bit closer to her, clearly playing with her.

“I didn’t say I was lusting over my ex! I just…. do…… generally…..” Y/N muttered to herself but obviously he heard that loud enough.

“Oh, really?” Jason raised an eyebrow not ready to drop the teasing. “So it's a general attraction to the human body of your ex?”

“NO!”

“You sure….?” He trailed his tone changing into a bit deeper, more hoarse as he looked into her eyes.

“Yes…..?” she tried to be convincing but out of nowhere it came out a bit like a question. She couldn’t for the love of god figure out why that gaze of his got her shivering a little bit.

“So who is this person that you are attracted to…..?” he moved a little closer to her, grabbing her hand and playing with her fingers. “Do I know him, perhaps…..?” he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his breath on her face and neck making her skin tingle.

“Stop it……” she warned, closing her eyes, wanting to push him away and end that silly little game they were playing, but finding herself completely unable to.

“Stop what, princess……?” he paused pulling back to look at her again, his eyes sparkling, corners of his mouth lifting slightly at the blush creeping on her cheeks. “The flirting? The closeness? Teasing you about your ex?”

“Jace……” she almost moaned as she felt the warmth radiating from his presence, so close to her, her body aching for his touch, his kiss, caress, anything. Poor girl didn’t even realise how touch starved she was since the break-up with her ex. Not until now.

“Y/N……?” Jason asked, his voice turning a bit more caring and serious as he watched her body tense and shiver and her breath hitching. “Y/N……, princess….. “ he cupped her cheek forcing her eyes on his face “How long has it been since the break up?”

“A… a couple months…..” she breathed out, her body getting a mind of its own, much to her embarrassment. It was truly pathetic to turn into a puddle just because of a sexual teasing from Jason Todd and a few caresses. She was too old to act like a silly teenager who’s been touched for the first time. But she just couldn’t help it.   

The silence that fell between them when she stuttered those two words was deafening and she cursed herself internally. God, he wouldn’t let her live it down. He’ll make fun of her mercilessly and leave her alone to deal with the fire that’s currently burning inside her. The fire that she knew well enough couldn’t be satisfied with her toys of her fingers. And that realisation was overwhelming. Poor Y/N was barely holding herself from desperate whimpers. But she couldn’t have had Jason laughing at her current state.

“Y/N……” he whispered tenderly and she let out a gasp, shocked by both his tone and her body’s reaction to his tone. “Have you been lonely this whole time?” his hand on her cheek was slowly starting to burn and the fact that he begun rubbing her skin was surely not helping at all.

“Hmmmm…” she whimpered, her shoulders slumping.

“That definitely wasn’t a no…….”he grabbed her hand now and put it on his neck, letting her feel his body while simultaneously leaning forward to kiss her shoulder “I can change this whole lonely thing princess…..” his mouth moved a bit higher, trailing over her neck and moving to that sensitive spot just below her ear.   

“I…..I……” she stuttered and let out a single, quiet and soft moan when the tip of his tongue trailed over her earlobe, involuntarily clenching her thighs as well, already needing friction. It truly was embrassing giving herself to him on a silver platter “ah….I ….think…..”

“Yes, Y/N, baby? What do you think……?” he muttered kissing her cheek now and not stopping there. ‘Because I think your body language speaks to me pretty…well..…. “ he grabbed her other hand and put it on his chest letting her caress his still clothed body, letting her imagination run loose. Allowing all her little fantasies to come in her head. She looked so anxious of where this was going and yet so eager at the same time, not stopping him, while her fingers played with the material of his clothes.

“I…..I need some distraction…..”

“A distraction, huh? his voice dropped another octave, on purpose obviously. Jason definitely knew how to use his voice for his benefit and it drew Y/N like a moth to the flame. His hands landed on her thighs travelling up as he made sure to use just enough strength to made her feel….

“Jace……” she couldn’t hold back another moan when those big strong hands reached for the hem of her shirt, lifting it just an inch to brush over her burning skin, that instantly covered with goosebumps, shiver running down her spine. Out of pure instinct she gripped his shoulders, her whole body moving slightly forward.

“I don’t need batteries, princess…” he murmured, grabbing her waist and pulling her on his lap in one swift motion not giving her any chance to object, not that she was going to. “I can be your toy……” his lips moved to the crease of her neck and shoulder, nibbling gently, enjoying all the little whimpers and moans she was making already and loving the way she was still fighting her own urges.

Jason wanted to break her, to give her good time, but he aimed to achieve that goal in a gentle way, thought the tender convincing, exposing her true needs. His hand slid though her hair, pulling her head back a little to move along her neck, licking the skin and getting another sound of pleasure.

“Ah…mmm…Jace…. It’s late….We’re both tired….. We shouldn’t....”

“come on, baby…..” now he was biting on her earlobe “ don’t fight yourself… you want this…. You need this. And most importantly…..you deserve it…… I’ve been there too, princess….. That's no shame.....Just let it happen.....”

Oh he was right….. He was so freaking right. And he knew it.

“I can give you this distraction you so desperately crave…..” he said while slowly laying her on her back, his body hovering over her “and so much more too….” She could feel his breaths against the nape of her neck. His body shifted so that he was lying on top of her, waiting for an answer.

“No feelings involved…… I don’t need feelings…..” she moaned

“No feelings…..” he whispered, slowly undoing the first button of her shirt, moving the collar aside and brushing his nose and lips over her collarbone.

“Shit…..” her back arched immediately.

“You want to feel me…..?” he kissed her briefly, giving her foretaste before pulling away and looking into her eyes “you sure you want no feelings involved?”

“Mmhh… yes… definitely. I don’t need falling.” Y/N was getting desperate, tired of his charades and the whole foreplay. “It’s just sex, nothing more……”

“Mhm…. Absolutely…. I’m just helping you out here….. with not thinking. With distracting you.”

He brushed his lips against her ear, his breath hot on her exposed skin. “What if I say it’s more than a distraction? What if I mean this? What if I say I want you and I need you?” He paused and she could feel his fingers gently running down her neck.

„Mhmhm......” she whimpered „I don’t need feelings.....”

„Okay than baby.....” he pressed his whole body weight onto her, lips finding the pulse point on her neck biting gently making sure to leave a hickey there, tip of his tongue flicking over the sting to ease the pain a bit. „Let’s forget about feelings..... It;s just physical release” he moved his hands, down her body, tracing the skin over the hem of her sleeping shorts. „you’re so tense baby.....” he brushed his nose down her clothed torso making her shudder „so tense, but I can ease that tension.....” his mouth hovered over the place his hands were tracing barely a minute ago.

And she couldn’t form a single word, just waiting and wishing and hoping he would make that sweet promise come true for her.

„Say it Y/N......” he kissed her stomach „Just say you want this and I can take care of the rest..... Do you want this princess?” his hands dived under her shirt, travelling all the way up to her breast, smirking when he touched her bare breast, squeezing the sensitive part of her.

„Mhmm.. shit!” she could feel the heat between her legs, the evidence of her wetness on full display since her shorts did nothing to hide it.

„Do....you.... want... this?” he teased mercilessly starting to play with her nipples.

„Yes......” she finally breathed out, her mind turning off

But it was not enough for Jason. He had to hear her beg for him. He was going to do everything she wanted but had to have his fun as well. So instead of fulfilling her needs he pressed his  body more onto her, letting her feel how big and hard he already was. His lips hovered over hers, his fingers leaving her breast and moving to the lower buttons playing with them but not doing anything more than that

„That’s all I need to know, sweetness. Do you want this? Say it again.”

„Jace.....please.....”

He pressed his lips to hers, hard, brushing his hard on over her most sensitive part, smirking when she opened her legs a bit more and matched his movement.

It was only dry humping but they both knew how close to their limits of fooling around they were. Y/N was ready to beg for him and he was ready to surrender and finally shift all her attention to her body needs and not her thoughts.

„tell me you want me.....” he breathed heavily into her ear

„I..... I want you to help me out......”

„Oh, my sweet baby.... I’ll do so much more than that.....” he pulled her shorts down in one swift motion leaving her bottom completely bare, licking his lips at the view in front of him. „I’ll make you scream....” he spread her legs holding her thighs open so she wouldn’t dare changing position. „I’ll make you squirm and forget about your ex and whole world. I’ll give you the pleasure you never felt before.” he leaned leaned down and nuzzled his nose into her inside thigh, brushing it up to her most sensitive part, his eyes still focused on her, shining with lust and desire. „Tell me you want that.....” he licked the spot that was already aching for attention, the taste so sweat his eyes almost rolled to the back of his skull.

„YES!” she moaned, just that one tiny movement making her break completely.

She was lost.

Lost to him.  

„Good girl....” he muttered getting down to business.

Before she realized what was happening, her legs were already on his shoulders and he was sucking, flicking and licking in all the right places focused only on making his previous words come true. He was going to make her feel as good as never before (and probably never after). It was not his intention to show off, but she knew that with all this skill he was currently presenting, making her clit burn and her whole body shiver he was going to wreck her for anyone else.

She moaned when he pushed against her folds.

She pulled at his hair when he started to eat her out.

He buckled her hips and practically fucked herself on his face when he add the fingers and started pumping in and out in a perfect pace, slowly, methodically pushing her to the climax.  

She was reduced to the form of a moaning mess with each move, each brush, each caress.

„fuck....!” she scratched his scalp and he let out a groan sending a wave of pleasure through her pussy he was currently devouring „fuck... fuck, yes....!”

There was no more games, no more teasing. He was going to fuck her brains out. Just like she wanted, even though the poor girl had no idea what it meant when he first offered. She was going to remember his touch for a very, very long time, if not forever.

Their bodies took the steering wheel completely.

Y/N was begging and crying and sobbing.

Jason was giving and taking all at the same time, his cock throbbing in his jeans when he pushed her legs further apart and closer to her chest to get better access to her center.

God, she was delicious, Everything about her was perfect. Her body, her moans, her shivering, her pulling at his hair.... and god... her taste.

He had to keep his control to not cum in his pants at the thought he was the one making her feel like this. She was his. Everything about her was his at the moment and he was not going to waste any piece of his treasure.

It was perfect. Fucking perfect.

Except from one thing.

„Jace!!” she cried out, throwing her head back, ready for what was coming.

„No.....” he panted, pulling back and looking at her.

At that moment he didn’t look anything like the Jace she knew.

He looked like a fucking predator ready to take what he wanted.

What he needed.

And the way his eyes was so lust blown made her wanting, needy and even wetter. „No, princess. You’re not gonna come on my tounge or fingers... No..... I’m going to give you something so much better.

He practically ripped her shirt of her, exposing her completely, taking a second to enjoy her naked body on full display. Only for him. Just a second though, before throwing his own shirt away and attacking her chest.

She was on fire.

With the way he was biting all over her breasts with no mercy, rubbing, twisting and pinching her skin she just surrendered completely wrapping arms around him, digging nails into his back muscles only spurring him on with that gesture.

She wanted to beg for more, to cry, to scream his name but the intensity left her breathless, wordless, turned into a puddle with no words coming. The only thing she was capable of was panting and gasping, matching his movement, letting her body speak for her when he squirmed and flexed into his lips, tongue and teeth.

„J-J-J......”

„Yes.... I’m here baby....... Bet you could never get that with your toys, huh?” he sucked on her right nipple, twisting it with his tongue, abusing it, almost to the point of hurting but at this point of sexual drive and need she couldn’t care less, tangling fingers into his hair, pressing his head closer, wanting more and more...

He repeated the action with another nipple, making sure both of them were equally red and pebbled before releasing the other with a loud pop.

„how does that feel, baby?” he whispered „are you ready for the best part.....?” he didn’t wait for her answer, checking himself, his fingers brushing over her folds, gathering the slick and spreading it all over her entrance.

„Jace.... Jay..  please....please.....!

„Shhh, baby....” he pulled back to remove his jeans his hard and thick cock finally free, aching to dive inside her soft, warm and wet body. He grabbed the condom, opening it with his teeth while still looking into her eyes which turned her on even more and capably put it on.

He clearly had experience but it was not her worry of how many girls he had before. She only wanted his body, nothing more. That was what they agreed on.  „I told you I’m your toy...... Now you can use me.....”

Jason didn’t waste another second taking her with one movement, bottoming out with ease, stretching her so deliciously they both moaned loudly at the feeling. But there was not time to rhapsodize. This was neither love nor intimacy to take any admiration breaks and whisper sweet nothigns to each other.

This was release and they only wanted to achieve the high.

So he started pushing without hesitation. In and out, in and out, fast, hard, relentlessly, the grip on her waist becoming so amazingly painful, definitely leaving bruises. His lips ended on her neck adding to the stimulation ready to give her all of him. Jason wanted her to feel every little thing she was missing for the last couple months.

But when his mouth travelled up and collided with hers his thought suddenly changed.

It was not just sex for him.

He didn’t just want to be her toy, her distraction.

He wanted her.

The warmth of her body, the tenderness of her touch, the taste of her soft lips, her moans and whimpers, yes.

But he also wanted her love.

And it was bad.

Cause that was not what she needed.

She said it: no feelings, no falling.

And the realization that he was not going to get what he wanted made him act erratic and a bit violent.  He bit on her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, but not stopping even when the metallic taste of it invaded his mouth. If anything it only made him more predatory kissing her with desire, unspoken need and unprecedented urgency while his hips was snapping relentlessly and he kept thrusting inside her.

He could die like that from the intensity and judging by the way her body was shuddering from the building orgasm she was not opposed to doing the same.

But he couldn’t let her choke, forced to leave her mouth and allow Y/N to breathe, instead moving to kiss and bit her neck.

If he couldn’t have her as his girl he was going to take her as his lover and use the opportunity to the maximum possibility.,

„Y/n.....” he groaned biting the sensitive skin, almost ripping her throat open.

„Jace...!” she cried out in response.

She was getting so close, so close and yet still greedy for more. Each snap of his hips send the wave of euphoria through her body, the feeling incomparable with anything, her body moving in line with the pace he set. They were on a highway to release now and as we all now, you can't turn around on the highway. There';'s only one way.

Forward.

And so they did. Speeding up even more, biting, scratching, touching, going at rough animalistic pace, not caring, not thinking, focused solely on release, making the bed shake and crack repeatedly.

„Fuck....!” she moaned feeling everything all at once, raking nails down his back, arching her whole body, feeling the band inside her on the verge of snapping, her body so ready to cum. "fuck... so good....!"

„yeah... fuck indeed....” he gasped. "you feel amazing, princess....." but If she was still able to talk then he was definitely doing something wring and had to add to the pleasure.....

„AH! Jace....” he screamed when he focused some additional attention on her clit, rubbing it with the perfectly practised motion. „yes.... yes.... yes.... yes!!”

„Fuck.... Y/N......, baby.....”

„Yes...!!”

„Just let go baby.....” he breathed out. God please let her come before I finish first... Jason thought to himself.

He was never the religious one, but it seemed like this time his prayers were answered when Y/N’s body tensed and released, once she cried out his name, finally exploding around him and he wished he could fuck her raw and actually become one with her.

Maybe in another life.

This was only fucking.

And he was letting her use him until she found someone new.

But definitely not better than him.

Her body finally got what it desperately needed and he couldn’t hide the smirk while pulling out and getting rid of the condom.

However, maybe it was a good thing she didn’t see how full of his come it was, cause with her intelligence and ability to connect the dots, she would figure out that what they just did might have meant more to him than to her.

It was better she didn’t know.

Or at least that was what he was trying to convince himself of when he helped her clean herself up and wrapped her in a blanket, putting an arm around her and pulling her close to his chest.

And staying awake while she slowly fell asleep, feeling satisfied in safe in her best friend embrace.

She stopped thinking, for sure.

But his mind was only begging to work.

Against him.

But still - It was so much better she didn't know what he truly felt.

@miraculous-panic I'm sorry, I just felt the insuperable urge to post it immediately.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n

[ateliersss]

I wish I could stay in the Past

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Summary: Who would have thought that 27 years after the first Woodsboro massacre, you still couldn't live in peace? Now, you have been asked by Agent Kirby Reed to come to New York, where apparently a new Ghostface killer was on the loose. For you, this meant going back into your past and meeting the person you were trying to protect from your life since she was born. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,890

Kirby stood in front of the white board plastered with photos of every Ghostface killer from 1996 to 2022, of the masks found at the crime scenes, and of the victims killed so far.

“…Mickey Altieri, Nancy Loomis, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Number One and also the father of our chief suspect.”

Detective Bailey, arms crossed before his chest, nodded before adding, “It’s all leading us back to Sam.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Kirby suddenly mumbled, more to herself than addressing the Detective.

“What? Who’s girlfriend?”

“(Y/N) (L/N). She and Billy were childhood sweethearts. Although she was never personally involved in any Ghostface incidents following 1996 she could never quite live her life in peace. I mean, come on. The mourning love interest has to be a main suspect. His mother tried to avenge his death and no one thought about that either. Then boom! Dead teenagers everywhere.”

Bailey turned his face to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? It’s just an idea.”

“Hm.” He hummed, “It could be worth a shot.”

A totally stupid shot, because what sane person would suddenly seek revenge after 27 years? Well, if it keeps her occupied, who am I to stop her?

“Any idea on how we can reach her?”

Kirby smirked. “Of course I do.”

New York was far too loud, far too big and far too dirty for your liking. You preferred the calmness and the quiet of a nice little town somewhere far away from any crime or even the smallest hint of being dragged into another drama. You really thought you would finally be at peace, having that calm and quiet life, until you got a call from Agent Kirby Reed. You remember that name well. Besides Sidney and Gale, obviously, she was the only victim who survived the Second Woodsboro Massacre. On the phone she told you that someone had put on the Ghostface mask again and was after a group of teenagers. She wanted you to come to New York right away so you could be questioned.

It wasn’t the first time you were a suspect but being one again after almost 30 years? You were about to give vent to the familiar old feeling of simmering anger for being falsely accused again when…

“Your niece was among those who were attacked.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours.”

“That’s alright. When you arrive in New York go straight to the NYPD and tell them you are here to see Agent Reed. Someone will show you the way to the office I’m currently occupying.”

You were just about to open the car door and leave the parking lot near the police station when you got a text.

[Agent Reed]: Change of plans. Someone thinks you need to see this too. Come to this address.

So now you were standing in front of some kind run-down movie theatre, not knowing if you were ate the right place. You read the text message again… nope, still the same street name and the same house number. You were about to dial Kirby’s number when someone called your name.

“Over here!”

You turned to the blonde woman standing a few meters away from you, holding open a metal door. “Agent Kirby Reed?” You asked.

“The one and only.” She nodded for you to follow her. “Come in, the others are already inside.”

It’s strange, you thought. I’m actually meeting Samantha.

You stopped at a metal bar door that already allowed you an insight of the room ahead of you. There was tingling feeling in your belly.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your mouth to form a decent sentence.

It felt like you were pushed back into your 18-year-old-self. Mannequins, display shelves and cases were set up and lead to a stage. It was impossible to take everything in at the same time so you walked through the row that was closest to you. Years of evidence put together like it was a museum, like a fucking…

“A shrine.” Kirby said from behind you. “Dedicated to every killer that put on the mask.”

You barely registered what she just said when you saw what was displayed at the end of the row. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. There… There were Tatum’s clothes, the ones she wore when she was killed… and there was the robe Stu wore at his party… and Billy’s bloody t-shirt. You walked past a sitting mannequin looking exactly like Steve Orth until you were standing right in front of the white cloth still covered in blood. Huffing out a shaky breath, you reached out to touch it. Your fingers traced from every hole where he was stabbed until it stopped on the chest of the mannequin. You almost expected to feel a heartbeat underneath your skin…

Oh Billy.

Maybe it was the overwhelming, morbid nostalgic feeling that almost crushed you seeing all those reminders of your past, but you still hadn’t noticed the small group on the stage next to you watching you either with curious or wary eyes.

You were still caught up in your head, thinking back to that afternoon on September 28th in 1996 — you, reading another true crime novel and playing with the brown curls of your boyfriend’s hair while his head rested on your lap, napping. You two had stayed in this position until the sun went down. The clock read 6 PM when you decided to make dinner and he left the kitchen to make a quick phone call. When he got back…

“Billy, are you serious? There is a killer outside!”

“Stu lives only 10 minutes away. I’ll take the car.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know how he is.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I do and I love him for that.”

Billy tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh really? I thought you loved me.”

The smile on your face grew brighter as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do love you. So much.”

You snapped out of your thoughts.

It would have been perfect. A concerned Billy wanting to make sure his best friend was okay so he goes to his party to check on him, but is surprised by the killer. Both, he and Stu, are fighting to survive and in the end, sadly, they are the only ones still alive. The police would have believed them that it was Sidney’s father all along and you and Billy could have lived a happily ever after in another town, away from all that traumatic shit he ‘went through’.

But the reality was different. Billy had been a psychotic serial killer, murdering friends and class mates and even Sidney’s mother. He had been the one getting addicted to the feeling of killing someone after Maureen Prescott, he had been the one who had done all those horrible things…

“Kirby, who’s that?” A female voice asked.

Kirby gave you a quick look before answering, “This is (Y/N) (L/N)-“

“(Y/N)?” Gale interrupted her and watched you climb the stairs of the stage.

You first inspected each of the 9 Ghostface mannequins — your eyes lingering on the middle one a little longer — before acknowledging her. You still held a grudge against her considering how much she had turned your life upside down.

“Hello Gale. Long time no see.” You greeted her with a tight smile on your lips. “And since I was ordered here for an interrogation, let’s be honest. It’s actually (Y/N) Carpenter.”

Everyone but Gale suddenly straightened up before the teenagers of the group looked at the two girls closest to the Ghostface costume in the glass case. Both looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as if they were trying to somehow place you in their family tree.

Looking at her made you tear up. You smiled. “Hi Samantha.”

“It’s… just Sam, actually. I’m sorry, do I know you?” She asked you, confused, still trying to remember where and when she met you.

“You don’t, but I know you. Christina told me everything about you, always kept me up-to-date.” You took a quick breathe to control your emotions. “God, you’ve grown. You look so much like him.”

Sam shifted on her feet, not liking where this conversation was going. “Him? You mean my father.”

“How do you know our mom?” The short girl next to her butt in. She seemed just as wary as her sister.

“Christina is my older sister.”

“So you’re our aunt.”

“Not exactly. I’m your aunt, Tara.” You said before addressing Sam directly, “Christina called me when you found out who your real father is in those diaries.” You were really about to drop the bomb. “You know, those diaries weren’t hers… they were mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the one who got pregnant by Billy Loomis wasn’t Christina. It was me.”

Sam looked at you like you've grown a second head. “So what? You’re… You’re my mother?”

“Biological, yes. In any other way, probably not.”

“Oh my God.” She started to walk up and down with her hands gripping her hair. “Oh my God.”

“I know it’s a lot, but-“

“A lot? You just come here, a total stranger, and tell me you’re my mother when the woman who raised me all those years isn’t actually my mom but my aunt!”

“I don't expect you to replace her with me and accept me as your new mother, Sam. I’m not planning on taking you with me to force you into mother-daughter-relationship after 26 years. I’m here to help you.”

Sam’s head whipped around to look at Kirby.

“She’s on my suspect list, Sam.” Kirby shrugged, “Apparently no one thinks about the revengeful love interest.”

“But I have an alibi.” You defended yourself, “I wasn’t even near New York when the teacher and the students were murdered. Same goes to the therapist and your two friends. I actually expected being questioned at the NYPD, but if you actually want to interrogate me here, go ahead.”

“Then why are you here? This very place?”

You looked back at Tara. “Because Agent Reed told me to. From what she told me we experienced similar situations and she thought I had a right to see this too.” You looked around the room. “My past is on display here as much as hers or Gale's.”

Sam shook her head, taking a step forward. “So, just to get this straight. You get knocked up by a serial killer and then just leave the baby with your sister? You found out you were pregnant with me and dumped me because what? You didn’t want to be a mom at such a young age? Or was it because you were disgusted by me?”

Your eyes widened. Of course you expected some resistance and some accusations, but it was still like a knife to your heart to see her betrayed expression and hear her furious voice. “No, of course not. I loved you the second I held you in my arms.”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! Do you know how hard it was, living like I had to after your father died? The names they called me? And you… you were the size of a grape and they already called you the Devil’s Spawn. No one wants to raise a child in an environment like that.”

“So you just abandoned me? Left me behind so you could get away from everything?”

“I didn’t abandon you, I gave you a safe life away from every threat that could hurt you or even corrupt you. After that night when… when it all happened, my normal life was over. Either all those blase do-gooders in Woodsboro treated me like I put a Ghostface mask on and killed all those people myself, or I was viewed by these Stab-obsessed lunatics as some sort of precious artifact left behind by their idol. I was ambushed by dozens of assholes in costumes and got 3 or 4 calls a day. Even after I moved to other towns, fuck, even to another state, and I still couldn't live my life in peace. Thanks, by the way.” You turned to Gale.

“What, me?”

“The tirade of hate you wrote about me in your damn books. First the boyfriend, then the mother of the boyfriend, and then even Roman Bridger just because he was the one who stirred Billy on into going on a killing spree. You even mentioned me in your fourth book when I literally had no connection to anything that happened that year! You made it look like I pulled the strings, egged on every Ghostface, and was planning every murder, Gale.”

“No, I didn’t.”

 “Yes, you did. Just like you called Sam a born killer, you called me the secret Ghostface that got away who will someday get revenge on Sidney for killing the love of her life.”

Gale opened her mouth, but having nothing to reply with, she closed it again.

Using the following silence to return to the current problem, Chad asked, “So, just to make sure before that–” He awkwardly gestured to you and Sam “–happened. Someone killed these chucklefucks and took over?”

“Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this would be a movie this would be the killer’s lair.”

“Which means this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

Apparently that gave Tara the rest, as she left the stage with brisk steps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Sam was hot on her heels.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the group split up — Kirby joined Mindy to sit on the edge of the stage, Ethan and Chad were on different sides of the room, looking at the displayed evidence, and Detective Bailey was talking to someone on the phone.

You finally had time to walk to and look at the glass case in front of you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that the one you had loved the most in this world killed four people and thereby started a future death streak, all committed in costumes of his alter ego.

You were so deep in thought that ten minutes had passed and you hadn't noticed that Sam was back and was standing behind you.

“Are you married?” She asked, attracting your attention.

You took your eyes off of Billy’s name plate and looked into her brown ones that reminded you so much of her father’s. “What?”

Sam nodded down to your hand. “Do you have a family?”

Ahh…

“Oh, no. No, I don’t. That’s a promising ring. You know, when you promise someone to stay together forever and maybe get married one day. Do you kids still do that?”

“Yeah, when we’re like twelve, not fifty.”

You chuckled. “Ouch. I still have six years until I’m that old.” Sighing, you touched the ring and rolled it around your ring finger. “No, I was actually twelve years when… well, when your dad gifted it to me. So young and he already wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. This one–” You held the hand with the ring at eye level, “–was never ever replaced since then. His is right here.” You pulled the silver chain from underneath your t-shirt and revealed a similar ring just slightly bigger.

A shiver ran down Sam’s back, before asking in disbelief, “You kept it?”

“I did. And I know it seems like I went crazy or something while grieving, but I was young and devastated. I just lost the love of my life. Some grow distant and want to avoid anything that has to do with their lost loved one or being constantly reminded of them. Others, like me, have to hold onto every little fiber of them. I wore his clothes, put on his cologne… God, it was really a terrible way to cope.”

Sam grimaced.

You smiled slightly. “What?”

“It’s just strange hearing someone talk about him like he was…”

“Human?”

“He killed people, he was murderer, and you… you loved him.”

“Do you think it’s easy to stop loving someone in mere seconds? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? You have that person who you would die for, who you would kill for. This person is your everything, and you can’t imagine a life without them. So you plan it with that person; how you will graduate, how you will find a job, how you will leave both your parent’s houses to move together, maybe move to a new town, how you will have children with them, how you will marry them, and how you will grow old with them. Billy was my person, the one I wanted all those boring normal things with. And you have those normal things. You hold hands, cuddle, kiss, go on dates...” You stopped and took a breath. “Until the police shows up at your door and tells you that the one who had murdered your friends was him all along. There’s a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe you can visit him in prison so you can talk to him. But that won’t happen because the police tells you right after that he had been killed by your best friend, Sidney Prescott, and that they have some questions for you.”

You still remember how they interrogated you and asked you if you knew about Billy’s doings, if they were signs that seemed suspicious, asked you about the places you have been when he and Stu killed another victim and if there were people who could vouch for you. After two hours they finally let you go, saying they would call you if they had any more questions. You asked if you could see him, his body. Since his mother left, his father was nowhere to be found and Billy had no other close relatives, you were the next best option.

The moment you saw him, lying there cold and pale on that metal table, your whole world crumbled. With slow shaky steps you had walked closer and closer to him. Almost relieved for something to hold on, you had supported yourself by grabbing the table. At that moment you didn’t care who could see you or who could hear you… you just cried. Your sobs and hysterical breathing had filled the room, your knees buckling and your knuckles turning white from how hard you had clutched the table.

“No. No, no, no.”

You had started to hyperventilate. It got harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow closer.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up in a hospital bed you were greeted by a nurse who tried to calm you down. She told you, according to the coroner, you had passed out after having a panic attack. Just to make sure that was the actual reason they ran a few tests — nothing special, just the usual hospitals did when patients arrived unconscious. She had reassured you after you gave her a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, honey. The results of blood tests didn’t show anything worrying, but I can give you my congratulations. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

With Billy’s…

“You are three weeks along. The embryo is as tiny as a poppy seed, just a millimeter.”

You had gaped at her still in disbelief.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant with Billy’s baby.

Billy…

Tears had started to form in your eyes and the nurse got blurry. Again there was this feeling in your chest that there was not enough air around you and it got harder to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. Since you’re only eighteen, we called your parents. They should be here soon.”

Your mom and dad had been more or less supportive. They had always loved Billy. There had been many get-together’s with his family — barbecue, picnics, movie nights. Your parents got along well. But when Billy was revealed as the Ghostface killer, yours had cut ties with the Loomis family and sheltered you from any contact from them.

What they couldn’t shelter you from was Nancy Loomis’ surprise visit three months later. Thanks to Gale’s book — because she somehow managed to find out the reason for your visit to the hospital and because this heartbreaking twist would boost her sales — everyone knew you were pregnant. Including Mrs. Loomis.

You were still stuck deep in your depression. You went from mourning him to call everything into question — was it all a lie? Every touch, every kiss, every I-love-you, every time you made love and talked about the most intimate things — to mourning him again. You were a mess.

It was too much when Billy’s mother was suddenly standing on your doorstep. You had slammed the door right into her face when you saw who was interrupting your crying fest, but through the door she had convinced you to let her in so you could talk. Your hormones got the better of you and you opened the door. Her eyes flew instantly to your belly, but your baby bump wasn’t visible through the white tee and the blue flannel.

“You have his clothes?”

“I have all his stuff. His clothes, his posters, his movies.”

You had talked to Hank and begged him to have some of his things. He had stopped you mid-rant and said you could have everything you wanted; he didn’t want it in his house. So you grabbed everything you could. When you saw the pictures displayed in his room — of you and of you and him — you turned into a crying mess and collapsed on his bed. His pillow still had smelled like him.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember was Mr. Loomis shaking you awake, looking into your bloodshot eyes and asking you if you were okay.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to-“

“(Y/N), I asked you if you’re okay.”

You had pressed your wobbly lips together and shook your head. He had engulfed you in his arms and tried his best to comfort you. After all, you were still you and despite every negative thought and feeling he held for his son and his deeds, you were not at fault. You were still the little girl from next door he had hoped to be his future daughter-in-law. You left that day with most of his stuff carefully packed up in the trunk of your car. You knew this wasn’t healthy, morbid even — the girl who grabbed the belongings of her dead killer-boyfriend to put everything in her room to have at least a hint of his presence, a imaginary possibility of him still being here with her. Now there were even more pictures of your smiling faces on your shelf, your desk, the table next to your bed and on your walls. Your closet was fuller with the addition of his t-shirts and his jackets. His movie collection was proudly placed next to yours on your shelf.

There was also a box under your bed. When you went through Billy’s tiny walk-in closet you found a cavity hidden behind the wallpaper. Inside of it was a black costume, a Ghostface mask and a knife.

A bloody knife.

Whose blood was that?!

Before you could muster another thought you scrambled to the garbage can and emptied your stomach. When you were done you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

What were you doing? How did you not notice any suspicious change?

Well, there was this one time after his mom left. He had been so distant, strange, and there had been a dark glint in his eyes when you had cornered him after a week of radio silence. The look he fixed you with gave you the heebie-jeebies. He came around a few days later and acted like nothing had happened between the two of you.

Going back to Mrs. Loomis’ visit, you took your time warming up to her. Seeing her cry and listening to her begging you for forgiveness in Billy’s stead. Under the influence of, again, your stupid pregnancy hormones you gave in and made her a cup of tea. You two talked for hours, mostly about her son and how much she regretted leaving him behind, then Mrs. Loomis wanted you to tell her everything about what happened after leaving and what happened that night in Stu Macher’s house. When you ended your story with your pregnancy, she smiled.

“Even though he’s gone there is still a part of him with us. There is still something important I have to do, but after that I will take care of you and the little one and support the both of you in any way possible. I promise, sweetie.”

As it turned out, the important thing she had to do was to kill Sidney. The target on your back you thought had disappeared returned with Gale Weather’s second book. Again, you were harassed and threatened until you couldn’t take it anymore and you moved away. It got harder each time since you were in the last stages of pregnancy. It hurt thinking about it, but you would never put your baby into a life like this. So you did what you thought was right.

Your sister was more than happy to take her in. Christina would inherit their family’s home and would be able to raise your daughter — now your niece — safely.

Snapping out of your thoughts you continued, “Back then I was at the lowest point in my life and out of all people Sidney was the one who got me back on track. My mom and dad, your grandparents, must have asked her to come over to talk to me. I actually thought she would just turn around and walk away when she saw my room, considering it was crammed with Billy's stuff. He was in every corner of it, the man who killed her mother and almost killed her. She should be the one staying in bed, crying until she passed out. After all she’s the one who survived all that traumatic shit. ”

“Sidney visited you?”

You huffed. “Of course she did. I was her best friend. Randy and I were the only survivors out of our friend group. He and Sidney were the only ones who still treated me like a normal human being.” You shrugged. “Anyways. Sidney was there for me. At first I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see her. Inside, I knew she had no choice but to kill Billy, but I still held a grudge against her. I was afraid I would take all my anger and sadness out on her. But the second she put her arms around me, all negative thoughts disappeared and I realized how much I needed my best friend at that moment. She got me out of bed, made me go to see a therapist and kept reminding me of you, Sam.” You looked at your daughter. “I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish. I had to think of your well-being, too.”

Sam nodded in understanding and then looked around the room. “I… I'll go check on Tara.” It looked like she wanted to add something, but she apparently she couldn't find the right words.

You gave her a sanguinely smile. “You do that. When this is all over, I promise you that we can talk about everything in peace and I will answer any question you might have. Only if you want, of course.”

“I’d like that.” Sam said before turning around to go looking for her sister.

You watched her until she disappeared from your sight and turned back to Billy's costume. It didn’t even look that scary from your point of view — which might have been due to the lack of a mask — but almost 30 years ago you had thought of it differently. You looked to the Ghostface costume on the right, your eyes slowly dragging down the black fabric until they reached the name tag.

Stu.

You looked up again, scrutinizing the whole look.

You remember the first and only time you were face to face with it. Your parents were on a once-in-a-blue-moon date in a nice restaurant, leaving you alone for a few hours. They only had been out of the house for 30 minutes when you got the infamous call. You skipped to the living room, letting you dinner heat up in the microwave, and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Am I talking to (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“You could say a secret admirer.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have boyfriend whom I love very much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You giggled, lazily playing with the phone cord.

“That’s a shame, really. In that little dress you look like a girl a guy would kill for.”

The smile completely disappeared from your face as you turned to every window the living room possessed.

“What?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You abruptly remember the things Sidney had told you about what happened that night when she was attacked — the smooth male voice, the things he said that gave her the chills, him in a black robe and a white ghost mask, trying to kill her.

Before you could think twice you slammed the telephone handle on the hook.

“Okay, okay. Just relax. Just some weirdo trying to scare you. It doesn't necessarily have to be-”

You shrieked when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus.” With a hand pressed against your chest, you walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Billy, is that you?”

There was no other possibility than him, considering you casually mentioned to him that your parents weren’t home with a mischievous smirk on your lips. This time he wouldn’t have to sneak through your window. You were just opening the door, pondering whether you should tell him about the weird call or not, when you were met with a white ghost mask.

Screaming, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You could hear his body colliding with the door, kicking against it, trying to open it. You didn’t even think about waiting for him to successfully gain access and ran up to your room. You locked the door of your room too before grabbing your cell phone and dialing Billy’s number.

“Billy, please. Billy, please. Pick up, please.”

You ran to the window that was facing Billy’s. His room was completely dark.

You let out a whimper. “Come on, Billy, please. Please pick up.” Tears streamed down your face. When you heard the door slam against the wall downstairs, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

“(Y/N)?”

Relief washed over you. You swirled around, seeing Billy standing at his window with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Billy…” You tried to control your breath. “T-There is someone in the house… the killer. He is wearing the mask Sidney told us about. He is… He is…”

You watched your boyfriend disappear, presumably running out of his room to get to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Is your door locked?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Push your dresser in front of the door and hide in the closet. Stay there until I tell you it’s safe. I’m coming, baby, you hear me?”

You heard him skipping down the stairs, listened to his reassuring words.

“I-I’m scared, Billy. I don’t want t-to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. Just do what I told you. Now!”

Nodding, you ran to your dresser and pushed against it with your whole body weight until it was in front of your door. Next you ran to your closet, pulled open the door, closed it and crouched in a corner far back against the wall.

“I’m in the closet.” You whispered and when you got no answer you added, “Billy? Bill-”

You were interrupted by a loud “Hey!” and something that sounded like fighting noises. Whimpering you fought with yourself — on the one hand you wanted to disobey Billy’s wishes and help him out of concern that the killer might hurt him; on the other hand you wanted to do what he told you and stay hidden.

Meanwhile, Billy was seething as he grabbed his best friend by his collar and forcefully pushed him against the wall in the narrow floor leading to your room. He pulled down the mask and revealed Stu’s jolly face.

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? (Y/N) is off-limits!” Billy whisper-yelled, pulling Stu lightly to himself before slamming him hard against the wall, not releasing his grip.

Stu groaned. “I just wanted to scare her a little. I thought it would be funny.”

If he weren't Billy’s best friend and if they didn't have big plans ahead of themselves, Billy would have strangled him by now. He tried to channel his rage and took a deep breath before saying, “Listen, dipshit. She. Is. Off. Limits! Killing your ex? I’m in. Her new boy toy? No problem. But keep your fucking hands off of her or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and push them down your throat, got it?”

Stu gulped and nodded, his big smile morphing into a smaller one. He wasn’t scared of Billy, but Stu had to admit that there were some moments when his aggressions got worrisome.

“Now get out!” Billy hissed and let go of Stu. He waited a moment before knocking on your door.

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, he’s gone.”

There was shuffling behind the door and a minute later you ripped it open and flung yourself into his arms. Billy was shushing you, caressing your back while listening to you crying. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He kept saying.

When your breathing calmed down, he pulled away from you and placed his hands on both of your cheeks while looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You mumbled, “Without thinking you ran into a house with a killer in it.”

“The only thing I could think in that moment was you.”

You slightly shook your head with a small smile. “You’re so cheesy.”

Billy huffed a laugh before turning serious again. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I was fast enough to close the door, ran upstairs, lock my door and hide in the closet just as you told me. There won’t even be bruise.”

“Good.” He nodded and kissed you forehead. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You, of course, had no idea what happened that evening outside of your room. You didn’t know about the lengths he would go for you to keep you safe. You didn’t know he would have killed for you. You didn’t know that Billy’s feelings and his love for you were genuine, something you truly questioned after the things Sidney had told you about that night. You didn’t know that he felt scared when he realized that his plan was failing and he maybe wouldn't be able to see you again. You didn’t know that you were his last thought before he was shot in the head.

#scream #scream movies #scream 6 #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

[neoyuno]

No Biting ♡ J.JH (M)

Jaehyun is tired after a long week of working on the preparations for his new album and finds comfort on you—literally; or, jaehyun treats your boobs as his personal stress squishies.

Pairing | Idol!Jaehyun ♡ CelebCrush!Reader

Genre | Comedy, Romance, Smut (breast play + him being needy abt it, dirty talk, switch!jaehyun, choking, saliva play? (i still don't know how to label this, but sex too good they drooling...), riding, lots of kissing, praising.)

Word Count | 3.8K

Reading time | 19 mins

Warnings: usage of curse words, explicit descriptions of sex, afab reader. not my best work imo, but i hope y'all like it nonetheless <3 thank you for liking my stuff so far <33 // also, wrote rino in bc i love her sm, I’d also appreciate any type of feedback :’)

“Okay, that’s it for today, guys. We will continue with the rest of the choreography tomorrow.” The lady in front of them said. “Now, rest up and take care! Love ya!” She blew them all a kiss and left the studio.

All 10 men laid around the room, visibly exhausted as sweat glistened on their blushed skin.

“I can’t wait till this comeback is over… it is so tiring.” Taeyong exhaled and drank from his water bottle.

“Tell me about it, I had a recording session with _____ last night and I kept messing up. I feel so bad for her, we had to be up till 3 am.” Mark replied.

“She’s so sweet about it, though. She deserves a prize for being the best producer ever.” Taeil chuckled and everyone else agreed.

“And the best host too, her food is so good, I don’t miss hotels at all.” Yura added.

Jaehyun couldn’t help but smile at the sweet words his friends said about you. You were indeed the sweetest and he was utterly and crazily in love with you. They have never worked with someone as good and patient as you. Not only do you do a great job with their songs, you always teach them new things—and let them stay at your house whenever they are in town.

“Are you coming with us or will you stay?” Jaehyun opened his eyes at the sound of Johnny’s voice.

“I think ______ is still here, I’ll leave with her.” He replied and the older guy nodded. “She said to make sure to put the code before you go in the house or else the alarm will go crazy.”

“Got it, see you later, man.” Johnny waved him goodbye and left with the rest of the boys.

Jaehyun laid on the floor for a few more minutes, enjoying the cool air coming from the vent right above, before gathering his stuff and making way to the floor above.

He entered the studio to see you sitting down at the mixer, eyeglasses on, and messy hair.

“Hi baby, are you still working?” He asked and kissed your head before grabbing a chair to sit next to you.

“Yes, sweetie. I am having a bit of trouble with this song. I can’t remove this weird rumble from this track, I might need to replace those mics already.” You said and pressed play again on the small clip. “I might need to re-record this.”

“Who’s track is it?” He asked and leaned to look at the monitor, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yours.” He whined playfully and hugged you tight. 

“I’m tired…” he pouted and you reached back to pet his hair.

“You don’t have to record right now, baby. We can hook you up in the studio at home. It’s just this minute-long track, so don’t worry.”

“Okay~~” you felt his lips touch your neck and his hands moved dangerously close to your underboob. “Soo, can we go home? I want to cuddle…”

“Not yet, love. I still need to work on this song.” You shivered when his fingers softly massaged your breasts. “Jaehyun…”

“Hmm?” He kissed your neck repeatedly.

“Jaehyun, stop that. I am working.”

“But, baby… they are so soft,” he squeezed. “So pretty…” 

“Jaehyun.” You warned again.

“Ugh, please…” he pouted again and turned your chair to face him.

“Dude, what’s up with you today?” You asked, getting a little annoyed at his clinginess when you needed to work—but it secretly made you melt. To be honest, you did need a break but you were too stubborn.

“I miss you.” He cupped your face and kissed you a couple of times.

“Jae, you are staying at my house. We see each other every day.”

“Okay, that’s still not enough.” He pouted and kissed your lips again.

“Not enough? What else could we do?” You giggled and he hummed. 

“Lemme move in with you…”

“Jaehyun, you live in Seoul… I live in California…” you stared at him with an unamused expression.

“So? I’ll move here.” He shrugged.

“Yeah? What about your career?”

“I’ll quit being an idol and become your house-husband.” He smiled cheekily and kissed you again. 

“Will you wait for me at home wearing sexy lingerie?” You joked but he blushed.

“I-uhm, I mean, if you want me to…”

“Hmm, interesting… Good to know…” you pecked his lips and turned back around to face your computer.

“Ugh, pay attention to meeee,” he whined and tried turning you around but you locked your feet on the chair base. “Pleaseeeee…”

“Jaehyun, I’m gonna kick you out and make you wait in the car.”

“Let’s just cuddle for 5 minutes.” He said. “Just 5 minutes, please?”

You sighed and turned around. His cute face always lets him get away with anything he wants, it’s like he bewitches you into saying yes. To be honest, you are just too in love with him to deny him any love—and he needs lots of it. All the time.

“Fine, just 5 minutes, Jeong.” He did a happy dance and dragged you to the sofa.

“You are so warm and cuddly. I love you, my little teddy bear.” He kissed you all over the face and hugged you tight while you groaned jokingly.

“How was today, baby?” You asked after he settled down.

“Tiring, we had some fittings and also dance practice for the video shooting next month.” He said

“You work too hard, love.” You hummed and kissed his lips.

“Can I lay on your chest?” He asked bashfully and you chuckled.

“Of course, beautiful.” He blushed at the petname and settled his face between your boobs, the side of his head laying on one of the plush mounds.

“So soft…” he sighed.

“Are you okay, hun?” You asked while stroking his hair.

“Yeah, I’m just very tired and stressed. I’ve been having a very bad shoulder ache for the past few days too.” 

“Awe, baby, why hadn’t you said anything? I’ll give you a new pillow tonight. Do you want me to give you a massage?” You asked and kissed his head.

“No, angel, it’s okay. But I know something that will help me with my stress.” He smirked cutely at you and you felt his hands lift your shirt up. 

“Jaehyun.” You scolded but he whined. “Ugh, fine… just cause you need it, but just that and nothing more. I have a session tomorrow morning and I can’t have a filthy sofa in my studio.”

Jaehyun moved to hover over your body, kissing your lips before moving back to pull down your shirt. 

“Hmm, so pretty.” He whispered and kissed you again. “You’re so beautiful.”

You looked up at him, his eyes staring down at you. You reached up to pull him by the neck, clashing your lips unto his.

His lips engulfed yours perfectly as you sighed lovingly, making him smile. He absolutely loved hearing your love sighs, they made his heart flutter. Ever since he first kissed you and you sighed, he was hooked—he already was, but he knew he was done for when he heard the pretty sound.

“Let me take this off…” his fingers worked to unclasp your bra from the front, your breasts springing free once the last clasp was undone. 

You watched intently as he licked his lips, before dipping in. His mouth automatically latched to your nipple while his hands pressed your boobs together.

“Mmm…” he hummed against your skin. 

He closed his eyes and his eyebrows knitted up while he sucked on your chest. You couldn’t help but stare at his hollowed cheeks swallowing your nipples. 

“So squishy…” he groaned before poking his tongue to play with your glistening buds. He alternated between teasing one and the other.

His hands squeezed your boobs again before his thumb and index finger moved to pinch your nipples. Twisting and tugging, he got them to be hard and blushed.

You just laid there, staring down at him being mesmerized by your tits. He was absolutely obsessed with your boobs. Whenever he was stressed he would just come to you and start acting all clingy until he eventually ended up under your shirt choking on your boobs. 

A hard tug on your nipple made you snap out of it when you felt a slight pain. Teeth. He had bitten you.

“Jaehyun. No biting.” 

“I’m sorry, angel. I couldn’t help it.” He whispered and kissed the skin he had bit. 

You stared as he poked out his tongue again, licking your areolas in circular motions, before licking your nipples. His strong hands kept kneading your breasts and you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

His mouth suddenly sucked both nipples at the same time when he pressed your tits together, making you gasp a little.

“Are you okay, baby? Did that hurt?” He asked worriedly, the corners of his mouth glistened with his own saliva and you couldn’t help but giggle. “What’s so funny?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was just thinking about how shy you were when we first met and look at you right now.” You smirked playfully.

“Look who’s talking. The girl that went from teasing me because I liked her to begging for my dick.” He replied and you scoffed in surprise.

“As if! I don’t beg!” You smacked his arm playfully.

“It’s okay, don’t be shy. We all know you love it.” He argued and hovered your body, his face now leveled to yours. Jaehyun couldn’t help but stop and admire you. Messy hair against, your flushed skin, plus your cute specs resting on the bridge of your nose—it was just such a sight to see.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You whispered, the fact that you had your whole chest out was long forgotten.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

“I don’t look pretty right now.” You said.

“You look gorgeous. You always do.” Your heart skipped a beat when his lips pressed on yours. It was crazy how Jaehyun made you feel. No one had ever made you feel as loved as he did. Sure, you had many people calling you beautiful, praising you, and showing their love for you, but the sparkle in the dimpled guy’s eyes whenever he looked at you made you feel like the most special person on earth.

“Let’s go home.” You whispered against his lips and he nodded.

You both stood up and he gathered your belongings while you turned off all studio equipment. Just as you were about to open the door he yanked you by the arm.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Your… let me put it back on.” He said bashfully as he blushed and reached to clasp your bra on and lift your shirt back up.

“Oh my God… I was about to leave with my tits out?!” You hide your face on his chest. “This is your fault.”

“Okay, I actually take the blame for this. I had forgotten about pulling your shirt back up.” He smiled cutely. “Your boobs are just so nice… I want to see them all the time!”

“Shh, be quiet.” You whispered as you entered your house, Jaehyun practically clinging to you as he tried to kiss your neck.

“They are all asleep, none of us are light sleepers, so don’t worry…” he replied and locked the front door before removing his shoes and running after you to your room.

Jaehyun closed the door and locked it. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, as you changed into your satin nightdress. He reached to press the small device on the wall, turning on the soundproof system. 

“Really, Jaehyun?” You deadpanned.

“Hey, you get loud sometimes.” He said and removed his shirt, tossing it in the basket by the closet’s entrance.

“And who said we are having sex?” You teased. “Plus, the loud one here is you.”

“Hmm… then why did we come home?” He dropped his sweats and tossed them where his shirt was. You tried your best not to stare at him much—the sight of him in only his black tight underwear and that damn silver chain was absolutely knee-dropping.

“Because you were right. I need a break.” You said and put your glasses back on, ready to read a bit. 

“What are you reading, then?” He asked and grabbed his towel.

“My new mixing console’s manual…” you replied.

“Babe, you need to stop. Watch some t.v or something. You worked all day.” He passed you the remote control for the t.v after pressing the button for it to come down from his hiding place in the ceiling.

“And don’t watch any music-related videos. You can do all that tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead and you groaned.

“Fine.” You huffed and looked for something to watch.

“I’ll be back, I’m just going to take a shower.” He said and saw your pouty face. “Give me a kiss.” He leaned in.

“No.” You huffed again.

“Fine.” He was about to leave to the bathroom when you grabbed his farm.

“Okay, come back! Just one kiss.” You smooched his lips and he smiled widely.

“I love you, my grumpy baby.” He chuckled and left to shower.

Jaehyun came back to see you laughing at a comedy movie you found on Netflix. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laugh. He was deeply and madly in love with you.

You felt the bed dip on his side, making you turn your head for a second.

“You smell good.” You said while staring at the screen.

“Hmm, thanks?” He chuckled and leaned closer to you. 

Jaehyun stared at your bare shoulders and then down to your chest. The satin fabric was thin enough to let him see that your nipples were still hardened from before. You felt his lips press on your shoulder, slowly moving up your neck. 

His hand moved to cup your boobs, massaging them.

“I shall continue where I left off…” he said before pulling the straps of your nightdress down, revealing your breasts.

His mouth quickly attached to your nipples as he laid his head on your lap. Jaehyun’s tongue worked around your nipples and occasionally sucked them in.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head when you looked down at him. He was like a baby, his mouth latched on your left breast and his hand kneaded the other while his eyes were closed.

“What would your fans say if they found out their sweet Jaehyun is obsessed with sucking boobs?” You asked and ran your finger through his hair as he opened his eyes.

“I’m not obsessed with sucking boobs…” he said after pulling on your nipple and lapping it after. “I’m obsessed with sucking your boobs. There’s a difference.”

“What happened to my sweet shy Jaehyun?” You fake cried and he chuckled. “Who is this pervert, huh?”

“Me? A pervert?” He rested on his hand to be at your eye level and feigned offense. “What would your fans think if they knew their sweet ____ was obsessed with my dick?”

“Babe… I write songs about sex. Everybody knows I love dick, they just don’t know who’s.” You rolled your eyes and he laughed before pecking your lips.

“You look so cute with your glasses on…” he smiled and kissed you again.

“Yeah?” He hummed in response and kissed down your neck.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked as you stroked his hair.

“Yeah… but you look too good…” he bit your collarbone and kissed it after.

“Lay back.” You said and he immediately did as you said. 

Jaehyun laid back on the plush new pillows you had brought out for him. As you straddled his lap, you reached down to completely remove your nightdress, his hands quickly holding your waist and sliding down to your ass.

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered and you giggled while grinding down on him.

“You were too cute not to fall in love with.” You leaned down to kiss his lips and he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss.

“I love you so much,” Jaehyun said and hissed when you pressed further down on his crotch.

“I love you more.” 

You kissed down his torso until you got the waistband of his underwear, which you removed quickly and tossed to the side before removing your own. Reaching over to the nightstand, you dimmed the lights and turned on the starry ceiling lights. 

The lighting change made his eyes look like they contained the stars and the whole universe—and they really did (for you).

“Do you want to use a condom?” You asked as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “I’m on the pill.”

“I want to feel all of you…” he replied and you smirked. 

The man beneath you shuddered when he felt your hand touch his sensitive erection.  “Why are you always so horny?” You teased and he kissed your lips.

“How can I not, when I have the sexiest woman in the whole world as my girlfriend?” He whispered.

“Oh yeah? I’m the sexiest?” He hummed in agreement. “Mmm, that feels so good.” You moaned when his hand came down to grab his length and teased your entrance with the tip.

You slowly sank onto his cock, the size filling you up deliciously as you both moaned in unison.

“You feel so good, love.” He groaned.

Your knees supported you as you bounced on his lap slowly and your hands rested on his bare chest. Goosebumps arose on your skin as he caressed your body ever so softly.

“Ah! Mmm, Yuno…” he grunted at the sound of his name leaving your lips in that way.

He absolutely loved it when you called him that, given that not everyone calls him that, it makes it even more special. 

“If you get tired, tell me, kitten.” He husked and you felt warm at the mention of that damned petname.

“Stop…” you breathed out sheepishly, which was cut short and into a moan.

“Stop what, kitten?” He smirked and bit his lip for a second before groaning loudly as your center engulfed him tightly.

“Stop calling me that.” His hands grabbed your hips sternly and his hips pushed forward. “Fuck! Jae- ah!” His hips remained thrusting up, your mouth hanging open at the feeling.

“Such a good kitten, aren’t you, baby?” He growled and wiped the small trail of drool falling past your lips. “You look so pretty like that… hmm…”

“Is it that good that it’s got you drool- hng-“ his voice was cut short when your hands were placed on his neck, softly pressing on his throat.

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes were closed and his mouth open in a smirk. 

He enjoyed every second of your hands cutting his oxygen, the rush made him even hornier. Plus, he loved feeling your small hands on his neck, it was thick enough for you to need both hands to choke him. 

“S’good…” he choked out as one of your hands left his throat to swipe out a little bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Look who’s drooling now… pussy too good?” You teased.

Jaehyun couldn’t do much but hum and moan when you leaned down to bite his lower lip. His hand moved to grasp at yours that was on his neck, giving you the signal to stop. You removed your hands and he inhaled sharply, in need of oxygen.

“Don’t- fuck!” He whimpered when he felt your walls clench around his shaft. 

“Don’t what, baby?” Your hands took place by each side of his head, making your tits bounce close to his face. “Kitten ate your tongue?”

“Oh, God!” You wiped a bit of sweat on his forehead with your fingers and quickened the pace your hips were snapping to. “Kiss me, please.”

As you leaned down to do so, he took advantage of your hands not having any support, and flipped you over by the waist. His mouth attached to yours still, flicking his tongue on your lips.

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You screamed against his lips. Your boyfriend’s hips slammed into you rapidly.

“Do you want to get me in trouble again? Huh?” He grunted as you moaned louder—reminding you of the last time you choked him, he had lost his voice and got in trouble.

“As if you don’t like it…” you smirked but a sharp thrust made your smirk fade into a whine.

“You’re right. I don’t like it… I fucking love it.” Jaehyun kissed your jaw and down your neck until he reached his favorite spot—your shoulder blade, where he sunk his teeth to leave a mark. “Shit-“

“Stop biting!” Your fingernails dug on his back and his head fell to your chest, his hands gripping at your tits and mouth sucking your sensitive buds.

“I’m so close, baby…” you cried out after a few seconds.

“I’m close too, kitten. Fuck you feel so good.” He shut his eyes again and bit the skin of your breasts, coming up to kiss you after.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.” He murmured against your cheek, yet in your ears, it sounded like he was far away.

“Mmm, Jae-“ your toes curled up once you wrapped your legs around his torso to feel him deeper.

“Let go, sweetheart.” He rasped and you did as he said with a loud moan.

You felt yourself dissolve into the pleasure he was giving you. A ringing noise filled your ears mixed with the faint sound of Jaehyun’s low moans, while you could feel his cock pulsating inside you as he came.

The weight of his body soon fell upon yours, but it just felt like the warmest hug ever.

“I love you,” he repeated countless times as he kissed all over your skin.

“Don’t move,” you whined. “Just hug me.”

“Of course, pretty.” He circled his arms around your waist and rolled you over to lay on his chest, where you stayed for a couple of minutes, listening to his heartbeat.

“Don’t your shoulders hurt, baby?” You asked, remembering the muscle pain he voiced out earlier.

“Mmm, yeah… but you make me feel better.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Do you want to take a shower again?” You asked and he only laughed. “I’ll give you a massage if you wash my hair.”

“You don’t need to bargain with me, you know I’d do anything for you for free.” He said and sat up, bringing you up with him. “So… about moving in with you…”

NEOYUNO 2022

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #smut #jaehyun scenario #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun au #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 reactions #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

[the-doomed-witch]

✦ You’re An Idiot & I Love You

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Thanos, you and Wanda quit the team to live a peaceful life together, trying to leave behind the trauma. (Read warnings)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: hello here’s another fic, i’ve been working on it since almost a week :) i cannot stop listening to 305 by shawn mendes so i based the latter part of this fic on the song <3 the initial part is just a vent fic lmao. i’m thinking of writing a part two, but i don’t really know. my gif btw!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS+MEN DNI. traumatic past events, post-war trauma, flashbacks & nightmares, smut, thigh riding, fingering, praise kink, names (princess), a little angst, fluffy | best friends to lovers

Masterlist

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK.

— ✦ —

You hit the pause button on your phone, look at the clouds and sigh. The park near your home is an amazing place to be, with all its flora, and a clearer view of the sky. Cities are so full of buildings, it’s almost impossible to see a clear sky outside the park anymore.

Whenever anxiety comes over, sitting on the park bench and listening to white noise helps you calm down. It also helps Wanda know where to take you when you aren’t at your best.

Sometimes she would hold your hand and sit next to you, listening to the same sound in a different pair of headphones. It’s truly therapeutic for both of you. The events of the past few years have been deeply disturbing for the entire team of Avengers. So you and Wanda decided to quit the team, and swore that both of you wouldn’t never exercise your powers again. Of course, there could be exceptional cases where the use of powers is ultimately the only way, but it’s mostly nothing to do with your simple lives.

Wanda goes to a therapist sometimes, and has offered you to try it out too, several times. You just deny with a simple shake of your head, and keep the topic aside. You’re happy to see her get better, settle her unsolved traumas, and accept Vision’s death.

“I knew you’d be here.” Wanda walks up to you, which is also the reason why you clicked the pause button. You give her a sincere smile, which she returns happily.

“Guess I’ve developed a little longing for this place. I can’t help but be here, I feel the safest here when you aren’t around.”

“Oh Y/N, you know I always come back home and always will. You’re my best friend, and the only one. I’m so happy that living together has worked out for the both of us.”

“So am I, Wands. I know I don’t have to run around the compound looking for you anymore.” Smiling with melancholy, you continue, “I miss bumping into our friends while doing that.”

She sighs deeply. There are memories of Vision in her mind, but they don’t feel like a dagger anymore. They are just bittersweet feelings for a star-crossed love. “Y/N, it’s been years since we left the team. Do you think they miss us? I wish we had parted with no hard feelings.”

“I think that it’s fine. It’s been years, nothing big has happened. And I hope it only stays this way. I don’t care if someone is still pissed off after so long, the war damaged us just as it did them, and we are still recovering.”

“But Y/N… you’re just refusing it all. There’s no point in being delusional. It’s affecting you, and your mental health in a really bad way.”

“I know but I cannot help it Wanda! I have had nothing before the Avengers, I don’t even know what I am grieving for. I haven’t had anyone to go home to since forever, and now that I have it, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Not even for friends who’d have hard feelings against me after I choose to live a life post-war.” You feel like you’ve spoken too much, because you feel like tearing up.

Wanda comes closer to you and hugs you tight. “Y/N, honey, it’s okay I’m right here.”

You sit there with her, since there’s nothing else you can do right now. For several minutes, none of you loosen the grip, too scared that either of you could turn to dust.

— ✦ —

On the way back home, you hold hands like little kids. Living with your best friend has got to be the best decision you’ve ever made. Feels like she holds a key to the corner of your heart that nobody has dared to discover.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” she moves closer and sits next to you on the couch.

“Nothing, just that you’re probably my favourite person in the whole world.”

“Stop being so cheesy and tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth. I love being with you Wanda, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Your existence lights up mine. I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

You give her a kiss on the cheek, and reply, “I will not leave you, ever.” After being through all the devastating events together, you’ve both developed quite a habit of sitting together in silence and thinking. Snapping out of the state, you go to your room to sleep. Or maybe just lay down. Wanda remains in the living room.

— ✦ —

It’s almost 4:30AM and you haven’t slept. Thoughts about Thanos, his army, your teammates, Natasha, and Tony come back. Illusions of blasts, gore and doom fill up your mind. Countless number of people have lost loved ones.

Maybe, just maybe, you could have done something to save your friends. Resentment and regret feel like two old friends who come to lay down next to you.

Wanda is in her room, you can sense her sleeping. It would be a good thing to have someone to talk to, but not that great if you’d have to wake her up. Eyes open, you go back to staring at the ceiling. Tears begin pooling in the corners of your eyes, ready to roll down any moment now.

Silently, you sniff away the mildest nightmare of the night.

— ✦ —

You sit at your desk a couple of hours later, and begin writing something that you don’t know. “Good morning. You're up early?” Wanda walks in. She’s still wearing her shorts and tank top. And she looks damn fine.

“Good morning. Also, what do you mean by ‘up’?” you reply back sarcastically.

“Oh well, don’t tell me you stayed up all night. Now come here, you desperately need a morning hug.”

“You’re a hundred and ten percent correct.”

You get up and go hug her closely. She rubs your back and whispers words of reassurance in your ear. You just hold her and smell her messy hair. You’re sure she used your shampoo but it only makes you want to hug her tighter. After letting go, you look at her face adoringly and tell her sincerely, “You look pretty. So pretty.” She blushes and pushes your shoulder lightly, as a friendly gesture.

“Stop teasing me! I haven’t even had my coffee yet. I’m gonna have to sound mad at you if you make fun of me right now.”

“You think I’m joking? You look fucking gorgeous. Not even kidding, I’d kiss you if we were toge-” You regain consciousness and regret saying anything at all. Should’ve told her I’m being satirical for no reason, you think.

“What was that you said?”

“Nothing.”

“No no, you said something. Say it.”

“Uhhhh that I was making fun of you for nothing. Go tie a bun or something.”

“Did you just say that you would kiss me?”

“What?! No!”

“Okay, if you say so. I don’t trust my ears anyway.” She simply walks out of the room with an air of smugness.

During breakfast, she asks you a question you never expected, but should’ve seen coming. “But like, let’s say hypothetically, would you kiss me if I asked you to?”

You almost choke on the toast. “Wanda, let me have my breakfast in peace. Please.”

“Another question, who would you kiss? Who is your type even? I’ve literally never seen you talk about this in almost over a decade of our friendship. Come on, Y/N, there’s got to be someone.”

“No Wanda, I don’t have a type. If someone is for me, they’re for me. There’s no one that I like right now.”

Her face grew serious and her smile faltered. “You know I can read your mind if I want to, don’t you?”

“I know that. I also know you wouldn’t break a promise to know about a possible date of mine or something.”

“Fine, you win.”

— ✦ —

You’ve been in the park almost all day again. But your mind has been thinking of something else today.

Why did I even say that at all? Would I even kiss her? Would she kiss me back at all? She probably still misses Vision. She literally loved him so much, they were perfect together. No, I shouldn’t even think of this. Especially when Wanda loved Vision so much, and probably still does. But then again it’s just ‘probably’. SHUT UP Y/N.

Screw this. I don’t want to kiss her at all. Never ever.

— ✦ —

“Well you came back quickly, I didn’t even have to come to the garden to bring you back. That’s new.”

“Yeah I guess?”

“Too tempted to kiss me, aren’t you honey?”

“Can you please stop with that Wanda? I don’t even know why I said that at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause awkwardness between us. But you’re kind of amplifying it and it’s making me uncomfortable. Can we just not do this? You simply looked gorgeous, that’s all. And I’m not the one to kiss someone just because of how they look. Just leave this.”

“Oh-uhm, okay Y/N. I’m sorry, let’s not make anything uncomfortable for either one of us.”

Wanda seemed deeply hurt by your evidently irritated reply. For a moment, she also felt terror-stricken. It was a side of you that she had seen, but never faced before.

“Thank you. Do you need some help with dinner?”

“Nah it’s almost ready. You might want to set up the table though.”

“Most certainly.”

— ✦ —

The following week is all the same. Everything is sort of normal. Morning comes, you have breakfast with Wanda, you go to the park, Wanda comes to pick you up in the evening, you both have dinner, go back to your own rooms, and you grieve.

A parcel arrives in the mail. It’s addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” and you’re quite unsure how that feels like. Wanda takes notice of it, but says nothing. You kind of wish she’d say something about it. Wanda makes mention of going back to her chores, but you ask her, “Don’t you want to know what’s in the box? I mean, they could’ve mistaken either one of our names.”

“Not really, you can go ahead and open it.”

It was a real bummer. You feel guilty about her attitude towards you. You know something is definitely off with Wanda. You sure have had fights and arguments with her before, but none of them have made her turn away like this. You keep the box aside and decide to open it once Wanda starts talking to you again.

I mean, we are talking but you know what I mean, you tell yourself. And find it stupid. However, the rest of the day continues.

You decide against going to the dear park today, considering how pissed off Wanda already seemed. There has got to be something which could make up her mood.

“Hey Wands, you wanna watch a sitcom? It’s been a while since we sat together to watch one.”

“No Y/N, you can watch it by yourself. I’ve got some work to do.”

And in the same way, she was successful at avoiding spending time with you through any other activity. She was mad at you. You had to clear things with her as soon as possible, before she could find a hundred more reasons to be mad at you.

By the time evening arrived, all the work should definitely have been done. You did not disturb Wanda during her online work even though you’d do that normally whenever you stayed at home.

“Wanda, I need to talk to you. Please stop walking around. You aren’t even listening to me! Just wait for a few minutes. Tell me what is wrong.” You hold her hand to hold her back from leaving.

She takes a deep breath and questions you, “Why do you think something is wrong? Besides, you are the one who did not go have her nerves calmed at a park today but I didn’t go around poking in your business. Leave my hand!”

“Hey, hey take it easy. Wanda, your face literally says “I am pissed off but I want you to guess what it is about” and since I honestly cannot figure it out so I’m simply asking you. If you don’t want to tell me then nevermind. Whatever it is, I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies, keep them with you. And you can go do whatever the hell you want, I don't feel like talking to you right now. Also yes, I am pissed off.” Wanda’s voice slowly rises with every word she speaks, and a little discussion transforms into a heated argument.

“Fine, if that’s what you want. I won’t talk to you and I’m not even going to speak a word around you. You can say au revoir to my voice because I’m not gonna say anything. Night!”

“Yeah, as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways. Night!”

Both of you have gone to bed without having dinner. And your mind is playing with you again. Flashbacks of not only the greatest war, but also your biggest fight with your best friend till now. You can hear her words echo in your mind.

“Yeah as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways.”

“You can go do whatever the hell you want.”

“Leave my hand.”

In all these years, you have never heard her asking you to stop holding her hand. It was too heartbreaking to even imagine it.

— ✦ —

Wanda doesn’t talk to you the following day. Or the one after. Or the next. No calling you for the meal, no coming to pick you up from the park, nothing. You feel like you have had enough, so you approach her directly.

“So, do you want me to move out or something?”

“No Y/N.”

“Then speak your mind Wanda, I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“‘Speak your mind’ you say? Okay, here goes nothing.”

Without hesitation, she places her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer. For a moment, she stares into your eyes, and then kisses you deeply. You’re feeling both surprised, and satisfied. She closes her eyes to just feel you, and you place your hands in her hair. Her lips leave a trail as they move down to your neck, you tilt your head upwards to grant her all the access she would need. Wanda bites your skin and you let out a rough moan, driving her completely crazy.

That’s when you realise. Your best friend is marking your neck and you have no idea what’s going on. You gently motion for her to stop, which, reluctantly, she complies with.

“What?”

She clearly wants to go back to the moment, so she breathlessly asks you in return, “What?”

“Wanda.”

“Y/N.” She looks at you with a grin and pecks your lips again. “Alright, fine, let me explain.”

“Yes please, because as much as I love it, I’m still clueless.”

“I just have one question, now that you know, would you ever kiss me?”

Your cheeks redden up at her question. You avoid eye contact, gulp, and reply, “If you want then yes.”

She probably wants to growl and bang her head against the wall. “WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME HOW YOU FUCKING FEEL ABOUT ME?! CAN’T YOU SEE?!”

“See what Wanda?”

“Oh my God I cannot believe this. You are an idiot and I love you so fucking much.”

“Wa-”

“Don’t you dare say another word, I hate you! You’re just acting-” You shut her up by kissing her intensely, and again, and again, and yet again.

After pulling yourself away, you need some fresh air. So you sit on the couch, and beckon Wanda to follow. As soon as you’re sat, she decides to sit on your thigh, facing you. She slips her hands inside your t-shirt and seeks your permission, “Can I?” You smile and nod back at her, giving her consent.

She unhooks your bra, and cups your breasts in her hands each. Gently, she begins stimulating them. Your shoulders relax as she helps you feel lighter. You shut your eyes as Wanda gets you all worked up.

Suddenly, she pulls out her hands. You open your eyes and frown, uncertain about what happened. Wanda rubs herself against your thigh, making you moan by feeling her wetness. “Take off your shirt.” She directs you. You do as asked, and she’s met with the sight of your bare upper body. She immediately dives in to lick and play with your nipples, as you close your eyes again. Quite occasionally, you managed to say the same two coherent words; “Oh Wanda…”

She loves seeing you this way. It’s been years since she saw you relieve your stress. She hovers on your top, and connects her lips with your lips once again.

After a long heavy make out session, you decide to consider her wetness still lingering on your thigh. Grabbing her by the hips, you guide her for a pace. She’s in her yellow cotton shorts, and probably wouldn’t mind ruining them even more for you. Her moans get louder and louder till she finally says, “Y/N I’m gonna-”

“Yes honey, do it.” was all it needed for the knot in her stomach to release as she made a mess on your thigh. You slip two fingers within her heat to help her ride it out slowly. You mutter small praises to help her stabilise herself after her climax. Words like “You’re such a good girl” and “You did so well, princess” clearly had an effect on her. When you’re done and you pull out your hand from her dripping cunt, you let Wanda have a seat beside you.

She keeps on breathing heavily, but then looks at the sight of you licking your fingers clean. It was irrestitable for her, she had to pull you into a deep kiss. It was evident — she loved kissing you, whether it was a cute peck, a make out session, or just her catching her breath.

“Let me return the favour detka.” She requests you. You feel like it isn’t really necessary, but you don’t feel like breaking the moment so you let her do it. She pulls down your shorts, and begins teasing you over the panties with her fingers. You arch your back and groan, “Wanda please don’t-” So she bends and kisses your clothed core once before helping you strip off.

Slowly, she pushes in a finger, then adds another one. You spontaneously grasp her shoulders, which perturbs her. So she withdraws her fingers and looks at you tenderly and asks, “Y/N, are you really okay with this?”

“It’s just that… it’s been so long since I have…”

“Hey, I understand. If you want me to stop I can stop right away. You are always my first priority.”

“No, I want this Wanda. Everything feels so right, after so long.”

She slowly kisses you again, and this time not leaving out a single space she hasn’t discovered yet. Before you could do anything, she filled your intimacy with her fingers yet again. It’s an agonisingly slow pace, and it makes you shudder underneath her. “You look so gorgeous Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” You can only breathe heavily in response because you’re (i) speechless, (ii) cuntful.

Gradually, she picks up the speed for you. Echoes of your pants and screams fill the room, and Wanda is enjoying every single bit of it. Soon enough, you were ready for your release. You try to warn her, but she understands your signal and whispers gently, “Come for your princess, Y/N.” It was all you needed to make a mess all over her fingers. She rides you through it as your elevated heartbeat goes back to normal.

She watches you with affection, and moments later you return Wanda’s gaze. She sits beside you again, and you both are in a familiar comfortable silence all over again. You decide to break it and bring up the previous conversation, “So… I guess I love you too? You’re the idiot by the way.”

“What do you mean that you guess? If you want to play the game then don’t forget you’re the naked one here and I can tease you really bad.”

“Oh really princess?” You wink at her and shift closer to her. She wraps her arm around you and says, “Let’s get a little cleaned up. I’m feeling a little hungry.”

You innocently ask her, “What do you want to eat?” but her mind is already running towards the wrong places. She swallows and replies, “A cup of green tea would do for me right now, would you like one?” You shake your head in the positive and get up.

— ✦ —

You two sit on the balcony to have the green tea. It’s late at night and the city is asleep. Your mind stares at the dark sky, still not quite visible because of the buildings. Wanda looks towards you the same time you look at her, she’s smiling. “Look at the moon Y/N!” She points towards it. Your gaze stays fixed on Wanda.

“I am looking at her. She’s breathtaking.”

— ✦ —

The following morning was enchanting as ever. You wake in Wanda’s arms, who is already lying awake next to you, waiting for you. “Good morning detka,” she whispers, “I hope you had a nice sleep.”

Morning laziness takes over you, so you hug her tightly and hum. She giggles and rubs your back with her hand, indicating for you to not doze off again. You groan, “I feel like I've slept after years, probably the first time ever.”

“It’s because you are sleeping for the first time in years. I love seeing you like this, but you need to wake up lyubov.”

“Fine, but you have to answer my question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What were you mad about, yesterday and before that?”

She hides her face behind your shoulder. “It’s stupid.” You hold her chin softly and tilt her head so she’s facing you. She sighs.

“Fine. I just didn’t realise how badly I’ve ever wanted to kiss you until you accidentally said that you’d kiss me if we were together. I’ve never been around someone who I could sit together with, listening to some white noise, and feel at home with. Hell, I’ve never been with anyone who could tell me they love me with my morning face. And then you backed off by acting all I-would-never-kiss-you so I was just a little pissed off. I’m sorry. You see, it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t, you’re just an idiot in love with another idiot. Also, don’t you dare say anything about your morning face. Your freckles, your faded accent, your natural hair - my goodness Wanda, I’d seriously kiss you if we were together.” You place little pecks all over her face, making her chuckle. “I love you Wanda.”

“And I love you Y/N.”

You hear the doorbell ring out of the blue. Against your will, you had to get up and open the door. There’s the mail for the day - a few bills, and a small box, addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” again.

You call Wanda outside the room. When she comes next to you, you ask her, “This is the second box. What do you think it is?” She arches her eyebrows suspiciously and takes the box away from you to keep it next to the bowl of keys. “We can find that out later.” she says before kissing your neck.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mcu wanda #wanda x fem!reader #wanda smut #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader

[writtenontheport]

Just a Night at Portland Row

(pt.1) (pt.2)

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Literal romcom, These people are silly, Everyone’s so sillycore here, teary confessions, someone accidentally confesses, nothing dramatic happens he’s just silly, Childhood friends to lovers, Lockwood is kinda stupid (affectionate), no smut or suggestive content, Lockwood and co and reader friendship, whether or not what Lockwood says at the end actually happens is up to you!!

Notes: I have quite a few issues with this one, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it’s one of the better ways I could go about it. I also put all the flowers meanings at the bottom, so if you were curious I did in fact plan the flower meanings (I am a nerd). This finale has gone through about 20 revisions on the first day alone, so if anything seems jarringly out of place, I am so sorry 😭 I was all over the place with my ideas.

Summary: Just before supper time, you and Lockwood have a heart to heart, and it starts as it always has: with flowers, with tears, and a little funny thing called love.

word count: 2.4k+

“George,” Lockwood says seriously. It’s the first time George has ever seen him so serious about something that isn’t Lucy or him dying and it shocks him how quick he is to steel himself for whatever it is. “I need you to get Lucy to bring them down here, if you can, please.”

Now, ‘them’ is obviously referring to you, who’s laughing away upstairs with Lucy so loud they can hear it ring through the vents. If this wasn’t something George has genuinely been excited for, he would have smacked Lockwood upside the head for using that terrifying tone. “Don’t say it like that, prick. Thought someone was dying there.”

Lockwood grins at him from where he’s messing with the bouquet stood up on the table. The paper wrapping hasn’t been removed, courtesy of the empty vase and that water would most likely melt it; ribbon still intact. They stand, not quite fully in bloom (which is the best way to buy flowers, because otherwise they wilt right away) but just on the precipice of it. It’s packed with other, smaller additions, but at the heart of it, well. Maybe Lockwood did know something about the language of flowers.

“How’d you even pick them out?” George asks instead, watching Lockwood’s grin wobble.

“I made friends with the shopkeeper. He wouldn’t tell me what any of them meant, but he said they were good flowers— like the carnations. One of them though… these white ones here, just felt familiar somehow.” He kept messing about with the bouquet, meddling with any loose leaf or bud. “Can you please go get them? I want them to be able to see the flowers before they wilt.”

George does swat Lockwood for that, but he goes upstairs to get you. You and Lucy have moved to her room on George’s urging (he made Lockwood wait outside before coming in to make sure you didn’t know) and were lying in her bed on your stomachs, reading and sharing books. Lucy’s the first to look up at him, raising a brow as she nudges you.

“George? Everything ok?” You ask, propping yourself up to sit criss cross on the mattress. “Has Anthony come back yet?”

“He has,” he says simply, “He says he needs you in the kitchen. Lucy should stay since she must be tired from the case yesterday.”

From behind you, Lucy has a moment of realization that has her tucking her lips to hide a smile. Quietly, she puts a hand up to her forehead in a salute to George.

“You should go check,” she says, “Who knows what kind of trouble he might be in.”

“A lot of trouble,” George adds, nodding slightly along. You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you get up off the bed.

“I’ll save your place!” She calls just as you’re headed down. George walks 2 steps behind you to hide his expression before he can school it, feeling giddy with nerves that aren’t even his to have. He wonders how Lockwood’s doing, stopping just at his bedroom door.

You turn back, asking “You aren’t coming?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He rocks gently on his feet and pulls his hands behind his back, reassuring you with a calm nod. “Off you go, Lockwood’s probably burnt himself making tea by now or something.”

“I’d hope not…” you mumble, each step down like a crescendo in the world’s most suspenseful piece of music— every floorboard creak like the lead instrument and your heartbeat acting a steady base. On a sheet you’re sure it looks hideous, but it levels out when you open the door and Lockwood’s waiting there by the counter, looking like he’s straight off a magazine. The silence creeps in, but the piece rises to new heights as the sound of everything— the floorboards, the vents— suddenly dulls out.

You step into the kitchen, and let the door shut behind you.

There is your Anthony, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with a bouquet full of dazzling pink tulips, red roses, and spots of white jasmine flowers. There is Anthony, the boy you’ve known and loved for years— looking at you like he always does: like you’re the whole world and sky and everything he wakes up for.

Neither of you speak for a good minute, but it’s not without trying. Lockwood spends that pregnant pause fumbling for words, before—

“I love you,” He says.

The words come rushing out his lips, hurried and desperate. It shocks you how simply he puts it, like a sudden rest in the notes that takes you by surprise. He looks surprised too; horrified, really, that he’s just blurted that out. He swallows thickly, steeling his expression into something determined.

“I—“ you pause, the words caught in your throat, blood pounding in your ears. You think you tear up, but you can’t really tell when the whole world narrows down to Anthony Lockwood across from you in the kitchen of Portland Row, professing his love in the spur of the moment. You grow warm with affection, taking a step closer to him as the music of your singing heart drowns out everything but his words.

He takes a deep breath, his face pale with fear as he swallows and says quietly,, “Today, when I went down to the shops to get you these flowers, I met the really old man tending to them. Don’t look at me like that, he was really old, alright?”

“Anthony,” you scold quietly, tutting at him as you wrap your hands around his.

He bites the inside of his cheek before he keeps going. “Anyways he isn’t the point— I brought him up because he made me realise that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never gave telling you a shot. He lived loving someone else until they died— even after they did, and if… if there was a chance I could have that with you, I wanted to take it. I can’t promise you that I’ll be alive for as long as you will be, but I can promise you that I will love you for everyday I live and breathe if you let me.”

“Anthony,” you start, breathlessly. You take his face in your hands and he puts the bouquet down to cover your hands with his. He looks so scared like this, fragile like glass in your hands and pale with nerves.

“I can’t promise you forever,” He says solemnly, “But I can promise you my heart for as long as it beats.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, and will yourself not to kiss him. Years down to minutes— minutes to seconds. The silence hangs like a winding note. You glance back quickly at the bouquet, picking out one of the jasmine flowers before sliding it behind his ear and resting your hands on his face.

“Do you remember the first flower I gave you?” You ask just as quietly. He shakes his head, cheeks rubbing against the skin of your palms. “We were… quite young at the time, and I must have been mad, because I stole it from the neighbour’s garden. Yes, the grumpy one, you remember her. Well, I ran straight over from all the way from home with this crumpled little thing in hand— stop giggling. I’m telling you an important story— and you lit up like a light. Cheeky little thing you were, finding a way to give it back to me when I got scolded the same day for stealing and I was awful sore about the whole thing.”

“You looked all sad,” He cut in, voice hoarse in a mumble, “It made me happy, so I wanted it to make you happy too.”

You laugh, just as breathless, “And it worked, Anthony. It’s still one of my favourite flowers. Did you know that? They were the first flowers I read up on when I learned flowers could have meanings.”

“What’d you find?” He asks, the nerves fading into a hopefulness that fills his eyes with stars. It’s helplessly endearing where you see them shine, nearly nose to nose with how close you’re holding him.

You hum and close your eyes, pushing your forehead against his. “We gave each other white jasmine flowers, that day. A lot of people say they mean purity or innocence, but the one that stuck out to me was that people say it meant “everlasting love” too. When I look back on it now, it must’ve been fate.”

“Cause I always loved you and you probably realised that with how stupid I get about you?”He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You chuckle quietly, just as helplessly lost, “Not quite. I didn’t even think there was a chance you could love me back, though that does make everything a bit easier… because I’ve always loved you, Anthony.”

Like a child on Christmas day, Lockwood’s eyes grow wide; he’s helpless to the grin that splits his face. “Really?”

“I’m no liar, Anthony, and certainly not about this,” you laugh, unable to help yourself as you tip back and rest your nose lightly against his.

“No like— you mean it?” He asks, voice cracking with hope as he searches your face, “You love me? You love me?”

You’re helplessly endeared, helplessly in love and helplessly lost to it, so you just whisper back with a grin as wide, “Yes, Anthony. I love you.”

What little space between you both is gone in a second when he pushes his lips against yours. It’s a desperate thing, all relief and comfort and love pouring out. At some point, you’re both smiling too wide and too much for it to be anything more than just pushing your lips against each other’s and you pull away with a wet laugh.

He grins wider, and you didn’t think it was possible but he manages it. “I’m so glad, because if I had to go back to the shopkeeper with a terrible story about how I got rejected by the love of my life—“

You giggle and swat at his arm, wrapping your arms around him, “Of course that’s what you worry about. This is all a publicity stunt, yeah? To boost your ego.”

“Of course,” he says, with no weight to the words as he sniffs and blinks away the last of his tears, “Though that just means we should make it a bigger stunt and get married. I’ll even invite Kipps just to rub it in his face.”

You hum, helplessly amused, when the door slams open and George shamelessly walks in with at first his usual deadpan, then a pleased expression. From behind George, Lucy is brimming with happiness, smiling cheek to cheek.

“Gross,” George says, simply and without malice. He steps around you and Lockwood, patting you both on the back sincerely and pulling out pots and pans. It occurs to you a little late that he’s starting on supper. “Took you both a while to actually confess. Mental, the two of you.”

“It was cute,” Lucy says kindly, taking you from Lockwood (he does pout lightly, but she just sticks her tongue out at him) hugging you dear. “George just means that we’re both very happy you two finally got together. He was starting to go bald actually from pulling his hair out too much, look at his hairline—“

“You can’t even pretend like you weren’t too, Lucy.” George sends her a glare as she separates from you. Lockwood quickly fills the space at your side again and all but wraps himself around you. Lucy pats him on the back with a congratulatory smile.

“You can’t go bald before my wedding, George, that’d just ruin it,” you say, clicking your tongue as you reach over (not without struggling over Lockwood) and pat his curls into place. The pot nearly slips out of his hands while Lucy’s eyes grow big as saucers.

“Wedding?!?” They ask simultaneously. Lockwood giggles into your neck, the cheeky bastard.

“This one here,” you gesture at Lockwood with a look, “said we should get married since this whole thing is a publicity stunt or whatnot. Said he might even invite that Kipps bloke he hates.”

“That is the lamest proposal I have ever heard,” Lucy immediately cuts in, the most disappointed scowl pointed at Lockwood’s head.

“I’ve got to agree. You could absolutely do better than that, Lockwood. Also, Quill Kipps? Do you want to have start a fight at your wedding?” George asks, his back turned to everyone. You pull away from Lockwood to pick up the flowers, but not without him frowning as you do. He stops frowning as soon as you smile at him, though, before he turns his attention to Lucy and George when they both pretend to gag.

“I gave them flowers, a really sentimental bunch I think, then I had a good speech,” He says to Lucy first, who raises a brow at him.

He turns to George next. “I need to rub it in his face that he’s probably miserable and forever alone.”

“I thought it was gonna be a publicity stunt, not a revenge plot,” You mutter, clicking your tongue.

“I’m not letting you have a lame wedding, Lockwood, because that means they—“ she points to you “— will have a lame wedding and I will not let that happen.”

“But you’d let me have a lame wedding if it was just mine?” His face is scrunched in offence as he ‘discreetly’ wraps himself around you again.

“Yes,” Lucy and George say simultaneously.

“I’d marry you at a lame wedding.” You play with his hair where you can reach it, pressing a kiss to his forehead where he’s dumped it again on your shoulder. Lucy and George gag, Lockwood beams so bright you’d think he won the lottery that night.

They manage to convince you that it’s too dark out to leave (it was past curfew, the sun had set already) so you spend the night recounting everything you can with them until the stars had gone to sleep and the sun started rising.

The next day, he brings down the bouquet of carnations you’d first given him, and you mix both the bouquets into one. A year later, Portland Row becomes home to not only to the people living in it, but a garden full of flowers blooming with love, laughter, and a lot of hard work. White Jasmine flowers bloom on the veranda and a house of three becomes home to four.

A/N: Finally finished this series!! Whew, that was… hmm!! And just because I couldn’t add it to the story without it getting clunky, have these idk, headcanons? fun facts?:

Reader tells Lockwood all about the flowers after, and informs him about why the Jasmine flowers were so familiar

The grumpy neighbour reader stole the white jasmine flowers from was actually the old man gardener’s wife

Lockwood goes back to tell the old man, and they have a laugh about the whole thing

It is so hard to get one straight meaning for a flower, but if you dig enough you can find flowers that mean so many cute things:

Red carnations mean deep love and affection

Pink tulips mean caring and affection

White Jasmine flowers can mean many things but for this story I went with: Eternal love, persevering love, and new beginnings

Everyone knows red roses, but I also like to think Lockwood’s bouquet had thornless red roses because they mean love at first sight

Yes he one upped the reader even without knowing what all the flowers mean because he’s a competitive little freak (affectionate) and I love him

This series has been very dear to me, and I am especially thankful to @tangledinlove <3 Thank you for your kind reblogs, I hope you know I read them and always look forward to seeing how you find each part in the series even if I don’t respond to them <33333

Also @milesmorals asked me to tag her too!!

#portie writes fanfic #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you

[queenie-official]

Chapter Three: ‘First Impressions’ Bridgerton au!Anakin

part 1, part 2

a/n: so the outfits that Obi-Wan and Ani are wearing are the ones in the photos ☝️🤭but guys tell me how i had more of chapter four planned out then i did this chapter 🤨 like i fr already had dialogue for chapter four before i even started this one 😀 anyway i hope you guys like this 🥰

Once more you find yourself pacing around in an endless circle. Today was the day you were to meet him. The wedding was already set to happen in a week. however invitations wouldn’t be handed out for another two days, the council told you it would be wise to get to know your future husband a bit first- but honestly how much could you really learn about a person in such a short amount of time. it’s not like you had a week to get to know each other, no you had the day to get to know him before he’d be back off to his own kingdom till the wedding.

“you need to calm down” Padme’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. you look over to where she’s sat on the settee, a concerned look on her face. you’d asked her to come over and help distract you. to her credit she did try at first but she quickly realized nothing she could say or do would occupy your mind from the days events. “i’m calm” you say trying to convince yourself that more then her. “if you can say that while standing still, i’ll believe you” she retorts whilst standing up and walking over to you forcing you to stop pacing as she places her hands on your shoulders.

“you can’t blame me for being nervous, i mean wether this goes well or not this is the man i am to spend the rest of my life with” you vent, feeling your anxiety swirl. you felt like this was an impossible situation, marrying someone you didn’t know. obviously it was a common thing but it didn’t make the reality of it any weirder to you. “what if he doesn’t want to marry me?” it was a stupid question, the better question would be why would he want to marry you. he was being moved away from his home to a foreign place with different traditions and cultures. not to mention an entirely different climate, you’d read up on Tatooine it was a Warm desert kingdom a direct contrast to Alderaan.

“that’s a possibility” Padme answers, not the reassurance you wanted but you didn’t call padme here because she would lie to make you feel better. you called her here because she would give it to you straight but also support you the best way she could. “so then i’ve forced a man into a loveless marriage” you huff, feeling anger course through you as your once again reminded of the councils rash decision that got you into this.

“most people these days end up in loveless marriages y/n. most women at least, we have no say in who we marry it’s all decided by our fathers.” that once again didn’t make you feel any better but it was the hard truth. “this is going to be a long day” you’d slump over if you could but the corset you had on prevented you from most movement that involved bending of any form. “maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised” you could only hope she was right.

“i know it’s silly but growing up i always imagined marrying someone i fell in love with. my mom and dad where in love when they got married, a rare occurrence for monarchs. i always pictured having what they did.” you say sadly, it may not be the end of the world that your marrying a stranger but it was the end of that dream. a cruel awakening to your inner child. “it’s not silly, most little girls wish that” Padme says sympathetically.

“if my dad where still alive he’d have ensured it a reality” you say solemnly, feeling your heart tug at the thought. “Bail was a good man, a good king and a good father” you feel your eyes gloss over at her words, it was times like this you really missed him. your father was everything to you, he was all you had when your mother passed and vice versa. losing him felt like mourning two people at once, learning how to cope without your mother all over again in addition to coping without him.

“i miss him” it came out more as a whisper, you felt that if you spoke any louder the dam would break and tears would spill. Padme was quick to pull you into a tight hug. she was a big help when you lost him, a loyal friend who you knew would always be on your side. “i can’t help but feel i’m failing him” you let out the thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind throughout this whole ordeal. “he was and always will be proud of you” she said firmly, rubbing your back gently.

“would he be proud of me for this though?” you couldn’t help but ask. “circumstances changed y/n, you’ve done what you could. besides it’s not as if this was entirely your decision” she reassured you. you take a deep breath, indulging in the hug you both shared a moment longer before pulling away. “speaking of i really need to do something about the council before another reckless decision is made.”

“the sooner you’re crowned the Queen the better” she says with a laugh trying to lighten the mood, though she was being completely serious. right as you where about to respond your conversation was interrupted by Barclay barging in, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent with him.

“your majesty they’re here” he said and you stiffened, the reality of the situation crashing down onto you. you knew this was coming but it hadn’t truly felt real til now.

“oh i’m going to be sick” you mumble just loud enough for padme to hear, she gives you a gentle pat on the back a silent way of saying you’ve got this. as if suddenly reminded of her existence Barclay acknowledges her “Lady Amidala pleasure to see you” it surprisingly sounded genuine, though to be fair he had been sucking up to you the last couple days clearly something clicked in his mind that you where the one who controlled wether he actually had a job or not. that or there was something else motivating him either way his change in attitude didn’t sit right with you, something was off and you could sense it.

“Barclay” was all padme said to greet him not even bothering to turn in his direction to acknowledge him properly. you had to stifle a laugh, god you loved her. she kept her head high and walked right past him, she would be leaving through the gardens so no one knew she was there. the meeting was to be kept secret from everyone aside from the respective royal families.

with a sigh you nodded towards Barclay to signify you where ready. you both walked down the hallways heading to the main foyer, with each step you took you felt as if you where being pulled down. finding it harder and harder to move forward the closer you got. these where your last moments to breath without someone beside you- metaphorically of course, after all as a royal there’s always someone at least five steps from you which was tiring to say the least.

you could swear time was simultaneously moving faster then light and slower then molasses as you watched Barclay nod to the guards to open the doors that stand as the only barrier between you and the one you are to wed. it was hard to breath? but just as quick as the breath got stuck in you it was knocked right out as one of the guards rose there voice impossibly loud to announce your arrival.

“now presenting her Majesty, the Crown Princess Y/n Organa” it honestly made your ears ring but at the very least it served as a nice reminder of where you are and pulled you back down to earth. still it all felt a bit excessive to you considering there was only four people here excluding the guards.

Walking further in so that you and Barclay where now face to face with the two men, you scanned over them quickly. they both where good looking you had to admit, what threw you off though was how drastically different they where dressed from each other. for a moment you almost thought they came from two different places but quickly brushed that off knowing good and well that wasn’t the case.

“hel-“ just as you began to greet the two men you are quickly cut off by a third party you hadn’t even noticed was there. Chancellor Valorum. “greetings you are?” he said and you paused turning to see him standing behind you, how long had he been there? no one else seemed shocked so he must of been there for quite some time you concluded. but why was he there? deciding to act like you had known he was there you turn back to the two men. to your surprise the older looking one of the two directed his attention to you and not Valorum. it brought a small smile to your face, feeling like it was a nice change of pace finally be acknowledged instead of looked over.

“I am Prince Obi-Wan first born son of the Kingdom Tatooine. and this” he gestured to the pretty blonde beside him who could easily tower over you if he was close enough. “is my brother Anakin” he finished and you felt a little giddy, so far so good right? he was tall and handsome you could only hope he was kind and had a personality as good as he looked. though to your dismay the aforementioned man hadn’t even spared you a glance, thinking on it he hadn’t looked at you even when you first entered the room. that fact made your stomach twist.

“neither of your parents are joining us?” the chancellor spoke again before you could get a word in, honestly he was one more sentence away from you clocking him in the face. but you hold your breath and maintain your composure. this time Obi-Wan does acknowledge him but only to answer his question and you were guessing to not seem rude. “unfortunately our mother and father are quite busy but as the future king they deemed it enough for me to go with my brother for this” you felt like a child who could do nothing but watch as the grown ups speak as you look back and forth from the chancellor and him.

Thankfully Obi-Wan was quick to redirect his attention to you. “your highness shall we discuss matters more privately?” why couldn’t conversation with people of power always go this way, taking to you instead of over you. you give him a polite smile before answering. “yes let’s move this elsewhere” you say with a nod. “lead the way.” was all he said in turn.

as you all walk down the halls of the castle you can’t help but notice how quiet prince Anakin was. it worried you, was he always this quiet or was he choosing not to say anything. did he already hate you- to be fair if he did you wouldn’t blame him. if the roles where reversed and your kingdom had been basically black mailed into giving you up as marriage you’d probably hate the person you thought responsable as well. you found yourself actually wishing you two where alone so you could explain yourself and hope he could understand. Then again who’d say he’d believe you, it was worth a try though wasn’t it?

unsurprisingly throughout most of the meeting chancellor Valorum spoke for you any chance he could. and just as in the foyer Obi-Wan directed his answers to you. time dragged as you guys finished up flushing out the details of the agreement more thoroughly. it was all so casual and you couldn’t help but feel sick especially with Anakin sitting right there not saying a word. you couldn’t even get a read on his emotions his face was a blank slate. it made you anxious and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just hurry up and get all of this over already or drag it out longer so you could procrastinate the inevitable.

it was evident just how long the meeting had taken when you were met with the setting sun as you looked out the window. a panic ran through you when you realized you had no time at all to talk Anakin now and the next time you’d see him would be the day of the wedding. you where now truly going into this marriage blind- not that you would of learned much about him today regardless but anything would be better than nothing.

closing up the meeting with a handshake between the chancellor and Obi-Wan, even though he had clearly held his hand out for you- you all stand up and head out of the meeting room.

Anakin had still yet to say a word, Obi-Wan being the one to speak on both there behalf’s when saying goodbye. even as they walked away you watched as he didn’t even speak to his brother, maybe he was mad and his silence was the politest protest he could do. you could only hope your whole marriage wouldn’t be like this, what an awkward life that would be. though maybe you’d get used to it at some point.

all of these thoughts swimming in your head stopped as a pair of blue eyes met yours, it was brief and for a second you thought you’d imagined it. he had look back at you right before the castle doors closed.

that’s all you had to go off of until you would meet again for the wedding day.

part 4

okay guys the next chapter will feature a lot more Anakin and yes the pretty boy will speak 🥰 this took me forever to finish 😀 mainly because i’ve been writing this in between doing work 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 anyways i hope you all like this chapter i know it was a lot more emotional then the others but reader is going through a lot at once 😭 side note i love reading your reply’s you guys are funny and real asf🤭 that’s all i have to say for now enjoy huns Xx<3

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #atoc anakin #rots anakin #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin x reader oneshots #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au #bridgerton #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

[angel-shaw]

Here’s the Lasko/his listener one I made!

@annahxredaxted here you go!!

Thank you to @meepisindahouse for beta reading! <333

Kody is their little brother but they don’t know what he did, till Lasko tells them-

“Hon, you know I love you but you've to at least try, I cant keep doing this,” They said exasperated.

Their brother was sitting on their couch once again, venting about how people at his school were targeting him and even getting him kicked out of his dorm.

“I did! It's not my fault everything is against me!”

“I know bud, but this keeps happening, you know you have at least some part to play. You always blame the people around you for everything, so it makes sense why they don't like you. I'm not saying it's ok for them to get you kicked out, but you could at least try to be more pleasant and not as back-stabby.”

“Stop siding with them! The shit they accuse me of is total bullshit! I'm nothing but nice to these people and then they get their friends to target me! I had nothing to do with these other people!”

They sighed, “Look I know, but my neighbors are getting really fed up with you showing up randomly and making a bunch of noise. If they report me again it's going to start being an actual problem that can get me kicked out of here. I don't mind you staying here, hell, it's nice to see you, but it can't keep happening this way, /please/.”

Their brother sighed, rolled his eyes, and fell back onto the couch, “Ya ya, whatever. Your neighbors suck.”

“Thank you Kodes, Now I have to run out for some food. Any requests?”

“Mmm, I don't care. You can't just make something?”

“Tomorrow I can, but I’m having dinner with my boyfriend tonight so I'm just going to grab something for you.”

Once again their brother groned, “Can't you just tell your boy-toy that you can’t see him tonight?”

“Don't call him that. I actually really like him Kodes, I think this one’s gonna last.”

Defending their romantic relationships from their brother's scrutiny wasn't new. He was always annoyed whenever they got with someone. The two were always close growing up and Kody always hated when they went out with guys. There were quite a few relationships that ended poorly because Kody got in the way.

“Ya ya whatever, I doubt it. I just wish you would hang out with me and not with some guy who's probably gonna dump you.”

They sighed, “I'm gonna go to the store, I'll be back soon.”

“See ya,”

They grab their keys and head out.

Shopping didn't take long, but well they did they thought about how much their little brother had changed over the years. He used to be so sweet, but something happened after they had moved out. The next time they saw Kody was when he got into D.A.M.N, after they had become a teacher. They had tried to meet up with him multiple times before then but he never seemed interested.

When he started at D.A.M.N. he ignored them for months, they tried to talk with him but he always had some things to do, which was fair enough. He was grown up now and had classes. But at some point something had happened and he ended up getting expelled. He asked them not to do anything about it, but he did crash at their place for a while after it happened. They were ready to try to fight for him, but he practically begged them not to, saying that he didn't want their career to suffer. So they didn't, they just helped him get into a new place and get back on his feet.

As they walked back up to their apartment they saw a familiar face, “Lasko?”

Lasko turned, “Oh! H-hey, I was just on- on my way to pick y-you up.”

“Oh is it time already? I'm sorry, I went out to get some stuff for my brother.”

“Your br-brother? I didn't know you had one? Does he live with y-you?”

“No, he's just staying with me for a few days. I'm excited for our date tonight! Just let me drop this stuff off and put on something a bit nicer, ya?”

“Y-Ya that's totally fine!”

The two of them walked back to their apartment door.

“Do you want to come in? I'll be quick,”

“Ya, s-sure!”

They let themselves and Lasko in, “Kodes I’m back! Laskos here, so be nice!” They drop the bags off on the tables and see a scribbled note.

“Went out

Be back to eat”

They sigh, “Sorry Lasko, it looks like my brother went out so you'll have to wait to meet him,”

“Oh! That's alright! I’ll j-just sit on the couch till you're ready,” Lasko smiled and went to sit.

As they got ready, Lasko looked around. There wasn't much on the walls, but there were some framed pictures. Curiosity got the best of him so he started to look closer. He got up and smiled at his lover's happy face in the pictures.

There was one where they were holding their little brother when they were kids, they were both so cute. It was labeled “Kodes and me<3”. However as he looked, one of the pictures made him stop, his blood running cold. He could feel the air around him tighten in his anger. The picture was labeled just like the other. “Kodes and me<3” It was Kody. The same Kody who had hurt Freelancer, the same one who had led people to their deaths by being a dick during The Inversion. He was… their brother….

He didn't realize how much time had passed until their hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and turned around.

“Lasko? Are you alright?”

“Kody’s your brother?”

“Mhm, Do you know him? This doesn't feel like a good thing.. Did he say something to you too? I know he's not the best sometimes but I didn't think he knew you?” The worried laced their voice, they had no idea. They couldn't have any idea, they were so sweet, there was no way they would care for him if they knew. But how could they not??

“Oh I know him.” He could hear his own voice, he was angry. He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked at them.

“Do you not know why he was expelled from D.A.M.N?” He was quiet, he had to be.

They shook their head, “No, he asked me not to get involved, that it wasn't worth it. So I just figured he did something stupid and pissed the wrong people off…Did…Did he do something?”

“He was the one who hurt Freelancer.”

Everything stopped, their eyes widened as they processed what that meant. They had talked to Freelancer quite a bit. They had told them about the bad experiences with another student, but never said his name. The kid had bridged with them without them knowing what it meant, then continued to harass them. It only stopped when the kid was expelled and that only happened because their friends had convinced them to take action and helped along the way. That…that couldn't have been their baby brother. He was a jerk sure, but he wouldn't do that….He couldn't.

“It…it was him? Are you sure?? 100%?!”

Lasko nodded.

Their eyes began to water, completely overwhelmed, they sat on the floor. Lasko dropped with them, holding their hands tightly.

‘’I…I'm so sorry, I…I knew he was causing his own problems but I never imagined he could do something like that…”

“I know, it's not your fault.”

They shook their head, “What- What do I do? I- he’s my baby brother but..but he..I can’t..”

“I know, take a deep breath. I know this is hard.”

“I…can't, I can't have him here..I can't support him like this…He..he's really terrible isn't he? He really is a bad person isn't he??” They broke down into sobs, clutching onto Lasko.

He rubbed their back as they sobbed, they kept repeating that same question, “He really is a bad person now isn't he? Oh god he is, it really was him.”

After some time they pulled back, their breathing still heavy and their cheeks tear stained.

“What..what do I do?” They sounded so lost. “He, he can't stay here, I won't let him but how…how do I tell him to leave? It feels like I can't just kick him out…he's…he's my baby brother but…I can't…how do I…”

Lasko took a deep breath, “I know it's hard, I-I know it's hard to cut off family. You don't have to do this by yourself. I can call Freelancer and Gavin ask if Gavin can come help. I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping get Kody out. D-Damien and Hux too.”

“God, I have to tell Freelancer, don't I? I have to tell them he's my brother-”

“Hay,” Lasko’s soft voice cut through the impending second breakdown, “Freelancer won't blame you, they know you. They will not blame you, you didn't know and were just helping your brother. You know now and you're not trying to defend what he did. It's going to be ok.”

They nodded, “Can…can we call Freelancer? I don't think I'll be able to kick him out by myself…”

“Of course.”

One call later the two of them were on their way to Freelancer’s apartment. It wasn't a long drive but it felt like it. They were too emotional to drive so Lasko did, during the drive he held their hand and kept telling them it would be ok, but it didn't feel like it.

Once they reached the apartment Gavin let the two in instantly, his usual playfulness missing. The three went into the living room where Freelancer was sitting with several cups of tea.

“Hey, there you are,” Freelancer's voice was soft, they got up and hugged them.

“I'm so so sorry, I didn't know-” They held Freelancer tight and they could feel the tears start to resurface.

“No no no, it's alright. It's not your fault.” Freelancer lightly swayed the two of them, “You didn't know, you were just caring for your family, I can't and won't ever blame you for that. His actions are his own, never yours.”

“He hurt you..”

“He did, I didn't deserve what he did. But he does deserve what happened to him and he doesn't deserve someone as sweet as you as a sibling.”

“I'm so sorry.. I..I didn't know what to do..”

Freelancer pulled back, taking their hand and led them to sit on the couch. They handed them a cup of hot tea, “I know, I can't say I know what to do either, I've never been in a situation like this before.”

“I don't want him near me, I love him because he's my brother, but…but my baby brother wouldn't do something like this. I don't know what happened, I don't know why he turned out like this…’’

“I can understand that, I can't relate to having someone who I care for turn out to be like how Kody is. I'm so sorry that you have to go through this too. I might not understand the care you have for him, but you can vent to me about it, I know this is hard.”

“I can't ask you for that! He violated you, I can't vent to you about-”

“Let me stop you there,” Freelancer interrupted, “You're not asking, I'm telling you and offering you to. I know what he did to me. It took me a long time to come to terms with it and well, I am still affected by what he did. That doesn't change that you are a friend of mine. He hurt you too by doing all of this. I might not be the person to tell how kind and sweet he used to be in a dream like way you can't talk to me about how this has hurt you too. Without my friends, Lasko, Damien, Hux, and Gavin, I wouldn't have recovered. Some of those conversions were about how Kody wronged them, or how they were upset about how he hurt me. And those helped, it was another perspective. I don't ever plan to forgive him and I never want people to try to defend him to me. You ranting to me isn't you defending him, it's just giving me another reason to never forgive him. He hurt another one of my friends.”

They nodded, “Thank you,” They sniffled and Freelancer placed their hand on their arm.

“I just don't understand how he could have turned out like this.. He used to be so sweet, I knew he changed and that that change wasn't good but I never thought he would do something like this.”

“We never expect the people we care about to be monsters,” Gavin said, he was standing behind the couch, his hand on his lover's shoulder, “It's hard to accept that sometimes they are.”

Freelancer nodded, “What do you want to do? I know you said you don't want him in your place anymore, but there are a few ways we can go about that.”

“I…I honestly don't know. I don't think I can just kick him out by myself. I don't want him there, but…”

“I understand don't worry, you don't have to explain yourself to us. Do you want Damien and Huxly to be there with you and Gavin? That way you're not alone? I would offer to go, but I don't want to be anywhere near him.”

They nodded, laughing breathlessly, “Ya, I get that. I don't want you to go anywhere near him either. I want to tell him to get out myself, having the others there would be nice. I don't think he will react well though, I don't want anyone getting hurt-”

“Oh trust me, Aquafina won't hurt any of us. He's learned that lesson. If he tries anything he won't get far.” Gavin said. His smile was slightly disconcerting. ‘:3’

They nodded, “Can you guys explain it to the others, I don't think I can explain it again..”

“Of course, Gavin and I will do that, you and Lasko can sit here while we call, ok? If you need something to eat feel free to rummage, ok? And all the tea is open for you.”

Lasko took Freelancer's place once they got up, “How are you doing?”

“Not good, honestly,” They laughed, though there was no humor in it. “It doesn't feel like I'm drowning at the moment, but this is so much to accept. It's a whole another layer that it's so easy to believe all of it… I think that's the worst part of it all. How easily I can believe Kody did all this..”

They let Lasko hold them. They both just sat there for a while.

After a while Freelancer and Gaivn walked back in, “The others are on their way. They were grabbing food so they grabbed some for all of us as well, Hux said food might help.”

“Hux is so sweet..”

“He really is.”

“Freelancer?”

“Ya?”

“Thank you, I know this has to be hard for you. I'm sorry for making you think about him all over again. But thank you for helping me.”

Freelancer smiled, “Of course. This is hard, but I mean hey, at least we have one more thing we can gossip about as if it wasn’t heavily traumatizing now?”

They laughed, caught completely off guard.

Over the next ten minutes the four of them talked lightly. They weren't ignoring what was going on, but more giving them a chance to calm down before having to do the hardest thing they needed to do.

Huxly and Damien arrived and Huxly immediately asked if they wanted a hug, they accepted. His hug felt safe and they stayed there for a while Damien handed out food. Once all of them settled down Lasko and Freelancer explained a bit more to the other two. They both listened intently.

They also immediately agreed to help get Kody out. The room heated up a few degrees even as Lasko explained.

“I want to talk to him…I want to tell him to get out,” They said. That was the only thing they were completely sure of.

“Ok, so we obviously want a game plan going in, Kody definitely isn't going to be happy. I wouldn't put it past him to try to get violent. Especially if he thinks you're alone.” Damien was logical and it helped them feel safe.

“If you want to be the one to tell him, I completely respect that, but I don't want to run the chance that he'll hurt you,” Huxly said. “Maybe we can wait out of sight until he tries something?”

“That still puts them in danger though,” Damein said.

“I mean..can..can you be in the room with me, Lasko? I know it's a lot to ask. I'm not worried about Kody really trying to hurt me but that's because I don't think he would. So that's based on an idealized version of him. I don't want to be alone in a room with him..”

“O-of course! I- I understand why you don't.”

“Ok. So here's the plan so far, Me, Hux and Gavin will be off the side, out of sight. Lasko will be in the room with you as you confront him and if he gets aggressive the three of us will step in and get him out and make it clear you don't want him to come crawling back. Freelancer are you going to stay here then?’’

“Ya, I’ll stay here and make sure all the wards and such are ready for when you guys come back.”

“What do you mean?” They asked, They were leaning against Lasko on the couch.

“Well, you're not going to stay at your place /obviously/. Kody is the type to try shit so once he assumes the others are gone, he's going to try to pull something. So we won't give him the chance. The best way to combat that is for everyone or at least most of us to stay here tonight. We have wards already set up against Kody, so even if he tries to follow you guys on the way back he won't be able to even come close. Plus I know it's not good to be alone after a bunch of stuff goes down.”

“I- Thank you..that..that means alot to me…I would really like that actually.”

Freelancer smiled, “Of course, you're our friend. We aren't going to let you go through this alone.”

They took a deep breath, “Let's do this. I want to get this over with.”

The others nodded.

Everyone except Gavin and Freelancer got into Lasko’s car. Gavin decided to rift ahead to make sure Kody wasn’t back yet. Damien drove this time.

“Hay dude, are you sure you wanna do it this way? This shit’s hard.” Hux asked.

They took a deep breath, “Yes. He's my brother, I have to be the one to do it. It will be hard but having someone else do it will make him think it wasn't my choice. If I need you guys I'll say so, don't worry. Just knowing you guys are there makes me feel safer..”

Hux smiled and patted their shoulder.

Once they got to the apartment building Gavin met them at the door.

“I'll text Kody to come back and you guys can just go into my room, it's a pretty small place so it's not far from the living room and you guys should be able to hear everything. Lasko if you want to be in sight you can be on the couch, if not the hall should work, He won't see you at first I don't think.”

“Ill s-sit with you. I don't w-want you do this al-alone.”

“Thank you Lasko,” They took his hand and pulled him into a tight hug.

Ten minutes later, Kody said he was on his way and the guys got into place, Lasko and them taking their seats on the couch.

Once Kody opened the door and walked in, he didn't immediately notice Lasko. “Finally you’re back, I didn't think your stupid date would be so long. What the hell were you even doi-” He stopped completely once he saw Lasko on the couch.

“Why the hell are you here?! Get away from them!” He yelled.

Kody yelling immediately caught them off guard, but they stood, “Don't talk to him like that. I know what you did, Kody.”

“I didn't do shit! Whatever bullshit he is telling you is a lie!”

“I know he's telling the truth, Kody. I want you out.”

“You barely know him and you're going to believe just anything that comes out of his mouth over me?! I’m your brother for fuck’s sake!”

“Kody you bridged with someone who didn't want that!”

“They said they did! I didn't do anything wrong!”

“They didn't know what that meant! You can't just say that and make it alright! What else have you done?? What else did you do and then come crawling to me for help when you got punished for it?! What the hell Kody?! I knew you were getting bad, but I never thought you would do something like this!”

‘You’re my sibling, you're supposed to support me! This is just that dumb fucking Freelancer trying to ruin my life even more!”

“Get out, Kody.”

Kody laughed, “You're not actually making me leave.”

“Out.”

“I'm your brother, I have nowhere else to go! Do you really want me out on the street??”

“You'll figure something out, I'm sure. But even if you don't it's what you had coming for pulling all of this shit.”

“I'm not going anywhere.’’

“Guys.”

Kody looked confused for a split second until Gavin appeared right in front of him. He stumbled backwards. Domain and Huxy came out into the living room, Lasko now standing and holding his lover.

Kody immediately tried to attack but was immediately shut down by Gavin. “I don't think that's a good idea.” He said coldly.

“Oh?! So the Freelancer really is collecting everything they can?!! They're just as bad as what you are!” Kody spat.

Despite knowing this could happen they still held tightly to Lasko’s arm.

It didn't take long after that. The three others got Kody out and definitely made sure Kody knew they didn't want him back. They were pretty sure Hux had to stop Damien from punching him more than once.

Once Kody was out he banged on the door for a bit, but Gavin soon let them know he had stormed off.

They all spent some time in the living room, it wasn't long until they started to cry in Lasko’s arms. Gavin and Huxly were kind enough to go and get a bag ready for them. Well Lasko told them which clothes to grab and some other items.

After a while they were able to calm down, Damien and Lasko sitting with them as they breathed. Once Gavin and Huxly had gotten two bags ready for them they all went back out to Lasko’s car, Gavin deciding to rift ahead to let Freelancer know it was over. Lasko grabbed their blanket and wrapped them up in it.

They made it back to Freelancer’s without any problems which was nice. The four of them were mostly quiet, but once they got back to Freelancer’s the mood seemed to switch.

“Do you need quiet or noise? Either one is alright. If you want to try and just process everything it's alright, or if you want to relax for a bit and try to have some fun to get your mind off it. We've got Mario Kart and a bunch of other things we can all play.”

“Can…Can you guys play? I don't think I can focus on controls but I love watching you guys play.”

“Ya of course! Now, what do you want for food? Snacks? Drinks?”

They laughed lightly.

That's how they ended up sitting in between Lasko and Freelancer on the couch. Listening and laughing as the others played and yelled at each other. The day was hard and painful. That pain wouldn't go away fast but they had people who truly cared for them, and maybe that would be enough.

“Thank you,” They whispered to Freelancer once again.

Freelancer smiled and threw their arm around them, “Don't worry about it, Now you sure you don't want a turn? I bet you'll crush these losers.”

“Hay!”

They laughed and took the controller, “I'll try once I guess.”

#redacted asmr #redacted #Redacted audio #redacted lasko #redacted listener #redacted dear #redacted freelancer #Redacted kody #redacted damien #redacted hux #redacted huxley #redacted gavin #Kody is listeners little brother

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.3

read it on ao3.

words: 14k notes: hello!!! on the wings of an absolute ARMY of betas, here is a fresh new chapter for you!! since the last one was a little short i took the time to really flesh this one out. I'm a shy idiot who is SO bad at responding, but i see your comments and they mean the world to me. i literally have a folder on my computer full of the sweet words this fic has been given, and i think i've re-read the comments in that folder at least a million times over by now. ty so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy!! bloody mary is next! a very special thank you to my beta readers, bear, M, venice, feeb, and daff, who easily made this my best chapter yet. thank you specifically for keeping me coherent and sane lol <3

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 4th.

You don’t have to be psychic to know precisely what your mother is going to say when she answers the phone. She’ll pick up on the fourth ring with an occupied, scathing drawl and say, Look who finally has cell service.

Alright. So you’re not the best, most communicative daughter in the world. You call when you can, you honestly do, but there’s not exactly loads of emotional bandwidth to spare on the road. Peeling off all the layers of case anxiety and Winchester grief takes a while, dammit!

Maybe you’d feel less guilty if you vented to Sam or Dean, but it’s kind of lousy to bitch about Mom-stuff to, uh. Yeah. The boys. You could use a simple, uncomplicated statement like, talking to my Mom reminds me of how much of a disappointment I must be to her, and Dean would hear matricide instead. Sam’s blank, uncomprehending look wouldn’t be much better. Looks like you’re alone on this one.

When there’s a natural break in the day’s long research-fest the three of you are riding, you slip away, pace beside the Impala for a while, then finally bite the bullet and call her. Cars whisk through the slurry of snow on the road. Your phone charms rattle in the icy breeze. One ring, two rings… She knew you were going to call, she could sense it, but of course she has to torture you… three rings, four.

“I didn’t know cell service was so hard to come by in Pittsburg,” Beth greets you, sounding preoccupied. Damn, do you know her well or what?

“Hey, Mom,” you sigh. The wind is loud, so you pull your phone further down your face and try to come up with an excuse that is even halfway reasonable. “Sorry I haven’t called. It’s been ages since I’ve been around the boys, and I guess I get a little caught up with them sometimes.”

This is objectively true. She used to have a rule about you getting your homework done before they came over, purely because you forgot about everything and anything else the second Sam and Dean entered the house.

“Forget those losers. You’re my baby, I love you most,” Beth gushes, and you understand that this is her way of saying that you’re forgiven. Both of you have fallen victim to the Winchester spell before, so she can’t exactly blame you.

You’re a little embarrassed by her mushiness, but a relieved, bubbly laugh jumps out of you. “Alright, consider them forgotten. Now… I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you not to freak out or overthink it, kay?”

Beth snorts. “You mean my two jobs as a mother? Go ahead, shoot.”

This is not the kind of question that you just “shoot,” though. It takes you a moment to string together how you’re going to ask this, and of course, you’re nothing but graceful and delicate about it. “...What do you know about demons?”

Your mother doesn’t say anything for a long, yawning second. Still, you can sense her rising swarm of questions and outrage all the way from Pennsylvania, and you try to stop her onslaught before it starts. “Hey! No questions! Just answers. I promise I would tell you if this was outrageously dangerous.”

“Then you’ve already broken your promise,” Beth utters, slipping into her Sage Grandmaster Psychic voice. Just hearing it makes you deflate. She predicts, “...Let me guess. You’ve felt nauseous. Suffocated. Hungry, but everything you eat comes right back up again.”

You toe a chunk of ice on the asphalt with your boot, grumbling, “...Yeah.”

“Then you’re lucky,” she reveals, her words still ringing with the same crystal ball clarity from your childhood. “That means you haven’t come into direct contact with it yet. I’d hope you never would, but… you are your father’s daughter…”

You know your mom. You know that’s just her way of warning you about the kind of danger you’re in, here, but all the comment does is bolster your resolve. Damn right. You are his motherfuckin’ daughter.

“Tell me,” you push.

Beth sighs through her nose. There’s a squeak on the other line, and you can imagine her at home, dropping heavily into the massive, millennia-old armchair she always took her readings in.

“Demons… well, I won’t explain to you what you can already guess. They’re unlike most legends we know of, because everything that’s written about them is utterly true. Most spirits that walk the natural earth are here to feed—vampires, werewolves—or to take care of unfinished business. But demons… they come to earth to steal, kill, and destroy.”

Welp. Your mother is truly a pillar of optimism. You’d been hoping she’d say something along the lines of, don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re just really messed up ghosts. Instead of, y’know. The most evil creatures man encountered in the bible. Bible, capital B. An uncomfortable, existential shiver rolls down your spine. Now this was something you could bitch to Dean and Sam about.

You’d grown up surrounded by the idea of demons. Even before you’d fully understood that monsters were real, sometimes you’d slip into your mother’s reading parlor while she was gone and play a game with the strange, segmented star pattern on the giant worn-smooth carpet. Don’t hop on any of the lines! Only step in the points of the star! Or, jump from sigil to sigil!

The one time you’d gotten carried away and played for too long, your mother had appeared through the beaded curtain with a stiff frown on her face. Don’t play on the devil’s trap. It’s not a toy.

There was the fraying devil’s trap in your mother’s parlor room, which was one of the hundreds of sigils burned into your mind at a young age. You’d shaken hands with demon hunters before. Most of the rituals your family practiced were in Latin; and the list went on and on into oblivion. You’d always known demons existed, but as you pace the parking lot and take in what Beth is telling you, the ramifications start to stack. Demons. Actual, literal demons. The thing that took down flight 2485—the suffocating, unimaginable presence from your vision—was a real-life demon. When you’d stood in the skeletal remains of the plane and reached out with your Gift, you’d been sensing the lingering presence of a fucking creation of Lucifer. What the actual fuck.

In a strange, backward way, you’re kind of relieved. Anyone would be fainting all over the place in the presence of an actual, real-life demon. Especially somebody like you, with all their senses turned up to 100. It makes sense that you were having such intense reactions before.

What the fucking fuck. You’re suddenly grateful to be on the phone with your mom.

You wandered toward the Impala, (checked first that you weren’t wearing the kind of jeans with the little studs that would scrape the paint), then leaned against it. “...Um. Okay. That’s just… awesome… How do they get… up here, then?”

“I’m not sure,” your mother hums, thinking. “Your great-great-aunt Miriam wrote in her records that they find their way top-side on their own. Bugs through cracks, that sort of thing. Apparently, there used to be a whole lot more of em’—in Miriam’s day it was a Proctor’s job to shove them back where they belonged, but… I dunno.” Beth helpfully jokes, “Maybe we got most of them.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s not the most sincere. “Maybe we did,” you cough. “But, um, do we have any Proctor family secrets that could help me out here? Did great-great-aunt Miriam have a trunk somewhere full of demon-killing grenades or something?”

Beth smirks. “Great-great-aunt Miriam turned the house into a brothel and carved terrifying sigils in all the ceilings. That’s all we got from her.”

Of course. How could you possibly forget? “Oh, huh. I was wondering why we have old chains and whips in the basement. That fills in a lot more for me, thank you.”

Your mom barks out a laugh at your joke, which gets you laughing too. The sound trails off. There’s that funny pause where you both remember what you just said, then start giggling all over again—and man, does it feel good to just have a moment with your mom. The boys both have an unforgiving radar for “bonding,” and the second they realize that you love them and they’re your friends, they creep right back into their shells. Neither of them were very good at absorbing that sort of thing.

Your mom is just as skilled at spoiling the moment.

“But, seriously…” She stresses. “Please be careful. Avoid contact with these things at all costs, especially with your Gift. It’s made to find the truth, and demons are made of lies. Not a good mix. They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to. This is a lot more hands-on than you should ever be with your Gift, ____.”

“...Right,” you say through your teeth.

This is the part where you start awkwardly shoving in a goodbye without coming across as an asshole. You open your mouth, about to say something stiff and unsure, when you sense a spike of alarm ripple out from where the boys are still researching in your motel room.

Phone call forgotten, you jolt off the Impala and whip towards the door. Not a second later, Dean’s slipping out onto the stoop and sweeping the parking lot with a calm, guarded stare. He doesn’t look at you—just gestures you inside, holding the door open. Even from the parking lot, you can make out the insane amount of notes and papers Sam has coated your motel room with.

“Jerry just called,” Dean utters. “The surviving pilot from 2485? Chuck Lambert? …He just went down in a plane crash.”

You snap your phone shut and follow him inside.

-

The three of you head to the site of the next crash as fast as you can. But first, you have the pleasure of watching the boys play Winchester Telepathy when you insist on coming along. They’re still worried. You would be too, in their position. (In fact, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably chain Sam to a radiator and call it a day.) But Chuck went down in a twin plane, not a massive, two-hundred-person graveyard, so your Gift should have the legs to handle it.

…And knowing what you’re dealing with has steeled your confidence. You weren’t slashing at the dark anymore, even if what was in the dark was, um. Proof that hell exists. After days of being totally screwed over by this thing, you finally had even the slightest leg up on what was going on. You were going to take that win and run with it.

Chuck’s twin plane was hardly a twin anymore; both the engines had been shredded, the white body of the cockpit twisted like a wrung-out washcloth. The plane had dove so hard into the farmland that the snow around it had melted. You still kind of felt like tossing your lunch, but more out of sympathy than psychic backlash. People had been in that plane. The thought made you taste bile.

Sam and Dean only hover a little bit (a lot) while you open your Gift to the wreckage. You take your glove off with your teeth and touch your right hand to the ashen, snow-soaked remains of the pilot’s chair… and there it was again, the leeching, seeping, violating presence from the vision that’d brought all of you to Pittsburg. A demon.

Your Gift wrings out another scraggly, disconnected vision for you. Chuck was beyond anxious to get back in the saddle after 2485. The co-pilot, Lou, had pep-talked him like any good friend would, reassuring him that the flight would go smoothly. After that, everything—gassing up the engine, takeoff, and the brutal, horrific crash—was blotted with poison ink. Every time you tried to steer towards Chuck with your senses, it was as if the strip of film playing your vision had been burned away. His face had been scratched out of every frame. He had become something else; something terribly familiar.

The research Sam had compiled began to link with what you’re seeing. You could feel, even through the leftover wisp of the demon’s presence on the plane, that it had done this many times before.

You jolted to your feet, scrubbing the palm with the eye tattoo off on your slacks. Dean and Sam reeled back, since they’d both been looming an inch behind you as you worked.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean said, bracing himself.

You turn from the wreckage and bee-line straight for the road, eager to avoid a repeat of last time. The boys follow your lead. They fall into step on either side of you, and for once you feel like the specialist Sam always said you were, complete with stern-faced bodyguards.

“Full-on Pazuzu, just like last time,” you confirm, cursing. You shove your glove back on and stomp through the snow. “I-I get it now. God, it feels so fucking obvious. It’s—it’s playing. It finds these disasters, or it makes them, and then it picks off all the survivors one by one. Chuck Lambert, George Phelps. It possessed them. Like some sort of twisted cosmic-order thing.”

Sam pulls a face. “Final Destination style?”

“Minus the hot girls and the tanning beds, apparently,” Dean pouts.

“It’s trying to finish them off, boys,” you say, swallowing hard. “That’s something we can work with. If it’s only using disasters to do the job, then…”

“...then we need to see if any of the survivors are flying soon,” Sam realizes, finishing your thought.

The second the Impala’s on the road again, Sam is fishing out the passenger manifests from the first flight and chasing down any phone numbers he can find. There is a part of every hunt where your run is forced to become a sprint, and this is that turn-over moment, tensions ramping high. What once was seven people is now five.

As Dean hauls ass back to Pittsburg, you and Sam get to calling. You thank the Mother Goddess above for shitty, awful customer service, because posing as some lousy Delta Airlines representative has Dennis Holloway sitting in seat 21A and Kathleen Willard (seat 25E) swearing off flying for good. Sam uses a similar tactic on Blaine Sanderson (seat 14D). The two of you take the safe bet that the parents of Ava Struder (seat 1C), an unaccompanied minor, aren’t fucking idiots dumping their kid on another flight the second she survives one. That leaves you with Amanda Walker. A flight attendant on 2485… because of course, this job can never be easy.

Sam tries her phone. While it rings, you cross your fingers and hope that she has quit her job and started a new life as a dedicated couch potato. Sam’s forced to leave a message. He snaps his flip phone shut with a curse and throws it into the footwell, where it clatters against his boots.

You curl a cold hand around Sam’s shoulder, soothing, “Gimme the list, baby. I’ll try her emergency contact, at least find out where she is.”

Sam sulkily passes it to you, never once shifting under your hand. You do get a small, grateful look from him over his shoulder, and the urgency and anxiety there makes your gut twist. It would be more than easy to comfort him, to stroke your fingers through his hair, to rub his collar and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

But you’re a shit liar, so you open up your phone and make the next call. Sam’s lingering gaze ducks back down into his lap.

-

Of course, your luck continues to flourish. Amanda doesn’t answer her phone. But her sister does, and she informs you that Amanda, being a flight attendant, is in fucking Indianapolis for a flight. Indianapolis. As in, a good five-hour drive from Philly—and in the complete opposite direction of where you were going. Dean barely waits until the road is wide enough to turn the Impala around. The u-ey he hits sends you, and all your stuff, careening from the right end of the bench all the way to the left.

The drive is not fast. Staring ahead and silently revving yourself up can only waste so much time, so you pull out the mini sewing kit from under the seat and do your best to patch a rip in Dean’s jeans, struggling to thread the needle even more than usual. You feel a bit like a bad hunter distracting yourself from what’s ahead, but just one of you stuffing the car with anxious brooding is enough. Sam passes back a sudoku booklet for you and then goes straight back to his thousand-yard stare.

He used to be excellent when things came down to the wire like this. After years spent in empty motel rooms, counting pennies and waiting for John and Dean to come home, Sam’s patience was unimaginable. But losing Jess… had tilted his axis. These last few hunts, you’ve noticed how crazed he gets on the last couple steps to the finish line—when none of you are sure if there’ll be anybody to save. It happens. But you’re scared of what another round of it could do to Sam, even with a stranger like Amanda; he cared so much…

Dean isn’t happy, either, but he at least has something to do. He alternates between playing brain-melting Metallica or forgetting to reload the tape, so the drive is a strange mix of music you can feel in your eardrums and silence that’s just as loud. The first piece of levity you get is thirty straight minutes of Dean over-explaining the album to you. And, thank god you ask, because Dean rattling on about the “bass and drums feeding off each other” and the “musical integrity of a locked-in rhythms section” bring Sam out of his trance. He pries his eyes away from the rolling fields of snow, scrunches up his face, and sighs, “Can we at least listen to ‘...And Justice for All?’”

You’re an excellent tactician, so you use this opening to nudge them both toward the most surefire argument starter in the Winchester handbook: What’s the best album of all time? It would’ve been harder to lure flies into honey. Dean argues more with himself than he argues with the two of you, dancing indecisively between Zeppelin II, Dark Side of the Moon, and at least twenty other albums that you are vaguely aware exist. Sam outlines that there is a difference between someone’s favorite album (Californication in Sam’s case) and the best album objectively by sales (Thriller).

All three of you play into the argument more than usual. Guess you’re not the only one desperate to think about something other than the two hundred other people who might die tonight. By the time there’s enough of a break in the conversation for you to throw your hat into the distraction-ring, you’re thirty minutes from the Indianapolis International Airport.

“Both of you are wrong,” you decide. “There’s only one reasonable answer to that question, and it’s Rumours.”

Dean audibly grumbles, and when the Impala jams to a stop in front of a red light, he dramatically points at you in the rear-view mirrors and declares: “You are obligated by hippie, witchy-girl bullshit to love that album, Proctor. And it’s good, but it’s not the best. It’s mostly…” he flashes you a mean, big-brother smile, “girly music.”

You know you’re right, so his comment rolls right over you. Cooly, you remind him, “Nuh-uh. Sam loves Fleetwood Mac, too.”

You’d figured that was a good counter-point, since Sam was hardly girly. The hand he was using to keep his notepad on his knee was all kinds of veiny and calloused, and on top of being taller than Dean, he was a lot more comfortable with his masculinity. He didn’t have mile-long lashes or glazed donut cheekbones, either.

Sam hums in agreement, like you knew he would; the two of you listened to Go Your Own Way and The Chain endlessly before he left for school. Sometimes he’d even dance around the attic at home with you.

Dean side-eyes his brother, then barks out a hearty laugh. “Case in point.”

Sam elects to pretend he didn’t hear that, and instead turns around to talk straight to you: “I mean, the end of Silver Springs alone…”

…Maybe if Dean listened to more “girly music,” he’d have more women melting over him the way you melt when Sam says that. Even though you’ve gotten used to having him in front of you again, there are moments like these where you’re stunned by how similar the two of you still are. Dreams would play in your attic and Sam would already be offering you his hands, gangly and shy and bright red for you and only you…

You listened to Silver Springs a lot after Sam started dating Jessica.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 4th, night.

All three of you must’ve been hyper-planning what to do the second the Impala parked, because you fan out as soon as Dean jams the break.

Sam uncaps the travel-sized hand sanitizer from your purse and empties it out onto the pavement. You’re a little sad to say goodbye to pumpkin cupcake, but then he starts pouring as much holy water as he can into the teeny bottle, and you’re reminded how clever he is. When Dean gives him a weird look, Sam explains, “3.4 ounces or less per liquid item, dude.”

“Shit,” Dean curses. Right. Travel size restrictions. That cuts your only physical weapon against the demon in half—or into a fucking fifth, I guess. But it’s something. “At least he’ll fuckin’ smell good when we send him to hell. Great.”

You give Sam the marshmallow pumpkin latte sanitizer, too. You’re going to look painfully suspicious walking into an airport with nothing but hand sanitizer and an occult journal, but there’s nothing you can do. There’s no time to check bags or trudge through security lines. Hopefully you won’t have to board, but knowing your luck…

You’re about to go peeling out of the parking lot at top speed, when you turn your boot and feel the warm piece of metal pressed against your ankle. Shit. “God, this is stupid,” you curse, and drop onto a knee. You lose the pocket knife in your boot, then dig around for the loose rock salt shells rolling around in your pockets. There’s a visible pout on your face when you abandon your iron knuckles. Anything that’d be caught by security or picked up on a metal detector goes straight into the trunk.

When you pull your butterfly knife out of your bra, Sam is suddenly very interested in the color of the sky.

The boys follow suit. By the time you’re through the doors and among the harried, criss-crossing crowd of travelers, you’ve lost ten pounds in weapons each. Dean grumbles the whole way about feeling naked. Everything in the airport is overstimulating, even at this time of night. The long, endless squares of glass looking out over the runway reflect the too-bright lights in big glossy spots, and the air is flooded with a constant stream of intercom updates and civilian chatter. You duck and weave all the way to the departure schedule, which is just the right font size to make you anxious.

Sam scans the chart. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

Shit. You wrack your mind for something that could coax Amanda off her flight. But the gears in your head are suddenly muddy, and Dean’s faster than you, anyway. His eyes dart around the floor of the airport. “Okay… we still got some cards to play. We need to find a phone.”

Sam and Dean dart off like twin bomb-sniffing dogs. You move to follow them, but something tethers you in place. The buzzing, bustling commotion in the air pitches up, and then your ears are ringing, and your whole body is stinging with the ugly leeching feelings from before. The demon. It’s close.

You blindly walk in the direction your internal Winchester compass gives you, and just when Dean’s about to take a courtesy phone off its hook, your body extracts the phone from his hand on autopilot. For a brief flickering moment, you’re not yourself. Your powers talk through you.

Your Gift foresees, “That won’t work. Your only option is to board the plane.”

The boys exchange an unsettled look. For a second you’re confused why they’re giving you their Freaked Out faces, then you feel the hollow plastic of the phone in your hand, and you realize you’re a whole twenty feet from where you started. Man… you hate the whole psychic-possession thing. Just for fun, your Gift loves to take over and course-correct you when it thinks you’re being stupid. You drop the phone back on its hook with a heavy click. It takes Dean a second to answer, and he’s still giving you that look. After a long pause, he knocks up his chin and not-so-happily mutters, “...Uh, okay.”

Sam, at least, has learned to roll with your weird psychic bullshit. His voice is soft with conviction. “Fine. Plan B, then. We gotta get on that plane.”

You run your palms down your face, then steel yourself. There’s no other way, and no time to second-guess. Even your Gift has decided it’s your best plan. “Okay. Fuck it.”

The usual authority in Dean’s voice hikes up with a note of panic. “Uh, woah. Let’s just hold on a second–”

“Dean,” you wince, and your hands drop heavily at your sides. “We gotta. I’m sorry.”

Sam, per usual, reads Dean’s hesitance as something else. “That plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board. And if we’re right, it’s gonna crash. We have to–”

You watch as they have their usual back and forth; Sam, eager to throw himself at this, and Dean gnawing on the inside of his cheek. It’s easy for you to sense the steam of real, nail-biting terror radiating off your best friend. You feel Dean’s fear all the time–and even then it’s hard for you to picture him being afraid of much of anything, much less planes. It’s even harder for Sam to look past his little brother glasses.

“...Flying?” Sam puts it together. His voice is understanding, but super confused. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dean flails. He fists his hands as he talks, swaying back and forth to try and work up the nerve. He glances at you, the only other witness to his weakness, just once. “Why do you think I fuckin’ drive everywhere, Sam?”

Sam is genuinely stunned. Slapped-in-the-face stunned. But he takes it in stride, and, also glancing at you only once, he blurts out: “Alright. Uh, I’ll go.”

The anticipation of boarding the flight is making your skin prickle with anxiety, and you can’t help but inch back toward the ticket counter as they talk. But when Sam says this, without question or complaint, you’re instantly stepping up to his side and demanding, “Then I’m going with you.”

You brace yourself to shut down the argument you know is coming, but this Sam continues to be different from the guy you knew four years ago. This answer is just as easy for him, too. “Okay.”

Not, you’re staying here, or even, I won’t let you risk yourself like this. Just a plain and simple, okay. It bugs you. You don’t even have time to dwell on it, though, because Sam’s blatant courage tugs Dean over his fear.

“Man…” Dean utters, face twisted with nervousness. He gives in with a helpless scrunch of his shoulders, and taking that as permission, Sam twists around to buy your tickets not two seconds later.

You both watch him rush off, neither of you over the moon about this situation. Dean’s so anxious that his hands are clammy, and you can tell because he clutches at the sleeve of your jacket like a little kid. He knocks his forehead down on your shoulder with a groan, and your palm automatically loops around to give his back a soothing rub.

“This is fucking… awesome,” Dean gripes. “No guns. Can’t even bring a damn bottle of holy water. Is there some kind of psychic Xanax you can give me?”

Maybe some of your Gift drains into your voice when you promise, “We won’t have to worry about that. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dean doesn’t make his Freaked Out face this time. He does, however, bump his forehead against your shoulder again, and sink into your touch with a rough sigh.

FLIGHT 424 - Dec. 4th.

You’d felt bad for Dean the whole time he’d struggled to get on the plane. Now, you kind of felt like choking him with your bare hands.

So many people crammed into one space was enough to flatten your Gift with the weight. Adding Dean to the mix, shoved shoulder-to-shoulder against you with his jitters ramped up to eleven, made you feel like picking your brain out with a fork. Your Gift ping-ponged between Dean and Sam, making you bounce between chattering your teeth with fear and thinking things like, wow, I just love the Dewey decimal system.

Maybe it was a good thing. You’d much rather be in one of their heads than yours.

All day, you’d done a pretty good job not obsessing over the things your mom had said over the phone. It was hard with so much time to marinate in the car, but the massive weight of the existence of demons only slammed on top of you once or twice. Boarding had managed to keep you occupied, but then the colossal body of the plane had shuddered and heaved its weight off the tarmac, leaving all chances for escape behind on the ground.

A part of you was resigned to it; it is a simple fact of your life that evil things are real. So what’s one more, right? But at the same time, you thought about the cross Sam wore under his shirt… you thought about being one of those things, being “made of lies,” like Mom had said. That, too, had been gnawing at you—what had she seen to learn all that? How did she know that a demon would “tear into your mind?” The Vague Psychic Thing is fun, until you’re on the receiving end.

“Can you sense who it’s possessing?” Sam’s smooth, calculating voice interrupted your thoughts.

…Oh, right. You’d gotten so swept up in your own head, no doubt influenced by Dean’s incessant foot-tapping, that you’d totally forgotten to scan the plane. Tilting away from Dean and his panic, you subconsciously shifted toward eerily calm, level-headed Sam. Just catching a wisp of the clean cologne he wears cools you down a little bit. Okay. No more freaking out—it’s game time.

You’d hoped that the white noise of the flight would settle your nerves, but the air tasted painfully sterile, dry, and cottony against the back of your throat. Everything felt like cold metal touching an open nerve. If the demon’s influence wasn’t making your powers touchy, then the woman across the aisle definitely was, oozing with homesickness as she watched Indianapolis shrink far below—or maybe it was the guy two rows back, replaying an argument again and again in his head—or maybe the other two hundred fucking people stuffing the plane with their boredom and their tiredness.

You push your knee into Sam’s. He pushes back.

After a tense beat, you whisper to him over the chatter of passengers, “Too many people. There’s no way I can narrow it down to one person—not unless they’re right in front of me.” Sam’s gaze turns expectantly to Dean, who’s still in full-on dissociation mode. He’d spent the whole boarding process humming tracks from St. Anger, and you knew he was really going through it, purely because he’d stopped and restarted Some Kind of Monster three different times now. Poor guy.

One of the things that made the three of you such a natural team was your ability to rotate leadership. In moments like these, with Dean way too wigged out to take charge, you’d usually step into his shoes without much trouble. But Sam has fielded your fainting spells and panic attacks all week, so he’s already got a pep-talk prepared for the two of you.

“...Okay.” Sam checks his watch. His voice still has that touch of classic Sam softness, probably because he knows how hard this is going to sound: “Stay focused. We got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, figure out who it’s possessing, and perform a full-on exorcism.” You’re about to make a comment about how blissfully easy he makes things seem, but Dean beats you to it. He snipes, “Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy.”

You snap one of your bracelets against your wrist a few times, thinking. “Who would it want to possess?”

This gets Dean’s head in the game. Easily, he recites: “It’s usually somebody with some sort’a weakness, y’know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

As he explains this, you unlatch Dean’s claws from their death-grip on your arm and give the top of his hand a little soothing pat. Your gaze remains fixed on the pattern of the seat in front of you. “For a regular demon, maybe. This thing might not even need a chink. It wants maximum damage here—so maybe it’d go for the pilot?”

This is not a soothing thought. Checking his watch again, Sam suggests, “Or Amanda… Surviving a crash like that? I’d be pretty messed up if I was her. We should check both.”

You’re happy to spend the little time you have left wisely, so you’re quick to push out of your seat and get moving. Dean puts on a brave face and follows your lead. There are only two ends of the plane to check—this thing can’t hide forever. Just when you start to do an awkward side-shuffle to nudge Dean out into the aisle with your hip, the whole plane thrashes top to bottom, and there he goes, dropping like a rock back into his seat. His spike of panic is so genuine that you end up dropping with him.

“Come on!” Dean hisses through his teeth. “That can’t be normal!”

You and Sam immediately get to shushing and soothing him, and suddenly you understand how married couples feel when their kid starts crying on a flight. Shifty eyes in other seats pretend they’re not glaring at you. Summoning as much strength as you can to share with him, you drop a hand on Dean’s shoulder and order: “Breathe, dude. You’re okay.”

“I’m not fuckin’ four,” Dean whisper-shouts, sulking flat back into his seat.

“She’s right,” Sam whispers back. Should it be worrying you how much he’s been agreeing with you lately? Stern, he says, “Listen—if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to possession. So you need to calm yourself down. Right now.”

A weird part of you is grateful that Dean is having a rough go of it, because it’s giving you something to focus on. You’re usually pretty good with planes. But for a minute there, when the turbulence had hit, your mind had defaulted to oh shit, this is real, we’re all going to die. A slideshow of the last crash had blitzed through your thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the anxiety you were picking up from Dean.

You know you despise it when Dean uses his Parent Voice on you, so you try not to use it on him when you urge, “C’mon. I think Amanda’s in the back of the plane. I’ll check up front.”

Dean gives an unconvinced, “I’ll go talk to her,” then makes grabby hands at Sam’s pockets, “pass me one of the hand-sanitizers. Fuckin’ uh, pumpkin latte—don’t gimme that face, _____, not all of us can tell with just a look. What if it’s in her?”

“It’s a bit more than a look—” you begin to clarify, but Sam stops your back and forth with a shake of his head. He pulls out the little orange plastic container of your pumpkin cupcake holy water and passes it to Dean.

“We should try to conserve what we got,” he warns, passing you the only other weapon against the demon (marshmallow pumpkin latte). “Go more subtle—if she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of god.”

Now that you’re running out of both time and options, the second Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out into the aisle on coltish legs, you take the opening and bolt out of your cramped middle seat. Anything you can do to get closer to finding this thing will make you feel loads better.

You start down the aisle. As the chatter of the boys fades into the all-encompassing thrum of the plane behind you, you take slow unhurried steps past each row of seats, soaking up what you can get. A girl listens to music in her headphones. A businessman clicks away at his laptop. Each of them you comb over with your powers, and each pass feels like scooping your hand into a bowl of tacks and waiting to get stabbed.

They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to, Mom had said. You waited for that moment, steeling your nerves the closer you came to the cockpit. If the demon’s on this side of the plane, and it sensed you, would it immediately press into your mind? Would just being near you snap its presence to you like a magnet? You didn’t like the mental feeling that gave you; the stark secret-seeking white of your Gift clashing with the black choking smoke that’d been chasing you all week. When you spoke to a spirit through your Gift, it felt like you were touching fingertips through a curtain. Would it be like that? Would this demon press its claws through the veil and dig around for something to tear, to grab?

The other flight attendant on board pushes past you with her cart, leaving no barrier between you and the cockpit. Behind you, bobbing in a sea of blurry people, your Gift could distinctly make out Sam (practicing the exorcism) and Dean (talking to Amanda). You’re just a few paces from the front exit of the plane when a man emerges from the bathroom cabin, and—

He twists to meet eyes with you. Expecting you.

You’re flashed a clever, haunting smile, then—a set of glossy void-black eyes.

You wait for it. And in its own way, the presence of the demon does overpower you, bringing the heavy-as-the-sky, parasitic feeling from your visions into the real world. For a long ringing moment, you are blasted with dark leeching power hot enough to singe the entire front of your body—like a nuclear bomb had dropped down just a few steps from you. It is spidery and vicious and knowing and awful—

…but the conquering sensation never comes. Beth had said that it would root into your mind, that just feeling it with your Gift, as you are right now, would tear you to pieces. Yet all that really happens is you staring at it and it staring at you, before it shoulders its way through the cockpit door and disappears inside. The only thing you really experience is the shock of seeing it in somebody, puppeting around a person with dreams and thoughts and memories.

For a few moments, you suck down heaving breaths through your nose and stare at the closed door.

Something about it nagged at you. Besides the obvious—how different it felt compared to what your mother had described—you swear you felt something else, some ringing sense of strangeness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the fact that you’d just made eye contact with a real creature of hell, an evil spirit, whatever. But you made eye contact with evil spirits all the time. This was… closer to home than that. Underneath the writhing mass of bloody, black ink that made up the demon, your Gift had recognized something unimaginably familiar.

Sensing the demon in person had reminded you of… of a sensory memory, almost. It smelled like… warm static. The old staticy TV in your house, the ancient one that sat square and unattractively on your Mom’s slanting sideboard in the living room. You remembered her crystal ashtray propped up on the top, the fizzy sound the TV made when you’d shut it off…

On the nights when it was just you and Sam home, and the house felt so big and empty that the silence throbbed in your ears, the two of you would set up a fort in front of that TV and watch old horror movies well past your bedtime. The silly effects and the dated acting were easy to tease together. You’d much rather watch movies on the newer screen in your Mom’s room, but for whatever reason, Sam insisted on the clunker in your living room.

Y’wanna know somethin’ cool? He’d asked you once, running a finger through the film of static bubbling on the surface of the glass. A little bit of the static in TVs is actually radiation leftover from the Big Bang. How weird is that? Something so old and powerful, picked up by this random piece of junk.

Sam always crashed first, leaving you alone with the white static the TV defaulted to when the movie ended. You could vividly remember how your shoulders bumped against the hard floor through the thin sleeping bag the two of you had shared—how Sam’s warmth had seeped into your shirt where he was curled up behind you, his soft sleepy breaths tickling your hair.

When you’d pulled his arm around your waist to snuggle, a spark of static had shocked you through his touch. When you’d closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep, you swore that the ancient, cosmic hum of the static in the TV ebbed and flowed at the same exact time as Sam’s breath.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh. Crackling as he breathed.

It wasn’t the demon you were scared of anymore. The ancient, ever-present sting of static you’d felt deep down inside it… that scared you a million, a billion times more, because—

You felt that static every time you felt Sam.

_

It’s like trying to describe the smell of your childhood home.

Logically, you know your house must smell like something. But when you’re in one place long enough your brain filters it out as background noise, and it becomes something you can only notice after a long time away.

You’d known Sam since you were in diapers. Back then, the meager threads of your Gift were already taking him in and absorbing him into your memory. Eventually, you felt him so often that all the pain and optimism in his core, all the stuff that made Sam himself, had smoothed out into warm, familiar background noise to your Gift.

Then he’d left for Stanford. Four years passed, and the only exposure your Gift had to him was the flimsy thread stretched two thousand miles down to California. Because it’d been so long since you’d sensed him in person, hugging him outside his apartment had been like stepping into your home after a long time away—for a brief moment, the filter over your psychic perceptions of him had lifted. You’d sensed for the first time what had always been there, buried deep. The Static.

At the time, you’d gotten so swept up in Sam, Dean, and the adventure of finding their Dad, that it was easy to get sidetracked. Things came up. You got used to Sam again, and his Static faded to background noise.

Until you’d felt that demon with your Gift.

A demon. A creation of Lucifer. You’d always remember what Sam felt like—you’d never forget the smell of home—but in one of them?

Your mind whirls with so many questions that it flat-out pops, failing you. Pulled along on a cloud of white noise, you somehow manage to turn away from the cockpit and start back down the aisle. The demon is possessing the pilot. You have forty minutes, less than, to exorcize it and save the two hundred people on this flight. These are all truths floating around in your head, but no matter how much you try to circle back to one, the static of the demon overcomes you again.

Static. You think of Sam, the crackle of his soft raspy voice through the phone. Your heart is pounding in your ears, thudding away in your chest like a piston. The static had burned in the demon, burned like busted speakers and smoking plane wreckage. Little pins all over your skin pressing in. The space you have until you make it to Sam’s seat seems to yawn, your footfalls sluggish and shivery. Why do they feel the same? Why does he feel the same? The static of the demon worms under your fizzing skin, bubbling, boiling—

You stop in front of Sam’s row, and he’s already looking at you when you get close. He asks you a question. You stare at him, the whole world filled with that awful roaring buzzing, the air tight and dessert dry in the back of your throat. Even though he’s right in front of you, you feel like you barely see him—just the vague burning outline of him in your powers.

Sam reaches out to grab your wrist, tugging it away from the long marks you’re viciously scratching into the flesh of your arm. The touch of his hand causes a literal static shock to jolt from his fingers to yours. You yelp in surprise, but it’s—

It’s different. There’s a similarity, definitely, between what you sensed in the demon and what’s always been in Sam… but his Static is hot chocolate warm and fuzzy and so good. Melt-in-your-mouth good. Your surroundings filter back in, and there are his soft, worried eyes looking up at you under his brow, and his big hand soothing over the irritated skin you’ve scratched raw. Sam. The same Sam he’s always been.

…Whatever it is, whatever weird connection you’ve just made, you’re sure there’s a lot more to it than Sam having something in common with a demon. Right?

Sam takes one look at you, your insane reaction, and your mysterious reappearance, then easily puts two and two together: “One of the pilots?”

“Co-pilot,” you tell him, and one of your absent-minded hands drifts up to scratch at your arm again.

And again, Sam fishes his fingers around your wrist and pulls it away. Now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t un-notice it. His touch makes your fingertips and the ends of your ears tingle, and not completely in the boy-crush way. In the psychic way.

He asks, “You gonna be okay? We got twenty-two minutes.”

That jolts you back to life. Twenty-two minutes until this plane is smoking ashes in a Pennsylvania cornfield. Though the last ten minutes have easily overcomplicated all twenty-four years of your life, you won’t have a life period if you don’t see this job through. When Dean returns from investigating a very un-possessed Amanda, he feels the exact same way.

Your resolve hardens, and you manage to give Sam an absent-minded smile. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s no time for arguing. Dean and Sam unanimously agree that the only possible place to exorcize the demon would be in the back, where Amanda is, since you can’t exactly jump the guy in the middle of economy. You don’t exactly like the idea of roping her into this, but Amanda’s the only one who could potentially lure that—thing to the rear of the plane. It is the world’s shittiest ambush. But by the time the three of you decide what to do, you’ve burned ten whole minutes on anxious chatter. A shitty ambush is the only plan you’ve got.

Dean starts down the aisle for the back of the plane. You stare at nothing for a beat, and only remember to get out of your seat when Sam nudges your elbow. He presses his lips together like he wants to ask you the million-dollar question (“Are you sure you’re okay?”), but there is literally no time. In a haze, you shuffle out of your seat after Dean and make a feeble attempt to get your head into gear. Sam does not make it easy. One of his broad hands brushes against the small of your back as you both squeeze out of the row, and you feel like you’ve just gone down one of those static-charged plastic playground slides.

Your Gift is exaggerating it. It has to be, right? Making big connections out of little things, picking at a fresh bruise. For weeks, you’ve been crammed into a little car with Sam, into teeny motel beds with him with no room between you. Why hadn’t you felt it? Why now? Not when you were four, napping in the same bed after playtime—not when you were twelve, and Sam was the first person outside your family that your Gift had connected with. Had it always been there, living inside him? Had you missed it?

You reach the back of the plane. Amanda is there, a pale, blonde flight attendant straight out of a commercial. You are dully aware that you have twelve minutes left before the demon makes its move, always on the forty-minute mark (...and you don’t like the line suddenly drawn between Sam and such an old, biblically evil thing).

The boys talk. A familiar conversation occurs over your head, which might be why it’s easy for you to tune out. Your mind returns again to thoughts of Sam, so intense and loud in your head that it all fizzles out to nothing, and you’re left standing there with the air pressure making your ears ring. Sam. The demon. It’s stupid and intangible and you’d have no fucking clue how to explain it out loud, but your Gift is made to find the truth. Something inside that demon exists in Sam, too. Something.

You try to reassure yourself that maybe, just this once, your Gift is wrong. Maybe this is the demon getting into your mind—learning your deepest fears and bringing them to life.

Sure enough, Dean’s charm and Sam’s earnest face must win Amanda over, because she flits out of the back room like a frightened bird. The boys peer through the curtain to watch her go, the two of them as still and sharp-eared as twin watchdogs. You’re slapped back to life by the sudden tension in the room, and quickly scuttle up behind them. Right. Amanda’s getting the co-pilot. These next ten minutes will determine the rest of your life.

In the same beat, you and Dean ready your holy water, and Sam gets the written exorcism from their dad’s journal out in front of him. There’s no need for the three of you to say a word. An understanding passes between each of you, hammered in from years of hunting as a team. Sam slides up next to you and Dean gives you a firm nod, squashing your last wisps of fear. You’re here to do a damn job.

A man’s voice floats toward the closed curtain to the back room, followed not-so-closely by Amanda’s. You’re glad she’s not the first one into the room—because Dean instantly slams a fist into their face.

The co-pilot—or really, the thing inside him—goes sprawling. You’ve got a strip of duct tape bridled over his mouth before he even fully collides with you, and for the blissful moment you have him pinned, Dean gets another fierce hit in.

While he’s still stunned, you whip the co-pilot to the grated metal floor. Dean clambers on top of him and keeps him there with a firm fist twisted in his rumpled button-up.

Amanda panics, “W-what are you doing? Y-you said you we-were gonna talk to him—!”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean grits.

Then, you’re hosing him down with holy water, splashing it brutally in the man’s pain-twisted face. Your gut clenches with empathy. Did the demon leave his body already? You’re terrified for a moment that you got the wrong guy… until you smell the smoke. It’s not just sulfur, but full-on dead body bloat, steaming up from the big black boils that spring up where the holy water hits skin. You get a mouth and noseful vile enough to make you gag. This thing fighting you? This is definitely not a man.

Amanda watches the demon’s skin sizzle, the usual terror and confusion on her face. “O-oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

You pour all the psychic clarity and calmness into your voice when you whip around and tell her: “It’s going to be okay. Be calm, go outside the curtain, and don’t let anybody in. Can you do that, Amanda?”

You don’t stop to listen to her answer. Sam’s already tearing through the opening to the exorcism at ninety miles an hour, his pronunciation punchy and fatally clear. That had been one of the less exciting parts of the five-hour drive here; when Sam had run through it over and over, re-training himself. One misspoken word could get everyone on this plane killed.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”

The demon thrashes viciously in your grip, twisting and contorting under Dean in ways the human body can’t bend. Bile rises in your throat as you hear a snap, then two, as the demon does everything it can to buck Dean off. By the time you go to stun it with another splash of holy water, it’s more of a dribble. That’s your first mistake.

Two people are not nearly enough to keep this thing down. It gets a hand loose that instantly sends Dean flying, and before you even see where he lands, it cranks your head all the way to the left in one vicious slap.

Your whole face is blasted with red, stinging pain. You go down hard, smashed sideways into the cramped wall.

The pain stuns you out of the headspace you built to distract yourself, and all at once the presence of the demon is thrust upon you. The black, molten psychic power of it crackles through your body, filling your nose and mouth with the same terror hanging in your visions all week. Until you realize— It fucking backhanded you.

Trying to see past the dots swimming in your vision, you mindlessly shove off the wall, snarling with rage. No fucking way.

And then it speaks (to Sam?), and in the fizzing noise of pressure in your ears you hear it promise, “I know what happened to your girlfriend!” The constant stream of Sam’s exorcism stops cold.

When the demon speaks again, its voice, a spectral twist of the co-pilot’s and something older, drooled with pleasure. “She died screaming,” it rasped, “Even now, she's burning.”

A lot happens in the next precious seconds. First, the little circular light flushed flat to the back cabin’s ceiling explodes. Just—bursts, in shock, spraying sparks and glass all over the little room. You’re stunned enough as it is getting hit in the face, so one more thing to fuck up your vision doesn’t help. But you heard what the demon said to Sam. Through the suffocating evil flooding your mind, you feel the sharp spike of hurt and rage and grief in your best friend—and that’s the precise moment when you decide that you’ve had e-fucking-nough.

These last few days have not been winners. And though you live a pretty shitty life with an impressive amount of shitty days, even before you got to Pennsylvania, your streak of bad luck had only just gotten started. This demon has screwed with your Gift on an unimaginable level. Your last few nights have been plagued with nightmares straight from hell, and your days haven’t been much better, riddled with useless visions that get more and more disconnected every time you faint. It made it even more obvious than usual that you’re deadweight for Sam and Dean. They had to handle your boiling water burns and your freakouts, not to mention your mood swings and your unhelpful visions.

The demon hurt Dean, which is enough to get your teeth grinding. And Sam—it had cut him much deeper.

You wanted to tear it apart. You wanted to reach into it the same way it had reached into you, dig in with your nails, and rip something out. Your mom’s words buzz in your head: contact, truth, lies, rip, apart. Rationally, you know you should listen to her warning. If just looking into its eyes has forever changed your view of the man you’ve loved since you were little, then looking deeper could kill you—scramble your mind. You know that. But beside the rage and exhaustion fizzing under your skin is this desperate need to know.

Demons are made of lies. What if it was lying about Sam? What if it had screwed with your Gift in some new way, tweaking the image of him in your mind? It had to be lying. The Static in him, as warm and as good as you swore it was—it came from something evil. Sam. The man you love, the boy you’d fallen in love with, his soft sleepy breaths as he lays on the floor beside your bed, his freckly arms swimming in his too-big sleeves. How could any part of him be evil? He couldn’t be. N-not your Sam. How could he ever have something like that inside him?

You need to be sure. Consequences be damned.

As the demon rears up to keep snarling in Sam’s face, you slap a hand over its forehead—reach in—and start ripping.

_

She died screaming.

Sam can’t pull a full breath in. The words burn through his body like a syringe of poison, spreading from limb to limb. The demon snarls up at him, its foamy spit hitting Sam’s face and its teeth snapping around Jess’s name—until.

_____’s hand seals over the demon’s face. The demon’s jaw snaps shut. There is a terrible hanging moment where Sam’s brain struggles to connect the touch to what she’s doing; she never, ever psychically connected with the full face of her palm tattoo. Even with her mom Sam knew she put up a barrier, reading Beth with the smooth back of her knuckles instead.

Shit. Another fresh shot of horror lances through him. What the hell is she doing to it?

The effect is instant. Whatever button _____ had just hit, it activates every horror-movie, Exorcist-level instinct in the demon’s body. Surprised yelps echo down the back of the plane as the lights violently flicker. In electrified, strobing flashes, Sam sees it. The co-pilot’s body is diagonal on the floor one moment, and then it’s arching its back three feet in the air, lurching up into ______’s palm like she’d hit it with a defibrillator. The demon floats up and stays up.

…Until Dean brings it smashing back to the floor again, throwing his weight on top of the co-pilot. He barks, “Sam!” Right. Whatever she’s doing to it, it’s the only working distraction they’ve got. Slapped back to focus, Sam stutters out where he left off: “...O-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—” It’s a blessing that he makes it through the next lines of the exorcism. Sam pours all of his willpower into keeping his eyes on the stained notebook page it’s written on, no matter how many times his gut begs him to check on her. All he can do is have faith. This is what she does—when Dean’s not strong enough and Sam’s too weak, she finds a damn way, come hell or high water. Sam has always had endless faith in that. So when the whole plane gives that terrible shudder that he was expecting, and then tips, and tips, and tips into a full pitch forward, Sam grips that faith with both hands. The demon’s power ripples through the rest of the plane. Everything descends into chaos. Past the curtain, the lights go out in one silent burst, followed by the explosive, concussive screams of the passengers as the oxygen masks drop. Movies are unfortunately good at capturing this precise moment, but nothing could ever replicate the way Sam’s belly swoops as all five hundred tons of the plane heads straight for the ground. Sam and Dean both go flying, crashing sideways into the walls of the back cabin. The turbulence rips the journal from his hands, and of course, with their fucking luck, it goes skidding through the curtain and down the aisle to ricochet under the seats. “Grab it!” Dean screams.

Sam can’t hear him. He staggers into the open doorway of the back cabin, clutching the frame for dear life. A terrifying, unnatural howl whistles through the cabin, even louder than the wails of the passengers. Its wind flutters his hair around his face and sends luggage toppling out of the overhead bins. For a moment, Sam wonders if the plane’s been hit or the demon has done something—but no. It’s her. He flattens himself to the floor—or rather, gravity flattens him—crawling on his belly towards the shadow of the journal under the seats. The passengers sob and shriek. The air is singed with smoky fear, and riding that same fear, Sam surges ahead, lunging for the book where it’s lodged between tossed luggage. He has to twist to get his hands on it, and it’s then that he feels it.

Down the aisle behind him, the wind drags luggage and loose papers into the void-like darkness of the back cabin—where the great, cleansing, sweeping power of her is fighting the demon. Sam believes in what he’s seen; Sam believes in angels.

She’ll buy him enough time. He knows she will.

Sam’s hands don’t shake as he pries the journal open to the right page.

“Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus,” he shouts, and the words ring as clear and clean as a bell. The plane tries to toss him again, but Sam grits his teeth and persists, “audi nos!”

He waits. Sam sees it more than he hears it. Deep in the blackhole darkness of the plane’s cabin, something red and fiery flashes to life… flickers… and dies.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears he feels the demon fizzle out. The heaviness in the air melts away. The lights, which Sam realizes had been snapping on and off, turn on for good. The hissing of the turbines spins to its normal hum. The plane swooshes back up with a slow coasting motion, then sets itself back on its peaceful forward track.

Gasps and sobs of relief chorus all around Sam, and sprawled in the middle of the aisle, he finds himself doing the same. Overhead, the pilot’s voice crackles reassurances over the intercom. As big wuffs of air cycle in and out of Sam, he waits for the moment for his heart to stop thumping, for the big “we won” moment to wash over him—but it never really does. It sits with him. For a long terrible moment, he is on the bed in his apartment in Palo Alto, Jessica’s blood boiling holes in his neck.

Even now, she’s still burning.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 5th, early morning.

Somehow, amid all the noise of swarming paramedics, feds, airline authorities, and stunned 424 passengers, Sam manages to remain lost in his own head. He clenches his jaw til’ his ears pop. How had it known about Jess?

The terminal is quickly packed. He’s not in airports often enough to know whether they should be packed at one in the morning, but he’s gonna guess not. It is all background noise for him. Passengers whirl past, getting cleared by cops to go home, and Dean subtly nudges the three of them into the leaving crowd. Sam has a vague notion that he’s putting one foot in front of the other, but everything feels distant and hazy. His neck blazes with that terrible tingling feeling, and he digs into it with his nails until Dean stops him.

“Sam,” Dean orders, dipping his head towards the direction of the parking lot. Apparently Sam isn’t cooperating well. “Let’s get the hell outta’ here.” For a brief moment, the awful burning feeling covering him in a fog parts long enough for him to think, and Sam realizes that he doesn’t know where _____ is. Panic lances through his chest so fast that he sobers all at once, and he opens his mouth to panic more—until he sees her, scrunched up behind Dean.

Well, clutching Dean. Left shameless by whatever she saw in that demon’s head, she’s got Dean’s hand and wrist in a deathgrip, trailing him so close that her shoes catch the heels of his boots. She does not look good. Her eyes are big and wide and she looks straight through everyone and everything, still tethered to the other dimension her powers live in. She’s got her elbows pressed into her ribs and her body bunched up so tight that Sam can almost feel her psychic overstimulation from where he’s standing.

“S’okay, sweetheart, ” Dean hushes, the first in a long, quiet string of reassurances.

Sam stares at her. Even if she’s in her own world, she must be able to feel it, ‘cause she physically leans out of his way. That should hurt him—should make him burn with sympathy—but instead, all he can think is, she would know. She would know if the demon was lying. Sam’s connected with her like that—there’s absolutely nothing to hide, even if you wanted to, so there’s no way she couldn’t see if the demon had been telling the truth.

The line of people seeping through security to get out of the airport slows to a stop, making way for the pack of paramedics hauling 424’s copilot away on a stretcher. The black boils from the holy water have left his body entirely.

He’ll ask her once. He has to try. Sam lets the two of them in front of him, Dean, then _____, almost pressing her face into Dean’s back. When they’re stopped in line, Sam lifts a hand to touch her—but stops himself, not wanting her to feel any worse. “_____,” Sam swallows, trying to keep his voice even. “What did you see? H-How did it know about Jessica?”

Before she even has the opportunity to answer, (if she can even hear him), Dean swings around to shoot Sam a pained look. “Dude, look at her. Now is not the fuckin’ time. Let her get a full breath in before you start with the interrogations, okay?”

Sam recoils. The gnashing, rebellious fire he usually saves for Dad pours out here, instead, and before Sam knows it he’s snarling back, “I can’t ask one question about my dead girlfriend?”

It lasts only for an instant, but Sam gets to watch in real time the way that hit lands. He’s aware that it’s deeply fucked up of him to enjoy throwing Jess in Dean’s face, but it is his backward, comforting reminder that she was a real person; not a four-year-long fever dream he invented to escape. No one says her name but him anymore. At least, when he talks about her, someone else is forced to feel something too.

Dean sets his jaw. He makes the mistake of trying to turn towards Sam, which _____ thinks is an attempt to shake her off—and she lets out this awful, hoarse sob sound that stops them both cold.

Sam feels like a rail spike has been driven through his chest. Dean gives him a look, then mercifully drops it.

Immediately, Dean’s wheeling her back in and soothing her. The angle at which she’s clinging to him is awkward for all three of them, so he endures her trembling and hitching little sobs as he peels off her hands and re-arranges them. Dean loops an arm around her back so he can stroke her shuddering shoulders, uttering, “S’okay, kiddo, s’ all over… ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you…”

And of course, because Sam can never exist in peace, he watches the way ______ drops all her weight onto Dean and feels his chest squeeze. Suddenly, he’s very aware of what four years have changed between her and his brother.

The rush back to the car is silent, but for _____’s little sniffling breathes. After making it out of the blistering lights of the chattering airport and out into the peaceful snowy parking lot, things calm down.

Four separate times Sam thinks about reaching out to comfort her. The Gift always leaves her freezing cold, and early December in Indiana on top of that has her making audible little shivering sounds as they walk. Sam’s boiling under his coat. He unzips it, then zips it up again, unsure if she’d even want it. Dean gets her in the car and puts a warm blanket around her before Sam can get over his indecision.

They just saved two hundred people. In hindsight, that’s a massive win. Maybe if the demon hadn’t said what it’d said, and maybe if it hadn’t reduced her to this, Sam could celebrate. Seeing her so messed up always throws him. Less than an hour ago, she was the powerful psychic that used to have Dad clutching his telepathy-blocking charm under his shirt.

Sam scrubs his hand down his face, staring blankly at the trembling lump of blanket lying across the backseat. Now, she’s… whatever she saw in that demon.

Dean tucks her feet up onto the seat, then nudges the door closed with his hip. Sam stares past him, through him, at her silhouette in the Impala’s dark glass, because that’s somehow easier than looking at Dean.

The smattering of snow growing on the asphalt makes the whole world sound muffled. Sam feels like he’s talking to empty air when he croaks, “It knew about Jessica.”

“Sam,” Dean calls, softer this time. Asking for Sam to look at him. When he manages to heave his head up, Dean’s face is firm and reassuring. “These things—they read minds. They lie, just like Beth said. That’s all it was. Don’t let that thing get into your head, okay?”

Sam forces himself to nod. They both spare the shaking shape in the backseat one more look, then Dean’s rounding the car for the driver’s seat, and Sam’s sliding in next to him without another word.

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 5th, night.

Green. It had to be the ugliest color a motel room could be, Sam thought as he stared at the empty room. The walls were this sad limey green color that managed to look awful even in the dark, some parts made even limey-er by the huge neon green vacancy sign right outside their window. Their room was parked right next to it, so there was no escaping the sign even with the curtains pulled shut.

You and Dean, who were positioned right under the ugly green light, had somehow managed to fall asleep anyway. The only sound in the whole world was your soft breathing across the room and the crackle of the ancient TV.

Right now, it was playing a rerun of some televangelist in a big shiny white suit. He paced the screen on mute as Sam watched, curled on his side, laying diagonal to face the screen. Nightmares were so common for him now that the hardest part of the battle was getting to sleep in the first place. His strategy was to get so bored and so tired that his body would simply have nothing else to do but crash. Bored was the key word—Sam had tried reading, sudoku, and counting cars as they whisked by, but all of that occupied his mind too much to work. Tonight was another night where his mind was just too full to sleep.

He hoped Dean was right. He prayed that the demon had just been lying, lips pressed to the cross he kept under his shirt. Most days, Sam dropped into bed and sent off a brief prayer before the fight for sleep began. Tonight, though—tonight was one of those nights where he clasped his cross in both hands and poured his heart out. Sam prayed for his brother, his Dad, and for you, like usual, pleading for protection and strength. Sam prayed for Jessica, too.

(But never for her forgiveness—he knew he didn’t deserve that).

When Sam had first started getting comfortable with prayer, he’d always worried that he was being greedy or selfish by asking for so much. Health, food, lunch money, for Dad and Dean to get home okay. Now, it’s a natural comfort to him. To open yourself up to something higher than you, to give up your pride and ask for help—that is a mark of holiness. Goodness. Sam closes out his prayers and feels clean.

Across the room, Sam hears the covers in the opposite bed shift. He squints sleepy eyes at your silhouette, and even sluggish and drained, the shifting colors from the TV and the vacancy sign illuminate you like something not entirely from this world.

You pad over to his bedside. A soft, ice-cold hand shakes his arm. When you get up close and realize Sam’s awake, you scuttle back in surprise. “Uh.”

Sam shoves his face into his pillow. With his mind still on Jess, it’s hard for him to look at you right now. “What is it?”

It’s funny. From the moment you got off flight 424, you’d been glued to Dean’s side. Sam had kept his teeth pressed together through the entire thing, watching from a distance as you reached for Dean, spoke to Dean, took the food Dean gave you. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d figure you were avoiding him. Now you’ve decided you want something from him?

The second you touch his arm, every wisp of jealousy in Sam dries up. Not at all in the mood to be touched, he squirms out from under your hand and hoarsely repeats, “What?” You speak to him for the first time in hours. You sound rough and broken, and the edge of that awful sob from earlier today threatens to tip into your voice. “Can I…?”

Sam keeps his face planted in the pillow. At first he’s unsure what you’re even asking for—until you drop a hand on the mattress and he feels your weight tilt closer, wanting to… to lay with him. Like when you were little. When you share beds on the road, there’s often space left between you. That’s not what you’re asking for. If that’s what you wanted right now, you’d be in Dean’s bed.

The soft, choked little voice he can’t resist begs, “I just need to feel you.”

The last sliver of guilt and self-loathing that Sam has been holding onto instantly slips out of his grasp, hearing that. For the millionth time since this morning, he’s reminded of how awful he was to you. You’d been brought to the brink with your powers in a way they hadn’t seen in years, and Sam chose that precise moment to freak out. He wished he’d been better to you. Maybe he can’t pray for Jess’s forgiveness, but he can work to earn yours now.

Sam shuffles back on the mattress and opens the covers for you. “C’mere.”

As quiet as a mouse, you duck under his arm and slip under the covers. Sam immediately realizes that he should’ve fucking braced himself or something, because holy shit, you are so close. He accidentally gave you very little room in the already small bed. To keep from tumbling off the mattress and onto the questionable carpet, you reasonably and logically slot right up against him, your back against his chest and your heads on the same pillow. Holy shit, he did not think this through. Sam has very few gentlemanly places to lay his arm. And even if he found one, your icy cold hand picks up his warm one and—right, okay, you take it and wrap it right around your middle. That’s fine too. Cool. Awesome.

Okay. Forgetting every way he could sabotage this for himself for just a moment, Sam realizes that he missed this. God, he missed it so much. You wiggle back into his body and Sam gives you a big, indulgent squeeze around the tummy, earning this watery little sigh that makes his already racing heart zing out into orbit. Friendly snuggling became a lot less friendly when you were pushing seventeen instead of nine, so Sam hasn’t allowed himself to properly, um… cuddle you… in ages.

That isn’t even the best part. That little squeeze makes him realize just how pleasantly cold you are, a wonderful ice cube in blazing hot soup. Sam’s practically cooking under the covers—and that must be perfect for you and your chilly hands, because you make the same pitiful happy noise that Sam does as you get comfortable against each other.

Maybe if this were any other moment, after any other day, that would be something you might laugh about together. Instead, Sam’s prayers are filled with you and your incredible burden. He hesitates to go all in and hold you like he wants to… until your breath makes that tight, hitching sound again, and Sam’s sure you’re holding back tears. Screw it, Sam thinks. He’ll take care of you this time. Sam presses his face into your hair and entwines your hands on your belly, unsure of what to say and yet wanting to say so much. Dean can’t hold you like this—this is something you only want from Sam.

You both go still. Sam feels you hold your breath. His legs are itching to shift under the covers and your hand awkwardly holds his, the two of you afraid to disturb the magic.

Your thumb slowly caresses along the flat side of his hand. His heart leaps into his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to relax. You need this. Finally, it’s his turn to comfort you.

Sam swallows hard. There’s no way you can’t feel his heart thudding away, inches from popping clean out of his chest. Neither of you are stupid. If Dean were to wake up, you know exactly what this would look like to him—to the cleaning lady, to the strangers out on the street. But right now, in this frozen moment, there’s no one awake in the world but the two of you and the TV. It is so, so wrong. But when you touch him, Sam feels clean.

Bit by bit, you adjust to one another. Your breath syncs up. The whole time, your eyes never move from the TV, but if Sam focusses he swears something washes over him—that same great, sweeping, cleansing power from the plane, as light as moth wings on his skin. He has to bite back his smile. If you did that to anyone else, they’d find you creepy as hell.

After what feels like forever, you plainly croak, “It was lying about her. It was made of lies.”

That hits Sam like a slap to the face. That’s… yeah. That sounds right. He absorbs the impact as best he can, because although his faith was thin, Sam trusted Dean’s word and he trusts yours, too. There’s—so much that he feels about that, but he doesn’t want any more of his grief to overwhelm your Gift. Sam’s not naive. No matter how good of a person you are, no matter how considerate and understanding and empathetic you can be, Sam knows that talking about Jessica brings you some level of pain. It hurts him, too. And he has zero clue where that conversation would even begin, so he stores his shame and his loss and gives a shaky nod.

Instead, Sam asks, “...What did you see? When you looked into its head?”

Right. Cause’ that was such a better question to ask her, Sam.

You go silent. It’s a weighty, knowing silence, one that chokes the whole room. Sam readies himself for whatever you’re about to share with him. Admittedly, he’s curious. When the Gift was something new in your life, Sam used to pile on question after question about what the world felt like to you. ‘What does it feel like when Dean’s happy?’ A car motor turning on. ‘What does my happiness feel like?’ Dimples and a mystery being solved. ‘You’re joking.’ Not even a little. It fascinated Sam—how does a demon feel in comparison to a regular spirit?

“...It was just an evil spirit, Sammy,” you dismiss. “That’s all.”

Sam highly doubts that’s true. If it was just a spirit, then why did it screw with you so deeply? What had you seen in its head that had scared you? You, of all people, who was built for this? He knows there’s something more here, but after this week and all the ways you’ve fought to avoid being a burden, the fact that you’d crawl to Sam for comfort is a sign of surrender. You’ve given up. Clearly, you don’t want to talk about it. Sam isn’t going to push you. God knows he’s done that enough.

When Sam doesn’t push you, you shudder out a wet sigh and pick up his hand. At this point, Sam expects you in this state to do something weird—and sure enough, you do. You pick up Sam’s hand and you just stare at it. Just stare. Your thumb presses into the meat of his palm, almost like you’re looking for something. Feeling him. Sam’s heart gives another pathetic, noticeable throb. Feeling him and being close to him is, after everything, still a source of comfort for you. His cheeks burn.

Just to fill the silence, Sam whispers, “I’ve lost a lot of my calluses.”

Per usual, his little creep says nothing. You’re still feeling him. Your other hand comes up to investigate too, adding even more soft gentle touching to Sam’s already overloaded system. Your thumbs press into the center of his palm (reading it, maybe?), then over each bump, confirming for yourself that Sam’s real.

Maybe he’d be a bit more resilient if you were doing this to him in a crowded diner or a rowdy college party. Instead, Sam can feel the rise and fall of your breath through your thin shirt, and it’s the only sound in the dead world besides the buzzing static on the TV.

Your gaze turns to the TV. The fingers caressing his hand stop cold.

Sam says your name. He can feel your heart thud thud thudding deep in your chest, like rabbit’s feet hitting snow.

Again, absorbed completely in your own task, you don’t answer him. You roll over very suddenly under the covers. Sam hopes for a minute that being face to face with you will give him some answers, but the flash of your face he sees only serves to scare the shit out of him. You give him no time to process before you’re full-body hugging him, shoving a hand between his side and the mattress and fisting one in his shirt to bodily haul him against you. Sam sputters out a sharp noise and awkwardly slopes his hands down your back. The sudden intimacy gives him a whole world of shameful butterflies and freaks him out enough, but…

You looked terrified. The same bone-deep horror you had on your face after you saw the demon in person—when you trudged up to Sam with those haunting Proctor eyes, staring straight through him and right at his future. What had you seen in that demon?

Sam tries to speak, but you talk over him, just as haunted as you’d been on that plane.

“I love you. So much, Sam. You know that?”

It’s not a sweet, reminiscent kind of question. It is a genuine, unironic, please-tell-me-the-truth, You know that?

Sam’s brain stalls. “...Yeah. O-Of course.”

In case that wasn’t worrying enough, your hands needily grasp at his back, refusing to let Sam go as you duck your face into his shoulder. Sam can feel your entire body trembling from head to toe, can feel your hot breath on his neck choking back tears. “You’re a good person,” you tell him, insisting. “The best to me.”

“That’s—”

“I can feel it, okay?” You snap. One of your hands slips up his chest to smooth over Sam’s heart, and you squeeze him against you, promising, “Here. Right here.”

…Okay. Consider him officially freaked out. Sam manages an unconvinced, “...Thank you.”

You’re so wound up that you’re gritting your teeth, digging your nails into his shirt and clawing him as close as possible. This has to be an effect of what you saw. Which is strange, because that… whatever that was, did not feel like psychic possession or a psychic panic attack or any kind of psychic anything. It felt like you, trying to convince Sam that he’s a good person. It strikes a cold, dark chord somewhere deep within him that he doesn’t like. You’re just… you’re just reacting to what the demon showed you. You’re overwhelmed from stretching your Gift so thin. T-that’s. Yeah. Regardless, you’re scared. You need him. That, at least, is something he can work with.

“Shh,” Sam coos. He rubs a warm hand from the base of your scalp all the way down your back, then up, and back again, repeating the soothing motion until his arm goes numb. “You’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

You mumble something non-committal under your breath.

Sam hushes you, blindly reaching for comforting things to say. “S’ okay. You’re okay, baby. You can fall asleep on me.”

Maybe the demon showed you visions of Sam getting hurt. Something. That would explain this, maybe. He fixates on it, purely because it’s a problem in front of him that is much easier to think about than how scared he is for you, and worse, how much he loves this. Being your person. It’s a stupid, selfish thought to have in a moment like this, but—Sam wishes he could take care of you like this all the time.

As your frantic breathing smooths out into a clear, easy in-and-out, Sam wonders, wherever Jess is, what she would think if she saw this.

He closes his eyes and tries to steady his own breathing, the TV still crackling away on the dresser.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh.

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydennyy @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #pythia #sam winchester imagine #supernatural rewrite

[ragingadhd]

I was going to put this in the corps therapy blog, but yk what I think it deserves a whole post.

It kind of bugs me when people feminize Will. He's definitely a more feminine guy, don't get me wrong, but l'm so tired of people seeing a guy who isn't 100% masculine and immediately taking that as an in to feminize/infantilize him.

I love his feminine side. I love how he's so caring and loving, how he pays attention to details and is a great listener. I love that he loves music and animals and cooking and having fresh flowers in his cabin. I love his loyalty to his friends. I love how smart, quick witted and clever he is.

But I also love his masculine side. I love how willing and capable he is to fight, especially for those he loves. I love how much thought and care he puts in to keeping his body fit and muscular. I love how intimidating he can get if he chooses to, and how he allows himself to get angry from time to time.

That’s part of why I love TRR as much as I do, especially when it comes to Will’s character. I read that series and I see a man who is more comfortable and balanced in his masculinity than ever before.

Of course, that’s all in the view of a fairly traditional idea of femininity and masculinity. Really, those are made-up labels for very abstract ideas. I firmly believe all of the “feminine” traits I listed are very masculine in their own right, and vice versa, but I digress.

I’m certainly not going to be over here trying to police how people enjoy the series, nor am I trying to say it’s wrong to view Will in a feminine way. If you enjoy the series that way, who am I stop you. My point in making this post is simply to vent a bit and maybe start a discussion. In my personal life, I am so tired of people dismissing or even denying my masculinity because I am a more feminine man, so I’m a little more inclined to be upset about my favorite character receiving a similar treatment.

I don’t see much of this issue regarding Will in the main series. I’ll see someone basically “uwu soft boi” him on rare occasion, but that’s the extent of it. I mostly see this happening with his character in The Royal Ranger. So many people hate who he’s become or even refuse to acknowledge the series. Again, I’m not trying to police how anyone enjoys the whole RA franchise. It’s a fictional book series at the end of the day, not that big of a deal. And of course there are a million different reasons why someone might not like TRR, and I’m not going to be over here accusing everyone for not liking it because Will is more (in my opinion) masculine.

Anyway I’m gonna close my ramble off now. Don’t take any of it too seriously, it’s just been floating around my head for a minute.

#rangers apprentice #will treaty #the royal ranger #trr will #trr will treaty #ranger's apprentice

[pinkslashersimp]

Hi I have a request for NBC Hannibal and Will Graham/ Hannigram x reader! Can you do some headcanons for each of them walking in on a reader in the middle of a breakdown and doing SH? Sorry if that’s a bit much you def don’t need to detail the SH but would love to see what they do to stop the reader and comfort them (I’ve been going through it lately oof lol)

I love lovee all your drabbles and stuff sm if u choose to write this TYSM in advance ahh<33

╰┈➤ Synopsis: Hannibal and Will both comfort you after a ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ breakdown

⠀⠀⠀✎ Notes: Hey anon, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ get to this, as mentioned before on here I’ve just ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ finished my college course and at the time these reqs ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ were sent I was completing assignments and doing ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ my exam^^ I wanted to get as many reqs in my inbox ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ as I could before I closed it and I’m finally getting to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ them all. thank you so much for your patience (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ) ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 🩷

⠀⠀⠀ I don’t feel particularly comfortable writing your ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ specific request simply because it could be ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ potentially triggering to others, so I’ve written ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Hannigram comforting you after you’ve gone through ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ it and are struggling, I hope that is okay<3

⠀⠀⠀ I also want to check that you’re okay and everyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ who feels this way is doing okay? I understand this ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ was back in February but as someone who has dealt ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ with SH myself I understand that urges don’t always ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ magically vanish by a wish on a star. If you or anyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ else reading this needs professional or immediate ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ help it is there and available to you.

TWS: Mentions of SH and breakdowns.

988 Lifeline

The Samaritans

Find a Helpline

Signs of self harm and getting help

National eating disorders help

Hannibal and Will had both comforted you the best they could after your breakdown. Hannibal had taken care of your wounds and made you some food and a drink, Will sat beside you, twiddling his fingers unsure of how to approach the situation.

Hannibal seated himself on the other side of you, and put his hand on top of yours, will figured he should do the same and he put his arm around you and held you close, they both let you cry it out and encouraged you to eat something, just to get energy back and ensure you were at least taken care of.

Hannibal approaches the situation from a psychiatric point of view. You were sad. No, more than sad, and he had to discover the root of it to ensure the problem was taken care of and to ensure your safety.

He arranges for little sessions in his therapy office, encouraging you to discuss your troubles, mood, and harm. With each session you both get a little closer to understanding a solution, and Hannibal gives you different ways to vent your feelings without causing yourself or others harm.

If need be, he will look into a prescription for you.

Hannibal is also in charge of first aid, bandaging and disinfecting any injuries you have. Stitching too if needs be.

Hannibal will get upset at this, his level of stress varies on how bad it is getting. He doesn’t ever show this as he wishes to avoid upsetting you and causing further breakdowns and self inflicted harm, but you will notice him being much quieter and more stern with you.

Will approaches from a much more nurturing perspective, keeping a watchful eye over you every second he can, doing his best to cook for you and run little errands to make you feel better.

If he notices you looking particularly upset, he removes anything you could potentially hurt yourself with from the room and brings some tissues, he also sits with you and tries to cheer the mood up, either with a joke or by trying to steer the conversation to something you enjoy.

If Will is struggling he will call in Hannibal to help, as he knows Hannibal can read others and manipulate situations far better than he can.

Will gets upset too, but he shows it by telling you that he is hurt. He understands you are hurting too, and approaches the conversation as empathetic as he can, but he wants you to understand that this affects them, too, even if you are the one hurting the most.

He just wants you to know that they are not, and will never be, angry at you.

Anything you could use in the house against yourself has been locked up somewhere you can’t reach, and you are forbidden into the kitchen until they trust you are feeling better and okay.

Hannibal arranges for himself, you, and Will to enjoy trips out together, in hopes it will lift your spirits and take your mind off of anything that is causing unnecessary stress or harmful thoughts.

Hannibal takes you to the theatre, to fancy restaurants, and to garden and art exhibits.

Will on the other hand will take you to the beach, forests, or cheaper restaurants.

You all go on these trips together and, occasionally, they will let you pick the location, allowing you some control.

#hannigram x reader #hannigram headcanons #hannigram #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal headcanons #hannibal headcanons #nbc will graham #will graham #will graham x reader

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Jealous

A/N- Got high. Wrote a fic. Here you go. I also want to try and make this a two parter to give myself some more practice with smut, but the second part probably won’t be out for a while 😅

You can read part 2 here 🖤

Summary- Eddie complains about a girl at school who absolutely will not stop bothering him. It was cute at first, but as it’s gone on it’s just gotten more and more creepy and annoying rather than a little schoolgirl crush. She decides to stop at the trailer for a ‘surprise visit’ while you’re over hanging out and decide to help Eddie by getting rid of her. And it makes him want you so much more.

Genre- Fluff, eventual smut

Warnings- Stalker-ish actions from a side character

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @hellfirewh0re @paola-carter @whiplaaaaaaaaash @ladyapplejackdnd @thatlonelypieceoftoast @efvyqrs @tayhar811 @wistfulwisteriawitch (if you’d like to be added please let me know 🖤)

Words- 2.0k

“Ugh! She just doesn’t stop!” Eddie groaned as he leaned his head back over the couch, his hands covering his eyes in frustration.

“I mean don’t get me wrong i kind of liked it at first, and it’s not like she’s not attractive or anything, but she’s just so. Fucking. Annoying.”

You giggled as you sat back on the other side of the living room sofa, the movie you two planned on watching was playing on in the background as Eddie moved the conversation to telling you about his newest problem.

Her name was Kimberly.

“Why don’t you just tell her to leave you alone?”

“I’ve tried! She just keeps coming back, i think she just assumes i’m playing hard to get or something but i don’t understand how she can’t just get the hint.”

It was funny to see how frustrated she made him, and he looked pretty cute when he was this angry, but you could tell how fed up he was with this girl continuing to try and weasel her way into his life.

You’d noticed little things here and there around school, and you had to admit you found her pretty annoying too.

She’d walk right up to your table during lunch, interrupting whatever conversation you and the boys were having to push you to the side and sit herself next to Eddie and ramble on about whatever nonsense she came up with for that day. Of course all while ignoring the dirty looks she got from you and the other Hellfire boys.

She’d try and stay after on Fridays just in case there was a chance that she could sit in on Hellfire, no matter how many times you’d hear her say how the game was ‘stupid’ or ‘childish’ around her friends, but it would be a whole different story if she got to be near Eddie.

Typically you and the guys would make fun of Eddie for having his own little ‘groupie’ follow him around like a lost puppy, but hearing him vent to you about her was something completely different. He didn’t think it was funny or cute when she would interrupt his conversations or try and get in the way of you or the other guys, or when she started walking around with him to his classes during the passing periods, or even when she decided it would be a great idea to act like the two of them had some kind of relationship so any time he talked to you or any other girls she would step right in the way and be all over him. It was creepy, it was weird, and definitely crossed the line when she decided to start showing up at the trailer unannounced.

“Fuck, it’s gotten that bad?”

The whole scenario made you feel bad for him. If it was a guy doing things like that to a girl they’d be called out immediately but of course when it’s the other way around people think it’s just a funny joke.

“Yep.” Eddie sighed and shook his head, “I had to start telling Wayne to answer the door and tell her i’m not home just so she’ll go away but she still comes back! I honestly don’t know what to do (y/n)…”

You could see how her actions were affecting him, and it hurt to see that this girl just couldn’t take the hint and leave your best friend alone after hearing countless times that he doesn’t want anything to do with her. And then you started thinking back on all the times Eddie helped you when guys were giving you the same creepy ‘affection’. He’d see some guy talking you up and making you uncomfortable and he’d immediately rush over with his arm around you, pretending he was your boyfriend and threaten them off if they kept their act up. It was finally time for you to repay that favor.

“You think she’ll show up today?”

“Probably! It’s like clockwork, she’ll show up every other day in the afternoon and just knock and call for me for like 15 minutes! I usually just ignore her.”

“Why don’t you let me take care of it if she shows up.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Both of your attention was turned to the front door of the trailer, hearing a few rapid knocks on the door before a high pitched voice called out,

“Eddie!”

He groaned but tried to stay quiet to not alert her of his presence,

“Speak of the fucking devil.”

“Eddie, open up!” Her squeals we’re like nails on chalkboard, “Your van is out front so i know you’re home!”

“Don’t worry, i’ll take care of her, give me your shirt.”

Eddie looked at you a bit shocked,

“What?”

“Your shirt! Give me your shirt and go wait in your room.”

He rolled his eyes but he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to you before quickly making his way into his bedroom.

You pulled your own shirt off and replaced it with his, quickly undoing your bra and tossing it onto the couch. You shed your jeans and tossed all your clothes behind the couch so she couldn’t spot them before smudging your makeup and messing up your hair, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself to open the door to the she-beast named Kimberly.

As you opened the door, her quick knocks ceased and her eyes went wide.

“Can i help you?” You asked her, your eyes darting up and down at her.

“Who are you?” She looked at you up and down as you did to her, dodging your question completely.

“I’m (y/n), i’m Eddie’s…” You paused for a moment, “friend. You are?”

“Kimberly. Where is he?” She stood on her tip goes to try and see over your head into the trailer, and you moved your body to lean against the door frame.

“He’s…” You turned to look down the hall into Eddie’s room, seeing him poke his head out to see if you’d gotten her to leave yet, “a little preoccupied at the moment.” You leaned in a bit closer to her and whispered, “He was feeling a little tired…”

You crossed your arms over your chest and she fully took in your outfit. Panties, Eddie’s shirt, and she could tell you weren’t wearing a bra from the gentle outline of your nipples through the shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest to try and seem a bit more intimidating to you but it didn’t phase you. You knew that deep down she was angry, jealous even of seeing you in such a state, knowing what could’ve possibly been happening moments before you answered the door.

“Can i at least come in and talk to him?”

“I don’t think so, he usually doesn’t like to be bothered right now.”

“How would you know that?” Her tone became angrier and snottier to you, knowing your plan was working perfectly.

“Well, usually he’ll ask me to come over and help him with a little problem he has every now and then.” You giggled to yourself, “Or i guess you could call it a big problem.”

She was growing more and more jealous by the second, having to hear you talk about how easy it was for you to get what she’s been wanting from Eddie for so long.

She huffed and you looked back down the hall, seeing Eddie smiling has his head poked out his doorway. He was hearing your whole conversation and he could tell that it was finally getting through to this girl that he wanted nothing to do with her. And though he loved hearing you finally tell this girl off, he loved watching you do it too.

Seeing you standing there in his oversized shirt and panties, and his eyes widened once he noticed your bra hidden behind the couch. The thought of your bare chest being covered up by his shirt was enough to make him need to adjust himself in his jeans.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like this before, i mean everyone thinks about fucking their best friend every now and then right? There’s nothing wrong with it. At least to him there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting it.

He could hear how impatient Kimberly was getting at the door, and he was hoping you were able to finally get her off his case once and for all.

“Well i don’t think he’d mind if i just came in to say hi-“ Kimberly said as she tried to shove her way past you to try and get inside the trailer, but you put your arm up to block her from getting any closer.

“I think he would mind, actually.”

She gave you the dirtiest look she could muster and Eddie figured now would be the perfect time to step in and get her to finally leave the two of you alone.

“(y/n)!” He called out from his bedroom, making you and Kimberly turn your attention to down the hall, “Who’s at the door?”

“No one!” You called back to him, a sly smile on your face directed right at Kimberly.

“Well then hurry up and come back to bed!”

You bit your lip and giggled, trying your best not to burst out laughing. Kimberly stood there and she let out a hurt gasp, almost like Eddie had betrayed whatever trust she thought she had earned from him.

“Sorry, i guess i’m needed elsewhere.” You turned your attention back to Kimberly, “Nice meeting you though!”

You quickly shut the door and watched through the window as she finally left in a huff. Your lips curled into a smile and you could feel a gentle warmth behind you, a gentle tickle on your neck,

“Is she gone?” Eddie said from close behind you, his chest pressed up against your back, and though you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not you could feel the slight bulge in his jeans pressed up against your ass.

“Yep. Hopefully for good now.”

You let out a surprised squeal as Eddie picked you up into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him and gently shaking you around as he hugged you, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Finally! Ugh, fuck i could kiss you right now (y/n).”

“Hey! Just cause i’m wearing your shirt doesn’t mean you get to kiss me, i like to be treated like a lady first, and you should have the decency to act like a gentleman.”

“Yeah i guess you’re right,” He finally set you down into his lap as he sat back down onto the couch, “i suppose i owe you that much. Friday?”

You smiled and furrowed your eyebrows at him,

“Are you asking me out?”

“Sure am. Come on, it’ll be fun, i’ll cancel Hellfire and you and me can do something. Just us.” He smiled at you as he saw your blushing cheeks.

You wrapped your arms around his neck,

“Yeah, why not,” You placed your hand onto his cheek and brought him closer to kiss the other side of his face, “i’d like to see how much of a gentleman you can be.” You said, pinching his cheek.

You laughed with one another before quickly realizing the position you were in.

Eddie was still shirtless, you still had no pants on, your arms were wrapped around his neck and his were around your waist. Needless to say, it was the closest the two of you had ever been before, but it was nice to be this close. He was warm, comforting even, and though his arms were only at your waist he kept you so close to him like you were going to fall.

“Hey, um…” He paused for a moment, and you thought you could see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks, “Can we stay like this for a little bit? It’s nice…” His thumb moved back and forth on your hip and you smiled up at him, quickly placing another kiss onto his cheek.

“Yeah… I’d like that. On one condition though,” You loosened your grip around his neck and pulled one of the blankets across the end of the couch over the two of you to keep yourselves warm, “i get to pick the next movie.”

He smiled and pulled you in close to him, placing a kiss to your temple,

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

_______________________________________________

If you’d like to see more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist 🥰

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

[milfsloverblog]

when is part 4 of secret benefit coming out ?

VENTING, feel free to scroll.

Talk of mental health.

Hello, anon.

Short answer: I don’t know.

Long answer: Writing (and creating in general) has always been a way for me to escape my reality since I was a little girl. I’ve been going through a rough patch for a few months now and getting back into writing fics somehow helped me keep my head out of the water for a while.

Only lately, writing has somehow turned into another source of anxiety. I’ll be posting a 3k words chapter and immediately get comments saying “Next part pls”, and it’s honestly disheartening. I love writing, I adore it, but not in those conditions. And I can somehow understand it, because in the last few years we’ve been taught how to consume and consume and consume again, but don’t do this here. Don’t do this to the authors and stories you love. Savour what you are being given, read a chapter twice or thrice, pay attention to the small details that the author included and that you might not have noticed during your first read because you were consuming and not savouring. I do not want to feel anxious and feel pressured about writing, and yet I do, and I’ve got enough on my plate as it is to add this on top of it.

I don’t like sharing too much online, but I think it’s needed sometimes. My mental health has been rapidly declining, I’m trying my best to pull myself out of this dark place but I’m struggling, I really am. So, I don’t know when the next chapter will come out. Whenever I’ll have enough willpower to get out of bed and feed myself so that my brain can form a coherent thought, whenever I’ll stop falling asleep in class because I’m exhausted. But I don’t know when that will be. Please, please give me some time. I am not a machine, I’m just a girl who’s trying to keep her head out of the water by doing something she likes. Don’t be greedy, give me time, please.

#secret benefits #authors are humans with feelings too

[raineandsky]

this is the secret santa gift for @laffy-taffy-creations!

their prompt: "Hero that is a living weapon and past experiment, they run into Supervillain who taunts them calling them by their experiment name and Hero fighting to stay in control of their emotions so they don't accidentally cause any sort of diaster. Bonus points if there's someone (you pick) hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping, that part is optional though."

this was super fun, hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing!!

-

The hero’s hands had shook when the superhero announced their next assignment. When he’d placed a slim file in their hands, like they didn’t know the exact ins and outs of the place he was sending them to. There was a map on the front page that they didn't need.

The hero’s hands had shook as they meticulously unscrewed the little vent to shuffle their way inside. They’d been violated by the familiar stench of burning skin and cleaning chemicals, the sound of clanking metal and far-off, shrieking voices grating in their ears. Primal instinct had momentarily elbowed in front of duty, and they’d been halfway to abandoning the mission before remembering why they were here.

Let’s eradicate them. A small handwritten note left in the back of the hero’s file, as much of a kindness as an explicit push towards the superhero’s true goal. I think it’s what you deserve as much as they do.

The hero’s hands are shaking now, buried in the supervillain’s desk, as the office door clunks unlocked.

No one else but the supervillain could come in here really—the hero knows this—but their heart still sinks to see that it isn’t anyone else.

The supervillain pauses on the threshold, clearly reining in any blatant surprise before he speaks. He was always good at that—the only emotions he ever let them see was the disappointment of what they’d done wrong, or nothing at all.

“Q-5,” he says after a long moment, and the hero’s hands scrunch on paper at the name. “It is a delight to see you return to us.”

“That’s not my name,” the hero spits. Their voice trembles traitorously. “It’s [Hero] now.”

“Don’t be absurd.” The supervillain hums a laugh as he carefully closes the door behind him, like this is nothing more than a business meeting. “You are Q-5. No one gets to name you but me. You know this well, I’m sure.”

The hero does know this well. Any attempt of individuality here was met with an iron fist, quite literally. The relief of getting a name—a real, actual name—had been one of the biggest victories in their escape from this hell.

Hearing that so-called name again, that jumble of characters that mean nothing, that make them nothing, it’s– it’s—

The hero sucks down a long breath as the ceiling sprinkles dust over the room. Something deep in the building groans as if the hero’s tidal wave of emotion is boring it.

The supervillain’s gaze tilts to the shuddering pipes along the walls. Unbothered, vaguely amused.

“Q-5.” The supervillain’s voice is deceptively soft. It’s the tone of someone the hero’s about to want to be very far away from. They feel like a child again, an experiment slightly off canter, caught with their hand in the biscuit tin reserved for the scientists. “I see the power I gave you is strengthening.”

The supervillain takes a step closer and the hero takes one back without thinking. Their wrists bash painfully against the drawer in their haste.

Power. That’s all it is with the supervillain. Power, strength, violence. How can we make you better when you were such a mistake? How can I make you into who I intended? You came out wrong, but I can’t let another failure go to waste. How do I give you true power? Power. Power power power power power power—

A crack snaps its way into the floor underneath the supervillain. The hero heaves another unwilling breath. Control is difficult when their destruction is ruled by the lawless waves of emotion.

“I came here,” the hero says slowly, “to stop you.”

They grit their teeth, as if that will quell the quaking tightness in their chest. It doesn’t, not really, but at least the building stops shaking. The supervillain admires the gash underfoot like it’s a piece of art and not a consequence of what he created.

“I would love to see you try.” The supervillain smiles, the expression calculated. “Take whatever you’ve found. I’m sure it’ll be useful for your little mission.”

The hero falters, their gaze drawn to their hands. They didn’t realise that they’d held onto some of the papers in their rush to put space between them. The supervillain steps to the side to give the hero a straight escape to the door.

He’s letting them leave. It’s a trick. It’s a test. Will you try to get away from something that will never leave you no matter how far you run? Or will you accept that you belong here, as nothing more than a half-failed experiment and a muddle of uncontrollable feelings?

The hero takes a step towards the door. The supervillain doesn’t move. They take another. Another. Another.

The supervillain practically smirks when the hero gets to the door, like this is exactly what he planned. “Don’t think your departure now means you’re escaping, Q-5,” he says lightly. “I know you’ll be back. You cannot truly run from this place. From me.”

The building rumbles underfoot. Shouts rise distantly. The hero forces themself to stare him in the face as they forcibly stamp their flare of hatred down. Then they swing the door open to make their escape.

Someone stumbles into the office as the door she was leaning against abandons her. She quickly rights herself with an awkward clearing of her throat. 

“I was trying to find the source of the disturbances,” she explains hurriedly. “It seemed the worst of the earthquake was coming from here.”

The hero recognises her. A villain. Bright, eager, forever in the supervillain’s shadow. She probably thinks she’s safely detached from the supervillain’s insane experiments. The hero thought that too, once. It was only when he ran out of test subjects that he turned his interest to them.

The hero pushes past her before they can see any more of their lost self in her. The building rumbles in agreement as they mindlessly break for the exit. 

-

“This will be vitally useful, [Hero],” the superhero says with a smile when they lay the crumpled papers on his desk, “you’ve brought us a step closer to ending [Supervillain]’s reign. Thank you.”

The hero is just glad it’s over. 

But when the superhero approaches a week later, a file in his hand and a grim look on his face, the hero finds the floors shaking with revulsion under their feet.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #secret santa #laffy-taffy-creations #hope this is to your standard!! loved your ideaaaaaa #and merry crimmas to yall if you celebrate #i havent done a big secret santa event before this was super exciting #and you will see me doing it next year

[silentmajesticfox]

Bellyache

Chapter I: coming home

A/N: its been so long since ive wrote something, and in my drunk brain i felt i could start a series. if its ass, please let me know. i will always take the criticism and also- i just needed to push myself and think maybe its worth it., Gojo is always worth it. i hope whoever reads this enjoys, and t6hank you. <3

Y/N was finally back in Tokyo, coming all the way from Europe, as she had went on a vacation in a sense, it was mainly to learn more techniques around the world and to clear her mind, finally doing some things she dreamed of, she never thought this day would come where she would allow herself to be back here. A lot of people were crowded, conversations buzzing, and car horns going off in the sunset as she crossed the street to go to the bar and food place she had liked going with Shoko for years. She was quite nervous to see her best-friend, though they had kept in close contact.

 It has been about a year since Suguru Geto died, and a little less than a year since she saw that white haired, he-who-shall-not-be-named, asshole. It was like loosing a best friend, and a lover all in one consecutive week.. y/n and Satoru had had an on and off relationship for the past 11 years, from puppy love all the way to a more serious relationship at certain points, even marriage and children had been considered. But what honestly made her leave, was there last interaction and most recent break-up..

*flashback, one year ago*

                Satoru and y/n were sitting on the stairs outside of the school, they had been sitting in silence for about ten minutes, staring off into the trees and the sky, and avoiding looking at eachother. She clears her throat, knowing it is out of character for Satoru not to say anything for even five minutes, his whole demeanor had changed and he was deep in thought, she felt like she wasn’t even there.

His blue eyes dart over to her, he didn’t need the six eyes to see she was struggling and having internal conflict with herself. However, with everything that had transpired, he really didn’t care anymore, having lost the only best friend he ever had, it was like a chunk of his life essence was stripped from him all over again. “Hm…?” Was all he could muster up, still staring at her. Y/n kind of looked shocked as her eyes met his beautiful blue ones, she mustered up a fake smile that lightly graced her lips, before pondering what to say to him.

“You know... you can talk to me, right?... I know he was your best friend, but it’s been years, Toru’… He chose that path…” Y/n treated lightly, not even doing small talk and just getting what was in her mind off. He scoffed in response, his white brows crinkling as he shook his head, looking away as he felt anger bottling up and threatening to explode any second. “Stop acting like you know everything, y/n. It doesn’t concern you, especially because you weren’t close to him like I was... So, stop prying and acting like you care, because I know you fucking don’t.” The venomous words leaving his mouth, he knew it wasn’t her fault, but he was just so angry. At Suguru, at himself.

Y/n was taken aback, she stared at him, something about the way she was watching him slowly loose himself all over again would make her tear up on spot. She had to stand her ground at least, knowing how stubborn he could be. “I’m not saying that, Satoru… I’m just saying I don’t want a repeat of what happened years ago.. and that you have me to talk to or vent to, its okay to be upset.. You don’t have to take it out on me-“ With that his eyes roll, pushing up his glasses and almost instantly coming back at her. “Repeat what happened years ago? Like it was a chore for you? Are you serious? Like it was you going through that? How about you just leave me alone, you’re honestly just making it worse and I’m done entertaining this conversation..” His words were dark.

“If that’s how you fucking feel, Gojo. I’m not going to sit here and be a verbal punching bag you you while I’m trying to fucking help-. You know I didn’t mean it like that, so get your head out of your ass.” She spit back, adjusting herself and standing up and crossing her arms, a stern look with watery eyes threatened to spill. Much to his dismay, he kept going, saying the words that would end them forever. “You honestly have ruined my life in every way possible, I wish it was you instead of Suguru that left back then, I wish it was you who I had to kill and not him… So do me a favor and fucking leave for good.” And that was final. Tears started streaming as she reached out to smack him, much to her dismay due to his limitless being active almost 24/7. His ocean orbs stared up at her, almost in shock, as she spoke one last time to him. “Fine, wish you would have told me sooner, so I didn’t waste years on you… Have fun with your dead best friend, Gojo. Never speak to me again.” And with that, her heels turned as she stormed off to her dorm. He sat there in silence, even the birds stopped chirping. He then realized that was the worst decision of his life.

*end flashback*

Y/n opened the door to the bar, and the bell jingled. Her weary eyes searched around, until they finally met Brown ones she was desperately searching for. Excitement and Nervousness spread through her, emitting something like a squeal as she practically ran to her best friend, who was standing up from her seat, before crashing into her and almost making both of them fall. “Y/n calm down… We’re too old for this shit..” Shoko said as y/n hugged her so tight, she could barely choke out those words. After almost a full minute, y/n let go giggling to herself and sitting down. “I really can’t help myself, I mean look at you, you’re hair is so long, Shoko!!” Shoko smiled before flipping her hair, a waiter on his way looking at y/n before greeting her. “Long time so see, Y/n!!! Glad to have you back, do you want the usual for both of you?” He asked and she nodded excitingly. “Can you actually make that a double shot for me?” He nods before walking off and Shoko eying y/n.

“A double? y/n its barely 6?” She judged, before they both started laughing. “Never leave me for that long again or I swear I will kill you myself.” Shoko stated, lighting a cigarette and handing one to y/n and lighting both of theres with her lighter.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[hugsandchaos]

You can probably tell by the oneshot once you read, but this is canon divergent. It’s not really an AU, more of a prompt. I hope it isn’t sloppy or rushed.

V sat on the wooden floor and gently rubbed her hand on Cyn’s back to try to comfort her. She suddenly started looking upset a while ago and none of her friends couldn’t quite figure out why.“Can you please tell us what’s wrong?” V asked. Cyn wiped a few stray tears from her screen and glanced up at her.“I want. N.” She replied.

V raised an eyebrow in confusion and J and Tessa glanced at each other. They all collectively knew a lot of the worker drones in the mansion, and they’ve never heard of someone named N. Then again, he might be new.“I. Miss. N. I. Want. To play. With. Him.” Cyn continued as more tears began forming. V was quick to wipe the tears away and wrapped an arm around her.”Don’t cry, sweetie. How about J and Tessa look for your friend?” She asked.

“Sniffle. Yes. Please. N is. Scared. Of. Humans, but. I. Told. Him. Tessa is. Nice.” Cyn replied. J was already walking over to the door and opened it for Tessa, who soon nodded and followed her.”Thank you, J.” She said. Before leaving, Tessa turned around and smiled at Cyn.”Don’t worry, we’ll find him!” She said confidently. J nodded in agreement and closed the door.

V smiled softly.”See? You’ll be able to play with N soon.” She said. A small smile began to appear on Cyn’s face.

“Smile. Thank. You.” She said. V wrapped her arms around her in a hug and felt Cyn lean on her for support while she hugged back.”Of course, Cyn. Now how about I go get you some tea? Would you like that?” She asked. Cyn nodded.”Small. Nod.” V stood up and affectionately patted her on the shoulder.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She said. She couldn’t carry Cyn the whole way since she’d need both hands for it, so V would have to be quicker than usual. She walked towards the door and grabbed the handle. She briefly turned around and smiled at Cyn.”Be careful while I’m gone, sweetie.” She said before opening the door and leaving.

A few minutes after she left, Cyn felt more digital tears forming on her screen. She really missed N. She knew N usually slept during the day, but it’s been storming all day and he sometimes naps at night to talk with her during the day, so surely she would see him soon. Cyn just wanted him to read to her or play with her like he did in the cellar or the restricted section of the library.”Sniffle. Sniffle.” She said, wiping the tears away.

“Hey, little buddy. I’m here.” A voice said.

Cyn turned around and realized that the vent near the floor was open. A drone was in the process of crawling out of it. He wore a coat that had faux fur around the collar and a hat, both of which were black, and had five semispheres on his head like a headband. They were glowing the same yellow color as his eyes and the liquid held in the canister attached to his tail, which he used to put the vent cover back. Standing at his full height, he was a bit taller than the average worker drone.

“N! N! Grabby hands!” Cyn said, reaching up for him and doing the grabbing gesture with her hands. Her head tilted to the side and she had to stop to use one of her hands to push her head back. The odd drone obliged to her obvious request and silently walked over to her, avoiding the toys on the floor. Once he was close enough, he picked her up and held her so she could easily wrap her arms around him.“Hug. I missed. You, N.” She said. Her head began to tilt again, but N moved one of his arms so he could catch and hold her.“I missed you too, Cyn.” He said.

After a minute or so of the both of them simply enjoying the hug, Cyn spoke up.“Can. We. Play, N?” She asked. N sat down and put her down in front of him.“Of course.” He replied.

V opened the door to Tessa’s bedroom and nearly dropped the rainbow sippy cup of warm (but not too hot) tea at the sight of a stranger sitting in front of Cyn. He was staring back at V, and it kind of felt as if he was expecting her. Cyn was laying on her belly and fiddling with something. It looked like a yellow ribbon and a canister with a hooked stinger attached to it. The stranger smiled and waved at her.”Hello.” He greeted. Cyn looked up from what she was doing and over to the doorway.

Upon seeing V, Cyn’s smile grew a bit, but she didn’t get up.”V! Come. Meet N. He is. My. Friend.” She said. V shook her head to get rid of the surprised feeling and entered the room, closing the door behind her. She walked over to Cyn to see what she was doing and sat down next to her on the opposite side of her.

The canister on the floor wasn’t just attached to a stinger, but also a long, thin string or wire, and Cyn was tying a yellow bow right at the base where the string attached to the canister. Following the string with her gaze, V realized pretty quickly that it was actually N’s tail when she saw it trail behind him. Speaking of N, he held out a hand for her to shake.”You probably already know, but I’m N! You’re V, right?” He asked.

“Yep, that’s me.” V replied. She accepted the hand shake and smiled. Before either of them could say much else, Cyn pushed herself up into a sitting position and poked N’s shoulder to get his attention.“It’s. Done.” She said, pointing at her finished work. N slowly lifted his tail and looked at the bow, which was tied in the same way as the black one in her own hair. His expression softened seeing the accessory.”It’s very pretty! Thank you, little buddy.” He said.

Cyn opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped before anything left her mouth when she began to topple. Whenever Cyn regressed, her balance skill was basically that of a human toddler learning to walk. N immediately reached his arms out to catch her incase she fell forward onto her face, but she just fell backwards on her behind and against V’s arm. She didn’t seem to care about it and smiled.”Smile. Giggle. Giggle.” She said. N calmed down from his brief panic knowing that she was alright.

V felt a small smile on her face. She may not know this drone having just met him, but it was nice that he cared about Cyn.”Oh! I almost forgot.” V piped up. She showed her little friend the rainbow sippy cup.“Here, it’s your favorite blend.” She said. Cyn used both hands to take it and hold it carefully, still smiling like she’s been the whole time.”Thank. You, V.” She said. She brought it up to her mouth.”Light sip.” She said before taking, as she said, a light sip.

After she had her sip, N spoke up.“Well, now that one of your other friends are here, should I leave?” He asked as he stood up. Cyn’s eyes widened hearing that suggestion and she put the sippy cup down.“Wait. No. Please stay. I. Want. You. To. Meet Tessa. And. J.” Cyn said. She glanced up at him with one of the most heartbreaking looks V has ever seen. Just looking at her, V wanted to hug and protect her from anything and everything.“Don’t give me that look.” N said, sounding like he’s also been defeated by her pleading expression already.

“Please?” Cyn asked. N looked like he was about to try to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and sat back down.”Oh, alright. I’ll meet your other friends.” He caved in.

“Hooray!” Cyn cheered. V couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the silly little interaction that just played out. She didn’t notice, but N’s expression changed to a pretty surprised one and his tail wagged ever so slightly until she stopped.“What should we play now?” V asked.

When Tessa and J came back, N became on edge for a while, but that quickly went away after introductions. He didn’t want Tessa touching him, though. Other than that, he was pretty friendly. He continued reading the children’s book for Cyn, who was laying on her belly and had both hands on his leg to push herself up and look at the pictures. V was also listening, and pretty soon, J and Tessa were also sitting by them to listen.

After he was done, he stood up to get another book.“Yawn.” Cyn said, opening her mouth wide and stretching her arms and legs. N put the book back on the nightstand he found it on and looked back at his little friend. Tessa said what they all thought it that moment.“I think it’s nap time.” She said. She stood up and scooped her arms beneath Cyn to pick her up.“No. I. Am. Not tired.” Cyn argued. Tessa brought her to a big bean bag chair sitting in the corner of her room and smiled.

“Will you sleep if I play the music box?” N asked. Cyn blinked and thought about it for an only a second before nodding while everyone else in the room glanced at each other confused.“Sheepish. Nod.” She replied. N walked over to Cyn as she was set down on the bean bag chair and opened his mouth wide, revealing the sharp fangs he apparently had. Oddly enough, all that came out of his mouth was the sound of a music box beginning to play. His screen changed and said “RISES THE MOON — MUSIC BOX VERS,” which was a pretty good title for a lullaby.

J brought over a pillow and blanket for her little friend. She carefully lifted her head and placed the pillow underneath, then set her head back down. N moved a bit so J could lay the blanket over Cyn and even pulled the corner a bit so it would cover her arms, just incase they got cold. Cyn nuzzled the snake plushie on the bean bag chair and mumbled the word “nuzzle” before closing her eyes and listening to the music N was somehow playing. J, V, and Tessa quickly decided to also listen to the gentle tune.

The little drone fell asleep halfway through the song, but N finished it nonetheless. His screen went back to normal and smiled at Cyn.”Sweet dreams, little buddy.” He whispered. He glanced over at the others and walked past them towards the vent, surprisingly not making a sound.“It was nice meeting you, but I should probably leave.” He whispered.

N walked over to the vent near the floor and crouched down to take it off, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t expected it, so he flinched away and turned around to see V looking a bit apologetic.”Oh, sorry! Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer? We’d like to get to know you.” She asked quietly. N thought about it for a minute before nodding.”Sure. I don’t see the harm in it.” He whispered back.

V smiled and Tessa made tiny, quiet claps of excitement that sounded like barely audible taps. J only smiled a little bit. She didn’t exactly trust this stranger a lot, but after spending some time looking for him to cheer Cyn up and watching him help them take care of her, she was sure that he’s certainly worth giving a chance.

#murder drones #murder drones fanfic #n murder drones #murder drones j #murder drones n #murder drones agere #md little cyn #murder drones v #murder drones worker v #murder drones worker j #murder drones Tessa #md cyn #md n #md j #md Tessa #md caretaker v #md caretaker n #murder drones caregiver n #caregiver n miniseries

[theemporium]

Hi royal lestappen anon again

1) SORRY I have a lot of ppl I follow f1 wise and I know sOmEoNe has a princess I just can’t remember who rn

2)you call it making it worse, I call it making it more interesting (read: better (imo))

But YES the isolation is what does max in in the end. Like queenie (I’m sticking with it fuck it) is so fucking lonely and that little scenario where max notices a comment is bothering her and she isn’t immediately abusing power (let’s assume this is something her parents are known for) and firing them/imprisoning them for slander of the crown?

And that’s the moment where he starts befriending her, cause this whole time he’s thought this girl is going to be a tyrant like her parents, and really he realizes that as soon as she offered to cover for him and Charles he should have known then she wasn’t anything like her parents but THIS Is the moment he kinda starts falling for her.

And when Charles gets back max kinda takes him aside and tells him to talk to her since they’re better friends so that she has a chance to vent with him, bc yes queenie and max are friendlier now but they’re not “besties” like Charles is atm with queenie

So Charles talks with queenie and she’s starting to word vomit and hes trying to interrupt her and tell her she’s doing great as a queen but she just won’t stop talking so he just yanks her into a bone crushing hug (cause he can’t kiss her yet, he still hasn’t talked with max bc he knows max is falling for her now too, and something happened while he was gone) to shut her up.

And with her silence he’s doing that head cupping, chin on the shoulder type thing where he’s in a good spot to quietly tell her what he wanted to the whole time she was talking over him.

Of course max is guarding the outside of the room, he heard the rambling stop and is wondering what the hell charles did to get her to stop talking. And he has an image of them kissing in his head and he physically has to shake his head to rid his mind of the image.

Oh god it’s long again but do with that last snippet what you will 🫡

And you know what I have a feeling I’ll be brainrot anoning the royal stuff and I can’t choose an emoji so assign me one. I’m indecisive and can’t choose.

BABE, I AM INDECISIVE TOO!! DONT MAKE KE DECIDE😭😭😭😭😭

no but the way the boys try to make an effort after they realise how lonely she was😭and she’s come to terms with the fact she will never have that romantic relationship with a happy ending she dreamed of, so she settles for the friendship and she seems genuinely happier with it. she has people now. she isn’t totally alone

and the way charles and max start to learn about how different she really is from her parents. they hear the cruel acts and experiences she dealt with first hand, and yet here she is. still so nice to them. still keeping their secret

and they both notice pretty quickly that they are falling for her but she doesn’t believe she’s deserving/capable of love😭she thinks she’s destined for a life where she’s just friends with them at best and she’s made peace with that. but these boys are doing the best they can to prove to her that she deserves that love and they wanna give it to her

and the way max is just SO PROTECTIVE of her now that he knows how she’s being treated. this boy is always one step behind her, glaring at anyone and everyone. and he knows she’s too nice to abuse her power, but he’s ready to throw hands or pull a sword on anyone who dares to disrespect you🫠

#cece answers #royal!lestappen #lestappen.thots