❝friends of the web❞

plot: you have a fear of spiders, but you've made a promise to work past it. peter thinks your determination is really quite adorable. pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: fluff, humor, established relationship, spiders (not graphic), reader has arachnophobia but is being so brave about it, based on the poem "ten legs, eight broken" by I, e on tiktok because it fundamentally changed the way I interact with small bugs forevermore. words: 1.2k.

a/n: I have had pretty bad arachnophobia my entire life and after reading ten legs, eight broken a while back, it convinced me to start saving little spiders I find in my house. this fic is 100% based on how that ends up going every single time. minus peter parker coming to save the day

He's careful, stomach coiled tight to control his breathing. One hand is delicately pinching a bolt with tweezers, the other holding his webshooter frighteningly still. One wrong move would trigger the suspension, and about four hours' worth of fluid refill would end up all over his research notes. He has to be slow. He lowers the tweezers another half inch.

Gently, the bolt's thread catches and he releases the breath he'd been holding. In that same moment, you shout and his tweezers slip.

It's the feeling of webs spraying him in the face that he registers first, their tendrils catching onto his glasses and eyelashes and lips. Then it's your rushed breathing, the pumping of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He doesn't feel a tingle along his spine but your shout jolts Peter out of his spell. In an instant, he's batting away the webs and throwing himself out of his office with enough velocity to take down a wall. He's expecting scorpions, vultures, lizards, his hearing zeroing in on you, and-

-and he turns the corner and there's you, crouched on the floor, hands cupped in front of you—cocooning something. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa." Peter's eyes flit around the room, looking for the threat his senses ought to have picked up on by now, and kneels beside you. He focuses on your hands and your complete and utter lack of urgency. "What's going on?"

You glance to the side, so quick he doesn't even think you register the panic on his face, "Pete, thank God. Can you talk to this thing for me?"

You move your hand and the other breathing thing in the room becomes apparent. A spider, barely the size of a crumb, is crawling over mountains of carpet thread. It's moving quickly but in circles, clearly confounded by the terrain. Peter looks at you. He drags each syllable out as he asks, "What is happening?"

You shift and Peter shifts with you, keeping an eye on the spider, "This thing- this spider is such a jackass."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to get him outside and he won't go."

You've got a flier for Pilates in the Park clenched in one hand, while the other is cautiously putting a wall between the spider and the abyss under your sofa, a place where even Peter dares not go. "Why don't you just kill it?"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. You look horrified at him as you answer, "I can't kill him!"

"Do we- are we sure it's a him? Have you decided he's a him?"

"I made a promise to myself that I would stop killing."

"I don't think... okay, what is going on here?"

You struggle to explain and focus on the spider at the same time, "It's a resolution I made for the new year. That even though I'm terrified of these things, I won't kill them anymore because... because they're living beings just like me." Peter watches you bite your lip, a twinge of pity sewn into the divot between your furrowed brows, "So I'm putting them outside whenever I see one... if only they would stop being jackasses about it."

Peter half-laughs, half-sighs. The little spider crawling around on the ground is none the wiser to your inner peril, "This isn't just because your boyfriend is, like, 1/3 spider, is it? I won't take it personally if you hit him with a shoe."

You snort and place your flier in front of the escaping spider, watching it crawl over the word "yoga" before making a u-turn for the carpet, "Of course not, my spider overlord."

You try to scoop up the spider again but every time you lift the paper, it dives off the other side and back into the carpet. "How long does this usually take?" Peter asks. He sits back on his ass, propping up a knee to rest his arm on.

"Ten minutes at best. If I don't lose them."

"Hm. And this works for you?"

You pout up at him, scooping up the spider again and watching it fly off once more, "I usually manage to get them outside, I'll have you know."

"And the screaming?"

"I never said it was a peaceful process."

"So, let me get this straight," Peter leans into you, "you spot the spider, you grab the nearest piece of paper, you try to get the spider on the paper, and then you...?"

"Scream and run until I make it to the window."

"Why- why the screaming?"

You wince, trying not to lose the bug in the carpet, "Because I'm scared they'll touch me." Your boyfriend tickles his fingers along your arm and you shiver, swatting him with your free hand.

After another failed attempt, Peter places his hand in front of the spider's path and it crawls into his palm to get to the kitchen. Before it can cross over into tiled territory, it's forced to a sudden stop, and Peter takes advantage.

It takes him three strides to get to the living room window, yank it open, and release the spiderling into the wild.

You're standing behind him with a look of frustration on your face, even though your shoulders have finally sagged with relief, "How'd you convince him to sit in your hand like that?"

"I didn't. Sticky hands." Peter wiggles all his fingers at you, amused.

"Wh- that's it? Do they not usually listen to you or something?" You grab one of his hands and quickly realize he's using that ability on you this time. He's got you stuck in a handhold.

"I can't remember when I ever said I could talk to spiders."

"I mean, it seems like a pretty fair assumption," you grumble, trying to shake his hand away before giving in, "they put their juices in you after all."

"Why would you say that?"

"Thanks for the help, by the way. I'm still... getting used to not panicking when I see them."

Peter raises his other hand to your hair and gives you a kiss on the temple, smiling against your skin, "You are so, so, so brave."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty brave to show mercy to something you fear, right? You could've killed it or asked me to do it, but you didn't. You wanted it to live."

"It doesn't mean to scare me," you bring your intertwined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles, "I'd want it to take pity on me if it was the other way around."

"I think the spiders will appreciate that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do they give me such a hard time?"

"Well, you're so scared of them that you don't even realize they're just as scared of you. You gotta make 'em like you, you know?"

"Got any tips for that?"

Peter guides his free hand to your waist, rocking you side to side, "Hm. Buy them sushi. Take them to a midnight showing of Night of the Living Dead. Tell him you think his nerdy rambling after the movie is sexy..." You giggle into Peter's chest and his heart swells, "Don't laugh! It worked on me."

You tilt your head up and he steals a kiss without hesitation, making you stumble on what you say next, "How about you just come let them out for me next time, hm?"

"And if I'm not around?"

"...make me a super scientific spider catching gadget?"

Peter hooks his hands underneath your thighs and hikes you up around his waist, "I'll make you one if you refill my web fluid for me."

"You can fill me with your web fluid."

"Okay. I'm putting you in time out, freak."

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To celebrate hitting 800 followers this week, I will be doing a fun little series of oneshots inspired by various songs from the incredible Taylor Swift (since she is the QUEEN of angsty/fluffy fic inspo)!

All I want you to do is to read through these categories, pick your character, category and song number, and send in your request!

Also—thank you all so much for your support/reads/reblogs/comments/follows/literally everything. I’m flabbergasted by the fact that 800+ of you like me/my content enough to press follow. genuinely. you’re all the best. i love you, truly. sincerely. forevaaa.

(Prompts crossed out have either been posted or are WIP)

Characters:

Pedro Pascal

Din Djarin

Javier Peña

Javi Gutierrez

Robb Stark

Sebastian Stan

Angst Inspo:

Last Kiss — “All that I know is I don’t know how to be something you miss. I never thought we’d have a last kiss.”

I Knew You Were Trouble — “I heard you moved on from whispers on the street. A new notch in your belt is all I’ll ever be.”

I Almost Do — “And I confess, babe, in my dreams you’re touching my face and asking me if I wanna try again with you. And I almost do.”

All Too Well — “You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine, and that made me want to die.”

Right Where You Left Me — “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Breakups happen every day, you don't have to lose it. She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy, and you're sitting in front of me.”

Illicit Affairs — “And you wanna scream don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby": Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else.”

Dancing With Our Hands Tied — “And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis. People started talking, putting us through our paces. I knew there was no one in the world who could take it, I had a bad feeling.”

Back To December — “Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind. You gave me roses and I left them there to die.”

The Way I Loved You — “I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It’s 2 a.m. and I’m cursing your name. So in love that I acted insane, and that’s the way I loved you.”

Sad Beautiful Tragic — “Distance, timing, breakdowns, fighting, silence, the train runs off it’s tracks. Kiss me, try to fix it, will you just try to listen? Hang up, give up, for the life of us we can’t get back.”

Fluff Inspo:

Begin Again — “And we walked down the block to my car and I almost brought him up, but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas, and I will talk about that and for the first time, what’s past is past.”

Ours — “Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. They'll judge it like they know about me and you, and the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury's out, but my choice is you.”

You Are In Love — “You kiss on sidewalks, you fight and you talk. One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, “you're my best friend,”. And you knew what it was, he is in love.”

Gorgeous — “You should take it as a compliment that I'm talking to everyone here but you, and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in the darkened room.”

New Year’s Day — “There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor—you and me, forevermore.”

Lover — “We could let our friends crash in the living room—this is our place, we make the call. And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.”

Paper Rings — “The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met. Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed.”

Love Story — “I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air. See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns, see you make your way through the crowd and say, "Hello".”

King Of My Heart — “Late in the night, the city's asleep. Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. Change my priorities, the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury.”

Mine — “Do you remember, we were sittin', there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time. You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. You are the best thing, that's ever been mine.”

Smut Inspo:

Dress — “All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

Cruel Summer — “Killing me slow, out the window. I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes. What doesn't kill me makes me want you more.”

Style — “So it goes…He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm. Takes me home, the lights are off, he's taking off his coat,”

Wildest Dreams — “I said, "No one has to know what we do". His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room, and his voice is a familiar sound. Nothing lasts forever but this is getting good now.”

False God — “Religion's in your lips, even if it's a false god we'd still worship. We might just get away with it, the altar is my hips. Even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love.”

‘Tis The Damn Season — “We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, write this down: I'm stayin' at my parents' house and the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you in my hometown.”

Cowboy Like Me — “Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon. With your boots beneath my bed forever is the sweetest con.”

Treacherous — “Put your lips close to mine as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, ‘til the gravity's too much. And I'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands, and I'd be smart to walk away but you're quicksand.”

I Think He Knows — “I think he knows his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine.”

I Know Places — “Baby, I know places we won't be found and they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down. 'Cause I, I know places we can hide.”

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I have a mechanic!Frankie thought. So my car died recently in the middle of the night on a country road in the forest, because the battery was faulty. Frankie to the rescue?

A/N: Okay I absolutely love this prompt. Also I know nothing about towing and all the stuff that goes into hooking the cars up to tow trucks. I just know that it is probably very...fun...watching Frankie do this.

Also...first kiss...maybe

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

“This can’t be happening,” you cried, putting your forehead against the steering wheel. It was dark and it looked like you were in the middle of nowhere and, of course, no one else seemed to be on the road. You looked at your phone and luckily you still had a signal. Now all you had to do was think of someone who would be willing to come help you so late at night. You were about to call a towing company before you scrolled through your contacts and saw the one person you knew wouldn’t mind.

Frankie.

You looked at the time then took a deep breath before pushing the call button, already thinking of ways you could make this up to him.

“Hello,” Frankie answered with a groggy voice.

“H-Hey...Frankie? It’s me...” You could hear him moving around as if he was sitting up. Damn, you woke him up.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh...not really. My car just gave out on me in the middle of nowhere.” You looked around again and spotted a sign. “Oh, I think I’m near a trail.” You read the sign out loud and heard some more movement on his end.

“I know exactly where you are. I go for hikes there all the time. I’ll come get you.” He was already putting his shoes on.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“I’m sure and I’ll stay on the phone with you until I get there. I know it can be pretty scary up there when it gets dark.” Okay, you definitely owed him now.

“You really are my hero, you know that? What would I do without you?” you asked and he chuckled.

“You give me way too much credit,” he said. You liked to imagine that he was blushing right now. “If I was any good I would have picked up on something being wrong with your engine after all the times you brought your car in.”

“Don’t do that, Frankie. Don’t discredit yourself.”

“My own worst critic, I guess,” he mumbled.

“Aren’t we all?”

He sighed then spoke again. “What were you doing up that way?”

“Visiting a friend I haven’t seen in a while,” you told him and you noticed the way he went quiet. “Frankie?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Shouldn’t take me too long to get there,” he assured you. You two talked about everything from your favorites colors to favorite ice cream flavors and by the time he got to you, you had forgotten about being stuck in the middle of nowhere in the dark.

You got out of the car when you saw him get out of his truck. “The damsel in distress is here,” you joked.

“Ah, you’re not damsel in distress. Far from it.” He looked at the car then back at you. “I’ll tow it to my garage and work on it first thing tomorrow. You can wait in the truck if you like. Got a spare jacket in there if you’re cold,” he offered.

“Thanks Frankie.”

“No problem. I’ll just need your key.” He held his hand out and you placed your keys there, your fingers brushing his palm ever so lightly. You walked to the truck and grabbed the extra jacket he kept in there and wrapped it around yourself. You weren’t exactly cold but being in his jacket felt like a warm hug and, well, it smelled like him. His scent was quickly becoming one of your favorite things. You stood and watched, suddenly interested in how cars were towed.

The truck’s lights shone on his as he worked to get your car hooked up. You tried your best not to outwardly ogle the poor man as he bent and stretched, but the way the shirt tightened around his shoulders and back was almost hypnotizing. Suddenly he turned to you and you looked away quickly making it glaringly obvious that you were staring.

“All right. We’re good to go,” he said, brushing his hands off as he walked to the truck. He climbed in and you followed, watching him press a few buttons to get things moving. “Let’s get your baby to the garage.”

The ride to the garage was quiet, but comfortably so. You caught yourself turning to look at him every so often and sometimes he would look at you too.

“Thanks again,” you said as he climbed back in to the truck after unhooking your car from it.

“No problem. I promise I’ll sort everything out. Hopefully, I’ll have it all fixed tomorrow,” he said.

“Now I really owe you dinner, huh?”

“You don’t owe me a thing.” He pulled onto the road and started driving in the direction of your house.

“But I do.” You put your hand over the one he had resting on the center console and squeezed. “I do.” He looked at your hand then back at the road, swallowing hard.

“Dinner it is then,” he relented.

When he pulled up to your house, you didn’t want to get out of the truck. You didn’t even want to unwrap yourself from his jacket, but you did and folded it nicely before putting it on the backseat.

“I can’t begin to thank you enough,” you started.

“You already have.” He turned to you and you turned to him and suddenly you both were leaning in. Then his lips were on yours. It was the softest kiss you had ever experienced. His lips were even softer. You both opened your eyes at the same time and backed away from each other slowly.

“Sorry,” you both said in unison.

“Don’t be,” you said together again before laughing and looking away from each other.

“So, uh, dinner...my place...let me know when is a good time for you, okay?” You opened the door and hopped out of the truck. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. I’ll call you when your car is ready.”

“Sounds good. This is really dramatic but I’ll never forget that you did this for me and I know I’ve said it too many times already but thank you, Frankie.” You put your hand over your heart.

“I’d do all over again if I had to,” he confessed. You lingered for a moment before finally closing the truck door and walking to your door. You looked back once more and waved then watched as he drove off.

There were a few things you would never forget about this night.

frankie taglist: @fakenoods @oldstuffnewstuff @the-bird-suit @lestrange2703 @findhimfives @windfallss @rach7 @surfsup666 @theghostwiththemost-babe @marshmallow–3 @mrschiltoncat @aplaceofpeace @josepedropascal @mitchi-c @jeeperky @allthingsnarcos @laymegentlytorest @stanfordscrush @fangirlingss @nathan-bateman @darthdumbasss @helga1031 @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @heythere80sbaby @deserttastesbitter @dindjstarin @mandodjarinn @frankie-stein18 @funkylittlebisexuall @16boyfriends-and-me @marvelousmermaid @slugbuggie @ladyblogger-margie @queenbbarnes @dodgerandevans @terrormonster55 @queridopascal @hells-bells-x @allmahfeels @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @blackberries45 @darnitdraco @nemo-my-name-forevermore @dindjarinneedsahug

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i'm in love with someone who has to be away from me for two years, but i think we're going to make it. two years only seems like a long time from this side of it, right? and i think he might be the love of my life, even though he's my first love.

anyways. on that note, do you think you could write me something inspired by these lyrics?

"Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared

And you're turning away

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you"

Hiiii, I was so deeply touched when I first read this ask and couldn't stop thinking about it since then. I finally managed to write a little something for you where I'm trying to, besides everything else, to tell you how you and the one you love will always be important to one another and will always be a part of, as I like to call it, each other's individual unique portraits. I tried not to be too specific when it came to the matter of memories, feel free to insert your own while reading. Sending lots of love and flowers💖🌸🌻💐💜

Here is the writing:

over the timeline table

In the loud silence of the night, I turn around to look at you, but you are not there. Somebody else is behind me, a shadow, a lovely friend, a beloved shape of me that was before. You are what lies ahead, looking over the timeline table, your smile identical to my own. One would claim the said table to be a mirror, for our features resemble one another's, your colour pallet mixing with mine, creating a pleasant shade of gold. Around us a peculiar layer of images, vivid memories embracing us, running through our bones. I can see it, your hand holding mine in the grocery store, my old shoes on the pavement leading us to your house, your eyes sprinkled with tears caused by laughter. All of it I could call home, without a flicker of what they refer to as doubt. Doubt I do not feel and I do not know. For me enough is the thought of you, me, us, existing together in a time loop, somewhere, someday, never less of a forever. I smile, for you will always know that part of me and I will always know that part of you. You smile, for you understand what I have just thought. Everlasting is the picture of this particular me smiling at this particular you. You whisper something ordinary, something meaningless, something not romantic at all. And I love you and I love, love, love you and I say I want your midnights and at that you chuckle, your face glistening in glowing sunsets despite the night and the cold. And I know that you will be there, at the end of the road, in whatever reality, having found your home.

I want to tell you to kiss me for forever, for now, for always, but I don't. Instead I pass you a little note, one sweet memory grazing my arm as it travels through the clock. You put the note in your pocket, you know what I wrote. That's when you sing you and me forevermore? and at that I nod.

Bittersweet is the creation of life where every moment is both brief and prolonged.

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You find him under a bench in Berlin, more skeleton than man. It is 1955. It is winter. It is the post war era. Behind every dingy, squalid corridor you're bound to find a hundred of them, the left over almost-corpses that god just wasn't kind enough to kill. Haunted by a memory of a Germany that just doesn't exist anymore with charcoal padded under their eyes, limbs trebling from one two many needles. You're sure that if you pulled that ratty, dark blue coat sleeve you'd find his similarly pockmarked with cowardice. Still, something draws you in closer, a shiver, something about him seems heavier, denser, like his very body extends with gravity. A planetary mass. His neck snaps up in a lightening motion and he smiles, his mouth a crooked line that resembled a mountain you swear you've seen in the horizon, somewhere in the east. Beggars aren't allowed to be this beautiful. You shudder. And you take him home.

To your surprise, his skin is deceptively smooth. Like untouched snow after a blizzard- and you search him thoroughly, almost desperately, during your intimate moments, for some sort of mark, some sort of human imperfection. He allows you, absently, as if he’s been through this before, and strokes your hair as his mind wanders into places you know you will never reach. But that comes after, first, you seat him on the rim of your bathtub. He is listless, almost bored, as you wipe the river of blood off his shoulder. There’s no entrance wound, exit wound, no highway crossing where it could come from and after 20 minutes of frantic scrubbing, his hand grips yours. “It’s not mine,” he tells you gently, with that same crocked smile, eyes a circle of glowing blue like the hottest kind of fire, and you pretend not to notice as a very, very fresh red droplet runs down your porcelain bathtub and streaks red onto the tile. There’s not enough of him and there’s too much. After a week, his presence on the couch, skeleton hands gripping a book or remote seems commonplace. His place at your dinner table, the second pair of shoes thrown carelessly next to your orderly ones. The permanent, watery brown stain on your granite countertop where he'd spilled tea and that neither of you bothered to clean up. He is an indelible and yet insignificant mark. Most days, it's nice, quaint, the gentle buzz from the television every time you come back home, his coarse laugh punctuating a mediocre sitcom joke, the way he threatens bodily violence on inanimate objects for refusing to bend to his will. Other times, he is something just north of uncanny valley. He is wearing human skin. Sometimes, at night, he doesn't seem to be breathing and every few weeks, for a second at a time, you'd swear his eyes flashed a macabre red. Two months in and he still doesn’t have his own clothes. Doesn’t have his own closet. You offer to take him shopping, to empty out another shelf but he only shakes his head gently, pityingly, “I don’t own things.” You’re not sure if he’s crazy or if he’s one of those communist philosophy types. You’re not sure if you’d care if he was. You press your lips together. Don’t say anything about how his old clothes seemed to have vanished from the laundry altogether. Three months in and you don’t know his last name. You ask once, casually, assuming that a man abandoned to the snow wouldn’t care much for family anyways. (You can relate, your strict, catholic mother and even stricter pastor father are tucked far away somewhere in a mountain village in Saarland. Out of sight and out of mind.) But he says nothing, or smiles in that whimsically gentle way of his, or stares blankly as if he isn’t sure what a last name is. Sometimes he carefully grasps your hands and kisses you as a distraction and in those moments you’re sure you could live without knowing. Sometimes, you see his gaze catch on the window and you know he is somewhere else. Doesn’t feel like he was ever here in the first place, a ghost boy that floats around your apartment and gives you frigid smiles in place of actual conversation. Once, he lays awake in bed with you and asks if you will remember him on your deathbed with an earnest that makes you want to climb out of bed and vomit. His eyes flash blood and pin you to the bed. Yes, you say, without really understanding why, yes even when you are gone I will remember you always even in the smallest things even when there is nothing more to remember. His eyes go back to blue and you drift off into dreams about an achingly vast field with no horizon and crooked mountains shaped like a smile All at once you are disastrously, cripplingly in love. Falling from a cliff. You try every method in the book to ground him. You bring him flowers in the middle of winter, you buy him books, watches, a cell phone, wine, chocolates, a car. You clean up your act, work out, pen him love letters in the candle light when you think he’s sleeping, insist on cooking the food you think he likes. You drive her to parks. A cottage by the sea, take him to every pretty place in Germany that might even slightly interest him. Cologne, Dresden, Munich, Heidelberg, Watzmann, Brocken. You He dismissed every material gift with an apologetic shake of the head, almost disappointed you don’t understand. His fingers wrap around your wrist and you can feel the cold from his skin drip into yours as he pulls you close, whispering gently, a reminder, “I do not own things.” And I cannot be owned, without saying. The places, however, slaps him out of despondency. He puts a hand to an oak tree in a park in Heidelberg and tells you, absently, his voice drenched in memories, “Someone I loved is buried here.” He sees things you do not. He stares at abandoned buildings with a remorse and vindication you do not understand. There is a tragedy under the bridges, in every lake, that he seems intimate with. In cologne, he strikes a match and lights up a car at 9:43 pm. The pretentious, red thing goes up in smoke a carcass of metal and charred leather seats. He is seething with rage and you don’t touch him because you know he’d burn you if you did but you watch. In rapture and fear. He seems to consider doing the same to the house, but doesn’t. It feels empty, the motion, like the brace before firing a gun. Except there’s no bullets. You watch as the dancing flames reflect on his face, still perfect as soot begins to gather like dark butterflies. “Why?” You ask, sacrilegiously. Breaking the silence of that distinctly consecrated night. Even the stars seem to be holding their breath. “Personal despair could never be desperate enough," he tells you, watching as the smoke gathered and swirled off into the open night sky. A translation of pain, “When tragedy happens, it needs to pass down the line, like a disease. There is an innate sin in the blood of some people.” Like most things, this escapes your comprehension entirely, and all you can focus on, even when the police sirens start blaring, is how beautifully the red reflects off his irises. He gives you a wayward grin. Like he’s done this before- and he has, you know he had- as he grasps your hand with a grip that for once feels real and solid as he darts the other way, dragging you along behind him in this mad dash. He laughs, the sound beautiful and loud and perfect, like church bells or sermon. Something holy, pure. You’re just sane enough to stop your ethereal, cackling lover from veering into oncoming traffic. He looks at you were a eerie intensity that makes you stammer an apology, an apology that he quickly cuts off as he pushes you against exposed brick and crushes his lips to yours. Your tongue flooding with the taste of him, a musky wilderness. There’s a sigh, somewhere, and even though you’ve had sex this feels like the most heart trending thing you’ve ever done in your life. You tremble. Your arms slip around his waist, pulling him closer, as if forevermore. As if drinking god. It’s enough to make you forget that it’s the 50s and that you’re both boys and that if any police officer caught the way his fingers were tenderly, tenderly brushing against your cheek, both of you would be carted off to jail for a decade but you don't care, really you don't, for the first time you feel as if you know him. Gilbert. Your Gilbert. - When the story ends, you're on the floor and the coolness of his skin seems to finally have crawled inside you, making a home amongst your other fragile, human organs. He stands above you with his red eyes, disappointed but not surprised. He mumbled something about this before, in the beginning, about what it would be like once you knew, what the pain would feel like. A sigh from him and you know without looking that all the stars outside the glass have blinked out, that every single other person in the apartment besides you and Him have gone still, paused or maybe dead. Maybe it was the whole street, the country, a few million bodies and still, how can it said to have mattered? "Ignorance isn't safety," He quietly tells your quaking form, in some something that could've been kindness, "Tell me, how many poor weeds have you stepped on, unthinkingly, in your lifetime?" The clock doesn't tick but you can feel the universe moving, entropy. You can feel the vastness of it, remember those dreams with out any horizons in sight and the knowledge weighs down on you like a million bowling balls. "You promised to remember me," He reminds you, his voice still quiet but brimming with an emotion that hasn't quiet come to a boil, "We had more than this." All of Germany shifts slightly, as if moving in its sleep, and the stars blink back, your breath releases. "If I've hurt you," he begins, but shakes his head, stumbling over words that he knows you won't ever really understand, won't forgive him if he lets you know. Resignation, tinged: resentment, "You'll go on living just fine." You look up at him once, I love you, your look says, but he does not look back. The door closes. There are no footsteps down the hall.

How I’m Doing?

*gif credits to owner

*based on the song, how’m doing, by eric nam.

Taeyong woke up from the birds chirping outside the apartment window, he always felt at peace whenever he woke up in your home, instead of the cold grey walls of his dorm room, he woke up to your bookshelf on the corner, photos of the two of you hung on the wall in perfect order as he did it himself, your plushies on his side, the fur of one of them tickling his arm. He leans back on the bed, taking in the serendipity of the atmosphere of your home. He reaches a hand out to brush back your hair from your delicate face, the ray of sun shining down on you making you look like a goddess, his very own Aphrodite.

Taeyong snuggles close to you, arms and legs draping over your rather smaller frame, fitting like a missing puzzle piece. He realises that the two of you nearly been together for five years now, oh how time flies whenever he’s happy, there’s many things he’s grateful for these past five years, his members, the staff, and most importantly, you.

You were there when Nct 127 won their first major award, celebrating like teenagers, the sun quickly reaching its horizon, the Taeyong then didn’t think as deeply about you, given the two of you just met, but he adores how you were as happy as him, even if it’s his award.

You were there when he overworked himself, working on tracks for nct as well as superm till late at night in the studio. His heart aches whenever he comes home to see you fast asleep on the couch with the tv still playing old reruns, at moments like those, he’s sorry for being so distracted by his job, neglecting your love and dedication towards him. Every single time that happens, he would carry you into bed, with the promise that he’ll be a better boyfriend.

Taeyong knows how fast you fell for him, given he was your first love. Although he was your first, you never failed to put him first for everything, taking care of him when he’s injured or sick. He know it isn’t easy being with him, and he knows that at times, it hurts you. So he tries to change, be mindful of his schedule, making time for you, caring for you when you need him.

Taeyong feels an immense amount of guilt when he doesn’t make it for you, when he has to cancel dates, when he has to hide you from the public eye, fearing for your personal safety, but he’s most guilty when he found out that ever since he had haters bashing on him, you’d be there to comfort him, you’d be the one who stays up till late at night to write emails to his own company to take action, you’d be the one who calls his manager to provide the boys more bodyguards, you’d be the one creating anonymous accounts just to clap back at those people who were hating on him. No matter how many times he gets caught up in rumours, you’d be there to fight for him.

Taeyong hopes he’s doing better, every hour, every minute, every second, as a lover you deserve. If Taeyong could, he’d give the world to you, just to see your precious smile.

Taeyong wonders how he’s doing. Is he giving you enough love? Is he neglecting you in any sort of way? Is he showing you enough attention and affection? Should he buy you more clothes? or bags? or shoes? Did the songs he wrote based on really you justified his love for you?

Taeyong wants to be the man you need, as selfish as that sounds. He wants to keep you next to him for as long as you’ll allow him, wishing and praying day and night you’ll be the one who grows old with him.  He knows he’s a busy man because of his job, but he wants to be the one you call for anything at all. He wants to be your forevermore.

Loba x Reader x Crypto: ‘Something More’ (Part 2/2) SMUT 18+

Summary: A continuation of Part I in which Loba, Crypto and The Reader go back to the Reader's room in the legends compound to decrypt the files taken from Pathfinder's chip. Inevitably, Loba's proposition is brought up and smut ensues. You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer!

A/N:  Hello! Here's the second and final part. This chapter does contain smut after the cut. I've spent the best part of a month on this so I promise there is still a plot as well :D Hope you like it! And I would love to hear your thoughts!  Reader's pronouns aren't specified however they are referred to as having a vagina/breasts etc. so please keep that in mind x Warnings under the cut!

Words: 7, 788

Warnings: This fic contains heavy smut including oral (reader receiving and giving), fingering, penetrative sex and scissoring

The rest of the match went relatively uneventfully, with the three of you finishing fourth after being ambushed by another squad. There hadn’t even been enough time to see who it was before you blacked out. When you awoke, a bright light beaming down upon you made you squeeze your eyes shut again. Forcing yourself to sit up, you felt the familiar rubber of the med bay beds beneath your fingertips. When you dared open your eyes again the lights weren’t so bad and you could actually look around the room. Your head felt heavy, your mind off-centered. A nurse was wrapping your fingers around a glass of water before you could ask for one to soothe your aching throat.

“Hey, can you tell me where you are?” He asked you. Bright eyes brimmed over the top of his surgical mask. He was the same nurse from every other time you were revived after a match and he always had the same questions.

“The med bay back at the compound?” You asked, cautiously lifting the water to your lips.

“Yeah! Well done out there today. You guys were great!” He took the empty glass from you when you were finished and set it down by the sink, his black scrubs rustling as he moved around the room, looking at the various monitors that hung like cobwebs from the walls, “How are you feeling?”

“Just a small headache. The usual.” You answered, knowing if you gave even a slightly different answer you could end up stuck in here for days. The headache you had post-match was always the same, pounding and everywhere all at once. It probably had something to do with the serum they used to revive you after the match but you were more concerned about Loba and Crypto right now. You hadn’t seen them go down.

“Great! Well, you’re all healed, vitals are great. You’re free to head out.” He seemed to sense your eagerness to leave and for that you were thankful.

Loba was waiting for you outside the room when you stepped out, pushing herself off the wall and uncrossing her arms when she saw you. She walked towards you with her arms open, engulfing you in a hug when she reached you. With her six-inch heels and already naturally impressive height, she almost dwarfed you, your chin only just being able to rest atop her shoulder. You knew she was just glad you were okay, but displays of affection were rare for her. Even if the hallway you were in was empty. Usually, she wouldn’t be caught sharing any shred of weakness, but after a match? She always got a little sappy, even if she would never admit it.

“Shall we go wait for the hacker?” She pulled back to look at your face and you nodded before taking her hand, walking towards Crypto’s usual med bay room. His name printed on the outside of the door. Loba peered through a tiny window in the door. “Is he still in there?” You asked. It was unusual for anyone to be kept so long and he knew not to say anything that might prolong his stay. Unless there was some kind of complication? You tried not to think about it.

Loba scoffed. “Oh please, he wouldn’t leave without seeing you alive and well first. He’s still in there alright.” She spared a glance your way and recognised that look on your face. You were worried, even though the chances of any post-match complications were extremely low, nearly non-existent. “I wouldn’t worry, sweetheart. He was downed last so they’ll have had less time with him than us.” She saw that did very little to calm your nerves and decided to change the subject to take your mind off of it. She lowered her voice, knowing for sure that there were cameras and microphones all over this place. “Hey, we might get some promising information out of that chip, huh? Any information we can get on them brings us one step closer, no matter how small the step.” All you did was nod when usually you’d be beaming with excitement at the prospects of new information on the Syndicate and you weren't doing a particularly good job of hiding the fact that you couldn't care less about anything right now except for Crypto still being in that room.

“You really give a shit about him, huh?” she asks and you look to her, confused.

“If it was you in there I’d be just as worried.” Loba sighed and took your hand again, bringing your knuckles to her lips before squeezing your fingers gently, careful not to scratch you with her nails. That meant more to her than you knew.

The door before you opened with a click as Crypto finally emerged, hands already stuffed back in his jacket pockets by the time the door shut behind him. The look of relief on your face was enough to tell him you’d been worrying. You had dropped Loba’s hand in an instant and went to hug him, opening your arms a little first and waiting for his permission. He felt himself sigh into your arms, his own wrapping around you tightly as he could. However brief, he would always treasure each touch you gave him. You made him realise how much he craved being held, being close to people. It made him forevermore thankful that he was lucky to be as close to you as he was, even Loba as well to some extent. You shared a piece of your life with him, your kindness, your time and occasionally: your bed. Whilst you did the same for Loba, he never found himself growing jealous, only more thankful to have you when he did.

“You still got the chip?” Loba asked him over your shoulder. He nodded. “We had better get to it. The decryption might take a while.”

The first thing you did when you got back to your room was kick off your shoes and flop down, face-first, on your bed. All the running and the stress of the games could really take its toll. Meanwhile, Crypto headed straight for your PC, plugging in all kinds of strange contraptions and external hard drives no doubt filled with some kind of dodgy software. Loba asked if she could use your shower to which you told her there were already fresh towels in there ready to be used as you gathered a bundle of clothes for her to wear when she finished.

You looked to your broken arm shield emitter and groaned as you were getting changed into more comfortable clothes than your games gear, the realisation that you actually had to fix it dawned on you. You struggled to your feet and pulled up a chair beside Crypto at your desk and released the shield from your arm with a whirr. Most of it had survived, only a few small grenade fragments lay buried within it. Easy fix.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I overheard some of what you guys were saying earlier. Loba had her communicator still on. And I just want you to know that although I did tell Loba about us sleeping together, I haven’t said a word about… you know, you. Your identity. That’s yours to tell and I would never betray that information to anyone, even Loba.” You were one of two living people with the privilege of referring to him by his real name in private. By telling you about his past, even just by telling you his name, he put so much trust in you. And you wouldn't betray that for anyone.

He stopped typing to look at you, letting you know he was sincere. “I know you wouldn’t. I trust you more than anyone. But thank you for the reassurance. And I’m sorry that you heard that, I don’t wish for you to be treated like an object.”

You knew then that he didn't quite trust Loba’s intentions with her proposition but were quick to reassure him. “Oh, don’t worry. Loba asked if I was down for it beforehand. And it’s sweet that you two want to make me feel good, but I don’t require any payment for what I do for you two, especially in that kinda way. I do it because I care about you.” Tweezers in hand, you carefully began removing the fragments from your device. It was a good excuse to not have to look Taejoon in the eye during the conversation.

“Heh, that’s precisely why Loba thought you to be deserving of such an arrangement. And I have to say, I agree. You need to let us give back to you, though it doesn’t have to be in the form of what Loba was suggesting. In any way that you choose.” You could have laughed. On their own, they were amazing enough, both more than proficient and attentive lovers but together? You couldn't help but groan at the thought. “ Trust me , as long as you two are up for it that arrangement is totally fine by me! I couldn't think of anything better.”

You see Crypto’s head move suddenly in the corner of your eye, you turn to see Loba looking the softest you had ever seen her. Her hair was damp, falling all the way down to her waist. A pair of your baggy sweatpants hung low around her hips. She looked comfortable, her eyes held no sense of impending danger and you swore it was the first time you had seen her so at ease.

“Is that my shirt?” Crypto asks and she shrugs, looking down at the plain black material. “I don’t know, is it? It’s… cute?”, You sheepishly turn back to face Crypto as Loba dives straight onto your bed, stretching out on her back. “Maybe?” you offered, knowing damn well it was his from the last time he had stayed over. He wasn’t going to pry it off of you as you slept, especially since you looked so comfortable. It was his pair of sweatpants too, but he didn't need to know that. A low grumble sounded from your stomach and you took that to be the perfect topic change, “How about take-out?”.

“Lovely idea, I’m starving!”

You phoned up the best pizza company you knew, the woman on the line informed you that it would take a while because of the games. People liked to go for pizza after watching the apex games apparently. “We’re going to have to wait a while.” You said solemnly, hopping onto your bed behind Loba and taking your hairbrush from her hand. Her hair was long and so very soft. Crypto politely excused himself to also take a shower whilst you played with her hair. You combed through it with your fingers first. Loba released a long breath as you dragged the brush from the edge of her forehead, down her scalp and all the way down her back, holding the ends in your other hand. “So Crypto’s down for your idea.” You gently gathered her hair together in a bunch before letting it fan out again over her back, the strands so long they reached the covers below.

Loba leant back a little, resting on her palms. “Oh? I’m not surprised. He seems like he would do anything that involves you. That poor boy looks at you like you’re made of gold.” She chuckled, looking back at you over her shoulder. You pecked her lips, her skin was soft and supple with a subtle hint of cherry lip balm. “Ugh, I can’t wait to devour you.” She groaned, “If he doesn’t get out of that shower in the next two minutes, we’re starting without him.”

“So impatient!” You laughed, “Hair up or down?”

“Eh, leave it down.”

Crypto made his way out the bathroom still towelling off his soggy hair. He set his jacket on the back of your desk chair, along with his waistcoat and every other piece of his games gear apart from his baggy trousers and t-shirt. The pendants on his necklaces jingled together as he moved around, like a cat with a bell.

Far too impatient for subtly it seems, Loba decided now was the best time to initiate things “She looks good enough to eat, don’t you think Crypto?” He stops in his tracks, towel still raised to his head with his mouth hanging open before he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He hummed in agreement, taking the towel and folding it in half before laying it over the chair behind him. He now leaned his back against the desk so he could face you, bare arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you. You couldn’t help but blush at Loba’s words and the way he was looking at you, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Loba now turned to face you, mischief and wanting in her eyes and leaned in close. “We would love to take care of you if you’ll have us, of course.” She pressed a single kiss to the side of your neck, your skin tingling from the warmth of her lips, “What do you say?” You turned your attention back to Crypto who looked at you in question, his head tilted. Neither of them were moving without your say so.

“Sounds perfect.”

With that pushed you back so your head lay gently on the pillows. Her finger wagged in Crypto’s direction when he took a step forward, telling him to stay put. He gulped and leant back against the desk again. “Well then. Just relax and let us take care of you, hm?” She ended her question with a smile, already sliding downwards onto the bed in front of you. Placing her hands on either side of your sweatpants and giving the outside of your thighs a light squeeze. She looked up at you through her lashes, asking if she could take them off. You nodded and soon she had them tugged off, your socks soon followed.

She leant right down, pressing a kiss to the cloth of your underwear, her lips putting the lightest flutter of pressure on your heat. Your mouth fell open and she laughed quietly, seeing a dark patch on the fabric of your underwear. “Mhmm already dripping for us, Crypto.” she called back to him over her shoulder, “What do you say we take these off as well? No need to be shy. We already know how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” You nodded again, her fingers delicately taking the band of your underwear and making quick work of shimming them off your legs. A string of words, no doubt in Portuguese left her, as she took a moment to look at you. She had spoken far too quickly for you to have any hope of understanding what she was saying.

Her hands were on your sides in an instant, and her lips were back on yours as her hands made their slow descent back down towards your heat. Her kisses a rough contrast to the preciseness of her touch. She kissed with her heart it seems, everything else was calculated. A shiver wracked its way through you when her fingertips reached the hem of your shirt, but she didn’t lift it, only gently massaged the bottom of your stomach and over the tops of your thighs. Circular motions everywhere except the place you wanted them to be.

Her lips left you as you whined softly, “So eager.” she smiled at you again, before leaning in to kiss your neck as her fingers finally touched where you so craved them so much. A moan escaped you as she wasted no time in finding your heat, circling her two fingertips within its wetness before dragging them up and down your slit. Over her shoulder, you could see Crypto standing biting his lip so hard it looked like it would bleed, face flushed.

Sucking gently on the soft skin of your neck, Loba pressed her two fingers right onto your clit. You couldn’t help the noises that escaped you or how you clung to her so desperately. She soon switched back and forth between gently massaging all-around your folds and slowly circling one finger directly to your nub. She was teasing you. The alteration driving you insane, legs beginning to shake. Just as you felt the dam about to burst she drew back away from you entirely, leaning back on her knees as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked on them lightly.

“How does she taste?” Crypto asked, his face warm. Loba leaned back from you and you near-whined at the loss.

She brought her fingers back down your heat and gathered some of your wetness onto her fingers again, standing and extending her fingers in his direction. “Like honey. Want to try?” He bypassed her altogether and walked towards you. “Suit yourself, Hacker,” she rolled her eyes.

“May I?” He asked so softly you nearly melted then and there. “Yes, please.” You managed and before you knew it he was sliding one of your legs over his shoulder, shortly followed by the other. He began by pressing the gentlest of kisses to your thighs.

“Ooh nevermind.” Loba went back on her previous statement with an approving nod of her head, “One second.” The glare he sent in her direction could’ve stopped a charging bull but Loba just waved him off and laid down beside you, pulling you into her lap so she could support your body. Crypto tugged you down towards him so the back of your head rested against Loba’s chest. Warmth radiated from Loba’s body beneath you in a constant wave of gentle, comforting heat but your focus wasn’t on her right now.

The moment his mouth made contact with your core, your body went lax. His tongue came right after and your back arched with such ferocity that Loba almost lost her hold on you. When the most desperate noise left you, you felt the vibrations of his laughter roll through you and his hands gripped the tops of your thighs more firmly to keep you in place. His eyes flickered up to you for a moment, soon after your hands found his hair, tugging lightly on the damp ends in an attempt to have him closer.

Loba’s lips ghosted over the shell of your ear “I know you said he was good but you really weren’t kidding,” she whispered before her mouth before she latched her lips back onto your neck.

Tugging his hair seemed to only spur him on more as the groan he emitted was borderline feral, bringing his tongue to circle over your clit at such a pace that the pressure built within you to the point where you were about to burst and likely would have had to not pulled back for a second to quickly catch his breath and get a better look at you.

“I know you want to come on his tongue, beautiful. Go on.” Crypto was back between your legs then, doubling his pace. “Come for us.” She whispered just as Crypto decided to wrap his lips around your clit and suck. You lurched upright, grip tight on his hair as you grind your pussy against his lips. When he slowly coated one of his fingers before slowly pressing it into you and pumping to the rhythm of his mouth, that was it for you.

Your body barely felt like you controlled its movement anymore as pleasure wracked its way through you in gushing waves. A drawn-out moan you’d probably be embarrassed about later escaped you as you went limp in Loba’s arms. Crypto helped you ride it out, wanting to make you feel the best he could. His tongue didn’t leave you until your pussy ceased its tensing then releasing around his finger, pulling it out of you and to his lips immediately. Loba’s arms kept you steady as your body slowly returned to normal, cold air stinging as Crypto left you. You missed his mouth and hands on you immediately but Loba was quick to distract you by helping you rid yourself of your shirt all whilst trying to keep her lips latched on to yours. Her fingers so swift in how they undressed you and herself that you were suddenly reminded that she was a thief, quick hand movements were her speciality. Her hand came to cup your bare breast for a moment, glee in her eyes at the sight. Once you helped her out of most of her clothes, you felt Crypto’s lips on the side of your neck. His mouth leaving marks no doubt right beside the ones Loba had made already. A hand in his hair again had him whimpering. Loba noticed and released you so you turned to face him, your mouth finding his as you stood on shaky legs. His lips were swollen but still soft. He kisses you like it was the last time he would have the chance, one hand gently cupping your face as his other arm wrapped around you.

“I’m going to let you two have this round.” You pulled back from Crypto and looked at her with confusion, she hadn’t even had any kind of pleasure yet and she still insisted you and Crypto go ahead. “I like to watch.” She clarified with a smirk, seating herself in your desk chair, legs folded neatly over one another. Her lacy black bra and panties somehow made her even more attractive but comply with her wishes you would. Plus you wanted the chance to repay Crypto for his services.

Soon enough, Crypto is stripped of all but his boxers, seated upright at the edge of your bed and facing Loba’s general direction. Running your finger over his cheekbone, you look down to notice just how hard he is. “You like eating me out that much, huh?” You asked as you swung one leg over both of his and knelt so you could grind against him, wringing your arms around his neck. You felt just how hard he was then and Crypto looked like he might have came if you weren’t careful, his mouth opened slightly, eyes closed. His hands found the bottom of your back to keep you steady as you slowly grinded onto him, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against your sensitive lips. “예수 그리스도'' He moaned at the feeling, bottom lip now trapped between his teeth.

“Really wanna ride you.” You told him and his eyes snapped open, hand gently cupping your cheek as he brought you in for another kiss.

“Then ride me.”

You sat back from him to run your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling it twitch with your touch. Soft moans fell from his mouth with each drawn-out stroke, he was so terribly sensitive. Tentatively tugging down his boxers, you freed his member from its confines and rubbed along the shaft before thumbing its tip. His throat hitched.

“If you keep touching me like that, this is going to be over a lot quicker than either of us could have hoped,” His hand found your bare pussy again, fingers gliding through your folds to make sure you were still wet enough to take him, “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Leaning further forward so your hips rested against his, bracing against his strong chest for support, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready.” You told him. Without a word, Crypto reached down and aligned the two of you before oh-so-slowly lowering you back down onto his lap, feeling his length buried within you to the hilt.

You moaned together when he filled you, Crypto burying his head in your shoulder when you began to move, his hips rocking to meet the rhythm of yours. It felt delicious, his length rubbed your walls in all the right places and you felt a pressure begin to build quickly within your stomach again. His moans were so soft you almost had to strain to hear him but his strong grip on your hips as you swayed atop him telling enough.

Looking over your shoulder for a moment, you saw Loba lazily rubbing herself through her underwear, her eyes utterly transfixed on you and Crypto. One particularly measured thrust on his part hit your most sensitive spot directly and had your attention turned all the way back to him immediately. Gripping his hair as you rode him, you felt the pressure of his teeth on your shoulder as he bit back a moan. You slowed your pace and tilted his face up to see yours.

“Be as loud as you want baby, we wanna hear you,” you assured him and he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, skin flushed and lips bitten. You felt his cock twitch inside of you.

Pulling you back towards him so you were flesh to flesh, his hips snapped up into you with renewed vigour as his lips found your neck. Right next to another small mark Loba had left not a few moments earlier, he tentatively suckled on your skin until it bloomed. He swore he wasn’t a jealous person, he just wanted things to be even. His lips slowly trailed down towards your chest until he found one of your breasts, ready and waiting for him.

You let your head fall back. His consistent pumping up into you, filling you over and over and his tongue on your nipple combined with the knowledge that Loba was watching and enjoying all of this was quickly becoming too much for you to handle. You felt his cock twitch within you again.

You cupped his face in your hands as you brought him away from your nipple to press his swollen lips to yours again. That was when he reached between you and let his fingers trail over you clit. A cry escaped you. You were reaching the point of overstimulation and it felt like heaven.

When his thrusts became distractingly fast, you had to leave his lips but still held his face in your hands. “Come for me baby,” you told him and he felt his mind going numb. A few more thrusts and he was spent, all low moans and mumbles as he buried his face in your chest. His warm release within you felt so good, coating your walls and making you feel so wonderfully full. The coil in your stomach was wound, near the point of breaking now, but it wasn’t enough for you to reach your peak.

You just held each other for a few moments, petting over his hair as you relaxed in his arms. Even though you hadn’t come a second time that didn’t matter all that much when he still managed to make you feel as good as he did. When he caught his breath he looked up at you and frowned, “You didn’t-“

Loba was quick to interrupt him. She was up from her chair and walking towards you the moment you had regulated your breathing, “I’ll take care of that, pretty boy. Go take a minute.” With one last kiss and a groan as he pulled out of you, he reluctantly lifted you off his lap and sat you gently on your bed. He usually held you for hours after sex so this was new for him but just as he was learning to trust, he was also learning to compromise.

Loba bent down beside you as Crypto got up from your bed, tilting your chin upwards with her fingertip. “Ooh what a mess he made, hmm? Guess I had better help you clean up.” You were already oh so sensitive but your release was building again, all worked up from Crypto’s cock but surely going to be finished by Loba’s fingers.

Her touch was so different to Crypto’s, so delicate yet precise. She Plucked your body as if you were a harp, and she was a harpist with the most experienced hands. Her hands trailed over your shoulders and your chest, a nipple pinched and pressed deliciously between her fingers. With a few strange movements of your legs, Loba manoeuvres you by your hips, weaving your legs together. She draws her fingers up the underside of your thigh then down your lower leg, teasingly with a wicked grin plastered across her face as she does.

Loba scoots you closer together, her hands exploring your thighs as she goes, until you’re so close to her that you can feel the heat of her pussy against your own. She pulls you in for a kiss again and you take a handful of her full breasts. Loba rocks forward suddenly, rubbing your dripping cores together. She was most definitely keeping herself busy whilst you were with Crypto because she was soaking. Your pussy was so sensitive, so worked-up again that even the slightest touch had you reeling. Another slow grind and Loba’s eyes flutter closed. A twist of your thighs and you were fully locked together, her core providing yours with a delicious pressure. With a groan, Loba favoured a rougher rolling motion, her nails clawing at your thighs as your clits rub together.

“Shit!” Loba cries and her hips jerk into yours more sloppily. It was rare to see her so needy. The pressure from her clit on yours and the way her face contorted in pure pleasure had your insides twisting until you felt the dam burst for the second time that night. You found her lips again as you felt her too reach her release soon after, panting between kisses and cursing. Her movements slowed, as did your own until you were faced with the task of untangling from one another. “Guess we were pretty worked up, huh?” She asks and you nod in agreement, “You still have another round left in you? Pizza guy won’t be here for another twenty minutes…”

You were exhausted, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath but you still managed to stifle out another “Yes, please.” You couldn’t get enough of them and you were dying to have them both at once. You felt more than just lust for these two. They made you feel loved, feel safe. All three of you had issues with connecting to people, whether it was simple distrust or even trauma but you were lucky enough to find one another. All the time spent with them trying to take down the Syndicate made Loba and Crypto learn to trust other people again. Not only that, they learned to care for you and in-turn allowed you to care for them. And being cared for wasn’t something either of them imagined would happen any time soon. Your tenderness and love made them feel human again like they were more than just their past.

“What do you think? Up for round three?” You looked to Taejoon and saw him sitting where Loba had been. When he moved one of his hands away from his lap to smooth his hair back from his face, you saw his cock was already erect again.

His chest heaved. “Are you sure you can take any more,애인(lover)?” Sitting up on your elbows now you looked at him and then to Loba who lay beside you, trailing her smooth fingertips up and down your arms. Excitement bubbled within you again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

They were both beside you in an instant. You weren’t sure who was touching where and frankly you couldn’t care less. Feeling both their bodies on yours at once felt amazing, your skin tingling all over as you knelt sandwiched between them. Despite your oversensitivity, you welcomed the metallic fingertips that found your folds again. You were so, helplessly wet. Your multiple releases, coupled with Loba and Crypto’s had your thighs and sheets a mess. The cold metal of Crypto’s fingers were a wonderful contrast to the warmth of your pussy as he trailed along, up and down your lips, purposely avoiding where you wanted him to touch.

He left your lips in favour of hooking a finger inside you again. The friction was welcome but it wasn’t enough. “Please!” You whimpered and you heard Loba chuckle.

“Oh, baby girl, are you eager for his cock again? It’s a shame we aren’t at my place, you could’ve had mine as well.” Crypto raised a brow at that. You just whined at the thought of Loba’s strap.

He hummed as he found your clit with his thumb as he continued to draw his finger in and out of you. “Crypto, please!”

“I think you should tell him what you want him to do, sweetheart.”

“Please fuck me. I-I need-” You cut yourself off with a moan of his name and Crypto thought he might just die. He leant down to kiss your lips, rougher than usual now but still gentle. When he pulled back from you and gave you a chance to lay back, he had his dick in his hand and took his sweet time coating the tip in your juices, slowly dragging it through your folds.

“Ready for me?” he asked and you nodded. He tugged your knees around his hips and he leant between your legs and slowly entered you, inch by inch until you felt that wonderful fullness again. He let out a shaky breath and a gasp as he entered you. You felt so warm, so soft and so unmistakably you that he had a hard time moving for a moment for fear he might lose composure too soon and leave you disappointed for a second time. When you gave him the okay to move, Loba began teasing your breasts again, but you had other ideas for her.

“Sit-” A particularly drawn-out thrust from Crypto had your words misforming, “-On my face?” you asked her. Seeing as how Loba hadn’t garnered all that much from tonight’s proceedings, you were eager to make her feel good.

Her lips twisted into a smirk as she drew back from your chest, “Oh, sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.” Crypto slowed his movements to let you two get comfortable. Loba now knelt beside your head, swung one leg over your head as you lay flat upon the bed so she now kneeled directly above you. It was the perfect access point. None of the pressure was on you, only what you wanted there to be.

Pulling her down by the hips until her core ghosted so close to your lips that your exhale made her shiver, you made sure you had a good enough grip on her even if all her weight was on your mattress. Crypto took Loba’s chin aiming for the heavens as his queue that you were comfortable again and started back at a slow pace. He always liked to alternate between almost teasingly slow, slow enough that you got needy when he pulled fully out of you, before you the exact pace that you needed from him.

Loba tried not to grind against your face but your actions did nothing to deter her from it. She was extremely responsive to any stimulation she received and your tongue was right up there as one of her favourite ways to be pleasured. Your strokes were careful, teasing and just how she liked it. Although your body jerked forward with each thrust from Crypto, Loba didn’t seem to mind and simply rocked her hips along your face in time with his movements. Each time he pulled back out of you only to fully sheath himself inside you again, a small gasp or moan escaped you. The vibrations just made Loba’s experience even better, small rhythmic cries falling from her lips.

When you felt Crypto’s fingers on your mound again, you had to lift Loba off you slightly to breathe. He always knew exactly where and how to touch you and even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear his soft laugh at the sound you made when he circled your clit. The feeling of being filled over and over by his thick member was divine in and of itself, his girth allowed him to rub your walls with ease especially at the angle he had you in now. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he kept your lower half-raised slightly off the bed. But combined with his hands? It was difficult to concentrate on anything but.

The more you got distracted by Crypto, the needier Loba became, jerking her hips in tiny thrusts to enable some kind of friction. Your fingers dimpled the backs of her thighs to keep her in place as you tried to make up for your few distracted moments. She was getting close now, you could feel it. The poor woman wasn’t used to actually being on the receiving end of such things until she met you.

“I think I’m going to come,” Crypto said with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a barely spoken curse.

“Me too.” She whined, “Pick up the pace, Hacker.” She leant back on her heels to the point where she was nearly sitting on your chest now, a hand in your hair and the other keeping herself steady. Unable to tear her eyes away from your face as you worked on her, an intense ripple of pleasure rushed through her when your eyes met hers. As you tugged her clit back between your lips and sucked all whilst flicking it with your tongue over and over, she was done for. Her head dropped back and her hands now gripped your head with all her desperate strength as she cried a far louder noise than you had ever heard from her before. Her release fell from her entrance right onto your wait tongue, making sure to keep up the intensity until you felt her body relax within your arms.

“Shit!” Crypto cursed and you felt his cock again twitch within you as Loba rolled off to your side, “Are you close?” He asked, voice strained and breathless.

“Yes!” Now that Loba was off of you, you were free to reach forward and cling to him, nails digging into the back of his shoulders and dragging him back down onto the bed with you. With the new angle, his cock hit right where you needed it, the tip brushing over your g-spot over and over as his hand continued to work on your clit. You were almost there now, he could feel it. You felt so good, clenching and releasing around him as a new rush of moisture left you. Loba decided at that moment that sucking one of your nipples into her mouth was a good idea. Suffice to say: It was and it very nearly finished you off. You looked up at them above you, their focus solely on you as they worked and shaped your flesh to bring you the most pleasure they could.

It was only when Crypto leaned in to kiss you that you finally came for the third time that night. Neither he nor Loba ceased their efforts until your orgasm fully ceased. Wave upon wave of glorious pleasure washed over you. Your release was enough for Crypto to come again too, his face buried in your neck as he whimpered. Your oversensitive walls welcomed the sensation of him filling you again.

Loba collapsed at your side and Crypto basically flattened out on top of you before realising that maybe wasn’t the best idea and rolling off of you. Their hands were still on you. Gentle, loving caresses as you caught your breath and fully came down from your high. Your skin still pleasantly tingled from their touch, small shivers still coursing through from your orgasm. All three of you were spent and thoroughly satisfied.

Your muscles still felt soft but you knew you would be sore in the morning. All you wanted to do right now was to lay with them. Feel their arms around you and them in yours. Have Loba hold you from behind whilst Crypto buried his face in your shoulder and clung to you like a Koala bear. You just wanted to drift off in their arms.

But then the doorbell decided it was going to ring.

Crypto moved to get it but Loba stopped him. “No no no, you go to the bathroom. I’ll get it.” Before pulling Crypto’s shirt over her head again and attempting to fix her hair, she covered you with your sheets, a wad of cash in her hand ready for the delivery driver. She looked adorable in such a long t-shirt, so long it came to her mid-thighs. A plain black t-shirt with no shape and clearly sex-tousled hair yet she still looked like she belonged in a magazine.

“Pizza’s finally here!” She exclaimed, kicking the door shut behind her, a large flat box in her hand. Her other hand was empty and the massive bundle of cash was nowhere to be found.

“How much was the pizza, Loba?”

She shrugged as she set the box down atop your covers, “No idea, you know I like to tip big!” Crypto returned from the bathroom, wearing only his pair of sweatpants you had given Loba earlier, “Off you go, your turn.” She nodded towards the bathroom. She was very responsible when it came to after sex. As much as you wanted to sleep afterwards, she was always adamant you go clean yourself up first. It was one of her rare ways of showing how much she cared.

When you were finished, you toddled out of the bathroom and back towards your bed, feeling decidedly underdressed before Taejoon noticed you rummaging for something comfortable and tossed you the very shirt he was wearing that day, with a smile. That left none for him but he didn’t seem to mind. As you pulled the fabric over your head, you couldn’t help but inhale his scent that lingered.

The three of you sat on your bed in relative silence, eating the lukewarm pizza until your hunger ceased. For once, Crypto was the first to interrupt the silence when he left the bed to check up on the decryption status, “Another nine hours until the decryption is complete”.

Loba yawned, both from tiredness and at the thought of waiting nine hours for anything, “Well, in that case, we had better get comfortable.” She took the empty pizza box from your bed and discarded it by your desk.

After gathering up all the courage your tired brain could muster, “So… what do you say you guys both sleep here tonight?” You asked. Crypto was already stretched out at your back, his arms wrapping around you and his warmth seeping into you when he said, “No, I think we should awkwardly go back to our own rooms and talk in the morning.” You scoffed, knowing he was joking, he took every given opportunity to have you in his arms.

Loba stood at the edge of your bed like she was actually considering what he said to be something other than sarcasm. She rarely stayed with you after sex. Even in her own apartment, she would place a kiss on your temple then leave no doubt to pull some kind of heist. It was almost like she was afraid to get too attached to you like someone might take her from you as well as everyone else she had ever loved. But now, as she looked at you, your eyes all soft all and pleading, she thought back to only a few hours ago in the medbay when you fretted over Crypto and had told her you would do the same for her. She realised she could more than just meaningless material things and vengeance. She finally felt like she deserved more.

She sighed, “Well, alright. Not like I’m doing anything else tonight.” And so she clambered beneath the covers and into your open arms. “Have we done enough to satisfy?” She asked and you couldn’t help but laugh. Your legs were already beginning to ache and your entire body felt like each nerve ending and been caressed.

“Just being able to spend time with you both is already enough,” Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You felt Crypto place a kiss on the top of your head as he allowed himself to relax a little more, his body near-painted onto the back of yours, “But yes, thoroughly. You’re both so wonderful that I never really thought to stop and wonder what it would be like to have you together and it was better than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Oh sweetheart, you do so much more for us than we could ever hope to repay.” She pecked your check.

“More than we deserve.”

“That’s not true, Ta-” you cut yourself off, “That’s not true. You shouldn’t have to worry about the Syndicate or Revenant trying to take you out every ten minutes. You deserve to be happy and safe a-and loved. As long as I’m around, I’ll do my best to make sure you feel that way. Because I know that’s not something neither of you have had in a very long time.”

Taejoon tightened his arms around you, holding you closer to his chest. He placed one hand over yours as you rested it on Loba’s side, his fingers interlocking with yours. That meant so much more to him than he would ever let on in front of Loba. Meanwhile, you could see the water pooling in the corners of her eyes as she looked at you so endearingly. She brought her lips to yours for a moment, in the softest kiss you’d ever felt from her before she nuzzled her nose into your cheek.

Sandwiched between them in a mess of warm and tangled limbs, you felt safe and for once,  they did too. Loba was the first to drift off to sleep, her grip on you going lax as her breath evened. You felt Crypto shift behind you slightly, his arm beneath you no doubt beginning to go numb.

“It’s alright, you can rest. We’ll still be here when you wake up.” He whispered, voice as soft as he could make it.

And so you did. With Loba sound asleep in your arms and Taejoon wrapping you up in his, you let your tired limbs melt into the soft mattress below and your heavy eyelids close for the night.

Tagging (Thank you for liking/ rbing that post to be tagged :D ): @kumiakum @dragon-chica @lonelyintheclub @wintergirlsoilder2 @itsthedoctah10 @quinn-lee @askloba @julestheengineer1 @smolminimonnie @peachymochimochi @korean-crypted-trash @speakinjapanese @lilacburned​  @bring-me-the-videogames​ (If you’d like to be untagged, please let me know!)

“Someone Like You” Ch. 3

Kid!Dean, Kid!Reader, Kid!Sam, John, OC (Max)

Warnings: cute and fluff

Word Count: 1463

SOMEONE LIKE YOU MASTERLIST

Summary: this is the story of Dean, Sam and Y/N. As they grew, a friendship as children would bloom into something that would last a lifetime. But, its Dean who realized things can get confusing when you’re in love with your best friend.

4th of July, 1996

The warm July air was the last thing on Dean’s mind as he mindlessly paced in front of Bobby’s house. He looked down at his watch to check the time while his leg bounced with nerves. Anxiously, he played with his knuckles, popping them where he could and fidgeting. He was nervous but it was the excitement that made him almost nauseous.

The time between visits had grown longer but there wasn’t a single day that Dean didn’t think of her. There was no denying that she was something special to him.

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna barf,” Sam snarked from off to the side.

“Nobody asked you.”

“It’s just Y/N, calm down. Geez.”

Dean looked down at him, annoyed. “Do you ever shut up?”

“You ever gonna tell Y/N you’re in love with her?” the younger brother retorted.

“What?” Dean asked, trying to act shocked by Sam’s implications. “I’m not in love with her.”

“Sure, Dean. I’m thirteen...not stupid.”

Just then, they could hear a car engine in the distance. Dean immediately looked in its direction and waited on edge. The dust kicked up in the lot as a familiar old Ford drove in. 

If Dean didn’t look like he was going to be sick before, he did then.

The car came to a stop and the passenger door flew open. Y/N got out and looked to the boys as she smiled from ear to ear. “Dean!” she practically squealed as she sprinted toward him.

His smile matched hers and his heart leapt with joy as he caught her in his arms, spinning her around in a tight embrace. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of her hair. It was like he could finally breathe again.  

“I missed you so much,” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder.

Dean reluctantly put her down with his hands still on her waist. When a stray hair blew across her face, he tucked it behind her ear. “Ten months is too long, Y/N/N.” The butterflies she always gave him fluttered out of control in his stomach and he swallowed hard. “You look amazing.”

Beaming from ear to ear, she replied, “you too.” Sam cleared his throat from nearby and Y/N turned in his direction. “Sam…” Her arms were stretched wide as she wrapped them around the younger Winchester. “God, you’re getting tall.”

“It’s so good to see you,” Sam said with a happy smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Y/N bobbed her head from side to side. “Well--I mean, good as I can be.”

Max came up from behind after finally catching up with his daughter. “Good to see you, boys.”

“You too, sir,” Sam and Dean answered in unison.

“So, John and I are gonna be heading out tonight. You kids wanna come with?”

All Dean wanted was time alone with Y/N. There was no way he was going to get that on the road with their dads. “Uh--I don’t know. I mean, Sammy’s been a little under the weather. He probably needs the rest.”

Sam’s face scrunched in confusion. “What? I’m fine--”

Laughing nervously, Dean interrupted Sam and playfully pulled him in close. “Such a trooper. But, still...why don’t you and dad go ahead. And, Y/N you--you’re welcome to stay with us. Bobby would be totally cool with it. I mean--if you want. You don’t have to…” realizing he was fumbling over his words, he stopped talking.

Y/N chuckled. “Ya know, I could use a weekend off. We’ll find something to do tonight.”

“Absolutely,” Dean smiled awkwardly. “I got some ideas.”

“Can’t wait.” With one last teasing smile, she spun around and ran back to the car to get her things.

Max nodded to the boys with a smile before following his daughter to the truck.

Watching her every move, Dean sighed being completely intoxicated by her and already longing to have her back in his arms. He was completely under her spell.

Sam laughed under his breath. “Smooth,” he teased.

Dean scoffed as he shoved his brother’s shoulder. “...shut up.”

------

That night, Dean snuck into the library to the couch Y/N had fallen asleep on. She looked so peaceful and beautiful that he almost didn’t have the heart to wake her.

There was movement upstairs and the sound was enough to stir Y/N from her sleep. She groaned softly as her eyes fluttered open. “Dean…?”

Putting a finger to his smiling lips he hushed her while offering his hand. When she took it, he helped her to stand. “Get your shoes.”

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“I need your help with something. You up for a little adventure?”

Beaming, she answered, “always.” She smiled as Dean leaned in to whisper in her ear. When he pulled away she nodded enthusiastically. “I’m in.”

Sam came down the stairs and put his hands up in confusion. “Dean, what’s going--”

“Shhh!” Dean and Y/N hushed. They motioned for him to come down and Dean slowly opened the front screen door.

A booming voice came from behind them and they all froze. “I may be old, but I ain’t that old. And where the hell might you three be going?”

Sam, Y/N, and Dean spun around with guilty looks on their faces as Bobby stared them down with sleepy eyes. 

“Uh--we were--just...gonna go for a walk.”

Bobby scrunched his brow. “It’s 11:30 at night, dumbass. So, keep it down. There are people trying to get some damn sleep around here.” He turned away to head back upstairs.

“Sorry, Bobby…” Y/N whispered up the stairs.

“Yeah...yeah…”

Dean laughed silently as he lead Sam and Y/N out onto the porch and into the night.

------

After retrieving a box Dean had hidden near Bobby’s house, he and the others made their way into the woods. Twigs and earth crunched beneath their feet as they walked through the darkness.

“You gonna tell us where we’re going?” Sam asked.

Dean smiled as Y/N hooked her arm into his. “You’ll see.”

When they found a large fielded clearing, Dean opened the box. Sam’s face was practically glowing with joy when he looking inside to find a cash of fireworks.

“You got fireworks?!” he asked gleefully.

“Figured we’d have some fun for a change.”

Sam grabbed the sticks and turned back to Dean. “Got your lighter?” The older brother flicked his silver lighter open as Sam brought the fireworks over holding them out. “Fire ‘em up.”

Each of the hunters lit the fuse and held their stick into the air. The sizzling fuses burned bright as sparks flew, the three waiting with eager anticipation.

One after another, the rockets shot into the sky with a squeal. They exploded in the air into bright beautiful colors as they thundered and lit up the skies. Sam, Dean, and Y/N’s faces glowed in the light as they watched in amazement.

After it had all died down, Sam looked up at Dean and smiled. “Dad would have never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This was great.” Immediately, Sam wrapped his arms around his big brother and held him in a tight and grateful embrace. It was the first time in a longer than he could remember that Sam got to experience something that brought him real joy. Ask him today and he’ll say it’s one of the best memories he has of his childhood. 

Sam let go and rushed back to the box with Dean’s lighter in hand before lighting up a row of fireworks. Running back to the others he yelled, “fire in the hole!”

Smoke erupted from the canisters followed by bright lights. The fireworks shot into the air and rapidly fired. One after another, they crashed into the night. The array of colors and wonder had the three in awe. They all beamed from ear to ear forgetting about everything else.

An ecstatic Sam ran into the field as the rockets shot around him. He laughed as he practically danced under the lights, his fists up triumphantly as he cheered.

“You’re a good big brother,” Y/N told him sweetly.

As he watched Sam in the light, Dean smirked happily. “The kid deserves better.”

Dean’s attention left the skies and he slowly took Y/N’s hand take his. Their fingers intertwined and the two looked down at their touch. They shared a loving look that neither could understand. All they knew was that time had stopped in that field as sparks flew.

The two soaked it all in as Sam lost himself in a moment of pure bliss. They already knew they would remember that night in the field for the rest of their lives. No matter what could happen or where life would lead them, they would always have that warm July sky.

------

Chapter 4

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my short story start

In my mother’s home, there was a painting. A lovely painting, if somewhat amateur. And on the canvas displayed a unicorn, with pale, shining ivory skin that seemed to glow against the mossy greens and shadowed trees in the background. It had lacy chin hair like a goat, but a curly and long mane much like a horse. 

As a child, I remember playing with my train sets and old toy cars under that painting. I remember the late summer breeze that would flow into the house and the creaking wooden halls that would shutter under my every move. That painting was something magical to me, something to be stared at and admired, but never questioned, or even acknowledged when talking to my mother. 

It was as if, if I said a word about it, it would disappear. Cease to exist, and remain like a ghost in the echoes of my memory forevermore. 

My mother died when I was four years old. And I was taken to live with my grandmother, a cruel woman who lived in Philadelphia. That house in England was stolen from me, ripped from my childish hands and I was never given a single say. That old shivering blue house, which I remember so clearly, a stranger. And just as I feared, the painting was lost to me. 

Even now, as I wait here for Amelie’s funeral to end, I remember such things. 

My cousin beside me weeps, her blonde curly hair dull and flat and she wipes her eyes and sniffs to hold back sobs. And I think of my childhood home. I think of the swingset behind the house, which my mother would sit on those days she felt so melancholic. 

The casket begins to lower in the frosty ground. Jamie clings to my arm as she scrapes away her tears. “This is so sad,” is all she can whisper. 

“Do you want to go out to eat after this?” I begin to slowly lead her away. We’ve had enough of this by now. I look up to give a wave to my Aunt Regina, with her hands on her youngest son’s shoulders as he, puffy-faced and red, put on a tough face. She nods, her face tired and grey. 

“Yeah. Maybe pizza or something.” She gives out one last long, shaky sigh. “God. Isn’t this sad?” 

“It is.” Snow crunches under my stiff black shoes. It had nearly been a blizzard the night before. Of course, we couldn’t cancel. Not often do you have your funeral on your birthday. “Pizza sounds good.”

As Jamie closes the passenger door, I hear my name being shouted. I turn, and I see my cousin. 

“August, please wait a minute.” The chubby young man takes a few sharp breaths as he stomps over a pile of snow. “Will you?”

I dig a cigarette out of my pocket. “Of course.” Jamie taps on the window, and she and Cousin Ian exchange a shy wave. 

“Who’s she?” He digs something out of his coat pocket as I set a light. “She’s pretty. Girlfriend?”

“She’s your cousin.” 

He pauses to awkwardly blink for a few seconds, I take a puff, and he cheekily elbows me in the side. “Aw, shut up. Whatever, we’ve got a big family.”

I roll my eyes only to have a paper pointed at me. 

I look to Ian to see his expression darkened. “This is a letter that Amelie wanted to give you before she died,” he says as I take the envelope. I flip it over to see the thin, cursive letters spelling out my name. “Um, she didn’t. But I was the one to find it, so I felt like I had to be the one to get it to you.” 

Something in me hardens. “Thanks, Ian.” We give each other a pat, a goodbye, and turn away. 

“Was that Ian?” Jamie asks as I sit down. Her eyebrows are stitched together, and she’s staring at the envelope. 

“Shit, it’s cold in here.” I jam the key in place and the old vehicle seizures into life. “And yeah.” 

“Oh.” She fixes her blotchy eye makeup in the rearview mirror, and without looking at me continues, “It’s weird seeing him. He was like, a baby last time I saw him.”

“That’s funny.” But I’m not smiling. No, I don’t feel much of anything as I tear the envelope open. It’s scary, in a small way. Amelie was my grandmother, the woman who tormented me for years. The rigid bitch who fucked me up to the point the minute I turned thirteen I ran away to France to live with my mother’s sister, my Aunt Regina. The same woman who raised Jamie, despite her not being either of our mother’s. 

A hand touches mine. “Are you nervous?” Jamie’s eyes melt into mine. I must shield myself. The only person to ever make me cry was Jamie, and I know just looking at her, naked like this-

I wave it away. “No.”

I open it, and with one hand on my shoulder, Jamie reads:

August,

I have been meaning to speak to you for about one year now. I have come to regret some things with how you were raised under me. But what I regret most is not understanding you and not letting you understand me. Your mother was a bad daughter to put it kindly. You have been left in the dark by both she and I and I think, since you are now 22, you deserve the truth. However, a letter could not deliver the truth in a way that would make you understand. 

Your father was a shameful excuse for a man. He was a horror to know, and when he abandoned Grace I told her I would be there for her, though she would be required to live under my rules. Not only did she not listen, but she deiced to cut all communication off from not only me but everyone in the family. It was a very painful time for me and I became bitter. 

Grace met your father through a group of unruly young artist-type people, most of which were political radicals. The whereabouts of your father are unknown to me, however I do have the address, and only the address, of your mother and father’s mutual friend named Samuel Blau. 

August, I have reason to believe that your father was involved in some sort of grand theft. Find the painting. 

-Amelie

Snow falls softly around the car. My fingers are numb. And Jamie begins to cry. Of course that old witch would do this. She did it when she was alive. 

I flick on the radio. “Let’s get going, now.”

Dear Momma,

1,700 days. 1,700 days since we last spoke. 2,068 days since I hugged you for the very last time. Me shaking with excitement and anxiety. Your face wet with the quiet tears that you smiled through. Would I have wanted to know that was the last time I'd ever see you as I crossed through airport security? I don't know. My life might be very different if I had. 2,068 days. It’s felt like a lifetime. I no longer count years by the calendar months. My years begin and end with you. We’re 8 months into year five and this one has definitely been the hardest one yet. So much has happened that you should have been here for. I can’t help but picture how different this year could have been if we didn’t have to do it without you.

The language surrounding death has always been interesting to me. People like to explain what happened without ever saying the word dead. As though not naming it gives it less emotional weight. I don’t like the term passed away. It’s based on the idea of moving to another life, but I have no proof of that. How do I know if you’ve “passed over?” Referring to death as a loss is even worse. There are definitely losses within grief. Conversations about loss and grief are often very helpful and fulfilling. But you are not lost. I know exactly where you are. You’re at home in Arcata, and you’re with your parents and brother in Connecticut. A little bit of you is here in Portland with me. There’s some of you with your favorite author, George Elliot, and a bit of you in Italy. In the place I wanted to show you, where we always talked about visiting together. The tiny town where I fell in love with myself and my life. Before it all came crashing down a year later.

I’ve never been one to look forward to summer. I don’t like warm weather. But this year I’ve found myself holding my breath as the warm days start to stack up.  Beyond excited for the sunshine and the fun it brought with it. Only now am I realizing that what I’m looking forward to is sitting on pink painted lawn furniture, sipping sangria and laughing too loudly amongst mosquitos as the stars start to twinkle. I’m not craving sunshine, summer, and carefree days. I’m craving you. I want to see you in the front yard that half of the town was always envious of, in ripped gardening pants and a paint stained shirt with those god awful pink rubber shoes. Your cheeks scattered with more freckles than ever, your eyes a deeper clear blue than the rest of the year. Summer also means the end of spring, and spring has been rough this year. It always is now. Between my birthday and mothers day, I spend a good month and a half grumpy. This year was worse though. Mother daughter duos were out with a vengeance. At brunch and walking around farmers markets. Perusing bookstores and singing in cars. Every single pair felt like a stab to the chest. As if the world was doing it intentionally. The only purpose of their outings was for me to see.

I’m still so angry Momma. Not at you. But at the same time very much at you. This is not the life I want. Everything got flipped upside-down when you died, and I don’t know how I’ll ever get past that. Everything I’m supposed to be looking forward to at 23, everything I used to be excited for, I don’t want any part of anymore. Anger is supposed to be step two of the 5. Not that I give Kubler-Ross and the stages any credit, but doesn’t it seem like a bad sign for me if after three and a half years I’m still firmly rooted in step two? Forevermore angry, that’s me.

You once wrote- “Sometimes I catch a glimpse of who my daughter is becoming, and my jaw drops. Wow. They came out of your body, you may spend a lot of time and sweat thinking and worrying about shaping them, but in the end they are as far beyond you as the stars.”

I wonder if you’d still feel this way if you knew me now. Who I am now is a completely different person to the girl you wrote about. I feel filled with more pessimism than optimism. My drive and decisiveness missing. Encased in fear. Unable to open up or form meaningful connections with most new people. No longer the trusting social butterfly you always admired. I feel weathered and tired. Unable to ever truly enjoy anything because I’m always all too aware of how much better it would be if I could share it with you.

We talked about forgetting in group recently. For the past few years not remembering has been a saving grace, something I’ve had to put effort into. But as we discussed it I realized I am losing things. It takes some work to recall certain details about you because I’ve locked them away for so long. In the week after that meeting, the memories came flooding back. And I’ve welcomed them. My favorite is one that is so clear in my mind I can shut my eyes and really be there. It’s the summer before I left, in the evening. We’re driving back from Eureka, most likely after Target. I’m behind the wheel, and it’s just you and me. I don’t remember what we’re talking about but I do an impression of dad when he’s irritated or frustrated with something. You throw your head back and laugh, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth wide open and smiling. Then, you turn to me and say, “Madeleine Rose, you are my favorite person to talk and laugh with, do you know that?” I can see you smiling at me, the image of the sun setting over the bay reflected in your eyes, your face flickering with the light shining through the eucalyptus trees lining 101. Your freckles and laughter lines are so clear, I can see the tiny build up of dried tears in the outer corner of your eye that you somehow always had.

That day feels like it never happened. A figment of my imagination. That whole summer- the months before I left- are hard to remember. Legitimately difficult to recall because of the giant walls I've put up as protection. But now that I am three and a half years away from you, three and a half years since you ceased to exist, I find myself looking for those memories. Searching for some sort of reminder of how your voice sounded, what you smelled like, and how it felt when you brushed your fingers through my hair.

https://www.hafoundation.org/labanca

How I’m Doing

Lee Taeyong

*gif credits to owner

*based on the song, how’m doing, by eric nam.

Taeyong woke up from the birds chirping outside the apartment window, he always felt at peace whenever he woke up in your home, instead of the cold grey walls of his dorm room, he woke up to your bookshelf on the corner, photos of the two of you hung on the wall in perfect order as he did it himself, your plushies on his side, the fur of one of them tickling his arm. He leans back on the bed, taking in the serendipity of the atmosphere of your home. He reaches a hand out to brush back your hair from your delicate face, the ray of sun shining down on you making you look like a goddess, his very own Aphrodite.

Taeyong snuggles close to you, arms and legs draping over your rather smaller frame, fitting like a missing puzzle piece. He realises that the two of you nearly been together for five years now, oh how time flies whenever he’s happy, there’s many things he’s grateful for these past five years, his members, the staff, and most importantly, you.

You were there when Nct 127 won their first major award, celebrating like teenagers, the sun quickly reaching its horizon, the Taeyong then didn’t think as deeply about you, given the two of you just met, but he adores how you were as happy as him, even if it’s his award.

You were there when he overworked himself, working on tracks for nct as well as superm till late at night in the studio. His heart aches whenever he comes home to see you fast asleep on the couch with the tv still playing old reruns, at moments like those, he’s sorry for being so distracted by his job, neglecting your love and dedication towards him. Every single time that happens, he would carry you into bed, with the promise that he’ll be a better boyfriend.

Taeyong knows how fast you fell for him, given he was your first love. Although he was your first, you never failed to put him first for everything, taking care of him when he’s injured or sick. He know it isn’t easy being with him, and he knows that at times, it hurts you. So he tries to change, be mindful of his schedule, making time for you, caring for you when you need him.

Taeyong feels an immense amount of guilt when he doesn’t make it for you, when he has to cancel dates, when he has to hide you from the public eye, fearing for your personal safety, but he’s most guilty when he found out that ever since he had haters bashing on him, you’d be there to comfort him, you’d be the one who stays up till late at night to write emails to his own company to take action, you’d be the one who calls his manager to provide the boys more bodyguards, you’d be the one creating anonymous accounts just to clap back at those people who were hating on him. No matter how many times he gets caught up in rumours, you’d be there to fight for him.

Taeyong hopes he’s doing better, every hour, every minute, every second, as a lover you deserve. If Taeyong could, he’d give the world to you, just to see your precious smile.

Taeyong wonders how he’s doing. Is he giving you enough love? Is he neglecting you in any sort of way? Is he showing you enough attention and affection? Should he buy you more clothes? or bags? or shoes? Did the songs he wrote based on really you justified his love for you?

Taeyong wants to be the man you need, as selfish as that sounds. He wants to keep you next to him for as long as you’ll allow him, wishing and praying day and night you’ll be the one who grows old with him.  He knows he’s a busy man because of his job, but he wants to be the one you call for anything at all. He wants to be your forevermore.

Then He Kissed Me (Reggie Kray/Reader)

word count: 1.9k rating: T inspiration: then he kissed me by the crystals

“Mr. Kray,” you mused from behind the bar counter as Reggie Kray walked into the bar. You were all dolled up with your nails freshly painted an almost tacky orange. It matched the tights you had decided to wear with your skirt, but nobody could see them anyhow.

“Ms. (Y/N),” he greeted. “All right?” Reginald asked as he took a seat at his usual corner on the bar. You reached behind you and got a glass down, eyeing him out of the corner of your vision.

“Quite well, today. It's been slow. Only two guys got pissed until they couldn't tell their thumb from their arse.” Your laugh always caught Reggie’s attention; it was infectious. “What'll you be ‘avin today, Mr. Kray? Scotch neat or on the rocks?” With the weather outside, you were sure that he would be having the amber drink on ice, but he surprised you by replying with a “Neat will be just right, darl’.” Your head slowly nodded as you set the glass down, grabbing his favorite scotch and pouring it into the glass and setting it down in front of him.

“No Ron with you today, hm?” Reggie shook his head, tilting his head back and getting a good amount of the alcohol down.

“No. He's off doing his work. I swear, if we hadn't come from the same mother, I'd give him a proper fight myself.” He harrumphed and looked up at you, leaned over with your hands on the counter, watching him with a raised eyebrow. When he set his glass back down, you filled it up without him even needing to ask. You knew his patterns all too well.

“It's a little early for you to be drinkin’ like you normally do, innit?” The glare he shot at you with his blue eyes had you silenced, your hazel eyes narrowed as you suppressed your thoughts. If he was drinking and in a bad mood, it was best you didn't test him. Even though he claimed that he liked the way you didn't respond like every other woman to him, there were days where he just needed silence. “Right, well, I'm going to switch on the juke and do some writing while I wait for you to finish your drink.” A soft “Mh,” was all that Reggie responded with.

You walked to the other side of the bar and started the tracks up, feeling in the mood for a little bit of The Rolling Stones. Reggie didn't seem to mind, grabbing one of the newspapers as you sat down, getting out a journal and continuing on with your story. Your hand moved slightly as you scribbled down a part of the story about being on a plane crashing with your main characters on it. You allowed yourself to feel the panic the characters felt. It helped you write better, write real reactions. After a few minutes had passed, you looked up. The next song was starting, and yet your sole patron didn't ask for more. Of course, he wasn't even a patron… He was your boss, for all intents and purposes. The purple hue of the sunset spilled into the bar, and you looked down at the glass. Empty.

“You coulda spoken up instead of just staring at me with dead mince pies,” you grumbled as you got up and poured more into his glass. He nodded and you sat back down. You still felt his gaze on your face. You let a few more seconds pass before you looked up again, watching the intense look on Reggie’s face. Under his scrutinizing stare you began to flush, your neck growing hot. It was no lie that Reginald was sought after by a lot of women for good reason; he was one of the best looking men in the East End, even if he was rumored to be dangerous. He shifted and sat back in his chair, reaching into his coat to get a cigarette and lighter out. He lit the stick before you could really even catch it.

You took your journal back out as the song switched to something by Marvin Gaye, but you could never remember the title. As soon as the journal was on the counter, Reggie took out the tobacco from between his lips and cleared his throat. “(Y/N), love, why don't you rattle and’ hum over ‘ere for a second?” You stood from the stool obediently and walked over to Reggie, placing your hands on your hips.

“Yes, Mr. Kray?” You spoke, wondering what he wanted. “You look like you've been trying to figure out somethin’.” It was more of a statement than it was a question or request. You turned your head a bit.

“I… was jus’ wondering why you were staring at me,” you replied truthfully. He laughed at that.

“The expressions you made while writing had me interested in what you were doing. You looked scared, and yet for half of a sec you would be fine. And then back to being terrified. You'd think I was ‘oldin’ a gun to yer head like that.” Your cheeks instantly grew red, and you let out a quieter laugh.

“Oh. That.” Reggie nodded. “It's easier to write if I can slip into the shoes of whoever I'm writing. Y'know?” You smoothed back your hair, the ends still holding the hairspray you had put in it that morning.

“It was just peculiar,” Reggie told you. He paused to take a drag of his cigarette, holding in between his large index finger and thumb. “D'ya want a puff?” As he spoke, smoke spilled from his mouth. You shrugged and reached your hand out to take it from his fingers, ignoring the spark of their skin touching. As you wrapped your lips around the foot, Reggie’s eyes were immediately on your pursed lips, enjoying the look. As soon as your lips were on the stick, you took it back out and exhaled the smoke from your still pursed lips, the cigarette being set on the ashtray. The music was the only thing filling the air for a second before you meekly thanked him.

“Come ‘round here and come sit with me.” The command had you confused. You always stayed behind the counter. Then again, most of the time, other people needed your attention as well. You complied and walked around the bar until you were on the main floor, about to sit down when he spread his legs and patted one thigh. “Don't be afraid, love. I won't bite.” Ever so hesitantly did you comply, awkwardly perching on his right leg. You tried to keep your weight off of him, pulling your skirt down with one hand. Reggie had other plans. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, enjoying the look of surprise written across your features.

“There we are, princess.” You snorted softly. You had heard Reggie use the term to just about everyone but you. You supposed that it would have come anyway. “Comfortable?”

“If your definition of it is hangin’ onto a man for unknown reasons, then yes. Quite.” A grin cracked Reggie’s face, his large lips spreading in an adorable smile.

“Don't be like that. It's just more convenient. You get to sit an’ still talk to me.” You slowly moved your hand to grasp at his jacket for more stability, the music changing in the background. “Well, what is it that you'd like to talk about, Mr. Kray?” You teased softly.

“How about your book, Ms. (Y/N)?” He replied with the playful tone, humoring the pretty thing on his lap. You were different. You actually thought about things.

“A couple whose life has changed due to a bad aeroplane crash. I've just begun writin' it. After my last book… Well, didn't make me much money. No bad reviews, it's just that, y'know, all the telleys are distracting people from the book industry.” The whole time that you talked in such an animated fashion, Reggie couldn't help but chuckle. The way your eyes moved attracted him. You stopped suddenly when you realized he was giving you the look again. You weren't pulling any faces. “Is there something on my face, Reginald?”

“Yeh,” Reggie uttered lowly, raising a hand to your jaw. You were sure nothing was, but he placed his warm thumb against your lower lip, swiping the side against the slightly chapped lip. He kept his thumb there, making you grow warm. “Reggie?” You asked in a quieter voice. You could hear The Crystals in the background. Reggie held your head where it was firmly, biting his lip as you stared up at him. The simple action had you breathing a little less, something tight in your belly as he stared down at you.

“You know, darling, I can have my way with anyone I want.”

“So I've heard,” you responded with just a touch of confusion.

“I'd like to ask you instead of forcing it.” You quirked an eyebrow up with a thick swallow. You hoped he wasn't asking for sex, even if he was attractive. “Ask for what, Mr. Kray?” Reggie’s smirk that followed had your chest give out.

“It'd be fine if I kissed you, yeah?” You stammered at the question. You didn't say no. As soon as you started to utter the beginning of a yes, his lips found yours. The song playing around them was too ironic.

And then he kissed me.

His lips moved off and on your lips, nipping lightly as you kissed back just as hard, pressing your body closer to his so you wouldn't fall. His lips were breathtaking to touch. It sent your brain aflame. It made you drunk. You had never enjoyed a quick kiss quite that much before.

He kissed me in a way that I've never been kissed before.

Reggie let out a grunt of enjoyment, and you went to grab his thin white shirt instead, tilting your head as his tongue pushed against your bottom lip. He tasted like alcohol and his cigarette, with just a hint of toothpaste. It wasn't entirely bad. You had had worse kisses. When he groaned softly you had to pull back, not wanting to take it too far.

He kissed me in a way that I want to be kissed forevermore.

You stood up when you could, cheeks flushed with red and lips kiss-bruised with color. He was in a similar state, though slightly more collected and covering up his inner thigh with his arm. “I should…” You looked over to the window, seeing someone walking closer to the building. “Get back to tha job.” You cleared your throat a little more and walked around the counter again, smoothing your skirt. You could still feel his large hand on the small of your back, your skin warm.

The door jingled as one of his men walked in.

“I suppose I should go round u’ my brother.” Reggie gave another glance to you. “Take it easy, beautiful.”

You licked the last of his saliva off of your lower lip. “Have a good one, Mr. Kray.”

The Gooper Adventures ~ Day 3 ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

PAAARRTTT 3 OF THIS SERIES, LET'S SEE THE NEXT PATIEEEENT WOOHOO LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @thegoodnewsdoctler @erik-lee-derekson and @ericleederekson @doctoripliler

Dr Iplier was a very, very happy man. His coffee machine was working at full capacity, he had no outstanding paperwork to pore over; he also only had one major appointment today which was with one of the sweetest people on the planet, and was with someone who the doctor was very excited to share company with. Iplier grinned when he heard the all too familiar, tentative knock at his door that was accompanied with a faint sniffle and shuffle.

'Come in!'

The doctor smiled fondly when Eric Derekson slowly entered his room, a timid smile on his face as he muttered.

'H-Hey doc, are you having a nice day?'

Iplier grinned and strode forward, engulfing the nervous man in a warm bear hug as he replied happily.

'I most certainly am....and don't tell anyone, but having your appointment today is the main reason!'

Iplier winked at Eric after releasing him from the hug, which made Eric giggle bashfully and mime zipping his lips shut before he skipped to the doctor's medical bench and laid down on it, as per usual. The check-up was of course related to maintenance of Eric's feet prosthetics that started from the bottom of his shins. Google, who developed them, obviously took care of the technical side of everything, whilst Iplier made sure that the real skin in contact with the artificial materials was kept strong with a salve that was applied every month so that Eric's skin layers would be tougher. Eric always enjoyed these appointments since he was basically just getting a massage.

After removing Eric's shoes and socks and rolling up his sweatpants, Iplier started rubbing some of the salve between his hands to warm it up as he grinned at his relaxed little patient.

'Is sir ready for the skin strengthening massage this morning?'

Eric burst into giggles at Iplier's put on posh accent, and nodded giddily as he put on a poncy voice of his own.

'I am indeed ready, and do hurry up I have a brunch appointment that I cannot be late for!'

The doctor gasped dramatically and bowed his head in mock respect of Eric's CLEAR superior station, and started massaging the skin that met with the prosthetic on his left leg.

'Of course sir of course, my apologies for my tardiness.'

Eric giggled happily before relaxing at the soothing treatment. Despite his stumps having healed long ago, it was important for the skin to be strengthened on a regular basis because of something in the prosthetic materials that would weaken his natural skin. Eric never complained because he got a free massage every month, and it always helped him unwind and forget about his anxieties for a little while. Until....this occasion, when a little crash from under Iplier's desk made Eric jump and bolt upright.

'Wh-what was that?!'

Eric looked around, not out of fear, but out of curious confusion. Iplier's office was the one place that had the fewest random, strange occurrences, so this was most irregular. Then he looked curiously to the doctor, since Iplier had sighed and smiled as he wiped his hands on a towel, before looking to the floor near his desk.

'That, was the world's smallest troublemaker.'

Eric furrowed his brows before following the doctor's gaze, and he gasped at the sight that he saw. It was Gooper. Eric had heard about the little creature from the septics but had never actually met him before! At present, Gooper was on the floor next to Iplier's metal, mesh trash can...which had been tipped over. Gooper was engaging in a tug of war, with said trash can, for a paperclip that had gotten caught in the trash can's wire mesh. The little monster was quite annoyed about this, and was letting out a constant stream of growls and snarls as he tugged and tugged at the little piece of stationary. The doctor grinned, and then cleared his throat.

'Uh....bud? Why are you fighting with the trash can?'

Gooper growled even more, not relinquishing the battle as he hopped up and down with clear annoyance; the doctor by this point, had learned to understand Gooper's little language since it was always a combination of sounds and movements. Eric covered his mouth with his hand, giggling as the doctor sighed softly.

'The trash didn't steal your paperclip!'

Iplier stated pointedly, before letting out a little gasp when Gooper's growling got even deeper as he strained to reclaim HIS paperclip.

'Don't you take that tone with me! The trash can is inanimate and the paperclip just got stuck! Ugh, frigging squish....'

Eric kept giggling as Iplier sent him an apologetic look, and he observed curiously as Iplier went and crouched down to Gooper's little scene of attempted conquest. He swiftly unhooked the paperclip from the metal mesh and gave it to Gooper, who let out a quiet little gurgle that served as a thank you, and as an apology for being a grumpy squish. Iplier gave him a little pet before picking him up and taking him to Schneeple's jumper, wherein Gooper swiftly scooted into the bundle to deposit his little treasure. Eric couldn't handle it. He was too cute.

'I-Iplier p-please may I hold him he looks so cute and soft and adorable please please tell me I-I can hold him?!'

....the doctor thought that his heart was legitimately going to melt. He took one look at Eric's puppy dog eyes and hopeful smile, and smiled back.

'Of course you can....hey mr, you wanna meet a sweet friend of mine?'

One soft gurgle later, the little creature emerged from the jumper, and squeed at the sight of the new Iplier person who he hadn't noticed before. He crooned as Iplier scooped him up, and immediately mewled warmly when he was placed in Eric's hands softly; this Iplier's pets were particularly tentative and gentle...Gooper reasoned that this Iplier was absolutely very cute because of how gentle he was.

'H-H-He's s-so p-precious....'

Eric sniffled and stammered happily as he ran his fingertips over the creature carefully, he didn't want to cause him ANY kind of distress. Dr Iplier smiled and decided to stroke Eric's hair softly, because Eric had soft hair so why the hell not. The doctor smiled fondly at Eric's soft sniffles, before grinning and whispering.

'Careful, if he thinks you're upset he'll tickle the hell out of you.'

Eric's cheeks went a soft pink as he giggled, a little shiver going down his spine at the thought of the little creature finding all his tickle spots....but then he remembered, he was a big human! Eric figured that he could keep the upper hand easily, and so he looked up at Iplier and teased back happily.

'N-Not i-if I t-t-tickle him first!'

Iplier let out a soft laugh as he watched Eric carefully scratch Gooper's underbelly....and the doctor did consider warning Eric that there was NO way Gooper would let him get away with that....but this was too cute to hinder. As Gooper squealed and wriggled, the doctor teased softly.

'Wow, you're such a meanie!'

Eric grinned bashfully, but ended up whining to the doctor in an attempt to justify himself.

'B-But he's so cuuute, h-he has goofy baby squeals!'

Gooper, without a doubt, turned a few shades darker of green when he heard the new Iplier blatantly teasing him. That was not fair, he didn't have baby squeals he didn't he didn't! He couldn't help how he sounded! Gooper had never felt more embarrassed in his whole life, and ended up squealing more as he curled up around Eric's tickly fingers. This was so not fair! Meanwhile, Iplier ruffled Eric's hair and gave him a playful nudge, deciding that it was Eric's turn to be on the receiving end of some teasing.

'Oh yeah? How would you like it if someone tickled your tummy and teased about it?'

Eric froze, stopping the tickling, and blushed a bright red as his words failed to come to him. And that....was Gooper's cue to take his revenge. Before Eric could even react or retort to the, now excitedly smirking, doctor, his attention was caught by a certain little squish...letting out quite the battle growl. Gooper scooted faster than he ever had scooted, shooting up Eric's sleeve before dropping down in search of the goldmine that was Eric's tummy. In Gooper's book, gentle people often have sensitive tummies....and as he latched onto Eric's and vibrated his form, he was NOT disappointed.

'EEEHEHEHEE AHAHAHA OHONO-HEHEHEEELP!!'

The doctor stepped back away from Eric, laughing at how he immediately arched his back along with flailing arms and kicking legs. There were no build up giggles or titters, Eric was just straight up consumed by the cutest high-pitched laughter that Dr Iplier ever had heard.

'Hey you started it! Gooper's just getting revenge, fair and square.'

Iplier smirked as he mused, and chuckled softly when Eric sent him a VERY strong pout. Eric couldn't believe that Iplier as just watching him being tickled! No, scratch that, tickle tortured! Gooper was nuzzling and vibrating so deep into Eric's chubby tummy that it felt like Gooper was ticking him from the inside out! Eric couldn't stop squealing as he hit the medical bench with his hands desperately.

'BUHUHUT IHIHI DIHIHIDN'T TIHIHICKLE THIHIS MUHUUUUCH!!'

Eric whined amidst his mirth, but the doctor merely remained an amused observer as he replied frankly.

'That may be, but you did tease him too!'

Eric proceeded to hide his face in his hands as he cackled, predominantly due to the fact that Dr Iplier's words were entirely truthful....he'd started it....so he deserved to be tickled in return. How could he have been so silly to think that this clever, adorable tickle monster wouldn't get revenge on him?! Oh this was such an evil pickle for Eric. For Gooper though, he was having the absolute time of his life. There. Was. So. Much. Tummy. Everywhere around him, it was just tummy, and part of Gooper honestly hoped that he could just live engulfed by this warm softness forevermore....but then he figured it would be a bit TOO mean to tickle the soft Iplier here forever. So, Gooper wriggled down to Eric's waist, nuzzling it happily. Eric, of course, shrieked with a new-found need to justify himself. 

'B-B-BUHUHUHUT HEHEHE'S T-TEHEHEASABLE!'

...yes, that really WAS the best that he could come up with. Eric had rolled onto his side and partially curled himself up, laughing as he twitched and jumped as his waistline was played with. Iplier folded his arms and raised an eyebrow as he looked over the sweet boy, shaking his head as he taunted.

'So are you, tickle boy.'

....Eric had been in the midst of peeking through his fingers to look at the doctor. He aborted that plan, with immediate effect. Eric hid his face in his forearms as he wailed. It wasn't even a detailed tease, and yet it affected him. It wasn't even very personalised, and yet it affected him. Which thus proves how Eric is in fact, incredibly teasable

'NAHAHAHA NAHAHA SHUHUHUSHY!!'

Eric cried out, since Gooper was becoming more and more in earnest as he wriggled over and nuzzled into his waist, the little fibres at his underbelly fluttering and scratching away rapidly as Gooper got more and more excited. And, as you can probably tell, an excited Gooper is a far more evil Gooper, hence the increased rapidity of his tickling. Iplier of course continued in his role of teaser, since it was pretty hard for Gooper to tease AND tickle, so the doctor kept up his assistance. It was only fair.

'Woooow, rude much? Especially since you're the one loudly shrieking, not me!'

Iplier replied to Eric with the utmost indignance, looming over a writhing Eric who simply tried to curl up more because now he was being attacked on two fronts and all he could think to do was to try and hide away. All Eric really ended up doing though was proving Iplier's point....by shrieking.

'IHIHIHI CAHAHAN'T HEHEHELP IHIHIIIIT!!'

Thankfully for Eric though, with his echoing cry, he was granted a tad bit of mercy. Gooper relinquished the torture at his waist and simply rested on it, and gurgled in amusement when he heard the little yips of hiccups come from the gentle Iplier's mouth. That was cute. Hiccupies are cute. Dr Iplier thought this too, and he couldn't keep the fond smile off his face as he looked down at Eric who was hiccupping and giggling residually.

'Poor little Eric.....such a loud little ticklee....'

Eric gazed up at Iplier pleadingly, his eyes begging for mercy from the teasing as his face burned with embarrassment. Eric was trembling and smiling preciously, almost overcome from it all. However, Gooper was not quite yet done. Gooper had spotted the little indents that were the bowels of Eric's hips....and so decided to see what would happen if he nestled into one of them, nuzzling it a little. The results were not disappointing. Eric let out a soft, initial gasp, before descending into a mess of purrs and titters. Gooper had found his melting spots.

'N-N-Nuuuhhuhuhuhehehhh nnnuuhhh.....'

Iplier blinked in confusion for a few moments, hurrying to place his forearm behind Eric's head as it lolled back. The doctor soon understood the situation however, and was just entirely enamoured. Iplier knew that practically everyone had melty areas or spots, but he'd so far been under the impression that Eric was someone who did not have such places. The doctor was so damn pleased to be wrong.

'Awwww what's thiiiis? I think someone has some sweet melty hiiiips....'

The doctor purred as Gooper kept up the gentle rubbing into the soft flesh, relishing in Eric's weak little whimpers and barely coherent slurs of speech.

'Pleheheeee.....nuhuhuhuhhh teheheasssee....'

Hearing the gentle Iplier react like that was beyond sweet, and part of Gooper wondered what would happen if he went for both indents at once, which he easily could by splitting his form. However, he could see that the gentle Iplier was having a very nice time, and after all the tickling he'd done, Gooper wanted to make sure that he didn't go over the top again. So, he carefully moved the bowel of Eric's other hip, giving it the same treatment whilst gurgling sweetly at the doctor Iplier's previous words; these were definitely special me-eelty (?) spots.

'Well I think Gooper agrees with me....'

Gooper let out another little gurgle of confirmation at Iplier's next purr, before merely continuing the treatment that he knew the gentle Iplier was enjoying. And Eric was enjoying it....partially. I mean, he was clinging to the doctor's arms and shoulders by this point as he whimpered and giggled as tickly, warm tingles shot through his meek form. However, that new warmth did help to melt away some of the anxieties and stresses that had built up in his system....so yes, he was definitely enjoying it.

'Mmmnn.....m-meheheaniesss....b-behest meheanihiiiies....'

Eric stammered with a lazy smile, hiding in Iplier's chest and blushing crimson when he felt it quiver with the doctor's amused chuckles. Iplier's heart just swelled at how unbelievably sweet Eric was....if he hadn't been holding Eric to his chest, the doctor might have convinced himself that such sweetness was merely in his imagination. Gooper thought that Eric was sweet too, sweet and gentle and precious and soft and perfect. So he decided to have mercy for real this time. The little creature could feel how the tension had bled away from Eric, so he figured that it was the perfect time to stop, since Eric was in the perfect state of relaxation and un-stressiness. As Eric gasped and shivered, Gooper slid out from under his shirt, resting on Eric's lap. He immediately yipped when he saw both Ipliers in an embrace; the doctor smiled, winking proudly at the creature.

'Good job buddy.'

There were a few moments then where Gooper rested on Eric, and Eric rested on Dr Iplier's chest. Gooper was recovering from all the tickling he'd inflicted, Eric was recovering from all the tickling he'd received, and Dr Iplier was recovering from how much insane cuteness he had perceived. All in all....it had been a lot. Soon though, after making sure Eric was okay, Iplier quickly went back down to his shins to make sure all the salve he'd rubbed in earlier had sunk into the skin properly and evenly. Gooper of course rolled himself down Eric's legs so he could have a look at the special parts that the doctor Iplier had helped put on the gentle Iplier; Gooper knew he couldn't significantly contribute, but gave Eric's shins a little head-butt each of affection to show his love. Eric smiled and gasped softly, tears welling up in his eyes.

'Th-thahank you....b-b-bohoth of you...'

The doctor smiled as he scooped Gooper up into one of his hands, before helping Eric to his feet carefully, whilst teasingly remarking.

'You are most welcome Mr Derekson.'

Iplier spoke airily and poshly as a homage to their earlier conversation, but was surprised to see Eric suddenly blink and become rather bashful. Eric took in some air before speaking, with the most amount of pride that Iplier had ever heard.

'A-Actually....i-it's Mr Iplier now. D-Dark helped me sort it.'

....now Dr Iplier was the one with the tears in his eyes. I don't need to explain why, I think it's pretty clear why this is so damn meaningful. Iplier nodded and brought Eric into a swift hug, making the man giggle happily.

'Mr Eric Iplier....that definitely suits you.'

Eric grinned, still with a strong sense of pride, as they parted. And after giving the happily squeaking Gooper a final pet, he left with his head held high and his strides solid and steady. Before the doctor could weep however, he felt something nuzzling his palm. Iplier grinned when he looked down at a, rather needy, Gooper, whining and head-butting his palm as a cry for attention. Which he certainly deserved, since whenever he administered a great bout of tickling he always needed after-affection to help get his strength back up. Iplier of course complied, stroking Gooper with his fingertips as he sunk into his desk chair. Iplier made a mental note to find some more paperclips.

WOOOO HPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS NEXT PART WOOOOPPP LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOO LUV YOUS XX

Princess prom dress.

Pairing : Dean & sister!Reader, Sam (mentioned)

Word count : 1,158

Written for : @spnfluffbingo​

Square : Prom Dress

Warnings : Prom night, mention of alcohol, Sam's gonna be in shit later, Dean is the best big brother to ever live.

SPN Fluff bingo 2020 Masterlist. || Masterlist.

You sighed, standing in the bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror.

For the first time in a long time, you were somewhere long enough to attend a school event. Prom, no less, and you had been excited. Dresses, shoes, a magical night out feeling and looking like a princess. Looking down now, you were debating not going as Sam banged on the door again.

“I said give me a damn minute!” you yelled. “Not like you really need the bathroom..” you muttered, turning to get a profile view of the only dress you liked that you could afford. Black and white plaid button down dress that hit about mid thigh in the front, and a couple of inches longer in the back. You had ankle boots that could easily chic the look up a bit. And while it was cute, and exactly the kind of thing you’d wear, it screamed more lumberjack’s girlfriend than princess.  Another bang on the door. “What did I just say!?”

“It’s me, sweetheart. Come out here for a minute, I’ve got something for you.”

Figuring Dean was just trying to get you out so Sam could run in, you sighed again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Sure enough, as soon as you stepped out, Sam rushed past, Dean’s best suit in hand and slammed the door prompting you to roll your eyes at your twin. “What’s up, big brother?”

Dean just tilted his head, motioning to the bed. Your duffle bag no longer on it, but in it’s place a long box decorated with the bow you had slapped on his present this past Christmas. He always kept the weirdest things.

Heading over, you took the bow off the box, placing it on your head, knowing the playful gesture would make Dean smile to himself, and started to open the box. “What is this?” you knew, you knew exactly what it was just looking at the colour and material, but you were in shock.

“Take it out and see.”

You looked back at Dean over your shoulder as you took hold of the light blue material and lifted up a dress like nothing you’ve ever seen. Your eyes washed over it, tulle, pearls, flowers, lace, and satin under it all. “Dean, its…” you were in awe of it. “Beautiful. But we can’t afford this.” you looked at him again, confused as to how he got it. “Where did it come from?”

“Don’t worry about.” he smiled softly at you.

“Did you steal it!?” He’d been known to swipe a few things here and there when they were needed and cash was low, but this? “It has to be worth a fortune, Dean, you could go to-”

“I said don’t worry about it.” his smile faded a bit. “Go be a princess, princess.”

“I don’t have anything to go with this…”

“You don’t need jewellery, look at the damn thing.” he teased, motioning to the bodice and the waistline, intricate  designs with flowers and pearls over tulle and lace. “As for shoes, remember the ones you stole, dad lost his shit and told me to return them or toss them, as a punishment.”

“Hunters don’t wear sandals or heels..” you muttered quietly.

“In the car.” he smiled. “Tucked under the passenger side seat.” he smiled as your eyes lit up again. “They’ll go great with it, I already checked.”

“Thank you!” You let the dress fall to the bed as you rushed Dean to hug him. “But don’t ever steal anything this expensive again.” you grumbled at him as you held him extra tight.

“I’ll try.” he sighed. “Now go kick Sammy out of there and get changed. Hurry up.”

Sam had vanished with some girl in some car, and your date took advantage of your twin not being around to whisk you away with friends in search of booze or beers. You were walking on the other side of town towards some house party of a friend’s, when a friend said they were ducking into a store for a case.

You were waiting in the parking lot, heels in your hands and laughing when you turned and looked into the store, smile falling when you saw Dean behind the counter. A job? Dean had a job? When the hell did he have time? He was always either hunting, research, bar or passed out. How was Dean adding a job into that? And why?

Then you looked down at the dress, a dress even with someone else's name on the card, couldn’t be afforded, not with the way you lived. “I uh- I need to go.”

“What? But we-”

“I’m sorry.” you looked up into soft brown eyes and gave him a light smile. “Something’s not sitting well, I think it was the chicken.” you lied.

“I-”

“I’ll be okay.” you reassured. “I’ll call one of my brothers from the payphone and get him to pick me up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Sorry tonight isn’t ending the way you hoped. I’ll owe you one, promise. I had a great time.”

“Me too.” a smile graced his lips. “Call me in the morning?”

“You’ll be asleep.” you teased. “You better be asleep if  you’re partying tonight.”

“Afternoon then?”

“Go party.” you gave him a light shove. “I’ll be okay.”

“But I really think I-”

“Go, before my brother kicks your ass for dragging me to this end of town.” you teased, backing away from them and towards the payphone on the corner.

“Sam ain’t-”

“I’m talking about the older one you haven’t met yet.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.” he let his friends drag him off as the door for the store chimed and cheers erupted at the sight of a case of beer. “Tomorrow.” he called out the promise.

As soon as they were out of sight, you started away from the store and the phone booth, and headed back across town towards the motel you currently called home.

It was late when the door opened, and Dean walked in, tossing his car keys onto the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dean practically jumped, as he looked up to find you standing there, still in the dress, feet bare. “Jesus, princess.” he put a hand to his chest and let out a breath. “What are you doing back so early? Sammy back too? What is wrong with you guys?” he gave you a look, lip half curled up and his nose scrunched.

“Just me.”

“You better have at least been brought home.”

“I’m a big girl, Dean.”

“You’re my baby sister.” he growled. “Gonna kill Sammy for letting you leave by yourself.”

“How long?”

“How long what? Is he going to be dead for? For life.”

“How long have you had the job?” Dean froze. “I saw you in the store.”

“What were you doing down there?”

“Not important.”

“It is fucking important.” Dean snapped. “You shouldn’t have been-”

“Party, Dean. Remember your prom?”

“Didn’t go to mine.” he reminded you.

“Right..” you looked down at your feet. Dean hadn’t had that luxury. “Was on my way to a house party with friends. Sam was already gone with that girl from the swim team he’d asked.” you shrugged. “I saw you and came home. Why do you have a job?”

“Because I got a baby sister who had her heart set on prom.” Dean’s eyes locked with yours. “Been working my ass off all year for it. Every hour I can get, and I hustle pool when I need to so I don’t have to dip into the money I was saving for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that-”

“I did. I saw how you looked at those dresses, the ones you wanted but we could never afford. And then I saw how you looked at that oversized shirt you call a dress.” he motioned to the lump of plaid on the foot of your bed. “You were heart broken. Can’t have that. Can’t have my baby sister heartbroken like that.”

For the second time that evening, you wrapped your arms around your big brother and held on tight. “Thank you.”

“You deserved it, princess.” Dean half whispered as he kissed the side of your head.

“You’re the best big brother, you know that?”

“Wouldn’t mind hearing it more.” he teased with a chuckle.

“I’ll remind you more often.” you promised, giving him an extra squeeze before letting go. “Hey, does dad know? About the job, and-”

Dean shrugged. “Who cares.”

“You will, if he starts yelling.”

“I’d risk it for you.” he smiled. “Seriously though, home already?”

“Yeah.” you laughed. “Had a brother to thank.”

“So I don’t get to punch this guy for defiling my sister, huh?”

“Nope.” you laughed.

“That mean I get to meet him?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll punch him for letting you come home alone. Him and Sammy.” Dean started grumbling again.

“Let Sam get laid, he needs it.” you rolled your eyes.

“Does he fucking ever.” Dean dropped to sit on the foot of the bed and finally start untying his boots. “What does that kid have up his ass?”

“I don’t know, but here’s hoping he found a girl who can get it out.”

“Need a fucking proctologist for that.” Dean said, making you burst out laughing.

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Swan Song: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,139

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Your dad drove here with Castiel, so he took his car back to his house. You offered to be with him, but he wanted to make that drive alone. You were okay with that as long as he promised to be there when you arrived with Dean. This day has been heavy for you, and you don’t think you can say anything that will make anyone feel better. So, instead, you rest your head on the window and stare as the world passes you by.

“What are you gonna do now?” Dean asks the new angel.

“Return to Heaven, I suppose.”

“Heaven?”

“With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there.”

“So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?” Dean asks.

“I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am,” Castiel chuckles.

“Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again,” he scoffs.

“I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return. It just... seems like the right thing to do.”

“Well, if you do see him, you tell him we’re coming for him next.”

“You’re angry,” Castiel sighs.

“No,” you manage to get out. “I’m pissed.”

“He helped. Maybe even more than we realize.”

“That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!” he yells.

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?” he asks.

He lets the question hang in the air, and just disappears. When Dean looks at where he was sitting, he realizes he’s gone. There is nothing you can do or say that will make up for the damage you caused. This was supposed to be your ticket to redemption, and it’s gone. Dean will never forgive you now.

Hopefully getting back on the road and killing some monsters will help. But, without Sam, how is it ever going to be the same?

“I got everything packed and ready to go. I hate leaving you like this. Especially after everything that happened,” you say to your dad.

Everyone arrived back at your dad’s place in one piece. If you’re going to stay alive, then you have to keep going. He understands why you have to leave and hunt, and he’s not stopping you. Dean hasn’t said a word to you since he got back, but you didn’t expect him to. It’s going to take a while before he can fully trust you, and you hope hunting will help.

“Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you call every once in a while.”

“Every day,” you smile and hug your dad.

Dean’s things are in the car, and your stuff is sitting on a nearby table. It’s not a lot of stuff, but then again, you didn’t have much to begin with. You step away to let your dad and Dean say goodbye before approaching the older Winchester.

“Let me get my stuff,” you say, and turn to leave.

“Actually, I think I’m going to leave alone.”

“What?” you ask and turn back around to face him.

“I think it’s time that we go our separate ways.”

“You can’t be serious, Dean,” you glare angrily.

“I just need some space, is all. After everything you did.”

“I am sick and tired of you holding that over my head!” you scream. “I apologize over and over again, and you refuse to even listen! Did you stop to think about how this is affecting me? I made a fucking mistake, and I’m trying to do right by it, but you’re not letting me! How many times can I try to make things right?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Y/N. Sam is gone, and all we ever do is fight!” he yells at you.

“Because you refuse to fucking listen! I’ve put myself in your shoes, Dean! I’ve seen this situation through your eyes plenty of times! You think I betrayed you for killing our child. You think I did it because you think I think of you as a bad dad! We’ve been through a lot, Dean, and you think that because we’ve been through worse together, I can’t possibly use Amara as an excuse.”

“Because it’s fucking true!”

“No it isn’t!” you shriek. “You haven’t once stopped to see this how I see this. You haven’t once put yourself in my shoes! How is that fucking fair to me? I’m trying to work this out, but you’re making it fucking impossible because you have daddy issues and a bruised ego. Well guess what, Dean, get over it!

Dean scoffs with a shake of his head. His stuff is already in the car, and he turns around to get into it. He places his hand on the door handle, but you’re not done.

“Dean, stop! I’m sick and tired of having this fight with you. If you get in that car, we are done! No more fighting, no more hunting together, no communication, and no more us. Do you understand me?” you shout.

It’s not fair to give him this ultimatum, and by the looks of it, he’s seriously contemplating this decision as if you don’t mean the world to him. He keeps his back turned to you with his hand still on the door handle.

Without another word, he wretches the door open and gets in. Your heart breaks when he starts the car, and he doesn’t look back when he drives off. The soothing sound of the Impala is enough to keep you intact, but when you don’t hear or see it anymore, that’s when you break down crying.

You’re finding it hard to breathe, and you run your fingers through your hair to have something to grasp onto when you feel it. You take your hands away from your head to stare at the diamond promise ring Dean gave you last year when you were dealing with the magicians that wanted immortality. You can still remember his words when he gave it to you.

“I was serious when I said this ring would represent my promise to always love you.”

He fucking lied. This ring means nothing to you anymore, so you yank it off your finger and throw it as far as possible from you. Your legs give out from beneath you, and you crumble to the rocky ground. Loud sobs leave your mouth, and hot tears stream down your face. You never thought you and Dean would ever break up, that you two would only grow stronger the older you get.

Sam’s gone, Dean wants nothing to do with you, and now…

Now, you’re left with nothing.

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