#but then i remembered he wrote it so i was like oh yeah hes self aware but entirely unrepentant

[mihotose]

The Horne Section TV Show | Episode 1

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 2,8k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest.

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[itneverendshere]

can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with feelings; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism; p in v out in public??; wrote the word moan a thousand times.

you drive him insane. 

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind? 

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself. 

it's not fair. 

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. 

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from. 

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you. 

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked. 

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does. 

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here. 

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes. 

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself. 

too fucking smart for you own good. 

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right? 

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm. 

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober. 

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates. 

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven? 

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words. 

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure. 

the heat is not helping his situation at all. 

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere. 

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs. 

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business. 

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you. 

rafe is staring at you. 

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him. 

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button. 

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain. 

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree. 

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke. 

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this? 

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now. 

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion. 

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. 

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time. 

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment. 

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat. 

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs. 

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze. 

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him. 

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger. 

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure. 

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.  

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body. 

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth. 

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips. 

and then, you feel empty. 

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not. 

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him. 

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind. 

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you. 

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching. 

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy. 

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.” 

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air. 

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name. 

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. 

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. 

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you. 

______________________________________________________________

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute.

let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

[milkywaygalaxygurl]

The Go-Ahead - Art Donaldson

request: hiii could you do any plot/story/scenario where tashi knows art is interested/in love/infatuated or just attracted to reader so she gives him the green light as long as it’ll have him play tennis better … sorry if this doesn’t make sense or is weirdly specific i’m just a little obsessed with this scenario

i took some liberties with the personality of Y/N since it wasn’t specified, i made her shy and a little awkward because i could definitely see art falling for an adorably shy woman after being with tashi’s confident self for so long. i wrote this as the reader being female because gender wasn’t specified, but let me know if you’d like me to change it!! i personally really hate the way i wrote this and it’s definitely not my best, i honestly might rewrite it eventually because there’s kind of a lack of romance but i really hope y’all like it:’)

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female!Reader

Warnings: thoughts of infidelity, probably swearing, suggestive words, idk if i missed anything else but yeah

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: Y/N caught Art’s eye the second she walked into the Stanford reunion Tashi had practically forced Art to attend. He couldn’t believe how breathtakingly beautiful she was or the fact that he was thinking this way about someone other than Tashi. Unbeknownst to Art, Tashi notices and forms a plan.

Art loved Tashi wholeheartedly, he always had and always would. Some part of him knew that Tashi would never love him as much as he did her, but he felt content knowing she chose him to spend her life with. Even if they fought about tennis and rarely spoke about anything else, Art never thought anybody could take his eyes off Tashi.

That is, until you walked into the venue the Stanford reunion was being held in. It’s almost as if his eyes were drawn to your presence entering the room, eyes immediately snapping towards you. His breath catches in his throat for a second, his eyes widening slightly. He lets out an awkward cough, nodding when Tashi asks if he’s okay.

He tries not to make it obvious when he glances back at you to catch another look, but Tashi notices and follows his line of sight. She has to force herself to hold back a scoff at first, but an idea quickly forms in her head. She studies you just like Art, noticing the way you give awkward smiles and how the flush in your cheeks never seems to lessen as you fidget awkwardly and stumble through small talk with former classmates.

You are beautiful, even Tashi can admit that, she doesn’t blame Art for allowing his eyes to wander (especially with the state of their relationship). As you move closer to the couple, Tashi suddenly realizes that she had a class with you all those years ago. You were kind to her after her knee injury, you weren’t the best of friends but you had taken notes for her while she missed class for physical therapy and always offered a helping hand when needed.

She glances at Art, noticing how his eyes are still trained on you. She chuckles slightly before making her mind up, looping her arm through Art’s and practically dragging him over to where you stand.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so good to see you!” She plasters on a smile, chuckling slightly when you look at her wide eyed for a second. You were still the same shy girl you were back then, it had honestly always annoyed Tashi how unconfident you were.

“Tashi! Wow, you look amazing.” You smile at her after getting over your initial awkwardness, turning to look at Art for a second before looking back at her. Tashi clocks it immediately, but doesn’t let either of you know.

“Oh hush, look at you! I’m sure you remember Art, right?” She lays a hand on her husband’s arm, turning to look at him. He’s looking at you like a lovesick puppy and, in all honesty, it doesn’t bother her one bit.

“Yeah, of course! You guys were like the prodigies of our class, I think you guys are part of the very few of us who actually went on to make a name for themselves.” You chuckle, glancing at Art again.

It takes Art a minute to even speak, but his mouth finally starts to move as he holds a hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. Y/N, was it?”

You shake his hand softly, nodding your head. “I helped Tashi a little after her knee injury, I’m honestly surprised she even remembered me!” Chuckling awkwardly, you take your hand back and hope he didn’t notice how sweaty it was.

Tashi pretends to notice something across the room, apologizing profusely and saying she’ll be right back. When Art tries to follow her, she shoos him away and tells him to stay talking with you. He tries not to seem too excited at the idea, but the way he turns around quickly gives him away.

Art notices the way you fidget with the rings on your fingers and the way your eyes dart around awkwardly as if you’re looking for the nearest escape. He honestly thinks it’s adorable, but tries his best to help you feel less awkward by starting a new conversation.

“What was your major?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. The question seems to ease the tension, your eyes lighting up as you smile.

“Originally it was Journalism but after I realized that I’d have to interview people, I very quickly switched to just having English as my major. I wrote a few books that didn’t get as much attention as I hoped they would, so I’m an editor for a magazine now.”

“It’s actually kind of crazy, the last thing I edited was a column about you.” You smile at him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he smiles in return.

“All good things, I hope?” He asks, making you nod your head quickly as you jump to reassure him.

Tashi never returned to the conversation despite swearing she would and you talked with Art for what felt like hours. Before you knew it, you were laughing like old friends and the conversation was flowing nicely. You catch yourself wondering what it would be like if you had met him all those years ago, if maybe he’d have had a crush on you before he dated Tashi.

You knew it was wrong to think that way about a married man, but you rationalized it out by saying they were just thoughts. Truly, that’s all they were. You would never try meddling in a relationship that seemed as strong as theirs. You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you glanced down at your phone, your mouth falling open in shock.

“We’ve been talking for so long!” Turning your phone around to show Art the time, his own mouth falls open too before splitting into a grin.

“I really hate to say this, but I really have to go. I have to go into work early tomorrow and I really need to get a good night’s sleep beforehand.” You look up at him with puppy dog eyes and Art swears he felt his heart skip a beat.

“That’s alright, I really enjoyed talking to you. Let’s go find Tashi and we’ll walk you out, we should get going too.” He looks around for a second and almost immediately spots Tashi, pointing her out to you so you two can make your way over.

You say an awkward goodbye once you’re at your car and before you step in, Tashi is calling out to you for your number. “We should keep in touch! We can all go out for drinks sometime.”

You give it to her, honestly a little startled she wanted to keep in contact. You exchange another goodbye before driving off, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you see Art again.

It took Tashi all of two seconds to turn to Art with a raised eyebrow. “You seemed to really like her.” Her voice is deadpan, her arms crossed.

“Wh- What do you mean?” He looks at her wide eyed, like a child who’s been caught. She chuckles, shaking her head.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in and the whole time you guys were talking, I’m not stupid.” Art gaps at her, his mouth opening and shutting a few times.

“Art, I don’t give a fuck. Why do you think I asked for her number?” He’s still gaping at her, trying to find the right words.

“You’ve been playing like shit, you can’t deny it. She made you the most excited I’ve seen you in a while. If she’s what it takes for you to play good again, I don’t care if you fuck her. Hell, you could enter a full blown relationship with her and I wouldn’t care if it means you play better.”

Art tries to defend himself, tries to say he would never do that to Tashi, but part of him is excited at the prospect of her giving him the go-ahead. After lots of convincing and back and forth between them, Art decides to just go for it. You guys all hung out after that night a few times, but eventually Tashi was always “busy” and it turned into just you and Art going out for drinks or watching movies. It wasn’t until after a few months of these hang outs when Art decided to bring up the idea to you.

“I know this is a really strange offer, but I really just need you to hear me out before you say anything.” His words make you raise an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. You notice how nervous he seems, his thumb rubbing the ring on his finger.

“I find you attractive, I honestly really like you. I know I’m married to Tashi, but her and I have honestly been going downhill for months. All we ever talk about is tennis, she barely even wants to touch me anymore. I- I know it’s strange, but she gave me permission to pursue something with you. If you’re interested, that is.”

You stare at him for a second, your face void of any emotion. “Did she really give you the okay or is this just some manipulation tactic? Because you know how I feel about cheating.”

He nods his head quickly, “If you want, you can talk to her about it. We’ve been discussing this since the night I met you, that’s why these hang outs eventually turned into just you and I.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want this, but you didn’t want to enter into something that would inevitably cause pain for all parties involved.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to fuck you and then let you go home to your family? I can’t do that to myself, Art.” In the months that you’d been hanging out with Art, your shyness slowly disappeared and he got to see the more confident side of you. He couldn’t deny that it made him like you all the more.

“I-I mean, if you really wanted to, we don’t have to just do that. We could be in a relationship, I could stay with you some nights and go home for Lilly other nights. I don’t want you to think I just want to use you, because I don’t want to. You’re amazing, Y/N. These past few months have been so nice, I love just getting to sit with you and not having to talk about tennis or training. You make me feel normal, like I’m not just a puppet.”

You rub your forehead again, closing your eyes to think. “We can do this, but all three of us need to sit down and discuss boundaries. We need to do this right.”

Art’s face breaks out into a bright grin, his hands reaching for your own. “That’s fine with me, thank you for giving this a chance.”

The next day, you found yourself having the awkward sit down with him and Tashi to discuss boundaries. It took nearly the whole day, but eventually things were settled. With the weight of that off your chest, you felt comfortable starting something with Art.

Months went by and your love for Art only grew deeper. He was so kind and attentive, always making sure you were still okay with the arrangement and that you felt cared for. You feared the dynamic would be weird, but you often saw Tashi and even met Lilly a few times. Things were going amazing and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

It was nearly six months into your relationship the first time Art told you he loved you. You were lying in bed, the TV casting a glow in the otherwise dark room. Art was cuddled into your side, his head resting on her chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you. As he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and felt your chest move with every breath you took, he realized just how glad he was to have met you that night. He had gotten better at playing, he felt more loved than he had honestly ever felt with Tashi, and he was truly and utterly content with his life.

“Y/N?” He whispers your name, propping his head up on your chest to look at you. You look down at him, running your fingers through his hair as you smile softly at him. You hum softly to let him know you’re listening, it was something you did often that made Art’s heart skip several beats.

“I love you, truly. I’m so glad I met you and I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.” His words make you smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean down to give him a million kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.” Art grins at you, sitting up so he can kiss your face. You giggle at the feeling, grabbing his face to pull him in for a real kiss. You were truly so grateful for Art and your relationship, and you were grateful for Tashi allowing it. This was the happiest you’d been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[froggiewrites]

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” 

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[mitsuyeaah]

hey, i was wondering how bonten (or ran, rindo, and sanzu) would act if they misunderstood a situation between you and your older brother and they got all jealous. (no inc*st or step-cest or anything like that). it’s a funny trope so i thought i’d ask lol

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

syn: bonten trio accidentally misunderstanding a situation between you and your older brother.

TR ft. RAN, RINDOU, SANZU

cw: swearing, jealous!bonten trio but other than that, just pure fluff, pet names (baby, babe, princess, darling)

a/n: sorry this took quite a while, anon! wrote this while i was at the gym hehe

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RAN HAITANI

— tries to understand the situation. ran tries to keep a cool front, keyword: tries. he knows he’s mature enough to not jump to conclusions but it’s driving him absolutely crazy so he resorts to confrontation.

“oh, hey babe! just getting this sorted out.” ran stared at the scene in front of him, he could feel his limbs tingling from he didn’t know what exactly—jealousy? anger? confusion? you sat on the living room floor, assembling the new coffee table you and ran had bought; it was all fine until his eyes landed on a man sitting across you, helping with the furniture. what the fuck? you had come up to him so casually with another man in his presence, kissing his cheek as you greeted him. were you not ashamed one bit? guilty? that another man was under the roof the two of you shared? stepped foot in a home designed for you and him only? ran stood there, pools of lilac boring holes onto the unknown man’s head.

you turned to ran, noticing the shift in his aura but his eyes were locked onto the man next to you. before you could call out his name, he opened his mouth, “and who might you be? didn’t know we had a.. guest, if i may.” his tone was flat and cold but a saccharine smile made its way to his lips as if to taunt the man. you furrowed your brows, “ran—” “no, princess. i want to hear from him. he’s got his own voice, yeah?” you blinked up at ran as he cut you off. was he being for real right now? why was he being rude?

your older brother let out an awkward chuckle and scratched at his nape, “i’m- i’m their older brother.. uh, nice to meet you, ran haitani, right?” your sibling hastily stood up, jutting out an arm at ran who looked like he had seen a ghost. every single feeling was drained from his body at the man’s introduction. well shit. “darling.. i’ve told you about my older brother so many times.. do you not remember?” ran wracked around his brain. shit. shit. you had told him but he somewhat forgot about it.

he stood there for a few seconds before quickly shaking your brother’s hand, “oh fuck, i’m so sorry! shit shit— i didn’t mean to be rude at all!” ran’s eyes widened before profusely bowing in front of your older brother. you bit back a smile, ran has never acted like this before—it was such a sight to see him all flustered and embarrassed. a man who’s nothing but self assured turned into a flustered mess in front of your brother. “you treat all strangers like this..?” your brother mused, clearly joking. ran’s mouth opened and closed as he turned crimson red. both you and your sibling laughed out loud at his awkward state.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RINDOU HAITANI

— waits for you to admit it. rindou is not a man of many words, he doesn’t really like confrontations and would rather hear it from you without him having to ask you—even if it swarms his thoughts day and night.

“you know.. you can tell me anything..” rindou’s deep voice sliced through the peaceful silence of the night, the vibrations from his chest going straight to your ear as you lie your head atop it. there was this slight hesitancy in his tone that made you furrow your brows, “hm? what do you mean?” you angled your head to look up at his face—his amethyst eyes were cast with the warm glow of the bedside lamp but you could see the swirling storm behind it. rindou stared straight ahead, his hand had stopped rubbing your back. he bit his lip, feeling a lump in his throat as he mustered the courage to say something. to address the elephant in the room.

“i.. i know you’re seeing someone else.. i saw another man’s shoes at the doorstep when i came home.” upon seeing it earlier, rindou turned and left to clear his thoughts. he closed his eyes, his hand that hovered over your back balled into a fist. furrowing your brows, you put the pieces together in your head and before you knew it, a wide grin was plastered on your face. rindou’s eyes shot open as you burst out laughing, no sign of guilt on your face. he was confused. “wha—” “baby.. those shoes you saw earlier? they were my brother’s! he came by to meet you but you came home later than usual.” you buried your face in his chest, shaking with laughter.

rindou’s brows shot up, “but— how— you didn’t tell me..?” “i texted you, remember? though i don’t think you replied at all.” realisation sank in and rindou wanted the bed to swallow him whole. his phone had died and had no way of charging it, hence why he didn’t see your text earlier. he buried his face in his palms as he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. how could he be so silly? “fuck, how embarrassing.. i’m so sorry for assuming, baby. i—” “baby, it’s okay.” you tried to console him but ended up bursting with laughter at the situation, earning a deep sigh from rindou and his face shielded with his hands.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ HARUCHIYO SANZU

— immediately jumps to a conclusion. sanzu is a very clingy partner, he sees another man next to you? he sees red. doesn’t beat around the bush, and he gets straight to the point—this behaviour of his, he’s picked up from doing his job in bonten.

“who the hell is this?! are you cheating on me?” you almost dropped the plate you were holding at sanzu’s loud voice. there he stood at the entrance of the kitchen, sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up, hair tousled—a clear sign of a rough day from work. a vein was prominent at the side of his neck as he questioned you. sanzu narrowed his eyes at the man who stood next to you, not only was he in his kitchen, he also wore his apron. “sanzu! that-that’s not the way to greet my brother!” you took a few steps to stand in front of him as you saw rage brewing behind his azure eyes; it all quickly dissipated as his eyes darted between the two of you. oh. you two did have the same eyes.

sanzu bit his bottom lip, embarrassment quickly swallowing him. he remembered his outburst a few seconds ago and he wanted nothing but to crawl into a hole. “ah.. um.. my apologies. didn’t know you had an older brother.” he sheepishly smiled at you, scratching at his nape. “well now you do. he was so eager to meet you, you know.” you raised a brow at him before proceeding to set up for dinner—with the help of your older brother. sanzu awkwardly stood there, feeling out of place. he locked gazes with your brother before shuffling to his feet and warmly greeting the man; you playfully shook your head at sanzu as you heard him profusely apologising, his tone much calmer and quieter now.

throughout the night, sanzu kept close. he fully knew you were still a bit upset at how he acted towards your brother. he didn’t blame you, it was entirely his fault. he was clingy—a hand on your thigh, an arm slung around your waist, his shoulder touching yours. you’ve already forgiven him earlier but you wanted to see how far he’d keep up with this; it was cute to say the least. how he followed you like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs, clearly guilty of his actions.

© mitsuyeaah

[magicalink]

Do they fuck or do they make love?

Headcanons with no specific AU! Mainly character x reader but it ended up implying character x character ships too in sime characters. I wrote this headcanons and when I was reading them to my boyfriend (who is my only beta reader) he started giving his opinions about them and I found his comments absolutely hilarious so I decided to include them! 🤣 First go my headcanons about the character and then my boyfriend's comments indented. Some of them are unhinged 🤣

Venti: Depends on the partner and the situation. He adores making delicate love to you but he's always up for a quickie in the middle of the house, the forest, anywhere and anytime you're willing. And oh Archons, is he intense when he does any of the two! He likes sex to be THE experience, and he tends to be over the top when it comes to it. Also an uncontrollable moaning machine.

Bf: Nah, he fucks. All the time. Cuz he is drunk all the time. We all know his only love is alcohol. I agree on the moaning machine part though, he is loud and doesn't care if others hear.

Diluc: Makes love. He has no time for sex if it's not with the love of his life. Doing it with him is a ceremony to remember. Expect long sessions full of kisses, heartwarming confessions, and body worshipping.

Bf: Accurate. Total gentleman. He only makes love. And possibly the first time you do it he will propose to you the morning after.

Childe: Fucks. He is all in for the adrenaline and pleasure in life, whether it's battle or it's lust. He wants to dive in and feel as much as he can,the more intense and dangerous, the better.

Bf: A fucking degenerate. He loves violence and competition and if he doesn't get it in sex then he's not interested. More of a masochist than a sadist, don't be surprised if you fight him and he ends up insinuating sexually to you. Especially if you're winning the fight. He wants to get beaten up. To sum up, he has a very weird way of "making love"...

Xiao: Makes love. To him, it's something sacred that should be shared with the people you love and respect the most. Will worship every inch of your body and be desperate to convey his feelings to you. Will focus completely on your pleasure, so make sure to calm him down and reward him a bit too!

Bf: Turbo virgin who self cock blocks all the time. He is always afraid: of hurting you, of making you uncomfortable, of saying something wrong, of looking at the wrong place...If you moan he asks you if you're okay. He gets soft all the time because he is afraid of hurting you. He has suicidal thoughts half the encounter. But yeah he makes love.

Albedo: Who knows, really. He's still studying what's the difference between the two. And he sure is doing an experiment and carefully studying it when he has sex with you. To be perfectly clear, he loves you, but this whole thing about sex and human relationships is new to him so he's trying to understand all these new feelings. 

Bf: "Making love? Fucking? What is that? I'm the chalkman." Doesnt have a dick and if he had, he is not interested in human relationships at all. But if you manage to fuck him he would be writing down notes about it the whole time.

Scaramouche: Fucks because he thinks giving in to love will make him weak.💔

Bf: Fucks and he only thinks about his mommy issues while doing it. He only fucks to dissociate. And if you treat him with basic human kindness he will start seeing you as a maternal figure so be careful.

Wanderer: Now understands that lying about his feelings is the true form of weakness and doesn't want to waste a single more second of life, he makes love to you making sure he makes crystal clear how he feels about you: in the most explicit, toe-curling, fluid dropping way he can. If you like it hard, prepare to be smacked until you can't sit the following day.

Bf: He's gone to therapy so the mommy issues are better but he's still annoying af. He plays hard to get and pretends not to be committed but the truth is he's just being tsundere and hiding the fact that he is eating from the palm of your hand.

Kazuha: Makes the finest comfiest love in the world. Fucks like a horndog when he's drunk or high but won't stop telling you how crazily he loves you while doing it.

Bf: He is high af the vast majority of the time and during sex, it's no exception. If you manage to fuck him sober he will be the super reflexive and emotional type that cries during sex. But he fucks you lovely but won't make love to you, he only makes love with the love of his life Tomo, the rest of you are his cattle. He's a super friendly guy so after sex he will share his weed with you.

Gorou: He's a gentleman who wants to become good at making love but is extremely shy and gets flustered easily so he fucks sloppily. An adorable sight to behold!

Bf: I agree he is a little gentleman.

Tighnari: Makes love. Except when he's in heat. Then you have to be prepared if you wanna handle him. 

Bf: another stoner. He would experiments with aphrodisiacs all the time, makimg them into weird salts or sth.

Cyno: Very similar to his jokes. He's completely sure he's giving his best at making love to you or Tighnari and showing you his devotion, but his poker face, stoic manners, and scary appearance make him look like he's angry fucking you. He doesn't get what he's doing wrong and doesn't do it on purpose. But it doesn't matter since you know him very well and not only are you used to his antics but you also have become sensitive to his very subtle changes of expression.

Bf: He can't help bit to tell bad jokes when he fucks. Self cockblocks himself all the time: either he goes soft in the middle of the act because he's laughing at his own jokes or he makes so cringy jokes that his partner gets uncomfortable and leaves. He can't help it, if he doesn't get them our he will explode.

Itto: Fucks wildly but it's his way of making love. He is just too brute to control the size and strength of his body, especially when he is under the effect of the feral feelings he has for you. 

He loves you so much he can't help but to pick you up like you're a potato sack and swirl you in the air like you are a rag doll and take you with him everywhere. When he hugs you he leaves you breathless, when he kisses you he leaves you all sloppy and when he fucks you…well he leaves you sore for weeks but let's say it's totally worth it!

Bf: totally disagree! It would be so hard to fuck him, he would be clueless and friend zone or family zone you all the time. If you tell him you wanna be more than friends he would say "Superfriends??" With the biggest smile. And if you manage to fuck him he would be super careful, he knows he is a brute and is scared of hurting you.

Thoma: Makes super lovey-dovey love. Always double-checks if you're comfortable and enjoying the experience. Knowing he's making you feel good makes him glad and arouses him so don't be shy and tell him if he's doing it well!

Bf: nononono, absolutely wrong, you're blinded by his looks. He is a degenerate masochist and he only fucks Ayato. They have this weird dynamic where he literally acts as his dog.

Ayato: Another one who depends on the partner and situation. Honestly, he's so overworked that he desperately needs a good fuck. Ok maybe many of them. But not only he doesn't have the time, but also he can't be seen sleeping around due to his political position, so probably he'll only get to have sex when he finally finds the person he wants to marry. He hopes to be able to marry someone he actually loves instead of marrying for political reasons. So if you're the lucky one, expect heated sessions of lovemaking from this touch-starved man! Also, he'll love you but that doesn't mean he's gonna stop being a merciless tease 👀

Bf: Degenerate sadist who only has eyes for Thoma and makes him go through so much weird stuff they don't even remember what is to have normal sex. Tying him up and putting him on a leash is the most normal thing out of what they do.

Kaeya: Fucks. He lives for the spectacle and the mystique of it. Also, he's super popular around Mondstadt and wherever he goes so he sleeps around a lot. He has tons of admirers from both sexes and he makes sure to reward their love and devotion. He knows exactly how to please people, how to exacerbate his natural beauty and how to leave them crazy for him. He's simply so erotically natured. Probably the most experienced guy you know in the field. 

Bf: Agree. Turbo slut. No more comments needed. If he manages to open his heart he can be sensitive. But that only happened once and it was with his own reflection in a mirror.

Heizou: Fucks lovingly 💕 He loves teasing and making his partner flustered. People and relationships are simply so fun and fascinating to him. And when he gets to be sexually intimate with someone it's even better! If you end up involved with him, be prepared to be taken to your limits.

Bf: Another degenerate. Probably makes you pretend you're a criminal to chase you around town. Pretty sadistic and I can imagine him having yandere tendencies. A cool guy though. When he is not horny.

Al Haitam: Zero interested in the matter. Until he met you. He is learning everything from scratch and even though he's always been a fast learner in everything, this subject is particularly hard since he needs to stop rationalizing and let his feelings take control for once. But his feelings for you are pretty intense, so little by little he is learning how to make love to you 💚

Bf: I imagine him as a turbo aspirator 3000. He would suck your soul out of your genitals. If you manage him to make him interested in sex, which is highly unlikely because he is like 0 interested in any kind of human contact. I picture him having sex with Kaveh and Kaveh would be a pillow princess and Haitham despite being the kind of guy who always sits down and just reads books he would be restless in bed, doing all the job and moving him around.

Kaveh: Another sweet-sweet love guy! He'll make sure to treat you like a princess and spoil you rotten in and out of the bedroom. He'll do the corniest expressions of chivalry but please bear with him, it genuinely comes from his heart. But if you want to see a more sloppy and wrecked side of him, you can always seduce him after he goes to the bar…

Bf: Sassy pillow princess. Or prince? Idk how to say it. He doesn't do anything but he will be all the time criticizing or praising what you do like a talent show judge. "Come on? Is it the first time you suck a cock or what?" You can imagine this kind of behavior is what infuriates Al Haitham and motivates him to go feral and fuck him around the whole house until he shuts the fuck up.

BONUS: This is an old draft but now that Neuvillete and Wriostheley are out, we couldn't let them out! So for this, we are interchanging roles, my bf will give you his headcanons and I will comment!

Bf: I'm 100% sure both Neuvie and Wriot are completely opposite in bed from their personalities in public. Our chivalrous and calm Neuvie is a pasional beast in bed. He is unsatiable, he is a dragon after all. Gives me the same vibes as Zhong Li who acts super calm but when fucking Childe he destroys 3 hotel rooms every night (exactly the type Childe loves. He got a crush on him when he struck him down at Fontaine's court. I'm sure Zhong Li will get jealous when he finds out and we will have some dragon drama going on) Back to Neuvie, he is super feral but he doesn't fuck, he makes love. It's his draconic way of making love. He is also very emotional and if he likes you, after having sex and having calmed down, he will open his wallet and start showing you the pictures of his 300 Melusine daughters and tell you their names and each of their jobs. He is a very proud dad.

Wriothesley loves you from a distance. While you fuck he is super sweet and loving, but during everyday life, he sucks at showing his feelings. He reminds me of the dad of Komi San, super silent but full of love. He communicates through glances (like a dog). Everyone thinks he is a bad boy but he's a super sentimental guy (won't admit it though) If you give him a gift he will treasure it forever and if someone breaks it or steals it from him he will beat them up.

One of his phrases would be "If something happens to my schmoochpsiepups I will kill everyone in Teyvat and then myself," and when he messes up with you for being unable to show his emotions he goes to a karaoke and sings "Baka Mitai" all depressed. He has 0 emotional intelligence and would go there often, crying "Oh, I wanted to tell Y/N how much I love them before they went away and I just groaned 'hmmm' AGAIN 😭😭".

YET ANOTHER BONUS: If Neuvillete and Wriothesley were in a romantic relationship, I'm sure Neuvie would tell him about all of his Melusine daughters. Wriot would act all cold and as if he didn't care but in fact he remembers all their names and thinks about them as his adoptive daughters. Don't be surprised if you walk down the street and see a Melusine falling down and he rescues her and goes to buy her an ice cream cone. He is a proud dad too.

Me: I have no comments. I agree with everything. And Wriot singing Baka Mitai would be amazing, he has the voice of Jotaro and Erwin after all.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Wow this post was longer than intended. AND ONLY NOW I realize we left Lyney and Zhong Li out. I guess bc to me Lyney is kinda teen coded? I feel like they wasted so much husband material making him look so young. I've seen the fandom drawing him as an adult and he looks so hansome. And both my bf and I rambled about Zhong Li but we forgot to include an entry for him 😂 He says it's ok because he's tied to Tartaglia and we spoke about him in Tartaglia's section 😂 God we are a disaster. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the post, whether you found the headcanons hot or my bf's comments funny. He is scared of getting cancelled though 😂

[genericpuff]

hey gen p! i was reading a post of yours where you mentioned LO's age rating and briefly mentioned that minthe was verbally abusive during sex which surprised me bc i didnt really remember her being accused of doing so outside of the slap/havent come across any other accusation since, so i've been defending her against abuse allegations, maybe mistakenly, bc i stopped reading the comic at some point. is it too much to ask for some instances where she *was* abusive so i can correct my outlook?? thx! :3

oh so it's really just one scene and it's waaay back in Episode 8-

like i'm gonna assume this isn't a consensual kink play thing LOL but also like. I wanna make it clear also that people don't necessarily defend Minthe as not being abusive, many people who defend her are well aware that she's done abusive shit. They defend Minthe because 1.) she has a lot more potential for well-written character development than Hades and Persephone (as she's actually genuinely flawed as per the narrative vs. Hades and Persephone who are flawed but we're still expected to believe they're perfect, so unlike H x P Minthe actually has potential to do better and grow like characters should!) and 2.) a lot of Minthe's abuse towards Hades isn't necessarily justified but is a lot more understandable when you really analyze Hades and realize that he is, in fact, a piece of shit LOL

like don't get me wrong, I don't think Minthe was in the right by treating Hades like shit and escalating it to the slap, there are FAR better things she should have done... but I and many others defend her on the basis that she doesn't have the self-respect or resources necessary to look out for herself in a more productive way, much of which was facilitated by Hades trapping her in a financially abusive relationship. When you're worried not only about losing your partner, but also your house and your job with it, that's gonna turn into some unhealthy coping mechanisms and responses like physical and verbal abuse as we see in Minthe. She's someone who's not in control of her situation but is trying to maintain her control through unhealthy means.

Hades, on the flipside, has no excuse when he assaults people or acts like an asshole - he's just able to get away with it through the narrative, its characters, and the readers, because he's the rich and powerful main protagonist.

Minthe is an incredibly flawed person who was self-aware enough to understand what she was doing wasn't right but not equipped enough to do better. She's lower class (according to Rachel, all the nymphs are considered lower class compared to the gods) and was originally written as someone with untreated BPD, which Rachel later retconned (note: the episode where Minthe slaps Hades is literally called Splitting, which is a symptom of BPD, like it's not some assumption or misinterpretation, Rachel literally wrote BPD into the script and then tried to quietly backpedal on it later through Discord.) Hades is an incredibly flawed person who is self-aware of what he's doing, but doesn't see it as wrong and therefore doesn't see any reason to do better. But we're expected to root against the former as an irredeemable villain who can't do better and root for the latter who is an actual monster whose actions are justified and excused by the narrative and its creator.

So yeah, that's why a lot of us defend Minthe. She's not perfect, she's done abusive shit, but unlike Hades and Persephone, she has the capacity to grow and change for the better.

[squigglewigglewoo]

(✧) warnings: sexual content, rough sex, choking, oral (fem receiving), breeding kink(?), jealous sex, biting, marks, hickeys, manhandling, semi public sex, fingering, these men are mean, suicides mentioned once (it's dazai, what did you expect), possible objectification, thigh riding, degradation, dacryphilia, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, name calling, overstimulation, drinking, no dick for y'all today, afab reader, no pronouns used, pretty girl and good girl used like once, entirely not proof read. tell me if I missed anything. MDNI 18+ NSFW bellow the cut!

(✦) summary: what happens when someone gets just a little too touchy feely when they're around? 1283 words~

(✧) (a/n): this is entirely self indulgent, wrote it at midnight within an hour and edited it once I woke up, so I apologize is it didn't make much sense. lost my train of thought when it came tho fyodor so his part might be shorter than the others.

(✦) pairings: chuuya x fem!reader, dazai x fem!reader, fyodor x fem!reader, mentions of nikolai x reader. no uses of pronouns.

(✧) listening to~ fan behavior by Isaac Dunbar

chuuyas hands were on you the moment you two set foot in your shared penthouse, the gingers hands slipping to the back of your thighs as he throwing you into the bed, his coat and hat half hazardly discarded along the way, your heels thrown onto the ground as his hands slide your dresses skirt up. his gloved ginger traces over the crotch of your panties, the cloth already damp with your slick from your arousal, earning a mean chuckle from him as his finger flicked over your clothed clit. you felt almost ashamed to admit you found it attractive, the way he was near silent as he toyed with you, a cross between a smirk and a scowl on his face as he watched you squirm. "oh? so wet already? and yet you were talking to him while I was gone, hmm? what are you, some common street whore looking to be filled?" god, how could you have forgotten the reason you where in this position in the first place? being left alone as chuuya went to get another drink, only for the executive return to find his seat filled by the one and only dazai osamu, the brunette happily chatting away, one of your hands between his bandaged ones as you giggled, laughing at whatever nonsense the suicidal maniac spewed. oh, how you wanted to desperately whine and explain that you didn't even know the man, that he had just sat down and didn't listen when you said you already had someone, that your boyfriend would come back any minute. your desperate, babbled attempts to get out words is cut short as the man moves your lace panties to the side, shoving a finger inside you while his thumb rubbed lose and painfully light circles on your pearl, just enough to make your breath hitch, but not enough to be satisfactory. when had he taken off his glove? your thighs clamp shut around his hand, only earning a tsk from chuuya as his, still gloved, free hand spread your legs apart, so far it was painful, muscles burning and aching to rest. "oh? y'wanna cum? to bad, only good girls get to cum." his skilled fingers curl into you, just grazing over the spot that makes you see stars, making you claw and bed for him to please, pretty please stop being so mean and just fuck you already. he only laughs, his hand tightening its grasp on your thigh tighter as he leans over to ghost kisses along your neck, his voice quiet but rough, another finger slipping into your sopping cunt, curling and earning a breath moan from you. "not yet, doll. I'll fuck you when you remember who this pussy belongs to, yeah? or am I gonna have fuck you pregnant to make you remember? god, you'd look to beautiful like that though, everyone would know who you belong to, then."

dazais slender, bandaged hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you away from the bar where you had sat all pretty, innocently talking to the barkeep, the man flirting with you while you where completely oblivious to it, or plain ignoring it. you let him guide you, a soft "ah-? 'samu? are you alright?" falling from your lips as he pulled you into the bars bathroom, locking the door before picking you up and pushing you onto the sinks counter. the brunette fell to his knees infront of you, uncharacteristically quiet ad he unbuttoned your slacks, eyes wide as he shimmied them to fall to the ground, onto of your shoes, your underwear following lead and hanging from your ankle untill he pulled them off and stuffed them in his coat pocket, hooking your legs over his shoulders as his hands gripped at the juncture between your hips and thighs, squeezing softly as he laps experimentally over your wet folds. he watches you squirm, one hand covering your mouth to muffle the breathy gasp, thighs trembling and threatening to close around his head. "god.. you taste so good, sweetheart, all f'me." his gaze flickers upwards, a teasing smirk overtaking his lips before he pulls away from your pussy, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, sucking and biting marks into the skin. soft whines and whimpers turn into mewls and quiet moans, sounds growing in volume as you slowly forget that your still in the bar. "shh.. wouldn't want someone to hear you, now would you?" punctuating his sentence with a bite to your inner thigh, his lips move to wrap around your clit, one hand moving from the fat of your thigh to slip into your gummy walls, curling and scissoring almost immediately. the pleasure near overwhelming as your thighs clamp around his head, one of your hands threading into his hair and pulling slightly as loud, muffled moans fall from your lips, your eyes shut as his other hand squeezes your thigh, nails digging into your skin. you tremble as your orgasm washes over you, dazai still eating you out like a starved man, licking up your release untill you weakly pull him away from your cunt by his hair, the man licking his lips as he stands between your legs, hands on your hips as he kisses you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, a soft mewl being pulled from you as he pulls away, burring his face Into you neck as he murmurs. "don't you think you taste good, pretty girl? thats something only I will ever taste, it's all f'me, that pesky barkeep will never even get close to touching you. you're mine, baby, you understand that?"

the cold hands on your hips rock you back and fourth, making you grind against fyodors thin thigh as you whimper and whine out "'m sorry"s for something you dont even know your apologizing for, tears bubbling in your eyes as your hands weakly grab onto his shirt. "oh? you're sorry? you didn't seem sorry when you were dancing with nikolai, now did you, you little tramp? all giggly as his hands roamed your body and spun you around as if you aren't mine to love, to hold, not his." fyodors hands tighten their grasp, near bruising in strength as his lithe fingers dig into the plush flesh on your hips, making the pace quicker and the pressure against your clit harder. the fabric of his pant leg is damp, the color deeper in saturation where your slick drips down, the material brushing against your clit and drawing soft gasps from you. your head falls, resting on his shoulder as you whimper and whine, hips bucking slightly rougher against him untill he holds you completely still, taking away every ounce of pleasure you had once had. "tsk.. I thought you would behave, but it seems not. am I going have to fuck your manners back into you, мплая?¹" his tone is harsh, mocking even, that sly smirk on his face as he tilts your head up to look at him, hand moving from your chin to your throat, squeezing lightly. the action pulls a soft squeak from you, the noise being swallowed as he kisses you, and you can't help but rock your hips against his thigh once more. though this time, he lets you, the hand that was on your hip moving to rub tight, quick circles along your clit. he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, his breath ghosting over your face as your eyes flutter open, looking up at him with a near pleading gaze. "oh? what a needy little thing you are. well go on. get yourself off on my thigh. little sluts like you don't deserve to get fucked."

Masterlist!

¹darling

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[wolfjackle-creates]

Please tell me that with 'Johnny and Kitty pocess Superman and Batman' That they are either on a date or go on a date after a fight? Please this needs to happen

@britcision also asked about this one!

So I was looking through what I wrote of this and...it's not that good. It's based on a prompt from back in Nov 2022 and I was still figuring things out back then and needed to rewrite everything I wrote at least once. It's less crack than you'd expect from the title, I'm afraid.

So I'm gonna do part of that rewrite. Because I'm insane and don't have self control. 🤣

Anyway, the prompt is from @zeestarfishalien and can be found here. Oddly it doesn't have half as many notes as I remember it having. Huh. Guess I thought it had more because I latched onto it so strongly.

Anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

"Danny!" yelled Jazz from downstairs.

Danny froze for just a moment. That was Jazz's something-is-wrong voice. He dropped through the floor to get to her that much quicker. "What happened?" he demanded.

She just pointed to the TV where a news reporter was standing in a city. Behind her, Batman stood next to the open driver's side door to the batmobile while Superman floated in the air a few feet away with his arms crossed.

"Don't look at me like that, baby," said Batman.

"I will look at you however the hell I want. You forgot our date, asshole!" yelled Superman back.

The reporter grinned at the camera. "Looks like quite the lover's tiff we've stumbled upon! Who would have ever suspected Batman and Superman of being in a relationship?"

Behind her, Superman used his heat vision to shoot at Batman who cursed loudly before jumping into his car and speeding off. Superman huffed and flew in the opposite direction. Jazz muted the TV while the reporter continued making speculations about Batman and Superman's relationship. Danny stared at Jazz in horror.

"That was—"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it was."

Danny closed his eyes and thought about the half finished essay he had upstairs and the history test he had the next day and how his parents would be home in an hour. He wanted to cry.

"I have to go to Gotham."

"I'll take care of our parents. Have you had the flu yet this year?"

Danny's laugh had a hysterical edge to it. "Tuck's been keeping track of my excuses. Ask him. I'll just��" Danny let the sentence trail as he transformed and flew out of the house without another word.

Even flying as fast as he could, he didn't arrive in Gotham until night had fallen. He tried to sense Johnny or Kitty or listen for the chaos that always followed them, but the city was so big.

After over half an hour of searching with no luck, Danny was sitting on a roof with his head buried in his knees trying not to cry. He only had so many hours before he had to be back in Amity for school. If he missed any more days, he'd get a suspension and his parents would be livid.

Just then, the clock tower chimed ten. Danny lifted his head to look at the tall building, one of the tallest in the city. He might not have any idea how to find Batman, but surely the other heroes would. Maybe he could get their attention?

In a matter of minutes, he was floating above the clock tower. With a deep breath, he shot an ectoblast up into the sky. Two minutes later, he repeated the action.

Not long after his fifth blast, two grapple hooks attached to the tower near his feet and seconds later he was facing Batman and Robin.

Danny immediately fell into a fighting stance. "Johnny, I'm not going to let you get away with this. Get out of him. Now."

But instead of calling him a do-gooder nerd, Batman pulled out a batarang and held it ready to throw. "I'm not this Johnny," he growled.

Danny relaxed and sighed in relief. "Oh thank the ancients, you got him out. I'm so, so sorry, Batman! I know you and the Justice League are relying on me to keep the ghosts from escaping Amity. Johnny and Kitty must’ve gotten past me. How'd you get Johnny out? Were you able to help Superman? Kitty is at least reasonable most of the time so I hope she didn't give you any trouble. Where are they now? I'll just collect them and bring them back to the Realms."

Robin pulled out his sword and pointed it at Danny. "What do you know of Fa— Batman's condition? Who is this 'Johnny' you speak of?"

Danny's core stuttered in his chest. The kid couldn't mean… He looked past the blade pointed at him towards Batman. "You… aren't Batman. Are you? You're covering for him while Johnny is overshadowing the real one."

Batman put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Lower the sword, Robin." To Danny, he said, "I think you owe us some explanations."

Danny buried his head in his hands and tried to bite back the tears. He was so tired. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. They got past me and I failed. I'm so sorry."

“Desist with your groveling and explain!” ordered Robin.

“Right, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” Danny looked up, but the stars were hidden behind smog and lights. He sighed. “I’m Phantom, of course. Responsible for monitoring the portal in Amity and keeping ghosts from coming through and causing problems on Earth. Also for stopping human hunters from hurting any ghosts. Johnny and Kitty, two ghosts, must have gotten past me. I’m careful, I swear. We set up an alarm on the portal so I know the moment someone comes through, but I missed them somehow. I…maybe they came through at the same time as someone else? I’ve had to deal with Skulker and Boxy so far this week. And Queen Dora came for a visit and one of Pandora’s people stopped by to drop something off. So if Johnny and Kitty came through at the same time… Pariah curse it, I should’ve realized. What a stupid design flaw. I’ll be working on a fix for that as soon as I get out of school tomorrow. I’d do it sooner, but I’ve a test you see. And if I miss any more class, I’ll get a suspension, and then my parents really will kill me again.”

Danny winced when he saw Robin’s fingers twitch towards his sword again. “Sorry! No more excuses. It’ll be fixed ASAP, promise. Um, Johnny is generally into motorcycles, but I think he saw the Batmobile and wanted to take it for a ride so he overshadowed Batman. From what I saw on the news, he blew off a date with Kitty to do it so she’s pissed and followed him and ended up overshadowing Superman. Probably so she could use his powers on top of her own to punish Johnny.” He trailed off and waited for the yelling to start.

But they were silent.

Danny shifted from foot to foot. “Again, I’m really sorry. I know you rely on me to keep this from happening and I swear it won’t again. But if you tell me where you think Batman is, I’ll go retrieve Johnny. Same with Superman and Kitty. I need to get this wrapped up by four, maybe four thirty, so I can get home in time for school to start.” He couldn’t hold back a yawn. He just wanted to sleep.

Batman and Robin exchanged a glance and Batman put away his weapon. “I’ve never heard of you or this Amity before. You’re a kid, who is your Justice League mentor? Why aren’t they here?”

“I… What? Justice League mentor? What are you talking about? All of my mentors are ghosts.”

Robin snorted. “Who informed you that it was your responsibility to monitor this portal that allows these ghosts to invade? Why are you the only one preventing attacks such as this?”

Danny bristled. “I’m not alone! Sam and Tucker and my sister help me!”

“Are they kids like you?” asked Batman.

“If by like me you mean ghosts, of course not. They’re fully alive. I’m the only ghost of the group.”

“No,” said Batman after a pause. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to know if they were teenagers who still go to school like you or if they were adults you worked with.”

Danny shrugged. “Jazz is starting college next year, but yeah. They’re my friends.”

Batman let out a long breath. “Right. And why do you think the Justice League is expecting you, specifically, to monitor this portal?”

Danny threw up his hands. “Because you told me that!” He saw Batman open his mouth to say something and quickly added, “Not you specifically, but, like, the League. This guy Constantine came by a month or two after the portal opened and saw me and relaxed. Said he was glad to see I was already handling things there. Gave me a number and laughed and said if anyone could handle the situation, it’d be me, but I could call if I needed back up.” He shrugged. “And he was right. So far I have been able to handle it. This is an exception and I’ll get it fixed in a few hours tops.”

Robin ground his teeth. “That lazy magician.”

Batman also muttered something under his breath. “Thank you, Phantom. For doing so much on your own. If you tell us how to free Batman and Superman, we can handle it from here.”

“What?” Danny shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? You need specialized weapons that I don’t have on me and containment devices and access to a portal to the Realms to get rid of them. Seriously, I can get this taken care of. Just tell me where Batman is.”

Batman sighed again. “We don’t have much of a choice. Fine. But will you be able to get us these weapons and containment devices if we requested some of you? We’ll pay you, of course. And we’d like more details on what you’ve been dealing with. I’m afraid Constantine… did not share the details of your dealings with the rest of us.”

“Yeah, sure. The weapons are made by Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton of FentonWorks, based out of Amity Park, Illinois. Their son Danny can help you pick out the most useful ones. Some are more torture device than anything, though, so definitely avoid those. Danny will be able to tell you the difference.”

Batman nodded once, jaw clenched. “Thank you. Now, I’ve just gotten an update on the possessed Batman’s location. Follow us.”

-----

Dick is pretending to be Batman here. If they have a "normal" batman out, then they can show the possessed batman is an imposter.

I saw some debate on the original over whether Johnny would possess Batman or Superman. To me, the answer was obvious. He'd possess Batman because he wanted to take the Batmobile for a spin.

Meanwhile, Kitty is the smart one. She'd go for Superman because then she could use his powers and her own to 1) punish Johnny and 2) prevent anyone from stopping them.

Regarding Constantine: He made an oops, but it's not (fully) his fault. Due to time missions from Clockwork, Phantom is shown to be thousands of years old and is known for fantastic feats. If Constantine had known this was some fourteen year old newly dead kid, he'd have acted differently. Instead, he thinks Danny is older than he is with millenia of experience.

This is free for anyone to continue!

[peachy-puddin-cup]

“She Still Is.” Moonflower Fic

Under the cut is a small Moonflower fic I wrote about Macaque taking Suki under the falls to see the ruins of the old stone palace, with a bonus sketch of the last moment by the pookie @aleiiii 💜

Enjoy!

“Macaque..Are we supposed to be here?” Suki asks as they walk in through the tunnel, leading to the ruins of the old stone palace.

The shadow monkey shrugs. “Probably not.” He yawned as he lead her in.

“This place looks so old..like really old..this Wukong’s old place?” She blinks.

“Yeah sorta kinda..” It was lore anyone would know about the monkey king had they just known that story, but it wasn’t just his home..it was their home. Not that she would have remembered.

“These stones are so smooth.” Suki whispered to herself, feeling the texture of the broken slabs of stone that once rose dozens of feet to sculpt high walls.

“Hm yeah they were.” Macaque shrugs.

Why did you bring her here you idiot!? If Wukong comes around you two are gonna fight and she’s gonna get upset. he thought to himself as he wondered around, but he couldn’t sense Wukong anywhere around here thankfully.

Suki continued to wander further into the structure that had not yet collapse.

“Hey wait up!” Macaque huffed as she wandered further.

“Oh my..” She whispered as she looked over the walls with faded murals.

“Oh..” Macaque mumbled to himself. This room.

Suki stopped at a small section of wall that was mostly covered in vines that she had to pull away to see what was there. “…Oh wow..she’s beautiful.” She whispered as she gazed at the portrait before her.

Macaque glanced over to where she had gone and he let out a soft sigh. The mural she was staring at was her..or at least what used to be her.

“Isn’t she beautiful..?” Suki glanced back to Macaque with a sparkling smile and a wag of her tail.

“Yeah..She was.” His gaze softened to her as he got closer to look at the mural, seeing how the colors had faded with weathering and sunlight. His gaze rested on her, marveling at the mural of her past self.

She still is. he smiled to himself.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven. 

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy.  And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention. 

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor. 

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart. 

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities. 

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE. 

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul. 

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.   

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.  

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.” 

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you. 

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this? 

[neverchecking]

NSFW Alphabet- Wild Edition

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At the start, he's...not the best. But-BUT, hear me out, he learns. He's such a good learner and he's quick at learning things too. You could mention something offhandedly during... fucking lunch or something and he's remembering it for the next time you have sex. So while it takes time, he does eventually become a king at aftercare. Massaging muscles, lotion-ing bodies, helping Reader to the bathroom, etc...

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His partner? Everything. All of it. Anything Reader is willing to bless him with he's all over. But if he had to chose? Their tummy honestly. It's a sign of their health to him. If it has a little chub? His favorite. It means he's doing his job and their eating well. Their remaining safe and healthy and happy. And he loves just holding it and anchoring his hands there.

On him? ...His hands. I know I said this with Twilight (Lmao I wrote Twilight's before Wilds), but Wild likes his hands too. They're talented. They have to be. With his knife skills, and his rock climbing and whatever else, he has strong fingers. And he knows how to use them. If it makes his partner happy, he's happy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Oh, he loves painting his partner's chest and stomach in his cum. Watching the ropes paint their skin a pretty white while bliss makes their gaze loopy and blank drives him absolutely nuts, probably making him hard all over again as he's pouncing once more to do it all over again.

He'll never say no to giving you his own personal pie though. I'm so sorry for that I hate myself lmao /s

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would love if you pegged him while he was wearing the Vai outfit. Lay him down and take it slow? Lace kisses up and down his scarred body? Take your sweet time with him and ensure his own pleasure no matter what while taking him apart? All of it. He wants all of it. He wants to feel you, hold you, let you take charge so he can let his guard down for once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Nope. Clueless. If he had sex before dying, he forgot. He considered himself a virgin when you two met and says he lost it to you when asked. Maybe he had sex before he died, but fuck if he knows. He only knows you.

And he loves learning with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is a toughie because he is so erratic as a character. Somedays he probably loves you ass down face up, others he just needs missionary. Depends on his mood and how the day is going/went.

But his ultimate favorite is probably the pretzel dip. Having you on your side with one of his legs hooked over your bottom leg is perfect in every way. He gets that intimacy that comes with eye contact, and he gets all the benefits of doggy style. It has that special place in his heart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely lets out a few jokes and quips. It relaxes him, it relaxes his partner. He sees it as a win-win. He loves making things as effortless as possible for both parties, and if that does it, so be it. Plus he loves his lover's laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oddly enough, yeah, I think he's pretty well groomed. It's a bush, but it's a controlled bush, yk? No. it's cleaned and groomed and trimmed. probably a little lighter than his normal hair color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be super romantic! Flowers, candles, soft words of praise. He can do the whole package. But he can also do everything else. He's a wild card, heh, in the sense that he can be whatever you need from him.

He does love those intimate nights of reestablishing your love for one another. Sure, you can have the bells and whistles that come with kinks and toys and whatever else, but those nights where its just you and him and the love between you two manifesting itself into this act are always going to be some of his favorites.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to do it every once in a while. Not often, but when the nights got a little too lonely he would take the twenty minutes to rub one out. It de-stressed him and got his muscles relaxed enough for him to take a breather for an hour. After meeting you? It's so incredibly rare. He loves just having you there because not only does the release relax him, but so does your presence alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely likes cuffing his lover's hands together with metal bracelets and using magnesis to hold them up. Or using just a bit of Cryonis to cultivate small ice cubes that leave shiny tails along your body. Or maybe he's uses stasis to freeze you place while he does whatever he wants with you? Hard to choose really.

For sure has a exhibitionist kink though. He loves the thrill of almost getting caught. Makes him feel alive.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he can get his hands on you. If it has reasonable privacy and you guys have twenty minutes, he's taking you then and there. His favorite place is probably his own home. Or in an alley in Gerudo? Maybe behind a rock formation in Eldin? Perhaps a cabin up in Hebra?

Maybe he can't pick a favorite afterall~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's kind of like Twilight in the sense of everything, but when there's something that gets the adrenaline pumping, he's especially ripping, ready to go. Especially if it's right after a near death experience. Those have him spitting out an excuse before pulling you out of ear shot and pinning you to the nearest tree while his body still thrums with the rush left over.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that comes even remotely close to non-consensual play. Like consensual non-consent? He fucking hates it. He hates the idea that he could ever be capable of hurting you in such a way. It eats at him and he fucking refuses to do anything that bares any resemblance to that. He needs clear, verbal consent to any and everything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Also a giver! He loves hooking your legs over his shoulders as you lean against a tree, fingers threading in his hair. Or slipping between you and the counter you lean onto for support pulling your hips in time with his tongue. Or simply letting you use his mouth as your own personal toy <3

When it comes to receiving, he is the biggest whiner. He doesn't have the patience for teasing, so he's constantly bucking his hips, and he doesn't keep quiet doing so either. He's begging and pleading for more, all while whimpering out your name. If he gets especially desperate, he may forgo your pace and fuck your mouth instead.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Can do both. He likes the soft and sensual side, being reminded that he's worth something, but he also likes just ruining you and having you beneath him. Putting him in charge and trusting he knows how to deal with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. All the time. He's a busy man with a lot on his plate and if he can destress and restart with just a twenty minute break? He's doing it. Any chance he gets he's taking it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So down for any risks. He loves the idea of it all. Sucking his dick in an inn bathroom while a group of men walk past? He's biting his lips at the thought of them walking in to see you on your knees. He's going down on you behind some pasture while people bargain for horse equipment? Nearly cumming in his pants at the though. Anything his partner is up to, he's ready to follow.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

So many rounds. You cannot stop him by trying to exhaust him. It doesn't work like that. His lover either taps out or their going until the sun is shining down on them, lettings its rays cascade over their worn and tired bodies.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does. He's into all sorts of things and is always open to try something new. I don't know what the kink scene is like in Hryule, but Wild probably comes up with new things all on his own ;) Pretty silken ropes, or plugs made from shined and polished metal, maybe even a bar meant to keep his beloveds ankles spread just for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing. Winding up his partner tighter and tighter, waiting for them to snap, and watching with glee as their own frustrations build up. He's letting his touches linger and his words dip into a husky whisper against their ears, only to walk away right after, whistling a hearty tune.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He makes the prettiest noises. Loud and pretty and even when he tries to muffle them, he just can't. It's like it goes against his very soul to hide how good you make him feel from the world.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, so I know some people tag him a brat/ power bottom, and you're right, but I also like the idea of him just being this no nonsense dom. He's had a taste of being in total control of himself, and what he does, and loves it. From the bits he remembers, pre-Calamity, he wasn't happy. Not with his every move monitored and carefully dictated. So when his partner not only gives him control over himself, but also them?

He's drooling at the thought of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not overly girthy, pretty average in fact, but the length. 6.5 inches with a few veins running up the sides. The head is a darker red than the rest of his skin and he's surprisingly circumcised. (His dad was in the military as well, so it's probably a result of his dad following those strict guidelines.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. He's under a lot of stress okay? He needs something to let it out on. Plus, that alone with his energy reservoirs leads to him needing something pretty near constantly. He's normally able to push it back, but if you offered him whenever the urge hit you, he'd be up for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not for a while. Even after something like sex drains his energy, Wild has the innate need to ensure that his sweetheart is okay. He's watching them for a while, just making sure their chest is rising and falling the way it's supposed to. When fatigue does eventually tug at his bones, he's burrowing into their side and letting them hold him as he drifts to sleep, content their okay for the night.

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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[arliedraws]

One-Shot: Sirius falls through the Veil, ends up in 1981, and kidnaps his 21-year-old self

This is the silliest thing. Someone prompted me a month ago with “What if Sirius went back in time and kidnapped James to keep him safe?” And while this was a good prompt, I thought about the likelihood that he would kidnap his younger self. (Also, I think this is the prompt that got me thinking about HARRY going back to 1981—all these ideas are connected 😂). I think I meant to make this some sort of Sirius/Sirius incest (is it incest?), but I never got around to writing the smut, haha. Anyway, I wrote this about a month ago, and found it today. I realized I hadn’t finished it and threw on a few more words to sort of tie it up neatly (haha). I don’t think I’ll post it on AO3 so enjoy this tiny treat here!

When Sirius awoke, his cheek was pressed to the floor and his arms were bound behind him. An ache throbbed behind his eyes, and his mouth was dry. Groaning, he tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy. The ropes were hardly necessary—he wasn’t sure if he could have moved even if his arms and legs were free. It didn’t feel like the side-effects of a stunning spell—it was almost like he’d been drugged. 

He blinked. The room came into focus. 

It was his flat. The dirty floor belonged to him—the dusty television had been a gift from James, the sofa a hand-me-down from the Potters, and the rug a street-find. Sirius listened carefully. Someone was in the kitchen. Sirius peered beneath the sofa to see a pair of boots moving around in the kitchen.

Inwardly, he swore. What had happened? He’d been in a scrap—he remembered that. There were three Death Eaters—Rosier, Wilkes, and some other one he couldn’t recognize by voice alone—who had tripped his alarm in Hogsmeade. He’d leapt into action before they could do any serious damage. There was a fight; they were swift but he was faster, and then he remembered their sudden flight, their masked faces disappearing before he could capture one of them. This enraged him. He reported it to Moody, and Moody told him to go home and rest. 

Sirius hadn’t gone home, however. He returned London and went to the pub.

It was coming back now: the pub, the man with the haunted eyes—the one who reminded him of his father, who had bought him a drink.

He drugged you.

Sirius was trying to remember when it must have happened. When Sirius arrived at the pub, it was relatively busy, and he sat at the bar where he liked to flirt with whoever was slinging pints. It hadn’t been more than ten minutes before the man came in.

Not a bad looking bloke. A bit worn, a little thin in the face. A Muggle, he’d thought. He wore black jeans, boots, a cotton t-shirt, and brown leather jacket. Yet Sirius caught his gaze, and he felt something very strange. It was like the man could see every mistake he’d ever made in his life—as if he knew precisely who Sirius was.

Sirius was drawn to him, and he was glad when the man asked if he could join him. They spoke blandly for a few minutes, yet there was an undercurrent of electricity between them that thrummed beneath his skin. The man asked rather boring questions—was he from London? Did he have a girlfriend? Where did he go to school? Sirius had come up with alter egos dozens of times, and providing this Muggle with rubbish answers came easily.

“How old are you?” the man wondered.

“Almost twenty-two,” Sirius responded honestly. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

Sirius wasn’t sure if that surprised him or made perfect sense. He had placed this man anywhere between thirty and middle-aged because the man did not look very old but carried a particular gravitas that only people of a certain age could bear. 

“What are you looking for?” Sirius asked. “Someone younger?”

“No. I was looking for you.”

Sirius grinned. “Oh yeah? How’d you know I’d be here?”

Yet the man only looked at him a bit sadly, and the grin slipped from Sirius’s face. The man glanced around to ensure they weren’t overheard before he leaned in, his haunted eyes flickering to the half-drunk beer on the bar.

“People like you aren’t so hard to predict,” he murmured. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing,” said Sirius. That was true. It had been a long time since he had looked for anything in particular—there were times when anyone would do, and there were others when he was so particular that he went home alone. 

The man drained the rest of his own pint and then took a swig of Sirius’s. 

“You come here alone often, don’t you?” said the man.

“I don’t usually leave alone.”

“Liar.”

Sirius took his glass back, not keen on letting the man drink the rest for him. There were only a few dregs left. 

“Why not? Reckon I’ve got a face only a mother could love?” said Sirius. He grimaced at his beer. The rest was a bit flat, and it had gone warm too. The man, however, caught the bartender’s eye and indicated they both needed another round.

The man shrugged. “If only she did.”

That rankled Sirius. “Do I know you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Sirius leaned against the bar, his head swimming. He couldn’t remember much else from then on, only bits and blurs as they continued to talk, the man pressing questions and Sirius feeling robotic as he responded, losing his grip as he watched the man watch him, those pale eyes so eerily familiar. He felt sluggish and stupid. The words tumbled from his mouth, and at some point, he felt the man tug on his arm and lead him from the pub. 

Now he was remembering—Sirius had been vaguely aware that the situation was not good. The man tugged him along when Sirius began to dig in his heels. No, he recalled thinking. No, I’m not right. Something’s wrong. 

“Don’t fight me now,” the man warned. “You were doing so well, Sirius.” 

“Who’re you?” Sirius slurred. His tongue wouldn’t move properly.

The man might have answered, but there was a whooshing in his ears. He could hardly see, and the man was pulling him through a door and up a flight of stairs. Sirius had reached into his pocket for his wand but couldn’t find it. The grip on his arm tightened and Sirius weakly fought back.

That was it—it was all he could remember. 

Sirius wriggled his fingers. His shoulders ached. How long had he been tied like this? 

“Awake, are you?” said the man from the kitchen.

Sirius remained silent.

The boots crossed from the kitchen, out of sight for a moment, and then came around the sofa. Sirius followed the movement, turning his head. He needed to sit up, not lie about with his chest pressed against the floor, but the ropes were too tight.

The man crouched beside him.

“How do you feel?”

“Did…did you...” He could hardly form the words. “Drug me?”

“Yes. Slipped it in when I took your drink. You didn’t notice a thing.”

“Why?” said Sirius, still feeling too sluggish to comprehend. His mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton. 

“You’ll learn soon enough,” said the man. “Just sit tight until the drowsiness wears off.”

“Why m’I on the floor?”

“You kept rolling off the sofa, and I got tired of putting you back.”

At least he had tried to fight back. 

The man hooked his hands in the rope, pulled until Sirius was upright, and set him against the sofa. Whatever fear Sirius felt a moment ago was trickling away, but he couldn’t understand why—this man held him against his will. Sirius had been drugged and bound and left on the floor of his flat. The man, however, looked at him with curiosity and pity—if this were the man to kill him, Sirius felt oddly at peace with it.

Strong fingers took his chin and turned his face. 

“Like what you see?” said Sirius dryly.

“You’re very handsome.”

“S’pose…s’pose you took advantage while I was drugged?”

A smile tugged on the man’s lips, drawing one corner into a soft smirk as he drew a finger from cheek to jaw. Sirius shivered. 

“No,” said the man. “Where’s the fun in that?”

An exhale hit Sirius’s face, carrying with it the stale smell of beer and whiskey. How long ago had they left the pub? The window was still dark, and the streetlamp cast its warm beam through the curtains.

He couldn’t think properly. Whatever poison the man had tipped into his drink, it had yet to leave his system, and it was every bit of strength he could muster to keep himself from keeling over sideways. 

“Muggle?” asked Sirius. The question fell out unformed. 

The man’s smile widened. “Are you asking if I’m a Muggle?”

“Are you?

“No.”

“What d’you want? Why’d you tie me up?”

“You tried to fight me.You might fall for a drugged drink, but you’re clever enough to know when to fight back. I also know how you duel, but we have important things to discuss, and I’d like to keep my limbs attached.”

“I can hardly move,” murmured Sirius, his head feeling heavy.

“Give it time. Are you thirsty?”

Sirius nodded slowly. The man stood and disappeared from view. Get out of these ropes! Do some blasted wandless magic, idiot! At least try to escape! Inhaling, Sirius closed his eyes. Wandless magic was exceedingly difficult even when his hands weren’t tied. Finite, he thought. Finite—Finite—!

The man chuckled as he returned.

“Don’t bother. You’re still drowsy, and you won’t get free without a wand.” 

Sirius opened his eyes as the man knelt before him. That face—it was uncannily familiar—almost like his father’s but younger. He looked like a Black, that was certain, but no one he knew. He held the rim of a glass to Sirius’s lips.

“Drink,” he said.

The relief of water coating his dry mouth staved off the humiliation, but only until a few drops dribbled down his chin. When the man pulled away, Sirius felt the weight of sleep tug on him. He didn’t know if it was whatever the man had slipped in his drink earlier or if he was simply exhausted, but he couldn’t stop himself from slumping forward, his face falling in against the man’s chest. 

The shirt smelled like cigarettes. They’d both been smoking at the pub, he recalled. A hand trailed through his hair, the nails scraping gently across his scalp, and Sirius couldn’t help a release of air from escaping his lungs. 

“What d’you want?” Sirius murmured. 

The man’s touch was loving in its gentleness, stroking him with care as if soothing a small child after a bad dream. Sirius closed his eyes. The drug this man had slipped in his drink made him lazy and compliant in a way that would terrify him if he were sober, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I’ve come to warn you,” the man said softly. “You’re about to be sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.”

“What’re you talking about?” His thoughts were so slow, so sluggish. 

“You really don’t suspect him at all, do you?”

Sirius groaned, sinking into the man’s hold. The voice was deep. It lulled him into pliability. The ropes weren’t necessary to keep him in place. All he could do was think about the hand in his hair. 

“Remus,” muttered Sirius.

The man scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Think, Sirius. Really think about it.”

“I—I dunno,” Sirius said. “What’d you give me, anyway?”

The man shoved him suddenly, and Sirius jerked awake. The man held him roughly by the ropes.

“Think, idiot,” he snapped. “You know exactly who I mean. You’re just too arrogant to consider he’s capable of betraying you lot.”

Sirius frowned. It was hard to remember his friends, let alone their names. James. Lily. Remus—

“Peter?” A laugh bubbled in his chest. “You think Peter’s got it in for us?”

Suddenly the man stood, clenching his fists and glowering down at Sirius. 

“Look at you,” the man said sneering. “Too conceited to think that anyone isn’t clever or charming could possibly outwit the great Sirius Black. Never stopped once to think that the little sycophant might turn around and stab you in the back. Never considered Peter would stop worshipping you long enough to whisper in Voldemort’s ear, did you?”

“Who are you?”

Yet as soon as the question fell clumsily from his mouth, it hovered between them, lingering like something ugly as if the truth were too obvious and too ridiculous to look at directly. Those pale eyes were so like Sirius’s. The man knew him—knew him too intimately, as if he’d crawled into his skin and lived as Sirius for a time. 

Sirius shut his eyes. No. No. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. 

“No…” Sirius moaned. “What’re you—what’ve you done?” He was slurring, but his mind was waking up. “You can’t do this—can’t change things—”

“Why not?” the man said mildly.

“Because…” Sirius let the 's' drag as he searched for an answer. “Because…you’re not supposed to change the past…”

“You know, I used to think the same thing,” admitted the man. “In fact, when I arrived here a few weeks ago, I did my best to stay hidden. I thought I could remain in the shadows—I’m good at that now—but I realized: I can’t go back. I don’t know how to go back. I think I must have died. I did try to return but there really is no way. So I thought, if I’ve been sent here, maybe I’m meant to stay.”

Sirius tore his eyes from the man’s face, understanding now that it was his own. The ropes were too tight. He tested them again. Was this future self here to kill him? Was he here to take over his body? 

Somehow, facing the man he would eventually become filled him with the sort of fear he should have felt when facing a fully-grown werewolf. The Sirius Black that towered over him was dangerous—perhaps even desperate. It had been wise of him to tie him up otherwise, Sirius would have killed him for being so stupid. He glowered up at the man.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the man said. “You’ve got no clue what the future looks like.”

Sirius sneered as his eyes flickered up and down the person who bore very little resemblance to himself. “I think I’ve got some idea. What do you want?”

“I only came here to warn you not to repeat my mistakes.”

“That can’t be all.”

The man shrugged. “Why not?”

“It’s selfish,” said Sirius. 

“A bit,” said the man. “But it’s not really about me—or us, rather. Although I don’t wish my past to become your future, your decisions in the coming weeks will destroy more lives than your own. By November, James and Lily will be dead, and Harry will be sent to live with Lily’s sister in Surrey.”

“You’re lying,” Sirius spat. “Who are you, really?”

But the man wasn’t interested in convincing him, and Sirius didn’t need him to anyway. He had already revealed enough—enough to change the future.

“Untie me,” Sirius demanded.

The other man lingered, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Then, without a word, he turned around and took several decisive steps to cross to the door. Sirius snarled at him to come back, but the man would not look at him. The man dropped the wand he’d been carrying on the floor, wrenched open the door, and disappeared as the door slammed behind him. The footsteps faded. 

Sirius snarled furiously, shouting after the man to release him, but the man did not return. 

It took ten minutes to inch across the flat towards his wand, and he was cursing his future self as he wriggled over the floorboards. But in those minutes, he was piecing together the warning, and realizing with dawning horror the gravity of his mistake. 

It’s Peter. It’s Peter. It’s Peter.

[cheynovak]

My brother's best friend  

Reader x Dean Winchester  

Warnings:   smut 16+, jealousy,...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words:  3538

Y/N and Sam known each other from college, Y/N introduced him to Jess. Sam considered her to be one of his best friends. While the brothers are on a hunt she ran into them, they decide to ask her for help. Dean at first doesn’t trusts her but the more he sees Sam hanging out with her the more he starts to appreciate her. Until he realises, he might actually have feelings for the normal girl who seems to be only interested or liking his younger brother.  

 

*note: Picture this in the early seasons with a time jump. The story may not always follow the supernatural timeline*  

 

*Not my GIF*

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Sam and Dean were sitting at the diner, while Dean was stuffing his face with what he claimed to be the best burger ever, Sam was trying to find out where these symbols came from. “I’m telling you Dean we need to go talk to an expert about these hieroglyphics.” Dean looked annoyed “And I think those have nothing to do with this case Sam. Just a werewolf haunting that farm.”  

“Sam? Sam Winchester is that you?” The brothers looked up towards the sound of her voice. “Oh, hi Y/N.” He stood up and gave her a hug. “Dude, do you ever stop growing!” She joked while accepting the tallest Winchester’s hug. Sam laughed “Sit down with us. How are you, w-what are you doing here?”  

“Well, I eh...” Y/N noticed the confused face Dean was making at her and Sam. “Oh, Dean this is Y/N a friend from college, Y/N this is Dean my older brother.” - “Hi nice to meet you.” Y/N said. “Yeah, hi.” Dean answered still a little confused. Y/N turned back to Sam. “So, I eh am looking for a new job. Todd and I left California after I graduated, you remember him, right?” Sam nodded “I became a history and art-history teacher at the local high school in Reno. But eh, Todd and I split up a couple of months ago, and I have been on a self-empowering road trip ever since. But I’m running out of money so, hence the job search.”   

“Y/N, here major History back at Stanford.” Sam said exited to Dean, “And did an extra course in art history.” Y/N told Sam. While Dean made a oh really, I don’t care look. “So, eh what about you?” She turned back to Sam. “Kind of the same, road trip since...” He answered quiet looking down. Y/N grabbed his hand. “I miss her too.” She said sincerely. Dean broke the silents “Well, I’m going to...” He pointed to the restrooms. “Your brother doesn't seem to like me.” Y/N said while following Dean with her eyes. “He’s just not good with meeting new people.” They talked a little more, Dean walked back from the toilets seeing his brother laugh at something Y/N just said. When he got to the table Y/N stood up. “Well, it was really nice to see you again Sam.” Y/N wrote something on a napkin. “If you are planning on staying in town a little longer... and you want to, I don’t know, talk or hang out, text me, here is my new number.” She hugged Sam goodbye and threw a cute little smile at Dean.  

“Do you ever stop growing” Dean said in a high-pitched voice mocking Y/N while walking to the car. “Really Dean? Y/N is a nice person, she was the first friend I had at Stanford, she introduced me to Jess.” “Well, if she is so great maybe she can help you with your little riddle.” he pointed to his laptop bag. Sam rolled his eyes “For once a girl doesn’t flirt with you but talks to me instead and you get all fuzzed.” - “I’m not fuzzed Sammy, I’m cautious, I don’t know her, I don’t trust her.”  

 

Later that night.  

Dean heard a knock on the motel room door. He answered it with a gun against back of the door, while Sam was sitting on his bed trying to find out more about the symbols. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here.” “Eh, Sam texted me? He needed help with something he said.” Y/N looked Dean up and down, “may I come in or do I need to help him out here?” Dean looked at Sam taking a step back. “Didn’t think you would text me this quick. Missed me already?” She joked taking of her jacket. “No, eh I wanted you to take a look at these symbols.” He turned his laptop to Y/N. “Hieroglyphics, you asked me to come here to look at hieroglyphics?” She looked confused at the youngest brother. 

They both heard Dean chuckle. Smooth move Sammy, he thought, text the girl an address of a motel she would immediately think she was needed for her brains. Y/N took a seat next to Sam on his bed. “What do you need to know?” She crossed her legs. “Well, can you translate these or find out what they mean?” - “If I have the right tools yeah sure, but not out of the top of my head. Why do you guys need to know this?” She looked back and forward between the brothers. Dean sighs he got up “Just tell me what you need, I’ll get it.” Y/N made a list with books she needed. With Dean gone she turned to Sam again looking for an explanation. After a little push from her Sam told Y/N about the family business and the latest case.  

Within the hour Dean got back presenting the books she needed. “How did you get these?” - “The library.” - “At this hour?” - “Don’t ask.” He smiled his perfect grin at her. Dean took a seat in the chair at the table watching his brother and Y/N working like a perfect team. But after a while Sam dozed off leaven just Y/N to research. By morning both of the brothers were asleep. “GOT IT” Y/N yelled, waking Dean and Sam up very abrupt. “Hear this, it’s some old Egyptian curse or spell to trap the god Anubis. He was usually represented as a jackal or as a man with the head of a jackal. Their association with death and funerals comes from jackals scavenging around cemeteries. Now the strange part is that Anubis normally cares about the desisted, he was like the patron god for embalmers. He wasn’t a murderer.”  

“Jackal, that would explain the bite marks and removing the heart.” Dean said to Sam. ‘How do we break the spell.” Sam asked Y/N “I don’t know, I never knew gods excited, let alone you could trap them!” Y/N said panicking slightly. “But, eh fun fact, the heart is key in Egyptian culture, it needs to be pure. When someone dies Anubis weighs it and if it’s light enough, they could go to Yaru, pretty much their heaven. If it’s heavier they feed you to Ammit.” She looked at the boys then continued. “The eh spells normally is carved on the skin of the person who tries to control Anubis, to tie him down on their own flesh, but that only works until they die. But these are carved on property.” Dean packed his bag, we need to get to that farm before any more people get hurt. “You.” He pointed at Y/N, “find out how to stop this.”  

A little later Sam’s phone rang. The boys were still in the car. ”Y/N, you’re on speaker.”  

“There is no way to kill this god, but there is a way to stop him. You need to find who carved those symbols. He or she needs to use their own blood to undo the curse. They need to wipe their blood over the symbol and pray to Anubis to weight their heart as a sacrifice for the dead he caused, I’ll send you the translated text. Then you need to burn that spell before someone else uses it or copies it.  

After a long time, the brothers came back to the motel room. Y/N got up, “D-did it work?” She asked unsure of her translation skills. Dean nodded. “Good work Y/N.” Sam said. They all sat down for a second. Only now the reality started to kick in. “So, all the fairytales and horror stories are, real.” Y/N said defeated looking at her feet. “Well, before I go, is there a 101 starters kit I need to travel with from now on?” She asked lifting her up from the bed. Dean laughed for the first time sincere and handed you the salt. “What is this?” Y/N looked confused at him. “I’ll explain it on the way to your car.” Sam smiled. “Maybe... Y/N needs to sleep first before hitting the road.” Dean interrupted. “She had been working day and night.” 

That was the start of them working together. It started out as an occasionally call to Y/N for information or a translation. Even Dean started to call her for help, or that is what he says to himself. The boys recent found the bunker. “Well, I know who would be thrilled with this archive.” Dean said looking over to his brother. “You mean Y/N? Why don’t you invite her? I’m sure you would like to see her again.” Sam said, knowing very well his brother liked her a little more than he would admit. “Pff, she is your friend, you call her.” He said trying to brush it off. “Are you sure?” Sam asked grinning, holding his phone out to Dean. “Ok, fine.” He huffed taking the phone.  

“SAMMY! It’s been too long, how are you friendly giant!” Y/N answered her phone way more enthusiastic than when she answerers Dean’s calls. “Eh, no it me.” Dean answered feeling jealous. “Oh, hi Dean, is everything ok?” Y/N asked worried. “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” - “You’re calling with Sam phone?” - “Oh yeah, no I eh, we were just talking and... would you like to come over? If you have nothing better to do off course.” - ”Sure, text me the address.” They hang up the phone. And before Dean could turn around his brother laughed “Smooth, very smooth Dean.” - “You shut up!” The older brother answered angry and embarrassed.  

Y/N parked her car, the brothers were already waiting for her outside. Dean looked at her, she was smiling from ear to ear when she walked towards Sam pulling him in a tight hug. She really likes him he thought. “How are ya?” she asked him while giving Dean a hug too. “We’re good, found ourselves a new home.” The young brother answered - “Ooh, house tour!” She said while wrapping her arm around Sam like an old couple. Dean rolled his eyes while walking behind them.  

You walk into the archive “Wow, this is really something!” She said with her eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m going to leave you two nerds to it. I’ll make dinner.” Dean said quietly leaving the room. “What’s up with him?” She asked Sam. He has been through a lot lately. “Hm, want me to talk to him later?” She asked him, still looking at the empty door, Dean walked out of. “No, he will be alright. Give him some time.” Dean’s mind started to float back to their last hunt. He was stupid enough to go hunt a djinn by himself and got captured. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dream.  

Dean woke up in a warm bed, the sun came through the windows of the room. It took him a second to remember where he was when all of the sudden, he felt a hand pulling around his waist. “Good morning handsome.” The female voice said to his ear. His eyes got big as he turned around seeing Y/N in bed next to him. She kissed his lips with a soft touch before crawling into his arms resting her head against his shirt. Dean smiled softly not knowing what happened last night but liking the outcome of it. “Even though I would like nothing more than to stay in your arms, we need to get ready.” Y/N said kissing his chest breaking his trail of thoughts. “Why?” - “Sam invited us remember?” She looked up at him. “You forgot, didn’t you?” He smiled shyly.  

He watched her walking to the bathroom in a little babydoll dress admiring her curves. “Stop staring Winchester, get ready.” He heard her yell.  

Dean and Y/N pulled up at Sam’s place, Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. His parents and Jess were talking in the living room before they noticed them walking in. “Ah, there he is, aways the last one to arrive.” His dad said. “How are you holding up with him?” He joked pointing at Dean. “Barely.” Y/N answered in the same tone. ”No refunds.” John laughed. “Dinner is served.” Jess announced. before Dean could answer. Even though it was strange seeing you at the same table as his parents he liked it. “Eh, guys, we have an announcement.” Sam lifted his voice. Jess took his hand.” I’m pregnant.” Everyone was over the moon, but Dean couldn’t help but feeling out of this world.  

Sam and John were talking, still sitting at the table. While Dean decided to get a refill on his beer. He heard Jess, his mom and Y/N talk during the dishes. “So, what about you guys? Still no ring I see.” his mom asked.” Y/N didn’t answer but he could see her face. “Is Dean ever going to be ready to settle down?” Jess asked Mary. “I don’t know, Y/N and Dean have been together how long know?” She asked Y/N. “Next summer, 3 years.” Y/N answered loading in the plates. “He is quiet today, I don’t know what’s going on.” - “I noticed too; he isn’t half as handsy as he is normally. He didn’t even hold his hand on your thigh or kissed you yet.” Jess said. Dean walked in pretending not to have heard anything they said. Y/N stood next to the fridge, he placed his hand on her lower back and kissed her temple before getting another beer.  

Once home Dean took off his clothes and stepped in the shower, he felt a fresh wind of air against his back before he felt Y/N’s hands around his ribs, her face against his shoulder. “What’s wrong Dean?” He heard the worries is her voice. His heart bounced almost out of his chest. He turned around seeing her completely naked for the first time. His lips moved to hers, the kiss became quickly more passioned. Their hands moving to discover each other's body... Dean didn’t want to hold back he wanted to feel every inch of her. He took her hands and moved back, she looked worried. “Shower sex, to complicated.” He said while pulling her in the bedroom. “He is back” she smiled while he dropped her in the bed hovering over her. He lifted her leg, stroking her thigh with his rough fingers before entering her smoothly.  "Oh, Dean..."

“Dean?” He almost jumped hearing his name. “Did you just flinch?” Y/N said trying not to laugh. “Anything I can help you with?” He tried to forget he just daydreamed about them being intimate. “I need your help.” She said while leaning back at the kitchen table looking at him. “I’m sure Sam could help you out. Little busy here. Food, dinner you know.” He said smiling over his shoulder, desperately trying to avoid turning to her since his dream had wakened an erection. “Dean, I need you, Sam can’t help me.” She was persistent. He sights. “Fine, I’m following you.”  

Y/N walked to the garage. “Really? You need me to take a look at your car?” He said looking at her, she nodded fast. “Sam knows a thing or two about cars.” He said but still opening the hood “Well, I only trust you with my car, since she is a classic.’ Throwing him the keys to her ‘70 mustang. Dean started the car, looked under the hood. ”I don’t hear or see anything wrong.” He said after a while, turning the cars off still sitting in the front seat. Y/N sat next to him on the passenger's seat facing him. “There isn’t anything wrong with the car.” He looked puzzled at her. “I know my girl inside out; I know how to take care of her. But there is something with you.” She pointed her finger at him. “And you... I don’t know so well to fix.” Dean kept looking in her eyes, thinking “Damn that sounded hot.”  

“So, tell me.” She pushed. “Nothing wrong.” - “Dean, stop lying to me or yourself. You act like I'm a stranger...” He stepped out of the car closing the hood. “Dean what did I do?” - “You didn’t do anything.”- ‘Then why are you acting so strange lately?” Dean started to walk towards the exit. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” She pulled his arm to make him stop. He turned to her, pushing her against the side of her car holding her shoulders. She locked eyes with him, for the first time seeing every tint of green before he dipped down kissing her deep, holding her head in his hands. When he took a step back, she felt dizzy, holding on to his flannel still looking at his eyes. “Now you know.” he said out of breath. When she didn’t answer immediately, he started to get nervous. “But I –I know... how you... You know your feelings for Sam so. Don’t worry, ok.”  

Y/N pulled Dean closer kissing him again. Moving her hands under his flannel shirt to his neck and shoulders. Dean placed a hand on her side and one the top of the car, completely covering Y/N with his body. The kiss got hot and heavy really quick. Both stripping from their clothes, Y/N pushed Dean in the passenger seat while he pulled her in, straddling his lap. She held his head in her hands kissing, his tongue followed hers. His hand steady on her back while she grinded his hips for friction. A moan escaped her lips, when she felt him already hard against her clothed slit. His hand moved down in her panties, humming feeing they were already soaked, dipping two fingers in and out of her, wetting his fingers before softly started to rub his fingers over her clit. Moving a little lower placing his fingers inside her again while his thumb worked on her clit. Making her fall against his shoulder moaning his name. 

He kissed her neck and ear. “Protection?” He asked breathless. “Glovebox.” She answered with her lips still in his neck. He moved his hand making Y/N whimper and dipped a little forward to reach for the condom. She moved away a little to take off his boxers and her panties, pumping his dick a few more times while he tried to open the packaging, her touch making it hard for him to focus. Once all wrapped up, she lowered herself on him. Moaning his name as she felt every inch stretching. Dean looked at her like a man enchanted with his plump lips parted as she started to move. The palm of his hand on the end of her thighs his fingers spread over her flesh, holding her steady against him.  

“Oh Dean...” she whimpered in his ear. He could feel she was close to an orgasm. “I got you... Let go.” He said when his hand moved down to where they were connected, drawing circles on her clit. Y/N’s head felt back making it easier for Dean to look at her when she rode out her orgasm on is dick. “So fucking beautiful.” He whispered. The feeling of her tightening around him made it impossible for him to go on any longer. He pulled his arms around her while he groans against her neck and shoulder. Both of them out of breath, but neither moved. Dean looked in her eyes again moving a piece of hair out of her face. “Was not expecting that.” He laughed “Next time, talk to me before assuming I like someone else.” Y/N hit his chest with the back of her hand.  

They started to get dressed outside of the car. “So eh, is this a one-time thing?” Dean asked a little nervous. Y/N smiled flirty while walking to the door? “Wait, what does that mean.” He yelled. “Talk to me more, you will figure out.” He ran after her holding her against the door. “I've got plenty of time now.” He kissed her. “I don’t think so.” -” Why not?” - “Dean, I smell something burning.” She said in a honey sweet voice. Dean pushed her aside while he ran to the kitchen.  

Sam held up the pots and pans that were burned while the both of you ran in the kitchen. “Next time before you two... You know what, I don’t even want to know, but make sure to turn off the stove Dean.”  

“So, Pizza it is?” Y/N asked not being able to contain her laugh.  

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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