#and on the flip side every time I use it in real life conversation no one knows what I mean

[macadam]

I’m starting to think the term greebled is not a real word people use outside the robot fandom

[xhmeusworld]

high & dry | choi seungcheol

genre: smut, angst, best friend! seungcheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x gender neutral reader

warnings: dom! cheol, fingering, dirty talk, begging. absolute filth honestly

note: this was originally wrote with a different idol in mind, but i just had to make it cheol.

honestly, no matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how he came into your life. he was always just there.

choi seungcheol was a part of your earliest memories.

you contributed this to the fact that your mother enrolled you in soccer when you were four, the coach being seungcheol’s dad. on that field is where you first laid eyes on the dark-haired boy. every practice, cheol always accompanied his father and you two become friends almost immediately.

it was no surprise to both of your parents.

“what if y/n and cheol get married when they’re older?”

“i’m literally already planning the wedding.”

you were three. cheol was five when that conversation occurred between both of your moms. you remembered hearing it when it was time to leave the soccer field, but you were obviously too young to know what they were talking about.

all you knew was that cheol was your best friend.

from there on out, the two of you were inseparable. where one went, the other followed. if one jumped, the other jumped.

entering kindergarten, you remembered feeling so excited just because you could see cheol more, only to be disappointed when you learned that he was ahead of you in second grade.

he was there for you when homework stressed you out to point where he ended up finishing it for you. he was there to get you ice cream in the early hours of the morning.

he was there for you when your prom date stood you up, leaving you a sobbing mess in front of your house.

he was even there for you through your first real breakup freshman year of high school. you knew cheol didn’t like him anyway.

“why is everyone looking at me?” you asked cheol as you moved through the hallway, preparing to go to next period. you awkwardly kept your head down toward your feet as hushed whispers reached your ears.

your best friend softly touched your back in reassurance, but he was clearly as confused as you were. “just ignore them, y/n. clearly they don’t ha-“

his voice abruptly stopped as well as his feet as you neared your locker, a large group of students surrounding it. you moved your head up to see what was going on at the same time cheol grabbed you and turned you into his chest. “don’t look!”

at this point, his advice came too late as you caught a glimpse of the red spray paint that was covering your locker. you felt like you were going to be sick when the word registered with you.

slut.

“do you think we will always be friends?”

your voice broke the silence of cheol’s room, which was only illuminated by his green LED lights. after the incident at school, you couldn’t bring yourself to be alone and you weren’t surprised when he offered to let you stay the night.

cheol flashed you his signature smile, the smile that had your heart doing flips in your chest. he rolled over onto his side to face you, using his arm to prop himself up to look at your face. you were resisting the urge to stroke the stray piece of hair that had fallen into his face.

moving onto your side, you let out a sigh. cheol’s knuckles were scabbed from tracking down your ex-boyfriend. as soon as he saw the word on your locker, he knew it was your ex’s doing and it wasn’t long before he tracked him down, only to make sure he never attempted something like that again. while you knew he did it to defend you, you felt guilty that he got hurt in the process.

“of course, we will always be friends, y/n! i got you. I always got you. why wouldn’t I?”

one thought rang in your head.

because i love you.

but you kept your mouth shut. you weren’t going to ruin the best thing in your life just because of some dumb feelings that caused you to break up with your ex in the first place.

nothing could disrupt the relationship you had with seungcheol.

or so you thought.

junior year rolled around and everything began to change.

cheol had just entered his freshman year of university to study music and producing. you were so proud and excited for him, but also afraid. afraid of what might change between the two of you. his university was over an hour away from you and the distance was going to have an impact.

you knew that he was going to be busy. cheol was going to go to college. make new friends, discover new opportunities, leave you behind.

he promised that he would never do that and always make time for you. “i’ll come home on the weekends to see you, y/n.” but six months into the year, the texts became less frequent. calls became nonexistent. you often went months without seeing each other and when you did, it was brief and awkward.

eventually, the contact stopped all together.

he still liked your social media posts and you still liked his, but that was it. neither one of you reached out. you didn’t congratulate him when one of his songs won an award at a university showcase. in return, cheol never even said anything when you revealed your senior year that you had been accepted to the same university to study pre-med. it was like your friendship never truly existed.

you pretended like you weren’t hurt. maybe it was meant to be like this. you never truly believed in signs, but maybe this was the universe trying to tell you something. maybe it was better off that you didn’t have to pin over choi seungcheol anymore.

and you were finally getting to where you felt okay. where you could breathe and walk around campus without the anxiety of running into him.

until you got persuaded to go to the first frat party of sophomore year.

your plan was just to go for a little bit and have fun. loosen up, make sure your friends were safe and not doing anything stupid.

you definitely didn’t expect to run into the one person you didn’t want to see.

and you definitely didn’t expect what happened next.

maybe it was the alcohol in both of your systems. or the fact that you both were older, away from your parents. maybe it was stress. you weren’t sure, but at this point, you didn’t care.

cheol’s lips were attached to your neck, goosebumps risen on your skin and his teeth nipping gently at the soft flesh. you let out a breathy moan, as his fingers slowly stretched you in and out.

his hands gripped your hips tightly, his body pressing you even closer against his chest. “does that feel good? do my fingers feel good inside of you?”

you couldn’t do anything but release a whine. of course his fingers felt fucking amazing. they filled you up so well, so much better than your own. but he was such a tease. although you hadn’t talked to him in years, you could remember the conversations you had as teenagers about the sexual experiences you had. you remembered he enjoyed teasing. he enjoyed begging, but you did everything you could push that to the back of your mind.

until now.

cheol chuckled as your wetness coated his fingers, sliding a third one to mix. “god, you’re dripping and it’s so all for me.”

you let out another whine. “go faster.”

“are you sure you’re ready for that, sweetheart?”

instead of responding, you let out a frustrated noise, your hands going down to grab his wrist, trying to make him speed up yourself. you attempted to buck your hips against his hand to gain more friction, but he was holding onto your waist so tight, it was nearly impossible.

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re needy,” he whispered, his teeth tugging on your ear lobe, earning a moan from you.

his three fingers curled up inside you and you let out a yelp. cheol couldn’t help but smile. “there’s the sweet spot.”

you could see stars as his pace increased and decreased, wanting to tease you and prolong your climax as much as possible. you knew this was giving him a power trip. you could feel the authority radiating off of him and you didn’t want to disobey, but you couldn’t take it any longer.

“cheol-“ you whined. “please.”

you felt his breath hit your neck as he smiled. “please what?”

“i wanna cum.”

“oh, does baby want to cum all over my fingers?”

you nodded quickly, not even caring about how eager you sounded. “oh yes, cheol, please wanna cum over your fingers so bad.”

before you had the chance to even comprehend what was happening, cheol curled his fingers once and again, pulling them in and out at a fast pace. his other hand moved down to land a slap on your clit, which he purposely been neglecting, and you let out a moan. you didn’t even care that you guys were in a frat house full of people. let them hear.

the dark-haired boy pulled and traced figure eights across the area you needed him most and you quickly felt the pressure building up in your abdomen and it wasn’t long before you came undone.

you were exhausted as cheol removed his fingers from you, but it was clear the night was far from over as he flipped you onto your back, his eyes dark as he surveyed your naked figure.

“you know, I thought about this a lot when we were in high school.” cheol said softly as he reached down to plant kisses along your stomach. “the way you would look under me. the way you would feel under me. so soft. god, i even imagined how innocent and small you would look. all at the mercy of me and only me.”

a moan left your lips at his words, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin. you couldn’t help but arch your back as you felt the hardness in his jeans brush against your bare core. “i thought about this too.”

at your confession, cheol nipped at your neck, earning a high-pitched moan from your lungs. you could already feel the wetness between your legs once again and you were sure he could too.

cheol pulled back from your body, reaching down to undo his belt and slip his jeans and underwear down his body. they were quickly discarded on the floor where your clothes and his shirt had landed forever ago.

your eyes widened as you took in his size. you knew he was big, but you didn’t think he was that big. the tip of his cock was leaking pre cum and it was so red and angry that you knew it had to be painful for him.

cheol give you a smile. “like what you see?”

you nodded, quickly, feeling lightheaded. “yeah, cheol, you’re so big.” your voice came out small and weak, like a mouse, and that gave him such an ego boost.

he pulled you closer, his lips returning to your neck. it wasn’t long before he pushed his cock into you, your back arching from the relief you felt the moment he did so. a deep groan fell from his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut as he began to thrust his hips into your own, the feeling of him allowing pleasure to bloom across your entire body.

"fuck," he moaned, "you feel so good."

instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to pick up his pace, sweat beginning to glisten across his forehead. he buried his face into your neck, leaving kisses along your jaw while containing the grunts that came from him.

it felt as if flames were licking up and down your body, your hands gripping the back of his shoulders and your own moans soft and delicate with each and every movement. you could feel an intensity building up into the pit of your belly,

"i-i'm close," you whimpered, throwing your head back.

"then let go for me, my baby. I got you. i always got you,” cheol cooed, allowing his thumb to swirl around your clit, which sent you completely over the edge for the second time that night.

there were those words again.

you didn’t have to be told twice as your walls clenched around him. the pressure in your abdomen finally being released.

you let out whines and mewls as cheol chased his own high, the aftershocks of your organism still running through your body.

cheol followed soon after, a deep groan leaving his lips as his thrusts began to slow before he pulled out, painting your stomach white.

suddenly the room that was filled with both of your moans was silent except for pants that we were leaving both of your bodies. the older boy quickly reached across his nightstand to grab tissues before softly cleaning you up.

“I remember you not liking sticky stuff,” he said, quietly. “you used to cry when we were kids if your hands were sticky from food or something. you didn’t like the feeling.”

the fact that he remembered that detail after all these years and the fact that he was talking like you guys never lost contact made your heart hurt. why is he pretending like nothing happened?

but you didn’t want to think about that right now. all you wanted to do was curl up next to your best friend and sleep. you would deal with everything in the morning.

cheol had the same idea as he pulled you against his chest, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. your slowly moved your feet to entangle them with his. “go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

and you drifted off to sleep with his fingers in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. your heart hoping that tomorrow, after years, you would finally have your best friend back.

once again, you were wrong.

when your eyes finally opened the next morning, choi seungcheol was gone and all you had left was your lonely heart

support me! paypal

[lymtw]

Toji meeting someone who's as freaky and sadistic as him at a bar.

You'd been playing eye tag with him for the better part of an hour now. You weren't going to abandon your friends too early, but he had been in your plans for the night by the third time you caught him staring at you.

Time seemed to be moving faster as you withstood his dark gaze. You turned to your friends and conversed, but all you could think about were those green eyes repeatedly peering into your soul in a span of milliseconds.

Toji took the chance to introduce himself and butter you up when your friends went to find the bathroom. He liked the lidded look you held in your eyes as you listened to him go on and on about how sweet looking you are, and how he couldn't wait any longer to see you up close. He did the stereotypical, 'don't see a ring on your finger. What's up with that?' stunt, luring no more than a giggle from you, but by the time he caught on to you saying 'mhm' to every compliment he offered, he figured you were guarded through to hell. This isn't the first time you've had someone try to sweet talk you with no further end goal than using your body. This was just another instance.

You humored him anyway, playing along with his saccharine tongue. You leaning into the act made it go by a lot quicker. So quick that It led you to a cab before your friends returned from the bathroom. You wrapped your arm around his bicep, and in return he put his hand on your thigh. That pinky of his sure was making you nervous with its placement.

You entered his apartment through a makeout session, crashing into anything and everything because he wouldn't release your lips. The door was kicked shut, and you both stumbled into his room. He tossed you onto his bed, watching you unbutton your dress shirt as he pulled his clothes off.

You'd been handled roughly in bed before, but no one could prepare you for the way Toji handled you. It felt like he was handling a stuffed animal rather than a person with the way he moved you in whichever way he wanted you. To his surprise, you were smiling through it all.

"You're a little crazy, aren't you?" He asks, pulling you back by your hair.

"It's nothing to worry about," you respond, giggling when he releases the grip he has on your hair, your face falling into the pillow again. He bruised the crap out of your shoulder blades with his lips, but you didn't mind it at all.

The real fun came when he flipped you onto your back. So many things jumped at him as he fucked you with the same ruthless pace he started with. Your oral fixation had you begging him to put his fingers in your mouth. You covered his thick digits in a shiny coat of saliva, still sucking them back in even when they were dripping. He would tease you by pushing them further than you could take, and chuckle when you choked and gagged.

What further amazed Toji is that even when he wrapped his hands around your neck, you stayed calm and collected. His thumbs pressed further into the column of your neck and your pussy reacted for you, clenching around his cock.

"Please, please, Toji... Harder, pretty please..." you moaned, digging your nails into his wrists. "I can take it, daddy..."

You allowing Toji to play with your life, rob you of your breath, and still beg him to keep going, was such a turn on for him. You really were as crazy as him.

You both lasted maybe three more minutes. Your orgasm made your stomach tense so hard that it was sore a couple hours later. Toji was trying not to cum inside you so he pulled out and busted into his hand and his abdomen, some even landing on your thighs.

He said you could stay until morning if you wanted, and you took up the offer considering how late it was. He let you use his sheets to cover yourself and left enough space between you and him to make you feel comfortable.

You were up early, Toji still knocked out on his side of the bed. You stretched your muscles, which were tense from the night before. The soreness in your abdomen made you hiss when you stretched your back. You sat up and grabbed your clothes that were scattered on the floor. As you buttoned up your shirt, you paused to feel the marks scattered on your chest and on your neck, missing the ones that were on your hips. This random man was an animal.

You finished getting dressed and stood from the bed.

"Leaving so soon?" A raspy voice interrupts your thoughts as you triple check to make sure you don't leave anything behind.

"Um... yeah. I have work later today and I want to freshen up and rest a little longer at home."

"You're a good girl by day, freak at night, huh?"

You laugh. "I guess so."

Toji eyes you up, a sly grin on his face when he sees his marks peeking out from your collar.

"Well, it was nice... meeting you. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime," you say, taking one last look around before turning the doorknob to his bedroom door.

"Sure, sweetheart."

Toji never found someone with the same qualities as you. Someone so filthy, and godless. Yes, he still fucked other women, but they didn't have his attention like you did. He had such a hard time letting you go that he went to the bar every couple nights, hoping to find you again, but you never showed. It was frustrating for him, which was strange because he wasn't one to let his emotions rush him when it came to sexual conquests.

His heart damn near leapt out of his chest when he saw you again. You were looking straight at him, your glass pressed to your lips. You gave him a smile before returning to the conversation going on with your friends. Right then, he knew he couldn't fuck it up this time. You couldn't walk away from his life for so long like you did the first time. That would break him. So he made it his mission to tear down your walls to make room for him. You gave him the fuck of his life, how stupid would it be to lose the possibility of repeating?

[lonepantheress]

♡ txt binge-watching shows w/ their s/o

pairing: ot5!txt x reader

genre: LOL CRACK? fluff i guess

warnings: unserious-ness

a/n: my first try at headcanons......

Yeonjun

like Gossip Girl or PLL or something.

he seems like the kind of person to be really pissed at moments with shitty writing and you’d have to remind him that he eats it up every time.

omg, and he’d start arguments with you about hypotheticals HE MADE based on the show.

like, “y/n, what if me and you met again after 15 years and had kids but we were both single and eligible and hot. what would you do?” “yeonjun, i have no idea. it depends.” “oh, okay. you hate me then?”

he’d be so flip-floppy too. just agreeing with you to agree with you.

“omg.. she’s such a bitch. I hate her.” “I actually really like her character.” “no, yeah, me too. she’s so cool, i love her.”

then when you guys are having real-life drama, he’d get all frustrated about whatever's going on and be like, “this is just like when serena and blair had to fight with georgina.” and you’re like “yes, exactly!”

he’s sweet though, he’d side with whoever YOU’RE siding with just so you guys could have a bonding moment LOL. your faves are his faves (as far as you know..)

Soobin

ok so it is established that he is a weeb

I feel like he would turn on those animes that are like 700 eps and mostly filler and be like, “this is one of my faves!”

and then you can’t complain because he just said it’s one of his faves…

he would try to meet in the middle though and find some that you might also be into

keyword: try

he’d pull out the most obscure show on the most sketchy website with the most incorrect subtitles and be like, “no, y/n, i swear it’s super good.”

and then you give it a chance, and you ask him to explain it.

and he explains it pretty well, but when you ask again he’s getting all emotional about SOMETHING that’s going on and you’re like “???? why…”

you guys will find your fave though and it’s so sweet bc it’s something you guys really look forward to.

you won’t look at spoilers or watch ahead or anything like that. HE TAKES IT LIKE SUPER SERIOUSLY.

and then you guys will get all emotion together and it’s super cute. 

Beomgyu

RuPaul's Drag Race

or like Love Island or the Bachelor or something.

would get super invested in the drama and take sides and everything.

I feel like if you liked someone he didn’t, he would take it personally and be like “BUT WHY???”

he’d fancy himself a prediction god and try to make bets on who will win and who will end up with who.

his real talent is consistently being wrong.

like “WATCH - this time i’m right!”

and then they’re out by, like, the third episode.

or when someone has a really funny or flirty conversation, he’d point to the screen and be like, “Us,” “Omg, that’s so us…” “Why is this lowkey us?”

he’d be DEVASTATED when his faves do not succeed. 

it was clear they’d lose their challenge or whatever but he’s like “WTF????”

but would laugh in your FACE if your faves got eliminated

Taehyun

a show that really takes dedication to watch.

like Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad, or something

he would lowkey be pissed off if you watched an episode or two without him, or read spoilers online. 

but then he would accidentally spoil stuff for you and watch episodes without you so…

I could sort of see this going two different ways

he’s like super invested in it and is dead silent throughout the episode, barely looking away from the screen

or he’s watching and he’s like, “oh, she’s for sure gonna die.” and you’re like, “what? no!” and then she dies five mins later.

then he treats the end of the episode like a podcast and talks to you for like an hour about why the characters did what they did, and what you guys think is gonna happen next. 

kind of sweet cuz he would act uninterested at first and then become the most invested.

Kai

those cooking shows, but the ones where they’re really nice to each other.

like the Great British Baking Show, that show is so low pressure….

the contestants would be casually describing some incredibly complex dessert they’re making and he would go, “babe, we could definitely do that.”

no, you definitely could not!

you guys would confidently suck at making predictions, but you suck together! how cute!

“omg those are the cutest cakes ever! She has to come on top this episode!” “no, for sure. she’s been so consistently good!”

and then judging time comes and the cakes are bland, falling apart, undercooked, and burned at the same time. 

and you two are like, “oh…”

he would also suddenly turn into a baking expert, like when someone is doing their thing he would yell at the screen.

“oh my god. too much salt! NOOOO, TOO MUCH SALT!” and you need to tell him to calm tf down.

[mykoreanlove]

mislead in a cap

You stood on the balcony overlooking the neon city lights while Hoseok was standing behind you, silently smoking his third cigarette. Neither of you said a word but it was evident that a lot was lingering on his mind. You felt the cold summer breeze on your naked skin, shivering lightly. 

Hoseok flipped the cigarette aside and hugged you from behind, sharing his body warmth with you.

„Why do you still keep seeing me, y/n?“, he muttered softly.

There it was. The question that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a very long time. He was right to ask as there was no plausible reason for you to keep doing that. Doing him.

„I guess I kind of like it“, you mumbled truthfully. 

The grip around your waist got harder as he was leaning into you more.

„But you do remember our conversation from the first time?“

You sighed heavily, still remembering every word from that night. You had moved to Seoul for a fresh start, a fresh beginning in life, love and moreover in yourself. It didn’t take long for you to meet Hoseok as you had a mutual friend but you never had predicted the outcome of your serendipitous meeting. Shy glances turned into passionate gazes accompanied by coy kisses that turned into lustful sex. He wasn’t your typical type but you felt a pull towards him like never before. 

Your first real date, or rather spontaneous hook up, ended in your apartment drinking and getting to really know each other. He never intended to spill all of his secrets but the booze loosened his tongue just as much as your safe energy ripped up his shields. 

„I got cheated on three times, actually.“, he confessed out of the blue. „The last time was the hardest. We were together for almost a year and I planned on marrying her but you know, she had other plans.“ 

Hoseok’s eyes, usually shimmering with positive energy, suddenly turned dull. 

„Do you want to know how I figured it out? She moaned another guy’s name in bed. That’s how I figured it out.“, he explained flatly.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. All you could feel was empathy and sorrow - how could someone do that? 

„It’s okay, y/n. It is what it is.“

„It’s not okay. It really isn’t“, you protested.

„That’s just how my life is. It’s shit.“

His eyes got even gloomier, making you shudder with heartbreak.

„No really, just ask around. The others already know. My life is a piece of shit.“ 

Hoseok pained but fascinated you at the same time. 

„I wondered why that happened, you know. I wondered if I was too outgoing, if I should have been stricter with her. As soon as I left town she cheated on me. So, that’s what I figured. Relationships just don’t work if someone is away for a while and since I’m traveling often, relationships are just not for me.“ 

There it was, the ugly monster that was roaring its head. Hoseok sounded just like you when you got your heart broken by the last guy who dumped you as soon as you got out of town. You were too taken aback by this coincidence to really understand what he was implying though.

Instead, you felt an even stronger pull towards him, one that would bring you to your knees often. Slow, sad kisses turned to more and before you knew it he was inside of you, fucking the sadness away. Loving him like that was risky, for your body and heart but you didn’t care. Hoseok triggered another side within you, one that was reckless and risky.

„Why do you like me?“, he asked while placing soft kisses on your temples.

„This is going to sound so cheesy but uhm….I like you because you feel like sunshine.“, you confessed. 

A small giggle escaped his lips before the mood changed for the inevitable.

„You need to find someone else, y/n. Someone who’s decent.“

You held in your breath, not knowing how to respond.

„You remember what I told you? I’ll be leaving town soon for two weeks, so because of that nothing more, nothing serious could ever happen between us.“

Remembering it brought up the pain you felt back then, still after weeks of seeing him. 

He told you to stay away, yet both of you couldn’t resist the other. Endless nights spent under the sheets turned into your little secret.

„I do remember.“

„Then why do you do it? Why are you wasting your time with me?“

You turned around and faced him, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

„I can’t leave you alone because I see myself in you, Hoseok.“

He frowned in response, not really getting your point.

„How so?“

„We’re both very similar if you think about it. Both of us have been hurt in love which is why we tend to be attracted to people that are unavailable, we’re not even risking getting our heart broken. At least not that much, so it would really hurt. But there’s more than meets the eye.“, you explained softly.

„More?“, he asked curiously.

„Yeah.“, you nodded. „Remember what I said when you asked me why I liked you?“

„Cause I feel like sunshine..“, he muttered under his breath.

„Exactly. You have this radiating aura, full of good vibes and positivity. But that’s all just an act. If you look closely enough, you’ll notice that you’re broken and sad. Hurt and disappointed. All that sunshine persona is just a facade. Just something to cover up how you really feel on the inside.“

Hoseok’s eyes started to glisten instantly, he let go of you and turned around.

He felt caught, suffocated even. All these years he was cautious enough to not let someone see beyond the surface, yet you caught on instantly. 

„I am right, aren’t I?“, you asked cautiously. 

He looked over his shoulder, staring directly at you while tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

„Let’s end this, y/n. Once and for all.“ 

[winchester-reload]

I have a few thoughts about the Winchesters finale, and though I wasn’t gonna weigh in on this, it turns out I needed to write this down to get it out of my head, so here we go.

I understand that Misha was approached to be included on the show and that there was a “scheduling conflict” that included multiple conversations with Jensen. Here’s my interpretation of that: 

I believe Cas was supposed to make a cameo in episode 13 to tee up the confession resolution—this was always the episode where they were going to crack open the “surprise twist” even before learning they would only get 13 episodes total. In the original scenario, episode 13 would have been the hellatus episode rather than a finale, leaving room for everything to come to a head with episode 22 instead. It’s then they would have given us the actual Dean and Cas reunion. This would have wrapped both stories nicely with each group going off into their own respective sunsets—their own happy endings, while still leaving all the room for the new crew to explore more seasons; all along, we see, The Winchesters was about Dean and Cas as much as it was about Mary and John.

When they didn’t get the back half of the season picked up, I assume they feared it would be more dangerous to show a Cas cameo without getting to address the confession, so Misha likely opted to be left out instead. With the only hint to Cas being Dean’s line that he was looking for his family when he found the Akrida, then directly drawing the parallel that Jack and Bobby were “family.” The core crew for Dean has always been Bobby, Sam, Jack, AND Cas. And he wasn’t looking for Sam because he was still on earth. So who’s left? You might be compelled to believe he was window shopping AU versions of his parents, but he confirms he ran into the Akrida in this world and then sought to interfere with the order by approaching John in an effort to prevent it from spreading to Sam's world. (Why Cas would be AU hopping, idk. The boy is really afraid of being shot down, I guess.)

It goes far to explain the vast narrative parallels we saw reflected in the Monster Club crew if it was intended as a setup for the confession payoff. It honestly doesn’t make a lot of sense otherwise. There’s no reason these people should be living Dean's experiences and regrets every episode unless the writers wanted the viewer to be thinking about the lessons and resolutions in how they relate to Dean too.

Additionally, as this has been a largely uncontested take, this is Jensen's well-funded fanfic come to life. Complete with the embracing of many of our favorite fanfic tropes and emphasized by Dean’s own words throughout the season. Because this is an obvious embrace of that “write your own story” fan side, I believe the reason Dean couldn’t even say Cas’ name in the episode is because they were going to change the spelling from “Cass” as it was in the show proper to the fan-adopted (and more accurate) spelling of “Cas,” which would have appeared in the subtitles and later the script pages.  And even that little thing right there would have been a huge giveaway to the whole game. And a very dangerous thing to do if there wasn’t going to be enough time for follow-through. 

But the truth is, this isn’t a game for many people, and the harm that can be caused by good intentions is just as real. It also begs the question: why should this be so difficult? The answer is it’s not. Edging forever isn’t fun. It’s torture. I understand there’s an art to storytelling, but your audience is weary, and trust has been violated too many times. Even still, the flip side of that coin is honest to god respect for DeanCas endgame means taking the story and the reveal seriously. It’s a tightrope walk. And one that Robbie somehow managed to keep balanced after the finale, without it falling either way.  Also we also need to consider the possibility that Jensen did pitch a full-on destiel love story spin-off but got shot down, opting to couch it in a more CW-branded world instead. He’s mentioned over half a dozen pitches were rejected. It's up to you whether you want to give him the benefit of the doubt on that.

But, I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know that we will ever get that resolution we crave. Even Robbie confirmed The Winchesters were always meant to “go it alone” after the first season. It’s hard to imagine Dean popping in there to fuck around again after that handoff. But the dude is clearly a very restless sea-faring*, swoopy-haired mofo right now, so I’ll leave that one up to the SPN multiverse and the new Mr. Superwholock’s magical universe-traveling impala. (This show used to be about what again? *looks at notes*.) And FWIW, if they do get green-lit for a whole second season or are allowed to move networks, I believe a good-faith effort will be made to tie the narrative parallels we saw in season one to some real Dean and Cas resolution. If there gets to be a world where John *might* not turn into an abusive dick, then this possibility has to be true too.

For the record, I enjoyed The Winchesters, all the new characters, and the doors the finale opened for the possibility of more. I would have been fine half-watching it with no promises, empty head no thoughts, but I got my clown** suit on again, and though I mostly kept quiet, unlike last time, I did regrettably manage to drag a few friends down with me yet again.  Though the spec sessions were epic, and we did get some art out of it—it still rocks the boat when the base level expectations were only 1. Dean alive, and 2. seeing Cas again. 

But for anyone, like me, upset by the (likely unintentional) Cas-baiting or anyone still reeling about why this stuff can hit so hard, here’s an interesting article about the way our brains respond to fictional characters. Tl;dr: There’s nothing wrong with you. This is science. And while you’re at it, take a look at this article about the very real power of disenfranchised grief over character loss.

Ramble on, fam. And take care of yourselves.

<3 Jackie

*Um hi he appears as a sailor? Literally, on a show with a story Dean is writing whose audience is looking for a resolution to a conversation between two people who’re famously the “most shipped” characters of all time? That’s not an accident. That’s intentional. And it’s another reason why there might be a bitter taste in your mouth. These nods came without resolution, so it still feels dirty, despite the brilliant Easter egg.

**I hesitate to say “clown” here because the lesson on episode 12 was that the clowns were the ones who chose a self-induced limbo rather than face some personal hard revelations. That sounds more like a certain closeted character than it does the people cheering him on, and that felt like an intentional nod too.

***obviously, this is my own rambling spec as I try to reorder my thoughts in the wake of the finale.

[thenighthekate]

could you do an angst to fluff with tom based off the way i loved you by taylor swift? if your comfortable with it or have time!! <3.

The way I loved you ( t.k. )

And my heart does not beat. It is still inside my chest. My tears keep on falling and my head will not rest.

There were many ways to love someone. Stolen kisses, morning hugs, late night dinner. The bond between two people only growing stronger with every conversation they had, but ours only seemed to crumble. With every forceful peck, strained embrace, silent meal, the bond in between us quietly disappeared.

He wasn't bad, wasn't the best, but neither was I. We had our problems and once we got out of our honeymoon phase they only seemed to worsen. With every day our arguments grew stronger, louder, the fire in our eyes glowing brighter as our voices raised. It was our new life, we loved each other, just not the same way we used to.

In all honesty I was getting so used to our new reality that when it all flipped I could only cry.

I missed our contact, even when all of it resulted in screaming and crying. Driving down the highway with music blasting just to avoid each other, toxic, but we atleast saw one another. Now it was like we didn't exist, just two separate people living together in what felt like far too small of a house.

The moon was shining that night, rays of silver breaking through the heavy rain that hit the cars windows. It was silent, no obnoxiously loud music that could cover our thoughts, only our breathing filling the empty spaces.

I was staring straight ahead and with a few stolen glances I figured that Tom was too, his brows scrunched, hands tightly gripping the wheel as he looked down the road. He was deep in thought, whatever clouding his mind making him softly shake his head. I didn't pay any attention to it until the car slowed down, drifting to the side of the street and rolling to a stop.

Silence indulged us two as I looked around for any clues, anything that would tell me if something was wrong. " Did something happen to the car-"

" We need to talk." His hands let go of the wheel slightly, his gaze still fixated in front of him. I knew what those words meant, I knew that he wanted to go deep on anything that was bothering us, anything that made us be where we are. " We can't keep going like this. I'm tired of living in this hole, I mean we don't talk, we live two separate lives. We sleep in the same fucking bed, but yet we're different." His rant was pretty short, half of which he looked me in the eye. I could see the sadness behind them, the clear desperation to make things work, fix whatever was broken.

" I don't know what happened to us." There was no cheating, no huge arguments, the lust between us jost slowly seemed to burn out. My fingers played with each other, anxiety filling my brain as it poured out into my words. " I love you, but we can't fix anything if we don't even know what started it."

We stared at one another silently, our eyes in a way almost communicating. " It's either this or we break up."

I knew it, he knew it, but yet something was tugging on both of our hearts, not letting us go with the latter.

In a moment of what felt like a spell was put over us we leaned in, our lips connecting and fighting against each other. This was the first real kiss in a while, no small peck or a smooch presented in front of family to make them know of our so called love. Minutes were shared as our hands traveled bodies, skin blushing and heat rising, I missed this. I missed moments like these, our love for one another just spilling past our edges making us swim in the softly sweet feeling. I missed our dancing in the rain, laughter coming straight from our throats as we got drenched from the water above. I missed us.

We separated with deep breaths trying to catch air back into our lungs, his hands holding mine as we stared into each other's eyes. His palm while clenched around mine raised up, his soft lips planting a sweet kiss on top of my knuckles. " I love you. I promise that whatever was fucked up will be fixed." And for the first time in months I could actually see a light for our future.

[centrally-unplanned]

"Suicide in protest" is not self-evidently the result of being "mentally deranged" if you believe your suicide may inspire others to protest or to support your cause.You may be wrong about that belief, but being incorrect is not the same as being deranged. This is what I wanted to distinguish in my exchange with Summer. It's true that any single act of protest is unlikely to yield major results, but that's true of any kind of protest. It doesn't follow that protest is always an irrational act.

I will respond to all your asks on this one, as I think its form of goose chase logic. You can try to construct some intricate chain about how this or that might be some logical act, and in the platonic ideal universe that is true. I was quite consistent (its tumblr, I wasn't publishing a paper so maybe not everywhere) on how its almost certain, its not some 100% thing, its not logically impossible.

But I am allowed to be a human being using my eyes observing reality. And that logic chain is irrelevant, it doesn't matter if "superhero movies valorize last stands" or w/e, because mentally well people *don't* watch those and then suicide themselves for arbitrary political causes. We in fact have a long track record of people who do these kinds of things. You mention in the other ask Christian martyr types, and we have those in the modern era, you don't need to go back to old bible stories. You know them as people like abortion clinic bombers! And they are mentally unwell pretty much every time, because in real life that is the precondition for someone doing this kind of thing if they are from this kind of social context. Fortunately Aaron was more moral/not quite as unwell as those who drag others down with them, but its the same state of mind, the same social phenomenon.

Personally I think that is this was someone burning themselves alive protesting the injustice of Trump having the election stolen from him in 2020 no one would be debating the mental state of that person here, but with the political poles flipped suddenly its heroism; but I wont put that on you, that would be unfair, you haven't said that. But for the wider discourse its almost certainly true.

Again there are exceptions out there, rare but it happens. But this isn't some abstract conversation. He was almost certainly mentally unwell, the evidence we have *already* suggests that, and while we might never get more evidence because that isn't how reality works if we do all the smart money suggest it will show more. Because sociology is real, humans aren't snowflakes.

I do admit that there is a strain in US/western culture that baits the mentally unhealthy into extremist behavior that, for the most vulnerable, can spiral from performative politicking to things like actual violence or self-harm. I am happy to admit that the line between "mental health" and "sociological phenomenon" is blurry here. But in this debate neither side of that coin is paying the bills of the "hero" stance, so I don't think its that relevant; I don't object if someone thinks its more the other side of that coin.

(If it helps by the way, I don't believe the rare odds are like 0.1% or anything, humans are very diverse. My strident tone is matching the confidence (with no evidence) that so many were trumpeting that this is an act of brave heroism that should be celebrate. I don't apologize for my tone, I think those statements are quite awful and should be met with strident condemnation if one is so inclined. But my stridency is not a function of the odds assessment or w/e)

[7-wonders]

Apocalypse Now

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XII)

Summary: The end is here, despite your best efforts.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I'm sorry, this is straight angst. Oops?

Mad Love Masterlist

Tuesdays are objectively the worst day of the week. Though Monday is rough, being the first day after the weekend, it can still be spun as a positive—a brand new week, just full of possibilities. Wednesdays, at least, have the “hump day” moniker to give one some hope that the week is half over. Thursdays are alright because that means it’s almost Friday, and Fridays are what it must be like to take every party drug at once.

Tuesdays, though? Tuesdays suck. It’s far enough into the week to feel none of the residual weekend happiness, but the upcoming weekend is still very much out of grasp. Tuesday is hopelessness personified, if one is feeling particularly dramatic.

That’s why it’s fitting that the world ends on a Tuesday.

You’re in class, because where else would you be? Luckily, this is your capstone class, which is just a class for seniors who are, predictably, working on their capstones to be able to bounce ideas off of and support each other. Since you and Kate are both seniors (and because you literally signed up for this class at the same time) you have the class together, thankfully—you keep each other sane by being insane together, and nowhere is that more apparent than when the two of you work on your respective theses.

“You think I can get away with calling Kant a cunt if I do it, like, academically?” Kate whispers into your ear from where she’s sitting next to you. She keeps her eyes on her laptop screen the entire time, making you choke back a laugh at her easy nonchalance.

“Not by using those exact words, but yeah, as long as you cite your sources.” You run the same drill as Kate, refusing to look away and draw suspicion as you both snicker quietly to yourselves. “Do you wanna grab coffee and pretend to keep working after class?”

“God, yes. Then I can tell you about what went down at last night’s Greek Life exec meeting.” She glances at you from the corner of her eye. “It came out that three of the Chi O sisters are dating each other.”

(With hindsight on your side, you’ll look back on this day and think with bitter regret about how utterly, perfectly normal the day the world ended was. The gossiping conversations, the plans being made, the going about your day with all the confidence that you’ll see tomorrow.

You miss that innocence.)

You gasp under your breath at this exciting tidbit. “No way! How did they–”

You’re cut off by the alarm on someone’s phone blaring. No, multiple phones are blaring out an emergency alarm, and those that aren’t are vibrating, yours included. People dig their phones out of pockets and backpacks, and you pick yours up from where it sits on the table next to your computer and flip it around so that you can see the screen.

You wish you didn’t.

“BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL,” the alert on your phone reads.

You look up at Kate as your classmates begin to mutter around you in a mix of nervous laughter and disbelief, only to see the same shock and confusion on her face that must surely be reflected in yours.

“Do you think this is real?” you ask, your heart beginning to hammer in your throat at the implications of such a message.

“It can’t be. It’s–it’s like that time in Hawaii, remember? We’ll get an alert in a few minutes saying that it was all a mistake,” she assures you, always so calm and rational about everything.

You nod and take a couple of deep breaths to calm down. Kate is right, you tell yourself. Somebody accidentally hit a button at a command center when they were trying to conduct a test, and now everybody’s freaking out as a result. They’ve probably already caught the mistake and are preparing to do damage control. The employee will lose their job, unfortunately, but that’s to be expected when accidentally causing mass panic. All in all, this will make a fun story in a couple of years: the time you thought you were about to be caught up in nuclear warfare.

Screaming draws your attention to the large windows to the right of you, and you and others cross the room to see what the commotion is. Outside, people of all ages are running in various directions across campus for—well, for their lives. The way everyone hurries reminds you of watching an ant farm. Someone trips and goes sprawling to their hands and knees, only to have to roll to the grass to prevent almost being trampled. Their belongings, having fallen from their grasp, are kicked and scattered without any care.

The panic from outside leaches through the wall and begins to spread through the classroom like a fast-moving disease. Warning sirens, which you didn’t know were still in operation after the Cold War, begin to wail. Some classmates start trying to reach friends or loved ones on their phones, while others just make a break for the door. At the front of the room, your professor sits, paralyzed, with tears running down his face while he scrolls his social media and tries to find anything to confirm that this is all just a terrible misstep. 

Your stomach drops like you’re lurching down from the top of a very tall roller coaster, and you look back at Kate. “We gotta go.”

“Where?” she asks. You just shake your head, throwing everything into your backpack and zipping it up before grabbing Kate’s hand. You don’t know where it is you need to go, only that you can’t stay here. Taking one last look back at the classroom to make sure you have everything, you and Kate join the flow of people heading down the stairs to try and escape.

Hand in hand so as not to get separated in the crowd, you both run through the campus green. It’s a perfect late-autumn day, really. The sun is high in the blue, cloudless sky and the temperature is warm, but with a bit of a chill from the wind. It’s the type of weather that makes you want to spend all day outside so as not to waste it. The juxtaposition, between the pleasant weather and the chaotic, frightened atmosphere, is not lost on you.

“Wait,” Kate raises her voice to be heard over the panicked din, “we need a plan.”

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything beyond how scared you are. “Uh…we’ll get in my car, okay? I filled up on gas this morning. And–and we’ll drive as fast as we can, to get as far away as we can before the blast happens. I think we can get out of the major blast zone.”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds good.” 

She nods at you, and you nod back, both trying to reassure the other. The parking lot appears as you round a corner, and you tear your backpack around to your front so that you can find your keys.

“Wait!” Kate says again. “What about Brennan? And Michael?”

Hearing Michael’s name sends alarm bells flaring in the back of your mind. There’s something about him and this nightmare that are connected, but the primal parts of your brain, the one telling you that flight is the best option for survival right now, is too active for you to have any sort of introspection in this moment.

“Call them,” you answer without hesitation, “we can pick them up on the way out of town.”

Kate grabs her phone, finding Brennan’s number and hitting ‘call’ before holding the device up to her ear. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she mutters, listening closely. “Fuck! I can’t get through.”

“Keep trying. One has to go through eventually. And if they don’t, we at least know where they both are.”

“Do you really think this is going to work? That we’re going to survive?” Kate asks, dialing Brennan once more.

The truth is that you don’t know. You hope it does, that you can at least give yourself a fighting chance to not immediately die when the missiles hit. But there’s just as big a chance that you can’t make it out, that you will die. That’s terrifying, and it makes your throat tighten from terror. The only thing that keeps you from outright freaking out is that, if you do die, at least you’ll have Kate right there next to you.

“I don’t know. But I can promise you that we’re going to try our hardest to survive,” you say.

You can see your car now, only a couple of rows away. Maybe you will actually make it. Maybe this plan will work, and the four of you will end up riding out the end of the world together. Maybe survival can happen; you’re all pretty resourceful, and if you can at least get past the blasts, you can—

An armored vehicle screeches to a halt in front of you, sending you and Kate rearing back as your path is cut off. Two figures dressed in black suits hop out and begin to walk towards you with a purpose. Behind them, military personnel also exit the vehicle. Immediately, your worst fears are confirmed, and you know what this must be. Trying to avoid the inevitable, you begin taking hurried steps back.

One of the men in black says your name. “You need to come with us,” he commands.

“Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere with you!” You try to run to your left, hoping to catch them off-guard and make a break for it, but the other man in black stands in front of you.

“I’m afraid we can’t accept that,” he says, motioning for the military personnel. 

Two of them approach you, their rifles belted to their fronts and serving as a menacing reminder that you have no power here. They each grab one arm and begin to drag you towards the vehicle, paying no mind to you as you start screaming and trying to fight your way out of their grasps. You hold desperately onto Kate’s hand for as long as you can, but it’s only a matter of time before you lose your hold.

“Wait! Where are you taking her?” you hear Kate yell behind you.

“Kate! Kate!” you shriek, high and piercing and terrified. 

You look over your shoulder to see two other soldiers blocking her from reaching you. You’re both sobbing, but there’s nothing either of you can do about it. You’re unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of the armored vehicle, the door slamming shut before you can even think to move. Up front, the driver throws it into gear and peals away from the parking lot. When you scramble to your knees, you’re forced to watch as Kate’s figure rapidly grows smaller and smaller.

“Please go back! You have to take Kate, too! Please!” you beg.

“Shut up!” One of the men shoves you down into your seat, and when you try to get up, he backhands you across the face.

“Hey, be careful with her!” another warns. “You remember what they said. No harm is to come to the boss’s wife.”

The pain of the slap has you reeling, but it also serves to clear your mind enough that the reality of what was just said begins to sink in. You’re apparently the boss’s wife, which means one thing and one thing only.

He’s done it, then? This is all the doing of one Michael Langdon, who for so long swore to you that the world would not end for years, that you would be well aware of when and if his plans were going to be realized? You don’t want to believe it, but, unfortunately, it’s the reality that you seem to be faced with. In response, your tears dry up, and you sit silently and stoically for the rest of the ride.

It’s not a very long journey to wherever you’re being taken to, maybe fifteen minutes or so before the truck is driven into a garage. You look out the back window again to see the garage door closing behind you, the rectangle of light growing smaller and smaller until it finally disappears. Deep down, you know that this was probably your last time seeing the sunlight. You don’t know whether watching it will make you feel better or worse.

The soldiers drag you out of the car just as they dragged you in, marching you through what looks like an underground parking garage towards an elevator and forcing you to stand between them as the men in black join your little group. One of them reaches out a hand, gloved in black leather, so they can stab at the control panel. Even though they press the topmost button, the elevator begins to move down.

The silence begins to stretch on, and you shift uncomfortably. “Is my—” your voice breaks, and you clear your throat. “Is Michael here?”

Predictably, they ignore you, staring straight ahead at their distorted reflections in the chrome doors.

When the doors do finally ding open, they reveal what looks like the living room of an apartment. The walls are bare, but there are all the normal furnishings that one would expect to find: a couch, a TV, a coffee table. There are no windows, you note, the only light available emitting harshly from the fixtures up above. You’re sat down on the couch, and you glare petulantly at your kidnappers.

“Where are we?” you demand. “I deserve answers.”

“You’ll be safe here,” one of them says instead of answering your question. 

Single-file, they move back into the elevator, presumably to return to the surface. As the doors shut once more, you hold eye contact with the soldier that hit you.

He looks at you in fear, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.

The elevator whirs back to life as it begins its travels up, and the sound serves to jolt you out of your stunned state and remind you that you have free will. You jump up from the couch and run to the elevator, hoping for a way out. There’s no call panel on the wall next to it, meaning that the only way it can be accessed is from the inside. Effectively, you’re trapped.

Panic returns in full-force at this revelation, and you frantically start trying to get your fingers into the seam of the door. Maybe if you pull hard enough, you’ll be able to pry them open? You’re not sure what you’ll do after that, but at least then you’ll have options.

Just as you’re starting to delude yourself that you think you can feel a gap widening under your grip, an explosion rocks the world above you. It’s loud, louder than you thought possible for how far below ground you must be, and you scream as you fall to the floor. The shock of the blast reverberates all the way down to what must be the Earth’s core, causing the room to shake around you. The lights flicker and go out before being replaced by an eerie red glow, and an alarm starts to methodically sound.

A sob rips from you, your heart knowing what’s just happened before your brain can come to the same conclusion. A nuclear weapon, dropped right over your head. Death and destruction wreaking havoc on the world in a matter of seconds. Mere circumstance saving you, while those you love are left to perish.

Against your will, you’re forced to imagine the scenarios. Kate was probably still outside, nowhere near any sort of safety. Brennan must have been so worried, trying just as desperately until his last moments to try and reach Kate. Mallory, you know, would have been more worried for her students, for her girls, than herself. Your parents…fuck. You didn’t even get to tell your parents you love them. The grief is overwhelming, and threatens to swallow you whole.

A hand comes to rest under your chin, lifting your face up from where it’s been hanging in despair. Through tears, you see a figure with blue eyes and golden hair crouched in front of you. Their thumb gently presses on your lip, and you inhale sharply at the pain, the source of which must have been the slap.

“Who did this to you? Was it one of the personnel who brought you here?” he asks, fury in his tone.

“Michael,” you cry out, letting him collect you in his embrace. He’s so comforting, so familiar, that you can forget for a moment that he’s the source of your current agony.

“Oh my love, it’s alright. We’re both safe,” he soothes, rubbing a hand on your back as you sob into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t warn you beforehand, but these plans were extremely confidential.”

That reminds you who it is you’re crying on, and you pull yourself up off of his shoulder. Michael’s looking down at you with all the love in the world in his eyes and frowning just slightly in sympathy for your plight.

Rage, hot and incandescent, floods through your veins.

“You did this, then?” you ask.

He smiles proudly. “As I was born to do.”

“And…everybody’s dead?” Your voice comes out strangled, though you try your hardest to school your emotions.

“Not everybody. Those that managed to earn a spot in an Outpost are all alive and well. There will be a good number of people who were far enough away from blast zones to have survived the initial blast. The fallout will take care of them within a couple years, though.” He shakes his head in pity. “Nasty thing, nuclear fallout. If exposed for even a few minutes, cancer and sores can easily develop. Mutations as well.”

That sounds horrifying. However morbid it may be, for the sake of those you love, you hope that the blasts killed them.

The look on your face must match how you’re feeling, because Michael quickly takes your hands in his. “I know, it sounds terrible. But their deaths were necessary! They fulfill a purpose.”

“And what purpose is that?”

“To cleanse the world and remake it in my father’s image, for you and I to rule as we see fit.”

A wave of nausea takes over you, and you have to close your eyes and breathe deeply to keep from becoming sick. You stand, backing away from Michael as quickly as you can. He tries to follow, but you hold your hands out in front of you to stop him from coming any closer.

“You bastard,” you whisper.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

You look up at him, fire in your eyes. “You. Bastard.”

“You don’t really mean that.” You can’t tell if he’s in disbelief or if he’s challenging you to repeat that.

“Yes, I do. You killed them! You killed all of them, for no good reason—”

“You know the reason!” he yells, grabbing onto your upper arms and pulling you to him. Though you try to fight your way out of his grasp, your resistance is futile. “I am doing this for us,” he hisses. “So that we can have the future we’ve dreamed about, the future that we’ve earned with our hard work.”

“This is not the future I dreamed about.” You shove him away, making him glare at you as though you’re his enemy.

Your Michael, the one that you know and love, is nowhere to be seen. Gone is the Michael that would tell you everything. The Michael that researched grad schools as though he was the one that would be attending, the Michael that took a body shot off of you, the Michael that lit up the first time that he saw fireflies, the Michael that loved Valentine’s Day because it meant that he got to shower you in love and there was nothing you could do about it.

Now, there’s a man wearing your husband’s face, who stands before you unrepentant and assured in his actions. This stranger has been completely and utterly corrupted by his father, and in such a short amount of time. As it turns out, all of your hard work only served to send him quicker into the throes of darkness.

  “I don’t know who you are anymore,” you say, tears welling in your eyes for the umpteenth time today.

“This is who I have always been,” he proclaims proudly. “You just haven’t wanted to see it.”

“You’re a fucking monster.” Amidst all of the uncertainty that you’re currently faced with, through all of the horror you’ve been forced to endure in one day, this is what you can be certain of.

Michael smiles patronizingly, as though you’re a mere child who insists that the bogeyman is real and he’s the adult that knows better. “You’ll come to your senses. Just give it some time.”

He grabs your hand against your will, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it. 

“Soon, our reign begins.”

//

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @wroteclassicaly @we-did-it-joe @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @langdonsjoyy @aftertheglitterfades @ferndolan @iamlivingforturner @moonlike333 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angiestopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray

(I really don't know why I still do a tag list. Habit, I suppose.)

[mastermindmiko]

Potions Partner (Part 11)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + fem!reader

Word count: 4389

Warnings: smut, kinda angsty

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Part 12

requests are open

No one really ever told her that once you’ve had sex once, it’s very easy to keep on doing it over and over and over again. That’s what they’ve been doing all that week and a half. She couldn’t count on both her hands that amount of times they’ve had sex only these past few days. It wasn’t only sex that’s for sure. 

She recalled the way Draco’s hands slid under her skirt when they were in potions’ class, she’d never been happier that they were in the back as she came on his fingers. The way they’d sneak off in between classes so she can suck him off in an unattended closet. The way he’d bend her over some desk in an abandoned classroom as he rutted inside her. They simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. 

That was the exact reason why they were both naked on Draco’s bed, talking to each other, knowing that they had to leave tomorrow for Christmas break. She’s positively fatigued after they had gone for three times, but she still couldn’t tear her body away from Draco’s. 

It was an unspoken agreement not to mention the torment of those two weeks, while they had their arms wrapped around each other. He pressed a small kiss to her nose, and she giggled at the action. He trailed his fingers over her arm, and he kept sliding them up and down till her shoulders. 

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay away from you for two weeks.” Draco says, and an uneasy feeling settles in her chest. She frowns, and buries her head deeper into his chest. She reassures him, even though she does it for the purpose of reassuring herself more, “It’ll only be two weeks, then we’ll be together again-” 

She cuts herself off and she remembers that this will be the shortest time that they’ll be apart, after that there’s summer vacation which will be two months long. At least after then they’ll be reunited once more… she interrupts her train of thought as she remembers the conversation they’d had before. 

- “No one will find out, it’ll just be us.” He says, and she purses her lips at the thought of lying to her friends. “You won’t be hiding it for too long, just this year. When the year ends, we end. It’s just a date.” 

“I can’t not have you.” Draco says, and it makes her stomach flip and her heart race and it’s just enough that it convinces her. She nods her head, and he smiles, a real one. He leans down to kiss her and she kisses him back. -

Her throat dries at the feeling of their relationship dying when the year ends. She pokes the insides of her cheek, as she tries to process the fact of not being with him. Her heart summersaults as she realises that she really really loves him. Draco notices her grim expression and he cups her cheek to ask, “What is it?” 

“I-” she begins and decides to avoid his gaze, “When we started this-” she motioned between the both of them, “You said that we won’t be together anymore when the year ends…” she trails off as she looks him in the eye. She blinks back the tears that she’s sure he’s already seen, “Do you- do you still want that?” 

The most nerve-wrecking seconds of her life, as she waits for his answer, heart sinking every second that he doesn’t answer. She’s about to laugh off the feelings, and talk about how absurd it would be for them to keep dating when he chokes out, “No.” 

“No, I don’t want that, but I don’t think we’ll have a choice.” he says, and she’s about to keep going till he continues, “If we date in our seventh year too, we’re bound to not be able to see each other once we graduate. I think it’ll be easier to just get used to being apart before we graduate.” 

She didn’t know what she wanted to hear, but this certainly wasn’t it. He was being logical, logical enough for the both of them. She didn’t know when Voldemort would be gone again, and they were on opposite sides of the war. No one would allow them to be together. His words, however, made it clear to her that he didn’t love her. He wouldn’t be so quick to accept it if he did. It burned a hole through her chest, but nevertheless she sighs, “You’re right.” 

“Let’s not think about that now? Let’s be happy that we’re together.” Draco said, and she gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling of despair away from her body. She couldn’t feel her eyes brim up with tears again. She turns to give him her back, and she says, “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep now.” 

“Okay, my love.” He says pressing a kiss to her head. It only makes her heart sink even more. Why did he have to call her that when he didn’t feel that way? She wiped away the brimming tears and Draco asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” she says, quickly and shuts her eyes, hoping that it would shut her emotions too. Draco leans in closer to her to pat her head. He whispers, “Are you sure?”

She nods her head, and he doesn’t press it any further. She feels his hand snake over her waist, pulling her to his chest. He lifts the blanket up to her shoulders, making sure that she doesn’t get cold in the middle of the night. “I have something I want to give you tomorrow.” 

She nods her head once more, and he sighs. He pushes her hair away as he presses a few kisses on her shoulder. He whispers goodnight and she falls asleep in his arms, feeling his breath against her neck. 

***

She wakes up with the feeling of her wet cunt weeping and Draco’s groans from over her shoulder. She feels him rutting into her from behind and she can’t help but moan at the feeling. This is the best way to wake up, she concluded. Draco almost always wakes up with a hard-on, so he almost always wakes her up in a way that tells her that. She’s woken up with his fingers inside her, and she’s woken up with his head between her thighs, but having his cock inside her is the best way to wake up. 

“Good morning.” He groans, as he chases his high, speeding up his pace. She can only moan a reply as she feels him continue to pound inside her. She raises a hand to reach for the headboard, as he continues. He groans, “Oh, fuckkk! How am I going to wake up anyway else now?” 

She mumbles a few incoherent words in agreement, and Draco chuckled darkly from behind her. Her moans get louder and he reaches over her body to squeeze her breasts. “Are you getting close, darling?” 

She can only nod quickly as she feels the familiar sensation of the coil tightening in her stomach. He moves his hand from her breasts to her clit and rubs harsh circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. She’s nearly screaming when she cums around him. Soon enough, he cums inside her with a large moan. 

He continues to thrust inside her, riding out his high, while she whimpers from overstimulation. He’s still inside her when he stops moving. He moves her hair away from her neck, and kisses her cheek. She giggles, “Good morning.” 

“The best morning, if you’ll ask me.” he replies as he continues pressing kisses on her neck. She giggles at his answer, and she lets out a weak whimper when he pulls out of her. She feels very empty when he’s no longer inside her. She turns to look at him, and says, “When we get back, the first day we get back, you will spend the entire day fucking me, okay? Clear your schedule, I don’t care if we have classes. You’re going to fuck me the entire day.” 

“It’ll be my pleasure.” he grins as he thinks of that wonderful idea. He plays with the strands of her hair, and she smiles at the action. She’s going to miss him so much. She tries not to remember the negative feelings from yesterday as she thinks of how she’ll embrace the second semester with Draco. She already knows what she’s going to do for Valentine’s day. 

Her eyes move to the clock that’s above his desk, and she sits up. She only has a few hours to pack all her things, get ready, have breakfast, and meet up with her friends at the Hogwarts express. Draco’s arms wrap around her waist defiantly, “No, we still have time, stay.” 

“That’s because you have your stuff packed, I don’t” She says, and she pries his arms away from his body. He groans and he rolls away from her. It was like this every morning. She goes to take a shower and when she gets ready, she thinks, should she also pack her things that are here? 

She grabs one of her bags and places an undetectable extension charm on it, so it’ll fit all her things that are here. They’ve accumulated over the past few months, and they’ve almost doubled in size. From the bed, where he still hasn’t moved, Draco protests, “Hey! What’re you doing? Why are you packing this stuff?” 

“Because well-” she starts and he gets up, she notices he’s put on a pair of boxers. He goes to grab her hands and says, “You won’t be taking anything unless you’ll need it. These things are going to stay here because you’re going to need them next semester.” 

She nods her head and smiles. The action provided her with some much needed comfort. He wraps her in a hug, and he says, “I’m going to go get ready. Don’t leave without a kiss.” 

He goes inside the bathroom and a few seconds later she hears the shower running. She goes through her stuff and only grabs a scarf, a coat and a few sweaters. She places them inside the bag and she puts on an outfit that she likes and is comfortable for the long journey. 

She places all her things in one spot and places the stone onto the desk. She knocks on the bathroom door before entering. Draco’s combing his hair, and she walks up to him to give him a peck on the lips. She turns to leave, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her back to him, “I’m not going to see you for two weeks, give me a better goodbye kiss than that.” 

Her giggles get interrupted by him slamming his lips onto hers. She doesn’t know how long he’s kissed her for, but she only breaks the kiss when she’s in dire need for oxygen. He hums contently, and she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling as well. He murmurs, “Wait here.” 

He heads out of the bathroom, and she stays inside, waiting for him. She hears the door of his dresser open, and then close. He walks inside with his hand clutched around something, forming a fist. He reaches her and he hands her a large folded paper. He has a blush on his cheeks, as he instructs, “Don’t open it, until you’re at the Weasleys.” 

“Why?” she questions, eyeing the paper curiously. He presses a final kiss to her lips, and he says, “Just do as I say.” She rolls her eyes at his antics, suddenly anxious to get to the Burrow, so she can open the mysterious letter. 

“See you in two weeks?” She asks, and he smiles with a nod. She turns around to grab her things, and then she teleports outside of the Slytherin common room. She takes a few steps, and she feels an ache in her chest. In a flash, she drops her things to the ground and uses the stone to go back inside Draco’s room. 

She reaches him and wraps her arms around him tightly. He does the same, and she clings onto him a bit more. She waits for a few seconds till the hole in her heart is filled again, and she parts from him. She says, “I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too.” He replies and she gives him a weak smile before she goes out of the room again. She’s glad to find her things still there, and she heads to the Gryffindor common room where she can be interrogated by Harry and criticised by Hermione for not packing earlier. 

Christmas was in three days, and she was yet to finish her shopping. She also needed to get Draco his Valentine’s day gift, she wondered if he would get her something. The whole day passed in a blurry wave of packing, excitement, and sadness. 

They reached the Burrow at night after Mr Weasley had picked them up from the station. Mr Weasley was anxious the entire time we were at the station, his eyes kept darting around nervously. She assumed it was because of the constant death eater attacks. He rushed them towards the magic car, and they were off. 

The ride was unpleasant to say the least. Harry had won and rode shotgun next to Mr Weasley while she was squeezed in the middle between Ron and Hermione who were not enjoying each other’s company because of the Lavender incident. 

The whole situation with Lavender was another reason why she was happy sharing a room with Draco because she couldn’t imagine the tension between Lavender and Hermione while sharing a room. Poor Parvati, having to deal with that all the time. 

They reached the Burrow and Mrs Weasley was waiting for them outside of the door, and she could tell that the rest of the Weasley family was present because she could hear the ruckus that was coming from the house. Ginny was the first to leave the car, grateful to not be amidst the awkwardness that is Ron and Hermione. 

Harry followed Ginny, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at her brother’s awkward actions. Ron followed and stepped in between Harry and Ginny. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and she looped her arm with Y/N and they walked to the Burrow. 

Mrs Weasley gave everyone a long hug and a wet kiss on the cheek. She hugged Harry the longest, it was no secret that he was her favourite. She was wrapped in several scarves and blankets. She was shivering when she hurried them all inside, “Hurry, Hurry! Or you’ll catch a cold. There’s nothing worse than being sick during Christmas. Go on!” 

The Burrow was immensely warm, and the heat engulfed them. The smell of cookies in the oven also invaded her senses. They placed their coats on the coat rack near the food, but the calmness was quickly stopped when Fred and George tumbled down the stairs. Mrs Weasley looked at her children covered in red dust on the ground and started shouting, “I’ve told you a hundred times before! Do not test your products inside the house. Clean this mess you’ve made, hop to it!” 

They snickered and rushed up the stairs. They came back with their wands and cleaned the mess in a second. Mrs Weasley still didn’t look amused. They heard the sound of a pop, and Mrs Weasley’s sour expression turned into an excited one. She nearly jumped for joy as she went back to the door. 

“Bill! Charlie!” Mrs Weasley walked with her arms open to hug her oldest children. Ginny beat her to it as she rushed to hug Bill. Charlie ruffled Ginny’s hair, and it was a wonderful sight to see the whole Weasley family reunited. They all walked back inside the Burrow and she said hello to everyone. 

They were all sitting around the small round table in the living room that Mrs Weasley kept filling with baked goods. Fred and George sat on either side of her, and they kept telling her about their shop. She grinned when they told her about their success, however her eyes couldn’t help but rail over to the other side of the room where Ginny was feeding Harry cookies. The sight was enough to make her want to vomit. 

“I imagine he feels the same way when he sees you with your boyfriend.” Fred interrupted her thoughts as he looked at her mischievously. Her eyes snapped to him to see his amused expression. She folded her arms and leaned back on the couch, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“So, it’s just a quick shag then?” George asked on her other side, and she rolled her eyes, hoping it would distract from her blushing cheeks. She sank further into the couch as Ron sat between Harry and Ginny, doing everyone a favour. “You guys are crazy.” 

“Really? George, tell me… are my eyes deceiving me?-” Fred started as the amused grin on his face grew wider, as he trailed his finger to the collar of her shirt. He continued, “Or is that a hickey on our dear Potter’s neck?” 

He tugged her collar down, and her eyes widened as she noticed the big purple bruises all over her neck. She quickly swatted Fred’s hand away and covered the bruise with her hand. The twins laughed and her face turned a darker shade of red. George asked, “Now, would you care to tell us who the lucky guy is?” 

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” She replies, and their grins widen. Before they could reply, Mrs Weasley walks up to them with a camera in her hand, and she takes a photo of the three of them together. She goes around the room taking photos of everyone, she exclaims, “This is going to make an excellent album!”

“You’re right, it isn’t any of our business, but we’ll find out.” Fred said, and they dropped the subject for the rest of the night, she was grateful for that. It was about midnight when the excitement died down, and Mrs Weasley ushered everyone up to bed. There were a lot of groans of disapproval at that, but Mrs Weasley didn’t take any complaints. 

She was sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione. They spent the whole night dividing up the room, and organising their stuff around the bedroom. Bill had already conjured up two more beds for her and Hermione. She had already changed into her pyjamas and gotten ready for bed when she remembered. 

She rushed downstairs, and moved towards the door. She took her coat off the coat rack, and dug through her pockets to find the important letter. She let her coat fall to the ground as she rushed to open the letter. Her eyes skimmed the paper to find it all empty except for three words written in the centre of the paper, ‘I love you’ 

She doesn’t think she’s ever smiled that wide before in her life. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she had to resist the urge to jump up and down from happiness in order to not wake anyone up. If only she could write to him the same thing. 

“I assume the letter’s from Malfoy.” A voice says, and she turns to stone as she hides the letter behind her back and turns to face Ron. He has his arms folded in front of his chest, and she asks, “What?” 

“The letter. That’s making you jump up and down in joy. It’s from Malfoy, your boyfriend.” Ron explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She realises there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore, but she doesn’t understand how he knows, “Did Hermione tell you?” 

“Hermione doesn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know that she knew.” Ron says and she gets even more confused. Ron sits down on the sofa and she follows him. His face shows no emotion about how he feels about this. “I found out the day Katie got cursed.” 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were making their way to the Three Broomsticks where they spend most of their time in Hogsmeade and also where Y/N said she’d meet up with them. It was the first time that she didn’t go with them to Hogsmeade, but none of them thought anything of it. 

They sat down on the table and they ordered. A few minutes later, she walked in looking very joyous. She sat down next to Hermione and dazed off with a dreamy look on her face. Ron waved his hand in front of her to break her stare, and while she usually would’ve scolded him, she just kept smiling. Harry asked, “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing.” She replied and beside her Hermione had a sneaky smile on her face. Ron looked at them both with a frown and then pointed to her face saying, “You’ve got that weird thing on your face.” 

“What? A smile? It’s because I’m happy Ron.” She says with a slightly annoyed tone, but she still didn’t stop smiling. She still had a small glare on her face while she looked at him, so he stood up to go get their drinks. Just so she can stop looking at him, not for any other reason like a good looking woman. 

He walks up to the counter and places his hands on the table. He waits till Madame Rosmerta is in earshot then he says, “Hey Rosie, are our drinks ready?” 

She smiles and brings three butterbeers to Ron. She slides the glasses to him, expertly making sure they don’t fall. She looks at their table and a certain person that now she’s seen twice in one day catches her eye. She asks, “Is that Y/N over there?” 

“Yeah…why?” Ron replies, already slurping on his butterbeer. Madame Rosmerta shrugs her shoulders and says, “Nothing. She came in here this morning too, that’s all. No one comes in here twice a day…weird” 

“Do you know why she was here?” Ron asked, as he looked at her confused. He placed his cup down, not wanting to gulp it all in one go, knowing that he doesn’t have enough money to buy another one. Surprisingly, she says, “She looked like she was on a date with her boyfriend.” 

“With who?” Ron asks, almost immediately. This was completely new information. Y/N never went out on dates, many guys asked her but she always said no, or Harry would scare them into taking back their offer. Ron concluded that Harry didn’t know about this date. 

Madame Rosmerta furrowed her eyebrows and rubbed her eyes, trying to remember, it wasn’t surprising. She sees so many people on a daily basis. She groans then says, “Some guy, his hair was blonde, very blonde, nearly white.” 

Ron’s eyes widen and he nods his head. He grabs the three glasses, and he walks towards the table in shock. He places the glasses on the table, and Hermione and Harry grab theirs. Hermione asks, “What happened, Ron?” 

He opens his mouth then closes it again. He looks at Y/N to find her already looking at him, worried. How could someone as kind as her go out with someone as vile as Draco Malfoy. He looked at Hermione and shook his head. Harry shrugged his shoulders and chatted with Hermione. 

Ron looked back at her and noticed the wide smile still on her face. He always felt bad for both the Potter twins, especially after Sirius died. If he told Harry about this date with Draco, he would surely make her miserable, and Ron couldn’t do that to her, looking at her cute smile. He swallowed down his own feelings about the matter, and decided that it would be best not to tell anyone. 

“Leave it Rosie to spill everyone’s secrets.”she chuckled nervously, looking at the floor. Ron’s face still didn’t show any emotion that would show how he felt about the matter. She bit the inside of her cheek, “If you knew all this time, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell Harry?” 

“I- you were happy, I didn’t want to ruin that for you…” He trailed off, then after a few seconds he added, “Harry would’ve killed Malfoy if he found out, and I don’t think he’s fit for Azkaban.” He let out a small laugh at the end and she did the same. 

She took hold of Ron’s hand and said, “Thank you, Ron, really.”  He blushed furiously, and looked away from her. He brought his other hand to the back of his neck to scratch it awkwardly. “It was nothing, what are friends for, right?” 

She brought him into a hug, and he hugged her back. She couldn’t believe how heartfelt Ron was, he was always kind, but ever since their first year she knew that Ron favoured Harry over her, but this showed that he also cared about her deeply. “What’s going on here?” 

They parted to find that Harry was looking at them both angrily with his arms crossed over his chest. He tapped his foot on the floor, impatiently awaiting an answer. He looked like Mrs Weasley in a sense. She replied, “I was talking to Ron.” 

“Sure…talking.” Harry hummed, annoyed by the answer. Beside her, Ron was looking rather scared at her brother's angry expression. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of Harry’s threats, especially since he was his best friend. She patted Ron on the shoulder and stood up. She gave Ron a smile, then walked up to Harry. She glared at him saying, “Yes, talking, stop being so weird.” 

She climbs up the stairs, rolling her eyes when she hears Harry start to bicker with Ron. She went inside the room, slowly and quietly making sure that she didn't wake Ginny or Hermione. She slides underneath her covers, shaking off the cold feeling of not having Draco’s body to warm her. A smile settles on her face when she remembers the letter, and then she falls asleep.

Taglist:

@urbansaint @angelofasgard16 @offlines-idfk @love-me-satoru

[mushies-stories]

TV Yule log- drabble

Eddie X GN!Reader

Summary: it's your first Christmas in your own Trailor home. Eddie isn't sure if it's the best home, if you wished there was more to your new life with him and it sparks a conversation about the future.

Authors note: I wrote this real fast, but the idea came to me because google has a cute little Yule long and then I wanted to know when the first tv video was aired and here we are. my one and only holiday themed writing from this year... aha. I'll do better next year!

Warnings: none? Christmas? XD no use of Y/N.

“Did you know the first year they broadcasted the Yule log was in 1966?” you said. You sat in front of the big box TV while flipping through the channels.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't.”

Finally finding the station your face lit up as soon as you heard the crackling of the wood and the classical christmas tunes playing. “There we go!” you say with excitement and jump up, giddy and excited. You cross the room and flop down next to Eddie on the couch. “Now we can have the best first Christmas in our new home.” you proclaim with a wide smile.

“Yeah, well it is the closest thing this hunk of junk is ever going to get to a real fire.” He jokes, gesturing to the trailer home you two have recently moved into. It wasn't a bad home, a little small but for two it wasn't all that bad. And it was a first home, close to home and his uncle. It was a nice home to give you both time to figure the future out. 

“Maybe, but this is still a wonderful home Eddie.” you knew how bad he was bullied in school for living in the trailer park. Even if he knew deep down there was nothing wrong with it, he still carried that weight of that dumb stereotype in the back of his head. “It's cozy and warm. It fits me and you perfectly and I like it here.” you tell him and hook your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder. You want to reassure him that you truly love it there, with him, that it only matters that you have each other. 

There's a moment of silence. It's not awkward or weird, just a pause as your words take up all the space in his head. You watch the fire dance and let the Yule log and soft music fill in the silence. 

Then Eddie spoke. Voice quieter and a little unsure. “Really? This place is enough… you don't wish we could afford to leave hawkins?” he asked. Body testing a little as the words come out. 

You peaked up at him through your lashes, he wasn't looking at you, but at the TV. he looked like he was contemplating something, thinking about how things could be, or how he wants them to be maybe. 

“Yes.” you said simply. 

His eyes slide down to your own. You looked at him with pure truth in your eyes. He didn’t know how to respond, you were so sure about everything, like nothing scared you. Nothing seemed bothered you but how could that be true, How were you so perfect?

You smile softly and nuzzle your cheek into him and laced your fingers in his. “I love you Eddie, we have a whole future ahead of us and if you want to stay here, then I am more than happy to be by your side.” you say and give his shoulder a quick kiss. “And, if you want to leave, travel and find a better home then I will still be by your side. Forever and always Eddie.” You say everything with such a sweet and caring voice Eddie can't help but believe every word you say the moment they reach his ears. 

“I love you so much.” he says, a grin growing across his face. “As long as every Christmas and every other holiday is spent with you, I'll be the luckiest man in the world.” he kisses the top of your head and leans into your warmth. “We have time right? Time to grow and plan a good future, right?” he asks again, needing one last bit of reassurance from you. 

You smile, so big and bright that his heart aches and melts all at the same time. “We have time Eddie.” 

It was the first Christmas spent together in your new home. A night spent by the Yule log and long talks about what the future could hold for you both.

Followed by a morning of back and shoulder pain from falling asleep on the couch with tangled in each other's limbs.

Thank you for reading and happy holidays!

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Closer to You

Since his wife divorced him, A.J. Crowley makes good money writing romance novels. Having his characters fall in love is far less risk than doing it himself, especially while he takes the time to explore exactly who he is and what he likes in the bedroom. Sexual psychology student and cam worker Aziraphale enjoys understanding pleasure. But only from a safe distance. He's too busy working on his PhD to fall in love. The idea of making himself so vulnerable to rejection again is, quite frankly, terrifying. It seems a simple enough arrangement to help each other out, and lend a hand when needed. They are such big fans of each others' *work*, after all.

Length: 44,049 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, After Dark, Human AU, Comedy

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

*Minor Spoilers* How the hell do you guys keep coming up with the most devilishly good stories?? Here we have Crowley as a romance writer, who is just coming to terms with his queerness and lack of sex life. Aziraphale is a sex researcher who struggles with relationships and lets out steam by performing on cam. This premise really intrigued me because you’d expect the roles to be reversed. Usually Crowley is depicted as the sexual one, and Aziraphale the bookish professor. This story said nah flip the script. This was absolutely delightful. The chemistry was off the charts. They can’t handle 5 minutes in each other’s presence without wanting to devour each other. They are exactly what each other needs and wants sexually, but they'll come to find out it's more than just that. They compliment each other so perfectly intellectually and that's what I love in every iteration! How they can volley ideas back and forth and keep up with each other's wit. Their relationship has great ups and downs, and I was engaged the entire time. The only thing that took me getting used to was Aziraphale as a youngish student. It's in character definitely, but he's not tickety-boo grandpa here and at first it felt strange. The author has a handle on it though, and I bought into this younger Aziraphale fairly quick.

That’s not all there is to this story though. We have excellent side characters with Gabriel, Nina, Maggie, and Warlock all used to wonderful effect. I particularly loved Gabriel, who was so funny in every scene leaning into his Jimbriel side. Warlocks addition proved to be a great plot line too. I was a little worried about that side at first but ended up really happy for his inclusion.

The other amazing thing about this story is that it works as a meta commentary on smut that felt like a mini therapy session for the reader. A big part of Aziraphale’s work, and their discussions, revolve around why people read smut. How it soothes anxiety by redirecting negative thoughts into pleasurable ones. The safety and comfort that smut brings due to the lack of visuals and real world hang-ups. The way it’s cathartic for both writer and reader. It sees us and says, we both know why we’re here let’s make the most of it shall we? Not only was it fun to read in that meta way, it was a genuinely insightful conversation.

Some more word salad to describe this one: bold, mature, thoughtful, hot as fuck, funny, engaging, and did I mention hot as fuck? At home after dark read. I binged this one, you’re going to get sucked into this plot so I’d carve out some time for a single sitting.

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

[commander-rahrah]

Only for him - Gale x GN!Reader

Pairing: Gale x GN!Reader Word Count: ~ 530 Warnings/Tags: act 2 spoilers, angst, hurt, talk of death and blood, eventually happyish?, no use of y/n, some in game dialogue Setting: Act 2, Ilithid Colony under Moonrise Towers

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

I've been flipping back in forth between my fics, while also finishing up my most recent playthrough of my fighter Tav x Gale romance save. And I couldn't help but want to make more of an angsty/hurt version of the conversation you have with him when you convince Gale to not blow himself the eff up in Moonrise Towers.

For the purposes of this tiny little ficlit, Tav/Reader is a melee tank (fighter, paladin, etc.) Folk Hero who has been through the ringer, lost many people and is just very... very tired. And has been waiting to get their own happy ending for so long that they thought it would never happen.

Anyways, I have enough on my plate with my two fics so I'm not committing to anything but I really enjoyed fleshing out this little headcannon dream I had while playing my newest playthrough. And I think Gale deserves all the love too! Thank you for reading, and if you liked it let a girl know!

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

"This is it. I must do as Mystra commands." Gale took a steadying breath, his brown eyes looking anywhere but you. He had them focused ahead, on the monstrosity that was the so-called Absolute.

His leather boot took one step forward, but his movement halted as you stepped in front of him. Your heart was aching, a real physical pain cracking through it. "Gale, you cannot do this. Please, don't do this." You begged, your armored hand wrapped around his bound forearm.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed thickly, "What choice do I have? More than just a goddess counts on my courage: whole worlds hang in the balance." His dark eyes looked at you sadly, anguish etching the features of his face as his wrist turned so he could hold back onto you. His fingers trembling like it would be his last touch.

Your lips quivered as you stepped closer to him. Even in this dank, evil abyss under the Tower you breathed in his familiar, warm scent. "I have spent my entire life fighting and bleeding. All I have known is death. I have stared it down on my knees, shattered and broken - even if it never came to take me, it took everyone else. And I was… so tired, so ready to give up." Tears were welling in your eyes, emotion crawling up your throat until your words choked out of you. "But then I met you. And all of it, every screaming muscle as I swung my blade, every aching bone as I took another hit, every drop of blood, every scream and tear shed... all of it was worth it. Because it led to you."

Tears were streaming down both of your cheeks now, leaving lines of clean skin as it cut through the dust and dirt and blood that stained your face. "Please, Gale - my love. Don't do this. We have time. We can have time." You grabbed either side of his face, his brown eyes softening as you tipped your forehead onto his. Your voice was a whisper, "I choose you, Gale. Not the wizard, not the sacrifice or Goddess' pawn. The man I love. Choose me back. The one who loves you. We can find another way together. I love you."

"I love you too. Much more than myself. More even than Mystra. Whether I condemn this world or not: I choose you." He nodded, his forehead still pressed tightly to yours as he pressed his lips softly to yours.

It was not the time nor place for such gentle acts of love. Not with an abomination around the corner, not with an undying man waiting to unleash his evil machinations on the world so close by. But you could not help yourself, not when it came to Gale. You pressed your lips harder to his for just a moment longer, memorizing the feeling and taste of him before you pulled away.

The pair of you nodded at each other breathlessly, eyes shifting with determination.

You would draw your sword and hold up your shield again. You would fight another day. Fight for another lifetime. You would stare down and ward off death once again. If only for him. Only for him.

[listenheresweaty]

Revivebur x Reader Part 4

Hhh i hate how this turned out, but here it is. parts 1-3 can be found in my masterlist (pinned post)

taglist: @witheredroseanon

there's 1/2 of my debt to the doggo. siren fic will be coming out soon.

He doesn’t stop bothering you, but your drawers do stay locked after that incident in the forest— or maybe it’s just the new locks you’ve installed. Wilbur seems to have changed tactics, deciding to annoy you with his constant presence instead of directly interfering with your life by stealing or breaking things. Occasionally, you do go a little mad while looking for a certain tool in your cabinets, but as soon as you turn around you meet Wilbur’s eyes. He holds up the item as if asking, “you looking for this?”

You don’t have to say anything. He silently holds out whatever he’s stolen towards you, his smirk never fading even as you snatch it back. 

Soon, this barely fazes you anymore. When your wrench goes missing, you don’t even look up from the table— you just hold out your hand to the side and he places it in your palm, snickering quietly. 

And if Wilbur notices you lean closer to the table to hide your smile, he doesn’t mention it. 

 It’s easier to tolerate him as time goes on, even if he’s squatting on your land and laughs in your face at any suggestions of making him pay rent. 

One day, Tommy runs out to find Wilbur waiting in the lawn. He greets his little brother, reluctantly roped into conversation— but it’s immediately clear that his mind is elsewhere. Even while giving distracted, half-finished responses to Tommy’s queries, Wilbur’s tilting on his feet, subtly leaning over from side to side as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see through the bushes and into the house. But there’s nothing— and no one— there. 

“What are you looking for?” Tommy asks, confused. 

“Nothing.” Wilbur sighs, almost seeming disappointed. “C’mon, Toms. Let’s go to, um… where did you say you wanted to go again?”

The two set off to spy on Tommy’s old hotel  (Tommy wanted to see how it was faring under the Manifold regime) and hold one of their first real, honest conversations in months. 

During one of Wilbur’s rants, Tommy begins to notice some marked differences in Wilbur’s conversation topics. He no longer goes on and on about why you’re a bad influence and Tommy should stay away— he slanders you regularly, yes, but never mentions Tommy’s possible departure from your house like he used to before the fight. 

“—And they have all these maps and papers cluttered all over their study, fanning out across every room like some sort of cursed web of documents, and god FORBID someone touches those papers or moves them in the slightest way because they will just flip the fuck out— I swear to god they’re insane Tommy, they drive me insane, with their stupid notes and crazy plans and constant nagging voice and that absolutely arrogant, unbothered attitude as they just chill in this stupid cabin on this ridiculously tall mountain, and don’t bat an eye at anything that I— at anything that anyone does— they make no sense and they—----- they just drive me nuts, Tommy, absolutely nuts. I don’t know how you deal with them.” 

Wilbur was rambling on and on to Tommy about how infuriatingly maddening you are, excitedly waving his hands as he tried to make his point. Tommy listened in bewilderment. 

“They’re not arrogant.” Tommy protested. “You’re just a nuisance.” 

“Tommy, you can’t see that behavior and think it’s normal.”

“What behavior? Writing plans on paper? Liking things organized?”

“No, no. The—- the—” Wilbur waves his hands emphatically, staring at Tommy as if trying to get Tommy to understand his point without outright saying it. 

Tommy does not get it. 

“Nah, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. They—” Tommy says, before being cut off. 

“I’m just saying–” Wilbur attempts. 

“No. You aren’t—” 

“Not that they’re dangerous–”

“We aren’t doing this—” 

“They could never be dangerous, I’m just saying—”

“Oi, prick! They’ve given both of us a roof to sleep under and meals to eat. Actually, there’s mushroom stew tonight and I’d fucking appreciate it if you’d refrain from being an arsehole at dinner.” 

“Wh— me?” Wilbur stops in the middle of saying something else and looks at Tommy. “Me? At dinner?” 

“Yeah, they’ve invited you too. Can’t see why..” Tommy grumbles, hiding behind some tree to squint at the hotel in the distance. “Look, Manifold’s coming out! …What the hell is he wearing? Is that supposed to be a uniform? He looks like dollar store versions of the Queen’s guards.. Wilbur! Are you listening?”

“...Hm? Oh, yeah. Manifold. What’s he doing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Now, when he moves away, we need to….”

Tommy kept talking, but very little of what he said seemed to have registered in Wilbur’s mind. Although Manifold had just gone back into the hotel to sleep, thus rendering their plans useless, Tommy had definitely noticed how Wilbur’s mind had been somewhere else during the conversation. During the entire day, actually. 

And when they return later that evening to find you having already cooked the mushroom stew (not in order to avoid Tommy in the kitchen, not at all), Tommy is paying very close attention. As the (very big) man of the house, he has to stay vigilant, you know?

As Wilbur drapes himself over the couch after dinner, Tommy takes note of how his older brother’s eyes follow your movements around the house with a faint smirk— almost a smile. 

What?

It takes Tommy a few seconds to realize you’re talking to him. He tunes in to your voice and manages to catch the tail end of the conversation;

“... the creeper unfortunately got stuck in the brewing room, so now I’ve lost half of everything in there. It shouldn’t be too hard to replenish the supply though, since Wilbur’s agreed to help and he’s quite good at potions.” 

At that, Wilbur glances down and fiddles with an old tear in his sweater, lips twitching into a smile. 

What?

The threads in Wilbur’s sweater  accidentally start to come loose and his brow furrows, tangling his fingers in the strings as he tries to tug them free– but that only worsens the tear.

“...But it will still cause a delay, so we’ll have to postpone that visit to the Beloved_ household. I’ve already asked Philza to send a crow—Wilbur, what are you doing?”

Wilbur freezes, looking up from the growing mess he’s making of his sweater collar. He coughs and averts his eyes, trying to come up with an explanation but falls silent when you make your way over to him and gently pry his hands from the tear. Wilbur lets his hands fall to his side, not moving from his reclining position on the couch as he lets you do your thing.

“I’m only tying and tucking in the threads here, so I’ll need to bring it to the village to be fixed.” You say as you fix the tear in his sweater, looking up when you’re finished. 

“Thanks.” Wilbur says quietly, smiling. 

Surprisingly, you return the smile— then promptly let go of his sweater and resume tidying up your office space on the other side of the room.

What. 

As soon as you move back into the kitchen to rummage around for some plates, Tommy leans in to hiss in Wilbur’s ear. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? What was that?”

“Hm?” Wilbur lifts his head to look at Tommy. “What was what?”

“That.” Tommy gestures to Wilbur’s sweater, then at you.  

Wilbur blinks, looking for a moment like a deer in headlights. He regained his composure, lips slowly spreading into a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to argue further, but the sounds of plates being set on the table snapping him out of it. “Fine.” He mutters reluctantly to Wilbur as he goes to help you set the table. “But you are helping me wash the dishes after this.”

Wilbur snorts. “Fat chance.”

The tension continues throughout dinner, submerging the three in silence as the sounds of cutlery against plates echoed through the room. You eyed the two boys across from you. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask warily. 

Tommy hesitated, scowling, but Wilbur cut him off. 

“All good!” He says lightly, stirring his stew. Tommy’s eyes narrow further— and so do yours, although for different reasons. 

“Right.” You say suspiciously. “Anyway, I’ll be going out to find a crow and send that letter after dinner.”

“I can—“

“I’ll go with you.” Tommy cuts Wilbur off, sending him a dirty glare. 

“Neither of you will be coming with me. It’s dark out, and two people will only attract more attention from the monsters. Besides, someone has to make sure Wilbur doesn’t steal my stuff.” You give each of them a pointed look.  

“What a low opinion you have of me, darling.” Wilbur grins, but he concedes and takes another sip of the soup. 

As soon as the soup is finished, you get up and begin gathering the plates. Tommy stands with you, helping you bring them over to the sink. 

“Wilbur, can you help Tommy wash the dishes tonight?” You call over your shoulder as you grab your coat from the closet. 

“Of course.” Wilbur agrees, leaning against the wall. 

“Great.” You button up the coat and ruffle Tommy’s hair. “See you later, then.” 

Just before leaving, you gave Wilbur a swift peck to the cheek. “Goodbye to you, too.” 

You leave the house, leaving your two stunned guests in the living room. 

Tommy was yammering and protesting about something next to his ear, but Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at the door you had just left through, a stupid smile on his face. 

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yes there will be a part 5. 

It will be headcanons though, not a full fic

credit for the divider goes to @firefly-graphics

[fluffybutt-7]

Hi Fluff,

Looking super cute and cuddly 😊

I have a question for you. I'm a lifelong skinny guy (I used to weigh 130 lbs at 5'11") who finally made his way up to 220 lbs. And I had absolutely no intentions of stopping before 300 lbs. I was happier with my body than I'd ever been.

Unfortunately I got really bad reflux/GERD which still plagues me every morning, to the point that I have no appetite for half of the day and even throw up a little almost every day.

I tried some medication (pantoprazole) which works great, but it's not something I want to take forever because it's not without risks or side effects either.

Now I'm wondering where I should draw the line. Throughout the day I keep flip flopping (gain, lose, gain, lose) depending on my stomach, and it's frustrating. So now I've been hovering around 200 lbs for a while.

You've posted about medical issues before so I wanted to know your thoughts and reflections on topics like these.

Thank you so much ❤️

Hey there!! Thank you so much 🥰🙈 Been feeling nice and fluffy lately:3

So, I will preface this with I am not a medical professional at all, and to definitely talk with your doctor about different treatment options that would allow you to get back to eating the things you like. :) Now then, let’s begin…

Honestly, that line depends on each person. And it can change with the same person over time! Gaining and feederism are lifestyle fetishes that unfortunately come with some inherent risks that we all have to wrestle with at times. You are not alone, and whatever you feel about those risks is valid. Period. I’m currently taking pantoprazole, actually, and am going to try getting off of it because yes, it can really fuck up your body long term. Which my doctors didn’t tell me and have been having me take it since fucking September, but anyhoo. 🙃🥲

But I’m right there with you - being in this blubbery, overfed body has made me happier than anything else. I’m so much happier and feel more “at home” in this body compared to when I was 145lbs. We deserve to do the things that bring us joy and fulfillment, and medicine can help us achieve those things. To me, it’s worth it. I see my insulin and my blood pressure medication as tools to help me live the lifestyle I want. Would everyone feel that way? No. And that’s okay! Each of us are on our own journey in life and gaining, and we get to decide what that journey looks like. Not rando feeders telling us what to eat, not our followers (love you guys tho), us. We get to decide. It’s not something to decide lightly, and I can tell you’ve already put a lot of thought into it. But ultimately, where you draw that line is up to you. Talk to your doctor about different treatment options for reflux and GERD (I know I’m going to have to have that conversation with mine, too), and most importantly, listen to your body. You do not have to gain 24/7 to be a “real gainer”. You wanna get fatter? That brings you joy and gratification? Then you’re a gainer, period. It’s inside us - and it doesn’t go away overnight.

I hope my rambling was able to provide some food for thought and some resolve, and know that no matter what you decide to do, you’ve made amazing progress and you’ll always be a gainer in my eyes.

Take care, reach out when/if you need to, and I hope you’re having a fabulous holiday season. ❤️

[the-expose-on-girls]

Mean Girls Become Mean Moms

"The Terrifyingly Nasty, Backstabbing, and Altogether Miserable World of the Suburban Mom"

By Julie Suratt

Excerpts:

"Here I’d thought all moms were in this muddle together—one big happy family, for better or for worse—when actually, just the opposite is true. It turns out that suburban life is dictated by the kind of tribal behavior I thought we’d grown out of: popular girls and their obsequious minions willing to do anything to fit in. But this time, with kids, money, and jobs on the line, the stakes are even higher. And so you have countless grown women cowering behind their beautifully trimmed hedges in bucolic towns around Boston, trying to avoid getting 'fired' from their friend circle while simultaneously hating every minute they have to spend with those ladies who lunch. It’s a mom-eat-mom world out there, and I was pretty sure the Wayland Yacht Club was just the tip of the iceberg in this particular suburban nightmare."

"Ironically, Leslie suspects her Queen Bee, whose husband is in sales, doesn’t have that kind of money to lay out. 'She puts a lot of effort into looking like she’s got more than she does'—shopping on eBay for designer brands, carrying a Whole Foods reusable bag but shopping at Market Basket, and doing her nails at home—'yet ‘checking in’ from a salon on Facebook,' Leslie says incredulously. She always put herself in charge of the check at dinner, and 'she’d put in less than everybody else—after ordering more drinks and expensive food,' Leslie adds."

"Of course, there’s a flip side to a Queen Bee’s charm: They often use emotional bribery to keep their minions loyal. They get close very quickly to learn secrets that can be used against people at a later date. 'I’ve seen clients in tears talking about how they’d discuss a marital issue with the Queen Bee, and then it would be shared with the group,' Hurowitz says. 'Queen Bees believe that they are in charge of disseminating information, and that’s part of how they maintain power.' Had Melissa done that to me? I’ll admit that although I’d walked in with eyes wide open, our conversation got personal fast."

"Leslie says her Queen Bee booted her because she decided that she 'hadn’t behaved in a manner befitting of the group' at a party. 'I wasn’t feeling well and had only half a drink,' Leslie explains. But the Queen Bee thought Leslie was drunk—a no-no among these ladies, who seem to think it’s their job to keep the suburbs clean and morally upright. 'They’d created this perfect image of themselves, and they wanted everything to exemplify this image,' she says—even as they stabbed each other in the back in their attempts to clamber up the social ladder."