#he needs to look more like a mangy dog actually

[daddys-radioactive-milk]

Don't have the energy to complete this right now, but here it is. This made me realize I want to change 22's hair.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sweet lips ❞ (rough hands pt.2)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. rival bands hobie x FTM!reader, conflicting emotions, a lot of sexual tension, light exhibition, lots of kissing, humping, pussyjob, accidental penetration, save a horse ride a cowboy, no orgasm (womp womp). you and Hobie agree, nothing can happen between you two, feelings would make things too complicated. but when you go further than expected, you find that you two like each other far more than you realize.

wc: 3.7k

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

“They make me sick.” Your guitarist grumbled under her breath as you and The Mutts lounge on a mangy, beat-up couch backstage of a shared venue. You all watch, glaring at the Mary Janes as they pass by. They don't spare their own glowering gazes at your Mutts, like two packs of dogs growling and snapping at each other where territories meet.

You catch the leader of the Mary Janes’ gaze. His eyes flicker at you and yours narrow with a biting hatred you've always had. Hobie Brown curls his lip up at you and turns away as his band rounds the corner to make their way to a separate lounging area backstage. Your own secret language, two birds and their indecipherable mating rituals.

It’s easy to pretend you still hate each other, between quick glances and lingering touches. A charade of band rivalry made to keep up the act for your respective bandmates. They’d never understand the way you always find him before or after performing and let him touch you in ways that would bring shame to the lot of them.

“Why Hobie Brown?” They'd say. “He’s the worst.” “I thought you hated him.” “He’s a fucking dickhead.” All of which are true. He is the worst. You do hate him. And he’s the biggest dickhead on this planet and the next. An arrogant, cocky, insufferable asshole with lips that taste like mint and beer and fingers that reach places inside you that you never even knew existed.

“There’s that battle of the bands competition coming up.” Your drummer chuckled snidely. “Wouldn't it be great to show them up? Fuckin’ posers.”

You got up from the couch, murmuring something about going to find a bathroom in this labyrinth of a venue. Your bandmates didn't question it, telling you to hurry back as you guys would be performing soon. You waved them off. “Yeah yeah, lemme go piss in peace.”

Your boots thudded against the old rickety floors of the venue, your eyes shooting from side to side looking to see if anyone would bear witness to your sin. Hobie told you to meet him just beyond the dressing rooms after he was done performing. He always needed a way to let off some of that built up adrenaline afterwards and you needed to rid yourself of your anxieties. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.

It was simple really. No strings attached, not emotions, no sappy, meaningless feelings to get in the way. And most importantly, no actual intercourse. It was too messy, too intimate, it meant too many things. Because if this all went to shit, it would be easy to transition back into hating each other without missing the way each other's body felt on the inside.

Hobie was hiding from you, lingering in a dark corner, while you looked aimlessly for his lanky figure. For a moment you wondered if he stood you up and was all together ready to write him off as the asshole you always believed him to be and go back to your bandmates.

You turned your back to him and he stepped out of hiding to grab you by the waist, turning you around to press his lips to yours and back you against a wall. You didn't kiss him back, instead you punched him in the shoulder and pushed his face away. “Asshole!” You tried not to be too loud. “I hate you.”

Hobie’s lips curled up into a grin as he snickered. “If ya hated me ya wouldn't be ova here, would’ja?” He laughed as you pushed against him again, forcing him to release you as he stumbled back. “Fine, I won't be here then.” You wouldn't entertain his jokes, if he wouldn't help with your stage jitters then you didn't need to be here in the first place.

But as you expected, as you wanted, Hobie took you hand and pulled you back to him. “Hey, hey, hey, I was jus’ messin’ ‘round. Stop bein’ such a prissy, stuck up bitch, eh.” He trapped you in his arms again, your back against the wall, bodies flush against each other with just your clothes to keep you apart. His pants were tight, you could feel his bulge against your tummy. A useless appendage, never to feel the gummy insides of your cunt.

You turned away from him. “Fuck you.” You grunt. His hand snaked up your front, feeling up your chest and your throat before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You wish, don’cha?” He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you once more. You don't resist this time.

Your kisses are feverish, urgent. You'd never call them passionate. Passionate is for lovers, for people who care about each other beyond the fling you two have going on. Your kisses demand each other's full, undivided attention. It asks, always, “will we go there today?” The answer is always “no”.

No fucking, nothing too intimate.

But your kiss is deep, his lips are sweet, and his hands are swiftly unbuckling your belt to get into your pants. He knows you want his fingers, long and skillful and pretty, readied with the intimate knowledge of what makes you tick, what makes you shudder and roll your hips into his palm, what makes you curse his name while kissing him all the same.

You’re panting breaths into each other's mouths, the essence of your beings on each other’s tongues. Your mind grows dizzy with the taste of him, delightful and tangy. You want to savor him on your tongue between your sloppy kisses.

“Hobie,” you sighed into his mouth as his hand snuck beyond the waistline of your pants and dove into your underwear to touch you where you ached most for him. And just as his fingers began to rub between your wet folds, you heard someone call out for Hobie.

Quickly, you two retreated from one another in fear of being caught in such a compromising position. Hobie snatched his hands from you and you swiftly began to make yourself decent once again. You glanced at each other, knowing this was not done. You'd have to come to his boat later in the night when you were both away from your bandmates. It was the only semblance of privacy you two had.

Without a word, you two went your opposite ways with the mutual understanding that you’d come to his boat later and happily sit on his fingers and drag orgasm after orgasm out of your pants up body.

But you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder at his retreating frame, only to find he was looking at you already, walking backwards. When he noticed he was caught, he raised his hand as if to concede he had been found out and smiled, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes at his and turned back around, only to nip at your bottom lip which where the taste of him still lingered like a ghost.

You performed with a hazy mind and wet between the legs, every motion reminding you of how you had been left needy and desperate. You hated feeling desperate. The sweat lingering on your forehead, the way your lips kiss the mic as you had kissed him, pushing yourself against the stand like it was his body. You needed him, bad.

You went to his boat that night with a single thing on your mind. Cumming until you forgot your name. Hobie was keenly skilled at that, teased you relentlessly for it when your dazed gaze comes back into focus and you look as though you don't know where you are.

Hobie was on the deck of his houseboat when you arrived, strumbing at chords on his guitar while scribbling down on the notepad beside him. He had left the plank down so that you could board on your own. He was keenly aware of your presence as soon as you arrived, only pretending that he wasn’t to ensure he didn’t seem too eager to see you.

You came up behind him, squatting down to look over his shoulder at his lyric book. “Writing lyrics about me?” You teased. Hobie snapped his book closed before you could any good grasp on his indecipherable handwriting. He looked back at you, a bit nervous but playing it off well. “Tryna steal ma ideas, now? ‘Specially wit’ tha’ battle of the bands comin’ up.”

Little did you know, he was writing about you. The chords he strummed on his stickered guitar were taken from the sheet music of his heart. He’s been trying to fight it, the feelings he had for you. You both agreed there would be none of your sticky, bloody heartstrings exposed for one another. And he was determined to keep it. It made everything much, much easier.

You pushed his head lightly and stood up, looking down upon him with a rather unimpressed expression. “I wouldn’t want your lyrics if you wrote the next “God Save the Queen”. I’ve got my own stuff. We’re gonna put you in the ground.” You really hadn’t come to talk about your competition.

Hobie stood up to a height that made you stagger. He was shirtless. His lean body on display for you to admire. He was close to you, so close you could smell his musky body wash and a faded whiff of his cologne. He smiled at you and reached to tap your chin. So pretty you could have dropped dead right then and there, your breath stolen away from you, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

Sometimes you wished Hobie wasn’t so nice to look at. It would make things a whole lot easier for you.

“Le’s go inside, yeah?” Hobie nudged you, grabbing his guitar and his lyric book and walking through the door he had left open that led into his home, a place you have learned to know all too well. You followed him inside and immediately made yourself comfortable. You kicked off your boots by the door and made your way over to his bed.

This was all just formalities. Going through the motions of your usual niceties of snide remarks and biting laughter at the other’s expense. The ‘hello, how are you’s before you two get down to the gritty stuff. You learned to enjoy this moment. The suspense of “when” made it all the nicer when one of you would eventually have enough of it and walk over to kiss the other.

You sat on his bed, messily made in some haphazard attempt to make it seem like he had a morning routine outside of walk up and go out on the deck for a cig to clear his head of the dreams he’s been having of you. He’d dig the heels of his palms into his eyes and groan at the thought of you lingering behind his eyes.

Hobie wasn’t sure if he’d be comforted with the fact that you’ve been having dreams of him too. Touching you, kissing you, pushing into you with his lips mouthing words of praise against your neck. You’d wake up flustered, face hot with the idea, heart palpitating in your chest. You’d be a little meaner to him that day just to balance out the way the thought of him made you feel things that you were forced to call “want”.

You watched Hobie as he put his guitar back on its stand and tossed his lyric book down on a small couch he had to the side. His pants hung low on his hips, the dimples kissing his low back are something you’ve never noticed before. You wanted to press your fingers there, kiss them even. You shut the idea down before you even had the chance to linger on it.

Hobie went into his fridge and pulled out two beers. He used one to pop the other open and then did the same with the other, the beer frothing in their bottles as he came and handed one to you.

“You think I want your shitty beer?” You took it anyway. Hobie stood over you, taking a swing of it all while keeping his eyes trained on you. With a sigh, he said, “No, I think ya want my tongue on yer cunt but I figured ya wasn' gonna ou’ ‘n say tha’ much.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. You hated that he made you get so flustered. You hated his crudeness. You hated that he leaned down and held your chin so gently and kissed you with his mint and beer stained lips and you so blissfully let him. He’s sweet to the senses, sweet on your tongue as you press yours to his.

Then he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you, panting. “Drink.” He guides your hand to press the rim of your bottle to your lips. You do drink, you hope that at the bottom you might find your will to leave before things get too heated. You know you won't. You’re too addicted to the way he moves, his rough hands and sweet lips.

You drink the whole bottle and he does the same and after you two kiss again. Hobie takes your bottle from you and sets both of them down on the floor beside his bed. Doing this, he parts your lips once more. And you cry a little. “Just fucking kiss me, you asshole.”

“Aww,” He poked at you. “Needy aren’cha?”

You grab him by the shoulders, pull him in, and kiss him viciously, like you’re trying to eat him whole. Consume him and make him one with your body. Hobie chuckled at this, his smile wide against your lips as he rubbed soft circles into the plush of your thighs. Your tongues find each other in the mess of teeth, lips, and piercings. Noses mashing against the other as you press your faces into each other. You desire to melt into him. He wants to mold your body with his hands.

“We should try somethin’ different t’day.” Hobie purred against your tongue that licked at the seam of his lips so thoughtfully asked permission. He let you in, let you explore every tantalizing crevice of his tender mouth. You hummed mindlessly, still kissing. “What’s that?”

Hobie snickered softly at his idea and broke your kiss into a string of thin saliva that held you two together. It broke apart when Hobie leaned back and lied flat on his bed. You you were still on top of him, his pulsing cock before you, aching with a few small jumps. It was a pretty thing for sure, with veins like the stems of flowers and a tip that was slightly bigger than the rest of the shaft. It curved slightly and for some reason you liked it. It never did anything for you. You never allowed it to enter your body.

Hobie pulled your hips forward until you were sitting on top of it, leaking pussy pressing down on the warm length of his dick. Immediately, you pulled away. “Hobie, we said–”

“Jus’ calm down, luv. We’re no’ goin’ there. I’s jus’ a lil’ humpin’.” Hobie assured you, pulling you back down to sit on top of him. His fingers rubbed your thighs and hips in a comforting manner. ”Come on, we’re both grown men. We can ‘ave some self control.” You settled down. You assured yourself nothing more would happen. Hobie seemed confident of the same. 

With permission, Hobie tightened his hold on your hips and began to guide your movements. His length was trapped between your pussy lips which rubbed him up and down while your clit caught on his tip. You both let out fluttering moans, occasionally looking at each other but mostly focusing on the pussyjob you were giving him.

“I hate you.” You muttered between soft moans, your hips rutting on their own now. You watched Hobie smirk and let a deep chuckle pass his succulent, kiss-swollen lips. “Ya say i’ so much I almos’ tink ya like me.”

Oh, how right he was. You had barely even known it yourself, the way you overcompensated for the way you long to be near him by telling him constantly how thoroughly you despise him. You were startled by how accurately he read you. You hated being an open book.

You snarled at him, pressing your hips down harder, rocking your hips faster. “Fuck you.”

Hobie let out a shaky sigh. His cock leaked out pre into his hairy navel. “So close, baby.” Your pussy was dripping on him, the sticky wetness between your legs making your path along the tail of his cock slippery. You were playing a dangerous game and you both adored it beyond reason.

Hobie looked up as you rolled your head back, exposing the chaste flesh on your throat. He admired you, your broad shoulders, your pretty waist, the crescent scars along the underside of your chest. His hand caresses your thighs, up your hips and your sides. Your skin was soft and supple under his rough touch, God, to be like this was like having Heaven in his hold.

You were so eager, so zealous, so daring with your movements. Neither of you noticed how far you had gone forwards, further than normal. You felt his wet tip against your entrance and before you could stop your momentum, you rocked back into it and let him plunge himself into your love.

Immediately, both of your eyes snapped to each other and you paused. He was inside of you, raw. Never before had you trekked into this territory, too fearful of what it may mean. But you were here now, his cock snuggled nicely between your walls that you involuntarily massaging him.

You stared at each other for a long time. Your gazes melting from fear to something far, far more terrifying. Without a word, you two agreed. You’d do this once. Only once. And it would mean nothing. With the slightest nod, you agreed that you two wouldn't become addicted to the feeling of him stretching your entrance open and he wouldn't find himself thinking about how soft and wet you were.

You stared him in his heterochromatic eyes as you sat fully in his lap, your fingers splayed out over his chest. His hands gripped your hips as you rolled them timidly into his and let out a soft cry as the feeling of him filling you, stretching you out, molding you.

Hobie sat up. Your chests touched. Your hands settled on his shoulders to brace yourself as you sat up. This was your chance to stop this, you both know where this road leads. But instead of completely coming off of him, you came back down on his length. You both moaned something guttural past your tender lips.

Hobie felt his mind grow dizzy with the feeling of your soft, wet walls gripping him like a vice, and addiction he just can’t shake. For a moment, he thought that your rough exterior — your crude cursing and biting hatred — was all an act to hide the fact that you were so tender and beautiful on the inside.

You found a steady rhythm. Each plunge of his length into you dragging out moans from you both. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close with your eyes closed. You couldn't bear to look at him. You knew that if you looked at him, looking him in his pretty eyes, he might snatch your soul from you and never return it.

Hobie terrified you. Every moment you spent in his presence was a moment that you found yourself enjoying despite all your grunts and groans at his expense. You liked him and that horrified you. Now you were here, taking the best dick you’ve ever gotten in your life. His dulcet moans echoing in your ears as his hands pull you ever closer.

His tip kissed your cervix with each bounce and your back arched into him at the feeling. Your chest were rubbing, your bodies moving and melding together. It was intimate, too intimate for your liking.

You were about to tell him you hated him again, to crush this feeling you had blooming within the bloody, stringy workings of your heart, but as you opened your eyes to do so, you found that Hobie was already looking at you, his eyes rather soft for comfort.

You couldn't. You couldn't do this. Your heart was beating too fast, your pupils were dilating, you could feel an orgasm quickly approaching. You couldn't do this. It was too much too fast. Too many feelings all at once that you were sure you weren't ready to handle.

You got up swiftly, so fast you almost toppled over. You were quick to start collecting your clothes and slipping them back on. “I– I can't do this.”

“You ‘ave feelin’ fo’ me ‘n yer too scared t’admit i'.” Hobie bit at you, watching you pull on a shirt that wasn't yours in your haste to leave. You shook your head, fingers trembling, the ache of him still pulsing between your legs. “No, no, shut up! You don't know anything about me!” Your voice quivered. You couldn't bear to bring your eyes to look at him because you know if you did you’d crumble. You had to leave. 

Hobie didn't bother to convince you to stay. If you were set in leaving, who was he to stop you? Maybe he wasn't ready to confront his feelings either. You were two sides of the same coin, neither ready to handle these soft emotions you’ve grown callous to.

You left into the night without looking back at him and he slammed the door behind you on your way out, tears swelling in your eyes as you let out a sob and kicked the door. “Fuck you, Hobie! I hope you rot in hell!”

“I'll meet ya there, arsehole!” He sneered back through the door. Weeks of your tumultuous affair gone down the drain all in one fell swoop.

Your heartstrings torn as you bleed all over each other.

[ariseur]

How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.

animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

arthur morgan x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.

❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go

❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously

❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭

❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.

❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭

❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest

❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey

❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).

❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.

❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.

“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.

“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.

you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”

“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.

your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”

“naw, ‘s fine—“

“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”

arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.

he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.

“yeah, sure.”

𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser

[marigold-hills]

june 4: wildfire | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 626

PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

Remus says: “take me to bed.”

Remus say take me to bed and Sirius remembers a trip to France when he was a child, the summer air during a drought, sharp and heavy and dense enough to blanket him, and then, a week later, watching a wildfire ravage through the forest. This is the spark, Sirius thinks.

He was safe within the Manor’s wards, but the fire was a savage, hungry thing and it ate the horizon. Sirius was a wild child then, and he is wild still, and the desire to go outside and feel the burn on his skin hasn’t changed.

“I’ve finished my dissertation,” he admits, not ready for this golden moment between them to end and coming clean about the little omission is easier than facing new thoughts.

(Remus says that’s amazing, Sirius. He says good job, congratulations.)

“And I… um… tattoo.”

“You got a tattoo?” Remus reads into the jumbled words, frowns, “why didn’t you say? You’ve been going on about it all year.”

Sirius is wearing an oversized Queen T-shirt he likes to sleep in. The hem is loose. Makes it easy to lift up above his torso. Down the middle of his breastbone, exposing more than skin: the sign of the alchemical Great Wolf and below it seven intricate moons, waxing and waning.

“You… you didn’t say that’s what you were getting.”

Remus doesn’t blink, not once. Takes in the ink like reading a book – top to bottom, careful eyes. Reaches out to touch each symbol in turn, one by one, his fingers holding the same reverence Sirius has seen in him when handling ancient texts. They’re keeping his place, marking where he is on the page. For one mad moment Sirius wants the mark to be permanent.

“Why, Sirius?” Remus asks as if Sirius knew the answer. He doesn’t say Pads or Padfoot or “you great big mangy dog” as he does usually, he says Sirius and that’s how they both know it’s important.

And Sirius wants to answer – wants to give the right answer - but he can’t because he doesn’t know. Only knows this: he was there, with the money ready, and the man with the tattoo gun asked what will it be? and out of the window, out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw the moon and said: this. This is what I want to touch me for the rest of my life, this is what I want to carve into my skin.

And while the ink was being needled into him, it quietened the need he has to bite and keep, to hurt.

And now, Remus’ careful fingers meld it together and satisfy the part of him which wants to be soft and gentle, sweet.

“Sirius?” Remus prods when he doesn’t answer. Splays his hand so that it lays flat across the tattoo, and has Moony always had hands this large? Has the rough edge of his fingers, from years of using a quill, always felt like that?

It must have because this is Moony – their Moony, his Moony - but it couldn’t because Sirius never once has been rendered quiet by a simple touch before. There have been so many over the years, in the Shack, after Quidditch, in the Lake, at nights filled with nightmares. Always the same hands, and yet.

Sirius let’s go of the hem of his shirt and grabs onto the hand on his chest, presses it closer into his skin like he could push it through to touch his heart (it’s beating now, so fast, so, so hard). He wants more and he wants to understand, and he’ll give into both the urges. For as long as Remus will let him.

Remus, eyes wide, lets him.

NOTES:

This is part 4! There will be 30. I suggest reading in order for the full experience but they also should work as standalone.

Don’t do this in the library. If you must, I suppose 2am is a good time.

I’ve changed Sirius’ tattoo from how it was in the movies. Originally the symbol he has on the very top is for amalgamation and here I went with antimony because it signifies the great wolf and I like the idea of that. The symbols are actually very similar looking. If you remember part one, this one goes back to the dissertation he’s writing.

not sure if I should add smut to this. Thoughts?

@moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Lovegood reader with Remus and Sirius? She sees a skrunky wolf man and a big ol black dog. Gives them be best head pats and will lay their heads in her lap as she talks about potions to Remus (despite his wolf form) and telling Sirius she finds his fur rather soft

I can totally see Lovegood!Reader one day after class or someday out of the blue and completely out of pocket just walking up to Remus and stating that he is in fact a werewolf. Like, they don’t even ask or inquire about it, they just state it with absolute conviction that Remus is left trying to process whether they in fact found out that he is an actual werewolf or if they were instead just appointing him as a werewolf. But after that one incident it’s never brought up again, even when Remus does try to explain things or bring it up to the Reader they don’t acknowledge it and it takes a bit for Remus to realize that this is just how they’re going about keeping his secret by not acknowledging it ever again.

It’s safe to say though that Lovegood!Reader would spend a good chunk of their time with Remus when he comes to work at Hogwarts, always visiting him in between classes or staying after class even if it’s just to sit and watch Remus go about preparing for the next class or grading homework. And Remus catches himself enjoying the Reader’s company, even if they don’t chat much and are just quietly there in their own little world, he doesn’t mind. I can also see Lovegood!Reader, whether consciously picking up on it or not, sensing how truly lonely Remus is and that’s why they visit him or stay with him for a time here and there.

Leave it to a Lovegood to cross paths with an escaped criminal or the omen of death and make friends with them. I can’t help but imagine that in Harry’s third year when Sirius escapes and is on the run, Lovegood!Reader comes across a mangy black dog who doesn’t come off as being so friendly during a Hogsmeade trip that they most definitely strayed away from (this was probably why the idea of a child leash was brought up). You can’t tell me that Lovegood!Reader wouldn’t have ‘if it’s friend shaped then it must be a friend’ mentality written all over them. And that’s exactly what they see when they have this mangy black dog growling and baring it’s teeth at them coupled with a wild look in its eye. Sirius couldn’t be more relieved when the Reader leaves only for them to comeback some time later with an arm full of warm food, blankets and pillows. Do they know who he is? What he is? Or is this just someone under the belief they’re caring for some random mangy stray? Either way, he’s secretly grateful for the goods they brought him.

Before he realizes it, Sirius has the Reader checking up on and continuing to bring him things during their Hogsmeade visits. It takes him sometime to feel comfortable or trusting enough to reveal who he really is (if they haven’t told anyone anything thus far then it should be alright, right?) and honestly he couldn’t have been more disappointed and relieved at the reaction he got, or rather the lack of. I just love the thought of Lovegood!Reader not having much or any reaction to him not only not being a an average stray dog but also being an escaped convicted criminal as well. They’re just like, “Okay🤷🏼‍♀️”. Also, you can’t tell me that Lovegood!Reader wouldn’t totally brush Sirius’ fur in his dog form, even long after he’s revealed who he is. Whenever the Reader brings the brush out he immediately transforms into his dog form and allows them to brush away to their hearts content. And you know damn well he revels in the pampering, both due to having not had any real physical contact let alone a gentle touch in so many years and desperately craving some much needed attention/affection.

Also, Sirius and Remus would definitely grow very attached to receiving head pats and hair ruffles from the Reader. I mean both men are completely touch starved and in need of some form of tender, love and care. The Reader would just be an utter godsend with their unconditional affection. Lovegood!Reader would always give some sort of affection to Sirius in his dog form since the first time they met and that wouldn’t change whatsoever in his human form either. Meanwhile for Remus, after the Reader confronted him about his being a werewolf they would always take to patting his head after that. Whether they it was in passing in the corridors or before and after class (whether it was their class or they just pooped in during another class to do so), the Reader would never fail to make a point to pat his head. Hell, they’ve even done it in front of other professors and even Dumbledore. I can’t help but imagine this short student on their tippy toes trying to reach out and pat Remus’ head only for him to embarrassingly give in and lower himself enough for them to achieve their endeavors. And at first, Remus is absolutely and utterly embarrassed, having on multiple times tried to get the Reader to stop doing that but when they actually did end up stopping or at least lessening the amount of head pats they gave him, Remus didn’t take too well without them. Especially when a full moon was rearing its ugly head. So he just came to accept the head pats as they were and happily took all that were given to him.

Can we just take a moment to talk about everyone else’s reaction to not only Lovegood!Reader patting a literal werewolf on the head when Remus ends up transforming but also having befriended a literal criminal who was believed to have been out to kill Harry? Literally everyone would be mortified, sure things end up working out in the end and Sirius is actually good but still! Hermione especially would be absolutely scolding the hell out of the Reader and going on and on about how dangerous it all was and the severity of what could have happened if Sirius was in fact a literal killer and out to murder again. Don’t even get her started on the werewolf bit. Meanwhile, Luna can only gingerly grab her sibling’s hand and gently smack the top of it, not dealing any real hurt or anything but similar to what you would do to a child who did something they weren’t supposed to. Honestly, this would only further prove to the people/other yanderes in the Reader’s life that they need to be protected at all costs and heavily supervised 25/8.

[nkirukaj]

Dognapped! (Hazbin Hotel OC One-Shot)

This is a comission for @michaelasworlds-blog! She asked me to post it here. Thanks for the comission!

Art by: @starlitsacrifice

Now, there weren’t many, but one of the few things that Alastor and Vox could agree on was that the dog needed to go. From the moment that Bean had received Barktholomew as a gift from Valentino, he’d been a thorn in both of their sides. Alastor called it “the beast” because he swore it lived to terrorize him. He was appearing in spaces that only Alastor would go, including his very private bedroom.

“What is that beast doing in my private quarters?” he’d ask Bean

She’d always end up exasperated “I don’t know! He probably walked in there by accident!”

“I ain’t never seen that dog walk,” Angel commented “Maybe that’s why he’s so fat,”

“Don’t say that!” Bean turned to the spider “He has body issues,”

The dog had even managed to get on his wife’s nerves! “WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL MY COOKIES??!”

“Oh were those your cookies?” Bean asked

Voe shot her a death glare “You ate them?” she asked, her eye twitching

“No! Barktholomew did! I didn’t know they were yours though,”

“You sat there and let your dog eat all of my cookies??”

“Well it’s not like I can stop him,” she shrugs

Voe inhales and sighs “You need to replace all of my cookies immediately,”

Bean whines, “That’s not fair! I didn’t eat them! Barktholomew did!”

Voe’s ear twitches “Is your dog going to pay for it??”

“Well, he can go into his savings account and try,”

“That dog has a savings account?!” Angel called from the parlor

Meanwhile, Vox hated him for a different reason. Not only did the dog being a gift from Val endear her to him more, but the dog served as his biggest competition! Vox could find Bean walking around the halls of V-Tower and give her a little twirl.

“Hey, I’m free for the next couple of hours, maybe we could do something together?” He’d ask, holding onto her waist

Bean raised her eyebrow and grimaced “Actually, I’m taking Barktholomew out to lunch!”

He let her go “For three hours?!”

She hits his chest “Don’t be rude! It takes him a while to walk over there,”

Vox had hit his limit, how was he, the leader of the Vees and the head of a multi-billion dollar empire in Hell, losing his girl to a dog? Something needed to be done about that mangy mutt, and fast.

Alastor was headed out for one of his walks, crossing through the empty parlor, his feet stopping on something solid and soft. He looked down, and there Barktholomew sat, blocking the front door.

“Hmmm,” Alastor muses as he kicks the feral thing in the side, and it falls over. He looks over the dog with disgust. Alastor turns to the television as it becomes full of static, Vox crawling out from the picture box on all fours. Alastor raises his brows at the sight. When Vox stands and dusts himself off, he looks up and finally notices Alastor standing there, and blushes.

“Oh, Alastor,” he clears his throat “What are you doing here?”

“I live here. The better question is, what are you doing here?” his eyes widen “Have you been sneaking in here? Defiling Bean? That is a child!” (Bean is not a child)

He scoffs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Vox crosses his arms, and his eyes widen when he sees Barktholomew on the ground “There he is!” he exclaims, approaching the animal.

The gears in Alastor’s brain turn “You’re here for this?” he points one of his thin, pointy fingers at the dog. 

Vox grabs him by the collar “This thing has been nothing but trouble for me,”

Alastor smirks “Then I suppose we can strike a temporary alliance,”

“Alliance? But I hate you,”

“Trust me, Vox, the feeling is mutual. However, it seems like our disdain for this…creature is of a similar level. So perhaps we can work together to dispose of it,”

“Work together?”

“Yes, Vox, do you have a limited vocabulary?” he glances down at his nails, not acknowledging the TV demon at all

Vox strokes his nonexistent chin “Work together? Fine then,” he sticks out his hand. Alastor is not amused. “What? Don’t you shake hands when you make deals?”

Alastor looks down at the hand in a disgusted manner “This is not a deal; you are lucky I’m willing to take your assistance,”

Vox pulls his hand back, embarrassed and angry. “Fine, then. How are we getting him out of here?” Alastor looks the TV man up and down. “Oh, you don’t seriously expect me to carry this thing by myself do you?”

“I do actually. I am the brains of this operation,”

Vox grumbles as he grabs Barktholomew’s collar and drags him out of the open door “Brains of the operation. More like brains of deez nuts,”

It takes them 3 hours for them to get to the location where Alastor was leading. Mostly because Vox was taking his sweet time getting the dog down here. Vox was out of breath when he finally stopped dragging Barktholomew by his collar, passing out on the ground. Alastor rolls his eyes and kicks him in the side. This part of Pentagram City had broken buildings and rampant crime. The dog wouldn’t last a day out here. Alastor ties the dog to a post.

“You can drop it there, old pal,” Vox mumbles something into the ground that Alastor doesn’t even pretend to care about before he shadows away. 

“Alastor?” Vox lifts his head “Alastor? Alastor!!!!”

The next morning, Bean is a crying mess. She’s snotting everywhere and using up all the tissues in the Hotel. Voe, Angel, and Cherri Bomb are comforting her on her bed.

“It’s all right, Latte, he’ll be back soon,” Angel rubs her back

“But where could he have gone?! We were supposed to have breakfast this morning!”

Voe looks at Cherri “This is a dog, right?”

Cherri shrugs “Maybe he went on a walk or something?”

“Without saying goodbye? He always says goodbye before he goes out!”

“This is a dog right?”

Bean flips over the plate of pancakes “It’s all a WASTE!”

Angel scoffs “I wanted pancakes,” he mumbles

Bean runs out of the room, stripping her clothes off “I’ve gotta make some calls! This is worse than 9/11!”

“You weren’t even there for that!” Voe called after her

“Any reason you took your clothes off?!” Angel yells out

“Wait! I’ll comfort you!” Cherri goes to run after her

Angel yolks her back by her arm “Sit ya horny ass down!” Cherri huffs and crosses her arms

Voe lids her eyes and stands. 

“Alastor!” Voe calls her husband into the room

“Yes?” he enters, his voice sing-songy with his signature grin plastered on his face

“I need to speak to you,” she pulls him out of the room where Bean was crying. When she gets him outside in the hallway, ignoring Bean still stripping, she confronts him “Barktholomew is missing,”

His grin widens “Oh, is that the good news?”

Voe squints at her husband “Please don’t tell me that you did something to that dog,”

“Fine, I will not tell you that I did something to that beast,”

“Alastor,”

He stands, resolute in his silence when Vox comes out from behind a corner “It was all his idea!” Alastor turns to him, his grin faltering only slightly

Voe is quite confused “Vox, why are you here?”

“I came to see Bean, but I didn’t know she was gonna cry!”

Voe stares at him blankly “You didn’t think that abducting her dog, which is like her favorite thing in the world would make her cry?”

Vox blushes and rubs the back of his neck “No…” he looks back up “But it was all Alastor’s idea!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alastor interjects

“Oh really? Mr. ‘Brains of the operation’?

“He’s simply gone mad, my dear,” Alastor says looking down at Voe, ignoring Vox entirely

Voe crosses her arms “Alastor I’m disappointed in you,”

“Me?” he places his hand on his chest

Voe nods “You need to find that dog and bring it back,”

Alastor rolls his eyes and sighs “Fine,” he turns to Vox and says coldly “You are a weak man, and that is why I despise you,”

When they return to where they left the mutt, the rope is broken, and there’s a streak of blood leading away from the spot. Alastor turns to Vox

“So shall we tell Bean the good news?”

“Fuck! What are we going to do?!”

Alastor looks down at his nails “We?”

“Yes ‘we’! We’re in this together!”

“That ended when you sold us out,” 

“Come on! Just do it for Bean, I guess….”

Alastor rolls his eyes “Well, since you asked so nicely,”

The streak of blood led them all the way to Cannibal Town.

“Oh! Lovely!”

“Cannibal Town? I don’t think I’m allowed in there anymore,”

“Yes, after trying to poach one of Rosie’s cannibals, I remember,” he takes a step forward “Let’s go then!”

When Alastor enters the emporium, Rosie is the first one to spot him.

“Alastor!” The Overlord spots the TV man, and her expression drops “Hello, Vox,”

“Rosie, my dear! Lovely to see you! We’re here to-“

She puts her hand up “Don’t even have to say it I already know,” she whistles. Alastor and Vox look around and see nothing, but when they look back down, there’s Barktholomew. Rosie, tsk “He told me everything, and Alastor, I’m disappointed in you,”

“Eh,” he shrugs 

“I fed him a few thighs, but he’s got a taste for venison. I don’t have any more for you, Alastor,” Alastor glares at the dog, who stares back at him with all four eyes. “How could you two sneak him off from his only family,”

“What?!” Vox yelled, “What did he tell you?” he got eye level with Barktholomew “What did he say???”

Rosie looks up at Alastor “He knows that’s a dog right?”

Alastor shrugs “I don’t know what he knows,”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Barktholomew and myself because now I have nothing to live for,”

Angel crosses his arms “She can’t be serious,”

“Why does she still not have clothes on?” Voe asks

Charlie is on the side, bawling her eyes out into Vaggie’s arms

“I can’t even find the will to wear clothes!” Bean cries into her palms, “Before we bury me, I’d like to read Barktholomew’s will,” The three of them look at each other in disbelief “To Angel, he left $10,000,”

Angel can’t help but smile “Huh?”

“And to Voe le left $50,000 for all the carrots he ate of yours,”

Voe raises a brow “Carrots?”

“That’s what it says here,”

“I’m sorry, did the dog write this?”

“What’d he leave me?” Cherri asked

Bean looks up “Hm? Oh he didn’t know you very well,” she looks back down at the paper

“That fucker,” Cherri mumbled “I’ve changed his water bowl more than once!”

“And now, we will begin the lowering ritual. Where I will enter the hole, and you all will bury me,” she climbs inside the grave, and Charlie sobs even harder.

“This is so sad!” the Princess cries 

Angel and Cherri dig their shovels into the ground. Voe gasps “Guys what the hell are you doing?”

“She asked us to!”

“Yes, yes, we have arrived,” Alastor looked into the hole “Please, put some clothes on my dear,”

“Why are you interrupting my memorial?” Barktholomew leans over the hole and Bean jumps out “Barktholomew! Where have you been? Please tell me you weren’t out getting drugs!” She looks down at him “Oh you,” and nuzzles him. Bean sees Vox face down in the dirt

“Vox!”

“Hmm?” he asks into the dirt

She approaches him “Did you find Barktholomew for me?”

He lifts his head up “Yeah…..”

“I can’t believe you would do that for me!” Bean kisses his forehead

“Believe it, baby,”

Angel and Cherri go “Ugh,” while Alastor rolls his eyes

Voe cries out, exasperated “She’s still not wearing any clothes!”

THE END

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #15 - Achieve

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #15 - You Pick - Achieve

Note: Part 2 of this story. Basically, what Briar does with the sheep his pup brought home!

When Briar woke up, he had almost forgotten the five strange sheep Jack had brought home the night before, literally into his kitchen. It had taken quite a bit of time to clean up. Tired, muddy sheep made quite a bit of mess, especially when they took to shoving their cute little snouts into everything. And Briar still had no idea where they even came from! Sheep weren't exactly overly common in the Black Shroud.

The morning chores were done fairly quickly at this time of year. The half-Elezen let the chickens out to forage, gathering the few eggs without surprise. This late in the year, the hens were mostly not laying. The sheep were next with each ewe checked and a bit of grain given before they were allowed to waddle out into the pasture. Ajax, the little ram, bounced after them, happy to stand guard over his little herd. The garden was checked and a few vegetables were gathered before Briar confronted the problem of the 'stranger sheep'.

So an hour after waking up, Briar was standing with his hands on his hips outside the fence. Beside him, Jack was sitting in the grass, short tail thumping against the ground as he grinned up at his master.

"So what were you trying to achieve?" Briar grumbled a little to Jack, reaching down to scratch the pup's ears. He wasn't actually upset with the dog. Jack knew that he was supposed to bring loose sheep home. Briar didn't expect the sheepdog to understand the difference between his sheep and other sheep, at least not at the moment.

With a sigh, Briar went to the shed to gather some hay to toss to the five yearling lambs who were wandering toward the fence, bleating at the half-Elezen. They were more skittish than his own sheep, but eventually, he managed a few gentle pets. There was one ram and four ewes, which made Briar wonder if someone's new herd of sheep had been stolen by his eager little sheepdog pup.

"I really do need to work on your training," he murmured to Jack, shaking his head. "But for now, I need to find out who these belong to…"

So Briar ate a quick, cold breakfast of bread and fruit before getting dressed properly for travel. Whistling for Jack, he sighed and headed toward the path, assuming Jack had taken the sheep along it. The hoofprints made it likely and he started to follow it back. Sheep weren't exactly subtle creatures so their trail was quite obvious. "You couldn't have come too far, right?" he asked Jack, who answered with a woof and a doggy smile.

Shaking his head, Briar continued, finding the main road that wove its way from Buscarron's Druthers toward Quarrymill. He ended up heading south, ears working cautiously. The roads were patrolled by Wood Wailers, but in Briar's mind, they were little better than the worst of bandits. So he occasionally squeezed his staff nervously, green eyes darting to look for signs of trouble or where the sheep had come from.

Near midday, Briar found a caravan that looked Ul'dahn in design. It was busy with several Highlanders, Hyur, and Lalafell working. One standing to the side with crossed arms seemed to be directing the others and happened to glance up the road to see the slim half-Elezen with the dog at his heels.

"You!" the Lalafell bellowed, surprisingly loud as he marched directly at Briar.

Briar halted, eyes wide as he stared for a moment. "S-sir? I don't--"

"Where are my sheep, you mangy cur?" the Lalafell demanded, pointing a finger at Jack as if he expected the dog to answer. "Thief!"

Briar flinched and looked at the sheepdog hiding behind his legs. "Sir? S-sir!" he managed louder, finally getting the fuming Lalafell's attention. "I'm s-sorry, but he brought them to me. They're f-fine and fed. No harm came to them."

"Then where are they?!" the Lalafell demanded, hands on his hips as he glared up at Briar. "Why didn't you bring them back?!"

Briar blinked, realizing that perhaps he should have brought the herd with him, but he'd been more focused on the mystery than anything else. "I w-was not sure what had happened so I was trying to--"

The Lalafell scoffed loudly. "They were clearly stolen! You want to keep them for yourself! Probably trained that dog to do it!"

Briar blinked, brow furrowing in confusion and perhaps a little offence. "I am n-not a thief," he said with a frown. "If I w-was, I would not have told you I had them."

The Lalafell bristled, pointing angrily at Briar. "You need to pay for them!"

"Pay for your sheep?" Briar echoed. "W-why? I can just go get them…"

The caravan master shook his head, hands on his hips. "No time! We have to get moving and we're already late! Plus, you might never come back."

"I would come back," Briar said, stiffening. "If I say I w-will do something, I do it."

"Even if that were true," the Lalafell said, clearly not believing Briar, but more worried about his schedule than a handful of sheep. "I don't have the time for such nonsense. I demand you pay or I'll inform the Wood Wailers."

Briar grimaced and flinched a little at the idea. The Wood Wailers had little use for those not born in the city, and even less for a half-breed. He did not wish to deal with them because most would just assume he was, in fact, a thief without even hearing him. A helpless frustration filled him and he sighed. "How much?"

When the Lalafell named a price that was far too high, Briar stared at him for a few moments and then shook his head. "No." While he was not very good at haggling, he knew what his sheep sold for and it was not even half of what the man was demanding.

"…No?" the Lalafell sputtered, clearly not expecting the quiet, firm refusal.

"N-no," Briar repeated. "That is not a f-fair price."

"How dare--"

"No," Briar said stubbornly again, in contrast with white-gripped knuckles. "If that is the price, I will return them. I w-will not pay that."

The Lalafell sputtered angrily but shut up as Briar lifted his chin. "I will go now and b-bring them to the Wood Wailers. You can talk to them to return if you wish," the half-Elezen said quietly.

The caravan master clenched his jaw and stomped his foot in annoyance. "I have no time for that! You--" He glared at Briar, who quivered a bit with nerves but stood his ground otherwise. The Lalafell glanced at the nearly packed caravan and muttered a curse. "Fine!" he half-shouted, naming a price that was less than half. "That's what I paid. That's what I want."

Briar stared at the Lalafell for a few moments before nodding. "V-very well," he said quietly, digging into the pouch at his waist. He was glad he often kept some coin with him when he travelled, just in case. The half-Elezen passed the Lalafell the demanded coin, who seemed irritated Briar had it at hand.

"Likely you meant to keep them the whole time," the Lalafell grumbled in frustration, but a quick count showed the coins were there. "Feh! Better to not have to deal with the stupid creatures anyway. Now, go away. And take that mutt with you."

Briar watched as the Lalafell stomped back to his caravan, breathing out a shaky breath as he turned and headed back home. He had only gotten a few steps when he froze and then glared down at Jack. "….Did you just somehow get me to buy more sheep?!"

Jack just grinned, tongue out and backside wagging as he pranced beside Briar. If Briar didn't know any better, he would say the dog was quite pleased with the outcome and the new sheep.

[acceleracers-baby]

The Metal Maniacs & Their Dog.

I might expound on this more later, but I just had a thought. What if one day while the Metal Maniacs were searching the junkyard for parts, they found a dog amongst the piles of “trash?”

———

Stray

Monkey was on his third set of bumpers this month. He had the worst luck when it came to his car. Usually, after a fender bender, he’d reshape the metal to the frame and call it a day, but lately the damage had been so bad that he couldn’t just brush it off as ‘adding character.’

That’s why he was at the junkyard. Well… that and Porkchop had been pestering him about getting some spare spark plugs for Old Smokey.

He was about elbow deep in a pile of trashed parts when he felt something poke at his back. He’d been tossing things behind him to make more room for his digging, so at first he thought it was something that had just slid back down the pile. But then it happened again…and again.

With a sigh, Monkey pulled his arms out from the pile and turned around to see who was bothering him. The who actually turned out to be a rather large and mangy looking dog. A Rottweiler with no tags and a comically large piece of metal hanging out of his mouth. Big enough to be Monkey’s new bumper actually.

The mechanic brushed his hands off on his shirt, which was also covered in grime from digging through heaps of garbage for the last two hours, and kneeled down next to the dog.

“Uh…nice dog?” Monkey called to it, uneasiness clear in his voice as he beckoned the mutt closer. “…drop it?” Another less than confident command, but the dog followed it without hesitation, barking in satisfaction as it did.

Monkey carefully picked up the near perfect bumper and walked it over to his car. The replacement bumper had been the last thing he’d been looking for so all he needed to do now was load up his finds and leave. There was only one problem. When Monkey popped his trunk and tossed the bumper in, the dog followed it.

“Hey!” Monkey exclaimed. “Get out!”

The dog did not. Instead, he paced around for a second or two, before plopping down and resting his head on the bumper. He did not seem interested in leaving. Not even when Money tried to coax him out with some left over chicken bones he’d had from lunch.

For a while, Monkey stared at the open trunk with the dog lying happily inside. With a groan, he reached up and closed the hatch and walked around to the drivers side door.

“Tork’s gonna kill me. How am I going to explain this? Hey guys- this dog brought me a bumper and then wouldn’t leave me alone, so let’s give a warm welcome to the newest member of the Metal Maniacs??” Monkey was grumbling. He did that when he was nervous. He didn’t stop grumbling until he reached the garage where the Maniacs hung out. Of course, everyone was there when he pulled up.

As soon as he popped the trunk, the dog came happily bounding out and began exploring the garage, sniffing everything in sight, including the people.

“What the hell, Monkey?!” Wylde was the first to say something about their uninvited visitor, despite kneeling down to pet the dog. The dog immediately lunged to lick at his face, and Monkey though for sure that Wylde would try and throw the mutt off of him, but despite his tense words, the driver looked like he was fighting back a smile.

“He hopped in and wouldn’t get out!” Monkey tried to explain, but by the looks of it, Wylde wasn’t listening anymore.

That was when Porkchop and Taro began to meander over to see what all the commotion was about.

“You brought back a dog?” Taro questioned, his eyes flicking between the hound and Monkey for a moment. He looked unimpressed, but all things considered, that was how Taro usually looked.

“I didn’t mean to he just-” Monkey was interrupted by Porkchop as the big guy leaned down next to Wylde and was the dog’s next victim. The mutt jumped up and put his paws on Porkchop’s shoulders before viciously licking him all over his face.

Porkchop bellowed with laughter as he tried to move his face away to speak.

“He reminds me of Baby.” Porkchop said through fits of laughter. Baby was Porkchop’s childhood guard dog, and now that Monkey was really looking at him, he did sort of resemble the pictures Porkchop had shown him.

“Huh, yeah. I guess he does.” Monkey agreed quietly.

Everyone was so caught up with the dog that they almost missed Tork finally approaching the group. He didn’t look too happy, but like Taro, that was par for the course.

“Thought we’d agreed about not taking in anymore strays.” His voice rang out through the garage as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the mutt. The dog was still having the time of his life, alternating between Wylde and Porkchop. “Get rid of it.” He said, fixing Monkey with a look that had the mechanic shrinking in his boots.

“I’ve tried. He just won’t leave!” Monkey tried to explain, but then, against all odds, Wylde jumped in to help.

“Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Just like I didn’t. He wouldn’t say it. Even if he laid awake at night thinking about how having the Metal Maniacs had likely saved his life. How Tork taking him in when his own brother’s actions, or rather inactions, had landed him behind bars for two years, had comforted him more than he’d ever let on. He was a stray once too. One that bit. They’d let him stay.

“I said no.” Tork reiterated, frowning down at Wylde. Wylde frowned right back until Porkchop spoke up.

“He’d make a good guard dog.” He looked scary enough to spook anyone dumb enough to steal from the Metal Mainacs. Plus it would be like having a free alarm system that you could play fetch with.

“I’ll help train it. Besides we were all strays once.” Taro chimed in, but Tork stayed silent. You could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for the dogs loud, excited panting.

Their leader pursed his lips as he surveyed the group. His strays. His people.

With a frown and a sigh he rolled his eyes and finally relented.

“Fine, but the first time that dog barks while I’m tryna sleep, it’s back to the junkyard, understood?” Tork said sternly, but the dog’s tail stayed firmly wagging behind him.

They ended up naming him Bumper, for obvious reasons. He fit in well with the group. He was protective, sweet, and made a good heated blanket when winter rolled around. He even grew on Tork eventually.

By the end of his first year with the Maniacs, Taro had him fully trained to help out around the garage. Needed something that wasn’t within arms reach? Just ask Bumper to fetch it. People parking too close to their cars at a meet? Bumpers got it covered with a few vicious sounding barks and growls. He even helps Porkchop through storms, curling up next to the big guy whenever he hears one rolling in.

In fact, he helps out all the Metal Maniacs when it comes to their mental health. All in all, Bumper ends up being a great addition to their gang of strays.

——— Thanks for Reading ———

[hamstergiukie]

Rescue J.YH

synopsis: rescuing a german shepherd hybrid from a fight ring turns out to be the best thing you’ve ever done.

this is a repost from my old account!

characters: german shepherd hybrid!yonghoon x reader

genre: angst, fluff, hybrid!au

warnings: dog fights, animal cruelty (i hated writing all of this pls;-;), blood

song rec: fighter by monsta x, beauty and the beast by the rose

notes: this is sort of a part one? i dunno if people like it i’ll make it a series but this was a one-shot idea i had. i’m also always willing to hear head cannons on hybrid!onewe, i would love to write some more in this au so:’)

it was a gloomy day for you, your roommate had moved out the week before and you were lonely, you were thinking about adopting a hybrid, although you had yet to find a hybrid that liked you. a close friend of yours had invited you to a ‘hybrid party,’ you highly doubted that it was actually a party. or that it was legal, this friend had a tendency to like illegal things.

but at this point what choice did you have? you had gone to the shelter every week for the past month, not once had you found a hybrid that worked with you yet. you weren’t hopeful that the perfect hybrid would be waiting for you tonight. getting ready was slow and quiet, hope was slim. you had already decided that there would be no hybrid for you, no friend to keep you company.

your friend drove you to the ‘party’ but didn’t stay with you, they had somewhere else to be tonight. the warehouse you found yourself in front of was run down and unassuming. inside however hundreds of people were packed together, music thumped and people chattered excitedly in small groups. you pushed through the crowd to stand right at the front.

in the centre of the room, a large ring with floor to ceiling chains were secured to the blocks that made the ring. you weren’t sure if the chains were meant to keep onlookers out, or something in. a moment later two cages were pulled into the middle of the ring. your heart dropped. this definitely was not a party, it was a hybrid fight ring.

there was a reason hybrid fight rings are illegal, they’re vicious and violent. hybrids are treated horribly, and are forced to fight. you felt sick to your stomach, you wanted to leave immediately but something about the eyes of the hybrid staring at you from one of the cages rooted you to your spot. the doors of the cages opened and both hybrids shot out, one a mangy looking dog hybrid and the other a beautiful, glossy german shepherd hybrid.

the shepherd hybrid was the one that was staring at you, he was beautiful. he was running from the other hybrid, it was like he didn’t want to fight. they ran in circles around the ring for a few minutes before the other dog lunged and caught the german shepherd’s leg. he yelped and fell. after that you could barely watch.

the mangy dog hybrid won, and the german shepherd was left whimpering in the ring. you couldn’t leave him there, you navigated through the crowd once again to the security guards by the gate into the ring. “how much to buy the german shepherd hybrid?” you asked, the guard raised his eyebrows “you can have him, he has no use to us now.” he opened the gate and gestured to some men to bring the whimpering hybrid out. you sighed at the state of the poor pup, his body was shuddering every time he took a breath in and blood oozed from his wounds.

you brought the hybrid to an emergency specialist who patched him up, and kept him over night. the next day you went to visit him there. he looked at you, his eyes deeper than the ocean. “hello, my name is y/n, i brought you here. you don’t need to feel comfortable with me or anything i don’t expect you to want to come home with me-“ before your eyes he transformed into a tall man, a gentle smile on his face. “my name is Yonghoon, i would much rather stay with you then go to a shelter. i liked you from the moment i first saw you last night. please can i stay with you?” his big puppy dog eyes drew you in, and you found yourself nodding, “nice to meet you Yonghoon. of course you can stay with me!” you smiled at him, and he smiled back. 

[chaotictiamat]

CHOSEN

Summary: A quick tale on how Astarion found his fluffy companion.

A/N: This is just a fluff piece really. In my latest playthrough I made Astarion a Ranger/Rogue and he gets to summon a companion. I always pick the cat because he loves cats so much and I just could imagine this playing out. No idea what he would actually name it though! Thoughts?

____________

The boar’s blood did little to curb his need. It was infinitely better than the rats he had been forced to live off of but that hunger still gnawed at his belly. It was an always present reminder of just what he was…vampire. He sighed as he straightened out his clothes, doing a quick inspection to make sure nothing was amiss when he returned to camp. His traveling companions blissfully sleeping unawares and that is exactly how he needed them to be for the moment. He had a plan forming in his mind on how to ensure his continued safety and freedom, his thoughts briefly resting on the de facto leader of their merry little band. It shouldn’t be hard at all to seduce them. He recalled the way Tav’s eyes seemed to linger on him and the way they flushed at his more risque overtures. Yes, it should be rather simple indeed.

There was a rustle of leaves behind him and he turned sharply. Focused. Intent. Years of survival instincts rushing forward. His eyes scanned the surrounding area sharpening on movement in the underbrush. Muscles tensed, ready to pounce, and end any threat when the cat emerged from the foliage. The animals blue eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dark just like his own. The cat was carrying its own meal in its jaws, a small bird whose feathers were smeared in blood. It tilted its head at him, almost questioning. Astarion chuckled to himself, the tension flowing out of his body. “Apologies for disturbing your meal.” He did a mock little bow which only seemed to intrigue the creature who moved further into the glade.

He had always been more of a cat person than a dog. There was just something more noble about a cat than a mangy mutt. This cat seemed to preen at him under his scrutiny, giving its long tail an extra swish. “I hate to eat and run, but places to be. Do enjoy.” He turned then making his way back to the camp and his thoughts turning back to the seduction of Tav.

.

“Astarion?”

He pulled himself out of his trance when he heard Tav’s questioning voice, slowly emerging from his tent. There was Tav, bent over some cushions and pillows he had collected, a small smile on their face. And while he would have loved to have been the one to place that smile on their lips, it was not because of him. Oh no, they were smiling and running their fingers through the brown fur of a cat. A cat with blue eyes resting on his pillows outside his tent without a care in the world. The sound of purring reached his ears as the cat turned its pleased look to him. “Where did you find this lovely?”

Astarion blinked. Tav smiled. The cat continued to purr with an air of absolute smugness about it.

He quickly pulled himself together, barely a pause between Tav’s question and his response. “I was patrolling last night just making sure everything was alright. The only thing I came across was this little one. Though, I am not sure why it is here?” He nodded his head to the cat who at that moment decided to get up from his cushions. It stretched, little claws digging into the fabric of the pillows. “Don’t you tear up those pillows! They were hard enough to find in good condition as it was.” The cat paused, head tilted his way, and flexed his claws again giving the cushion he was on an extra dig. “No, no, no!” He tutted at the cat, reaching down to scoop it up. For being a random cat in the woods, the creature had soft fur that was surprisingly free of bramble and knots. It gave him an indignant meow, before seeming to settle in his arms, and Astarion suddenly found himself with a content purring cat that he was absently stroking his fingers through its fur.

Tav’s laughter mixed with the cat’s purring. “Well, it seems you’ve been chosen.” The laughter was infectious and he chuckled watching Tav walk away. Brown fur was mingling with his clothes and he would have to do something about that in the foreseeable future. “You are going to need a name.” The cat peered at him with a look that clearly indicated he could care less and to keep petting him. A smile tugged at Astarion’s lips as a small warmth grew inside him pushing the ever present hunger he felt away briefly. His mind thinking of various potential names for his new found companion.

Everyone always talked about the Chosen of gods, but he found he much rather preferred being chosen by a cat.

[hoboal87]

I posted 796 times in 2022

212 posts created (27%)

584 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sammysnaughtygirl

@writethelifeyouwant

@winchesterwhorehouse

@hoboal87

@awesomesusiebstuff

I tagged 302 of my posts in 2022

#dean anon - 96 posts

#talented tongue - 64 posts

#things have taken a turn - 61 posts

#sammy? - 48 posts

#sam winchester - 45 posts

#dean winchester - 34 posts

#wincest - 27 posts

#sam x reader - 26 posts

#smut - 24 posts

#aggghhh whats going on?!? - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 93 characters

#i have had enough of the late seasons sammy slander so have a collection of my fav moments <3

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Shadow

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, OFCs

Warnings: Fluff, just soooo much fluff, brothers being brothers, kittens.

Word Count: 2600

Summary: Sam finds a stray kitten.

Hey! I've written something! The last five months have been kinda crazy, but I promise I have more things in the works. This fic is unbeta'd so please excuse my tense issues. A special thanks to @synmorite and @writethelifeyouwant for dealing with this absolute fluffy nonsense from me. This was meant to be a drabble... but it got away from me. Inspired by this post

My Masterlist

It started with just one kitten. Sam was out on his morning routine, when he spotted the kitten, hiding (poorly) in a bush next to the bunker. He approaches it slowly, high pitched cries filling the air. Sam searches for a mama cat, or even siblings, but the kitten appears to be alone and abandoned. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, and fit in the palm of Sam's hand. It was a little mangy, dark fur matted and gunk in its green eyes. 

It purred as Sam held it close to him, the little thing had to be starving.He wraps the kitten in his sweatshirt, and makes the unwise decision to sneak the kitten inside. Once he has the stowaway safely in his bedroom he quickly opens his laptop and Google's 'what to feed

an abandoned kitten.' A small meow comes from the kitten, having unwrapped itself from the hoodie, and is now toddling across Sam's bed, clearly seeking his attention. 

He sneaks into the kitchen, trying to find something that will satiate the kitten until he can get to a store and buy proper food. There's some canned tuna-- who knows how old it is but figures that's better than nothing. He thinks about getting some milk, but remembers from the search that cows milk is actually bad for cats, that water is better. He finds a saucer, Men of Letters had all kinds of china stashed away that he or Dean hardly used and scoops a bit of the tuna onto it, and fills a bowl full of water. 

Dean eyes him suspiciously when they run into each other in the hall, but doesn't say anything. When Sam returns to his room, the kitten has made itself at home, curling up on his pillow, kneading the sheet, and purring loudly, well, he supposes this is his cat now. Dean's gonna be pissed, but his rules always involved dogs, not cats, Sam reasons, and puts the saucer and bowl on the bed, and watches as the strong aroma makes the kitten's head perk up, sniffing the air before clumsily making it's way towards the food, and chomping away. 

"Guess we need to get you a name," Sam's wonders outloud to the kitten, who is currently focused on the food in front of it. "Shadow?" He tests, it's not that original, he knows, but what else could he name it, Snowball? He even looks through a pet name finder, but 'Shadow' is the only thing that seems to stick, and he figures it could work for a boy or girl. 

A knock on the door startles Sam, and throws his hoodie back over the kitten in a desperate attempt to hide it. Dean's eyebrow furrows as Sam answers the door doing his best to make himself look like he's not done something wrong. Dean tells him that Jody's asked for some help on a case, a milk-run, but they've been going through an abnormal calm: they haven't had a case in weeks, and Dean has started to get antsy. Sam declines, he's enjoyed the quiet, plus, now he's got a kitten who needs him. Shadow nearly reveals himself by letting out a meow, and Dean seems to want to question Sam, when instead a loud, boisterous sneeze leaves him. Crap, Dean's allergic, Sam always thought he was lying about that.

"It's probably 'cause this place hasn't been cleaned in ages," Sam excuses. "Not since Mrs. Butters…"

"Yeah, well, it's not like we can hire a cleaning service," Dean sniffs.

Sam promises to clean from top to bottom while Dean's away, also formulating a plan to keep Shadow's presence a secret until he can figure out the right time to tell Dean. Dean says he'll be back in a few days, a week at most, and within a few minutes the roar of the Impala's engine fills the garage, and Sam knows he and Shadow are safe. 

"You almost got us caught, buddy," Sam chuckles as he uncovers the kitten, small remnants of tuna cover the kitten's face, he scratches the top of Shadow's head, as he laps at the tuna still on the plate. 

By the time Shadow's done eating, his little belly has rounded, and he climbs into Sam's lap as he continues researching, making lists of what he'll need to buy, and even starts looking into the local vets. He's glad he told Dean that he would stay behind when Jody called for backup on a case, he won't have to explain why he's suddenly bringing in loads of pet supplies. 

He decides to bring the kitten with him to the pet store, figuring the workers may be more equipped with helping him get the right products to make sure Shadow is getting proper nutrition. The kitten curiously inspects the car when Sam sets him down inside, sniffing loudly and even pawing at the dangling keys as Sam starts the engine. Shadow eventually settles on his lap, quietly napping as Sam makes his way into town. 

He pulls up to the pet store, and makes the realization that he has nothing to keep Shadow in while they buy supplies. He supposes that he could just carry the kitten, he only weighs a few pounds, if that, and he wasn't too squirmy, and figures that's his best option. The young girls are immediately in awe when Sam walks in with Shadow, the kitten letting out the tiniest of meows, clearly trying to bring even more attention to the pair. 

He doesn't even know where to begin. Food he rationalizes is probably the best place, Shadow, as much as he seemed to enjoy the tuna, probably needs something with more nutrition, and Sam remembers one search telling that abandoned kittens, especially those who are extremely young, need formula. Sam stands in the aisle, overwhelmed by the choices, until a woman closer to his age sees the confused look on his face. 

"You need some help?" Heather, the tag on her shirt reads, and Sam turns to show her Shadow, and proceeds to go on for nearly five minutes about how he found the kitten and doesn't know the first thing about taking care of a cat. When he finally takes a breath, Heather chuckles slightly, before showing him the basics. She gets him a small buggy, and helps him start to fill it. Formula and a syringe to feed him, wet food, dry food, food bowl, a fancy water bowl with a filter, a flea and tick bath after Sam tells her that as far he knows the kitten's only ever lived outside. She suggests gently wiping his eyes until a vet appointment can be made, and even gives Sam the local vets number.

They get to the section Sam was dreading most, litter boxes. Heather tells Sam that most kittens don't need much training to use the box, but expect a few accidents, especially once confirming that Shadow is, in fact, a boy. Heather then leads him to the toy sections, pointing out cat trees and other things that Shadow might have fun playing with. she even suggests that if Sam wanted to put in the time and effort, he could even train the kitten to eventually go on walks, though he thinks that may be a little too much.

By the time they're done, his cart is full, and Shadow has migrated from the crook of his arm, to being perched on Sam's shoulder, or at least he was until he lost his balance and made – what Sam felt had to be a terrifying for the kitten (and not for him) – six foot drop to the floor. Shadow just looked up at him and meowed  as if he was saying "I'm okay!" The girl behind the checkout counter struggled to suppress her laugh as Sam coddled the kitten, shushing him and giving him soft pets, almost like he was calming an upset child.

Heather assures him that Shadow will be fine, that young kittens are a little wobbly on their feet and falls are going to happen. Sam offers a half smile to the girl behind the counter, making her blush, as he continues to fuss over the kitten.

An hour later, Sam's set up a cat tree in one corner of his room, a litter box in the other, and gave Shadow a bath. The kitten was skinnier than he thought, and he wondered how long he'd been alone outside. Sam rummages through the bag to find the kitten formula, Heather suggesting that he could use it to supplement Shadow's diet between portions of wet food. He carefully mixes everything together, and grabs a small bottle, and Shadow immediately takes it, suckling down the whole thing in only a matter of minutes.

That night, Shadow ignores the plush bed Sam bought for him, opting to lie down so that his head rested on Sam's shoulder, kneading him gently and purring loudly.

By the time Dean returns, Sam has unfortunately forgotten that his brother doesn't know about the kitten until he starts sneezing every five minutes.

"I thought you were going clean, Sam," Dean grumbles between sneezes. He had cleaned, but then Shadow decided to escape Sam's room, and honestly, it's a miracle Sam found him.

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59 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#4

Don't Speak, Part 18

Pairing: implied Winchesters x F!Reader, implied Adam x F!Reader, implied Dean x Jo

Characters: Sam, F!Reader, Dean, John, Adam, Claire, mentions of Bobby, Ellen, Jo

Summary: John's been gone for a month, and Y/N has yet to Sam and Dean her secret.

Warnings: Character Death, past miscarriage, pregnancy, implied affair, secrets, time jumps, naive reader, legal junk, bits of fluff

Word Count: <2k

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 17

The circumstances of John’s death still remain a mystery even weeks later. The first time you gently press for information, Sam brushes you off casually, but there’s an underlying anger that you can’t help noticing, and you quickly drop the subject. You don’t tell Sam about your pregnancy, never seeming to find the right time, not that you’ve had many opportunities; Sam has been all but ignoring you since he and Dean arrived home.

John’s funeral is a private affair, his ashes scattered over the grounds, and a surprisingly modest headstone is erected next to Mary’s. Bobby and Ellen, as well as who you assume is Joanna, hidden beneath an overly large cloak, are the only members of the staff allowed to attend. After the conclusion of the ceremony you walk back into the manor. Sam offers you his arm stiffly when you stumble slightly, and you take it, just in time to feel your knees giving out from under you; everything goes black and fogginess clouds your ears.

When you come to, you are in your bed; Adam, Bobby and Claire by your side. Bobby and Adam are speaking in hushed tones, but you’re unable to make out any clear words. Claire is rubbing the small swell of her belly with one hand, holding a book in the other.

“She’s awake,” Adam is the first to notice your flickering eyes. “Y/N– Mrs. Winchester,” he quickly corrects, “you gave us quite the scare.”

Your thoughts immediately go to the baby you hoped that you were still carrying. Clutching your stomach as you look up to ask the unspoken question that must be written all over your face. What if you’d already done something wrong in this pregnancy? What if your baby was already gone?

“Everything’s fine, Missus,” Adam soothes you.

“But– I fell– What if–?” Your breaths get heavier and your vision tunnels, as you struggle to take in the air.

“Calm down, Y/N,” Adam doesn’t correct himself this time, and sits down next to you. “I need you to breathe, Y/N,” he orders you gently. “Open that window, please,” he says to no one in particular, but Bobby is quick to move, letting in the cool Kansas air.

“Deep breaths,” Claire takes your hand in hers, and pulls it to her chest, letting you feel the rise and fall of her chest as you mimic her breathing. “It’s okay, Y/N,” she says softly, “listen to Dr. Milligan.”

Once you’ve calmed, Bobby leaves you alone with Claire and Adam, muttering something about keeping the boys away for the time being, probably remembering how you reacted to them the last time you were in a state like this.

Dorothy arrives late that afternoon, confirming your pregnancy to still be intact, but she suggests that you be on bedrest for the next few days. You ask Bobby to keep the news of your pregnancy a secret, claiming that now isn’t an appropriate time to tell your husband. Bobby reluctantly agrees as do Claire and Ellen, you couldn’t disappoint Sam again if you lost this baby as well.

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69 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

#3

Mine, Part 1

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jess

Pairing: past Sam x Jessica, past Dean x Jessica

Warnings: 1x01 adjacent, 10x03 adjacent, flashback, dub-con to non-con, smut, murder, pregnancy, obsessive/possessive Dean, creampie, rape by deception, mentions of arousal by murder/blood

Word Count: 3.1k+

A/n: this fic uses dialogue from 10x3. Demon!Dean refers to human Dean in the third person. Special Thanks to @writethelifeyouwant and @synmorite for brainstorming with me!

beta'd by @negans-lucille-tblr

"There’s no point of bringing your brother back now,” Dean grunts as Sam steps away, jerking against the chair. He’d play Sam’s game for now; how could he resist?

“Oh, I will bring him back,” Sam argues.

Sam just couldn’t let things go, but he was always the hopeful one, always saw the good in people, and now that Dean wasn’t human, he didn’t need to pretend that he was the good person that Sam believed him to be. Being a demon was freeing– letting loose, fucking whoever he wanted, killing whoever he wanted – despite Crowley’s insistance that he stick to those with contracts.

The dick who sold his soul just to have his cheating wife killed? Who was really the bad guy in that situation? Sure, Crowley was pissed, but both he and Dean knew who was really the stronger of the two, and Dean could easily overthrow him in Hell if he cared enough to do so. Once he was done here with Sam, he’d need to deal with Crowley. Dean isn’t dumb enough to think that he’s not the one who sold him out to his brother.

“See, where I’m sitting, there’s not much difference between what I turned into and what you already are,” Dean goads Sam, a look of guilt overwhelming his face as he realizes what Dean knows.

“I never meant–”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. That line that you thought was so clear between us and the bad guys, ain’t so clear, is it Sammy?”

Tears well in Sam’s eyes, demon or not, Dean knows exactly how to play his brother. “You took a guy at his lowest, used him and it cost him his life and his soul. You know what, you might actually be worse than me.”

Sam fills another syringe, and walks carefully towards Dean. It was only the second injection, and it wasn’t making him feel more human, it was only pissing him off even more. He’d give Sam this; he was persistent, and Dean could think of something that might get him what he wants. Dean’s darkest secret, something the human him would never allow to say out loud, not wanting to shatter the perfect image that Sammy has of his older brother.

“This isn’t you talking, Dean.”

“Sure, it is, Sammy,” Dean grunts. “A new model: lean, mean, Dean. No one to hold me back, I can do what I want, whenever I want. And you know what I want, little brother?” Sam flinches slightly at Dean’s words, the familiarity seeming to physically hurt him. “First, I’m gonna tell you what really happened the night your little girlfriend bit the bullet, then I’m gonna do what your brother has wanted for so long, you know how obsessed he is with you? How much he loves you? And not that brotherly love, oh no, this sick motherfucker is in love with you. How fucked up is that? If he couldn’t have you, no one could. Think about it, Sammy, the second you try to settle down, and suddenly John’s gone missing? Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”

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84 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#2

Don't Speak, Part 19

Pairing: Sam x Dean, implied Winchesters x F!Reader, implied Adam x F!Reader, implied Dean x Jo, implied Dean x Claire

Characters: Sam, F!Reader, Dean, John, Adam, Claire, mentions of Bobby, Ellen, Jo

Summary: Dean discovers some family secrets in the wake of John's death.

Warnings: Wincest, gay sex, oral, daddy!kink, minor feminization, implied dub con, implied loss of virginity, legal stuff, deathbed confessions/secrets revealed, implied stillbirth, implied marital rape, implied incest (father/daughter), implied attempted infanticide, Mary is not treated well.

WC: 3.1k

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 18

Dean

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grunts as Sam swallows him down and tangles his hands in Sam’s hair, encouraging him to bob up and down on his cock. It’s the first time they’ve been together properly since returning home. Claire’s been especially clingy, wanting to spend all her time with him, and he wishes that she were more like Y/N in that regard, not pushing for any additional attention from Sam.

The feeling of Sam’s tongue around his cock and the obscene moans coming from Sam’s pretty little mouth makes Dean want to cum right down his throat, but he won’t, not until his baby brother’s been taken care of as well. Dean’s mouth waters as he watches Sam’s free hand disappear into his trousers, and notices the unmistakable movement of him stroking himself to hardness.

“Please, De,” Sam groans, popping off Dean’s cock. “Need you.”

“Not yet, baby boy,” Dean tsks, pulling Sam up to his feet, planting a rough kiss on his brother's lips, and replacing Sam’s hand with his own. Dean’s thumb rubs against Sam’s slit, and he uses his other hand to rid Sam of his trousers. A dull thud fills the room as Sam’s pants fall to the floor, before Dean’s rips off his shirt, exposing Sam’s toned and taut chest. Dean can’t help but let out a sigh of appreciation as he takes in his brother’s gorgeous body.

He plants kisses around Sam’s neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a number of marks, showing everyone who Sam belongs to. Dean makes his way down Sam’s chest, until he’s on his knees taking Sam’s leaking cock into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around Sam’s length, swallowing him down, hollowing his cheeks, until he can feel Sam at the back of his throat.

“Please, daddy,” Sam moans, and Dean’s cock gets even harder at the use of his new nickname. Dean’s hands make their way towards Sam’s puckered hole, rubbing it for a few moments before pushing in a single finger. Sam never needed much prep, and today is no different, but Dean loves working him open. He slides another finger in, scissoring Sam open, and sucking even harder on his cock until Sam is coming hot and salty down Dean’s throat.

Dean swallows down Sam’s seed, letting him go with a pop, before rising to his feet and planting his lips on Sam’s, letting Sam taste himself on Dean’s tongue. Sam’s needy, whiney, and exactly where Dean wants him, and he can’t wait much longer to sink his cock into his baby brother.

“How y’want it, Sammy?” Dean grunts, wrapping his hand around Sam’s cock again, stroking him back to hardness.

“Wanna see you.”

“On your back and spread your legs f’me,” Dean whispers as he walks Sam backwards towards the bed. “Show me that needy little hole a’yours.”

Dean kneels at the edge of the bed between Sam’s legs where he’s completely exposed. He leans forward to lick at Sam’s hole and pushes in two fingers. Once Sam’s ready and loose, Dean wets his palm and strokes his cock, standing up to guide himself into Sam.

“Please, daddy,” Sam begs again as Dean pushes in the tip of his cock, relishing in the feeling of his brother finally wrapped around him again.

“Y’want daddy to fuck you, baby boy?” Dean teases, leaning over Sam, his breath hot on his face. “Tell daddy how much you wan’ it, Sammy.”

“Please, daddy, need you to fuck me, make me yours.”

“So needy, baby,” Dean starts thrusting hard and deep into Sam. “S’too bad you aren’t a girl, then I coulda started breeding you years ago.” Sam moans at Dean’s words, clenching around his cock. “Keep you full of my cum, watch you grow round over and over again. We wouldn’t have to take on those whores as wives.”

In a swift move, Dean pulls out of Sam and sits back at the head of the bed, beckoning Sam forward with a flick of his finger. Sam’s eyes are lust blown as he crawls on all fours towards Dean. Dean expects him to climb on top of him, but instead Sam takes Dean’s cock in his mouth again, kissing the tip before swallowing him down. Dean lets out a sigh, there isn’t anything much better than Sam wrapped around him, whether it’s his mouth or ass, the only thing that comes close is Y/N’s tight little pussy, but even then, he’ll take his brother over those useless bitches any day. Claire, though, isn’t completely useless, she’s done her duty, at least.

Once Sam’s got Dean’s cock nice and wet, he climbs into Dean’s lap, jerks his cock once more before guiding it towards his hole. Dean reaches for Sam, grabbing his ass as he encourages Sam to ride him; nothing beats a needy slut riding his cock, whether it’s Sam, Y/N, Claire or Jo. Sam’s riding his cock like there’s no tomorrow, as if this may be the last time that they are together.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean moans as he feels Sam squeeze around him, sees his baby brother’s cock hardening once again. "C'mon baby boy, show me how bad you want it."

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90 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Don't Speak, Part 20

Pairing: Sam x Dean, implied Winchesters x F!Reader, implied Adam x F!Reader, implied Dean x Claire

Characters: Sam, F!Reader, Dean, John, Adam, Claire

Summary: Dean discovers some family secrets in the wake of John’s death.

Warnings: confessions, non-con touching, threats, fearful reader, implied m/m sex, implied non-con, pregnancy

WC: 2.8k

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don't Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 19

You find Adam waiting for you in your room when you enter. Your head is reeling. He isn’t the father of your baby. He’d all but told you he was, why would he lie to you? Why would he let you believe for well over a month that he, not one of the brothers, was the one to put a child in your belly.

He smiles when he catches sight of you, the two of you have been quietly carrying on since the brothers returned. But it’s not happiness that fills you when you see him, only anger and betrayal. You can’t control your hand as it connects with his cheek as he enters your space.

“You lied to me,” you accuse, your hand flying again, unsure of where your newfound boldness has come from. “You told me that the baby was yours.”

“I thought–” Adam tries stopping your hand in the air. “I was doing it for you, Y/N.”

“I’m not some fragile little girl, Adam,” you spit out, yanking your hand away from his grip. You’d never speak to Sam or Dean in such a way, for fear of retaliation, but Adam wouldn’t hurt you, not physically and certainly not intentionally. “I’ve been through more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know,” Adam’s face softens. “That’s why– I didn’t lie, Y/N. I just– I didn’t correct you. You were so happy, and with what happened with your last pregnancy– John told me to make sure that once you became pregnant, to do whatever it takes to keep you healthy. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You feel the heat fill your cheeks, maybe Adam chose to ignore all the signs that were in front of him all this time. He must’ve thought it odd, a prominent figure such as John Winchester hiring someone to impregnate his daughter-in-law, but maybe the promise of money, something Adam’s family was desperate for, made him look the other way.

“I wish it was mine, kitten,” Adam whispers, pulling you closer to him, and resting his hand on your bump. “And if you asked me to take you away from here, I would. It wouldn’t be some grand life–”

“I can’t leave, Adam,” you scoff. He didn’t understand, no matter who your baby belonged to you were, for now and forever, even more so than before, tied to the Winchesters. “Sam’s my husband– Dean– Claire– they’re my family now. What kind of wife would I be if I left? I don’t have anyone here except for them, I haven’t seen or heard from my parents in nearly a year, they could be dead for all I know.”

Adam nods as if he understands, but he can’t, not really. He may not know his father, but he still had his mother.

“So the baby’s Sam’s,” you state matter-of-factly, if Adam didn’t know about your relationship with Dean or John, you didn’t want to tell him, at least not this way.

Adam’s face scrunches. “Sam can’t be the father of your baby.” Maybe he knew more than he let on.

“How– how could you know that?”

“John–” your eyebrows furrow at Adam's casual use of John’s name. Very few people dared to call John by his name, even in his death he was still a man of high stature, and it felt wrong to hear someone outside the family refer to him with such familiarity. Bobby was the only member of the staff who dared to call him anything other than Mr. Winchester.

“When he hired me, he said he suspected that Sam couldn’t have children. Said that something happened to Sam when he was a baby, said he was cursed. I– I don’t know anything about curses, but there’s no good reason that a healthy man of his age should have issues impregnating his wife. Did John tell you to fuck someone else so that Sam could have an heir?” Adam questions gently.

“I’m theirs,” you mumble, “I’m their wife. I’m the one they chose.”

“Theirs?”

“Sam’s. Dean’s. John’s,” you can’t meet Adam’s eyes, too ashamed to admit that you’ve let yourself be used by the Winchesters for the last year.

“Were you– have all of them been sleeping with you?” Adam asks, taking a step towards you. You nod your head. “How long?”

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91 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

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[bigfootsmom]

for the wip game buck and daisy own my whole heart and neither of them are real

EEEEEE!!! YAY! I'm so glad someone asked about this fic because the concept OWNS MY WHOLE HEART JUST LIKE THEY DO!!!!! Its post Buck begins when Buck is seeing Dr. Copeland, and he's struggling with anxiety, panic attacks, and insomnia. Dr. Copeland suggest a service dog and at first Buck is like no way, I don't need that. But he looks into it and the idea seems better and better the more he thinks about it. At first he's super nervous, but he goes to Bobby to let him know and Bobby is SO supportive. Buck ends up adopting Daisy, a sweet brown pitbull with warm brown eyes (that may or may not have reminded him of Eddie's eyes lol).

“Have you ever considered a service animal, Buck?” 

The question surprises Buck, and he shifts where he's sitting on the edge of his bed, holding up his iPad. Dr. Copeland’s patient face remains neutral as she watches Buck through the screen, waiting for his answer. 

The thought of having a dog had always excited Buck. He had wanted one ever since he was a little boy, but had only asked his parents once for a puppy when he had found a bedraggled, mangy little thing trembling out by the garbage bins behind his school. He still remembers the look of horror on his mother’s face when he had lifted the little creature aloft and begged to keep it. That dream had been put firmly to bed. It was made very clear to him that no matter how much he asked, there was no way his parents would let him get a dog…He’s still not sure what happened to the stray puppy he had brought home.

When he moved to LA, Buck had thought about it some more, but his hours as a firefighter weren’t really the most conducive to owning a pet. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog if Buck got one, only to leave it home alone hours on end while he was at the station. 

“Uh, I thought about getting a dog for a while, but um, I’ve never thought about having a...service animal?” His voice pitches up at the end of his sentence, turning it into a question.  

Buck had heard of service animals before, but he didn’t know why Dr. Copeland would suggest one for him? It’s not like he has lasting issues with his leg, he’s not even on blood thinners anymore. All he can think of is the people that falsely claim pets as service animals and cause nothing but trouble for people with actual service animals. He shudders at the thought of ever being lumped together with that group of people. 

“I–I mean, what would I even need a service animal for? My leg is healed, and I–I can do my job just fine. My panic attacks aren’t that bad, and they hardly ever happen at work…” 

Dr. Copeland nods, taking in all of Buck’s thoughts before calmly explaining, “You may be able to function completely fine during your day to day activities, and while you’re at work, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t benefit from having that additional support.”

[powerosewaterpuff]

there aren’t enough jason is the oldest brother au’s and now i’m going to make them. this is a alternation of my au where jason is the oldest but in this specific au dick was robin first instead of jason, and he meets 14 year old jason todd in crime alley and they become brothers. jason literally looks at this little 9 about to be 10 year old and is like why the actual fuck are you not home rn? you need to go home and sleep it’s past ur bedtime. have u been doing it homework? literally jason is like if the fucking batman doesn’t take care of this kid then i will, and just adopts this kid as his little brother. (dw this is a good parent bruce au bc canon bruce is a piece of shit and i hate him) so this is a snippet of that bc i’m so fucking bored. also batcest shippers are disgusting and i need u to not interact or follow me bc ew. fucking ew. THEY ARE SIBLINGS. SIBLINGS. anyways here’s a little snippet!

Jason was counting the amount of change he had socked away from countless pickpockets when he heard little footsteps tiptoe over the lid of the overfilled dumpster next to him. He glanced up, and couldn’t help but give a crooked smile as the tiny mesh of obtusely bright colours gave him an enthusiastic wave.

“Jay!” Robin exclaimed, hopping off of the lid and into Jason’s arms, no matter the dirt and grime that coated Jason like a second layer of skin. He never knew how Robin could stand hugging him, it was like hugging a mangy dog made up of knobbly bones and excitable fleas. Yet, without fail, Robin would curl into his arms and Jason felt like he had the only family he could ever dream of wrapped around his arms.

Jason gave Robin’s hair a little ruffle as he slipped his cigarette out of his mouth, pressing it against the jagged bricks behind him to put it out. He never really liked smoking in front of Robin, the kid was far too polite to vocalize his dislike but he could tell from the way his nose scrunched that it was an issue.

“Guess what happened today?” Robin hummed, biting down on his lower lip in excitement with his barely contained energy seeking through. Jason propped a hand onto his knee and raised a brow questioningly, with that Robin went off on his energetic little spiel.

“I got an A+ on the test! The one you helped me study for last week! I spent all night looking at those little cue cards, the ones from Sylvester’s Stationary? I had all your notes written on them and I just kept droning, on, and on, and on to get it all to stick in my head! Mr. Jansen thinks I cheated! Can you believe that? He thinks there’s no way I could get an A+, that he even reported me to the office! I had to do a redo test right in front of them and I still got an A+! Ha! Take that Mr. Jansen!”

Jason has concluded a long time ago that story time with Robin was the best part of his days. He could be battered and bruised but still smile when the little twerp went on about his day at school. It made him ache a bit, just a smidge, because he wanted to be there with him. He wanted to be at school with his little brother, cackling at teachers and pulling all-nighters for tests. It was a silly dream, an unachievable image that kept him warm when the mounds of snow threatened to freeze his veins. He would just imagine this silly little dream where he had bedsheets, food, warmth and a little brother in tow that lightened up all his minutes.

Robin kept chatting, getting more animated by the minute as Jason interjected a few snide comments here and there to tease him. It was hilarious to watch Robin wag his little finger and tell Jason to knock it off. Robin was just so tiny. Jason couldn’t fathom how Batman could have the conscience to send this child to face the dirty underbelly of Gotham every night. Jason knew if he saw the Bat, he’d punch him. He would lose, obviously, and break a few fingers but he wanted to do it nonetheless. He wanted to shake that stupid fucking Bat and tell him he needed to keep that child safe. That little spritz of fucking sunshine needed to be focusing on school, not roundhouse kicking mafia grunts in Crime Alley so that they would stop hurting some street kid who was going to run off with their hubcaps.

“Jay, where are you going to sleep tonight?” Robin murmured softly as he began to unfurl himself from the ground after a while.

“Where I always do,” Jason muttered, because he knew this game that Robin played. He would try so desperately to get Jason to get off the street, because he swore that he knew someone who would take him in. Jason would scoff at Robins innocence. Once again, who let this kid wander around unsupervised?

Robin would ask this question, in hopes that Jason would concede and follow him, but he never did. It was an idiotic matter of dull pride and an untrustworthy nature that has been sown within the fabrics of his skin. No one was safe. Fucking no one, especially not adults that presumably were alright with a child running around playing superhero. Jason knew better than that, even if Robin didn’t. It was fine, he didn’t want Robin to end up like him anyways. A cynical husk of a person, a ragged little gnat desperate to survive on the scarps he could scour. It was fucking embarrassing, frankly. It was embarrassing that the kid he now had to admit, he viewed as a little brother, was offering to take care of him.

“Is everything alright with you? Everything okay at home?” Jason questioned lowly. He has to ask, it would gnaw at him all night if he didn’t. It was a constant. Robin would ask where he was staying and Jason would ask if where Robin was staying was safe. It was a ritual of theirs. A constant.

Robin gave a little nod and smiled that bright grin, “I’m fine, Jay!”

He ran into Jason for one more hug, and Jason curled his arms around him tightly, pressing his cheek onto Robin’s fluffed hair.

“ Please stay safe, Jason. Promise me,” Robin huffed, peering up at him with those oddly expressive white lenses. Jason didn’t say anything, he would never make promises he couldn’t give to him but rather gave a rueful smile. He’s trying, at the very least. He could never promise, though. It would just be a lie.

They stood like that for a minute, two brothers enclosed in a hug. Then, a little beeper went off and the little bird was swinging from building to building, a hole of an unattended promise weighing on his mind

this is kinda awful but i needed to vomit this idea out, i might cultivate it into a story on ao3 who knows but yeah that’s all for me i’ve gotten invested back into the batfam so get ready for some more stuff! i’ve got so much shit in my drafts oh my god

[marigold-hills]

june 1: incantation | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 546

Remus speaks carelessly. Mouth framing words like each sound is comfortably familiar – not rehearsed but known, something in his bones and blood and given to him by his ancestors. Broad vowels, silent t’s.

Sirius watches his lips move, the scar bisecting them stretch. Hangs on every dropped consonant like it’s a missed step in the dark. Something in him rejoices at the way Remus disregards elision: a flagrant defiance to Sirius’ childhood elocution lessons.

The joy of watching Remus speak is more than subversion from his upbringing – the moments when Sirius can do it like this (undisturbed and unnoticed)? They rebuild something in him he thought irreparably broken. He wants to fall asleep to it, make a cassette and listen to it on repeat, pretend he’s struggling with the material just to have Remus read to him.

There is something else, too. When he’s Padfoot and wants to chase a rabbit, a part of him feral and untamed – this want he can’t name occupies the same space. Something like this: to eat, to devour, to sink his teeth into flesh. Unnervingly, he thinks, he wants to hurt Remus.

“Cùram-slàinte,” Remus mumbles, “loiceadh.”

The part of Sirius that wants to bite him whines.

To hear him speak in English is a comfort. When he throws Latin-based spells it’s a thrill.

Listening as he builds incantations in Gaelic is the same as watching a storm approach with nowhere to hide. Sirius will stand in a clearing, wait for it to drench him, welcome each heavy raindrop. Thank it, afterward, if it deems him worthy to strike.

“Pads, do you have spare ink? I’ve run out.”

“Anything for you Moony, my love,” he jokes, endearment making Remus roll his eyes at him.

The library is quiet at this time of the evening. The other two of their four are playing Quidditch and Gobstones, respectively, as they always do on Fridays. Sirius keeps the days open, ostensibly so he can study (NEWTs are fast approaching, he should be). He brings his books along but doesn’t keep up with the pretends of actually opening them.

“You know.” Remus looks up from the borrowed ink pot, “you won’t get any studying done through osmosis.”

“Could do.”

Remus pretends to consider this. “Even if, won’t do you any good to learn this.”

He’s right, of course, as their Moony so often is. The dissertation he’s working on has nothing to do with Sirius’ work – Gaelic in the creation of new offensive spells is significantly different than his Exploring antimony and its reference as Grey Wolf in Ancient Runes. He doesn’t want to tell Remus he’s already finished his one (and got a tattoo to match) because then his excuse to hang out in the library would become even flimsier.

(Something he should consider: why the excuse and why the need to be there in the first place. Why watch Remus with such closeness, so differently than he does Peter, or James? But approaching these thoughts makes that feral part of him whine me a wounded dog, so he stays clear and indulges himself.)

“At least take your books out, you big mangy dog,” Remus laughs (sunlight falling onto old moss-covered stone) and reaches out to swipe a hair away from Sirius’ eyes.

NEXT PART

NOTES:

this is Part 1 of a 30 part series of standalone shorts which together make a larger story “The 30 ways you found me. Let me know your thoughts!

in the UK at the end of education equivalent to Hogwarts you can opt to do an extended project - essentially a semi large research paper on your chosen topic. I like to think it’s the same at Hogwarts, and that’s what they are working on here.

Oblivious Sirius is one of my favourites

[bansenshukai]

Idiot 1 and Idiot 2

actually answering that ask reminded me that I have this cute kkob oneshot (?) that's too short for ao3 so here ya go

_________________________________

Kakashi gestures sharply to the left side of his face, covered by a plain eyepatch. “If you didn’t give me your eye-”

“Shut up! You can’t give it back, I already gave it to you, no takebacks!”

“Well maybe if you had moved a little bit faster then-”

Obito shrieks with wordless rage, and throws himself bodily forward, and the two collide in a blur of uncoordinated limbs, rolling over and over like tomcats in an alley fight. There are teeth and nails involved, as their weapons lay abandoned by the training posts-- just like the orders Minato had given them earlier.

Minato stares. He definitely gave them orders to train, which he had overseen them doing peacefully before he left for a short meeting with the Sandaime. When did his trained shinobi squad turn into a handful of undisciplined children? He’s seen Academy children fight with more grace.

Rin huffs out a long, weary sigh. “I told you sensei, they’re totally impossible right now.”

Minato’s gaze catches on Kakashi, who has his tiny eyes narrowed in outrage because Obito is currently pulling on his hair. Kakashi slams an elbow back into Obito’s nose, which makes a crunching noise as it sprays blood, but that doesn’t deter Obito from viciously digging his nails into the soft underside of Kakashi’s knee before the two topple over again to grapple on the dirt.

“Wouldn’t they- confide in you? Maybe? Could you try to get them to stop?” Minato asks in desperation. Rin’s a sweet girl, and he knows she and Obito are best friends-- and after Kannabi, Kakashi’s disdain for her has smoothed out into more of a grudging acceptance. Perhaps his one female squad member could provide a little insight as to why two of his soldiers are acting like…. like, civilian kids fighting over a turn at the swing.

Rin crosses her arms, and manages to glare quite ferociously for all of her barely five feet. “Sensei, what makes you think I didn’t already try?”

She stabs a finger towards Kakashi, who’s managed to shove Obito’s face into the dirt, but at the cost of losing a chunk of his silver hair, which makes him look like a mangy stray dog. “He told me that Obito taught him what it means to be a good shinobi and he can’t ever pay Obito back for that, so he needs to make sure Obito has every bit of power he can give him regardless of his personal ocular health.”

Rin jerks her head in Obito’s direction, who has now flipped Kakashi so that he’s pinned down Kakashi’s shoulder while trying to ignore the knee that’s being rammed into his stomach. Minato winces in sympathy.

“And he said he knows now that Kakashi is a really good person and needs ‘Bakashi to stay alive’, which he can’t do without providing his personal protection, apparently. Because Uchiha dojutsu is soooo powerful.” She punctates this with an uncharacteristic roll of her eyes

“So they’re doing this,” Minato starts slowly, “Because they care about each other?”

Rin nods.

“Have you tried telling them about each other?”

Rin actually tears at her hair. Minato’s eyebrow climb up in an attempt to reach his hairline-- it’s the most frustrated he’s ever seen his gentle little student.

“Are you kidding me, sensei? They made me promise not to tell the other person about what they think! Both of them are completely convinced the other hates them.” She groans heartily, and slumps down into the grass. “You try to stop them, sensei,” she says grumpily. “I’m done.”

Minato eyes the pair, somehow still brawling, matching eyepatches scuffed with dirt, and coughs delicately. “Maybe, we can ah- try this later. When their tempers have cooled down a bit. Why don’t we go see Kushina for some advice?”

Rin looks at him skeptically, and he barely stops himself from shuffling his feet nervously, before she sighs and stands up to follow him. “Okay, sensei. If you say so.” She glances back at Kakashi and Obito, and shakes her head. “But it’s your job now.”

[admirableadmiranda]

Debts and balances: or how much does one man have to pay over the course of his life?

Good morning everyone! Today we’re going to be talking about debts, and why Jiang Cheng needs to shut the fuck up on debts because he is the one in the wrong pretty much the entire time.

Let’s start by acknowledging that I am not of this culture so I may perhaps state a thing or two wrong, but I also have several functioning brain cells to rub together and I pay attention so I will probably be more right than most of the “hot takes” I see on why Jiang Cheng is not actually in the wrong here. Because he is. He so is.

So, debts. First of all, there are multiple levels and layers of debts and to whom do you owe them too. So let’s start with the first one where the story is subtle about it and yet both Jiang Cheng and Madam Yu are in the wrong. We know that Cangse Sanren saved Jiang Fengmian’s life at one point when they were young. Life debts are big. To only be alive because of someone else’s actions is a debt that it is possible you will never be able to pay back. There are multiple stories of otherwise good people protecting the obvious villain because they owe that.

Jiang Fengmian’s only way of being able to pay back that debt after Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze die is to take care of their child and raise him how they would have. I.E, as a cultivator. This is not a debt that Wei Wuxian owes to the Jiangs. It is quite literally, the least of what Jiang Fengmian owes him and his parents to do.

Jiang Cheng cannot claim that Wei Wuxian owes them for his life. He is wrong. 

Next debt that even Jiang Cheng does not try to claim, only his ever so pleasant stans, the fucking dogs. The fucking dogs that he does not actually give a fuck about. 

Wei Wuxian does not ask anyone to do anything about the dogs. He is not in a mental state to. He is in a state of triggered phobia where his brain literally goes into run away screaming mode. This is also not funny and Jiang Cheng is a jackass for making fun of it whenever it happens. Jiang Fengmian is the one who decides that it’s better for the dogs to go. Even though Jiang Cheng is upset, he does not actually hold this as a lingering grudge against Wei Wuxian. He lets it the fuck go. And even if he didn’t, the resentment and anger should be aimed at the person who actually made a decision about it. Not Wei Wuxian. He does not give one singular fuck about his dogs later on. Let the fucking dogs go.

Third off: The Fall of Lotus Pier. There are different levels of blame that we can lay on this. Wei Wuxian is not close to responsible for this. Jiang Cheng knows this and elects to blame him anyway.

The first people we can lay the blame on the fall of Lotus Pier is the Wens, who came with ships, warriors, Wang Lingjiao to rile up the notoriously short tempered asshole Madam Yu, and Wen Zhuliu the Core-Melting Hand. They came prepared for battle and they got what they wanted. Madam Yu is the second one we can lay the blame on, for deciding to attack and demean Wang Lingjiao, not for making her do anything she didn’t want to do, because holy hell did she want to whip Wei Wuxian until he couldn’t move and leapt at the chance to do such a thing, but because Wang Lingjiao is a servant who was elevated by her lover and Madam Yu is a classist asshole. This is the only reason she flips out. Wei Wuxian did nothing wrong. Wei Wuxian does not have the blood of Lotus Pier on his hands, he is tied to Jiang Cheng and told to protect him at the cost of his life, a debt he does not owe. 

The four debt he attempts to claim, the only one that might be considered to have some teeth if it weren’t for how much Wei Wuxian gives him back almost immediately. Jiang Cheng goes to distract the Wens from Wei Wuxian and ends up getting captured and losing his golden core. So first off, in this world a golden core is a lot to lose, I won’t deny that. But, first off, Wei Wuxian is only in danger because after being whipped a lot, then strangled, then having to run after Jiang Cheng multiple times because he would rather go die at Lotus Pier than listen to either of his parents and escape, he still goes into town to get them something to eat because otherwise Jiang Cheng would rather lie on the ground and die. Fucking great sect leadership there, huh Jiang Cheng? But yes, Jiang Cheng sees the Wens, sees them notice Wei Wuxian, goes off to distract them and then gets captured and loses his golden core.

Now we’re getting to some of the debts that Jiang Cheng owes and refuses to pay back, because that’s definitely going to get him far in this world. Wei Wuxian in his panic and attempt to find Jiang Cheng, finds Wen Ning, who after some struggles manages to convince him that he can sneak in and get Jiang Cheng back out. In addition, he also retrieves the bodies of Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian. This is huge. Jiang Cheng now owes him both a life debt for again, saving his life at great cost to his own: Wen Ning is literally committing treason here, and also for restoring the lost honor of not being able to bury his parents properly. Wen Ning gives them a proper burial and later after the war he is able to lie them to rest in the Ancestors Hall so their spirits will be at peace and he will have fulfilled his fillial duties. By all means, the debt he owes Wen Ning in particular is so great that he should have taken in every Wen in those camps and sheltered them because it is as close as he will ever get to repaying that debt. And that’s just Wen Ning!

The next debt he owes and refuses to pay is to Wen Qing, a genius doctor and respected by Wen Ruohan, who uses the prestige and skills she has to protect both him and Wei Wuxian in at this point enemy territory when they are being actively searched for, being the new sect leader and head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. She hides them and then later uses her skills to give him a new golden core so that he can go and fight back against his people, revitalizing his clan and eradicating hers. This is another debt that could only really be paid back by protecting her people if she came to him. He owes her literally his life, his power and his people.

The third debt he owes and refuses to pay is to Wei Wuxian, who more than overbalances the scales back in his favor by giving him his golden core. He pays his chance at immortality, his power, his strength, his cultivation, everything that he has to his name so that Jiang Cheng won’t starve himself to death over losing his core. In addition, he tells Jiang Cheng that this comes from a once in a lifetime favor from his mother’s master so even before when he didn’t know about the core, this is still a massive, massive debt, a limitless one time favor from an immortal that he uses Wei Wuxian’s chance to get and never actually thanks him. So at this point, his own golden core as a debt starts to seem a little hollow. Either way, it’s been repaid. An action you do in service of someone else is not a weapon you get to hold over their heads for multiple lives.

Moving on! The next debt he would like to claim is that Wei Wuxian apparently has no right to do things he does not approve of. Excuse me? Is he now a computer program that crashed? What the fuck Jiang Wanyin? Wei Wuxian has less rank than him, although Jiang Cheng is so high rank in this society that he only shares his rank with three other people and there’s no one above him so it would be very hard for him to not be, but he is still a person, with his own thoughts, wishes, dreams, hopes and beliefs. He is not an extension of your hand, to make your clan look good and stand behind you as a hammer to smash on people. Wen Qing goes to Wei Wuxian to ask for help for finding her brother, her people because they are literally being tortured to death. This is a debt that by all means, Jiang Cheng should be repaying. See that part where Wen Ning committed treason to help him and restore his family’s honor? See that part where Wen Qing literally gave him the ability to go back to war against her family? This is the point where anyone with honor would recognize this is the only thing I can do. I will throw myself on my sword if I must, but I must repay this debt to them. There is nothing less I can do. But Jiang Cheng has only the honor of a mangy cur and ignores this, and when Wei Wuxian goes to fulfill this debt, he tells him to stop. To him, his multiple life debts are an inconvience to shoving his nose so far up Jin Guangshan’s ass that he’s tasting what he had for dinner that day.

The next debt that he would like to claim is the death of his brother in law. This is a debt that Wei Wuxian would owe to specific people. This debt is to Jiang Yanli, Jin Guangshan and Jin Ling, one of whom is wanting to forgive it, one who is too small to decide at the time, and one who straight up does not give a fuck beyond advancing his power. Jiang Cheng is not one of these people. His sister is fine, she’s not his concern anymore, she’s a part of the Jin sect. The only reason why he died is that Jiang Cheng decided the best way to repay his debt to Wei Wuxian was to throw a temper tantrum and declare him an enemy to everyone, ripping out every support from under his feet. Regardless, Jiang Cheng is an asshole and does not get to claim this debt.

The final one of Wei Wuxian’s first life that he keeps hurling at him is the death of his sister...the death of his sister who chose to leap between Wei Wuxian and a sword. The death of his sister at a battle that broke out because Jiang Cheng has been with Jin Guangshan whipping the cultivation world into a frenzy against the Wens and Wei Wuxian because of power and jealousy. The battle that would have not happened if they’d left them alone. Jiang Cheng has been to the burial mounds. He has seen the farmers, he has seen the baby there. He has decided that rather than do anything to repay these various deaths, he will kill them on other people’s swords instead. Because he is also a coward and won’t pick fights he can’t win. In addition he likes to steal Yanli’s agency, she’s the one who chose to come, she’s the one who chose to get in the way and she doesn’t die with regrets. And she is not his debt to claim. Again, the one who actually gets to claim this death that Wei Wuxian is not responsible for is Jin Ling, who actually shapes up and decides that it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t blame Wei Wuxian for it. He forgives him his role in that space and moves the fuck on, unlike a certain sir stabby grape mcwhipinnoencts.

And then Wei Wuxian dies and any debts he may have still owed to Jiang Cheng, not that there were any, die with him. Jiang Cheng has no claim on him, he was not part of his sect, they were not brothers in any way, indeed Jiang Cheng called him his enemy. Even most people with far more real grudges at this point would let it go. Wei Wuxian is so dead that no one can find his soul, no matter how hard they look. He comes back to life and reaps the rewards of his actions, finding new allies, getting the chance to actually interact with Jin Ling and make his apologies, and in the end, settle down to a peaceful life with an adoring husband and nothing left to be repaid. If there is still a debt he owes, it is only to Mo Xuanyu, who gave up his entire cycle of life to let Wei Wuxian reincarnate early with his memories, a sacrifice he only asked for repayment in the death of his family. He may owe more still, but that is all Mo Xuanyu wanted from him in repayment for this great sacrifice. The cultivation world is in the wrong when they’re trying to persecute him again for the actions of his previous life, he owes them nothing anymore. The debts he carries towards Jin Ling are the ones he chooses to take on, feeling guilty that he grew up without his parents due to the world’s general actions and also no one else taking responsibility for how far things fell. 

That is what Jiang Cheng finally realizes in the temple, crouched on the floor and sobbing like a spoiled child over the golden core sacrifice. Is that he is in the wrong and has been in the wrong the whole time. That there is nothing he can hold onto, no debt that Wei Wuxian ever owed him that he could demand to be paid. He built it all up in his head as he left his honor, his family and his dignity in the wake of his arrogance. And it’s a painful thing to realize, the consequences of your decisions, but all he can do is live with his own ruined reputation, his own loneliness and the fact that no one wants to be around him. He’s blacklisted by multiple matchmakers, his disciples are more like thugs, Wei Wuxian chooses every opportunity to get away from him and even Jin Ling likes him less and less over the course of the book, not forgetting that he seems to prefer Jin Guangyao to begin with as he actually talks to him sometimes and doesn’t hit him. Jiang Cheng refusing to pay his debts gives him exactly what a debt deserter deserves. No one has a reason to trust him. The one bit of positive character growth he does is giving up and not trying to reel him back in by telling him of the sacrifice. At this point, all it would be is just him trying to get another debt he cannot hold because it is long since repaid, never quite made up for what they gave him to make up for it, and worthless in the face of Wei Wuxian’s new life. Wei Wuxian owes him nothing and never has.

Also, just to tally up the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng on things given between the two of them, Jiang Cheng gives him: a lot of whinging on how unfair it is that Wei Wuxian is a prodigy, and a one time immediately regretted and held over his head sacrifice of a golden core. Whereas Wei Wuxian gives him: many lessons on how to be a kinder person that he ignores, the patience and tolerance of his stinkbug attitude, his love, his affection, his fucking golden core, his reputation, his blood, his livelihood, taking over his debts, trying to keep any of his actions from reflecting on the Jiangs even though if Jiang Cheng had repaid any of the debts he owed, there would have been no problems because if the Jin’s did decide to attack, Wei Wuxian would fight back and he can level battle fields on his own, his honor, his relationships, and even his life in the end, because if Wei Wuxian had ever turned on him like he claimed, he would have been a bloody smeared spot on the ground. And Jiang Cheng gobbles this all up and demands more with Wei Wuxian’s blood and tears dribbling from his mouth. 

Would you give that much for someone who doesn’t treat you well? Would you find that a reasonable price to pay for someone who demeans you at every opportunity, who tells you you deserve your misfortunes and that no one likes you? Why are you surprised that in the end Wei Wuxian would rather walk away with people who care about him, why he gives up, leaves any opportunity for anything in Jiang Cheng’s hands. Wei Wuxian has given more than any person should for almost nothing. It is a sign of triumph and victory, of recognizing his own worth and value in the world and who he wants to be with, that he leaves, that he walks away with his head held high. He owes Jiang Cheng nothing, and Jiang Cheng will just have to fucking live with that.