#to be fair she already put me/us on blast

[dadsbongos]

CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television. 

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write. 

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again. 

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to. 

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure. 

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against. 

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming. 

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

.

.

.

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it. 

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern. 

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page. 

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room. 

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

#denji x reader #denji fluff #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji x you #denji x fem reader

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 2

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

There's commotion from the house, loud enough for Eddie and Robin to hear it outside. Both turn towards the house, Robin halfway to standing up already, and the door is pushed open, El falling through it to get outside.

Someone calls El's name from inside, but she doesn't even turn around. She marches across the lawn to Eddie and Robin. "They are too loud and angry in there. Take me somewhere else."

Joyce makes it out the door next and with a raise of her hand behind her, one finger up, she stops everyone in the doorway. She descends the steps of the porch and Eddie is in awe about how much power she wields because no one follows after. Not even Dustin, who is the absolute worst at following orders.

"Whatever you need," Eddie answers El. He doesn't think she's blinked since exiting the house.

"We can go to Steve's," Robin offers. She's standing now and roots in a pocket of her jeans before pulling out a keychain with three keys on it. "Maybe it'll help being around all his stuff?"

"We can take my van," Eddie offers.

"That would be great," Joyce says, reaching out and grabbing one of El's hands in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's get some shoes on."

"Thank you," El says, shooting Eddie a smile before her eyes drop down to look at Steve. A frown returns to her face before she turns and heads back into the house with Joyce.

Robin turns to Eddie, offering a hand to him. She's probably offering to pull him up, but he holds Steve out to her instead. He doesn't understand why she looks surprised at that, but she takes Steve, cradles him close to herself like he had done earlier.

Eddie climbs into his van, starting it and reaching over to turn the dial on the radio down so it's not blasting at the loud volume he keeps it on. Robin hovers with the passenger door open. "You getting in, Buckley?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just thinking if I should crawl in the back. Let Joyce and El have the seats?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably."

She's absently petting Steve's hair, eyes slightly misty. He watches as she blinks away the tears before letting out a big sigh. "I just want to pass Steve off to whoever will be wearing a seatbelt. I've seen how you drive, Munson."

Eddie catches the teasing tone in her voice and laughs. "Fair. I'll take corners about 3 miles per hour slower than I normally do."

Robin laughs. "That's probably still ten above the speed limit."

"You should not speed," El's voice makes both Robin and Eddie jump. She's standing just behind Robin, and a quick look around shows Joyce on the porch, a worried look on her face but she makes no move to step off the porch.

"Is your mom coming?" Eddie asks. A complicated set of expressions crosses El's face and he's worried he might have asked the wrong thing somehow but then El answers.

"No. Just me. I will sit in the center," She slides past Robin and crawls up onto the bench seat of Eddie's van, scoots across the seat until she butts up against Eddie, and searches for the seatbelt before securing it.

"Here," Robin holds Steve out to El, who takes him, before Robin pulls herself into the van, shutting the door and buckling herself in.

Eddie doesn't go immediately because he's a bit busy watching El look at Steve. She's holding him like she's not sure how. She wraps one hand around an arm and his waist and uses the other to poke a porcelain cheek, right over the two moles just below his cheek bone. He can see the creases of a frown on her face.

"Are you okay, El?" Robin asks, which is good because he was about to, and he thinks his voice will come out more watery.

"I...," El looks up to Robin, then back down to Steve, "I do not know."

It hits Eddie like a freight truck just how young El is. He has to put the van in gear and drive to give his mind something to focus on or he's going to do something stupid, like bear hug El and ugly cry into her grown out buzzcut.

"Hey, that's okay," Robin says, "it's okay to not know how you're doing. This is a complicated situation."

"I barely know Steve," El says, which surprises Eddie. They all seem close, so much so that Eddie still feels like an intruder at times. Still, there is a tone to her voice that seems off to Eddie. "We do not have a reason to hang out. Not like everyone else. Lucas plays basketball with him. Dustin and Max claim him as their brother. Even Erica-"

El stops talking abruptly. Eddie glances towards her but she's staring down at Steve, so Eddie flicks his eyes to Robin, who is already looking at him and making an 'I don't' know' gesture with her hands before Eddie returns his eyes to the road.

"Mike does not care for Steve much," El continues suddenly, the tone still there and Eddie feels like he knows it, "I spent so much time with Mike that I think I did not care for Steve, either. Not on purpose. But- but in a way that you do not care about a thing because it is not important in your life?"

No one says anything else, because what can they say? Shortly after, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington residence behind Steve's Bimmer. "Alright ladies. Once more unto the breach!"

They crawl from the van and Robin unlocks the door. El and Eddie step through first. El moves into the house, clutching at Steve like he's her favorite stuffed toy. Robin freezes in the doorway, looks like she's not even breathing.

"Buckley?" Eddie is whispering and he doesn't know why.

"Sorry, sorry," Robin exhales a shaking breath. "It's just- Nancy and I- sorry. Uh, El, do you need us to do anything?"

She glides past Eddie to catch up to El and he is left to close the door. He wonders if, maybe, Robin should have also stayed at the Byers-Hopper home. It had been her and Nancy that had come to check in on Steve just this morning. It wasn't unusual to not hear from Steve sometimes (everyone needed their time to just be alone) but today must have marked Too Many Days for Robin because she'd called Nancy for a ride, and they'd found this. A locked house, Steve's car still here, and resting against the pillows of Steve's bed had been the porcelain replica. Nothing out of place, no ransom notes, nothing to make it seem like nefarious going ons had been taking place. Just the Harrington house, devoid of a flesh and blood Steve Harrington.

Coming back must be surreal.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Eddie startles a little. He'd been lost in his own head for a moment there.

"Can El have your bandana? She needs something to use as a blindfold."

"Yeah," Eddie moves through the house, to the living room where El has sat herself on the floor in front of the TV. Steve is lain in her lap, a mirror of the image Eddie must have made on the front lawn. He pulls the bandana from his pocket, folding it diagonally before offering it out to El.

She takes it, eyes flicking up to Eddie's. She looks sad. "Can you make the TV staticky?"

"On it."

Robin closes all the blinds and curtains, making the house a bit darker and Eddie gets the TV on, white noise filling the room.

They sit in that white noise for what feels like an eternity but when Eddie checks his watch, is actually about 22 minutes, before El suddenly yanks the makeshift blind fold off with a frustrated huff.

"It is not working!" She shouts.

Eddie looks to Robin, but she looks just as lost about all this as Eddie feels. Well. Eddie's always been good with kids. He'll make the attempt. "El, you said earlier you didn't know if you were okay. Maybe figuring that out will help? It can't be easy to get into the right headspace with other thoughts floating around. "

She looks down at Steve, then back to Eddie. Her eyes are wet. "I am scared."

Eddie nods, "me too. This is scary."

"I am scared I will not find him," she says, then drops her voice to a whisper to continue, "but I am more scared that I will."

He really wishes Joyce would have come with. Or Hopper, Jonathan, Will, anyone who actually knows El. He thinks she need a kind of comfort he and Robin cannot provide. "Well, El, what's the part that's really scary?"

She's quiet for a long time. "Steve has never needed saving before. Not by me. What if I can't?"

"Oh El, it's not on you to save him," Robin says, sliding off the couch to be on the floor with them. She must have more information than Eddie about why El would say that, which makes since, because Robin was part of the conversation when they'd decided to have El try and reach out to Steve. "It's not fair that it's only you that can do this, but we didn't ask expecting you to fix it. That's not the pressure we meant to put on you. All we want is a confirmation. And if you can't, that's okay, too. That'll be okay."

El frowns, bottom lip quivering before she reaches down and picks up Steve, shoving him into Eddie's arms before she launches herself at Robin, arms around her neck and burying her face into Robin's neck. Robin looks startled, eyes wide going to Eddie. He pulls Steve to his neck, in an imitation of the position El is in, then hugs him with one arm and uses his other hand to pet at Steve's hair, trying to make meaningful eyes contact with Robin. She gets with the program, hugging El and petting the back of her head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You want us to call Joyce or Hopper over?" Robin soothes, her body now gently rocking with El in her lap.

There's a muffled, quiet 'no' from El but that's it. She doesn't say anything else, or move, for a couple minutes.

El pulls back finally, away from Robin to sit up straight. "Okay. I am ready again. Please hand me Steve."

He does, belatedly realizing he was still cuddling and petting Steve. Oh. He really hopes that if Steve is the doll, that he doesn't have any sort of touch receptors going on. That'll be embarrassing.

Steve settled in her lap again, blindfold back on, El tries again.

It takes about two minutes before Eddie watches a bit of blood trickle out of her nose. He shoots a worried look to Robin before lifting a hand, intent on reaching out to El, but before he fully extends his arm, Robin stops him with a shake of her head.

Another eternity passes before El gasps and pulls the blindfold off.

"What happened? Did you find him?" Robin asks.

El looks from Robin to Eddie, then down to Steve, then back up to Eddie, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. He wants me to tell you 'thank you, for taking the time to explain because Dustin never does.' He said you would know what he was talking about?"

"Holy shit." He and Robin say it at the same time. Robin scrabbles over the couch, rather than around it, and dashes out of sight. Eddie doesn't think he could make his legs work if he wanted to. Steve can hear them. (Ha Dustin!)

El deposits Steve into Eddie's arms. "It is him. He does not know what happened, either. He can hear and see. He appreciates that you did not let the sun blind him."

"El, you are the most amazing person I've ever met," Eddie says and watches the grin grow on El's face. "Alright. Well, the first step to a solution is knowing and now we know."

Robin pops back into view behind the couch, "everyone is on their way here now. I tried to tell Will we'd go back to them, 'cause y'know, less people and cars to worry about but I guess they want the base of operations to be here. How mad do you think Steve would be if I got copies of my key made for everyone?"

"I can ask him," El offers.

"Nah," Eddie grins, "it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission. And you'll forgive us, won't you, Stevie?"

Steve, of course, does not answer, but it does settle something inside Eddie knowing that he hears the question.

Steve's a doll. They know that for sure. Now, they can find a solution.

#steddie #platonic stobin #my fic #why am i like this guys??? ill get back to my other fics eventually #unfortunately this porcelain doll AU has consumed my little gremlin brain #anyway i LOVE the El&Steve sibling dynamic but i think El should get to have complicated feelings about steve first #porcelain steve

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hope you’ve had a great day. It’s raining like crazy where I am and I have this little wolf plushie that’s reminds me of Jason so I had this thought. This would be a good headcannon or blurb but Jason grace x reader (you do daughter of Poseidon perfectly so please do that) where reader has a wolf plushie that she hugs when Jason isn’t around especially when it’s raining (you know cause she’s a forbidden kid and Zeus probably tried to use a storm to do her in once). Maybe Jason comes in because either Percy (being the overprotective brother he is) was worried about her being alone during it (y/n probably didn’t tell Jason so that he wouldn’t worry) or he just knows, and he finds her either trying to or already asleep with the plushie. So so sorry this is so long. Love you keep up the great work.

✮⋆˙ rain, rain, go away, don’t come back another day!; jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb

content: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb warning: language and very brief mentions of murder at the end lmao author's note: i LOVED this prompt. so fun so cutesy. also, i feel the need to clarify, bc otherwise ill look dumb as fuck, the wolf's name is 'jason' backwards. and the pronunciation is completely from my brain, bc there needed to be something ig. kinda think 'no' 'sah' and then the 'j' acts like a 'j' would in 'raj'

the daughter of poseidon found comfort in a few things; the rain always felt like a warm hug from a parent, the crashing of waves upon a beach always managed to sooth her mind, the laughter of her friends working to ease the stress that grew in her bones.

thunderstorms, though, were not one of the things she found comfort in. even if they did remind her of her sweet boyfriend.

zeus was mad, for some reason that alluded most everyone at camp, so they had to suffer through some stupid thunderstorm. and every crack of thunder and flash of lightening had the girl curling up in her bed even more, her eyes nervously darting around and her wolf plush tightly squeezed to her chest. she wouldn't put it past the god to strike her down, even in the safety of her father's cabin. it didn't help that she, who he believed to a soiled and dirty greek girl, was dating her golden boy roman son. it gave him more motive and ocean's daughter watched enough criminal minds to know he had more than enough reasons to kill her. smite her into smithereens. to tear her atom from atom-

"i'll be back," percy murmured, interrupting her thoughts, maybe an hour into the storm. her eyes tracked him, swallowing thickly before jumping at another rolling of thunder.

"w-where you going?? it's not, exactly, um safe-"

"it is for me. i'm not dating his son," percy mused, trying to lighten the mood but his smile dropped as he saw the stress in your face deepen.

"well, i wouldn't say he's your biggest fan, either," you managed to get out without stuttering and percy rolled his eyes.

"fair. but ill be back," he repeated, vaguely before tugging a hoodie on and leaving the cabin. you said a silent prayer for his safety before yelping as a flash of lightening caught you off guard, leaving you huffing. you were a valiant warrior and the daughter of poseidon, gods damn it, you shouldn't be scared by some measly storm!

"can you come look after y/n?? the storm's scaring her shitless but she won't come get you because she thinks your dads gonna blast her into particles," percy asked as he shook jason away, the blonde boy groggily blinking his eyes and trying to understand his friends words

"huh?" jason asked, his hand jumping around on his night stand until he found his glasses and slid them on to his face, yawning as he took in a sopping wet percy.

"my sister, your girlfriend, is scared," percy restated, simply, and jason was already jumping out of bed, just barely finding time to grab a hoodie before running out of the cabin. percy rolled his eyes and went to follow before decided he'd rather not spend a night in his own cabin with his sister and her boyfriend...and jason's bed was inviting and unattended and probably would be for the rest of the night. i mean, i'd be downright wasteful if percy didn't sleep in cabin one.

"hon?" jason called as he walked into the poseidon cabin, closing the door behind him before walking towards your side of the cabin, "percy mentioned something about the storm and you-"

jason's words promptly stopped as he finally saw you, his strange girlfriend. you had built a tiny castle out of pillows, your shelter from the storm. you'd clearly stolen some from percy, two on either side of you and then one stacked before your head and one under it. weirdly enough, you had also laid a pillow over your feet as well. jason quietly laughed into his hand, his heard melting at the strange sight. but, you had somehow managed to fall asleep like this, the wolf plushy that you had lovingly named 'nosaj' (pronounced no-s-ah-j) tucked in your arms. jason took a mental picture, eager to remember this moment, before gently removing some of the pillows and replacing them with his body.

you reacted instantly and subconsciously, nosaj quickly abandoned in trade for jason. he smirked, proud to be chosen over a plushie as you wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your leg over his, cuddling into his form easily. jason wrapped his arms around your waist and comfortingly spread his hands wide over your lower back. you muttered something into his neck that sounded like 'i love you' but he wasn't completely sure. for all he knew, you could have said 'fuck you.' and he still couldn't have loved you more, even if you had. he pressed a kiss to your temple at whatever your words had been and he was met by the even lapping of your breath. he waited, watching for a few moments before he decided to speak.

"if my dad so much as thought about laying a hand on a single strand of your pretty hair, i'd tear olympus down and soak the place in his ichor. without a second thought, without hesitation. i'd electrocute the world if you asked me to."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader

[magicalbats]

Tavern Nights (Sampo x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5949

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, alcohol, coercion, manipulation, just generally skeevy/predatory behavior, age difference, size difference, public fondling, public nudity, implied public blowjob

A/N: My second commission from the donation's for Parm. I was once again lucky enough to get permission to post this for everyone to read and (hopefully) enjoy, and I am very glad for that. I just don't think Sampo gets enough love! Someday everyone who's been sleeping on him will regret it, I promise you that! Anyway, thank you so, so much for working with me on this @rabbbitseason I had a blast! ❤️

⭐

It's been a long, long time since he last frequented The Tavern as much as he has in just the past week alone. When he was young and still figuring out his place in this expansive universe, he’d spent countless nights here simply taking in the ambiance and the drink, with maybe even a bit of gambling on the side here or there. Maybe a bit of fucking too, when he found an interesting partner to take into one of the frequently used back rooms. And the Masked Fool’s had no shortage of interesting people. 

But now he was older, arguably wiser and not quite so easily taken in by all the revelry and merrymaking of the familiar old haunt. In truth, he hadn’t thought he’d ever visit this place again after willingly parting with his mask. Sparkle drove a hard bargain though and after spending too much time with her on Penacony it was hard to tell her ‘no’ and actually mean it. 

He’d tried. Really, he had. But he hadn’t meant it. 

She’d seen right through it, of course. 

Sparkle isn’t with him tonight, nor had she been at his side the previous time either. Just that first fateful evening, wherein she’d pretended to be the good little chaperone accompanying her charge back to where he belonged (according to her, at least) like a shepherd returning the lost sheep to its flock. She’d ditched him quickly enough after that but he was fine with it. Glad, actually, because he’d managed to find someone much more his speed than ole’ miss Sparkle who in many ways had proven herself nothing but trouble. 

“Mister Koski! I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon!” 

His poor heart practically melts into an unrecognizable puddle right then and there as you come bouncing over to him with an excited grin on your face. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had been so excited to see him, if ever such a person had existed at all. It does his ego a world of good, and he pins you with a dotingly indulgent smile when you come to a stop before him. 

“Now, now. I told you to drop the formalities, didn’t I kiddo’? Just call me ‘Sampo’.”

“Okay, mister Sampo! Will do!” 

Cute. He thinks it’s really quite cute in a way that doesn’t seem particularly fair to him, or any other man with a working pair of eyes and a functioning cock, but he isn’t about to tell you that. You were already fidgeting before him like you were flustered under his attention, or perhaps excited to be on the receiving end of it, and he didn’t want to break the illusion just yet. 

In terms of young rookie Fools, you were perhaps the most bright eyed and bushy tailed he’d ever met. He’d seen more than his fair share over the years, had even been one himself at some point in the far distant past, but he’d never known one quite like you. Even putting aside your obvious fascination with him (only partially owed to his usual charms, he's willing to admit) there was something about you that just screamed … naive and a little too trusting. Like ‘please take advantage of me’ was stamped across your forehead in permanent ink. 

Sampo wonders, not for the first time, how exactly you ended up here with a dainty little mask perched atop the crown of your head like a hat. A somewhat unsettling hat, albeit, but a hat nonetheless. It looks like the blank face of a doll, which he finds rather fitting for you, with a full set of luxurious lashes but no eyes and no hair. Just an adorable button nose and a tiny mouth set in a neutral pout. He probably would have found it a bit creepy had it not only added on to just how very interesting he considered you to be. 

“Alright, enough of that. I’m just stopping in for one last drink before I head out.” He tells you with a velvety drawl. “Would you care to join me?” 

At some point he was probably going to end up regretting this but for right now at least he deemed that a problem for Future Sampo to worry about. In the present, he was much more keen on having some fun with you first before any silly notions like impropriety or moral obligation managed to sink its claws into him. 

At your eager nod, he reaches out to take your shoulder in what most would likely consider a too friendly gesture but you don’t even bat an eye at it when he steers you towards the back of the establishment. Finds a nice unoccupied booth in the corner, away from all the other Fool’s who have largely gathered around the bar to have their drinks and play cards with one another, the wagers of which could have ranged from anything as mundane as simple credits to the outrageous sort he’d seen on more than one occasion here. A long lost relic from a forgotten civilization, once, or even a mutually assured self destruction button courtesy of miss Sparkle herself. It was her favorite toy, after all. 

Much to his satisfaction, you obediently sit when he nudges you into the booth, scooting over along the bench to give him some space to join you. Bending at the waist when a chorus of hoots and hollers rises up behind him, Sampo has to lean down and get close to your ear in order to ensure he’s heard over the raucous noise. 

“What can I get you to drink, sweetheart? It’s on me.” 

There you go squirming again, looking really quite pleased as you sit up a little straighter and round your shoulders for him. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.” 

How precious. 

“Ooh, now that might turn out to be a bit dangerous if you’re not careful. I have a feeling I’m a tad more experienced than you when it comes to, uh, drinking.” 

If you find the sleazy note in his voice at all off putting you certainly don’t show it, looking up at him with the kind of bright faced confidence only someone in their youth can pull off. ‘Take advantage of me’, indeed. 

“Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” You tell him candidly. “It’ll be your mistake if you underestimate me.” 

Was that a challenge? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were doing this to him on purpose. 

“Pft. I bet. Okay then, just sit tight. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. I’ll be back momentarily.” He starts to straighten up but not without sliding his hand down from where it had reached out to brace against the backrest of the booth seat just behind you. Perfectly casual about it, Sampo palms the top of your head in a quick, harmless pat that shifts the little mask and ruffles your hair just so before pulling away entirely. He doesn’t stop long enough to take in your reaction or gauge what you think about it. He doesn’t really need to. 

This was not the first time he’d touched you in such a seemingly off handed manner and he already knew you were preening under the attention. No matter how many times he’d tested the waters the reaction was always the same. You liked him. Wanted him to keep touching you like that, either knowingly or unknowingly, he couldn’t yet say for sure, but he was more than happy to give it to you regardless of the reason. Lucky you. 

He returns to the table a few minutes later with a freshly made drink in both hands, watching carefully from under the fringe of his hair when he sets yours in front of you. It’s a dark, murky looking concoction that seems to announce in no uncertain terms that it’s potent and strong with just a glance. As expected, you don’t look quite so sure of yourself anymore when you take in the thick consistency inside the stout glass. 

But you keep a brave face, which he has to give you credit for, especially when you don’t hesitate to pick it up at his nudging insistence. The first tentative sip has you choking at the taste even as you desperately try to blink away the tears that come into your eyes, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing at your expense. 

Sampo doesn’t push it on you anymore than that though, finding it much more entertaining to watch you slowly try to drink it all down completely of your volition. He doesn’t even need to wheedle you or coerce you into it. You just do it — because you had something to prove? Or was it because you wanted so badly to impress him that you were willing to get yourself drunk just to accomplish it? He isn’t entirely sure on that front either but it doesn’t actually matter. You were doing exactly what he’d hoped you would and that pleases him a great deal. 

By the time an hour has gone by, you’re slumped against him in the booth with your head tilted back, resting along his bicep where it’s curled over the back of the seat. He’s kept you talking for the greater portion of your time spent together, alternating between one triviality or another just to ensure you don’t accidentally doze off on him. He could now name your favorite color, the school you’d attended back on your home planet and the breed of your first pet. You hadn’t struck him as the sort to be fond of Pettu Hamsters, bizarre little rodent-like beasts that laid eggs and curled themselves into tight balls for protection, but you’d assured him that you were quite fond of them. Given the no nonsense look you’d leveled on him, he believed you. 

“And you know what happened next?”

It’s obvious you’re a little too relaxed to be self conscious anymore, and he doesn’t say a word about it when you not so subtly shift closer to him on the bench. You’re practically pressed right up against his side now but, still, he doesn’t make his move yet. Sampo may have technically been working to pull one over on you but that didn’t mean he was going to be a pig about it. 

“I’d never seen a meteor shower like that before. All up close and personal, right outside my window. It was pretty cool but kind of scary at the same time.” You’re rambling about nothing in particular. Just a fond reminiscence of the long list of firsts you’d experienced upon leaving home, which Sampo listens in on as much as he needs to. There were a few other first time things he wanted to introduce you to, provided you didn’t fall asleep on top of him before then. “I thought for sure one of them was going to slam into the ship and — and vacuum us out into space! All I remember going through my head at the time was that I didn’t want to die like that. I can’t imagine it would feel great. What do you think?” 

You tip your face towards him with the sluggish, heavy lidded lethargy of someone well and truly buzzed. Sampo just chuckles as he tips his chin down, cheek braced against his propped up fist for support. 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling. What was that you said earlier about being able to handle yourself?” 

Unmistakable fluster creeps across your expression, distant though it may be under the hazy mask of intoxication. “I didn’t know you’d get me something so strong. Are you sure you weren’t purposely trying to get me drunk?” 

Feigning hurt, Sampo draws his brows together in an overly affected lift and places his opposite hand over his heart. “Why, I never! Such a serious accusation to lobby at a gentleman of my esteemed standing. Just ask anyone here, missy, and they’ll tell you exactly what kind of upstanding, trustworthy guy Sampo Koski is!” 

You giggle at his theatrics and reach over to weakly shove at him. Your arm seems to immediately lose all of its remaining strength though, and rather bonelessly flops down to stretch out along his thigh. He can see his moment to strike fast approaching but it still wasn’t the perfect time. Soon, very soon, just not quite yet. 

“You’re funny.” 

“We’re all a bit funny here, I’m afraid.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a slyly suggestive drawl again. “You’ve still got some growing to do if you want to fit into that mask on your head. Want some pointers?” 

Huffing softly at the suggestion, you visibly muster up the strength to send him a weak look of warning. “I’m already grown. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now if I wasn’t, would I?” 

Sampo sends a slow look of appraisal down at your chest, noting the weight behind the thin material of your blouse while images of what your bare breasts might look like dance through his head. Yes, there certainly would be no denying that you were of a mature build and filled out in all the right places. 

“Mmm, if we’re talking physically then you’re right, of course. I doubt anything I say would help you get any taller.” 

“Hey.” 

“But I wasn’t talking about that,” He goes on, ignoring your interjection. “I meant your future as a Masked Fool. You haven’t drawn Aha’s gaze yet, have you sweetness?” 

“… no.” 

You look like you want to pout about that, and Sampo chuckles at the petulant tug of your mouth. Seriously too cute. 

“Oh, but fret not, little one.” He coos. “You’ve got me here to show you the ropes, don’t you? I promise I’m a good teacher.” 

You seem to think about that for a long moment, giving it the due consideration of someone who hasn’t yet picked up on the scam. Not that he could really blame you or the alcohol making your eyes look so heavy and tired. Sampo was good at the game. Always had been, even when he was younger, and his technique had only continued to improve over time. Most people assumed him far too goofy and painfully obvious to harbor any ulterior motives after he started laying it on thick enough. That was the real angle to his schemes, once you got right down to it. Hiding in plain sight was in many ways his specialty. 

“What will you teach me?” You finally ask, roving your attention up towards his face once again. The way you look at him is so unassuming and guileless that he knew he could have offered you a tropical vacation home on Jarilo-VI and you probably would have bought into it without question. Poor thing. 

The muscles along his back gradually start to tense with the building anticipation of finally making his move, of pouncing on his chosen prey to claim it for himself, and he leans down, practically engulfing you in the mass of his much larger frame. You feel as tiny sitting next to him on the bench seat as you look, far outclassed by his much taller, broader build and such a sharp contrast to your feminine stature. He could have easily overpowered you if that was how he’d wanted to go about it but, well, Sampo Koski was never one for doing things the hard way if he could help it. 

His face now hovering just over yours with precious room to spare, he slowly reaches up to brush the tips of gloved fingers under your chin. Your lashes flutter at the touch, threatening to slide shut, but an attention grabbing upward nudge prompts them wide open again. 

“There are a few things I can think of,” He purrs, secretly delighting in the way you start to squirm for him. Nervous or eager? He’d find out soon enough. “An old dog like me has his trusty bag of tricks, rest assured. I’d be happy to share some with you, if you’re interested?” 

Your mouth parts, a tiny pink tongue inching out to glance over your lips and wet them. It almost makes him crack. Almost throws all of his self control and restraint right out the window, but he forces himself to wait. To let you respond first before he goes in for the kill. It would make everything so, so much more satisfying in the long run. 

“Okay.” You finally murmur. “I’m game.” 

“Glad to hear it. Shall we seal the deal and make it official then?” 

A small sound of confusion slips out of you but then he’s leaning the rest of the way in, closing the scant distance. You don’t protest or pull away. Just watch him with wide, fascinated eyes as he tilts his mouth to slot against yours, and a dull jolt works through your body at the contact. He keeps it brief and gentle, a mere brushing of mouths, before pulling back enough to pin you with a lopsided smirk. 

“There. Now it’s a promise.”

Tentatively, you reach up to touch your bottom lip. “Is that how all the Fool’s make their promises?” 

He shrugs broad shoulders, tracing shapes along the side of your neck with blunt fingers. “Only the really fun ones.”

Extending his thumb to prod the underside of your chin, Sampo carefully nudges your face back up at him until your hand finally falls away and you comply, offering him a vaguely flustered look. 

“Another, for good luck?” 

The first real glimpse of uncertainty flashes across your face at that. You hesitate, flicking a quick glance behind him at the rest of the bar and — 

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about them.” Soothingly, he cups your cheek in what otherwise would have been a comforting gesture had it not been for the way he gives the roundest part of your face a quick, mostly harmless pinch. “They’ll mind their business so there’s no need to get shy on me now. Besides, I’ve already kissed you once haven’t I? What harm could one more do?” 

You still don’t appear to be totally convinced but you give him a brief, stilted nod anyway. He’s pretty sure it’s the unmistakable gleam of excitement he can see reflecting back at him in your gaze, unsquashable despite your obvious nerves, and Sampo feels a smoldering hot rush of victory sear through his veins when he leans into your space again. 

His mouth brushing over yours in a light, coaxing caress, you simply sit there for a long moment of indecision like a frozen, petrified statue. So still he isn’t even sure if you’re breathing. But then, thoroughly dashing that impression against the floor, you come alive under him all at once. Give a squirming shudder and press up into him, fervently kissing him back as if in outright challenge. He feels your lips trembling against his and he can’t quite keep the leer off his face when he increases the pressure to kiss you just a little bit harder, claiming you as his own. 

The discordant noise of revelry and drinking, Fool’s eternally at play, seems to highlight the poignancy of what’s happening in the booth situated in the far back while at the same time it also recedes to a far distant thrum of vague sounds. Like everyone else in The Tavern was on the other side of some great, reverberating tunnel. His attention is focused entirely on you and the way you slowly bring your hand up to tentatively brace the palm of it against his chest. Your fingers feel dainty, something small and fragile, and he quickly decides to return the favor. 

Sliding his own hand down off your cheek, over the line of your neck and past the soft jut of your clavicle, he takes a slow pass over one breast. They’re big but his hands are bigger still, and it easily cups around the full weight of it behind your blouse. You react like he’d electrocuted you, jolting in your seat as your head tips back and your lips slacken, dropping open as if to moan. But he just follows you, keeping his lips sealed over yours so he can plunge his tongue into that cute, hot little mouth and truly taste you for the first time. 

Noising an incomprehensible kitten mewl against him, you close your hand around his shirt and give it a halfhearted tug. Like you wanted to pull him in closer but you weren’t quite confident enough to follow through on that urge; like your head was spinning a shade too fast from the alcohol as much as the surge of physical responses in your body to make any sense of what was happening and act on it. 

Sampo can tell you’re enjoying it though. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure that out. 

The proof is as plain as if you’d spoken the words aloud. You don’t bite at his tongue when it invades your mouth to explore every little nook and cranny inside, nor do you pull away in revulsion when he leisurely fucks it towards the back of your throat in slow, suggestive motions. You also don’t attempt to slap his hand away when it comes back up to caress over the fullest part of your breast again. He can feel your nipple rapidly stiffening underneath the layers of your clothes, responding to him with a great deal of eager enthusiasm that has you shuddering and pressing your legs together. So sensitive. 

He could really exploit that if given half a chance. 

At length, he breaks apart from the kiss with a low, seedy exhale of deeply felt masculine pleasure. Peers down at you with an easy, self satisfied grin, but you look to be a bit out of it and lost in your own little world. With your head tipped back and rested against his arm where it’s still curled over the top of the booth seat, you merely blink up at him through a hazy, distant gleam in your eyes. Panting softly, as if you couldn’t quite catch your breath while he was idly fondling your tit. Hardly any wonder there, given how much you seemed to be feeling everything in stunning high definition, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. 

“Oh my, it seems like someone is having a good time now. I wasn’t expecting you to look at me like that, kiddo’. You’re gonna’ have this old man falling in love if you’re not careful.” 

Your breath catches in obvious surprise, a vaguely startled expression creeping onto your face. Sampo doesn’t give you a chance to question him or realize that he was only teasing though, and instead tips his attention downward to regard the weight of your chest. A fresh wave of innate satisfaction washes over him when you do the same, following his line of sight to peer down at yourself as well. 

“You’re looking a little hot under the collar, y’know. Let me help you with that.” 

Fingertips tracing the path over your breast, he reaches lower and you finally seem to snap out of it. You give a quick start, fumbling to get your hands down to try and grab at him, but even with both sets of digits locked around his blocky wrist it’s easy enough for him to tug your blouse free of your cute little skirt and get it inched up enough to reveal a smooth strip of your fluttering stomach. 

“M - mister Sampo!” You squeak, halfheartedly twisting in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. “We’re — we’re still in public, you can’t - -“

“Hush now, sweetheart. Your ol’ pal Sampo’s got you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. See?” With a taunting flick of his hand, your blouse rises up another inch or so, and with it so too do your eyes grow even wider. “No ones even paying attention to us over here so they won’t see anything. Trust me. I’ll make sure of that. After all, you’re mine now, aren’t you? Can’t have anyone else eyeballing the goods, right?” 

Numbly, your gaze roves up to regard him again. There’s an unspoken question behind your expression, a sentiment that you hesitate to give voice to, and he just hums a playful little tune under his breath while he continues to toy the hem of your top. One more nudge is all it would take to reveal what sort of bra you were wearing and he couldn’t wait to find out. His bet was on something soft and girly, with a bow or maybe even a bit of lace? But first … 

“Don’t tell me you’re really that scared, sweetness? Even with me here?” 

Your brow pinches inward, creating an adorable little crease between them to go with the almost petulant pull of your mouth. An internal war wages, bloody and violent, behind your eyes while you no doubt weigh out the multitude of options at your fingertips. The truth or a deceitful lie, which would you ultimately decide? Sampo knew which one he would pick had it been him standing under the spotlight but he’d meant it when he said you still had a lot left to learn. That part, at least, hadn’t been facetious. 

Finally making your decision another series of heartbeats later, you at last give him a mute nod. It pulls a soft, doting sound from deep within his chest and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside as he dips his face close again, rumbling a low sound of approval. 

“Aww, you poor thing. It’s okay though. Just trust your old friend Sampo, okay? Here, I’ll even make it better with another kiss.” 

This time you eagerly tip your face up to meet him halfway, and a soft sound of need puffs out of you when your lips meet again. He kisses you deeply now, claiming your mouth for himself and swiping his tongue inside with a possessive, demanding gesture that has you mewling faintly in response. As he’d half suspected you would, you positively melt under him like you were happy to give into the pulse pounding heat and the risk of the moment as long as he was there to guide you through it. To lead you and to teach, just as he’d promised you he would. 

Thoroughly placated now, you don’t protest or make a move to stop him while he inches your shirt the rest of the way up, but you do shudder uncontrollably at the first waft against your exposed chest. Still fervently kissing you, Sampo cracks an eye open and peers out from under the fringe of his hair to look at what he’s working with. A dull thrum of pleasure promptly races up his spine when he sees that your tits are just as juicy and tantalizing as he’d thought they’d be, and he voraciously watches them heave within the confines of your pale peach colored bra. It’s a lovely shade that complements your skin tone perfectly but he’s a bit too impatient to simply admire it or the dainty blue bow on the front for very long. 

You groan into his mouth, arching against the booth, when he casually slips a long digit under the middle center of the dainty undergarment but he just swallows the noise and tugs. Doesn’t even give you a moment to understand what he was planning to do, and your breasts spill out with a meaty jostle as the cups slide up and away. Your nipples are already stiff and aching when they hit the air, pointing up off your chest in demand of attention, and you finally tear your face from his with a threadbare, faltering gasp. 

Sampo can’t quite find the wherewithal to follow after you and lay claim to your mouth again when he was so damnably transfixed by the sight of your bare tits, round and squeezable in all their fleshy abundance. He feels suddenly faint from how violently his cock instantly springs up in his pants to shove at the inside of the zipper, only vaguely aware of you turning your head away in bashful reproach while your hands come up to crowd together over your chest. 

Oh, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He coos at you, the usually soft inflection of his voice noticeably absent now. It seems to have been replaced by a deeper, gravelly edge that makes his customary sing-song fall short. 

You don’t seem to mind though, much too preoccupied with softly whimpering when he takes one of your hands by the wrist and gently pries it away, curling it up and back so he can juggle it over to his opposite hand. Half restrained now, you can’t do much else but anxiously squirm in place when he reaches back down to lightly tweak the exposed tip of your breast between thumb and forefinger. 

“Ahhn!” 

“Mmm, these are awfully tender, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t really expect a response, which is good, because you can’t seem to catch your breath long enough to actually speak. All that comes out of your mouth are short, tender little gasps and the softest moans his old ears have ever heard. It sounds like the sweetest music and he makes an effort to file it all away for later, when he was back in Belobog and lonely in the middle of the cold, frozen eternity that had yet to see any noticeable improvements since the Stellaron Disaster there was neutralized. Maybe someday it would, hopefully even soon, but he wasn’t expecting to return from this trip to find lush fields of green stretching as far as the eye could see. 

This night spent with you here in The Tavern was going to keep him comfortably warm for many more to come though, and he eagerly folds himself over you so he can bend down and seal his mouth around that pert, straining bud. You give a tiny little cry, a sensitive yelp that you quickly try to stifle, but not fast enough. 

Releasing his hold on your wrist, Sampo snakes his arm around the back of your head and covers your mouth with his broad palm. You let out a muffled protest behind his glove and try to turn your head away but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you that he can easily hold you in place no matter how you squirm or weakly shove at his forearm. Still sucking on your sore little teat, his mouth working the fleshy nub to a tight coil, he rolls his eyes upward to look at you from this angle. 

If he’d thought you were pretty before, now you were downright gorgeous. That hazy, flustered look of begrudging pleasure really suited you. Especially when it was because of what he was doing to you. 

He isn’t sure how much more of the anticipation he can stand when his cock was already aching, practically throbbing inside his pants, and he at least disengages from your breast with a noted hint of regret some moments later. In the wake of his attentions your stiff little teat is left flushed a noticeable shade darker than when he’d started and glistening with a fine sheen of sticky, fast cooling spit. The sight alone makes him groan, low and gravelly, as he looks upon it with longing. 

Oh, how he would’ve loved nothing more than to simply suckle at both of them for an hour or two but this was hardly the right place or time for him to indulge like that. Even what he had in mind for you had the potential to backfire with spectacularly disastrous (yet still amusing) results. It was time to get on with it before anyone’s attention was drawn towards the far back corner and curious interlopers came creeping over to check what was happening. 

“You seem to be quite sensitive, darling. Even moreso than I initially thought, and somethiiiiing tells me you’re going to be a screamer so we’ll have to play it a bit safe.” He murmurs, teasing you with a quick wink as he straightens up and allows his free hand to slide down lower to pinch at the hem of your skirt. 

Already askew from all of your fidgeting, it doesn’t take much for him to pull it up enough to reveal your panties moulded to the puffy outline of your cunt. Even just a quick glance assures him you’re wet and sticky given the way the matching peachy material sticks to you and he gives his tongue a soft click as if in reproach. 

“Really now, are you sure the possibility of getting caught isn’t exciting you? Well, you’re a hundred years too early to try and pull one over on Sampo Koski, I promise you that.” 

He shifts back into his seat to settle in next to you again before releasing his hold on your mouth. You promptly suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, swaying somewhat unsteadily on the bench, but the reprieve is short lived. Grabbing you around the middle, Sampo effortlessly manhandles you around so he can pull you half into his lap, partially sprawled out across the seat and perfectly positioned over the tent in his trousers. Your little mask has been almost completely dislodged from its perch atop your head in all the shuffling, and he reaches up to pull it the rest of the way off while his other hand busily works on his zipper. 

“How about this,” He starts, using his most effective and well practiced salesman pitch, feeling much too hot and reckless to reconsider the wisdom in this move. If you finally decided you’d had enough of him and all his pawing it wouldn’t be hard for you to put him out of commission for the foreseeable future in this particular position. But, well, he didn’t really think he needed to worry about that too much. “Let’s keep that mouth of yours busy for right now and I’ll make it up to you later, huh? Whaddya’ say? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Panting and flushed, you slowly lift your face to regard him. A bright, sparkling gleam flashes through your eyes and you grin, looking like you were seconds away from bursting out into uncontrollable, wild laughter. You looked like a kid on Christmas morning being handed the one present she’d wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world and that youthful, beaming enthusiasm just makes his balls draw up achingly tight in heady anticipation. He couldn’t wait to sink himself into you. Any part of you. It didn’t really matter which, when you had him so painfully stiff in his pants and more worked up than he could recall being in a very long time. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister Sampo.” 

He almost laughs too, feeling the familiar bubbling sensation gleefully rising in his chest, but it’s swallowed up and doused by a shaky groan of relief when he finally manages to fish his cock out. It was starting to make more sense to him, why you were here rather than anywhere else in the vast cosmos, but he didn’t care enough to dig for any real answers. 

All that mattered was that you were interesting and you were fun, and as long as the two of you were having fun together then everything else was irrelevant to him.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#honkai star rail #star rail #sampo koski #sampo x reader #self insert bullshit

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 2 -Wendigo

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

Making their way just outside of Grand Junction. Sam and Dean are in the Impala. Dean driving of course. They're heading over to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.

Y/N is following behind the boys in her bike, Dean glances in the rear view mirror, checking in on her every so often, rock music blasting from Baby's deck, while his brother is asleep in the passenger seat.

Sam jumps awake, gasping for air. Seemingly from a nightmare. This startles Dean a bit. All week his brother has been jumpy since Jessica's death. He has also noticed that Y/N seems a bit jumpy too but not as much as Sam. His girlfriend did just die the same way their mother did so it's only fair.

Sam's rubbing his eyes "You okay?" Dean asks him. He breaths in deeply. "Yeah I'm fine" he lies terribly. "Another nightmare?" Dean asks his brother knowingly. Clearing his throat, Sam doesn't answer. "You wanna drive for a while?" Dean instead asks, leaving Sam amused looking at his older brother in disbelief.

"Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that" Sam says matter of factly. Dean rolls his eyes. "Just thought you might want to. Never mind" He says sounding kinda offended.

"Look man. You're worried about me. I see the way you and Y/N look at me when you think I'm not looking, I get it. And thank you but I'm perfectly okay" Sam fails to assure Dean. "Uh huh" Dean hums, not convinced because he knows his little brother.

Sighing, Sam grabs the map asking where they are. Dean tells him they're just outside of Grand Junction. Sam says they shouldn't have left Stanford so soon but Dean reminds him that they stayed for a week. Dug around looking for what killed his girlfriend but came up empty.

"If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica..." Dean starts "...we gotta find dad first" Sam finishes. "Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after 20 years...it's no coincidence. Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do" Dean says.

A thought runs through Sam's head, Dean notices the look on his brothers face. "What?" He asks. "I just....I think I know who we can call to help us find dad. Or at least find the thing that killed Jess" Sam says giving his brother a knowing look. Dean catches on "Absolutely not!" He instantly says.

"Come on Dean. It's her father. They've been talking more and more since she's been with us. They seem to be getting along just fine" Sam tries to reason but Dean shakes his head.

"That's a conversation we need to have with Y/N and you already know what the answer will be" Dean defends. "She left for a reason and we need to respect that. Going behind her back would be a clear violation of her privacy and I certainly do not wanna face her wrath" Dean concludes. That girl can be vicious when necessary.

Sam smiles slightly at Deans need to defend Y/N. Dropping it he sighs mumbling, "You're right, if she decides to ask for his help we won't deny it though." Sam says. "Fat chance" Dean says snorting. Going back to the previous subject while looking at the map.

"It's weird, man. These coordinates dad left us, this Blackwater Ridge" Sam says. "Yeah what about it?" Dean asks. "There's nothing there. It's just woods." Sam explains putting the map down. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?" Sam questions his fathers order as per usual and Dean just looks at his brother and continues driving, Glancing back outside at Y/N momentarily.

The Impala and Harley approaches a large black and white sign saying "Welcome to Lost Creek Colorado. National Forest"

________________________________

Y/N's POV

After coming up short on the hunt for the monster that killed Jessica, I really considered calling my father for help with Jess' killer and the search for John. He too hasn't heard from him in a while.

Part of me knows he'll come without hesitation but I also know that eventually when we do clash heads and argue. He'll throw the fact that I called him for help after I left back in my face. To boast his ego and bruise mine. I went against it with my better instincts and stuck by the boys side after Sam's tragic loss.

My head hurts just thinking about it, I can already feel the splitting migraine forming in my forehead. I really need to get some proper sleep.

The boys and I are now at the Ranger Station on the Lost Creek Trail in Colorado. "So Blackwater Ridge is a pretty remote. It's cut off by these cannons here" Sam explains to us, leaning on the table with the 3D model of the caves.

"Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place." He further elaborates. But me and Dean are too intrigued by the gigantic bear in the picture across the room. "Dude check out the size of this frigging bear" Dean says impressed while I nod.

I look over at Sam with a goofy grin on my face. Pointing to the bear with my thumb. His head pans over to us with a 'really?' look on his face. I just shrug. He walks over to me and Dean, his arms crossed over his chest. "And a dozen or more grizzlies in the areas" Sam says.

"Jesus, ain't no nature hike. That's for sure" I say in disbelief. "You kids aren't planning to go out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" The Ranger behind us who let us into the station inquires. "Oh no sir. We're environmental study majors are UC Boulder. Just working on a paper" I pull the first lie that came to my head out.

Sam and Dean nod agreeing. "Recycle man" Dean says enthusiastically, pumping his fist in the air chuckling as Sam and I smile and nod. "Bull" the ranger calls my lie out. The boys and I now have a panicked look on our faces. "You're friends with that Haley girl right?" The ranger says, pointing his coffee mug our way thinking he's spot on and we just go along with it.

"Yes. Yes we are...Ranger Wilkinson" Dean says, the three of us walking towards the ranger. "Well I will tell you exactly what I told her" The Ranger says. "Her brother filled out a back country permit. Saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the 24th. So it's not exactly a missing persons, now, is it?" Ranger Wilkinson states matter of factly, shrugging.

Dean shakes his head, agreeing with the Ranger. "Tell that girl to quit worrying. I'm sure her brothers just fine" The Ranger concludes. "We will sir" I say, nodding. Dean smirks saying "That Haley girls quite a pistol huh"

"That's putting it mildly" the sheriff says nonchalantly. "Actually. You know what would help us if I could how her a copy of that back country permit. You know, so she could see her brothers return date" Dean persuades the Ranger into giving us a copy of the permit.

Dean chuckles mischievously while we walk out of the station, I have an inkling why Dean wanted that girls address. "What are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asks his brother, annoyed. "What do you mean?" Dean follows up his question with a question.

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge. What are we waiting for?. Let's just go find Dad." Sam says obviously. "I mean, why even talk to this girl?" Sam says, still annoyed. "It wouldn't kill to look Sammy, maybe we should know what we're waking into before we actually walk into it" I defend. Dean shakes his head and we look at Sam like 'what the hell is wrong with you man?'

"What?" Sam asks, still annoyed "Since when are you all 'shoot first, ask questions later' anyways?" I ask Sam, crossing my arms over my chest. "Since now" he says bluntly. "Oh really?" Dean says looking slightly proud but I sigh shaking my head at him and Dean just shrugs.

________________________________

We park across of Haley girls house, pulling Quinn in besides Baby. Walking up to the door, I know three times and a very attractive girl opens the door eying us suspiciously. "You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam and y/n" Dean introduces us. "We're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. We wanted to ask you some questions about your brother Tommy" I say to her, hoping she'll let us in.

"Let me see some ID" she says plainly and Dean pulls his fake Ranger badge out and shows it to her. Looking it over, she hesitantly opens the screen door that was separating us and let's us in. She notices my Harley parked across the road.

"That yours?" She asks Dean. "Mine actually" I interject waving. "Nice bike" she smiles at me, I nod accepting the compliment. "Nice car too" She says eyeing Dean up and down. As Dean walks in he mouths "Oh my..." to me and Sam gawking Haley. I roll my eyes. I was checking her out too but Dean is not subtle whatsoever.

"So if Tommy's not due back for a while. How do you know something's wrong?" Sam asks Haley as we walk in. Haley walks out from the kitchen with a bowl in her hand, resting it on the table preparing for dinner "He checks in everyday by cell. He emails photos, stupid little videos. But we haven't heard anything in over three days now" She explains while mixing the bowl of food.

"Well maybe he can't get cell reception" Sam reasons plainly. "He's got a satellite phone too" Haley tells us. "Could he forget to check in?" Dean asks. "He wouldn't do that" Haley's other brother, Ben, speaks up before going back to eating his food. "Our parents are gone. It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other" Haley describes her home situation to us. Hmmm. Sounds familiar.

Sam clamps his hands in a gun formation, pointing to Haley's computer "Can I see the pictures he sent you?" He asks "Yeah sure". Haley then walks over to the computer, us following behind.

"That's Tommy" She goes into photos and shows us a picture of her brother, flipping through a couple. She lands on a video of Tommy. She starts the video for us to watch.

"Hey Haley. Day six. We're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine. Keeping safe. So don't worry okay? Talk to you tomorrow"

I could've swore I saw shadow moves for a split second in the background of the video right before it ends. I look at Sam, seeing a skeptical look on his face. Maybe he noticed it too. The video ends with Tommy reassuring his sister he's fine.

"Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge, first thing" Dean says smiling at Haley. "Then maybe I'll see you there" Haley says and me and the boys share a look.

"Look, I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning and I'm gonna find Tommy myself" She's determined alright. "I think I know how you feel" Dean relates to Haley's pending desire to protect her brother. His eyes trailing her up and down with admiration.

I feel a burn in my chest from seeing the way he looks at her but I ignore it.

"Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?" I change the subject.

________________________________

After leaving Haley's house, the boys and I decided we needed a beer before we go hiking so we stopped at a local dive bar. At a booth, me and Dean are sitting next to each other and Sam is sitting across from up

"So" Sam starts. "Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing there and they were never found" Sam explains, opening a case file handing it to me.

"Any before that?" Dean asks me, leaning in closer to look at the files. "Yeah. In 1982, eight different people all vanished the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack" Sam continues, pulling out the newspaper clip from the file, showing it to us.

I pull his laptop out of his bag and log into my email to review the video of Tommy that Haley was showing us.

"And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936. Every 23 years. Just like clockwork." Dean takes the newspaper from him as Sam rambles on.

"Okay fellas, watch this. Here's the clincher" I say turning the laptop for them to see. "I told Haley to send me that video of Tommy to my email. Check this out"

I show them three frames of the video where the shadow appears and disappears. "Do it again" Dean orders. Per his request, I show them again. "That's three frames. It's a fraction of a second. Whatever that this is, it can move" I explain, showing them the three frames over and over.

Dean nudges Sam's chest over the table. "Told you something weird going on" He retorts to his brother. Sam huffs saying "Yeah, I got one more thing. In '59, one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive" Sam explains and my heart grieves for the poor kid. Dealt a tough hand, damn.

"Is there a name?" I ask, looking at the file.

________________________________

Using the public records we found an address for the survivor. It wasn't too far from the bar actually.

"Look Rangers, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a- " Mr. Shaw, the kid who survived the attack in '59. Now in his 50's. He starts to go over the events before Sam cuts him off.

"Grizzly? That's what attacked them?" Sam asks as if he already knew the answer. Shaw hesitates, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He turns around nodding. "The other people that went missing that year...those bear attacks too?" Dean queries as steps forward.

"What about all the people that went missing this year?? Same thing?" I ask, stepping forward, pressing on Deans question. The cigarette still in Shaws mouth, he doesn't answer "If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it" Dean says trying to sway Shaw into talking.

"I seriously doubt that" Shaw says, doubting us. "Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did." Shaw continues somberly, sitting on his couch. All I see is a broken old man who witnessed something so young, he couldn't understand what it was.

"Mr Shaw...." Sam steps forward, taking a seat next to Shaw "...what did you see?" He asks, flashing him his classic puppy dog eyes that could sway anyone. "Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it though. A roar. Like, no man or animal I ever heard" Shaw breathes pausing with each sentence

"Did it come at night sir?" I ask Shaw gently, taking a seat next to Sam. "Outside your tent?" I add and he looks up. "It got inside our cabin" He says. "I was sleeping infront of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door....it unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that?" He asks the last part rhetorically. "I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents screaming"

"It killed them?" I ask. "Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive.....been asking myself that ever since" He says, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Did leave me this though" Pulling down his shirt by the collar, he shows us an old scar, like claw marks on his left shoulder.

Me and Sam pull back a bit after seeing it, shocked by the amount of damage. "There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon" Shaw says.

________________________________

"Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors if they want inside. They just go through the wall" Dean says as we're walking out of Shaws house and towards our vehicles. "So it's probably something else, something corporeal" Sam says and Dean looks at him like 'huh?'.

" 'Corporeal'. Excuse me professor" I snort. "Shut up" He says. "So what do you guys think?" Sam asks the both of us. "The claws, the speed that it moves...could be a Skinwalker" Dean spitballs. "Maybe a black dog?" I add.

"Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it" Dean mocks Sam's words earlier and he rolls his eyes.

We head over to Baby, digging through trunk. I hear something move behind me. Dean heard it too. Turning around we saw nothing so just shrugged in unison. Sam walks back and helps us fix the weapons. "We cannot let that Haley girl go out there" Sam says leaning down

"Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? She can't go because of a big scary monster?" Dean puts sarcastically, loading a gun handing it to me. "Yeah" Sam says and we look at him shocked. "Her brothers missing Sam. She's not just gonna sit this out. If we go with her, we can protect her and keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend" I try to reason with him but he just narrows his eyes at Metz

"So finding dads not enough?" He says annoyed, turning to Dean and slamming down the Impalas trunk to close it. "Now we gotta babysit too?" He scoffs and I'm taken back by his attitude, so is Dean. "What?" He asks us again, still annoying. I just scoff shaking my head and walk back to Quinn so we can head back to the motel. "Nothing" Dean cuts the conversation, dashing the duffel bag in Sam's chest.

________________________________

The next morning we head up to the woods. I left my bike back at the motel, partially to save gas but also because I didn't feel like driving her through the woods and then having to clean her after. I'll just pick her back up after the hunt is over.

Approaching our destination we see Haley, her other brother Ben and a man we don't recognize, an automatic gun in his hand, with them. This should be interesting. Dean parks his car along the path and we jump out. I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder.

My weapons are on my person but Dean has the appetite of a near-labour pregnant woman. So I made sure to pack snacks for all of us.

"You guys got room for three more?" Dean says as we jump out of the car and Haley seems surprised. "Wait, you wanna come with us?" She asks shocked. "Who're these guys?" The man with the gun asks. "Apparently, this is all the Park Service could muster up for the search and rescue" She says sarcastically, turning back to us.

"You're rangers?" The man asks, his eyes trailing over me, not convinced but I keep a confident look on my face. "That's right sir" I say confidently. "And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley asks, looking at our attire judgmentally.

I feel sorta underdressed now, me and Dean look down at our clothes while Sam walks forward. "Well, sweetheart I don't do shorts" he says cockily and I snicker. We walk past the group.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" The man says annoyed as we walk by. "It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt" he continues. "Believe me sir, I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help her find her brother, that's all" I say and we all begin walking.

Couple hours in walking through the woods, I decide to make conversation with the group. "So Roy, you said you did a little hunting" I ask the man who had the gun earlier, who later introduced himself as Roy. "Yeah, more than a little" he says cockily. "Uh-huh" I respond unimpressed.

"What kinda furry critters do you hunt?" I ask. "Mostly bucks, sometimes bears" He says nonchalantly. "Tell me, Bambi and Yogi ever hunt you back?" Dean asks sarcastically and Roy grabs me suddenly, pulling me back. Dean goes to step in but I put my hand up stopping him. Indicating I'm fine and he holts in place

"Watcha doing Roy?" I ask him calmly, face to face with him. He bends down, taking up a stick and runs it into the ground sharply. A bear trap clamps up and he looks back up at me smirking. "You should watch where you're stepping lady-ranger" he says. I purse my lips and smile ironically. "It was a bear trap" I say turning back to the group and then I continue walking as they follow.

"You didn't pack any provisions. She's carrying a duffel bag" Haley points out talking to Dean. "You're not rangers, so who the hell are you people?" She says hastily, grabbing Dean by his arm and turning him around. Me and Sam look at him, facially asking him if he's gonna give her the talk, and he nods. We walk past him.

"Sam and I are brothers. Y/N's our best friend. And we're looking for our father. He might be here, we don't know" He vaguely puts it. "I just figured that you and me, we're on the same boat"

"Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?" Haley calms down. "Well I'm telling you now" He says shrugging. "Besides, that's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman...ever. So we okay?" He adds and I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Okay" Haley hesitates but decides to trust him

"And what do you mean we didn't pack provisions?" I say smiling, pulling a bag of m&ms out of my bag handing it to Dean who looks excited like a child. He takes it, opens it and walks away eating it. Haley shakes her head smiling.

Later we're walking up a path. "This is it. Blackwater Ridge" Roy says. "What coordinates are we at?" Sam asks and Roy pulls out a GPS. "Thirty five at minus one eleven." Roy says. I walk up closer to Sam and Dean follows behind.

"You hear that?" Dean asks us. I nod and Sam says "Yeah. Not even crickets". "I'm gonna go take a look around" Roy says. "You shouldn't go off by yourself" I warn him. "That's sweet, cutie. Don't worry about me" He says cockily. I see Dean shift in his feet and his face tenses, glaring at Roy as he walks past us.

"Alright everybody stays together. Let's go" Dean orders.

"Haley! Over here!" We hear Roy yell from a little distance. We all run towards his voice and stumble upon a ransacked campsite. Blood on the tent. "Oh my god!" Haley exclaims. "Looks like a grizzly" Roy says. We investigate the site, claw marks on the tents.

Haley starts yelling her brothers name but Sam runs over, shushing her. She questions him why and he says. "Something might still be out there". We hear Dean calling for us and we follow his voice. We find him kneeling near a track of drag marks that randomly stop.

"The bodies were dragged from the campsite" Dean says quietly. "But here, the tracks just vanish. It's weird" he says getting back up looking around. "I'll tell you what...it's no Skinwalker or Black Dog" I tell them, headed back to the group.

Haley picks up a phone on the ground covered in blood. Dean walks closer to her. "Hey, he could still be alive" He tries to reassure him. We hear what sounds like a man screaming "HELLPPPP!" Alerting us all, we look towards the direction it was coming from. We all drop all our bags and burst into the direction where the man was screaming.

Weapons in hand, the screaming stops and no one is around. "It seemed like it was coming from around here, didnt it?" Haley asks the group. We all look around cautiously, now on edge. Something about that scream. It seemed weird. It didn't sound human.

"Everybody back to camp" Sam ordered and we all followed him back to where we dropped our stuff only to find its gone. "Our packs" Haley says. "So much for my GPS and satellite phone" Roy mutters, looking at the empty ground where our stuff was. Oh shit. I think I know what we're dealing with.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley asks, now frustrated. "It's smart. It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help" Sam explains but Roy butts in "You mean someone, some nut job out there, just stole all our gear" Roy says.

"I need to speak with you two, in private" I say when walk over to Sam and Dean. We go a little distance out of earshot. "Okay, let me see your dad's journal" I say and John gives me John's journal. I open it and flip to the page where I knew I saw a creature called a "Wendigo". It's profile almost exactly like what we could be dealing with.

"Alright, check this out fellas" I give them the book with the drawing of a Wendigo, showing it to them. "Oh come on" Dean scoffs, not believing it. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west" he says but Sam agrees with me.

"No she's got a point, think about it Dean. The claws, the way it can mimic a human voice..." Sam defends me. "Great. Well then this is useless" Dean says, holding up his gun. I hand him back his dad's journal. I sigh, walking back to the campsite, "We gotta get these people to safety" Sam tells us.

"Alright, listen up. It's time to go. Things have gotten more complicated" Sam orders. "What?" Haley asks but Roy, once again, butts in. "Kid don't worry, whatever's out there. I think we can handle it"

"It's not me I'm worried about, if you shoot this thing you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now." Sam says, getting agitated at Roy's failure to comply. "One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders" Roy retorts.

"Relax!" "Chill out!" Me and Dean bark at Roy simultaneously. "We never should've let you come out here in the first place alright. I'm trying to protect you" Sam argues back. "You? Protect me?!" Roy says in disbelief. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight" He gets up in Sam's face.

"Oh yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you. And it's gonna hunt you down unless you get your stupid sorry ass outta here" Sam says and Roy just laughs in his face thumping his chest. "You know you're crazy right" Roy says laughing in his face.

Sam snaps "Yeah!? You ever hunt a Wen-" before he could finish his sentence, me and Dean push him back from Roy before he could say anything else. "Chill out!" Dean calms his brother down. I've had enough, I turn to Roy gritting my teeth.

"You know you're a measly cocky old son of a bitch!" I yell in his face. He smirks at me and Dean pulls me back before I could put my hands on him and Haley yells. "Guys! Stop. Everybody just stop!" We all simmer down a bit.

"Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him." She says determinate. Dean looks at us before saying "It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day...but an unbelievable one at night. We'll never beat it. Not in the dark" He walks past Haley "We need to settle in and protect ourselves" and she asks "How?"

The sun has set. We gave the group the talk about monsters and explained the Wendigo situation. Now Dean and I are drawing Anasazi symbols for protection on the ground.

"One more that that's...?" Haley asks me while I'm drawing the symbol. "Anasazi symbols.. it's for protection. The Wendigo can't cross over them" I explain and Roy being the jackass he is just laughs. "Nobody like a skeptic Roy" I narrow my eyes at him, getting up from the ground.

Me and Dean go over to Sam sitting on a log. "You wanna tell us what's going on in that freaky head of yours?" He asks his little brother. "Guys-" Sam starts but I cut him off. "No, you're not fine" I cross my arms over my chest. "You're like a powder keg man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?" Dean adds.

"Dads not here" Sam says almost disappointed. "I mean that much we know for sure right. He would've left us a message, a sigh. Right?"

"Yeah you're probably right" Dean agrees and I nod. "To tell you the truth, I don't think Dads ever been to Lost Creek" Dean says honestly. "Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find dad. I mean why are we still here?" Sam says agitated, throwing a stick on the ground angrily.

Dean gets up and sits in-front of Sam, next to y/n. "This is why" he places his hand on his father journal. Pointing at it while he talks. "This book. This is Dads single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it onto us. I think he wants to pick up where he left off." Dean lectures. "You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business"

Sam shakes his head. "Im sorry Dean but It makes no sense. Why doesn't he just call us? Why doesn't he tell us what he wants? Tell us where he is?" I interject. "I don't know. But the way I see it...Dads given us a job to do and I intend to do it" Dean says.

"Dean. No. We gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer.....it's the only thing I can think about" Sam says shaking his head, tears welling up in his eyes and my heart yearns for him. "Alright Sam, we'll find them, I promise" I say gently, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me. You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger...you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you" Dean advises his younger brother. "You gotta have patience man" I add.

"How do you guys do it? How does dad do it?" He asks us. Dean looks over to Haley and Ben. Well, for one, them. I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little more bareable" Dean says. "I'll tell you what helps me" I say, taking my hand off his shoulder. "Killing as many evil sons of bitches i possibly can" I say and Dean smirks at me. "Damn straight" he says, nudging my shoulder with his.

"Help meeee!!" Screams a voice in the distance. We all get up, cocking our guns. "Please!!!" It yells again. "Helllpppp!!" It sounds more strained this time. "It's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool. Stay put" Dean warns the group.

"Inside the magic circle" Roy says in a mocking tone. "Shut it Roy" I huff. "Help!!!" It screams again. "Help me!!! Plea-AHHHH" it cuts off and we hear a roar before it starts screaming. "Okay that's no grizzly" Roy says, now on board. "Ya think" I snap at him.

Haley reassures her little brother he'll be alright but they're scared, which is valid. We hear a growling behind us and a shadow moves. Haley screams at this.

"It's here" I say. Roy tries shooting. We hear it scream. "I hit it" He says, thinking he killed it, he runs out the circle. "Roy no! Roy!" I yell after him but he doesn't listen. "Stay here!" Dean tells Haley and Ben. Me and the boys run behind Roy. But he's nowhere to be found.

It's sunrise and we're all sitting by the abandoned campsite. Dean is checking out the claw marks left behind by the Wendigo on the trees. "I don't...I mean these types of things. They aren't supposed to be real" Haley says, skeptical.

"I wish I could tell you different" Dean says walking over and sitting next to me. "How do we know it's not out there watching us?" Haley asks. "We don't. But we're safe for now" I say honestly. "How do you guys know about this stuff?" She asks us. "Kinda runs in the family" Dean says.

"Hey, so we've got half a chance in the daylight" Sam says, walking back to the campsite. "And I for one...wanna kill this evil son of a bitch" He says. Me and Dean nod smirking. "Well hell you know we're in"

We go through John's journal and explain what a Wendigo is.

"Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours' " Sam reads from the journal. "They're also hundreds of years old and each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, other times a frontiersman, or a miner, or a hunter." Dean continues.

"How does a man turn into one of these things?" Haley asks. "During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. He becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp" I explain. "Like the Donner Party" Haley's brother says.

"Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities: speed, strength, immortality.." Sam adds. "If you eat enough of it, over years you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry" I say.

"So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?" Haley asks. The boys and I share a worried look. Dean says "You're not gonna like it". "Tell me" Haley insists. "More than anything, a Wendigo knows how to last longe winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it's awake, it keeps its victims alive...it stores them. So it can feed whenever it wants" Dean explains.

"Look hon, if your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden and safe. And we gotta track it back there" I say. "And then how do we stop it?" She asks. "Well, guns are useless. So are knives" Dean says. "Basically.." I say, holding up a liquor bottle, lighter and a cloth. "...we gotta torch the sucker" I say, handing the Molotov cocktail over to Dean.

We make our way through the woods with Dean leading the way. "Dean. Y/N" Sam calls us, looking up at the claw marks on the trees. "What is it?" I ask. We look around at the marks on the trees. They're too...perfect. Somethings not right.

"You know, I was thinking that those claw prints, so clear and distinct...they were almost too easy to follow" Sam says superstitiously. All of a sudden we hear growling, the bushes rustle around us. And then Haley screams, what looks like a body falls on the ground next to her. Roy's body.

Sam goes to check on her. Dean and I rush over to Roy's body to check if he's somewhat alive. "Dean, his necks broken" I say and the growling won't stop. "Okay run run run! Go go go!" We all run always from the area, deeper into the woods. Ben trips and falls so Sam and I run back to help him up. "It's okay kid, I got you" He help him up and then run to catch up with Haley and Dean.

We hear Haley scream again. "Haley!!" Her brother yells. Sam finds the my lighter that I gave Dean on the ground, showing it to me "DEAN!!!!" I yell.

________________________________

Hours again of walking, no sign of Dean or Haley. I'm worried something happened to Dean...and Haley obviously. "So it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy" Ben asks us.

"Honestly, I think cuz Roy shot at it. He pissed it off" Sam said. "They went this way" Ben said suddenly. "How do you know?" I ask approaching him and he hand me an M&M. I chuckle a bit and show Sam. Dean, you slimy motherfucker. He smiles a bit, sighing relieved, "It's better then breadcrumbs" I say throwing the candy aside and we all follow the trail.

The candy trail led to a tunnel opening labeled 'Warning! Danger! Do Not Enter! Extremely Toxic Material!'

Sam, Ben and I enter it, flashing our lights along the tunnel. We hear the growling again, Sam and I pull Ben to the side. We see the Wendigo walking out through the tunnel, Ben whimpers terrified and I place my hand over his mouth shushing him.

We walk deeper into the tunnel side by side. Not realizing we stepped on a wooden opening, it creaks a bit before caving in and the three of us all through into a pit. Ben jumps back into my arms after seeing the skulls of....well....the Wendigos menu. "It's okay, it's okay" I comfort him, calming him down.

We look over to see Dean and Haley tied to the wall. Sam and I instantly rush over to Dean instantly while Ben runs over to Haley. "Dean?? Hey Dean wake up" I say shaking him. "Come on Dean" Sam shakes his brother. And he grunts, cringing in pain.

"You okay?" I place my hands on his face, gently shaking him again. "Yeah" he forces out, still in pain.  "Haley. Haley. Wake up. Wake up" Ben calls out shaking his sister to wake up. I pull out my butterfly knife in my combat boots, cutting Dean down while Sam supports his weight. "Gotcha" Sam says, helping Dean down.

I place one of Deans arm around my shoulder and Sam takes his other, holding him up. "I thought it killed you" Sam said as we rest Dean down, still grunting in pain. "Are you sure you're alright charming??" I ask him, my heart hurting to see him in pain. "Yeah princess I'm fine. Where is it?" He asks about the Wendigo. "It's gone for now" Sam says.

We didn't notice until Haley went into a corner and started sobbing. Then we see, Tommy in a dark corner tied up just like Dean and Haley were. "Tommy....Tommy" Haley sobs. She puts her hands on his face and he gasps for air surprising us all. "Cut him down" She says. She holds him up supporting his weight and I flip my butterfly knife open, rushing over to cut him down.

The three siblings share a tearful reconciliation. "Check it out" Dean says smirking, holding up three flare guns. "Those'll work." Sam and I say in unison smiling a bit as Dean twirls one of guns in his fingers.

We all make our way through the tunnel. Haley and Ben holding up a weak Tommy. The flare guns in our possession. The Wendigo growls, the sound coming nearer and nearer. The boys and I cock our guns at the direction of the growls. "Looks like someone's home for supper" Dean says. "We'll never outrun it." Haley says. The boys and I look at each other, a silent conversation with our eyes.

"You fellas thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask them. "Yeah I think so" Sam says and Dean nods. "Alright listen to me. Stay with Sam and Y/N, they're gonna get you out of here" Dean orders them. "No I'm coming with you" I insist. "Over my dead body. Stay with Sam" He instructs me and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Order me like that again and I'll kill you before the Wendigo does us. Now can it and move your butt" I stand my ground. He smirks at me, obliging.

"What're you gonna do?" Haley asks Dean and he winks at her. I feel a thump in my chest but I ignore it.

Dean's POV

(A/N: just giving a tiny insight of Deans mind😉)

"No I'm coming with you" Y/N insists. "Over my dead body. Stay with Sam" I instruct her, praying she'll listen for once but she just narrows her eyes at me and I internally sigh. This woman will be the death of me one day I swear.

"Order me like that again and I'll kill you before the Wendigo does us. Now can it and move your butt" She whisper yells at me in a commanding tone, standing her ground. God she's so hot when she's all business no play. Wait. What? Not the time Dean!

Smirking I oblige. "What're you gonna do?" Haley asks. I turn to her and wink attempting to reassure her. Me and Y/N split from the group to lure the Wendigo out.

"It's chow time, you freaky bastard!!" I yell. "Yeah that's right! Bring it on baby! I taste good!!" Y/N yells as we go deeper into the tunnel. Oh I bet she does. Stop it Dean!

We move along the path and I yell. "Hey! Hey, you want some white meat bitch!"

"I'm right here sexy! Come and get me!! You know you want me!!" Y/N yells.

Third Person POV

Meanwhile Y/N and Dean are baiting the Wendigo. Sam, Haley, Ben and Tommy hear the growling. Realizing they need to make use of their time and get out, Sam tells Haley "Get them out of here"

"Sam, no" She goes to protest but he cuts her off. "Go. Go!" He commands them and they hesitantly go. Sam moves towards the growling, hiding behind a wall. "Come on...come on." He whispers thinking the Wendigo is on the opposite side, only to hear footsteps next to him.

He turns his head and the Wendigo roars in his face. He fires his flare gun at him, missing, hitting the wall. He runs towards the direction the group headed. Haley hears the shot fired and yells "Sam!!!"

"Come on. Hurry. Hurry! Hurry! Let's go!" He rushes them to get out but the Wendigo gains on them. It ends up cornering them. "No! Damn it! Get behind me" Sam uses his body as a human shield to protect them.

The Wendigo approaches them, an animalistic roar leaving his inhumane mouth. "Hey!" Dean and Y/N appear behind it. Both firing at it. It screams in agony before bursting into flames infront of all their eyes. Dropping dead on the floor.

"Not bad huh" Dean says cockily, making Sam and Haley smile.

________________________________

Back at the Ranger Station, paramedics and deputies are outside, paramedics loading Tommy up. While Ben gets questioned by the cops. Y/N and Sam next to him. "So the bear came back again after you yelled at it?" Ranger Wilkinson asked. Using the mental script Y/N told him to say to the cops.

"That's when it circled the campsite. The grizzly must've weighed 800-900 pounds" Ben says fluidly. "We'll go after it at first light" The cop half promises. Y/N looks over to see Dean and Haley walking together besides the cars. They're out of earshot so she can't hear their conversation.

"So really, I don't know how to thank you" Haley says to Dean. He gives her his classic shit eating grin and Haley scoffs. "Must you cheapen the moment" she says. "Yeah" Dean says smiling, giving her a flirtatious look.

Looking at the body language, Y/N assumed Dean made a pass at Haley and just turned back. The smile Dean gave Haley made her melt a bit but it wasn't directed to her.

Ben, Sam and Y/N walk over to them after the cops are done with their questions. Haley leans over and kisses Dean on his cheek. Y/N turns her head away trying not to look. She felt her stomach flip but doing what her stubborn ass always does. She ignored it.

"I hope you find your father" Haley says sincerely. She turns and wraps her arm around the back of Bens neck from the side. "Thanks Sam. Thanks Y/N" she says gratefully and they nod.

The trio lean against the hood of the Impala, looking on as the load up onto the ambulance. "Man I hate camping" Y/N grumbles. "Me too" Sam seconds. "Damn straight" Dean also agrees. Dean turns to his brother and best friend. "You guys know we're gonna find Dad right?"

"Yeah, I know" Sam says not convinced. Y/N just nods, frowning a bit. "But in the meantime....I'm driving" Sam says smirking. Y/N snickers at Deans hesitant face looking down at his keys. He throws it up in the air for Sam to catch but Y/N jumps up catching it.

"Hey!" Sam exclaims amused. Dangling the keys in the air, Y/N says. "It's my shift boys, you can take over when we get back to the motel and I get my bike Sammy" She winks at them, strutting over to the drivers seat. Dean laughs hysterically at this, partially due to Sam's face.

He looks like a 5 year old who just got his candy stolen. Dean doesn't mind her driving his car though. She thought him and Sam how to drive Quinn after her dad thought her how to. The trio get into Baby, Dean sitting shotgun and Sam taking the backseat, pouting. Y/N starts Baby's engine, revving it, she looks over at Dean smirking and he winks at her. Putting the car in gear and they're off.

Authors Note:

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!

Hi hello! So I forgot to mention that Y/N's mom and dad were childhood friends. I added it to the prologue. You can reread it, it's in the flashback of her leaving and going off on her own. Please excuse my lack of planning, I'm fairly new to this and just learning as I go.

Xoxo

#spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean and sam #dean x reader #sam and dean #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Belly Dancer - 1

Belly Dancer - 1

Harry sat next to Michael on the leather couch with four girls now all around them, Michael was his right hand and his best friend. They are there for each other, in the happinesses and sorrows. They were friends since the day they first met when they only were thirteen years old.

And for that reason, when Michael noticed that Harry was burnt out from all the work he has to go through every day, same routine, same shit, he thought that it would be a good idea for them to see something different. Michael has heard of you through some friends that were like 'wtf did we just watch?' and couldn't shut up about how good you were on that stage. And, knowing Harry, he knew that he would be very pleased to see a different kind of woman.

A woman he will never something like her.

A girl put her around Harry and started mumbling something sexy in his ear, but he ignored her and kept drinking from his glass and huffed.

"Why the long face, H? I told you to leave this fucking attitude out." Michael scoffed, drinking from his cup.

"I am okay, Mike." Harry says.

"No shit? You sure look like it." Michael commented sarcastically.

"What do you want from me now? Want me to put a fucking smile on my face?"

"Yes, please."

"I don't know what I should do with the upcoming deal with the Italians."

"Leave it, H. Not now, we're here to have fun and you look like an ungrateful kid." Michael said, he was sick of Harry and his attitude. He knows that Harry has a lot on his shoulders, but he doesn't seem to know how to let go.

"You know what? Fuck you! I'm out." Harry says angrily and stands up and just like that like it was a cue or something, music blasted through speakers.

Weird music to his ears. He has never heard something like that before, but he didn't care at that moment. Until he head an announcement through the speakers, "The moment you've all been waiting for. Y/N!"

Michael grabbed Harry from his arm and dragged him to the glass wall that showed the stage. Harry took away his arm from his friend and stopped in his tracks.

A woman.

A woman in tanned skin and long hair stood on the stage down there, with golden abaya that showed off her beautiful legs, cleavage, and of course her belly. She had some glitter all over her body. She had a golden anklet. That woman wore a short scarf on her head that only covered a part of her hair.

She swayed her belly up and down in total excitement with such expertise. She used her hair as a tool just like that long cane in her hand that she used to dance with. What really blew him away was when she pulled her back down while standing and held the cane with one hand playing with it all over her body without it touching her.

He has never seen something like that before. He has never loved something so different like that. Her hair made him want to pull on it while fucking her. He wanted to know how she could sway and pop her waist and belly on his dick.

A girl comes next to Harry and whispers, "I could do that, too."

He ignored her and kept his eyes on the girl before him, not leaving his eyes off of her even for a second.

When you were done, you were already used to the hard applause, you returned back to your room at the back. Your assistant got you your mantle and covered you.

You sat on your chair in front of the wide mirror and began cleaning off your makeup after taking off some of the bling you had on your face. Your assistant, Angela, says, "You were amazing today, y/n."

You smile to her and say, "Thank you so much, honey. We need to get ready for our last performance in about another half hour. Can you get me my next suit, please? This abaya is not so comfortable."

"You're gonna wear it now? Isn't it too early?" She asks but does what she's told anyways.

"No, it isn't. I like putting makeup on after wearing my suit, so my makeup doesn't stain my suits." You answer her, drinking water from your bottle.

"Fair enough." Just when she finishes her sentence, you hear a knock on your door.

"Who is it?" She asks before opening the door slightly so whoever outside can't see you.

"Oh yeah of course." You hear her say and opens the door.

Your eyes are still fixed on yourself in the mirror, until you see in it a tall man with beautiful green eyes standing at your door. His eyes also are fixed on you. You turn your head around and look at him, asking in a flat tone, "What?"

"I am Harry. Harry Styles." He says not looking away.

"Okay? I don't do selfies so get out of here." You turn your head again and continue to take off your makeup.

"I'm not here for a selfie. I'm here to tell you that we want an exclusive dance in the VIP lounge." He says, confidently.

"Usually, Sean is the one to tell me that." Sean is the manager of the club, so that doesn't make sense that Harry is the one to tell you that.

"He knows, but I asked him to let me be the one to tell you that." He says like he orders you.

"Well then, no one can say no to work. But, I want Sean to ask me, not some one I don't know." You say, you were really bothered by his smirk that he had all the time he was talking to you so you thought you should be as annoying as he is.

"And what if he doesn't?" He asks with a wider smirk.

You turn your head and raise a brow, "Then no."

"You sure are a tough one." He comments so you stand up and close the door in his face with a bang enough for Angela to jump.

You wear your next suit, not thinking of that bastard anymore until you hear another knock on the door. You huff and tell Angela, "If he is the same fucker tell him to go find someone to fuck him."

But that was Sean, an old man with grey hair and blue eyes. He comes inside and says to you, "Y/N, we want you to skip the second performance to the public and keep it in the VIP lounge for today."

"Sure," You smile at him, "That fucker will be there?"

He giggles and says, "Don't say that as you don't know who he is."

"I don't care, Sean. You shouldn't have let him come in here, we've talked about this. No one is allowed here."

"I know, but we can't say no to him."

"And why is that?"

"Because he's Harry Freaking Styles. He's one of the most powerful men in the whole country so it's not so easy to tell him go fuck yourself without getting a bullet in your head."

"Whatever. I'll be up there in 10 minutes."

You weren't afraid, you are not afraid. You have spent your life afraid of everything and since you took your first step in this country you've swore to god that you'll never let fear in your heart ever again. You knew that Harry was handsome and hot that's for sure, but you weren't going to suck his balls just because he's handsome. If anything, he should be the one sucking yours, if you had any.

You stood right outside the VIP lounge and asked the guy in charge of it to stop the lights until you go in. That was something you asked for every time you were asked to do a private dance in the VIP lounge, you had to surprise them.

You stood in the middle of the room with the lights still off, and raised your arms above your head and raised one side of your waist and then the lights are on again.

The music popped in the lounge, and you see that same smirky face eating you with his eyes. Taking in the new suit you had on, it was silky that showed off your whole back and belly, not so modest. And he loved every inch of it.

He sat there next to another guy with the same expression she got every time someone sees her in one of her suits. You danced like always but with some differences. You made a circle with your waist and interacted with them more than the public, you made your way to the couch they were on and for a second Harry thought you were coming for him, but you took the hands of Michael and made him stand up so he could dance with you.

Michael couldn't dance like you, for sure, but he tried to sway his body and couldn't focus on anything else, especially you leaned your back to his chest. Michael couldn't look to anything else, not even to Harry who was biting his lip from both lust and jealousy.

You kept dancing until the song ended. Michael and the bartender applauded hard enough to show you how much they loved it. Some of the girls out there were so pissed off at you for taking all the attention.

Harry, on the other hand, stood up and asked you, "Why don't you come with me, love?

"Honey, I don't like you." You said.

You made eye contact with Michael and smiled, "I hope to see you soon, cutie."

Then you were out of the lounge.

Harry sat on the couch again, with a smirk on his face.

--

Just when you were about to step foot out of the club you see that fucker again with the same smirk you want to slap it out of his face. You were in white tank top and a short leather skirt. Angela was right beside with a big bag in her hand you when you stopped to look at that smug.

"If you think you can kidnap me, then you should know that's a bad idea." You spat.

"And why is that, love?"

"Because I'll chop off your goddamn dick." You were violent. That's for sure.

"Oh, that could hurt." He smirked again and took a step forward towards you.

"What do you want from me, Harry Styles?"

"I want a private dance, only for me."

"Give it to him," You ordered Angela who handed him a card. "This is the number you can call if you want a private dance."

He looked at the card and then at you, "I really like you."

"And I don't care."

You said before walking towards your car. You drove away and you could still see him in the mirror not taking his eyes off of your car. What was wrong with him?

--

"Harry Styles?! Thank god you're still alive, you should apologize you little bitch." Jessica said.

You were at the apartment you shared with Jessica, you make enough money to buy a whole house now, but you didn't want to leave Jessica, she was your first and only friend when you came to America to seize your opportunity. She had your back when you couldn't find a job, until she finally helped you get one.

Her cousin was one of the three people who own the club and the theatre, and she asked her to give you a chance. From that moment you became famous enough for people to come every day to the club to just watch you dance.

So, you wouldn't just leave Jessica just because you make enough money now. And, now that you're sitting at the dining table next to Jessica at 3 PM eating, you thought that you should tell her about that freak you danced for yesterday.

"Who is he anyways?" You asked, stuffing your face with food.

"All I heard from Lola -Her cousin- is that he is not just a business man, he is powerful."

"And that was enough for you to tell me that I'm lucky that I'm still alive?"

"No, but those powerful people are intimidating."

"I'm not afraid."

"Y/N, I know you now, I know that you fear no one and nothing, but you need to chill a bit."

"Why should I? because he could kill me or something?"

"I hope not, but just become more flexible, maybe he was amazed by your dancing and liked you enough to get you in his bed."

"He asked me to go with him, Jess! I don't sleep around, and you know that, I have to have this long face for anyone that thinks for a second they can stuff their faces in my titties." You said and she bursts into laughing at the top of her lungs.

"Okay, I know that, but-" She was interrupted by your phone ringing, it was Sam, the one you hired to take care of any business outside the club.

"Sorry, Jess," You apologized before taking the phone, "Yes, Sam, how're you? What? HOW MUCH!? Okay, today 11 PM, set everything up with Sean, I don't want him to be all grumpy. Bye." And with that you hung up.

"What was that all about?" She asked drinking her juice.

You looked at her wide eyed, "That fucker asked Sam if I could dance at the parties he has tonight and for the upcoming week. He wants me for an entire week to stay at his mansion up the hill in a private part of it."

"Wow, the same fucker we were just talking about?" She asked and you nodded.

--

You had to go, there was no way out, the money was good. You packed clothes and suits, you were going to stay there for about a week so you could use as many suits as you wanted. Angela was sat right beside you on the passenger seat in your car as you drove to his mansion, Sam had sent you a location. The drive was silent, and you weren't nervous, you'd been doing this for over a year now so you were confident. You drove with one hand until you pulled over right in front of this giant mansion. Angela gasped when she put her eyes on it, but you rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car to get your bags out. Angela followed you without taking her eyes off of the mansion, she helped you with the bags with her mouth open.

"Fuck it, snap out of it, Angela!" You said, walking towards the mansion.

A man in a black suit was standing at the door of the mansion with a smile on his face, you smiled back. When you got closer to him he took the bag from you, "Hello, I'm Jack, I'll be at your service for your whole stay."

"Hello, Jack. I'm Y/N and this is Angela, my assistant."

"I know you Ms.Y/L/N, Mr. Styles told me about you. He was very excited to have you." He said letting you in the mansion.

It was huge, white. Everything was white except from the art hanging on the walls and some cushions. Jack escorted you to the elevator in the mansion and pressed on the higher floor.

"This floor is gonna be yours for your whole stay, it has its own kitchen and bathrooms so you're going to be as comfortable as possible." He said and you couldn't help but smile at Angela who couldn't close her mouth.

The elevator doors open and you step inside to see a wide floor with an open kitchen and two bedrooms with a large living room.

"Here is the kitchen as you see, it has everything you need to make a meal, but if you need anything you can always call me and I'll be at your service." He walked you to the living room, "This is the living room as you see. There's TV, mini-fridge, and everything you might need."

You nodded at him as he walked you to a room and opened the door to a large room, "This is our room?" You asked.

"No, ma'am, this is Angela's room, it's got everything you might need, miss." He told her and she took a step inside with wide smile on her face.

He walked you to another room, opened the door and FUCK. It was huge with a king-sized bed. The room had cream paint and white sheets, a couch and TV.

"Here is your room. You also have a private bathroom besides the one down the hall. Again Ms. Y/L/N, if you ever need anything you can call me. Mr. Styles has strict instructions of us taking care of you two."

You smiled at him thankfully, but couldn't help but ask, "Where is Harry?"

"We don't know that, unfortunately, but I'm sure he's gonna be here at 12 AM. He may need to speak to you about the themes of the parties he's throwing here." He said letting go of your bags.

You nodded at him.

"I should go now, here is this little thing I can't remember the name of, you press a button and you can speak to me directly." He pointed at this thing on the wall that looked like the thermostats.

You nodded again and thanked him before he left. You couldn't help but notice that your room has a balcony, you love balconies. Wherever you were, you could leave everything and stay in the balcony looking at everything around you.

When you entered the balcony, you could see a wide, long green grass, it almost looked like a park, except from the large pool that was in the middle.

You sighed.

You don't know why, but everything was too much for you, life was too much.

You felt alone even if there were a hundred people around you, and when you were alone, you felt empty. Maybe it's because you swore that no one can take any place in your heart again. No one can get this luxury of breaking your heart. You had to stand on your jelly feet and throw everything out of your life.

You remembered that day you ran away from your past and came here, like it was yesterday. But, it wasn't yesterday, and you must stay on your feet standing tall.

You heard a ringing sound coming from your room, it was this thing on the wall, you pressed on it and you heard the voice of Jack, "Ms. Y/L/N, would you like me to make you a meal? You must be starving."

"Jack, please call me y/n, I'm not used to Ms. whatever, and yes please, I'm sure Angela is starving. Thanks."

--

Everything was fine, you stayed in your room watching tv and gossiping with Jessica about Harry's mansion. That was until you hear ringing and Jack's voice said, "Y/N, Mr. Styles is waiting for you by the pool."

You stood up, get dressed in one of your huge sweatshirts and short black shorts, you pull your hair up in a messy bun. You step outside of your room, and find Angela eating popcorn on the couch in the living room.

"If you keep eating those, you're gonna pop like them." You smirked at her and she stuck her tongue out to you.

You were in the elevator and making your way towards the pool, it was kind of a long walk until you could see his tall figure in a black suit standing in front of the pool drinking wine. There were tables and chairs but he was standing focusing on the water.

You stood there for a moment before making your way to one of the chairs by a table and sit, putting your leg over the other.

"Look who it is, Mr. Gatsby!" You smirked.

He turned around and smiled at you, his eyes could revive people from death. He had a glass of wine in his hand just like you suspected.

“Mr. Gatsby? Why did you call me that?” He asked as he took a seat on one of the chairs on the same table.

“Mr. Gatsby was handsome, he had a rare smile, just like you.” You said with no smile.

“I take that as a complement, should I?”

“I don’t care, honey, I’m spelling facts. I like telling people what I’m thinking about them. Honesty is the key as you say here.” You bite on your bottom lip.

“I appreciate that this is the thing on your mind, not something else.”

“Well, yesterday I thought you were a dick head, well, I still think so, but I appreciate what you did.”

“What exactly?”

“That you didn’t cross the line even more, and called Sam instead of getting my number and call me.”

“And how could I get your number, love?” He smirked; he loved how smart you sounded.

“Oh, come on! We’re adults here, we both know that you could get my number, easily.”

“I like you even more now.”

That was true, he loved smart women, and you were smart and challenging.

“Let’s get back to business, you booked me for a week. Jack told me that you wanted to discuss the themes of your parties. Here I am.”

He hums and put his glass on the table, “Do you want to drink something?” He asked you as he looked at his smart watch.

“Tea with milk, please, no sugar.” You answered without expression.

He smiled and then got more comfortable in his chair as one of his servants came with everything on like he was standing at the back of your head.

You thanked the servant and took off your leg from the other out of respect, that was how you were raised, and Harry noticed it.

“Okay, love, we have five parties, each of them may include different people, each of them has a different theme, in each of them I want you to perform two times.” He said as he poured more wine in his glass. “Your tea is getting cold.”

“I don’t like my hot drinks hot enough to burn my tongue.” You smiled at him politely, “I need to know each theme so I can choose the right suit. Also, can I choose my own songs? I can’t dance to some rap or whatever the fuck you people listen to.”

He laughed, he thought you were funny, “Of course, darling, I’ll tell you everything you need to know and you can choose your own songs.”

He looked down and saw that you have an anklet on, different from the one you wore at the club, he fucked you in his head with the anklet on enough times already.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked, he was surprised actually that he was being polite, maybe because he saw that you were so polite that he couldn’t be a dick head anymore with you.

“Of course.”

“Where are you from?”

You smiled to yourself; you hear that question too many times.

“I am not from here, I immigrated to the USA two years ago. It doesn’t matter where I’m from, I want to forget all about it.” You stopped smiling and looked him in the eyes, those green eyes, “Now, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Yeah, anything you want, beauty.” He answered.

“Could you taste my tea to see if it’s not so hot so I could drink it?”

He smiled at you, he didn’t know what to think of you, you were a lot of things all at once. He saw you being so violent to him, so polite to the servants, potty tongue, yet so cute that you can’t take a hot drink. He was curious.

He did what you asked him to, it was now cold enough for you to drink, he saw that you sipped from the same place he sipped from. You were beautiful before him, your hair is shiny, your eyes are wide enough for him to see that color of them, your skin seemed so soft, your smell stuck up his nose. You dragged him to you, not even realizing it.

He coughed, trying to shake away the tension building in his pants, “You’ll get to know each theme the day before the party. If you want to get new suits you could only reach to Jack and he’ll do whatever you want.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, if those are your rules then so be it. I have my own designer to take care of that. I need to go inside to sleep before tomorrow, Harry. Could you, please, tell me what is the theme of tomorrow’s party?” You rolled your eyes.

“Black. Only black is allowed.” He kind of ordered.

“Okay then.” You drank the last bit of your tea and stood up, you walked your way to the mansion, but only a few steps until you stopped and looked around and said, “I don’t get disgusted easily. Good night, Gatsby.”

You smiled and left.

--

Harry sat in his bed with a girl sleeping next to him right after he gave her a good fuck thinking of you. Gatsby. Your face while smiling stuck in his head enough to take in every little detail, beauty, and flaw. He has never seen anyone so intimidating, yet so polite.

He felt like he wanted to fuck you, yes. But he felt something more. Curiosity.

He stood up in his boxers, looking at the ceiling, you were right on the floor above him, he wondered what you were doing.

--

Next morning you called Jack and asked him if there was a gym nearby, he told you that there was one on the second floor, so you got in your tight leggings and sports bra that hugged your breasts perfectly, having big ones made life harder for you.

You pulled your hair in a bun and brought your water bottle with you and went down to the second floor and explored until you found a room full of gym equipment.

You did some stretching first, and then you heard the door open as you were about to do some squats in front of the huge mirror. You saw Harry getting in, wearing black shorts and totally bare chest.

“Good morning, love.” He said and took a look at you.

“Good morning.” You responded before minding your own business.

You didn’t look at him much, you stopped yourself from doing that, you completely knew that these kinds of men are the ones that get girls throwing themselves at all the time. And that was not something you intended to be, you knew that you were special, and no man could ever make you fall at his feet no matter how hot he was.

“How many languages do you speak, y/n?” He asked out of no where and you didn’t bother look at him, but you could see him warming up.

“That is a random question. I speak English, Arabic, and Italian.” You answered with a blank face and held some weights before going on with your squats again.

“Wow, that is incredible!” he said looking at you, he never let his eyes away anyways. He noticed that you didn’t look at him not even for once, that kind of bothered him.

You didn’t answer to that, and he felt like you hated his guts and he had no idea why. He got closer to you and stood behind you, “You’re doing that wrong baby.”

He put his hands on the weights you carried and that’s when you stood again and turned around with the weights still in your hands, you felt like you could hit him with them.

“Let’s set things straight, Harry. I know you like me; I don’t like you. You bother me, I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen and I don’t need an English boy to tell me how to do things. I don’t like men who always get what they want, because I don’t get what I want. Does that make me a weird, envious bitch? Maybe yes. But I don’t care. Stay out of my way, I’m not looking for a fuck.” You said and lift the weights to his chest and he automatically held them.

With that, you left the gym room and he stood there with an open mouth.

--

“Harry, what is this fucking sudden obsession over a dancer?” Michael asked while sitting in the chair by Harry’s desk.

“It’s not an obsession, Mike. That girl makes my head boil!” He shouted lighting a cigarette.

“Why’s that? She’s just not into you, she told you clearly that she’s not looking forward to getting fucked by you, that’s all. Can’t you really accept that?”

“It’s not that, Mike. FUCK!” He threw the cigarette in the ashtray and stood up, “She wouldn’t even look at me, like I’m a fucking rat or something. Does she really think I am that bad person?”

“Maybe it’s because you gave her the feeling that she was some fuck toy.”

“She is not! I really want to get to know her, she sounds so fucking smart, Mike. Apart from her being incredibly sexy, she sounds like she knows everything about me which she doesn’t. I just want her to talk to me, even look at me.”

“Are you having a crush on her?”

“Isn’t that obvious, you little fuck?”

“Already? It’s only been three days.” Michael said and Harry glared at him.

“Alright, you should have a conversation with her, get to know her, you know what? You should ask her for dinner.” Michael suggested and Harry thought about it.

--

You were getting ready for the party, and you had a surprise for the host. You didn’t hate him, but he was just like what you said, a man that got whatever he wanted, and you hated men that had everything. It makes you feel like an object around them.

You heard a knock on your door and Angela went to open it enough for you to not be seen.

“Can I speak with y/n?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Styles. She’s getting ready, you could speak from over here.” Angela apologized truthfully.

“Y/N, are you ready? I want you down there in fifteen minutes, please.” He added that please just to sound nicer.

“She says okay. Excuse me, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry.” Angela said closing the door in his face softly.

‘Why the fuck is she avoiding me?’ He thought to himself.

He went down again by the pool to greet his guests who all wore black, he has set a small stage by the pool so you could feel as special as you wanted.

People were talking and giggling, talking money, talking shit Harry couldn’t care less about. His black suit suffocated him, he hated suits, but he had to wear them.

Your words kept ringing in his head,

“I don’t like men who always get what they want, because I don’t get what I want. I don’t like men who always get what they want, because I don’t get what I want.”

He had this urge to talk to you, to let you know that he no longer wanted anything to do with you if you didn’t want. He wanted to just speak to you.

From afar he saw Jack that nodded at him as a cue that you were ready to enter.

Harry cleared his throat when saw you entering in your black mantle and heading to the small stage. He spoke loudly as the music stopped so everyone could hear, “Thank you everyone for coming. I’d like to introduce to you my surprise,” He pointed at you and you smiled at them. “This is the amazing dance y/n, who is super talented and super annoying. I can guarantee that you’re going to watch something you’ll never forget.”

And with that everyone applauded before the music you chose started. Again, weird songs to the people here.

You gave them your back and just at the right time you dropped your mantle. Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at you in a red suit that barely covered you, you had a small waist accessory on, a golden anklet.

You started your performance which was different from what Harry saw before. Just in the middle of the song you made your way down to the audience and shook your hips and hit one of men with them, he laughed and automatically started dancing with you. You made your way to Harry whose eyebrows were furrowed at you, you enjoyed how bothered he looked that you didn’t keep to the theme of the party.

But he couldn’t stay mad as you gave him your back and danced your way back to him almost touching his chest, not stopping your belly from swaying or your hips from popping for a second. That was when you pulled your hair and threw it on his shoulder, he almost smelled it. Then, you pulled your back down on his chest, he got a very nice view of your breasts, which you shook while looking in his eyes from your position.

You took his hand and put it on your waist as you started swaying that part of your waist so his hand could go wherever your waist was going. He smirked and put his mouth right above your ear, “You’re giving me mixed signals, love.”

“I am a lioness, Gatsby, might get used to it.”

You pulled away from him and started dancing again with other people.

Lioness? What the fuck does that mean?

#harry styles smut #harry styles #couple #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #smut #harry smut

[cowgurrrl]

Hey gorgeous girl!!! I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to request maybe a preoutbreak!joel and reader where reader has a bad day at work/college? Just how Joel would comfort when he sees reader all upset and stressed out🥹 if it doesn’t spark any interest, feel free to ignore this!!! I love you & your writing 🫶🏼💐✨💋💗

Thank you for your sweet words and your love!! I love this idea!! Pre-Outbreak Joel makes my Texas heart soar 🤠

Snowqueen of Texas

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Joel hears about your day through the grapevine and decides to try to make you feel better

Warnings: None! Just Joel being a softy (gif by @loregifs)

The day had started rough. You got stuck in traffic on your way into work and cut someone off so badly they laid on their horn for a solid ten seconds. It didn’t matter because you ended up being twenty minutes late anyways. By the time you had clocked in, you were already in the weeds and barely had a chance to breathe before rushing around the restaurant like a crazy person. Every table that got up and cleaned got sat again almost immediately. People weren’t tipping as well as they usually did, but they made up for it by being rude as fuck. Your feet hurt from running back and forth all day, and to top it all off, you spilled hot sauce on your new white shirt.

So, when the hostess came to the back and told you someone was there for you during the two seconds you had to sit down, you were more than a little frustrated. You sulked up to the front, where you found Joel talking to your manager with a smile on his face. He ended all his sentences with “yes ma’am,” “no ma’am,” and “thank you, ma’am,” like the good southern boy his mama raised him to be. You smile as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle. He kisses your forehead and hugs you back, not missing a beat in his conversation.

“Is it okay if I take my break, Samantha?” You ask your manager. Normally, she would make you roll silverware for a while before she let you go on break, but Joel seems to have buttered her up because she agrees. As she goes back upstairs, he holds up a plastic bag from your favorite Mexican restaurant. “Oh, my god, I love you.” You gasp as you take the bag from him and walk to his truck.

Joel tells you about the job he’s working right now and Sarah’s school project while you eat the tacos he brought you. The air conditioning blasts cold air to beat the summer heat, and an old country song is playing on the radio. You’re really trying to listen to his story, but with the food and the comfortable passenger seat, you’re more focused on how much better you feel. “By the way, Tommy ratted you out for cutting him off this morning.” He says, and you laugh.

“Tell Thomas he can’t take up the entirety of I-35 just because he thinks he’s the only one late to work.”

“Thomas? We’re using government names now?”

“Snitches get stitches.”

“Fair,” he says as you roll the empty tinfoil wrapper into a ball and throw it back in the plastic bag. “Feelin’ better?” He asks as he puts his hand on your thigh, his warm hand squeezing you.

“How did you know I was having a bad morning?” You ask and catch his nervous habit as he grinds his teeth.

“Sarah might’ve told me she saw you leave the house from the bus stop. Said you were in a huge rush, and I figured you slept through your alarms.”

“Are all the Millers spying on me?”

“Nobody is spying on you. She told me because she knew I would be nearby today and said I should bring my beautiful girlfriend lunch.” He says as he leans over and kisses you.

“Smart girl,” you whisper against his lips, resting a hand on his scruffy jaw. His hand snakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss. “You should always come to see me on my lunch break.”

“I reckon if I did that, we’d do a lot more than eat lunch.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Only if you want us to keep our jobs,” he says, and you groan dramatically. “You just have to make it through today, and then when you get home, we can have dinner and drink wine and yell at Tommy for being a snitch.”

“Fine,” You sigh. “But I need one more thing before I can go back to work.”

“Name your price, sweetheart.”

When you walk back into work full of tacos and love, you’re wearing Joel’s shirt to replace the one you spilled hot sauce on. The hostess raises her eyebrows mischievously at you, but you shake your head, smirking, as you clock back in. “He had an extra work shirt, and mine was dirty.” You say. She hums and walks away, giving you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. She can think whatever you want because the scent of Joel’s cologne on his shirt is going to be enough to get you through the rest of your day.

Thank God the Millers are nosy as hell.

🍓

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#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller requests #joel miller drabble #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

[13uswntimagines]

Bah Humbug (Soran x Reader)

Summary: R really really hates Christmas. So much so that she's kinda known as a Grinch. Can a person from her past (and 3 ghosts) help her change her fate?

Basically, it's a story based off of Charles Dicken's Christmas Carol. I hope you enjoy it.

Author's note: I know it's after Christma, but happy holidays everyone. I hope you enjoy this crazy thing out of my head. Feel free to hit me up with comments and requests.

You glared at your phone, taking a long sip of your beer. 

The team knew you didn’t celebrate the holidays, and having your crushes call you to try and con you into attending the annual party was a low blow. Your teammates knew how difficult it was to resist them. 

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t picked up. 

You didn’t anticipate them leaving a message. 

“Hey, you’re busy and that’s probably why you didn’t pick up, but I just wanted to remind you about the team party,” Emily’s voice rang through the phone. 

You noted the distinct lack of mention that it was a holiday party. 

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas, but I would love to see you there and Lindsey and the rest of the team would too,” Emily finished. 

You took another long sip of your beer, playing the message again. 

It wasn’t fair for your teammates to use your feelings against you. 

If it had been a New Years’ party, or literally anything else you would have gone. But you absolutely could not. Would not. Support any stupid Christmas traditions. 

You had even denied the invite via Megan’s stupid survey. It has taken you nearly half an hour to scroll through the 50 questions about alcohol and desert preferences to pick the option labeled- I’m a grinch who doesn’t like fun and has a heart 2 sizes too small to attend.

It was bad enough that you couldn’t even have peace in your own home, not with your neighbor and all his holiday cheer. 

Why did he have to blast the music so loud that it drowned out your soccer replay? Why did he have to send his wife down to offer you some Christmas pudding? People already looked at you funny when you explained you didn’t love the nation's favorite holiday. You just wanted to be able to have your non-celebration in your own home. 

“Shut up,” You groaned at a particularly loud cheer from the floor above you, tossing your remote so it thumped against the ceiling. “Just let me eat my frozen pizza in peace,” 

What gave them the right to be so loud and merry?

There were still homeless people on the streets, children going hungry, and men fighting over who owned land that was never theirs to own. 

Part of your problem with Christmas was that all it appeared to be was an excuse for rich people to get richer, people to get drunk at parties, and those with bad intentions to take advantage. 

You waited a few more minutes, reaching for another beer as the music only grew louder.  With a sigh you threw your remote a little harder, praying that your neighbor would quiet down. 

You glared when your phone rang again. 

Why couldn’t anyone get the fucking message? You didn’t want to be a part of the Christmas celebrations or their stupid money-grabbing intentions. 

“What?” You grumbled into the phone. 

“Is that any way to greet your favorite team mom?” Kelley asked, and you rolled your eyes. 

Preath were your team moms, but Kelley had stepped in when you were traded to Washington, and you loved her nearly as much as you loved them. 

“You're not my favorite, Christen is,” You scoffed, taking a large gulp of your beer. “And you’re only calling me to convince me to come to the stupid party,” 

Kelley sighed heavily over the line. In all the time she had known you, you had never even tried to be merry. “Come on kid, why don’t you try to get into the Christmas spirit,” 

“No,” You snapped. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” 

“But Emily and Lindsey will be there, and Megan’s even putting up an insane amount of mistletoe just for you,” Alex’s voice chimed in, sounding farther away than her girlfriend. “Just come for a little while. You don’t even have to dance to the music. it’ll be fun,” 

“I said no. I don’t celebrate Christmas,” You ground out. “Mistletoe is an invasive, parasitic, poisonous species that could kill you,” 

“You don’t have to be such a Scrooge,” You could hear Kelley’s frown. 

“Well, bah fucking humbug,” You huffed.

“I know things have been tough since Tyler-“ Alex started, but you cut her off with a thunderous growl. “Don’t you dare mention my brother,”  

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “We never celebrated Christmas either,” you hung up before either of your stand-in parents could say another word. 

You didn’t care what they had to say. You just wanted to have your little non-celebration in peace. You didn’t want to think about your non-existent family. Or the memories that came with this stupid fucking holiday. 

You closed your eyes tightly, listening idly to the sounds of the party above you. 

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time

“Shut up!” you yelled louder this time, grabbing a broom and banging on your ceiling. “Keep your Yule Tidings to yourself!” 

There was some banging on the floor above you before the music got impossibly louder, and you swore you heard a “don’t be such a grinch” 

You sighed. 

You were different from the grinch. You hated the holiday and everything it stood for. Not the people. 

And there was no way you would be carving up the roast beast. 

But maybe… 

You clicked into your messages, your fingers hovering over the group chat you shared with Lindsey and Emily. 

It took you a minute to click out a message. 

Be safe tonight you two. Try not to have too much fun without me. 

And another long minute to hit the send key. 

It took less than 30 seconds for your phone to ping with their reply. 

You could make sure we were safe if you came

You shook your head at Lindsey’s words, immediately closing your phone and standing from the couch, and heading towards your room. You knew you could be with them, but you didn’t want to. 

You didn’t want to bring down their night with your negativity. 

You heard your phone ding again as you crawled into bed, but you didn’t feel like answering, hoping to just sleep the holidays away. 

*****

You weren’t sure what woke you up, but one second you were asleep and the next you were not. 

It was like a cold wind had blown through your bedroom, whipping your blanket off of you and slamming your bedroom door with a clap. 

“What the fuck?” You hissed, sitting up in bed, searching for your stolen quilt. 

“Didn’t know you had inherited my sailor's mouth,”

You sucked in a breath at the familiar voice, and your entire being froze. You hadn’t heard his voice since-

You didn’t want to think about it. 

Still, your eyes searched the room for the source of the sound, fully expecting the television to be playing an old home movie. 

But it was oddly blank. “What the fuck?”

“Come on kid, I thought you were sharper than this,” The voice chuckled, and your head snapped toward the noise. 

“No,” You breathed out as you took in his form, his wide smile and beaming features coated in a strange white mist. “You died four years ago. You can’t be here,”  

He hummed. “I told them you would be suspicious,”

You shook your head, standing and beginning to pace. 

“Maybe it was something in the beer,” You mumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair. “I shouldn’t have switched brands,”

“It’s not the beer,” Your brother shrugged, stepping from his place in the doorway to sit on the edge of your bed. 

“It has to be!” You hissed, sending him your best glare.

Ghosts were not real. Dead relatives didn’t visit you at night. 

You had to be hallucinating, or high, or have a brain tumor creating him. 

“It’s not.” He shrugged again, his easy smile never leaving his face. That just made you angrier. How could he smile when you were probably having a mental breakdown? How could he be happy?

He watched you cross the room a few times, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t you sit down so we can talk for a moment? I don’t have an unlimited amount of time,”

You huffed. “How can you be so calm at a time like this?”

“This isn’t my first visit to you, just the first time you’ve been able to acknowledge me,” He said softly, his voice still semi-amused, gesturing towards the bed opposite of him. “Sit, before you pull a muscle or something,” 

You very slowly made your way to the spot, carefully sitting down on the bed, your eyes taking in every inch of your visitor. Your older brother had never been so pale. You also noted the dark circles under his grey eyes, and how his hair was more tousled than usual. But other than that it was him, and he was completely fine, sitting across from you in his signature bomber jacket. 

“You’re really here,” You breathed out, the ever-present ache in your chest easing for just a second. 

He nodded, reaching out to cover your hand with his.“I am,”

It was a strange sensation, like ice and tingles where he had touched you. It didn’t fill you with the warmth you always remembered. 

You pulled your hand away, curling it to your chest. “Why are you here?” 

“I’ve come to warn you,” Tyler said, his voice nothing more than a conspiratorial whisper. 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “This isn’t some Christmas carol hoax about me forging a chain I’ll have to wear in death, is it? You didn’t celebrate Christmas either and you don’t have one,” 

“No,” Your brother sent you a rye smile. “but there are different kinds of chains Y/n,”

He held up his wrist to show you what looked like a handcuff. 

You frowned, shaking your head. “I adopt an angel every year. I send money to the shelter down the road. I don’t know what else you people want from me,” 

You did everything you could to make the world a better place. The only thing you refused to do was celebrate a stupid holiday. That didn’t stop you from donating or making kids’ dreams come true. 

That should be enough. 

Your brother's eyes tightened. “You’re here alone on Christmas Eve,” 

“So?” You shrugged. 

The only difference from your normal celebrations was that he hadn’t been there to share it with you. 

“Y/n it is too late to change my fate, to relinquish the curse I must face every year of watching those I love, but it’s not late to change yours,” 

His shoulders squared and his voice turned deep, and suddenly you knew that the next words he was about to speak were not his own.  “Tonight you will be visited by 3 spirits. The ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas yet to come. Take heed to what they say. It may be your last chance,” 

He stood to leave without another word, and you mirrored his actions, practically launching yourself at him. 

“Wait!” you yelped, latching onto his cold hand. 

“Hmm,” his eyes turned back to you, but they were more distant than before. 

“I-“ you gulped. “I miss you,”

He smiled, shaking his hand from your grasp, and placing it on your heart. “Remember bug, we’re always with you,”

With one last sad, longing smile he disappeared. 

*****

You were restless, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Part of you was still trying to convince yourself that your bothers… visit was a figment of drunk yous imagination. The other part was anxiously awaiting for the clock to strike 12 and for the first “ghost” to appear. 

You had never been superstitious. You had laughed at ghost stories and shrugged off tales of apparitions, deeming them as tales meant to scare children. But still, you wondered what this… ghost would look like. What they would do. And most of all how it would try to persuade you that Christmas wasn’t some oversold, over-hyped holiday designed to make people go into debt. 

Your eyes followed the minute hand of the clock, tracking as it finally landed on 12. 

You held your breath, waiting for something to happen. 

But as the minute hand moved again and the seconds ticked by there was… nothing. 

There was no jiggle of your door handle, or uninvited visitor standing at the foot of your bed. There wasn’t even the flutter of a curtain. 

“It was the beer,” you sighed, laying back on your bed, and letting out a chuckle. You closed your eyes, content to sleep the miserable holiday away. 

“It wasn’t,” 

Your eyes snapped open and you leaped out of the bed, turning to face your unwanted intruder. 

“Easy slugger,” The woman on the bed laughed, an eerie glow surrounding her entire body, lighting up your room. 

You froze, your gaze flickering between the woman’s face and the signed jersey that lived on your wall. “Mia?” You asked, earning a chuckle from the retired forward. 

“Not quite, young one. I am the ghost of Christmas Past,” Her smile was wide, warm, and welcoming. 

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing. “Then why are you shaped like Mia Hamm?”

“I’ve come to you in a form you are more open to accepting. Your idol,” The ghost explained softly, still perched casually on your bed, holding out her sleeve to you. 

You rolled your eyes, scoffing and crossing your arms across your chest. “So you’re just gonna take me through the history of Christmas in hopes of changing my heart?”

The ghost smiled wryly at you as if she expected that reaction. “I am the ghost of not all Christmases past, just your past,” 

“Oh,” You deflated.

“Come young one, grab my sleeve and we will begin our journey,” 

You sighed, closing your eyes tightly as your fingers reached for the robe. 

You had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy this. 

****

You blew out a long breath as your feet met the ground, your slippers crunching on freshly fallen snow.

Snow you hadn’t seen since you moved to Orlando. 

You blinked up at the scene, taking in the bricks, rod iron, and sloping lawn of the mansion you had called home. 

The angels at the gate were coated in a thin layer of white powder, along with the fountain in the center of the drive. 

It was an image ingrained into your head that you knew would never leave. An image you hadn’t seen since your 11th Christmas. 

But how were you here? You couldn’t be here…

“Are we where I think we are?” You asked Mia slowly, dragging your wide eyes away from your childhood home. 

“We are,” She nodded once. “Our Christmas journey begins with one of your best Christmases. Shall we go inside,” 

You gulped but headed towards the gate nonetheless. Your fingers shook as they unlatched the little lock (shaped like a rose) and you slipped through both it and the door to the house. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the warm air that wafted towards you as you stepped into the foyer of the house, and its distinct smell of cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. 

It curled around you like a hug from her, and you could feel the tightness in your chest that always accompanied it. 

Mia’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing that prevented you from stepping backward, away from the feelings that you had run from for so long.

“Your family is gathered in the den,” She said softly, “Shall we join them, or do you need a minute?”

You cleared your throat. You shouldn’t feel so choked up just from the smell of cinnamon rolls. It was stupid, but your mother had made them every Christmas morning, and you and your brother had eaten them together with hot chocolate. It was a core memory that just hurt so much now. 

“I’m fine,” You muttered, pushing yourself forward and into the den. 

You ignored the ache in your chest at the lights that littered the walls, and the tree that stood proudly in the corner. But you couldn’t help the feeling that opened in the pit of your stomach when you saw a younger version of yourself settle between your brother and your mother. 

You could remember that Christmas vividly. It was the last real Christmas your family had spent together as a family. 

“I think it’s Ty’s turn,” Your father smiled jovially, holding up a camcorder as your other brother reached for his next box. 

It was small, wrapped in red paper, and clumsily tied with a bow. Your eight-year-old self had been so proud to have wrapped it alone for the first time. Looking back at it, you really should have let your mother help you, but no one commented on the sloppy job. 

“I wonder who this one could be from,” Tyler smiled, bumping your shoulder lightly as a blush colored your cheeks. 

“It’s from me,” Your younger self mumbled, looking away, embarrassed. “I picked it out myself,” 

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” You hummed, stepping closer to the couch. 

Mia shrugged. “It was the first gift you had ever decided to buy. You put a lot of thought into it,” 

Tyler very carefully undid the bow, and slowly lifted the messy red paper off of the box, and both you and your younger self watched him with rapt attention as he flipped open the lid on the box to reveal an Arsenal beanie. 

“It was his favorite team,” You countered, your eyes never leaving the way he immediately slipped it onto his head and pulled younger you into a hug. “It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to like it,” 

‘No,” Mia agreed. “But your younger self also didn’t realize that it was the thought that counts either,”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek as your mother passed younger you your last box. “I didn’t understand that the presents weren’t the thing that mattered yet,” 

You knew exactly what was in that box. 

Your younger self was much less systematic than your brother as she tore off the paper golden, revealing the plain box beneath it. It wasn’t until she peeked under the lid that she paused, her jaw dropped staring at her family. 

“I didn’t learn that lesson until the year after this one,” You muttered as your eight-year-old self ripped the top of the box and held up a signed Mia Hamm jersey. You winced as your younger self launched yourself at your mother. 

You watched for any sign, any wobble from her. 

“She didn’t know she was sick yet,” Mia hummed gently as if she were reading your mind, and you reasoned that she may have been. She was a ghost after all. 

You cleared your throat, shaking your head as young as you tugged the jersey over your head. “I was a dumbass for putting it on. It should have gone directly in the frame,”

“You were excited,” Mia reminded you gently, the hand on your shoulder comforting you more than it should have. “It was everything you had ever wanted,” 

“I would have appreciated not getting a stain right above the crest on the chest,” You shrugged. “Thinking back on it now, I had everything I wanted. I didn’t need a jersey for that. God only knows how much my father paid for that,” 

“Is money all you think about?” Mia asked you softly.

Your eyes tightened at the question.

 “No,” You ground the word out through clenched teeth. Money was all your father thought about. You were nothing like your father. “I just wonder how much good could have been done instead-”

“Of giving you a core childhood memory?” Mia countered, not allowing you to finish your thought. 

You bit your lip, holding in the biting remark on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t like being interrupted, or being contradicted. 

“The memory would have been fine without the jersey,” You grumbled, averting your eyes from your younger self as your mother pressed a kiss to your forehead. “The core experience was about being with them, not some stupid present,” 

Mia hummed, watching you carefully. 

Your younger self pulled away, smiling widely at your mother. “I love Christmas,” 

“And I love you,” She smiled back.

You gulped down the pain in your chest, using the corner of your old West Virginia sleeve to wipe away the liquid forming in the corner of your eye. Christmas had been your favorite for a long time. 

Until it wasn’t. Until you learned its true meaning. 

You forced your gaze from the scene, and back towards Mia. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” 

She nodded once. “Grab my sleeve,” 

*******

Dim lights met you as your eyes flickered open, the yellow glow of the fire illuminating a solitary form curled up in front of it. 

The form shivered, despite its closeness to the blazing hearth, pulling the fraying red blanket tighter around itself. 

Yourself. 

The Christmas tree that had dominated the living room was gone, as were the garland and light strings that hung from the ceiling. The only indication that it was near Christmas was the sound of Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time buzzing softly through an old radio. 

You remembered this night just as well as you had your last stop, even better. You remembered your thoughts as you stared into the fire, how you cursed the universe or any god that may or may not have been listening. You remembered wishing that every radio station wasn’t playing things that reminded you of her, but you couldn’t live with your racing thoughts enough to sit in silence. 

It was the first time you had ever really hated Christmas. 

“You look lonely,” Mia commented, and you jumped slightly. You had almost forgotten that she was there.

“I couldn’t go to the hospital,” You breathed out, your voice shaking with the effort it took to hold back your emotions. “She tried to make us our Christmas cinnamon rolls and collapsed,” 

You shook your head. You had been the one to ask for them. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed long enough the year before to make them, and you missed them. She waved off your father's concern and nodded at you with a chapped-lipped smile. 

Mia’s hand landed warm and heavy on your shoulder, but you brushed her off, taking a step closer to your younger self. 

You didn’t need the comfort now, you had needed it back then, and no one was there. The least you could do was help yourself. 

You slowly reached out a hand, rubbing the spot on the back of your younger self's neck that you knew would soothe her. “It hurts now, but you’ll be alright,” 

“She can’t hear or feel you,” Mia interrupted you, standing on your younger self's other side. 

You glared up at her, a barbed quip on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t get to use it. 

“Hey, munchkin,” Tyler’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and your youngest self’s head snapped around to see him. 

He smiled sadly down at you, and you moved so he could sit beside your younger self in front of the hearth. 

Tyler’s arm wrapped around your shoulder and you tucked your face into the warm skin of his neck. 

“This is all my fault,” Your younger self breathed out miserably, and you saw the tears creeping down Tyler’s neck. 

“No,” Tyler said firmly, coaxing you out of his neck so he could look you in the eyes. “Mom was sick,”

You shook your head, more tears streaming down your face. “But if I hadn’t asked for cinnamon roll-”

“She probably would have had to go to the hospital anyway,” He countered, using a thumb to wipe your tears away. 

You frowned as you watched them, the smell of Tyler’s calone fresh in your mind. The way his hugs had always made you feel whole. How you trusted him that it would all be alright. 

You didn’t know that your mother was dying in a hospital bed. You had believed him. 

Your younger self touched her face into Tyler’s shoulder, and he held you tighter. 

“He didn’t tell me that we couldn’t afford the surgery or the treatments that would save her,” You mumbled bitterly.  “Or that the treatments probably wouldn’t have helped her anyway,” 

You turned away from the scene towards Mia. “I don’t want to be here,” 

She nodded once, holding out her sleeve, and the scene disappeared around you in a blur of color. 

*****

Your knees wobbled as you landed in the living room of your apartment, and your hand tightened around Mia’s arm as you tried to get your footing. You used your arm to wipe your sleeve across your eyes. 

Brushing away the evidence of one of your worst Christmases. 

“Take some deep breaths,” Mia said softly, her hand landing warm and heavy on your shoulder. 

You nodded, sucking in a wet breath through your nose. 

“Why did you have to show me that?” You asked, glaring at the woman. 

“Because it’s one of the reasons you hate Christmas,” She answered, not wavered by your sudden anger. “Because you can’t see that you don’t have to hate,” 

“Nothing but bad things happen on Christmas,” You spat back, ripping yourself out of her grasp. 

“Tyler didn’t seem to think so,” She said. 

Your glare deepened. 

It wasn’t a fair statement. Yes, Tyler had never lost his joy like you had. 

And neither had you really, not until Christmas four years ago. 

“He did his best,” You reluctantly conceded. 

“You made your own traditions,” She hummed, waving her hand. 

The blurry scenery around you shifted to your apartment. A younger version of you was standing in the kitchen, carefully sliding a pizza out of the oven to sit on the counter next to your beer bottle. 

You frowned at the soft glow of Christmas lights and the sound of an old World Cup playing in the background. 

There was a warmth in the apartment that had been missing since…

You shook your head. 

You didn’t like to think about that night. That Christmas. 

“Hey kid,” Tyler said, knocking on the kitchen counter as he approached you, the Arsenal beanie perched on his head. 

You carefully set the pizza down, smiling widely at him. “What's up?”

You could practically feel the excitement radiation off of you. It wasn’t like the Christmas of your youth, nothing had been the same after your mother died, but you and Tyler had found your own way to enjoy the holiday. 

His mirroring smile was pained, and his fingers tapped the counter like he was nervous. “Dad called,”

Your nose scrunched. “What did he want?”

You hadn’t spoken to him since you moved out to go to college. 

After your mother died, he turned to a bottle to ease his pain, and in the process, he inflicted his pain on you. His jovial heart had turned cold, and you had scars from him that you would never outgrow. 

“It was his nurse at hospice,” Tyler amended quietly. His voice held an unusual edge. “They don’t think he’s going to make it through the night,”

You blinked up at him, your shoulders lifting and falling. “So?”

Tyler sighed, grabbing your wrist gently so you would look up at him instead of focusing on where you were slicing the pizza. 

“I know he’s made some mistakes-”

“He abused me,” You scoffed, interrupting him. “That’s not a mistake,” 

Your voice held no room for argument. It couldn’t, not with all that he had done. 

A mistake was one incident. One accidental laying of hands. 

Your father in his grief had surpassed that hundreds if not thousands of times. The thick, raised scars on your back were evidence of that, as were the sounds of his sneering voice in your ear. 

“He’s our father,” Your brother said sternly but you were already shaking your head. 

“He made his choice,” 

Your voice was bitter, cold. It sent a shiver down present-day you’s spine. 

Tyler blew out another long breath, pushing himself away from the counter. “It’s his dying wish,” 

You followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“And he can take it to his grave,” You spat the words. As far as you were condemned, you didn’t owe him anything. 

Tyler rolled his eyes, pulling on his boots. “Don’t be cruel Y/n, It doesn’t suit you,” 

You watched him with disbelief as he pulled on his boots, and stood up to grab his jacket. 

“You can't seriously be going to see him,” You said, following after him. “He’s an asshole,” 

“Everyone deserves to have their dying wish heard,” He said, his voice sounding more like a dad than your own father’s had. “Are you coming or not?”

It made you want to soften, but you didn’t. 

“So I can tell him to burn in hell?” You raised your eyebrow at him. 

“Y/n,” He sighed. “Don’t do it for him, do it for yourself. Closure is important,” 

Your lip curled. “I got my closure the first time he picked up a belt, or threw a Christmas tree out the window, or-,” 

“I’ll be back, don't have too much fun without me,” Tyler cut you off, wrapping his scarf around his neck, giving you a very quick hug, and heading out the door. It slammed behind him, and he was gone. 

You stared at your younger self as she stared at the door. 

It was the last time you would ever see your brother alive. The last time you would see his smile or feel his hugs that had always set you at ease. 

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time hummed in the background, and you longed to wrap your younger self up in your arms. 

“I wish I had told him I loved him,” You mumbled as your younger self turned on her heel and headed back toward her pizza. 

Mia’s warm hand found your shoulder again. “You didn’t have to say it for him to know,” 

You brushed her off, tired of her and what she was showing you. “I still wish I said it,” 

Tyler was too good of a person. He wanted to make everyone happy. 

And I’m his effort to give your Father Christmas Joy, he had lost his life. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” 

Mia held up her sleeve and you grabbed on. The world tilted on its head and suddenly one of the worst nights of your life was gone. 

All you had learned was that you hated Christmas for a good reason. Only bad things happened on Christmas. 

******

You jolted upright, breathing heavily as your eyes opened. Your hands clutched your wet shirt, soaked through with sweat, and your eyes darted around your room, searching for the ghost of Mia Hamm who only showed you your worst memories. 

Your breathing slowed as you realized you were alone. 

“It was just a dream,” You ran a hand through your damp curls. “I really shouldn’t have switched beer brands,” 

“No, you shouldn’t mix brands because it destroys the flavor,” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the voice, leaping out of the bed and whipping around to see one Kelley O’Hara sitting on your bed, dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that resembled a Christmas tree. 

“What the fuck Kelley,” You grumbled incredulously at the defender. “What are you doing here? How did you get into my apartment?” 

“I’m not Kelley,” She smiled devilishly at you, crossing one leg over the other, a perfect imitation of one of your team moms. “Ghost of Christmas present, happy to make your acquaintance,” 

She held her hand out for you to take. 

You stared at the outstretched fingers warily. 

“Are you here to make me feel worse?” You asked cautiously. 

The defender shook her head, her dimples showing. “I’m just here to show you what you’re missing,” 

You sighed, throwing your head back. “Can we not and say we did? I’ll go to the stupid Christmas party next year,” 

Kelley chuckled, and you heard her stand from the bed.  “I’m afraid not,” 

“It was worth a shot,” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose and looking back at the woman. The amused smile hadn’t left her lips. 

“Ready?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

The truth was that you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to be stuck in this scrooge-like dream. You didn’t want to see what you were missing. 

You didn’t like Christmas, and it annoyed you that even your brain wouldn’t let you wallow in peace. 

“Let’s get this shit over with,” 

She snorted, stepping forward and gently grabbing your arm. “It won’t be too bad, don’t worry,” 

The colors in your bedroom blurred and you felt a now familiar tug in your stomach as your world shifted. 

At least this ghost seemed happier. 

*****

Immediate warmth filled your chest as you opened your eyes to the scene, leaning heavily on Kelley as the world shifted into focus. 

Glasses tinkled and the laughter of your friends filled your ears. The smell of cinnamon and cherries filled the air and it felt like home. You didn’t even mind simply having a wonderful Christmas time blaring in the background. 

You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted. You doubted the sounds of your found family would ever not have the power to make you smile. 

“You totally cheated,” Emily grumbled, flicking her Uno cards toward Lindsey. 

The midfielder shook her head, cackling. “I didn’t, I’m just better at this than you are,” 

“I figured your two favorite blondes would make you smile,” Kelley cheered, clapping your shoulder and making you jump. “Christmas pastey told me you were in a bad mood,” 

Your smile morphed into a scowl. “She made me relive two of my worst memories,” 

“She was trying to show you that the people you loved wouldn’t want you to be alone on Christmas,” Ghost Kelley countered as regular Kelley returned to the room, carrying drinks. 

The defender passed the filled solo cups about. “As much fun as uno is, I think an actual game is called for here,” 

Lindsey leaned down and sniffed the cup, scrunching her nose. “What did you put in here, jet fuel?”  

Emily cackled again, even as Alex, Kelley, and Megan shook their heads. 

“No, it’s the special Christmas mix,” Tobin supplied easily. “Kelley makes it every year,” 

“She thinks it’ll make us more honest during never have I ever,” Christen added, winking at the blonde pair. 

“I didn’t know they played never have I ever on Christmas,” You mumbled, leaning towards one of the red solo cups and taking a whiff of your own. Your nose wrinkled at the smell. 

It was definitely something more potent than her normal mix. You caught a hint of Jamison and vermouth, and something… cinnamony. 

Fireball you thought ruefully. She made them fireball manhattans, stronger than ones they could ever get in a bar. 

“Why would you?” Ghost Kelley chuckled, “You’ve never attended a Christmas party with them, even while your brother was still alive,” 

 “I didn’t want to be around the holiday cheer,” You hissed. This ghost was as insufferable as the first was. “And my brother and I had traditions of our own,” 

“Yes, I’m sure eating a frozen pizza and watching a World Cup from 1950 is the best way to spend a Christmas,” Ghost Kelley rolled her eyes. “So much better than being surrounded by people who love you,” 

“It’s just easier” You hissed back. “It doesn’t hurt as much,” 

Being around your friends at Christmas reminded you of what your life was like before your mother died. It reminded you about how much you loved the lights, the colors, and the joy. 

It felt like you were betraying her memory. 

Ghost Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “All it does is let you wallow in your past pain instead of making new, happy memories,” 

Lindsey put her glass down. “I think I’ll pass, I promised Y/n that we would be safe tonight, and one of us has to drive,” 

“She really cares about you two,” Christen said gently. 

Lindsey and Emily shared a meaningful look.

“We know,” Emily said softly, her face falling just a bit. “We were hoping she would come, so we could… talk about our developing feelings,” 

“I even hung up an extra mistletoe in case,” Lindsey added, gesturing towards the archway between the kitchen and the living room. 

You frowned. “Why would they think I would come?” 

“It’s not you guys, trust us,” Alex hummed, sipping her drink. 

“Y/n just hates Christmas,” Megan added, rolling her eyes. “She basically locks herself away every year with a frozen pizza and a case of beer,”  

“At least she’s got a good reason,” Christen muttered, sending a meaningful look toward Megan. 

Christen was the one to find you the night your brother died. The one who held you after you identified your brother. 

After you said goodbye. 

“They thought you would come because they were hoping you would want to be with them,” Ghost Kelley said, and your eyes snapped to her half-smile.

“She doesn’t have to be such a grinch about how much she hates it though,” Megan scoffed, leaning back against Sue’s legs. “She dunked My speakers at practice because I was playing Christmas music,”

 “And she tossed my hat when I asked her to pick a secret Santa and gave me a lecture on how Santa was a figment created by toy companies and parents to scare children and make money,” Real Kelley added.

“But why?” Lindsey asked, her voice edging too far on desperate for you to feel comfortable. 

Both she and Emily had been warned of your aversion to the holiday, but no one seemed willing to expand on it. 

You hadn’t been willing to expand on it, even if they could tell that it was something that caused you great pain. 

An uncomfortable quiet swept around the circle of soccer players as the vets shared looks. 

“Her mother and her brother both died on Christmas,” Christen explained finally. 

 “and her dad made the ones in between that hell,” Tobin finished, sipping her red cup. “She’s convinced it’s a horrible holiday designed to pray on people’s pain,” 

“She’s living in the past,” Alex added.  “and no matter how hard we try, we can’t drag her into the present,” 

“I do want to be with them,” You growled. 

“Then why aren’t you here?” Ghost Kelley asked, cocking her head to the side. 

 “I get that kid doesn’t like Christmas, but she doesn’t have to make it miserable for the rest of us,” The real Kelley added softly, earning a slap on the shoulder from Alex. She raised her hands in defense. “What it’s true! She’s impossible about everything when it comes to Christmas,” 

“I didn’t go because I didn’t want to make anyone have to share in my gloom,” You muttered towards ghost Kelley, sending a waving gesture towards the room. “Because it’s a kindness to allow them to be happy. It can only happen without me,” 

“I’m going to go get water,” Lindsey muttered, standing from the couch. 

“Well that’s a bummer,” Ghost Kelley cackled, flicking the side of your head. “Must you always be so much of a downer? Your frown is going to give you premature wrinkles,” 

“Why couldn’t my ghost of Christmas present be Christen,” You grumbled, pushing yourself up from your couch’s arm, following after the midfielder. “She’s so much understanding,” 

Ghost Kelley smirked, pushing herself off the wall to walk in time with you towards the kitchen. “Ghost Christen was unavailable, something about a vacation with ghost Tobin,” 

You rolled your eyes, pressing on the swinging door of the kitchen. You heard Emily’s “I'm gonna go check on her,” from behind you. 

“Good to know that they’re just as gross in the ghost world,” You muttered, your eyes landing on Lindsey as you stepped into the kitchen. 

She was far too focused on the pitcher, filling a red solo cup with water. 

You sighed, reaching out a hand towards her shoulder, longing to comfort her, even if you didn’t understand exactly why she was sad. 

“She can’t feel you or hear you,” Kelley reminded you, her voice going gentle. 

You gulped, drawing your hand back before it could run through the midfielder's silky hair. 

“Why is she upset?” You asked, just as Emily slowly pushed open the door, leaning on the counter. 

“You alright?” Emily questioned, her worried eyes following Lindsey’s form. 

The midfielder gulped but nodded. “I’m ok, it was just a lot out there,” 

“We both knew holidays would be a challenge,” Emily hummed. “She was pretty upfront with her hang-ups,” 

“I know,” Lindsey mumbled, her voice cracking. “I just… I didn’t know that the reason why would break my heart so much,” 

You frowned. 

“She’s so sweet, but all she can see in my favorite holiday is death and destruction,” the midfielder continued. “And she’s not open to seeing anything else,” 

“Babe,” Emily whispered, stepping past you and wrapping her arms around Lindsey’s waist. The midfielder turned into her, burying her face in Emily’s shoulder. 

Her back shook with the force of her tears, and you were left speechless. 

She was crying. For you. Because things had happened to you, and you couldn’t let it go. 

It made your chest ache. 

“Don’t worry,” Emily said, rubbing Lindsey’s back, shushing her gently. “She’ll come around. Maybe we can head over to her apartment after tomorrow, and bring her Thai food or something. It’ll be like a tradition of our own,” 

Lindsey sniffled, but you saw her nod at the idea. “She’ll like that,” 

“I would too,” Emily agreed. 

You stepped back from the woman, unable to tear your eyes away. 

They were willing to make a new tradition, just for you. 

“Seems like you picked two good ones,” Ghost Kelley said, her lips very close to your ear. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the feeling, whipping around to face her, the kitchen blurring around you as you did. 

Her smirk shifted from playful to something more… mocking. Unfriendly. “Willing to give up their traditions to make you feel more comfortable. But you're not willing to do the same for them are you?” 

“I’m…I,” You stuttered, your eyebrows furrowing. 

She held up her hand to silence you. “My time with you is short I’m afraid. I don’t have any to spare for our banter,” 

With that, she turned on her heel, and it was all you could do to keep us as you stumbled after her, through the door and into- 

Not Kelley's apartment. It was a long, dark cobblestone alleyway covered in shadows. 

*****

“Where are we?” You said, tripping over your feet as you tried to keep up with ghost Kelley. 

She seemed on a mission. You knew the defender was fast in real life, but this felt like an entirely new level. You felt drunk, unable to keep your feet underneath you as you staggered beside her. 

“The present,” Kelley said as if it was obvious. 

You rolled your eyes at her wit, familiar and different all the same. “But where?”

“To show you what you have that you don’t appreciate,” Kelley waved her hand, stopping short and not giving you enough time to stop before you rammed into her. 

You recoiled away from her. “Wasn’t that the point of showing me the stupid Christmas party?” 

“No. That was to show you what you’re missing. This.” Ghost Kelley said shortly, waving her hand again. “This is to show you how ungrateful you are,” 

Light spilled from the lanterns hanging on the walls, chasing away the shadows. It pushed away the darkness, illuminating a small family, huddled together to get out of the cold. 

You stared at the mother, holding a child no older than 4 in her lap. 

“Shh honey, it’ll be alright,” She hummed, rocking the child. 

You couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up in your chest. The rage that no one was listening to you. 

Just because you hated Christmas didn’t mean you were selfish. 

You wheeled around, taking an angry step toward ghost Kelley. 

“I’m fucking tired of this,” You growled. “I donate to charity every year. I give to the angel tree. I fucking give out Turkey dinners to the homeless. What else  do you people want from me,” 

Kelley smirked. “They told me you were smart, but I’m beginning to wonder,” 

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off, stepping too close to you, one hand catching the collar of your shirt and shoving you backward. 

Your back hit the cold brick wall, and for the first time, it felt like a ghost in front of you instead of your very first team mom. 

“You are not living,” She snarled. “You have friends who love you. A family you found, yet you act like everything was taken from you,” 

You pressed into her hand. “Everything was taken from me. A stupid disease took my mother, grief took my father and a drunk driver coming home from a Christmas party took my brother. That’s all this fucking holiday does. Take!”

“It didn’t have to take you,” Kelley said, bitterness clear in her voice. “You gave up your joy willingly,” 

Your teeth mashed together at the implication that your misery was your own fault. 

“Your chain is not defined by greed and ignorance, but instead loneliness and grief,” She hissed, pressing you into the wall, her lips curling to reveal sharp teeth in a way that the real Kelley’s would never. “Forged by your unwillingness to live rather than exist,” 

She pushed you again against the cold brick, before stepping away. 

Your fingers fell to your collar, straightening the crumpled material. “You want me to forget. To pretend,” 

Ghost Kelley paused, her shoulders rolling as she turned back to you, her eyes hard, unfriendly. 

“No.” She said slowly, her shows clicking as she took a menacing step towards you.“We want you to understand the difference between remembering and wallowing in your pain,” 

Her finger found its way to your chest, and she leaned in close to you again. “You waste the care people have for you. You must change before they lose it and you lose them,” 

The finger on your chest shoved hard, enough for you to stumble back. You expected to hit the wall, but you didn’t. 

Before you knew it, you were falling. 

*****

“Oof,” 

Your breath left your lips as your back contacted the ground, and white, powdery snow billowed around you. Your hands fell to your stomach, as you sucked in as much air as you could get, hoping to calm your racing heart. 

At least Mia had helped you calm down before she banished you away. It would be hard to not hold the ghost's cruelty against the real-life Kelley. 

You took in another deep breath, blowing it out slowly through your nose, counting to 5 in your head, trying to use the technique that your therapist had shown you. 

At least she didn’t think you were living in the past. She didn’t have a problem with your preferred Christmas celebration. 

… though she had suggested you send out thank you notes this year as surprise Christmas gifts. You hadn’t because you weren’t ready yet. You and Tyler had never exchanged formal gifts. 

You shook your head, carefully pushing yourself to a sitting position, and running a hand through your hair. Maybe you were living a bit in the past. 

But you could fix that. A couple of notes and then neither your therapist nor the stupid ghost of Kelley could look at you like you were broken again. 

Notes weren’t a big deal. 

You dragged your hand down, squeezing the bridge of your nose. 

Doing the notes would show Kelley and your therapist that they were wrong. 

“Took you long enough,” 

Your entire being froze at his voice, your back instantly going rigid. It brought you back to your childhood. 

“Fucking Christ,” You muttered. “First I get my hero who shows me my worst memories, then I get my team mom who shows me all of my friends talking about me behind my back and now I get you,” 

“You get me,” Your father said softly, and you could feel his large form settle beside you. “I am the ghost of Christmas future,” 

You couldn’t help the way you instinctively tensed. 

“Future that is, or that will be?” You asked, finally gathering the courage to look up at him. 

You slowly dropped your hand, peeking up at him through your fingers. You were slightly surprised when the sight didn’t send a shiver down your spine like it used to. 

Your father’s form was imposing as it always had been, but his face wasn’t as… mean. His beard looked unkempt and there were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in years.

It made you feel almost… sorry for him. As did the long, heavy chain that encircled the two of you, bound to his wrists and ankles. 

You knew he had earned that chain. Forged each link with hatred and pain. 

“The future as it is,” He answered, his blue eyes a cloudy gray, kinder than they had been since your mother died. “Its fluid, so nothing is set until the present becomes the past,” 

He shifted beside you, as if he wanted to rest a hand on you, but thought better of it. You had never seen him so hesitant. 

He had been cold and rigid since your mother passed, never bending and forcing you to break. 

“Why did they send you?” 

You couldn’t help the way you sneered the word. 

Your father sighed, running a hand through his messy curls, much like you did when you were nervous. “It is too late for me to change my fate, but it’s not too late for you. I’m part of the reason you are in the situation you are in. I wished to help fix it,” 

You swallowed hard, looking away. 

Do it for yourself. Closure is important. Your brother's voice rang through your head like a bell, and you bit your lip. 

You nodded. Fighting whatever the stupid ghosts wanted to do would get you nowhere, and the sooner you listened, the sooner you could leave your father and never look back, 

“Show the way then,” You muttered through gritted teeth. 

It came out more vindictive than you meant it to, and his shoulders hunched slightly. 

It should have made you feel good after everything he had done, but it didn’t. It made your chest hurt. It made you feel like you were a bad person. 

Your father hummed, waving his hand. “That way,” 

You squinted in the direction of his hand as the fog slowly disappeared around you, revealing large rolling hills spotted with stones. You frowned. 

You knew where you were, and you shouldn’t have been surprised. You had heard a Christmas Carol before. 

“Is this the part where you show me that I’m dead and no one gives a fuck?” You asked with a rye smile, pushing yourself to your feet. “Which one of these graves is mine?” 

Your father raised an eyebrow at you, gesturing off towards your left. 

You nodded, moving in the direction he pointed. He fell into step beside you.

Your eyes traced the smooth, gray stones as you passed them, only stopping when you came upon the one with your name on it. 

You crouched beside it, brushing away the snow that had fallen, slightly obscuring your name. You paused when you got to your last name, I’m taking a sharp breath when you saw the little hyphen. Sonnett-Horan. 

You blinked up at your father. “I took their names?” 

Your father nodded once. “You wanted to honor them, and your own last name held no memories you wanted to keep,” 

You hummed. You could see yourself doing that. The only pride you held in your name was the number of goals you had scored while it was etched across your jersey. Other than that, all your last name held was pain. You didn’t want to carry on your father's lineage. 

Not after what he had done. 

“Anna wait!” 

Your head snapped towards the sound. 

“I wanna see Momma,” The little voice called over her shoulder. 

It belonged to a girl, no older than five, racing towards you. Her hair was blonde, sharing a striking similarity with Emily’s. 

It stole the breath from your lips. 

“I know,” The other voice said. A slightly older voice, belonging to a little boy. His brown hair was combed to the side, and his jacket fluttered as he chased after the girl, finally catching up with her several feet from the grave. Anna. 

He said as they stopped right in front of you.“Mommy has the flowers. We should have waited for her,” 

Anna blinked up at him with big blue eyes, gesturing towards the grave at your feet. “I just… I missed her Tyty,” 

“I know,” He sighed, running a hand through his slightly curly hair. “I miss her too,” 

You used the corner of your shirt to wipe the sudden wetness in the corner of your eyes. 

“Who are these kids?” You asked, looking up at your father, his eyes looked slightly misty too. 

“My grandchildren,” He said. “Tyler just turned 8 and Annamarie is 4,” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but you couldn’t seem to find your words. 

And a new voice made it so you didn’t have to. 

“When did you two get so fast?” 

Your eyes snapped up to meet Emily’s blue. Identical to the blue of the little girl. AnnaMarie. 

She was a little older than your present-day Emily. The wrinkles by her eyes were a little more prominent, and you spotted a few gray hairs peeking through her bun, but nothing else had really changed. 

The boy smirked, nudging Emily with his shoulder. “You’re just getting slow mommy,” 

“Very funny,” She chuckled, taking a shaky breath when her eyes landed on the grave. 

Your grave. 

“She looks tired,” You muttered. 

“She is,” Your father said cryptically, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away to address him. 

Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth as she pulled a bouquet of roses out from behind her back, passing them to the boy. 

The boy took them gingerly like they were made of glass. 

“Hey Momma,” He said, carefully placing the flowers right in front of your headstone. “We miss you. Mommy put the tree up in the basement this year,” 

“Mama hasn’t come to see it yet,” The little girl said. The boy, Tyler, stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Aunt Kelley says it’s the prettiest tree she’s ever seen,”

You blew out a breath. “What does she mean?” 

“Last Christmas you and Lindsey argued over lights,” Your father said slowly, carefully. Too carefully. “It turned into a fight about how much you detest her favorite holiday. How you refuse to… bend. You walked out, and never came back,” 

“She blames herself,” You filled in easily. 

“She’s struggling,” He agreed. “She can barely find the energy to leave her bed, and when she does, well she’s just not the same. They came close to losing her too, and they’ll come close again tonight,” 

Your entire being froze. 

That couldn’t be true. Lindsey wouldn’t- 

You shook your head, shoving yourself to your feet and turning on your father. “You’re lying to me,” 

He held his hands up in defense, his long chain clinking as he took a step back from you, but you weren’t having it. 

“What? No comment?” You hissed, unbridled anger bubbling in your chest. How dare he try and tell you that Lindsey lost her love for Christmas. That she would ever- you couldn’t even think of the word. 

Your father shook his head, taking another step back, but you took the step with him. You had too much rage. Too much anger to stop. 

“Momma,” The little girl's voice said softly, hesitantly, and it was like an instant balm to your hot rage. 

You couldn’t help but turn back toward it, noticing that Emily and Tyler were already walking back towards where their care should be, kneeling so you were eye level with her. “Yes, baby?” 

“I know you don’t like Christmas,” She started, her little hands shaking as she reached into her puffy pink jacket, pulling out a toy Christmas tree with a little smiling face. “But Mama says no one should be alone. Mr. Tree will keep you company,” 

“Come on Anna,” Tyler called. 

The girl nodded. She placed the tree next to the bouquet, and carefully pushed herself to her feet. “Merry Christmas Momma,” 

With that, she sprinted away. 

“Merry Christmas baby,”

Your words hung in the air, even if you knew no one could hearthem. 

You didn’t care. 

You couldn’t allow this to be the future. You couldn’t allow your kids or Emily to lose you and Lindsey before either of them could even qualify for a u15 tournament. You couldn’t let Lindsey lose her joy. Not like you had lost yours. 

“Take me back,” You demanded, again shoving yourself up and turning to face him, running your sleeve over your wet eyes “Now! This will not be my future,” 

He held his hands up again, the chains hanging heavily from his wrists. “This is your future,” 

“For now!” You yelled back. 

You would not allow it to be your future. You would pretend to love Christmas if you had to, or let Lindsey put up god knows how many lights up if that is what it took. 

“Pretending to like a holiday isn’t enough to change it” “Your father said, equally as forcefully. 

“Then what is?!” You snapped back, desperation clear in your voice. 

You could not let Lindsey face that fate. You couldn’t let Emily lose both of you.

Your father shook his head. “Ebenezer Scrooge’s vice was greed and his greatest fear was being forgotten. Your vice is pain, and your fear is that others will be forced to suffer with you. You have to learn to let them in. Learn that letting them help you isn't a weakness. That letting go isn’t betraying your mother and Tyler,” 

You stepped back as though you had been slapped, but your father wasn’t done. 

“I forced you to suffer not because we shared grief, but because I couldn’t move past mine. Do not make the same mistakes that I did,” His voice shook as he spoke, and it cut straight to your soul. 

The same words Tyler and ghost Kelley had said to you. 

“I-“ The words got stuck in your mouth, even if you weren’t sure exactly what they were. 

“Change,” Your father said seriously, his hand falling heavily on your shoulder and his cloudy eyes piercing into yours. “Your fate deserves better than mine,” 

You swallowed hard, frowning as a familiar tune floated its way through the air. 

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time. 

*******

You sucked in an icy breath as you jerked away, your eyes flying wide as you scrambled to stay upright in your chair. 

“Holy shit,” 

Your voice was little more than a wheeze, and your fingers clawed at your chest in an attempt to slow your racing heart. 

It was all too much. 

“Where the fuck is a ghost now when I need help calming down,” You muttered cynically, glancing around your apartment. 

The 1996 World Cup final rolled across the screen, lighting up your couch and your blanket-covered feet. You could hear the cheer of the crowd, but it didn’t give you the same tingles that walking onto the pitch surrounded by them did, and simply having a wonderful Christmas time blasting from the floor above you. 

You looked to your left, counting the beer bottles. One, two, you paused. Nestled just behind the 3rd was a small, plastic Christmas tree that wasn’t there before. 

The only proof that your night was more than just a beer-induced dream. Proof that it was real. 

You reached for it, turning him over in your hand so his smiling face looked up at you. 

“Hi mister tree,” You said softly, your finger running over his wide smile. It filled you with warmth.“You’re right, no one should be alone on Christmas,” 

You glanced up at the clock, frowning at the bright 9:30 still blinking at you. You were sure it had been midnight when you went to bed. You were sure that… you shook your head. It didn’t matter, not now. 

You opened your phone, calling for an Uber, taking a deep breath. 

You could do this. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, the tree clutched tightly in your hand as you pulled on your jacket, scarf, and hat. 

You still had time to change your fate. 

*****

Your fingers twisted in your beanie as you stood in front of Kelley’s apartment door. 

You had never felt more nervous in your entire life. Not when you were waiting to play the World Cup, or when you were getting ready for your first PK shootout. 

You weren’t sure why you had taken your hat off of your head. You weren’t sure why you were so worked up, but you were. 

You had been invited, even if you turned it down. They were your friends, they wouldn’t shut the door on you, even if that’s what you deserved. 

You closed your eyes letting the soft sounds of you’re a mean one Mr. Grinch wash over you for a long second before slowly lifting your hand and knocking on the door. 

There was a rustle behind the door, the sound of the music turning down, and you couldn’t help but twist your beanie again. 

You had interrupted them. You considered walking away, but you didn’t have time before the door slowly swung open. 

“Speak of the grinch and she shall appear,” You mumbled, shooting the defender a shy smile. “I uh… I wasn’t sure if your invite still stood, but um…” 

“Come on,” Kelley smiled widely at you interrupting your rambling, her hand landing on your shoulder and she squeezed gently. “You’re always invited,” 

You bobbed your head, swallowing hard and allowing her to guide you into the living room. “I uh.. didn’t bring anything for the secret Santa,” 

“Don’t worry about it,” She hummed, taking your coat. “You being here is enough,” 

Her hands still sent a shiver down your spine. A reminder of ghost Kelley, and her harsh words. 

“As long as you’re sure,” You said, showing More vulnerability than you normally would. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” She sent you another soft smile, shaking her head. “Everyone is in the living room. I’ll even get you a-“

“Fireball Manhattan,” You finished, already moving towards the room. 

Her head tilted to the side as she trailed after you. “How did you know that was the surprise drink this year?” 

You shrugged. “Just a hunch,” 

“Good hunch,” She hummed suspiciously. “Look who I found,” 

She gestured towards you as you entered the living room. 

The team paused for a split second as if they couldn’t believe you had actually come before you were being surrounded. 

“Hey, Scrooge does have a heart,” 

“Glad you could come down from mount crumpet,” 

Your cheeks flamed as Christen pulled you into a tight hug and Tobin patted your back. “Lindsey and Em are gonna be so excited,” 

You let the hug go on, glancing for the two aforementioned women. “Where are they?”

“Linds wanted some water,” Christen said, kissing the side of your head, and you wilted slightly. 

That meant that they knew why you didn’t like Christmas. The team had already told them. Lindsey had already gotten upset. 

“Em followed her into the kitchen,” Tobin said, tilting her head towards the door. “Just be careful of hiding mistletoe,” 

You nodded, and Christen patted you towards the kitchen. You waved towards Alex, Megan, Sue and the youngins before pushing your way into the kitchen. 

You knew the scene that you were walking into to. You had already seen it, but that didn’t change how it made your heart clench to see Emily wrapped around Lindsey’s back, her chin resting on her shoulder. 

“Maybe we can head over to her apartment after tomorrow, and bring her Thai food or something. It’ll be like a tradition of our own,”

“I think that sounds amazing,” You answered, leaning on the counter. “Drunken noodles are my favorite,” 

Their heads whipped around to face you, and a breathtaking smile broke across Lindsey’s face.

“You came,”

You shifted uncomfortably against the counter. “my game got kinda boring,” 

Emily hummed, pushing herself off of Lindsey and taking a step towards you. “No other reason?”

Red painted itself across your cheeks, and you scratched the back of your neck. “I uh. I also wanted to make sure the two of you were safe tonight, and I wanted to spend time with you,” 

“You’re cute,” Emily smirked, holding her hands out and pulling you into a careful hug.

You leaned into it, burying your nose in her shoulder before Lindsey pulled you into her instead. 

“We got you a present if you want it,” She said softly into your hair. 

You gulped again. You hadn’t exchanged presents since your mother died. “I didn’t get you guys anything, really. 

Lindsey pulled back, her dimples showing. “You brought you, and that’s all I wanted for Christmas,” 

“I’ll go grab it, you two stay put,” Emily said from behind you, and you heard the sound of the door. 

“I’m not very good at this,” You admitted. 

Lindsey’s smile widened, her dimples getting deeper as she ran a careful thumb over your cheek. “You’re doing alright so far,” 

You nodded, swallowing at the sound of the door and Emily’s warmth returning behind you. She passed a small, thin gift over your shoulder and you took it gingerly, staring down at the bright red paper. 

“This is called a present,” Emily jested. “You’re supposed to rip it open,” 

“I know that,” You mumbled, thumbing the corner of the paper. “I just-“ 

“Just say thank you,” Lindsey said instead, her thumb-stopping the word on your lip. 

You nodded. “Thank you,” 

“You’re welcome,” Lindsey hummed, nudging your cheek with her nose. “Now open it,” 

You nodded, your thumb catching the edge of the paper and slowly tearing it away. Your breath caught at the sight of red and white fabric. It was soft against your fingers and the sight alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“We know Arsenal is your favorite team,” Emily said slowly.

“So we thought a new beanie might be a good idea,” Lindsey finished, worrying her bottom lip. 

“It’s perfect,” 

It came out of your mouth before you could stop it, watery and vulnerable, but you felt safe nestled between these two women. 

“I um-“ You awkwardly ran your finger over the Arsenal logo of the red and white hat, tracing the little cannon. The same cannon you had given your brother. The same one he had pulled on his head the last time you saw him. “I don’t know a lot about Christmas, but I want to learn if you’re willing to teach me?” 

“Well, our favorite tradition is the mistletoe,” Emily said, and you could hear her smirk in her tone as she pointed towards the ceiling. “Traditionally you kiss when you're under it,” 

You chuckled, tilting your head as Lindsey leaned in and pressed a very soft kiss to your lips. It took your brain a second to catch up, but you reciprocated as soon as you did, leaning into her as she pulled away. Chasing her lips. 

Emily hummed, catching your chin and pulling you away from Lindsey and towards her, connecting your lips. 

“I think I could get used to these traditions,” 

You still weren’t sure exactly where you stood on Christmas, but what you did know was that you wanted these women with you as you figured it out. You wanted to give them everything. You were ready to let them in. 

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #soran x reader #soran imagine

[spookyspecterino]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thanks for tagging me! @fangbangerghoul

(This is a Picrew of my OC, Canary. I created her for the Bale Batman universe, where she commits various unhinged crimes. Just writing her for fun at this point and I've had a blast with her so far. I really was put on this earth to write crazy characters.)

Lines are below the cut

1. Canary tosses her cigarette into the street with a flick. "I don't know what you were originally thinking, big guy, but you're fucked now."

2. "You know that job was mine... are you stepping on my toes here?" She crosses her arms, leveling him with a stare. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't care."

3. Canary shrugs, that signature, slow smile stretching from ear to ear. "Bats...come on...let's just talk this out first!"

4. "Oh, I would never!" She hesitates, "Unless someone paid me to do it. Then...yeah, then I'd do it." Crane gives her a look. "What? I like money."

5. "Well, I could always break the Clown out..." The startled stares around the room turn to her. The conversation hushes. Canary smiles. "I'm joking, I'm joking!"

6. She takes a drag from her cigarette. The blood on her fingers stain the yellow paper. "You do that again and I'll kiss you on the mouth."

7. "I'm a fairly simple person. I like murder and I hate being in jail."

8. "Sounds good!" She shoves the knife deeper in the man's chest. He's already dead from the looks of it. "Absolutely no problem at all!"

9. "Do I look like I'm the kind of person that goes to a hospital?" Crane just stares at her blankly. "Come on, I keep duct tape in the car for a reason."

10. Canary scratches her head, or tries to to, but the cuffs restrain her movement. "Hey, bats. Can we hurry this up? I have a 7:00 I gotta get to." He ignores her. He always does. "I reaaally can't miss this, Barb is gonna be pissed if I do." Her cuffs rattle as she shakes her hands for emphasis. "We're reading The Great Gatsby this week and I'm in charge of bringing the snacks!"

11. "Fair enough. But I'm still going to put a collar on you and make you walk on all fours."

12. "Please don't growl at me, Croc." She pouts up at him. "You know I'm sensitive."

13. "How on earth am I--" Canary switches the cellphone to her other hand as she kicks the dead man's arm into the trunk. "--supposed to get anyone to respond to an email these days?"

14. "Yeah, listen. I've never had a problem with clowns, but this..." She looks around the room at the sea of colorful masks. "This is a little much for me. And I'm fairly easy going."

15. "So you want me to kill someone?" She shifts her weight, leaning against the half-wall. Her fingers turn over a pack of cigarettes. Crane nods in that solemn way he always does, never giving anything away behind those blue eyes. Canary continues, "Ok. I like you, so I'll do it. But I expect a favor, later on." She waggles her eyebrows trying to get some sort of reaction from him.

- - -

No pressure tagging others that might be interested in playing: @nocturnest @aro-pancake @jakopom @bokatankryze

#This was a treat #Thanks Fang

[mooflettes]

Tbh, I think that Pecharunt used to be mischievous but never causing any real trouble. But after being banished, he became a lot more malicious and revenge driven. I’d say he needed the masks so that he can absorb them and be able to see where Terapogas is. Despite all this, he keeps his mischievous side as a facade, as a coping mechanism to forget about the physical and mental pain he has to constantly endure. Almost like a mask if you think about it.

I’d say that Pecharunt renamed itself to ‘Dokutaro’ or ‘Dokuwāro’ to sound more menacing.

Now, I really hope Pecharunt becomes the main antagonist on its own in this fic since most antagonists tend to be evil teams who sometimes controlled legendary Pokémon, in my opinion, it’s gotten a bit stale. So it’ll be interesting to see a Pokémon acting as an antagonist on its own and acting malicious (Pecharunt actually wants to KILL Millie).

So whatever Project Venus is, I can see Pecharunt sabotaging it and using it to its own benefits.

Now, for some headcanon powers, I think that he can release souls that he absorbed to have some kind of hive-mind. To make up his lack of combat skills, he’s a master at manipulating others and a master at psychological warfare. As he was able to manipulate Kieran to do what it wants but leave Kieran in the dust.

He would also kill his victims by manipulating them to kill themselves, since to him, it’s easier to absorb souls this way.

And, by psychological warfare, he does that again and again even at the end of the fic as before he unfused and everyone was celebrating, he used the last of his power to blast at Carmine as he knew that Kieran would save her. And that does happen. Carmine would be overwhelmed with guilt from that incident onwards. Since Kieran is now trapped in the timeline where the future paradox Pokémon live. Which is why I said this ending has a hollow victory, the protagonists won, but at what cost?

Kieran would break out of Pecharunt’s control later on by the protags, only to suffer later on again.

Since if I were to put in Pecharunt’s words when asked by the protagonists:

“The world has betrayed me, so why should I play fair?!”

(He can speak but choosing to Poké speak instead)

SORRY FOR RAMBLING ON AGAIN. I have some ideas but I think I gone a bit overboard. But again, you choose to use any of these ideas if you want!

WTF THIS ANSWER GOES HARD!!! I DONT THINK YOU REALIZE IT BUT YOURE A BIT ON THE NOSE WITH WHAT I BELIEVE ABOUT PECHARUNT WOULD IN PROJECT VENUS! Ofc, I wanna keep the twists and turns surprises, so I can't rlly go in-depth with how right you might be or WHO "Project Venus" is.

But I do believe that Pecharunt could absorb souls and release them, or like the toxic chain, chain those souls to itself (Think of how Shinigami gets Yuma to follow her around in Rain Code)

But it is also parasitic, in which it infects itself onto a main host and then that host has most of its power, which it can inflict onto others via zombification, resurrection, etc!

I cant say who or what gets possessed in Project Venus other than the obvious, but I'll say that the idea will actualky be used in canon, soon.

About Carmine...she is HEAVILY GUILTY for how she treated her brother, and in the fic I plan for Carmine and other characters to have tender moments, as pokémon doesn't fully get to delve into the nitty-gritty of family issues like I want them to (ie. Grief, jealousy, tension, etc.) And we already see such an example with Millie and her mother

I wanna cover as many bases as I can without making Millie seem like a "woe is meee" type character. While she is our protag and she has her moments I want to allow her, and many others, to at least gave clarity

ALSO PLEASE DON'T APOLOGIZE! YOUR RAMBLES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED AND IT'S MOTIVATING ME TO WRITE AGAIN! I SHOULD REALLY GET TO WORK ON THE NEXT CHAPTER SOON TBH LOL BUT UT DOES MEAN BUNCHES YOU SHOW GREAT INTEREST!!!

#project venus mystery of the indigo disk #pokémon #pokemon oc #pokemon #pokemon fic #pokemon fanfiction #dokutaro #pecharunt #pokemon au #rambles #pokemon the indigo disk #pokemon theory #pokemon sv #pokemon indigo disk #indigo disk #i love these ideas #you gave me an idea on how i could justify keeping pecharunts name dokutaro #you are a smart cookie KEEP RAMBLING #project venus #project venus number one fan right there

[sushisempai]

ACOTAR Head canons and short fic/fluff prompts I would love to see. I've been messaging with my bff about this stuff for weeks and finally am just going for it. Feel free to steal but please tag me so I can read them!!

Feysand

I want to see that one menstrual cycle they had after they started trying to get pregnant because we know it was about 9 months between ACOFAS and ACOSF and I love that Rhys had already worked out permission to be a mother hen but now there was even more pressure on it.

I would love to see more of the stuff we didn't get to see about the pregnancy because we (the readers) were with Nesta, the baby kicking, Feyre being emotional. You know Nuala and Cerridwen knew before anyone else. Did they dote? Were they sneaking her treats? What was the story with Rhys's old sweater? How did the conversation with Elain go when she figures it out?

I really want to see more of the art studio and what it was like while she was pregnant. Did the kids say things? Ask to paint her belly? What was all that like with Ressina? Does Ressina become friends with Rhys? Does Feyre go back to teaching with her baby strapped to her chest? Does Ressina help with Nyx? Do the kids? Do the families of the kids start to get comfortable around Rhys?

I feel like it’s basically canon that Rhys is bi. My Mom is bi and she likes to point out girls with nice racks to my dad just to make him, and their daughters tbh, uncomfortable but he does it back. Family inside joke lol. I totally picture this for Feysand. As Rhys is like always trying to get another male in their bed, I also can see Feyre turning this on him like “He’s nice, what about him?”

Nessian

Cassian would want all the kids and be like a *devoted* dad and despite her attitude I think Nesta would be an awesome mom. Cassian wants a huge family but Nesta will put a limit on it, so like that conversation in itself would be fun to see. I'm also thinking about how long lived they are, so Cassian will be like, "if there aren't at least 3 at a time it won't be enough chaos." Besides you know the house will be in on it. Forget childproofing.

Use this or don’t but basically my head canon is, I decided that Cassian and Nesta have the same spread of kids as the Carpenters in Dresden files. Oldest to youngest girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, girl, boy. I like this spread for them because I just love the idea of them having a big family.

Nessian Family stuff that is extra and emotional

I could also see Cassian just bringing home orphans, once they're established, like he hasn't felt competent to do so before but once he and Nesta are established he would be like "What's one more? Especially if you don't have to carry it!" "He's ready potty trained and the house will help!"

Up until now we haven't heard anything about the women who come to the library having kids. What if that is something Nesta and Cassian change?

If it helps you understand why this Nessian part went off the rails, I do trauma work with kids and teens and that has included a fair number of foster kids. So I think at a certain point this head canon got personal for me, so keep that in mind if you are like “Why does this crazy lady have so many specifics about bringing home kids.” But we also see how freaking relevent this is the Az and Cass! So I really feel this head canon.

I can completely picture Valkery training with adopted and traumatized teens, a baby strapped to Nesta's front as she teaches, a toddler on Cassian's shoulder as he teaches, Emorie tossing a kid to work her arms. Feyre and Nyx even joining sometimes.

Kids in general

I know a lot of people like the idea of Az as a Dad and I could get behind that (so please don’t blast me I enjoy those fics too!) But I can see Az being totally fine without kids. I can see him really enjoying hanging out with the madness of Cassian and Nesta's brood, or hanging with Rhys and Feyre and Nyx, and then enjoying some peace and quiet as well. Not everyone wants kids and there is no reason why he wouldn’t be an awesome and devoted uncle. I would love seeing his special relationships with all the kids.

At what age are the kids old enough to participate in the snowball fight and how does that work? I can’t imagine them telling the kids “no girls.” That is maddness. Not from our fae feminist bat boys! But especially if they all had different numbers of kids or Az didn’t have his own they would want to split everyone up and be fair! Though Az is of course super competative. I could see him calling dibs on older adopted kids or sweet talking some of Cassiens boys. He would sweet talk all the kids into being on his team, except Nyx who'd be stupid loyal. And I'm just gonna go with Cassian's daughters in specific would be always on his team because I love the idea of Cass having like 4 daddy’s girls.

Crackship Elain/Ruhn (hear me out) Cresent City crossover

There are a lot of possible ships out there that go against established mating bonds and it has been established that there is now ownership or inherent “right” to a person just because of the bond. Right?

Ok, if we're gonna undo mating bonds to troll the fandom, and the books are crossing over anyways, then my ideal crackship would be Ruhn and Elain. Have Elain come over to Cresent City to get a break from the maddness at home only to find new and different maddness!

It would be all of the precious cinnamon roll anyone can handle it any given time. They would take care of eachother, dote on eachother.

She would look at all of his tattoos and scars and talk about how beautiful they were. And he would just tell her over and over again how sexy she is without making her self conscious or objectified.

Right now she's like a toy the boys are fighting over. Ruhn would make her feel seen. And she would make him feel whole and special and valid.

Declan and Fynn would also dote on her!

#all the adorable children #acotar #nessian #cassian fanfic #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #feysand #feyre #nyx #feyre archeron #high lady feyre #rhysand #cresent city #ruhn danaan #elain archeron #gpoy #nessian fanfic #writing prompts #acotar prompts #I really hope some of these get written #feyre x rhysand #or even if you just enjoy my head canons with me #thank you for coming to my ted talk #If this goes well maybe I'll post more of the maddness in my head

[mklegends-smokescreen]

Mortal Kombat Legends: Smoke Screen Chapter 2: Special Forces

The next day, some where on close by, Kano, the stereotypical Australian asshole with a laser eye, leads his Black Dragon clan into a portal to Outworld, to finally rid themselves of the Special Forces.

Kano: All right, this is it, boys. We're getting' in there and kicking some Outworld ass!

Kano, and the Black Dragon, then go through the portal.

Jax Briggs and Sonya Blade, Special Forces Majors, along with a dozen soliders followed them to the portal, but it was to late, it was already closed and they have escaped.

Jax: Shit, they got away.

Sonya: When they come back, we'll be ready, Jax...

Sub and Smoke have been spying on this situation, after being sent to investigate the commotion.

Sub Zero: What do you recon?

Smoke: We should alert the Grand master, tell him we need a way to travel between realms, to stop this, "Black Dragon". They have caused far too much chaos in this realm. And perhaps join these two, after all, strength is in numbers-

Sub Zero: Are you insane?! They could both try kill us at any moment.

Smoke: You *Really* have trust issues, huh?

Sub Zero, rolling his eyes: Fine, but if they do turn on us, I will go for the kill.

The two ninjas drop down, alerting the the Special Forces majors.

Jax, taking a stance: FREEZE!

Sonya: Did Kano leave you here to kill us?

Smoke:(geasturing toward Sub Zero) He could freeze you at any moment, and no, we are here to stop these Black Drago—

Jax: Nice try, Gray scale, you will be comin' with us, by any means nessecary.

Sub Zero: I'll handle these two, you whatch my back.

Smoke nods his head, and the fight commences. Jax charges at Sub Zero with full force, which he dodges, but is shot in his side by Sonya. Smoke is teleporting all around to knock out as many soliders as possible, while also defending Kuai. Eventually, Smoke knocks out the soliders and rushes at Sonya, pushing her out of Kuai's reach. Kuai makes an ice wall which he pushes Jax into, stunning him for a second, while Smoke is fairing well with Sonya. She shoots at him with her repulsor gautlets which he dodges by turning into mist and teleporting behind her, kicking her out of the way, Sub Zero stuck Jax to the ground and is preparing to finish Jax with an ice axe.

Smoke: Kuai, no!

Sonya ran up to Smoke, putting him into a choke hold.

Sonya: Alright, i'll ask you this one time... where is Kano?

Sub Zero: I'll do you one better, WHO is Kano?

Jax: I'll do you one better, WHY is Kano!?

Smoke seemed confused to say the least.

Sonya: You better tell me where that Ausie is, or i'm french-frying this freak.

She said, aiming her gautlet at Smoke's head

Sub Zero: Alright, you shoot my guy, i'll blast him, LETS GO!

He said creating an axe of ice    

Jax: Do it, Sonya! I can take it...

Smoke: No, he can't take it.

Sub Zero: He's right, you can't.

Sonya: You don't wanna tell me, thats fiiiine, i'll kill both of you, find and beat it out of Hsu Hao myself, starting with you-

Sub Zero recalled hearing that name before

Sub Zero: Wait, did you say Hsu H-- Ok, let me ask you this one time... What master, do you serve?

Sonya: „What master do i serve“? What am i suppose to say, JESUS?

Sub Zero melted the ice off of Jax, but still kept him on the floor

Sub Zero: You're not with them.

Sonya: No shit, Sherlock. And who are you two?

Smoke phased through Sonya's hands.

Smoke: We are Lin Kuei, madam. And we do not wish you any harm.

Sonya: Didn't really prove that to our soliders.

Sub Zero: They're not dead, just knocked out cold.

Jax: Thats believable, commin' from you, Chill Bill.

Sub Zero, lending his hand to help Jax up: Give up the sense of humor, and i might not need to freeze you completely.

Jax, pushing Sub Zero's hand away: I hope not. Name's Jax Briggs, Special Forces major, and thats commander Sonya Blade.

Smoke: Tomas Vrbada, but you may call me Smoke, and this is my closest friend, Kuai Liang. He bares the mantile of Sub Zero. I believe there is a way to find this, Kano with ease, Commander, if you trust us, that is.

Jax, who stood up and whispered to Sonya: Maybe they're right, we could use the help.

Sonya: (releases a sigh) Alright, but we need to take you with us to our HQ for questioning.

Sonya calls a chopper to take everyone with them, along with Smoke and Kuai, it takes about thirty minutes for it to get there but they waited out and they took off to the Special Forces Head Quarters.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat au #mortal Kombat legends #kuai liang #mk sub zero #mk smoke #tomas vrbada

[acacia-may]

Hi Acacia! 💕

For your 100 writer's ask game what about 2, 16, 31 and 78?

Thank you so much for the ask, Lola and for playing the ask game for fic writers! I'd love to answer these for you. Sorry my responses got so rambly 😅🙈 I've gone ahead and put them under the cut.

2. Talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “f*** your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

So in my very first big fanfiction project ever (which thankfully was never posted to the internet & we can all just forget about...or we could if I just never brought it up lol), I had an OC completely change his personality from what was in my head in the minute I started writing him. He was supposed to be serious, principled, driven, and intense, but when I put him in the scene, he just kept cracking jokes and was charismatic, outgoing, and kind of goofy. I was stunned but kept going with the draft not really knowing what to do and thinking I'd just fix it later, and when I gave the draft of the chapter to my friend (irl) who was Beta-reading for me, I shared my frustrations with how this character wasn't anything like I imagined in my head and she said, "Acacia, he is my new favorite character, and if you change his personality from what it is now, I will stop reading this and never talk to you again" so he stayed lol 😂 (And eventually became one of my favorites too!)

That's probably the most dramatic example I can think of, but as an extensive plotter, I have definitely had my fair share of scenarios where my stories take a turn during the actual writing process that I wasn't expecting and I have to readjust (which is never fun but I think is often for the best). For instance, in my role-reversal/magic-swap Astelle fic "Broken Angel" Liebe just randomly showed up towards the end when Noelle tapped into her Anti-Magic and that was nowhere in any draft, outline, or even a thought I had had about the story before he just appeared there, but I think getting to explore the connection between him and Noelle was an important addition to that story in the end. It can be good to deviate from our original plans sometimes, even though I do struggle to stay flexible & tend to get frustrated when it happens. 😅

16. Where is your favorite place to write?

I write in my room more often than not [or sometimes I'll write while I'm undergoing medical treatment because there's nothing else to do 😅], BUT my favorite place to plot & walk through scenes in my head is outside in my yard or on my porch swing. Not sure why but I just always feel really creative there, especially when I listen to music.

31. Tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

One of my characters...like an OC? 😳 I mean I'm pretty biased but I have an absolute blast writing Zoey. She's so dry and quick-witted (at least I hope she comes off that way) and writing her bantering with the other characters is just so much fun for me to write, especially when she's such a foil to the POV character (Hero) who is so reserved and sincere. That said, we get to see in the canon that he likes to tease to show affection to his friends & family too--he's just shy about it so I like to think the two of them can play off each other really well, especially when they become closer friends and feel more comfortable teasing each other, like in "Under the Weather" which is the self-indulgent story I wrote for my birthday.

Apologies but I'll allow myself an excerpt here just to show you what I'm talking about. I had way too much fun writing all these jokes about Hero's "grandpa pajamas" (which he actually wears for a big portion of the actual game/canon 😂) and having the two of them banter about it. (A/N: this story is a sick fic & he has the flu which is why he is in pajamas in the first place):

"It’s just…that’s not what I meant. I was just…embarrassed. I mean you’ve already had to see me in my pajamas.” Hero stared down at his pajama shirt and pulled on the collar as his face burned and not just from the fever. “Your grandpa pajamas?” Zoey teased dryly. His face flushed, but he nodded. Chuckling lightly, Zoey shook her head. “You do realize I’ve seen Kyle in his underwear more times than I’d care to admit, right? This is nothing. And besides, I’ve already seen them before.” “You’ve”—Hero’s voice cracked—“seen my pajamas?” “Well not in person, but Sunny drew me a picture of you in them.” “Sunny drew you a picture of me in my pajamas?” Hero repeated incredulously in a disbelieving, hoarse voice. Zoey shrugged but answered matter-of-factly. “He only draws you in your pajamas. He draws everybody in pajamas. You know, the last time I saw him he asked me about my pajamas so he could draw me in pajamas too.” “Why—?” Hero’s voice hitched—cut off by an awkward laugh and wheezy coughing. “Why would he do that?” “No idea. You tell me.” She paused, but Hero could only shrug his shoulders. Sunny was a talented artist, but Hero would be lying if he said he understood a lot of his abstract pieces or the reasoning behind them. Zoey’s guess as to why Sunny wanted to draw everyone in pajamas was as good as his, he supposed. “But I’m pretty sure he always draws you in these exact pajamas—long sleeves, button down shirt, stripes. I remember thinking ‘why does Sunny think Hero wears grandpa pajamas?’ but clearly it’s because you do.” Hero chuckled lightly but tilted his head at her. “What’s wrong with my pajamas?” “Nothing—if you’re over the age of 70,” bantered Zoey.

78. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

I'll admit I struggle a lot with endings, especially in the chapters of a multi-chapter fic. I usually know how the story or chapter will end in a general, vague sense, but it's always a struggle to decide what exact sentence or sentiment to end with. Sometimes I'll accidentally stumble into writing the perfect ending sentence which is always such a relief or I will have those "last words" in mind from the time I start writing. But most of the time it's more of a struggle to determine that cut-off point and I'll just start rambling until I find something I like. More so than anything else, endings are probably what I rewrite the most between drafts before posting. Some stories will have the ending written 4 or 5 times before I finally find something I like.

I hope I manage to write some poignant endings. I think the ending of "Tell Me Where It Hurts" is probably the one I'm most proud of, but that was a one shot. I think ending chapters of an ongoing story is a lot harder because you have to wrap up the main ideas of the chapter while also setting up the next one. I'll admit I get a little overwhelming by how daunting that is sometimes. I don't have a lot of multi-chapter works to choose examples from, but I think my favorite ending to any chapter in "When Sun Shines Again" so far was this one from Chapter 6 because it got really deep & philosophical (A/N: I don't think there are any big/specific OMORI spoilers in here, but uh...if you know, you know I guess...):

His chest ached—hollow and panging with a pain that would never really go away. He almost wanted to say that all of his experiences with the butterfly effect had been negative, painful…but then he thought about Kel…thought about him knocking on Sunny’s door three days before he was supposed to move away. He thought about Sunny opening it for him and venturing outside for the first time in four years. He thought about Aubrey suggesting they all stay at Basil’s house on Sunny’s last night in Faraway Town. And venturing deep into his memories of that long, distant past that often felt like nothing but a dream now, Hero thought about Mari again—her insistence that they help Aubrey when she was just a crying little girl who lost her shoe or that they take care of Basil and his garden. Or long, long before that…he thought about his dad buying a potted cactus and suggesting they take it over to their new neighbors. People never seemed to think of the impact of their smallest decisions. Hero certainly hadn’t before, and even now, he wasn’t really thinking of it, wasn’t really expecting Kyle’s assertions to be anything more than impassioned attempts to get him out of the house and to play ‘designated driver.’ But as it turned out, years later, whenever Hero would mentally list those seemingly insignificant but life-altering decisions, he would always throw in this moment when his mouth twitched into a conceding smile and he sighed, “Alright, Kyle. Just let me go change my clothes first; then we’ll head out.”

#writer asks #acacia's ramblings #thank you so much for the ask lola #ask games

[rancidtae]

NAERI STATION: INTERLUDE | (TEASER)

Genre: angst, fluff, smut. coming of age au. mafia au. Warnings: Graphic violence, Strong language, Mature content. Pairing: bts & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah) - Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character - Kim Namjoon/Original Female Character summary: the one where the kids play with fire, and Yoongi is angry angry.

a/n: here it is! this is a prequel to arcadia's lullaby, my exo focused fic that is still in the works. I remember someone telling me they enjoyed Jiah's and Yoongi's interactions in there and since I already had a lot of backstory in my mind and I miss the 7s, I decided to give them a much-deserved story of their own.

This story will be set before the events in AL and it'll cover my OFC's adventures, canonic events, pains of teenage adulthood, and relationships between 2014-2018, with the tannies as main characters of course. hope you'll enjoy and as always, feedback is welcomed :)

coming soon (very soon)

>> March 2014. Three months after Hwacheon's fire.

“So, whose idea was it?” Yoongi demanded. 

Their heads whipped in his direction, features momentarily frozen. They’d been too invested in talking their ears off and blasting Whatever by Oasis on Jimin’s phone to hear him as he made his way down the creaky stairs.

“We were all playing, hyung, it’s not like it’s only one person–”

Jungkook was making a fair point, but Taehyung and Jimin sneakily tilted their heads at the only girl in the room, sitting with one chopstick in each fist resting on the table, ready to dig in.

“So it was you, then. May I ask what the fuck you were thinking?”

Ok, maybe he was overdoing it with the f-word and the whole bad cop stalking inside the questioning room. She didn’t flinch or even blink at his approaching figure, but the boys’ eyes widened. They shared concerned side glances, just making sure the worried is shared: shit, he’s angry angry.

“It’s just a game my friends used to play,” she answered.

Yoongi realized then that he hadn’t heard her talk much in the past weeks. She seemed content sitting and hanging around in silence most of the time, letting the trio take the lead, paying attention to Jin’s questions, and offering short answers.

And what happened the first time she’d decided to take some initiative? He was left with a burnt patch of grass in his backyard, dangerously close to the boat and the shed. It was bitch to put out even between the five of them, because only dirt kills diesel fire.

And to top it all off he was just getting home after commuting back from Seoul.

So they dealt with that. Then he went up for a much-needed shower, only to come back down and find them warming up dinner, plating it and all, stinking like smoke and dirt.

“And what game was that, forest fire?”

The four answered in unison. “Hot potato.” 

Taehyung went on to explain how it goes. You tie a knot in the middle of a knee sock, soak it in diesel, set it on fire and throw it around. First one to drop it's the loser. Jimin kicked him under the table before he further elaborated on the rules of such a riveting recreational activity.

But Yoongi got stuck on a detail. “So you have friends, and you remember Hot Potato. I guess your short-term amnesia just– poofed away”

That one landed, and it landed well. She turned away from him before he was done talking —a gesture so rude he would’ve first stuck his hand down the toilet before attempting it at his parent’s house– and went on to grab her chopsticks again.

Jimin was fascinated, Taehyung? Horrified. Jungkook was just a ball of mortification staring at her. 

Not a second went by, she didn’t even get to put them properly between her fingers before Yoongi hooked a finger on the bowl and pulled it away from her reach. The steaming, spicy broth sloshed around, nearly touching his skin.

“I guess you can now tell us what’s your story, then.”

She could. Jungkook wouldn’t do it but he could attest to this. He’d caught a faraway look in her eyes sometimes, looking at them during dinner, playing Mario 64 when they got to Whomp's fortress and stood close to the piranha plant, setting off a soft lullaby, or sometimes looking out of the window at night. People don’t visibly remember things, and miss and regret without having a story to tell.

“I can’t,” she said, looking sideways at the bowl, specifically at the one piece of bok choy she meant to pick first. Revenge was brewing under the calm in her eyes. “It’s classified information, and you don’t have the clearance”

“That so?” 

“It is so.” she met his eye, hands folded on her lap, mockingly polite.

Yoongi squinted at the girl, the same one that Jin, god bless him, had worried would face some sort of neurological damage after the shit she went through. They’d been running all kinds of tests on her at the hospital, for her head, her ears and her heart, but as it is, Yoongi just needed to talk to her and leave no room for further bullshit to successfully diagnose her as a little shit.

“Well, no worries. I’m overthrowing the classification system. You’re free to tell us all about it.” he assured, tone light, walking around the kitchen table and getting himself a glass of water. 

The boys tried to do damage control behind his back, He could see them all in the reflection of the dirty window by the sink. Jungkook vehemently shook his head at her, Taehyung made an x with both arms, Jimin tried to hold back his laughter.

“Under what jurisdiction?”

Tearing his eyes away from the sun disappearing down the lake, Yoongi made his way over and flattened both hands on the surface of the table. “Under it’s my house you’re living in and my food you’re eating jurisdiction, how about that?”

“Hyung–” Jimin tried to say, but she beat him to it.

“I’m sorry we almost burnt the backyard,” she stated, very businesslike, wearing Taehyun’s old, frayed snoopy sweatshirt that crickets visibly feasted upon.

“And the house.” 

“And the house,” she repeated. Jungkook nodded to himself, satisfied. His eyes had been bouncing between the girl and his usually laid-back hyung. Worried that things would escalate. “Can I have my bowl?” 

“No. Were you raised by wolves, huh? You’re supposed to wait for the eldest to start eating.”

“Hyung, aren’t you being too harsh?” Taehyung winced, also trying to play Pyromaniac’s Advocate. “Hyung said she might have brain damage.”

She did not take well to that, but she kept her mouth shut. Yoongi held back a chuckle.

“I’ll deal with you three later,” 

Yoongi knew letting a girl stay would mess up the dynamic.

He’d expected it to be the result of either hormones, Jungkook being socially stunted when it comes to members of the female population, jealousy, or bathroom arrangements. He failed to consider that they'd find a nameless girl with a smart mouth and act like she’s a pup they really want to keep; can we, hyung? We’ll take her on walks, and let her suck diesel out of the boat’s tank.

He turned back to her, sighing. This wouldn’t do. 

“Listen, I don’t give a shit who you are or what happened with you, but you’re going to have to figure out what you want to do.” 

How old was she, again? Not much older than Jungkook probably, maybe even younger? 

“What do I want to do?” 

“Uh-huh. I’m not gonna have you slugging around, coming up with shitty games, and hot potatoing my property. Think of something, and we’ll figure it out.” he paused, noticing the glint in her eye. “Just don’t get too greedy, this is a working-class household. We’ll find something for you, it’ll do you well.”

High School Yoongi would’ve clutched his hammer and sickle if he could hear him talk about how work dignifies. But that was before he moved out of his parent's house, and somehow ended up living with a bunch of kids.

The girl blinked up at him, and it might’ve been the first time he’d seen her smile.

“I’d like to eat my bowl of malatang. Please.”

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #bts mafia au #yoongi fanfiction #jin fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios

[colderdrafts]

4: The Race

The Great Assembly, gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). Sfw. Previous Next

The morning alarm hits you like a truck, and you moan in protest, pulling your pillow over your head.

"Nooo, on god," comes an equally unhappy groan from Irwin in the other bed. "Eugh, everything hurts. Why is the light so goddamn loud?" he whines, followed by the sound of ruffling fabric as he hides under the covers.

You can't help but snicker at him, your voice muffled through the fluff of your pillow. "Hungover, my weak-livered little friend?"

Irwin groans again and throws his pillow at you. "Boss man deliberately told you to keep an eye on me. It's your fault I got so drunk."

"You're a grown ass adult. Don't blame me for your own short comings,” you throw his pillow back at him.

Irwin whines.

“’Sides,” you continue, “I could have been glued to your side all evening and it wouldn't have made any difference. Would you honestly have listened to me if I'd told you to stop?"

He peeks out from under the covers and blows raspberries at you, but leans back, relenting. "Fair."

You both take a few seconds to adjust to the horrendous ordeal of being awake.

"Ugh. Okay. Yes, okay, obligations. Responsibility. Right. What time is it?" Irwin asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms.

"7am," you reply grimly, rolling out of bed.

"Ew," Irwin says.

7am gives you plenty of time for a morning routine consisting of a shower, putting on some outdoor wear for today's activity, and drinking any caffeine you can come in contact with. Irwin pops a bunch of painkillers to nurse his tremendous headache, though it seems he's not alone. Most people seem either extremely tired or hungover, and the 8am sharp breakfast has done no one any favors.

Mrs. Hansen, in all her fae glory, seems nonetheless completely unaffected as she takes the stand in the common room to address her subordinates.

"Goood-absolutely great morning everyone! Thank you for last night, I had an absolute blast. And thank you all for being here bright and early and ready to tackle the day!"

She gets a few unhappy groans in response, and chuckles.

"Don't worry, some fresh mountain air and you'll all be better. Now, for the main event of today, it is time to figure out who your partner will be for the last and arduous journey on this conference. As such;"

Mrs. Hansen takes off her hat, and open a paper bag full of what looks like small crumpled pieces of paper. She dumps them into the hat.

"One person from each department will draw one name from my hat. Whoever they get will trade places with them, ensuring cross-department partners. If you draw your own name or someone from a department that has already been picked, you redraw. Capisce?"

An acknowledging murmur goes through the crowd, and Mrs. Hansen beams. "Very well. Let the drawing begin!"

A few people start lining up, one from each department. Irwin quickly volunteers to be the one to draw from your department, meaning he will trade places with whoever he gets.

"It's a workaround way to say that your fate lies in my hands," he grins. "Don't worry, I'll get you a good one," he winks, and goes to draw.

You look around again at the people already picked, and find Mira peeking from the kitchen door. You wave slightly, and she smiles. You feel kinda bad for her, she must be feeling left out at this point.

"Aah, my favorite master of poker is here!" Mrs. Hansen says, and Irwin looks at her puzzled.

"Poker?" he muses. "I have no idea how to play poker."

She laughs warmly. "Well you sure showed us last night! Now, go ahead and draw."

Irwin looks at her quizzically as it dawns on him he hasn’t the foggiest idea of what happened last night, but he reaches into her hat and fumbles around for a bit regardless. You're on the edge of your seat when he picks up a small crumpled piece of paper and unfolds it.

"Oh," he says, and smiles. "That's me. Whoops. Can't pick myself. Unless there's another one here with the extremely handsome name, Irwin?"

He earns some chuckles from the crowd, and Mrs. Hansen smiles. "I'm afraid you're our one and only."

"Good!" Irwin grins, and goes to draw again.

He picks out another piece, and unfolds it dramatically slowly. His smile, however, fades quickly as he reads, and his eyes promptly settles on you.

You feel a pit in your stomach.

"Irwin will be trading places with Amren, it seems!" Mrs. Hansen announces, reading over his shoulder. "Good on you for getting security on your team, eh?"

"Yeah, hah. Lucky us!" Irwin gives a strained smile.

You glance around and quickly spot Amren next to Elise, who looks back at you. His expression is completely unreadable. You try a small smile, which he slightly tilts his head at, but doesn't return.

You groan internally. Whoever writes your fate has a cliché sense of humor to pair you with the one guy here who actively dislikes you. Somehow, you feel like you should have seen it coming.

Irwin returns to his seat next to you, somewhat pensively. "Whoops. But, hey, no boarbeasts will come at you with Mr. Scary Naga around, right?"

He elbows you playfully.

You shrug at him. It’s most definitely not ideal, but who knows. You could choose to hold hope that maybe you just got off on the wrong foot with Amren. It has, after all, only been two days.

“It'll be fine. And Elise will most definitely enjoy having to keep an eye on your messy ass."

You haven't known Elise for long, but you figure anyone new to Irwin will clash dramatically with the never-ending tornado that makes up his personality.

He scoffs at you. "My ass is extremely well rounded and nice looking, and she should be grateful to look at it, thank you very much!"

After the division, everyone is herded to the front lawn, and given supplies for the trip. People are provided with a tent relative to their size, food, emergency kits and water. You clip your sleeping bag to the backpack, and haul it all up – though frown when you find your warm beanie is missing. Drat. You quickly duck back to your room to see if you can’t sniff it out, though to no avail. It’s gone. Guess you’ll have to make do with the hood on your jacket.

Returning to the front lawn, you see Mrs. Hansen has organized a makeshift starting line to really seal the deal it's a race. She’s been creative with a bunch of white and black plastic bags and a bunch of tape. How they’re not immediately being whisked away by the breeze is beyond you, but you cross it off as fae miracles.

‘Racing’, however, might be a bit generous. Looking at the still hungover and tired expressions of most people gathered here, your guess is 'running' is not first on their list of priorities.

Irwin and Elise has already met up and are ready at the starting line. Elise laughs at something Irwin said, so it seems he's already working his extravagant social magic.

You feel an immense amount of betrayal.

Turning around, you almost bump face-first into someone's buttoned up shirt, and look up to find that Amren has somehow managed to sneak up behind you. You take a step backwards.

"It would be a lot easier to watch where I'm going if you didn't sneak up on me like that," you deadpan at him.

He shrugs. “You should learn to watch your surroundings better.”

“Kinda difficult with you all the way up there.”

“Climb a tree, then. Make up for your short comings.”

“What an exceptionally wonderful idea, Amren.”

“You’re welcome, Tiny.”

You roll your eyes at obnoxious nickname he’s apparently given you, decide now’s not the time for his bull, and nod toward the starting line. You’ve got some clovers to win. “Let’s get going.”

#colderwriting #monster romance #gender neutral reader #x reader #monster lover #naga

[cynicalrainbows]

Yellowjackets no-crash au. Shauna's having the best time ever at Brown and she doesn't miss Jackie anyone at all.

*

 The money is sticky in her hand as she carries the pregnancy test to the counter. Students, clutching packets of ramen and jars of instant coffee, crowd around her, bumping gently against one another like the bubbles of lava in her dorm room lamp, the lamp that she’d picked out so defiantly, no Jackie no one to tell me it’s the sort of thing potheads buy, no one to put me down, I’m free, I’m free, I’m-

(In fact, no one commented on the lamp at all, not even her roommate, not even when she’d balanced it precariously on the edge of her desk to make it more visible, and it had ended up buried at the back of her closet, behind the uniform that had somehow inexplicably made its way into her suitcase.)

She gets into line behind a boy with a boombox blasting out an account of the life of Robespierre balanced precariously on his shoulder and a girl whose every movement makes her jelly shoes squeak unbearably against the linoleum.

They don’t even look at her but Shauna tries to hide the package in her hand anyway.

It’s probably nothing. It’s nothing. But just to be sure…

She used to use the same reasoning on Jackie back then, back before: Oh I know you totally don’t have a migraine….but you should take an aspirin anyway. Oh I know you’re not tired and definitely don’t need a break…..but come sit with me anyway. Oh I know that you totally ate breakfast this morning….but if you don’t eat this cereal bar, it’s going to go all crumbly in my bag so just eat it.

Shauna wonders if she can logic away her Schrodinger's foetus- if I don’t take a pregnancy test, that means I’m in denial and then I’ll definitely  BE pregnant, but if I take one now…..

The Jackie-in-her-head snorts and rolls her eyes before Shauna can remember not to think about her.

No. Go away. Go back to Rutgers. Or don’t. Not that I care.

The cashier wrinkles her nose as Shauna counts the coins out onto the counter.

She hasn’t carried money like this- in her hand, all the way from her dorm room- for years, not since she’d tripped on the curb outside the grocery store on Saturday afternoon and her carefully saved allowance quarters went rolling wildly and neither she nor Jackie had been able to reach far enough under the car to retrieve the couple that hadn’t simply vanished.

‘Told you you should have put it in a purse.’ Jackie doesn’t say it meanly,but the fact that her own allowance money is still safe inside the zippable Hello Kitty pouch that half the girls in their grade, Shauna included, are currently lusting after is enough to make Shauna consider accidentally-on-purpose tripping her.

‘I don’t have a purse.’

She won’t. Obviously. 

‘I thought you were going to ask your mom for one?’

‘She said they were too expensive.’

Jackie strokes Hello Kitty’s pristine white fur.

‘Oh.’

But just as she’s edging ever so slightly too close, her feet just ever so slightly clumsier than usual, Jackie stops abruptly, unhooks the strap from around her shoulder and scrabbles up a handful of coins.

‘You can have this one.’

She’s walking again already, carefully stuffing the coins in the pocket of her shorts, glancing back to Shauna.

‘Come on! My mom said you can’t sleep over if we’re not back in time for dinner!’

Shauna’s left standing still, Hello Kitty now limp in her hands. Somehow it’s lost its magic, now that it’s in her possession: she knows without having to see it happen that the fur will grey and the zip will stick. It’s not the same, it’s not the same and it’s not fair: not fair that Jackie could give it up so easily, not fair it’s always that way round (when has Jackie ever wanted anything of Shauna’s, when has anyone?), it’s not fair that doing this sort of thing seems to come to Jackie so easily, and it’s not fair that Shauna can’t just feel happy and grateful like a normal person would….

But it’s not Jackie’s fault and when she catched up, she hugs her hard enough to make Jackie squeak and proclaims her the best friend ever.

And it’s totally, absolutely, definitely an accident that Jackie trips on the curb on the way home.

When she gets back to her dorm, her room is thick with the fug of hairspray as she teases her limp blonde tresses into a painstakingly crafted ‘casual’ messy ponytail.

‘Hey.’

Shauna stows the paper bag carefully in her bedside drawer, layeringing hand cream and hair ties onto it until she realises that if she was going for ‘inconspicuous’, she’s failed.

Not that it matters- when she looks up, her roommate isn’t even looking in her direction.

‘Are you going out?’

‘Yeah.’ At last, she turns around from the dressing table. ‘You can come if you want.’

It’s not the most enthusiastic invitation in the world, and Shauna has enough pride to recognise a pity invite.

‘Nah, I was going to-’

What? What were you going to do after you finish peeing on a stick? Celebrate not having Jackie anyone to drag you to parties by staying home alone? Make another list in your journal about how great your life is, now that the only person making you feel invisible is you?

But it doesn’t matter. Her roommate isn’t listening.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #shauna shipman #shaunajackie #jackieshauna #yellowjackets au #character study