#i wanted to color this at first but if i did that i would have never posted this stupid comic so it is what it is

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous

The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.

You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.

Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.

You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.

They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.

Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.

You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.

Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.

Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-

And it only stops when your doorbell rings.

You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.

The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.

It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.

“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.

When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.

“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.

“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.

They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.

It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.

It gives you pause. It’s confusing.

“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.

Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.

He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.

“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.

“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.

“I’m fine.”

“Ye dinnae look fine.”

“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.

“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.

“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“

“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.

“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.

But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Love-“

“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.

Almost.

[atlasnessie]

hii i saw ur requests were open and i decided to make one :3, how the bsd men would act when they are lovesick? Like not yandere and those twisted things, but they just feel like a teenager boy in highschool with their first love, nothing else than pure fluff =w=" i honestly dont care which characters you add, but id really like to see fyodor in there ;P.

Bonus points if the reader is just so gentle, kind and pure with everyone ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა!! You can ignore this request, take your time. I hope you have a good day and thanks for reading me :DD

GOD, IM SO LOVESICK. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME ?

osamu and chuuya slowly realizing that they’re in love with you.

an: FINALLY FINISHED THIS OMG anon im so sorry it took so long also i’m … still unsure of how to write fyodor ughh ikk embarrassing !! hope this is okay nonnie :((

OSAMU DAZAI never had the chance of falling in love. everything ended one sided, a side that would benefit him and him only. he’s lived long enough to know that he was not worthy of such a delicate feeling; everything he has and wishes to have will all disintegrate as soon as he has it. dazai was not willing to risk it. not now, not ever.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

dazai can’t shake off this feeling when being around with you. he stands by the roadside of the sidewalk when walking with you, voluntarily giving his coat when the weather gets chilly, and surprisingly have enough money to buy you some good coffee (and not put it on a tab). he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he’s into you, but his thoughts wander off to wanting to feel your hands on his, to know how his first name would sound from your lips instead of his surname. and once he realizes he’s in love, he’s gone.

lovesick isn’t something dazai had ever felt. romance and osamu dazai should never be in the same sentence, they don’t belong together.

“you’ve been avoiding my texts, my calls, and now ignoring my knocks on your door ?” you stand in front of the paint chipping door, a bento in one hand and a finger pointing at his chest with the other. dazai looked terrible, his eye bags more apparent and the stench of alcohol from inside could make a lightweight drunk at the smell.

“ah, whatever do you mean —”

“you know what i mean, dazai. i’ve gotten calls from kunikida telling me that you haven’t shown up to work for a week ! he can’t even enter your apartment and he calls you every morning to check that you’re okay.”

you pushed your way inside his apartment before he could speak. this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in here, and was definitely not your second. or third. or fourth, or fifth, or however amount of times you’ve been here. dazai can’t remember.

placing the bento down on the cheap wooden table, the color of the lunch box was the only bright thing in the whole house. dazai quickly closed the door, almost tripping on your shoes before speed walking behind you. if he’d known you’d come in, in which he probably did, he would’ve cleaned and tided up a little beforehand. your eyes darted around the room before unboxing the bento.

“sit down. i made you something to eat.” your voice was quiet, but a little higher than a whisper. the aroma of fresh, real food made dazai’s mouth water.

“at your command, then.” dazai responded back, pulling a creaky chair and sitting, his eyes shining dull as he heard the sound of wooden chopsticks break.

“here, you eat. i’ll clean.”

“awh, i was hoping you’d feed me.” chocolate brown eyes met with yours, faking tears to brim out of his eyes as he lazily held the chopsticks, holding it as if he had never seen them before. an excuse. this was an excuse. not for you to feed him, though, he’d most certainly love that, but for you to not clean up the mess he had made. the cluster of sake bottles and canned crab made his apartment look less pleasing to look at.

“eat. i’ll clean.” your voice was persistent as you pushed the bento closer to him. grumbling, dazai pick up an egg roll and inspected it. how stupid, he thought. a toothpick shaped as a cat stood idle in the middle of the roll, its dark void eyes staring at his. it looks a lot like you, naive and ever so …

shit. thoughts like this shouldn’t be running in his head. you’re just a co-worker, afterall. right ? though … dazai has to admit; the food that’s on the bento tastes better than anything ever, and the soft hum of your voice lulls his worries away.

to be loved is to be known, he thinks.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA has no time for feelings outside of the port mafia, but you’re an exception. the sun sets slowly on the horizon of yokohama, and the wind is just right for a nice breeze. the picnic cloth is laid on the ground as chuuya swirls his glass of wine, watching as you talk about your day. you weren’t anything special, hell, it was total coincidence that you two even met.

a civilian and an executive of the port mafia. what a story to tell. but you weren’t aware of chuuyas profession, no, why would he break the trust that built up and took so long to gain ? he wouldn’t dare, he couldn’t.

“and then, while i was walking home today, i bumped into some guy and he was all like, ‘double suicide’ this and ‘double suicide’ that. scared the hell out of me ..!” you laugh and take a sip of your own wine and out of the corner of your eyes, you can see chuuyas shoulders tense up.

“he didn’t … he didn’t have some weirdass bandages all over … did he ?” chuuya grumbled as he pressed the wine glass to his lips, hiding his irritation.

“oh, he did. it was really weird.”

fuck ..!! chuuya though, grinding his teeth together just at the thought of that disgusting man. his thoughts of killing dazai were interrupted as you point at the sky.

“look, isn’t it pretty ?” you sigh, placing your hands behind you and leaning back. the sky was painted a radiant orange, complemented by pink and yellow. chuuya blinks and stares into the horizon, the corner of his eyes shifting back to you subtly. his chest tightens and—

oh, how he’s smitten. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the gentle rays of the sun, but his face feels hot and he leans closer to you, bringing up a hand and tucking in longer strands of hair behind your ear. you turn your head as chuuya stops midway, your hair falling out of his fingers. leaning back, chuuya coughs and plays it off, pouring himself another drink.

“sorry. looked like it was bothering you.” he mumbled, biting the rim of his glass before taking a sip, his gaze avoiding yours.

it’s the little things, but to him, he wants to do more than subtle hints of love. this is a start, at least.

[expirednukacola]

ORANGE COLORED SKY 🏜️ || Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆☆

My first fic about this bonafide work of ART! AKA The one and only, Cooper Howard / The Ghoul. This MAN has everyone lined up to get a taste so I am here to deliver! This is also a little surprise for @lexiway121!!! Reader is fem and in her mid-ish - late-ish 20s in this fic! This will also be a two part fic!! ..Maybe even more. SUMMARY: reader is little miss janey’s babysitter (cooper is going to need all the help he can get ESPECIALLY DURING A DIVORCE) and reader was invited to the kids birthday party (seen in the beginning of ep 1) as cooper’s plus two just to keep an extra eye on janey and the horse/sugarfoot. everything was nice until.. FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM!

chapter 1.5 : here!

og gif made by: @lousolversons !!

“Flash! Bam! Alakazam!”

“Out of an orange colored sky!”

The birthday party was going perfectly! You and Janey were standing somewhat near Cooper as he did his lasso tricks on his beloved horse, Sugarfoot. The birthday boy, alongside with his plethora of friends, were all staring and gasping in awe as the cowpoke twirled the lasso up and down to where he was inside of the spinning circle of rope. Cooper noticed their precious, little reactions and smiled back at his audience, a tender yet low chuckle escaping his throat.

Seeing how happy he looked and smiled as well, your cheeks became a tad bit blushed.. definitely from the L.A. heat — and that’s when Janey looked up at her and noticed how you, her babysitter, were smiling at her dad.. “Twitterpated..” -Was what the seven year old mumbled under her breath; she really needed to slow her roll on asking her dad what certain words meant. You, on the other hand, didn’t quite hear what Janey mumbled so you jokingly decided to peep out a little, “What was that, sweetie?” and all you got in response was an “innocent” little “Nothiiiiiiiing!”

After a few minutes of continuing his lasso show, Cooper got off his trusty stead and adjusted Sugarfoot’s saddle with such care while Janey rushed over to try and help her father. “Alright, birthday boy,” The cowboy said while looking at the VERY excited kid, “Let’s get a photo of ya up here on Sugarfoot.” As Cooper picked up the boy to place him on the horse while his daughter held onto the reigns, the birthday boy’s dad and his buddy, aka Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dipshit, start talking about Cooper Howard.

“Why the hell is Cooper Howard workin’ kids’ birthday parties?” The dad’s friend muttered as he held onto a bottle of some pretty cheap beer, and the dad responded with the most embarrassing answer known to man, “What else? Alimony.” The asshole said nonchalantly before he went back to nursing his shitty bottle of beer. That made Cooper whip his head around to look at the father with his mouth slightly agape, flabbergasted he would even bring that shit up at his kid’s party. To make things worse, sweet Janey popped up and asked the billion dollar question.. “What did they say, dad?”

Cooper looked down at his precious little angel with a quiet yet warm voice, “That I’m lucky to have such a good helper like you.” Poor, innocent Janey didn’t know what was going on between her Dad and Momma. All she knew was that she would have some very long weekends with her Momma and her Grandma and then she would go back to stay with her tired Dad.

Knowing what Cooper was going through and hearing those horrible words come out of that assholes mouth, you glared at the boy’s father so hard that he could fucking feel it. The dad looked back at you and rolled his eyes, pointing at you while muttering, “Some people say he cheated on his wife with his kid’s babysitter.” That was the last fucking straw and you wanted to smack the living daylights out of him. “Are you fucking kidding me, you goddamn pig-” You muttered but Janey quickly grabbed onto your hand with that same sweet smile she always had.

The anger that boiled inside of your body slowly began to simmer down into nothingness as you moved out of the way so the dad (AKA the head honcho of being an asshole) could take a photo of his son on top of the horse with Cooper standing next to him and little Janey holding onto the reigns, “All right- You ready?” The dad positioned the camera and even though the kid had a smile that was brighter than the 4th of July, the cowboy’s smile seemed.. off. Usually, Cooper would have these sweet dimples on either side of his mouth when he would smile real big for photos or when his daughter would do something extraordinary.. But those dimples weren’t there for these pictures.

Click!

After the photo was taken, the cowpoke carefully lifted up the giddy child from the saddle on Sugarfoot to the soft and lush green grass beneath them. Cooper was just about to check up on you and his daughter, but- “Hey, honey- Honey! Get with Cooper. Let’s get a picture.” -Mayor Asshat of Assville motioned the man to stand next to his wife. Though Cooper was a little awkward about the whole ordeal, he quickly posed up next to the wife and had that fake smile on his face once more.

Click!

“Aw- Coop, Coop, Coop! Do your thumbs-up.” The jerkwad ordered and right as you were about to intervene, Cooper (sorta) stood his ground and quickly responded with, “..Yeah, you know, given the state of everything, I prefer not to, if that’s all right.” But guess what? Señor Shit-for-brains wasn’t having it because being an asshole was in his damn genes. “Why not?” asked Count Fuckhead-ula, “It’s what you’re famous for.” he added right after but his wife, the one with common sense in the relationship, told “Bob” to drop it.

“We- uh.. We gotta get this rodeo on the road.” Cooper said with his head tilted slightly downwards towards the vibrant green grass beneath his worn leather boots while the boy’s mother handed him a check. Quickly, you grabbed onto the reigns that hung from Sugarfoot’s neck and clicked your tongue to get the horse to start walking. “..Well that was just fuckin’ lovely, huh Sugar?” Muttering solemnly under your breath, you walked alongside the sweet stead, tying the beautiful horse up to a tree so it wouldn’t run loose.

A good 5 minutes roll on by like a tumbleweed and You were walking around with Cooper by your side.. while the two of you were picking up giblets of trash left behind by some kids and adults. “I never thought that I was going to be doing this at a kid’s birthday party, Mr. Howard. Picking up trash after people is not what I had planned.” You stood back up after having to bend over to pick up an empty bottle of orange flavored Nuka Cola. “Oh yeah? What did you have planned, missy?” Cooper looked over at you with one of his eyebrows raised up and a smirk growing on his lips.. those gorgeous lips alongside those beautiful hazel eyes- “Uhhh- I don’t know? Maybe mingle with some of the parents and swipe myself a piece of cake. I heard it was chocolate cake.” A little smile grew on your face but your blooming happiness all went to waste when you saw “Bob the Shit Talker” staring at both of you through the window.

“But for a grown ass man to talk shit about us with his lil buddy and then having us pick up trash left by him and his guests was definitely not on my list.” You angrily sneered at the man who continued to glare at you two through the window before letting out a loud and deep sigh. Cooper, God bless this sweet man’s soul, quickly stood up and looked at you. “He did.. what? I knew he was talking shit about me but he and Mr. Clean were talking about you? ..Fuck- It was that rumor again, huh?”

The sweet-hearted cowboy looked up at the sky as if he were silently praying to God himself to smite down that piece of shit before he looked over at your slightly blushed to make sure you weren’t boo-hooing over something that wasn’t even true. He knew you didn’t have to answer him because the look of embarrassment on your face was all he needed to know.. but at least you weren’t crying.

After a few minutes of some much needed silence, you both made your way back to Janey, who was eyeing that delicious chocolate cake as she wrapped her own little lasso around her hand. You saw how Janey was looking at that cake.. and you started to look at the cake the same way the little girl was staring at that frosted piece of heaven.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Janey’s words snapped you out of your hungered staring contest with the cake. You looked down at the little girl that was looking at her father, who was now crouched down next to her. “The thumbs-up.” Oh shit.. She just accidentally busted open a huge ass can of Marine flashbacks for Cooper. At first, he tried to make her forget about it by telling her it was “grown up business” but those sweet, sweet eyes of hers were just too much for his heart to handle.

You crouched down next to the girl and gently placed a hand on her upper back, gently rubbing your thumb against the material of her button up’s collar. “Honey.. The reason why your dad doesn’t like having his thumb up is because-” Your words were cut off from Cooper clearing his throat and placing a hand on your shoulder, immediately making you shut up so he could be the one to explain it to his daughter. The older man explained what they taught him when he was in the Marines to his daughter, telling her that he and his fellow marines would hold up their thumbs whenever a bomb would drop. If the cloud of smoke was smaller than their thumbs, they had to run for the hills.. and if the cloud was larger than their thumbs, they wouldn’t even have to worry about running.

“..Who wants some cake?” You chirped out awkwardly while standing up, brushing your hands against your top before placing them on your hips. Janey’s eyes immediately lit up with absolute joy from the thought of having a slice of cake, and she quickly nodded her head with her hands clasped together. “I’ll see if I can snag you girls a couple o’ pieces, ‘kay?” The infamous cowboy stood up as well and walked inside of the house and you decided to join him to grab your own slice of heaven.

FLASH!

Once Cooper grabbed his daughter a slice and you grabbed your own, you two rejoined his little angel once more but instead of seeing her sweet smile shining brightly on her face, you were both met with her holding up her thumb and a horrified look on her face. Her body was trembling, her bottom lip was quivering, her eyes were tearing up, and when she spoke, she sounded like she was looking Death itself straight in the eyes..

“Is it your thumb or mine?”

…

“It’s just a fire..”

You could hear the dread in his voice and the sound of her little heart pounding against her ribcage as you followed their gazes to a.. large cloud of smoke and destruction. Your own heart start to rapidly beat profusely inside your body and your eyes widened in terror as a wave of radiation started coming your way. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion as you and Cooper both decided to crouch down to clutch Janey close to your bodies to shield her from any harm.

As the wave finally passed through, the glass windows shattered into millions of shards varying from large pieces to microscopic fragments and felt one of the medium sized pieces plunge itself into the side of your calf. “Oh GOD!!” A horrifying shriek of pain found its way from out of your body as Cooper quickly scooped both you and his daughter up in his arms, quickly running towards his much needed horse, Sugarfoot.

BAM!

Dread pulses throughout your body while your eyes darted across the scene around you — Parents with their sons and daughters in their arms, people running around aimlessly like ants after a menace of a child stepped on their nest, and the screams and cries of frightened young children wanting to go home. You’re pulled out of your frightened state when Cooper tried to push you up on Sugarfoot after he placed his daughter up on the saddle. “Cooper.. Cooper! No!! Get Janey out of here! You have to get her out of here!!” You pushed yourself away from him and stumbled back, your limp leg giving its all to keep you somewhat supported.

“Y/N- Get on the damn horse! I can’t just leave you here!” He tried to pull you back towards him but you limped back away from him once more. “You need to get her out of here, Coop.. Please.” Tears welled up in your eyes and they fell down your cheeks when they became too heavy for your eyes to hold. “Please.. Go- Get out of here!!” You pushed him away and back towards the horse, and you swore you saw him shed a lone tear.

As more bombs fell from the sky, you watched in grief as your beloved cowboy hop on his horse and grabbed on the reigns, immediately whipping them a little to signal Sugarfoot to get the fuck out of there — away from the chaos and away from the horror.. away from you. You dropped to your knees as you bawled your pretty little eyes until there were no more tears to shed.. and when you heard the faint whistle of a bomb dropping nearby.

ALAKAZAM!

This was the end, you thought. The end of the world, the end of your life, and the end of everything and everyone that you loved.. and the beginning of a new age: The beginning of a nuclear fallout. As you kneeled down on the green grass that was way too vibrant to be real, you tilted your head upwards and looked towards the sky, smiling one last time before your skin began to burn, your insides feeling as if they were being cooked at a thousand degrees, your voice becoming rasped and broken as you screamed in complete and utter agony. You took your final breath of irradiated air underneath that hideous orange colored sky.

THE END ..?

—————

thank you so much for reading the first chapter of Orange Colored Sky! i hope you liked it as much as i did and i hope you can excuse the.. nicknames i gave “bob” at the beginning (he deserved it though! he was an asshole for absolutely no reason.)

TAG LIST: @lexiway121

[glitterjay]

FAKE DATING | 박성훈.PSH

summary: when two friends find themselves in need of a convenient arrangement, they make a plan to fake a relationship. what starts as a simple facade quickly spirals into a web of emotions. lines blur between what's real and what's pretend.

genre: fake dating, smau (with narrations), crack with fluff (kind of), hoon and reader are in their mid 20s

warnings: may contain smut, cussing, more to be added

in case of wanting to be part of taglist, please send an ask with what fic you would like to get @ for as I will make one list for each one. series masterlist

taglist (open): @drunkhee @minniejenseo @pkjay @sunghoonsgf @riizenextdoor @m1sskz @yorukoshii

you were deep in thought the whole ride to gunghoon's apartment. your parents kept trying to set you up with men from your father's work, who were incredibly old, and it was starting to bother you. giving in to the thought that gunghoon's mom was pestering him about his lack of a girlfriend, it made you think of something.

you shoot him a quick text saying you were almost there so that he could wait for you by the door. you had known sunghoon for quite a long time, but you were still quite shy to enter his apartment without him greeting you at the door.

he waved at you from where he was standing as soon as your cat entered his field of vision. it was quite a pretty and welcoming neighborhood; it never failed to put your mind at ease.

-

sunghoon had ordered takeout before you got there, which arrived with perfect timing just a few minutes after you did. after playing and eating for a while, you both settled down to have a can of beer on his front porch, admiring the beautiful sunset decorating the sky.

"must be tough, huh?" he asked, looking at the way the cars passed in front of his apartment. you simply gave a nod as an answer, knowing he could see it from his peripheral vision.

"i don't want to lose my life being attached to someone who would most likely ask me to grow up."

it was his turn to nod in response. you left the can that was in your hands on the floor, fidgeting with your fingers. sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to be lost in the colors of the sky.

"do you mind if i ask you something?"

it caught you off guard to hear him speak first. you were trying to find the right words to let him know of what you had thought about on your way here.

"not at all, go for it?"

"what if we started dating?"

-

you sat there in disbelief for a minute. sunghoon had taken a long sip of the beer he was holding, then looked back up at the sky.

"i mean, you don't want to date the men your parents are setting you up with, and i want my mother to stop pestering me. so, why don't we just fake date? it's convenient for both of us."

he was right. announcing a relationship would not only stop his mom from bothering him with those comments but could also make your parents give up on the idea of you dating older men for money.

"it's crazy what I'm about to say," you started. he snickered. "but I was thinking the exact same thing when I was driving up here."

"then i think that settles it."

first update, aaahh. im really excited about these fics and how they turn out. if they get attention, i might start making longer stories more often rather than just simple drabbles. but we'll have to wait, i suppose. please do leave an ask, comment, or reblog with your opinion on the update! I promise things get better. this is just the start, hehe.

[sainzzsturns]

Injured

j. bellingham x fem!volleyplayer!reader

warnings: injury

category: angst w comforting fluff

summary: reader gets hurt during one of her volley games

You played one of the most difficult positions ever, the libero.

That meant you had to give your absolute best 100% of the time, if you did anything wrong your team would immediately lose a possible point.

So obviously in game days you would be shaking with anxiety constantly, although your boyfriend, Jude, would be there to confort you.

“I get you completely, but don’t worry, you always do well, I’m sure this time won’t be any different.”

You walked in the stadium through the back to get in the locker room, you put on your uniform and knee pads and sleeves.

You hit the tip of your shoes getting comfortable in them as you stepped out onto the court starting to warm up with your teammates.

You locked eyes with Jude for a second, him giving you a reassuring smile with a thumbs up. Your two mutual friends, Vini Jr and Eduardo Camavinga there to support you as well.

The ref blew the whistle and your team started serving.

The game was going well till now, your team being ahead by 14x10 for the first set.

Suddenly a strong attack ball game from the opposite team, your teammate received it, but the impact made the ball go far from the court.

Instantly you ran after it tripping over some tables and chair which were laying in the corner of the court.

You managed to hit the ball sending it back to your team, although, when you got back up again, you closed your eyes and screamed in pain as you sat back down.

You looked at your ankle as it instantly started become red and eventually purple, it was also already a bit bigger than your other ankle.

Even though you had protection on, both your knees had also become colored and you noticed some scratches on your arm.

The referee blew her whistle when she noticed your position.

The medical team was called over and picked you up, setting you down on your team’s bench.

Three attentive boys came down from their seats to reach you.

Jude immediately grabbed your hand and rubbed your shoulders, watching closely as the medic examined your ankle.

“I’m so sorry baby, it’s going to be alright, I’m right here, just hold my hand.” He said, giving you support.

Vini combed some of your hair out of your face, wiping fallen tears every now and then.

Eventually the medic had concluded you had a dislocated ankle and a couple scratches, nothing serious, both injuries would heal soon with the correct care. He wrapped a boot around your foot as well.

Obviously you had to be benched, but even so your team managed to win.

Throughout the rest of the game you sat with your boyfriend, hugged on his side, sniffling from time to time from your past tears.

When it was time to leave your were still in a bad mood, of course you were happy with your team’s win but it still hurt not being able to play for a while, and need others’s support.

Jude handed you your crutches as you all made your way towards the exit.

Arriving home, Jude gave you a nice relaxing shower, after that, laying you down on your bed as he hugged you close, wanting to protect you from all harm.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, if I could take all your pain away I would in a heartbeat. Well, actually, maybe not this weekend because I have a game!” He said, earning a couple giggles from you.

“That’s alright, thanks for taking care of me.” You answered.

“It’s my job! And I’ll be your care taker for a long while, so get used to it.” He added.

Tiredness took over your body as your eyelids grew heavier.

“Good night, Judey” You murmured.

“Good night, love” He answered.

[navstuffs]

About Tradition and Responsibility

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x WifeF!Reader

Summary: You, a non-Jujutsu sorcerer, married the Gojo Satoru. After having your first child, the higher-ups demand to meet you and your first born son.

Warning tags: protective!Satoru, tiny angst if you squint, non-jujutsu sorcerer reader, no y/n usage

Author's Notes: hiii, i wrote this based on my own post, having one of my favorite tropes (protectiveness)! this might have a second part i haven't wrote yet, we shall see. enjoy your reading!

You keep your head down, trying to focus on the peaceful expression of the baby in your arms, your first newborn son, Kotaro. He is perfect, from his white curls to his tiny toes. You can't help but give him a small smile, your hands gripping his little body, promising silently to always protect him from any harm in the world. You feel so much love for your son that it is difficult to understand anyone who could find his existence wrong due to one ridiculous minuscule detail: when Kotaro opens his eyes, they are your eye color. Not your husband's vivid, ethereal blue eyes. 

Because of that, Kotaro Gojo is considered a waste of time—almost a mistake, but no one would dare say that in front of you or his father.

The door in front of you opens, and an older lady announces that the elders are ready to see you. You get up from the bench, bringing Kotaro closer to your chest. 

It is finally time to face your curses.

-x-

When Gojo Satoru decided to marry a non-jujutsu user, the higher-ups thought it was a joke. A good one especially coming from Gojo, who was known to do anything to piss off the hierarchy of the Jujutsu world, as if Satoru's whole existence wasn't on top of all that, as if any of those ancient and outdated men had anything to complain about the woman he chose as his wife.

However, when Gojo decided to proceed with this marriage, most were still shocked. They never thought Gojo would marry anyone, so soon, interest spiked in the mysterious woman he decided to marry. 

You wish you could tell your first meeting with the strongest sorcerer had been something glorious, but no. It was in your small candy shop, the one passed down to you by your parents from their parents. On a rainy day, that strange tall man with white bandages and white hair entered, sniffing the air like a hound dog. Gojo insisted on buying all the sweets you had on display, and instead of leaving, heard you explain how you made each of them, fascinated. 

After that day, Satoru started appearing daily, buying all the sweets on display by the end of the day. Gojo always mentioned he first fell in love with your cooking, but you didn't know when exactly you fell in love with him. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone understand those sudden chills around your body as if something had been watching you until Satoru entered the shop. He never found that weird at all. 

At first, Gojo kept you away as best as he could. You could sense curses with a chill in your body but couldn't see them (a blessing, for what Gojo described sometimes). And since you met your now-future-husband, as powerful as you could remotely grasp he was, Gojo was also the silliest and most annoying man you ever met. If you got upset with something he did for any reason, he would not leave you alone until you reassured him you weren't mad anymore. On top of that, Satoru was easily manipulated with sweets. Again, a big grown baby.

He never shared the consequences of what it meant to marry him. The letters started coming two months after the marriage, with your name on them, presenting themselves as chairpeople of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and they were eager to meet you whenever you could. Gojo always told you to ignore those letters, throw them in the trash, and burn them if you wanted. 

Then Kotaro was born. It had been a normal pregnancy, with the usual sickness in the morning and mood swings, but at least your baby was born healthy. You couldn't be happier, and Gojo couldn't be happier. The baby not having the same blue eyes didn't concern your husband, reassuring you that everything was fine.

Until it wasn't: the letter that made you come into this meeting with the elders without your husband's knowledge had a clear underlying threat in those polite words: You were to bring Kotaro for them to look at, or they would be forced to bring you in. Gojo had shielded you from this for far too long.

As soon as you enter the oval room, you notice the covers: you can't see any faces, but you are sure all stares are on you and your baby. Kotaro rubs his face against your chest, and you bring him closer, shielding him from their judgmental glances.

"Come forward." A masculine voice demands.

You walk in the middle of the room and stop. No one speaks.

"You wanted to see me?" You ask, surprised your voice isn't trembling. You wonder if they can hear your heart exploding in your chest. 

"Yes. We never had the chance to meet with the wife of Gojo Satoru; he has kept you hidden for a long time."

"I am sure he had his reasons." 

"Not that it matters who Gojo Satoru decided to marry, but his decisions impact the Jujutsu World, wanting or not." An older voice speaks, clearly angry with your disobedience. 

"And who would stop him from making those decisions?" You question, trying to sound courteous but instead sounding resentful. Satoru has told you about these higher-ups: focused on their old ways, not allowing anything that disturbs their way. Only their way is correct. Tradition. Anything that breaks from the fine formal line should be eliminated. "No one can stop Gojo Satoru from doing what he wants. As his wife, I should be the first one to know."

Silence. You breathe deeply, part of you still fearful of what is about to come. They have yet to speak about Kotaro, so you dread the inevitable moment. Now, something deep inside of you screams you should have told Satoru. What if you walked straight into a trap?

"Your child." A third voice speaks, and the whole atmosphere of the room seems to change when he mentions your son. You grip Kotaro's small body again, ready for what will come. "He does not possess the same eyes as his father, as we can see."

"So? It is not like every single member of the clan was born with six eyes." You ask defiantly.

"Of course not," The man snickers. "But this is Gojo Satoru's son. Haven't you thought about the consequences of having a child with a man like that?"

"Satoru keeps us safe! And if he isn't here, I keep my child safe. Never underestimate the love a mother has for her child."

"There is no doubt in a mother's love for her child. There is also no doubt that some might carry a heavy hatred for Gojo Satoru. If, for some reason, you were caught vulnerable…"

"What? What are you talking about?" Your voice shakes a little, but you keep yourself steady. For Kotaro.

"Many curses and even sorcerers have hidden and disappeared because of Gojo. Many fear him. When your husband was born, he altered the balance of our world. If there is an even remote possibility Gojo can't defend himself or, even worse, if you get pregnant again and this baby comes with six eyes…we can't even imagine how bad it would be the repercussions." The tone of false concern disgusts you. Sensing your uneasiness, Kotaro starts whining, and you start rocking him. 

You are not stupid. Those men didn't care about you or your baby's safety. They wanted six eyes that they could control, nothing else, nothing more. You haven't given any proof that you are worthy of being married to Satoru.

You don't get to answer because the door behind you opens, and all eyes are directed to the man behind you. You don't even have to turn around, your sixth sense telling you: Satoru. And he is pissed. He takes a moment to analyze the room in front of him, seeing you in the middle with your son in his arms, crying. His son crying. Gojo walks in, no blindfold on, without asking for permission (not that anyone was waiting for one), and ignores everyone as he stops right before you.

His blue eyes scan you and Kotaro from the top of your head to the feet, concerned. 

"Are you okay? Is Kotaro okay?" Satoru asks in a gentle tone, ignoring anyone around. You nod, starting to form an apology, but he shakes his head, calming you. "There's nothing to apologize for. You did well. You always do well. Stand beside me, okay?"  

You nod as Satoru forms a shield between you and the higher-ups. Surprisingly, Kotaro has stopped whining, feeling his dad is close by. No one speaks, and everyone seems to be holding down their breaths.

"So," Satoru's tone is calm, "who cares to explain how my wife and son ended up here?"

No answer comes, and you can sense the fear over the room, which differs from your husband's posture. Those who don't know him might believe in Satoru's calm posture, but you and probably the rest of the elders knew this was only a façade. In Satoru's veins, there is only anger. The only reason any of those higher-ups are still alive is because of your and Kotaro's presence. Not because Satoru would hurt you or his son if he had to kill them, but because he didn't want to shock you or accidentally make you fear him. You had never seen him kill before.

You don't know yet what lengths he would go to protect you and his child.

"We were just worried about her well-being, that's all." Some brave higher-up answers and Gojo snickers.

"Oh? More worried than her husband then?"

"You know, we had to meet her eventually. You kept her away from our world, your world, for far too long."

"And she was fine until you brought her into this. My wife and my son are none of your concerns."

"Not if she births a child with six eyes. Then it is our concern." Your body tenses behind Gojo, immediately causing him to react back, his murderous energy filling the room. If you felt it, those elders felt it as well, silencing them.

Kotaro starts crying again, sensing the threatening energy in the room. You had never felt such a destructive sensation coming from your husband before, but you managed to grab Satoru's arm.

"'Toru? Kotaro is scared." And you are scared.

The energy instantly leaves, and Satoru turns around, worried. You tremble with fear, and Kotaro bawls, tears dropping from his eyes. He instantly places his black blindfold on his eyes before taking Kotaro from your arms and gently rocking him. 

"Can we leave, please?" You ask, and Satoru nods, grabbing your hand with his free one. Before turning around to leave, he announces in a frightening tone to the entire room, "If I ever hear any of you trying to make any sort of contact with my wife or son, I won't be so merciful."

With that, Gojo Satoru pulls you away from that horrible place you promised to never see again.

-x-

Satoru dismisses the driver who drove you there. Instead, he takes you to his car, finding Kiyotaka Ijichi with a nervous smile when he sees you. You manage to smile back, and Ijichi seems relieved that you and Kotaro are okay. The ride home is silent, and Satoru never lets go of your hand. Kotaro is in the other one, sleeping safely in his arms. You can't bear to look at your husband, too afraid of what you are about to see: disappointment? Anger? He would be right to feel like that. You endangered not only yourself but Kotaro in this whole situation.

After Ijichi leaves you at home, you gently take a sleepy Kotaro away from your husband's arms. Satoru had this enchantment with your son, making him feel calm and safe. Like mother like son, you guess. You place Kotaro gently on his mat, watching as he gets comfortable. How careless of you to put your son in such a dangerous situation.

"Do you want to talk about this?" Satoru whispers, and you shake your head.

"I am sorry." To Kotaro. To Satoru. To yourself. "I thought I could—"

Satoru slowly closes the proximity between you two. He waits, watching the tears flowing down your eyes, sitting at your side, and when you hide your face on his shoulders, his arms are around you, bringing you to his lap.

"You had no idea."

"I endangered our son! Do you know how serious that is?"

"You would never let them do anything to him."

"How would I even stop them, Satoru?"

"I don't know, but I know you. You would find a way." Satoru simply shrugs, which sounds to him like the most obvious answer, and you don't know if you laugh or cry or his hopes on you. "Which would involve bringing me there."

"Yes, bring my most dangerous weapon: Satoru Gojo." You two chuckle low so you don't wake up Kotaro.

"Nothing will ever happen to you or Kotaro. I won't allow it. Be sure of it."

"They said you have enemies…"

"Who wouldn't dare to lay a finger on one stray of Kotaro's hair. Or yours. Come on, you don't have some faith in me?"

Remembering the amount of energy you felt earlier, you feel a chill pass your body. "I do, 'Toru. I was crazy enough to marry you."

"And would you lose the chance to be the luckiest woman alive?"

"With the most pretentious husband ever." You roll your eyes, feeling happy inside. The earlier one may have scared you. But you know this Satoru, back to his usual pretentious self. 

You get more comfortable in Satoru's lap, your eyes never entirely leaving Kotaro. He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed like that; he is Satoru 100%, except for his eyes. What blame did he have? You vowed to protect and love him as soon as he came out of you, no matter what came after him. And by the looks on Satoru's face, he also does.

Slowly, you can feel your eyes getting heavy as you become more comfortable in Satoru's arms—like a mother, like son. 

"Rest, my love. I will take care of it all. I will never leave you, I promise."

[saturnville]

bite, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross. warning: 18+ content song: bite by njzoma an: y'all know I don't write smut fr, so ntm. but I hope y'all enjoy it. wc: 2,498 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites

“Just because we’re attracted to one another doesn’t mean we need to sleep together. I’m off that. Plus, we’re friends.”

Anvika prided herself on being a woman of self-control and discipline. Though it did not come easy, years of abstinence grew dreary and at times, very lonely, her hard work was not something she was willing to risk. Her decision to step into abstinence wasn’t one she took lightly, nor was it one that she planned, but once Anvika began the journey of healing from a heartbreak, intimacy with another man wasn’t the priority. Though that had been over four years ago and she was well over the situation, she could admit that while it was difficult to maintain her self-control, not having to worry about anyone’s snot-nosed son brought more peace than she could ever imagine. 

“Even more of a reason to let it happen. Everything happens better when you have a solid foundation first. Everybody thinks you two are together anyways. He truly cares for you, in more ways than one.” 

Anvika hummed and rolled her eyes as she brought the slender champagne fluke to her full lips. The liquid went smooth down her throat. She shrugged. “Then let them think that. Lewis is a good man, a good and attractive man, but…”

Her friend, Onyx, sighed and downed her drink with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know how you do it! I would’ve lost my mind by now. I commend you.” Onyx bowed playfully which pulled a light laugh from Anvika. Though she was joking, she couldn’t help but sense the truth behind her words. 

Though swearing off men and intimacy had become a more common practice among women, many people found it taboo and unrealistic. She soon began to ponder--what if she’d never find anyone that could give her what she wanted because of how she chose to navigate her dating life? She shook it off internally. That would be a problem, but none that would be hers. 

Before she got the chance to respond, her phone rang against the glass table that held their expensive lunch on it’s back. LH flashed across the screen. She smiled softly which caught the attention of Onyx, who gave a teasing smirk. For someone who was insistant on keeping a strong boundary between herself and her closest friend, she surely smiled like a fool whenever he called. 

“I told you I have a lunch date with Onyx today,” she reminded the racer lowly, using her index finger to draw doodles in the condensation her water glass sweat off on the table. “Everything alright?” 

“Everything’s fine, angel,” he spoke smoothly. “Just wanted to make sure you were still wanting to join me for the event on Friday.” Anvika hummed and nodded as though he could see her. He was attending a gala in London and of course, offered his plus-one to Anvika, as he had done since their friendship had begun years prior. What was his, was hers, including access to rooms and events that would grant her opportunities to further her career as a branding and marketing consultant. 

“Yes,” she replied excitedly. “I still haven’t found a dress. What color are you wearing?”

There was shuffling in the background before he spoke again. “Blue. Don’t worry about it,  I’ll handle it.” Her heart fluttered. “Enjoy your lunch. Tell Onyx I said hello and call me later, alright?” 

Anvika’s teeth trapped her bottom lip. “Alright. Talk soon.” 

“Bye, love.” 

Anvika turned her phone on its face and looked up, catching Onyx’s playful eyes. Her thick eyebrow touched her forehead. “Friends, right?” Anvika gave her a look. Onyx raised her hands in defense, “My bad, my bad.” 

-

Lewis Hamilton was a gentleman. Sure, this was universal knowledge, but something about him being gentlemanly with her made her heart flutter and her stomach clench with desire. And it almost made her question Onyx’s point, “he truly cares for you; in more ways than one.” It’d typically be something she’d deny, but as she stood in front of the mirror with her hair done by a hairstylist he arranged to come, her nails done by a nail technician he’d flown out, and a dress he arranged to be custom-made to suit her body, how could she deny it any longer? 

“Don’t think too deeply into it,” she scolded herself, slipping out of her robe. She walked toward her dress, pulled it off the hanger, and carefully slipped into it. “You’re friends. Close friends who care for one another. That’s it, that’s all.” 

They met at the paddock six years prior. She was invited to her first Formula One race through her consultant agency, which took her team on an all-expense paid trip for their hard work. She wasn’t aware of Formula One, just of familiar names. Then, at the end of the match, she had the chance to put a face to the infamous name of Lewis Hamilton. 

“You raced well,” Anvika noted, taking in the slightly disheveled appearance of the raceman. “I’ve never been to a Formula One race; good job on giving me a reason to come back one day.” 

The man’s eyebrow raised in interest. He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscular build on display. “Is that so?”

Anvika nodded. 

“We can make that happen whenever you want.” 

It was Anvika’s turn to raise an eyebrow. A smirk played on her lips. “Is that so? Tryna be my friend, Lewis?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. Friends wasn’t too bad. Anything to get to know her. “Any man would be a fool to refuse that opportunity, Anvika.”

That marked the beginning of an inseparable union.

Anvika continued to mumble and grumble, doing whatever she could to keep her mind eased. Her self-conversations were halted by a knock on her door. Lewis. “Coming!” Holding her dress to her chest. She turned the doorknob, and the familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose. “Are you…oh. Oh.”

Closing the door behind him, Lewis’ eyes were trained on her, the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on. The dress, complementary to his suit, was perfectly designed and tailored to her. She was a fan of long-sleeved dresses, so that’s what she got. It was constructed with a heavy, luxurious velvet material and it hugged every riff, edge, and curve on her body. The neckline showed the swell of her breasts and her beautiful collarbone. The mermaid-like tail further accentuated her shape. 

Her hair was parted to the side and curled to perfection. The makeup complimented her features--thick eyebrows, full lips, and a round nose. And her scent, goodness, it suffocated him. The jasmine and almond notes filled his nostrils and he wanted to nuzzle his face in her neck and inhale like she was the air he needed to breathe. 

“You look beautiful,” Lewis managed to speak. His voice was so low that she almost didn’t hear his compliment. With a bashful smile, she thanked him and led him to her room where she wandered toward the bathroom, which had a series of jewels across the counter. “Help me pick a necklace?” 

Anvika turned to face the jewelry and fought hard to ignore the heat that radiated from Lewis’ body as he moved to stand behind her. From over her shoulder, his eyes followed the line of jewels the stylists brought. His eyes landed on a silver necklace; a thin chain with a multi-carat teardrop diamond. “This one.” 

Lewis took the necklace in his hands and placed it around her neck. Anvika lifted her hair to grant him easy access and shivered as his cool fingertips brushed against her skin. She inhaled deeply. “Stunning.” His breath was warm against her neck. They locked eyes in the mirror ahead of them. The tension was thick. Suffocating. His brown eyes, usually so full of love and warmth, were filled with something she couldn’t quite identify, but it made her body heat like wildfire. 

“I’m ready,” she announced, careful not to let her voice waver. She turned, purposefully ignoring the groan he released when she brushed against him. Her lips quivered as she tried to give a steady smile. What the hell was happening between them? Anvika placed her hands on his chest and soothed the non-existent wrinkles on his suit jacket. He was so handsome. “You look great, darling.” 

“Thank you…” his words came out as a whisper. He was too distracted by her. Six years of friendship and what he felt from the time he met her at the paddock all those years ago had reached a breaking point. He’d boiled over. 

Anvika tried to smile as she pressed a kiss against his cheek, but with how he reacted, her lips landed at the corner of his lips. She took a step back. “Let’s get ready to go, yeah?” 

Lewis swallowed thickly. He held his arm out for her, which she grabbed instinctively, and together, they were out the door with a million and one thoughts swimming between them. 

-

“And that beauty you’ve brought?” an older man questioned Lewis, who had his eyes on Anvika as she danced through the siloes of people in the room. The gala was nothing short of a popularity function, a random event on a random weekend for the host to flaunt their money and connections, Truthfully, his desire to attend dwindled once he saw her in that dress. She was the only thing on his mind. 

“Anvika Dawson,” Lewis said, nodding in her direction. “One of the best branding and marketing consultants in the industry. She’s amazing at everything she does. You’ve got a business, don’t you?” And that’s why he was a good friend, Anvika noted as she began to walk over, hearing him advocate for her in front of the man. 

“You flatter me,” she said with a smile as she took a position under Lewis’ arm, which slid around her waist. “Anvika Dawson, nice to meet you.” 

The older man, who had went by the nam Eli, shook her hand firmly and nodded in interest. “Well, pardon me, but the two of you would make a wonderful couple.” The young adult chuckled lightly; the comment was nothing new to them, but it seemed to bring them both discomfort given the fact that they had a very intimate moment just an hour before their arrival. Before Lewis could speak up, Anvika thanked the man sweetly then they were whisked in another direction. 

They were joined together at the hip for the remainder of the evening. And, on the rare occasion that they were apart, they stole glances from across the room like teenagers in a romantic sitcom. Soon, the event wrapped up and they were in the backseat of the car, sitting in a thick silence. 

Anvika sat at the right of the car, her knees turned inward and her legs crossed. With every bump in the road and swerve of the car, the tip of her heel brushed against Lewis’ leg. His breath hitched. She said nothing. 

The car came to an abrupt stop and the doors were opened for them. Before her foot could touch the ground, Lewis’ hand was awaiting. “Thank you,” Anvika said softly, and allowed him to guide her into the hotel. 

He still hadn’t said much. The walk to the elevator was quiet, yet, he hadn’t let go of her hand. What was he thinking about? If it was the sudden shift in their interactions, it didn’t go unnoticed by her either. 

The elevator doors peeled open and Lewis guided her in. He pressed the button, 10, that would send them to the floor their rooms were on. The elevator ride seemed slow as each ding indicated they’d entered another floor. 

Anvika cleared her throat and decided to speak up, “I enjoyed tonight. And again, you looked great. I love blue on you.” 

He couldn’t remember what happened between her compliment, her back against the elevator wall, and his lips on hers.  The only thing that forced him to key in was her hands pressing against his abdomen and his name falling from her lips. “Lewis…” What he’d heard time and time again in his dreams had finally become a reality. His stomach churned; could he get her to say it again? “What are you…” She cut herself off when she fell victim to the wonderful feeling of his lips against her jaw. 

“I just…” Lewis settled his face in her neck. “One night, Vi. Let me have one night with you…” Her heart pounded in her ears. What the hell was happening? 

“Lewis…” Her hand slipped and fell just above his belt. She extended her arm just slightly. “We can’t do this. I-I don’t want to mess up our friendship and you know I’m not going all the way with anyone--” 

Lewis hummed. His eyes sat low as he looked at her. She looked completely worn out as if he’d done to her what he truly wanted. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her lipstick was smeared, and her chest heaved. “Nothing will change for the worse, angel. And I don’t want to go there with you, just want to make you feel good…always have.” His left arm circled around her waist and his large hand palmed her backside. She whimpered. “Can I?” 

“Someone might see...” 

He ignored her. “Can I make you feel good?” His tone was stern as he repeated his question. Suddenly, the gala was out of her mind and the only thing that clouded her thoughts was him. Him and him only. Lewis Hamilton had infiltrated her mind and she finally stopped fighting it. 

The elevator dinged. “Yes…” 

-

“Should I…?” her hands reached for the necklace that shone beneath the dim lights of the hotel suite. Lewis shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a crisp white wife beater. He shed that too. Anvika’s breath hitched. “Keep it on. Lay back for me, angel.” 

Anvika looked like an angel surrounded by the comforter. Her undergarments were long discarded, save for her underwear which he kept in the pocket of his pants. The pure white of the sheets were a stark contrast to the richness of her complexion. Her hair was sprawled against the pillow with a few strands covering her face lazily. The look on her face was one of comfort, relief in one way or another. 

She welcomed Lewis’ body between her legs as he crawled on the bed and his lips against hers as he hovered above her. For the first time that night, Anvika’s hands didn’t tremble when she touched him. She welcomed the feeling of every ridge of muscle, every raised scar, and every mature tattoo. 

Their hands moved frantically over each other’s body, and it felt amazing. She hadn’t realized how touch deprived she was until she heard his chuckle in her ear. Her face warmed. She felt like a teenager. “It’s okay…” his lips ghosted against the shell of her ear. “Make all the noise you want.” 

Anvika didn’t respond--her mouth wouldn’t allow her to. As Lewis moved down her body, she sat on her elbows, watching and waiting. God, he was so handsome like this. His head was dipped between her thighs and his tattooed glistened under the dim lights. Slowly, he lips created an intentional trail from her belly down to the treasure just centimeters away from his mouth. 

Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as the anticipation rose. She was becoming impatient. He was giving attention to every other place except where he wanted her. She huffed. “Lewis…” 

He hummed, clearly unbothered by her frustration. He glanced at her, “Yes?” She whimpered. “Talk to me.” He was amused, very amused. She was desperate for him. It was evident by the way her arousal seeped onto the bed. He gathered some on his fingers, using it as a lubricant as he finally began to touch her. 

Anvika gasped. His movements were slow and meticulated but they were enough to set her over the edge. He brought his lips to hers again, which she accepted sloppily. Her jaw fell slack as he continued to work her to her first release of the night. It came quickly, quicker than she would have liked. When his fingers hit that spot within her, her hips jerked and she squeaked his name. 

Lewis chuckled, “That’s it?” He prodded that spot again. “Right there?” Anvika nodded. He removed his fingers. She groaned in frustration, “Lewis, please!”

“Please what?” He brought his fingers to his lips and moaned at the taste of her on his tongue. If this was just the beginning, he couldn’t imagine how mad he’d go in the coming moments. “Tell me what you want.”

She clocked it. He wanted her to beg. Anvika wasn’t the begging type. She may have been far removed from having sex, but she always got her way, especially with Lewis. Her hands trailed down the muscular planes of his stomach. Her fingers hooked in his belt and pulled him forward. Her fingers curled around his neck and her nails toyed with the faded hair there. She brought her smeared lips to his ear, her tongue dancing against the shell of it. He shudder. “I want you to make my legs shake and rock my world. Can you do that, Lewis?” 

Her voice. The way her voice dropped in octave but increased in seduction had his head spinning. There were a few moments of silence as he fought hard to gather himself and the more she spurred him on, the most difficult it became. But then, she heard it, “Yes…”

-

“Right there, right there! Oh my…” He was a lover of music. Being in a studio, creating melodies to go with lyrics, was his favorite pastime. But this took the cake. She created her a song better than he could have ever imagined, and was it addicting. 

Her moans, cries, and screams were melodic and his name was the only lyric she knew. He hated repetition in music, but loved hearing hers. So addicting. So well created. So beautiful. 

Her legs trembled around his head and her hands were buried in his braids. He fought the urge to bend her over when she whispered out the faintest, “Baby, please…” She’d used terms of endearment before, but in this context, it was different. “I’m close!”

Her body, damp with sweat and covered in bruises created by his mouth, jumped and jolted as she grew closer to her peak. Lewis sat up, replacing his tongue with his highly skilled fingers. He used his arm to stabilize his body as he hovered over her. What a sight.

Her hair was completely sweated out, pooped and frizzy at the roots. Her makeup stained the pillows and her lips were swollen from her biting and his intense kisses. Her neck was dark with love bites. Her eyelids were hooded but he could see the fire behind her eyes. If only he could capture her and keep the picture in his pocket forever. 

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered, kissing against her cheek and jaw. His fingers made quick work of the huddle of nerves between her legs. “Taking it like a good girl.” Her moans grew louder, higher in pitch, and full of air. It was becoming too much—her hands pushed against his arm, trying to run. “Don’t run now. Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“Lewis, I’m—“ she cut herself off with a high pitched scream that seemed to ring on forever. Lewis chuckled lightly and worked her through her orgasm. “That’s it, baby.” Her body shook as she tried to come down calmly.

He spent a few minutes between her legs, caressing her gently as an act of comfort. Her loud noises had diminished to soft whimpers as she came down from cloud nine. When she finally opened her eyes again, he asked, “You okay?” 

She was better than okay. Though they didn’t cross all the lines, Anvika had gotten the best orgasm she’d received in her life from a man’s mouth and hands. She’d deal with the consequences later, but in that moment, she felt amazing. 

She nodded and smiled lazily. “I’m okay. Are you…do you want me to…?” Her eyes fell to the evident bulge that strained against his pants. He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s get you cleaned up…”

-

What was supposed to be a shower to clean her up resulted in her on her knees giving him the most intense release he’d experienced in months. It left him panting, shaking, and whimpering like it was his first time all over again. 

Once again, she looked angelic with her now curly hair flat against her back and big brown eyes staring at him as she worked him like the expert she was. He came in her with with a groan, his fingers in her hair. She stood to her feet, smiling innocently as she showed him there was no remnant of him left in her mouth. 

“You’re nasty,” he announced, grabbing her jaw to place a sloppy kids on her lips. 

“Mhmmm, just the way I like it.” 

They migrated to her bed shortly after, laying together in a comfortable silence. Anvika’s head was against his bare chest and herfingers traced the tattoos on his body. Lewis’ arm was around her waist and his hand massaged her plump bottom. 

They were tired, exhausted even. But, they fought sleep like children, internally afraid of what the morning would bring. All actions had consequences whether good or bad. It was a mutual hope that what they’d done wouldn’t bring on the latter. 

“Lewis?” Anvika called after some time. 

“Yes, angel?” 

“Are we gonna be okay?” Her voice trembled slightly. They’d crossed a line--a big one. She had wobbled on her boundaries. There was a lot to discuss and a lot to consider. It was an amazing experience, she couldn’t like, but her biggest fear was that she’d lose him as an important person in her life if reality didn’t set in the way they intended. 

Lewis gave her a squeeze and brought his lips to her forehead. Sensing her worry, he reassured, “We’ll always be okay.” And she believed it.

[unholyhelbig]

https://www.tumblr.com/unholyhelbig/748001277238181888/ive-reread-the-entirety-of-oversight-again-and

i’ve done this as well. i think u should 😌😏😉☺️🥰

Title: Rose Colored Glasses [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): injury to nose & foot, slight blood, and shrimp

[a/n: Did someone request more oversight? Because I've got you covered. This is pure fluff, sorry for the lack of angst! It's short, and sweet, and not proof read because I don't have time :( ]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A quiet house was never a good sign. Growing up in the foster care system teeming with other wards of the state had taught you that. Often, you were three or four to a room. There were bunk beds with sheets slotted against the ceiling or stuffed under the mattress above your own, just for some type of barrier. It was an illusion of privacy, most of the time. Because houses like that were never quiet.

When you’d moved in across from Darcy after your 18th birthday, things weren’t quiet. Above you was a Latin-American couple that would wait until just past midnight to turn on a slow, rhythmic song and dance. Their steps were soft, and calculated. They carved out time for one another every single night between shifts. Just for the two of them. You often let the thumping base lull you to sleep.

The city was just outside your window. In the summer, you could prop it open with a brick and let the sounds of cars become a backdrop. There were sirens, and when the fire hydrant on the corner was loosened, the world welcomed a cold blast of water, sprinkling into the street. That was the opposite of quiet. That made your chest feel light, and warm.

After marrying Natasha Romanoff, you settled into the loudness of her home. Your home. Veronica was constantly running around the twists and turns of the bottom floor, Clint or Kate or Darcy galloping after her with a big smile on their face. They slowed themselves to make sure they didn’t break anything, but they wanted her to win, too.

Yelena often came with the muffled sounds of Russian techno bands coming from the headphones around her neck. It was a staple to find her in the kitchen with her head down, slicing into an apple from the backyard with precision unknown. Natasha would tug the headphones off to get her attention, or to send her into annoyance.

The night that Natasha got hurt was stifled with the sound of rain. It had soaked you to the bone, dripping onto the linoleum floor and then the carpet as you ascended the stairs two at a time. You’d been at the docks later than usual, the storm that had plagued the side of the harbor was relentless and delayed shipments.

The captain of the shipping boat your family had utilized for decades wanted to discuss something over whatever crap coffee you could beat out of the machine in your office. He spoke with a thick southern drawl, his mustache was encrusted with salt and sand. You had shed your coat and tried to warm yourself up by hugging your mug to your chest. Nothing seemed to work.

While you weren’t opposed to giving the man a raise, you were not the final say. Natasha was, and you figured he could use the company more than anything. The captain flicked through books that were on the shelf, taking two or three for his next journey out to sea. It was like clockwork with him, and you indulged his need for quiet companionship each time.

When your phone rang, you never looked at the caller ID. Those who were privileged enough to get your number knew to talk without any of the pleasantries that they were used to. Clint’s voice came through the receiver in a smooth, hushed tone that made you believe he wasn’t supposed to be calling you in the first place.

“Look, y/n, there’s been an… incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

He was meant to escort her to one of the many cocktail parties that Carlos LaMuerto was throwing at his mansion that bordered the same body of water that you resided on now. They were lovely get-togethers that you often attended with your wife. This, however, was the fourth one this month and your stomach was turning at the idea of another cocktail shrimp and lamb pate.

Clint had offered, seeing the desperation in your eyes. And while Natasha was reluctant, she ultimately agreed. No news of a bust had reached you yet, nor had a gun blazing argument. While the Captain licked his dry lips and scanned the books in front of him, you continued in hushed tones.

“Nat’s hurt. It’s not a big deal, you can finish up your business. She’s just being stubborn is all.”

An escaped sigh “I’ll be there.”

No shit, she was being stubborn. Your wife was bull-headed and wouldn’t admit to the smallest defeat. It eased your nerves slightly, and only slightly, that Clint said it wasn’t a big deal. No gunshot to the back, or knife to the throat. It wasn’t good enough, however.

Natasha would be upset that you tracked mud into the house and left your boots sloshing by the door. You were panting by the time you reached the double doors that led to your bedroom. They were, of course, blocked by Clint and Kate. Yelena was leaning lazily against the railing that was parallel. She regarded you with an uninterested stare.

“You did not have to come here.” She said, “We’ve got it handled.”

“She kicked all of you out, didn’t she?”

“What? She certainly did not!”

Yelena’s voice pitched with her lie. Kate’s cheeks turned an off-shade of pink and Clint just rthe hallway, that was a good sign. Still, neither of the two moved to let you into your own room.

“If you’re not going to get out of the way, can you at least tell me what happened?”

There was a muffled reply from behind the door. With the way that the voice flitted, you knew that she was trapped on the bed. Otherwise, she would have leveled you with a glare right here and now. The words were simple “Do it, you die.”

“Oh, come on,” You whispered harshly, turning your attention to Kate instead. She was the easiest to break. “Katie, what is the harm in letting me through? I’m going to catch my death if I stay in these clothes.”

“Catch your death?” Clint scoffed “What are you? A poet from the 1800’s?”

“I’m about to be breaking your fingers if you don’t-“

“You can’t even break wind,”

The two of your voices combined as you kept at it. You didn’t’ miss the wary look that Kate shot Yelena. One way or another, you’d get into your room. You refused to be banished to the couch again, especially in wet clothes. If you had to threaten ruining the rugs with your muddy footprints, so be it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You held up both of your hands, silencing the chaos of the corridor. “Nat, you are my wife, you’re hurt. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming in. Does anyone have any objections?”

Kate went to raise her hand, but Yelena yanked it back down and shook her head no. You tore into Clint with a look that could drop him dead. He relented and stepped away from the door. While you had a moment of peace, you walked into the dark of the room. She’d turned out the lights, save for the half-moon that showed a pale pattern against the carpet.

When you reached for the light switch on the wall, Natasha let out a noise that was similar to a wounded animal. You halted, your actions and made out her form on the bed. She was folded in on herself, her silhouette rigid.

“Baby,” you cooed, closing the distance between you and the bed. She grunted again, this time in pain. She attempted to turn away from you. You lowered yourself onto the sliver of bed, approaching the situation softly. “Can I turn on a light?”

“No, I’m hideous.”

You chuckled softly “I highly doubt that, my love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Natasha had never liked being vulnerable around you. It had taken a full weekend of you nursing her back to her feet after the incident on the pier for her to let herself cry. You held her for hours, her nose pressed against the small of your neck. She’d gripped onto you, as if you’d leave. But you never would.

Eventually, you saw her shadow nod. Before she could change her mind, you flicked on the lamp on the side table. It didn’t’ have a far reach, but the light was less harsh on the both of you. It was impossible not to notice the blood that had dried against Natasha’s nose, a split right down the middle.

You’d seen her with broken bones before, bruises that wrapped around her midsection. You’d put ace bandage around her ribs after drawing her a bath. This was nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, she often saw them as battle scars that would heal in a pink gash.

Her foot was wrapped up with a bag of peas and one of frozen carrots that Clint, or even Yelena had situated. There was bruising around her ankle, it looked painful and you internally winced at the coloring. She groaned into the small of her elbow.

“I want to die”

“Natty, it’s okay. This is nothing a cozy weekend inside can’t fix.”

She said something that was quiet and muffled by her arm. You didn’t understand her one bit, but she squeezed a single tear from her eye that you wiped away dutifully before it could reach the silk of sheets.

“What was that, baby?” You asked gently.

She threw both of her hands down and glared at the ceiling. Her fingers eventually found yours, squeezing your palm in reflex. Her words came out in a quick breath, “I tripped over a carpet at the stupid dinner party and hit my face on the catering table.”

You were effectively silenced. That was very un-Natasha. But lately, you and Clint had been pestering her about her eyesight, especially at night. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear. In fact, each time you brought up the idea of glasses, she would effectively silence you with a glare, or even a kick to the shin under the kitchen table if you had company.

You bit the inside of your cheek and ran your thumb over her hand. She clutched your hand tighter. Now was certainly not the time to laugh, and while you fought back the initial giggle, you were more concerned about your wife.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I bet you got right back up.” You said, pressing your palm against her cheek. “None of those fancy party types would dare question your influence on this city.”

“Shrimp went flying everywhere.” Natasha pouted.

“Everyone was tired of shrimp anyway, even the shrimp.”

She grasped at the collar of your jacket and pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips against your own. They were warm, the warmest thing that you’ve felt since getting caught in the passing storm. You were careful not to lean on her ribs, breathing in the rosewater scent of her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, running a hand up your spine. She grimaced. “You’re all wet.”

“Well now I am,” You smirked against her jawline, leaving a little nip in your wake. “You need to get glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re getting the sheets all damp, and you smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to the exposed part of her neck. You felt Natasha laugh too, using her hands to cover her face from the blush that was blooming against her cheeks. “We’re talking about me?”

She laughed harder, attempting to shove you off but you let your body go slack against her, not using your arms to hold yourself up anymore. “Yes! Go shower!”

“Mm, but you’re so warm.”

“You’re not going to be warm if I make you sleep on the couch.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling your head off her stomach and meeting her dark green stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. After the day I’ve had, I refuse to sleep next to my wife when she smells like a marina.”

Even while she said it, her voice was gentle, her fingers working over your scalp to brush the wet hair from your eyes. You pulled yourself up to give her another peck on the lips, careful to avoid the split nose and busted ankle.

“Fine, but only because you need more aspirin.”

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t believe I let you through my defenses.”

“Uh-huh. Get some rest. I’m going to go talk to your defenses about getting you an appointment with an optometrist.”

You turned to move towards the bathroom, already craving the warmth of a shower and some clean pajamas. Two steps from the doorway and you felt a plush throw pillow hit you directly on the back of the head. Natasha had amazing aim, always had, and always would.

You bent down and picked up the gold upholstered pillow, giving her a faux glare. “You’re not getting this back.”

“Oh, come on, baby.” She stuck out her lower lip “I have to prop up my foot.”

“You should have thought of that before you launched it at my head.”

 [Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad? 

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.” 

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you. 

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits. 

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier. 

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship. 

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode. 

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this. 

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.” 

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.” 

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor. 

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you. 

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you. 

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?” 

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him. 

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?” 

He nods. 

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand. 

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin. 

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?” 

His helmet nods in your hold. 

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty. 

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.” 

“Can I have that power over you?” 

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?” 

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together. 

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward. 

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole. 

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance. 

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself. 

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.  

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?” 

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know. 

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand. 

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax. 

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt. 

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure. 

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night. 

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him. 

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted. 

“Brightly.” 

“Can I make you shine bright for me?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now. 

He nods. 

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean. 

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship. 

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?” 

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.” 

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons. 

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.” 

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down. 

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.” 

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good. 

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin. 

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.   

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now. 

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later. 

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in. 

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat. 

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth. 

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him. 

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp. 

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs. 

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it. 

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole. 

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him. 

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer. 

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body. 

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor. 

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you. 

[tkwrites]

Good For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @gabelandeskog

Title: Good For You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Warnings: smut (18+ only), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), cum play (sort of?), if I missed anything, let me know!

Word count: 4,900

Comments: I live! 

After two heavy snapshots, steeped in feelings, I’m back with some good old fashioned smut (with lots of plot, of course, because I am who I am). Thanks to the many Nonnies who requested this. I’d already started writing it when you sent this, but your asks challenged me to combine both your requests. I hope you enjoy, and it lives up to your expectations! If you did enjoy, please let me know by commenting, sending in an ask or reblogging! I love reading your comments, asks and suggestions! 

Anonymous asked: hey! Another request idea… I was rereading the fic about Sarah being overwhelmed before meeting Quinn’s parents and when they’re talking about the WAG jackets, sarah mentions that they aren’t official yet. Can we get fic of Quinn officially asking Sarah to be his gf? Seriously love readying your stuff! 

Anonymous asked: I love how much you actually show the communication between Quinn and Sarah, it makes it so much more real and overall I just love your writing ❤️❤️ I noticed how as their relationship progresses, they decide not to use condoms. Will we get to see this conversation in the future? I'd also love to see when they officially decide to be together with labels and all xxx

Good For You

A Quinn & Sarah snapshot

“Hey, Quinn?” Sarah called, walking up the stairs. 

“Yeah?” 

She found him on the suede couch, reading a book. 

Sitting at his feet, she smiled when he moved them into her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay,” he put the marker in his book and rested it on his chest. 

Color flooded into her cheeks. 

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a nervous laugh at her sudden blush.

“I just,” she paused to lick her lips, trying to screw up her courage. “I wanted to let you know I had an IUD put in last month.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s the most effective form of birth control. It’s pretty much as effective as celibacy.” 

He paused, unsure where this conversation was going. When she didn't elaborate, he asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Just that you have it?” 

“Well that and —” she knotted her fingers together, “since it’s super effective, and we’re only seeing each other and have been for a while, I wondered if maybe you wanted to…” she trailed off. 

Quinn got the feeling he was supposed to know what she was talking about, but he was clueless. “If I wanted to, what?” 

Chewing on her lip, she guessed it was time to just spit it out, “I wondered if we both get STI tested, and only if you want to, we could try not using condoms all the time.” 

He felt his eyes go wide. “What?” 

“I mean, only if you want to. If you feel more comfortable with condoms, that’s totally fine.” 

“Are you joking?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. The book slipped off him and fell to the wood floor with a sharp slap. “Of course I want to. Did you think I was going to turn down that offer?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He moved to kneel, crowding into her space. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. “Can we try now?” 

A laugh split her mouth into a pretty smile, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him from leaning closer. 

“We need to get STI tested first.”

“I’m clean,” he said.

“As far as I know, I am too, but I would feel better if we both got tested, knowing neither of us has slept with someone else in quite a while.”

He looked crestfallen. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she hastened to add, “I’ve just heard horror stories of girls whose boyfriends didn’t know they were carrying something. Most STIs affect women, you know, and men just pass them along.” 

His eyes went wide, “really?” 

“Just another joy of being a woman.” 

“Thats bullshit.”

“Yep,” she agreed, popping the last letter. “So It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I really need that proof for my own peace of mind before I’d feel comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “of course. I’ll talk to Roman about it tomorrow.” 

“I’ll message my doctor,” she said with a shy smile, pulling out her phone. 

Logically, Quinn knew they needed to talk about this before anything could happen, but the thought that he might get to fuck her bare buzzed in the back of his mind so intensely, he wished she had waited until it was an actual possibility, even if that was impossible.

When he asked Roman about it between breakfast and video the next day, the trainer immediately went into crisis mode, “what kind of symptoms are you having?” 

“None. I'm just — I want to be safe.” 

He was going to tell him that the girl he was seeing — he was getting so sick of using that phrase — asked him to, but that seemed like it was putting all the blame on Sarah. While she did ask for it, he'd just never considered it something he should do. Now that he knew, he was more than happy to do it.

“You're sure? You can tell me, you know.” 

“I know. No symptoms. I’m just making sure.” 

Roman looked at him appraisingly. “Are you dating someone new?” 

Quinn was a bit surprised he hadn't heard about it. It seemed to him it was the only thing the guys chirped him about lately. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good for you,” he said approvingly. “Glad to know you're being safe.” 

Quinn felt a chagrinned smile spread over his face. 

“Well, I’m glad to know your girlfriend is safe at least,” Roman said with a laugh. 

How was it so easy for him to whip that word around? 

“Go to Doctor Jamison's after practice. I'll put in an order for you. They'll just need a blood sample.” 

The results took two days. By that time he was on the road. Thankfully, not for too long. Only one game.

He sent her a screenshot of the panel results. All negative, mercifully. He didn't expect to be positive, but he hadn't checked while he was with or after he broke up with June. 

She sent back a screenshot of her own test panel, also all negative. 

It was suddenly very real. The idea of coming home to Sarah was even more enticing than usual. 

He’d fucked girls bare before, he knew the sensations that came along with it, but he’d never fucked Sarah bare before. He’d tried, and she’d insisted on using condoms. He wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to give up sleeping with her. If that meant he had to wear a condom, he’d do it. 

Now that the possibility of making love to her without one was on the horizon, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. 

Looks like we'll be coming in about 2, he texted when they got to the arena. They'd fly home right after the game versus Calgary. Want to just stay at my place?

Wish I could, she wrote back, but I have class tomorrow at 8. I'll come to yours as soon as I'm done with work, though. 

“What's wrong, Q?” Brock asked, noticing his crestfallen expression. 

“Nothing,” he said, shoving his phone into his bag. “Sarah's just got class tomorrow morning so I won't see her until tomorrow night.” 

“Man, she's got you whipped.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, playing off the comment. If he protested, he knew they would just chirp him about it more, and there was no way he was going to explain his excitement to Brock. 

When the next evening finally rolled around, Quinn found himself pacing, a nervous excitement buzzing through his whole body. He’d never felt like this before. As if anticipation had been winding him up for 4 days straight. 

He’d tried his best to burn off as much energy as possible on a run that morning, but that felt like years ago now. Adrenaline was coursing through him by the gallon. 

He heard the elevator ding, and his stomach leapt. 

Before Sarah could scan in, the door flung open. Quinn was standing there, cheeks already flushed. 

She couldn’t help it, she gigged. 

“What?” 

“You’re just really cute,” she said.

Pulling her into the apartment, he resisted the urge to pull her upstairs straight away. Cool. He needed to be cool.

“Cute in a good way, right?” 

“Yes,” she assured, leaning up to kiss him. “In a very good way.” 

All of a sudden, the enormity of the situation crashed on him. He and Sarah had had sex 73 times, but this felt totally new. A frantic awkwardness took hold of his mind. How was he supposed to start this? Just like every other time? Every other time, it happened so naturally.  

“Hey,” she said, grasping his wrist, trying to stop the overthinking she could practically see scrolling across his face. 

He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Sorry. I’m so… I mean, I’ve never anticipated something like this for so long.” The words were falling out of his mouth before he really had a chance to think through them. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I’m not sure I have either.” 

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” he admitted. 

A soft smile took over her face. “Quinn, it’s me. We've already had great sex. This is just another step.” 

Nodding, he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Excitement reared in his stomach again, waging battle with his nerves. 

“I do think we should talk about it, though.” 

“Didn’t we already talk about it?”

“I mean, I think we should talk about what we want.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, what we're looking for.” She moved to sit on the living room couch, pulling him down with her. “I want to make sure we talk about it before we're in the heat of the moment so neither of us do something the other isn’t comfortable with.”

Quinn had never been with someone who communicated as much as Sarah. “It’s a product of the dead parents,” she’d told him when he asked her about it once, “life’s too short to not have the conversation.”

He sat next to her, “okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to feel you fuck me bare.” 

The frank way she said it made his whole body ring.

“And I want to feel you come inside me.” It felt dangerous and exciting to say it out loud, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. 

“Really?” Quinn asked, voice lilted with surprise. 

“Yeah. I've been dreaming about it,” she admitted. For the past few weeks, it seemed every time she would dream of him, the feeling of him filling her was so vivid that when she woke, her underwear would be soaked, almost as if she'd orgasmed in her sleep. “I'm guessing that's something you want, too?” 

He nodded. 

“Is there anything else you want?” 

He opened his mouth, then paused. 

She nodded, encouraging him. 

“I mean, there is something but it’s not a huge deal.” He was pretty certain she would at least consider it, but history had him trying to not get his hopes up.

“Tell me,” she urged, resting her hand on his knee. “I want to do what you want, too.” 

“I want to come on you,” he admitted, the words coming out all in a rush.

Eyes widening, Sarah couldn’t quite stifle the laugh that squeaked from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she hurriedly back pedaled, seeing the hurt on his face, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just — with the look on your face, I was bracing myself for something super kinky.”

“June hated it,” he said quietly. “She didn’t like cum at all.”

“So did you just wear condoms all the time?” 

“No. She didn’t like those either.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed together, an incredulous expression on her face. “You can’t have it both ways.” 

Something inside him unknotted. 

“I mean, did she insist you come in a tissue every time or something?” 

“Most of the time,” he amended, “sometimes I could come in her, but never on her.” 

June reminded Sarah so much of the mean girls she’d known throughout her life: content to demand things of others, knowing their social currency was enough to purchase obedience to all of those ridiculous rules. Part of her wondered if June even disliked cum, or if she was just trying to keep Quinn under her thumb. 

“Well I don’t have a problem with either. I mean, I don’t really love a facial, but other places are fine.” She paused for a moment, thinking about how often Quinn asked her questions, willing to learn, so he could please her better, “and, I mean, if you’re really invested in coming on my face, we can do it. I just don’t want it all the time.”  

He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. A relationship is a two way street. You deserve to get the things you want, too. ” 

The relieved smile he gave her in response made her want to slap June across the face. Quinn was so, so good — attentive and genuine and so willing to learn and please. She wanted to do the same for him. Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah had some kink for cum, at least she didn’t think she did, but feeling a partners pleasure in such a tangible way, always gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. 

“Is there anything else you want?” he asked. 

“No. You?” 

He shook his head.

“Alright,” she said, “I think we should go upstairs.” 

Quinn stopped trying to play it cool. He was too excited to play it cool. He grabbed her hand and raced up the stairs, glad that she laughed as she ran along with him. 

She threw open the door to his room. Sarah loved this room. It was in the corner of the building, and huge windows looked over the beautiful Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, turning the harbor and city windows yellow and pink, casting their colors on the walls and spinning everything else in the room into gold. 

Before she could get too caught in the view, he was spinning her around, catching her mouth in a kiss that sucked the breath right out of her. 

Clothing was discarded, and they tumbled into his bed. 

They surged together and Sarah moaned. It was already so much better. 

Somehow, there was less pressure. He didn't have to think about pulling away to make sure they were safe. He could stay focused on her without any other worries. Why had he been so nervous? This felt, like she said, like the natural next step. 

When he pulled back to line himself up, Sarah pressed her hand to his pelvis stopping the movement. 

“What?” he asked, worried he'd hurt her. 

“We need lube,” she said. “Or more foreplay. The condoms you have have lube on them, so they slide easier. Without that I'm worried…” she trailed off. 

He hadn't even thought about it. “Which do you want?”

“I mean, I'm always game for more foreplay.”

Grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, rolling his hips against hers again. As their tongues tangled, she groaned into his mouth. 

“Tell me when you're ready,” he whispered in her ear before tracing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. He licked and kissed, while one of his hands fondled her breasts, working her up to those hitched little breaths and small moans he loved so much.

“Quinn,” she breathed, a few moments later, as her temperature spiked. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his beard rasped against her skin. She’d never liked facial hair before him, but somehow, with Quinn, it was more arousing than painful. Probably because of what else he was doing. God, he was good with his mouth. 

Unbidden, but not unwelcome or unfamiliar, images crashed into her mind — Quinns head buried between her thighs, his magic tongue working her to a climax she knew would be mind melting. The fantasies made her desperate for him.

“I need you,” she gasped, feeling herself grow slick against the muscular ridge of his thigh he had wedged between her legs.

“I’m right here.”

“I need you inside me.”

Her admission made Quinn feel drunk with desire. Out of his mind with it. He pulled back and her hand covered his to help him line up.

Pressing into her was better than he’d imagined. 

She was so hot and wet and, “shit, you’re so tight,” he ground out, the words scraping over a moan. 

Now that the barrier was gone, the time spent waiting to remove it was well worth it. Her smooth walls hugged him perfectly. 

Just to feel the contrast, he withdrew to the tip, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth at the rush of cool air before he drove back into her warmth. His jaw dropped and he made some unintelligible sound.

Slick and slippery, his thrusts moved with her seamlessly as she rose to meet him again and again and again.

“So good,” she breathed, reveling in the feel of him - every vein and ridge that had been smoothed by the latex covering before felt so prominent now and, “Quinn, you feel so good.” 

The praise went straight to his head.

“You feel so —” he broke off with a growl. “Shit, you feel so amazing, Sarah. I — I —” He babbled, nearly blurting that he loved her. He bit that back. This wasn’t the time for that. He wanted that to be special, not something spluttered in a lust-drunk moment. “I don't know how long I can last,” he admitted instead. 

God, he was something else. Flushed and flustered, eyes half hooded, body tight with exertion and control, he looked delicious. The fact that he wanted her this much made her chest feel full to bursting.

A moan escaped her mouth as pleasure washed over her face. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Just like that, he was done for. Cooked.

“I can't… I can't,” he stammered. At least he lasted longer than the embarrassing two strokes from their first time.

“Then don't,” she panted, rocking her hips into his. Her own climax building as the thought of him finally coming inside her brought her sensitivity to a peak. 

Groaning her name, he let his body take over, rhythm turning sloppy. 

As she watched, his eyes fluttered closed and with a final, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt and let go. 

Feeling the very tangible result of his pleasure coat her walls made Sarah��s breath hitch. It only took a few more rocks of her hips before her body bowed, chest pressing flush to his as she pulsed around him, pleasure poured into her body. 

His mouth was open against her neck as he let out a sort of pained grunt.

Coming down, she melted into the soft mattress. 

His body followed hers, his weight pressing into her. He knew it was probably too heavy, but he couldn’t possibly hold himself up right now.

Quinns gasping breaths were crashing into her neck. Even though it didn’t make it any easier to catch her breath, she loved the solid weight of him on top of her.

Strength slowly returned to him and they both winced a little as he eased out. 

Flopping onto his back next to her, he groped for her hand. “Oh my god,” he breathed, once he had control of his voice. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling some breaths deep into her lungs.

After a few more moments of basking in the afterglow, she moved to get up. He tugged her back, “where are you going?” 

“I need to pee. I'll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn't shy away from watching her pad to the bathroom and then back to the bed. 

Halfway through their second round, he was determined to feel Sarah come undone around him when he wasn’t so sensitive from his own orgasm. Working his fingers to her clit, he traced gentle patterns over the swollen nub. 

A pleasured sigh left her lips. “Oh,” Sarah breathed, “that feels so good, Quinn.”

She had to take a moment to make her mind concentrate on one thing at a time. Anticipation coiled tighter in her belly as she focused on his gentle, deliberate touch, the heat of his body above and inside her, and then, the feel of his cock, which had been so dulled before, it almost felt completely new.

He dipped lower, gathering more of her arousal on his fingers to slip and slide over her bundle of nerves. 

He didn’t try to hide or hold back from how good it felt when she fluttered around him. Her name panted from his mouth. Only when he felt himself sliding too close to the edge, did he bite his lip to distract himself. 

Seeing Quinn hold on for her, trying to draw out her orgasm before his own, made tenderness swell within her. It mixed with the pleasure in her veins, bringing her closer to the peak. How the hell did June not see him this way? 

She gasped his name before admitting, “I’m almost there.” 

“What do you need?” he asked, wrenching his eyes open to look into her face. 

“Keep going, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

He shook his head. Never. He would never stop trying to please her like this and any other way he could. 

The steady rhythm he restrained himself into did its job, and she tipped over the edge. 

The coil in her belly finally shattering, her body seized up as pleasure fractured through her like lightning. His name flew from her mouth in a hoarse cry. 

Jaw falling open, he grunted his pleasure as her core sucked him deeper with every rhythmic pulse. God, she felt even more incredible. Sarah was already the best he’d ever had, and now, the sex had just gotten better. How was that possible? 

Gripping the sheets, he held on for her, moaning and muttering about how good she felt coming around him.

Sarah was mesmerized by him. His eyes were shut now, the skin around them taut, but his jaw was lax, nearly hanging open. His arms flexed, mountains and valleys of muscle on either side of her, straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Electricity was still buzzing faintly through her veins, even as her high ebbed away. She couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill his fantasy.

“Come on me, Quinn.” 

Breath lodged in his throat and his eyes flew open, frantically searching her face. “You're sure?”

“Yes. I want you to. Come on me,” she repeated, running her fingers up her chest as an example. 

In a rush of want, he planked above her, quickly tugging on his cock, slick with her arousal, until he exploded, painting a sticky white line up her chest.

She seemed to preen under the assault, arching her back and moaning as if it was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.  

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his limbs turned to jelly. 

He managed to lower himself on top of her without dropping, feeling his cum slick between their skin. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he panted against her mouth. 

In a few minutes time, Sarah knew she'd be squirming for a shower, but for now, she felt extremely gratified with fulfilling this fantasy for him. She smiled, replaying the look of shocked elation on his face when she requested it.

Tracing her fingers up the bumps of his spine, she took in a deep breath and let it sigh out of her lungs, reveling in the weight of his body on hers. 

Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Where did all of this come from?”

“All what?” 

He traced a finger through the valley of her breasts, gathering some of his cum. “This,” he said, “your little exhibitionist streak when I came on you.”

“Oh,” she somehow blushed despite her flushed skin. “I wanted to be good for you. You’re so good to me all the time, I want you to feel that, too.” 

That simple statement, her admittance that she did it for him, made his head spin. How could he have ever thought what he had with June was love? He saw now how a love that met you half way blew her idea of love, which he knew now was more about control, out of the water. 

A few minutes later, Sarah’s sweaty, post-sex skin began to itch. “Shower?” she asked. 

“Snacks,” Quinn countered, his head still resting on the front of her shoulder. 

A laugh shook her chest, “shower then snacks.”

He supposed it could work.

A short while later, they were in the kitchen, and Quinn was having an argument with himself.

They needed to have a conversation, but it was terrible timing. He didn’t want her to think he was only bringing it up because of what happened that night. At the same time, he'd been thinking about it since before his parents' visit, when she'd brought up the WAG jackets. Now that his mom and dad had met her and approved, the only thing holding him back was his brother's approval. He wasn't sure he could wait that long.

He was about to leave again, and the family skate was coming up after he got back. He wanted her to come, but he was so tired of introducing her as the girl he was seeing. Sarah was more than that, now. It didn’t fit anymore, and it was too damn long to keep saying. 

If they didn’t talk about it now, he worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a shirt with a funny little cartoon of a fork and a spoon that said, ‘Spooning leads to forking’ along with a pair of matching shorts. Her thighs were bare and lovely in the dim light as she sat on the counter, eating a piece of cheese she’d stolen from the sandwich he was building for them to split. 

He put the top piece of bread on and decided he should just blurt it out. He didn’t think there would be a better way. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to bring up.

“What do you think about being my girlfriend?” he said, looking up.

Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, the cheese missing an almost cartoon-like bite  — a little scalloped half moon cut into one corner.

“Am —” Sarah paused, wondering if this was some kind of a trick question. “Am I not?” 

“No,” he said before his brain caught up with him. “No, you are, but I mean, like, formally?” 

Her head tilted to one side, “Of course. I’ve been thinking of you as my boyfriend for a few weeks now. Pretty much since you met Trav and the kids.”

A sigh breathed through him. 

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” 

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t want you to think I was only bringing it up because of the unprotected sex thing.” 

“That is pretty terrible timing on your part,” she conceded, laughing. “It’s a good thing I…” she trailed off, stopping herself from continuing out loud. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? So what if she was in her ridiculous pajamas in his kitchen? She’d brought them with her expressly because she thought they would make him laugh, and she’d been right. The delighted surprise that had escaped his mouth when he’d seen them was something she knew she’d treasure for a long time.

“A good thing you?” he repeated, hope ballooning in his chest. 

“It’s a good think I know you’re not just in it for the sex,” she said, lamely.

Quinn’s expression went from worried to distraught right before her eyes. “How could you think that?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly earnest.

“Quinn, I —” 

He cut her off, “I like so many things about you, Sarah. You’re smart and funny and you’re kind to everyone you meet, and you’re so dedicated to your work.” He was rambling now, but if she thought he was in this just for the sex? He would die of shame. 

“I like that you’ve never treated me like anything else but Quinn, and you’re always willing to meet me half way,” he said, his voice taking on an almost frantic quality as he tried to convey what she meant to him. “And I —” 

“Quinn.” 

The way she said his name made him stop short. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand coming up to gently cup his jaw. “I was teasing. I know you’re not just in it for the sex. Someone who only wanted sex wouldn’t have waited four weeks to have it.” 

She had a valid point. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Quinn. Just as long as you can be my boyfriend.” 

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, feeling as if someone had struck a match, setting his heart ablaze. 

Settling into bed, Quinn remembered he hadn’t told her yet. 

“Hey, my family’s coming in for the finals. They’ll be here on the 20th.” 

“Oh,” she said, obvious disappointment on her face.

“Is that not…okay?” 

Feeling her cheeks blaze, Sarah realized she hadn’t shared that expectation with him yet. “It’s just…my last final is that day and I’ve kind of been looking forward to you fucking me silly as a reward for finishing.”

His eyes went huge, “oh.”

“It's one of the ideas that's kept me going, honestly.”

“I could still do that,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“With your family in the house? I don't think so.”

“At yours then.”

“With my roommates there?”

He bit his lip. “We could get a hotel?”

“Because that's not weird when you have people, let alone family, staying at your house.”

“I’ll tell them to come a day later,” he offered. 

“Would they buy that without an explanation?”

“Would I have to give them one?”  

“I don't know. Would you? My family would want to know. You’ll have to make something up.”

“You don’t want me to tell them they can’t come on the 20th because my girlfriend finally finished her classes and wants to be fucked all night?” he teased. 

Giggling, she smacked his shoulder lightly, “I think I might die if your mom knew that about me,” she admitted, part of her mind still caught on the open way he used the girlfriend title. 

He laughed.“I’ll just tell them we have a late team meeting, or something so it would be better for them to come in on 21st. It’ll be fine.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[imagining-in-the-margins]

🌈CM Pride Challenge🏳️‍⚧️

Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of May AND June, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including LGBTQA+ PRIDE using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed!Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.

There are a LOT of prompts below the cut, so keep going!

(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)

General Prompts 🏳️‍🌈

Coming out is so much harder the second time

Describe Character’s first kiss with the same gender

Describe Character(s) spending a day at a Pride parade

The team realizes that A&B were more than roommates

Penelope goes a little overboard on rainbow decorations at Characters’ wedding

Character's marriage mutually comes to an end when they come out... now what?

Character comes out at the same time they announce their new relationship to the team

Character A fears it’s too late for them to live authentically, and B assures them that’s not true

Character A gifts B something colored like their pride flag because “the colors reminded me of you”

Child realizes that not every kid has two moms/two dads and they have a lot of questions about it

Queer characters have a hard time deciding what their child should call them and come up with fun ideas

Character A goes to a LGBT bar with B as a wingperson (or maybe they want them, themselves?)

Anything else you can think of!

More prompts (transgender, assorted, dialogue) below!

Transgender Prompts 🏳️‍⚧️

Character A helps B get their first tailored dress/suit

Character A helps B shave and/or put on makeup

The couple is looking for gender neutral nicknames

Character A buys B specialty gender affirming lingerie

Character is casually referred to with an appropriately gendered nickname for the first time

Characters are renewing their vows and redoing their wedding photos following a coming out

Character A walks in on B wearing a new gender-affirming outfit and surprises them with an enthusiastic compliment

The team throws Character an impromptu first birthday party following their coming out (how did they get a banner so fast?!)

Character A buys B a gender affirming but stereotypical gift (sports jersey, neon pink purse, etc.) that they would otherwise hate (but find absolutely hilarious)

Specific Prompts 💝

[Bisexual] Character gets irritated when people reduce their sexuality to their current partner

[Bisexual] Character A is in a M/F relationship with B and worries that their queer identity will become invisible dating them

[Asexual] Characters explore different forms of non-sexual intimacy

[Asexual] Characters are both asexual but too nervous to tell one another. They awkwardly attempt to have sex but end up laughing at how ridiculous they feel.

Dialogue Prompts 💐

“Are they… flirting?” “Big time.”

“I got to fall in love with you twice.”

“To be seen is to be loved." "I see you.”

“Be gay, do crimes.” “Aren’t you a cop?”

“There is no heterosexual explanation for that.”

“Life is very different once you find your people.”

“Cardinals and hydrangeas can change. Why not you?”

“You're still the person I love. Nothing will change that.”

“We both wear pants. Makes it easier to kick your ass.”

“It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.”

“I guess it makes sense now why it never worked out with my exes.”

Am I allowed to look at her like that? Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at? ("She" by Dodie)

“You can kiss a hundred boys in bars, shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling ... Well, good luck, babe. You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.” ("Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan)

Rules ❤️🧡💚💙💜🖤🤎

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check.Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around June 30. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

🌈Happy writing! 🏳️‍⚧️

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Get rid of it.

🐺Daryl Dixon x Reader

You and Daryl never fought, until you did. Daryl relives old traumas while you stay at Hilltop.

To everyone around, you and Daryl seemed like the perfect couple.

And you two felt like it too.

Daryl always claimed to be blessed having you at his side. You had never once complained about his upbringing showing through in his actions, or got scared of him after finding out what he was. A monster. But not to you.

The two of you were the perfect picture for a new family.

Except that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The two of you had never fought in your time together, not even when Daryl distanced himself after he thought he scared you and convinced himself you wanted to leave. But today the whole community was turned upside down by Daryl’s roaring voice directed at no one else but you.

You had cone back from the infirmary after some nausea and constant tiredness, only to find out you and Daryl had been less careful when being intimate than you at first thought. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you walked into the house where he sat in his chair, cleaning his crossbow.

“Daryl, look!” You were smiling so bright it piqued Daryl’s interest enough to put down his stuff and get up to look at the little thing in your outstretched hands.

“Nah.” His eyes went wide with horror, all color draining from him as he shoved you aside and in long strides barely made it to the counter before his lunch met the sink. You followed his movements and stared in shock. You never saw him puke, ever. He could stomach anything, never even getting nauseous in the slightest but now you watched him empty his stomach right there in front of you.

Your arms lowered as you pocketed the little white stick that showed the perfect little future others would often joke about. It was going to become real now and you were excited, but it seemed Daryl felt different about it.

With tears streaming down his cheeks and drool hanging off his lip he turned his head ever so slightly to look at you. “Ya never asked me. M’tellin’ ya no, right now.” He was still heaving over the sink, barely moving as he stood, visibly shaking on his legs.

“Daryl, you okay?” Moving forward ever so carefully you reached out for his arm but got your hand swatted away with a loud, angry growl.

“Get the FUCK away from me!” The change in his voice knocked the wind out of you, making you back up all the way agains the front door where you had a chance to run but still see Daryl. “Daryl, what’s going on?” The fear was catching up to you and you felt disgusted by yourself. You didn’t fear him, it was one of the qualities he loved about you and praised you for but now with his strange reaction you couldn’t help but want to run and hide.

Especially because he was now making his way up to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and a look in his eyes you couldn’t seem to figure out.

You were halfway onto the porch, your heartbeat ringing so loud in your ears you barely heard his snarls. “I thought you’d be happy.. I want this.” You stammered through the short sentence, hand gripping the edge of the stairs so hard you were convinced you’d bruise your fingers.

With a rough breath Daryl got right in your face. “Ain’t NO WAY I’m lettin’ ya go an’ do this.” his hand swung out, right in front of your face, but passing it barely as he pointed back in the direction of the infirmary. “Ne’er asked ya fer a kid!” His voice traveled, and already started gathering curious looks from folks. “Yer gonna march yer ass back to Denise, and get FUCKIN’ RID OF IT!”

His roared command had you stagger backwards and almost trip down the stairs, barely catching yourself before storming off in fear.

You wanted to scream back at him, tell him how badly you wanted this. For how long you had wanted this but words caught in the back of your throat and wouldn’t come out so you just did as he asked and ran.

Denise immediately caught on when you came back in crying your eyes out, letting you sit off to the side until you ran out of tears and caught your breath enough to talk somewhat okay again.

“I take he didn’t like the surprise? I’m really sorry. I hope he just needs some time to let it all sink in.” Denise had sat down cross-legged on the floor with you, holding out a hand for you to take and ground yourself.

“He got so scared.” You were barely believing your own words. Daryl didn’t get scared ever. “Then he got mad..”

Your words shocked the medic, having known and gotten close to Daryl for a while now and had seen her share of arguments between the archer and other adults in the community, but to say she had ever seen him seriously mad would be a lie. “I’m so sorry. What did he say?”

Back at the house Rick had sent the onlookers away as he and Carol went inside, following after their angry friend.

“Daryl.” Rick’s tone was stern, his aura oozing authority but quickly dropping the act as he saw his brother’s bloodshot eyes and trembling hands. Carol read each and every one of his tells like she was the one who labeled them all in the first place and knew he was close to losing the last bit of his humanity he was currently desperately clinging onto. “Please tell us what happened?”

She knew her action could end up badly but decided to step towards her best friend, offering a hand to ground him like you normally would when his emotions got the best of him. The growl that left the hunter as he breathed out filled the room with an eery energy. Back at the quarry when Daryl still lost his temper more often there were woods around where he could run and hide into, but now he was inside of a house, inside of a community with high walls that even he couldn’t climb easily. He had to keep a hold over himself now.

“..Pup.” He had a difficulty finding his words, eyes unable to focus on anything and looking frantically around the room. “She.. She tol’ me jus’ now.” Hands went from pockets to sleeve ends back to being chewed on or swiping at loose strands of hair that were suddenly the most distracting things in life, wanting to tear them out right that second. “Sent ‘er off to Denise.”

"Why send her to the infirmary, Daryl?" It was Rick's turn to question him again. He was unsure of his reasonings, why would he send you away after such news?

Daryl’s annoyed but confused grunt had the other two confused along with him. Were they supposed to know his reasonings? He never spoke about the subject of having a family with you, they only knew about his shitty father and dead mother.

“Get outta my house.” Daryl’s voice was calm and the message was clear. After giving each other a look they agreed it was best to follow the man’s request and leave him be for now. Halfway out of the door though, they both stopped and turned to face their friend once more. “You’ll do great, don’t doubt that please.” Carol’s look was one of sadness while Rick added to her reassuring words with a smile and a nod.

Neither did anything to calm the hurt inside of Daryl, instead only getting on his nerves more than they already had by showing up.

“I said get the FUCK OUT.” With a long stride forward he backed them out onto the porch with a roar and slammed the door shut, locking it and retreating downstairs.

While Daryl turned to sleep to keep his anger at bay, Rick went home and Carol took a detour to find you and Denise still sitting on the floor of the infirmary.

Your eyes were puffy and red as you looked at her from down below and followed her movements to where she sat down with you two.

With a heavy heart you repeated the events from before Carol spoke with Daryl and after some more reassuring she agreed to walk you home again.

Once inside you thanked the universe for Daryl not being in the main area and you could go to bed without any more trouble.

Sadly drama didn’t stay at bay for long. The next you were sitting at the dinner table with your breakfast when Daryl came upstairs from his basement room, looking like absolute hell. His hair was an even bigger mess than it normally was in the morning, and you swore the bags under his eyes were a few shades darker than usual.

You wanted to ask him how he was feeling, but the stare and low growl that left him was enough of an answer by itself.

Sighing at yourself you decided to give him more time and went to follow your daily routines as usual and let him make the initial contact when he was up for it.

You ate dinner alone that evening. The other half of your bed stayed empty that night. And another scowl after the first few sniffs of the day were again the only interaction you had.

Today’s issue was worse. You both had nothing to do and were going to be in each others’ way somehow.

You were spending the day around the house doing chores, taking a quick shower and making dinner prep early so you had some time to relax. You were having a small meal to take your new vitamins with when Daryl came upstairs and tried his best to avoid you. His only problem was his weapons that laid beside you on the table.

Involuntarily he sniffed the air, like a reflex his animal side never is human form and all he could do was try to shake off the conflicting feelings it brought. He wanted to bury his nose in your hair and keep inhaling your delicious scent, but with every intake of breath it felt like someone shot a bolt through his chest, the screaming in his head only getting louder each time.

“I’ll leave if you want me to.” Your tone was dry and unamused. “S’not it..” It was the most he had said to you since your last fight, but it was clear he was holding back a lot of his thoughts. You knew Daryl had a horrible upbringing and were aware of his fear of being a bad parental figure, but he had proven the opposite many times over already. Still you got up to put your plate away, “You know you’re the only one who thinks you’d be a shitty dad, right?”

Your words seemed to only anger him further as he growled way louder now, making you turn to him and see him standing in the middle of the room, visibly shaking. “Why aint ya listnin’ ta me?” He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, nervously moved his weight from one foot to the other.

Why weren’t you listening? He had barely heard the news and freaked out so bad he never gave you a chance to talk before barking you out the door. Literally.

“Listen to you?” Now it was your turn to get angry. “You haven’t even given me a chance to talk!” Your sudden snap had him step back, eyes wide in panic. “Not even a chance to discus! An immediate no and angry barking was all I got. You wouldn’t even let me tell you how bad I want this, for how goddamn long I’ve wanted this!”

Your blood boiled now, were you finally seeing that bad side Daryl always talked about? “I’m keeping it. Just stay away if you can’t agree.” With your arms crossed over your chest you sniffled, all the fighting was really getting to you.

“Just FUCKIN’ listen!” Daryl’s words more of a roar than a yell, coming from deep down along with the change in his eyes that only happened when his beast tried to come out.

“I ain’t gonna let tha’ thing kill ya! Not like it killed her!” The second the words left his lips he dropped to his knees, his body jerking with each ugly sob that racked his entire being as the memories he tried to forget resurfaced with a force that knocked the wind out of him.

“F— fuck..”

With each intake of breath your scent filled his nostrils and brought back the trauma he so desperately tried to keep at bay. He shared more with his loved ones these days, but not this. Never this.

——

“Dee, hey.” Her voice was quiet, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, making him quicken his steps up her driveway where he had just parked his bike. Within seconds he her, his face stuffed in her frizzy curls. “God, ya smell delicious today. Wanna live ‘ere With ma face in yer neck.” The low grumble in his chest was something she could never get enough of, but she needed to pry him off in order to continue with his surprise. “Come inside, baby. Got something for ya. Promise you’ll love it.”

Once inside he found a small box with his name on it. “Go on, look!” Daryl sat himself down on the blanketed couch, much nicer than the ratty one full of holes and broken springs he had at home. He ever so carefully reached and lifted the lid off the box, his eyes lifting to stare at his girlfriend. “Yer kiddin’ me, aintya?” His briht blue eyes shone with excitement at the sight of the small white plastic showing off two little pink lines that indicated the next step towards their future.

“Mom was so excited, she insisted in coming along because she said she knew already anyways.” She laughed at her lover as he had gotten up to round the small table and envelop her in the most loving hug. “Yer mom’s amazin’ fer bein’ fine with us. With this.” He barely believed it every time he came up to her home. He found someone who looked past his racist family members and actively helped him lessen those habits integrated into his person from a young age. Even her family accepted the young ‘white trash’ boy her daughter had brought home those years ago. Hell, he was more than happy to keep his family out of this whole ordeal and never see them again after this news.

“Shit, we gotta get all kinds’a baby stuff now. Ain’t sure where ta start..” There was another thing prodding at the back of his mind. “Hey, what’s yer parents gon’ say when they see the kid and it aint, ya know..” He made a hand gesture to figure out how to say what he wanted, but failing entirely. “What if it aint human?”

The soft giggle that left her lips was like heaven on earth and calmed his nerves in a second. “Dee, they know about you and accepted that part of you too, even if they’ve never seen it before.”

That day’s news was followed by a few days of Daryl packing up his belongings and officially moving in with his partner, leaving his family behind for safety reasons. If they ever found out he was having a child with someone who wasn’t as much white trash as they were, shotguns would be loaded and a hunt would be started.

To their family’s luck the other Dixons stayed away and the weeks passed quietly and turned into months. The spare room cleared out and turned into a nursery for the little one. Even without the usual doctor’s appointments due to Daryl’s fear of seeing something they shouldn’t on the ultrasound she was healthy and the kid had a steady heartbeat.

Only two more weeks before they’d meet their child.

With time passing quick they got a lot of visits from her parents. While mom stayed with the mother to be and helped with cooking and laundry, keeping the house clean and making sure the soon to be mother was doing alright, the men w worked on the last finishing touches in the nursery and baby-proofing the home.

After working the whole day everyone had gathered in the kitchen, where father sat at the dinner table and mother cooked while the two lovers stood leaning agains the counter. Daryl’s back rested against the cupboards with her back against his front, his hands below her belly to relieve some weight. “Kid’s active. Been like tha’ all day?” Even now Daryl still had his nose in the crook of her neck, taking in her delicious scent.

With all the plates and food on the moved out of Daryl’s grasp, slowly waddling towards her spot as Daryl grabbed their drinks off the counter. His back was turned to her what she groaned in pain. He turned just in time to see her drop to her knees and let out a cry. In a second her scent turned foul as she screamed.

Blood.

Her pastel sweats stained red down to her knees, choked sobs leaving her as her arms clutched around her swollen belly that violently spasmed.

No. It wasn’t her muscles spasming. The pup woke early and needed a way out. He picked up the energy of a panicked wolf amidst the chaos of his own fear, her pain and her parents’ shouting.

Frantic breaths and quickened heartbeats then turned to silence, and with a loud thud she fell.

His vision went black and the voices now screamed at him. “I knew we shouldn’t have let her go through with this! I warned you it wasn’t safe!” The man’s voice rung right above him where Daryl knelt over his love, ear pressed against her chest, her belly but hearing nothing. Only the loud, soul crushing sobs of her mother. “Y.. You.. Killed.. Her..” she spoke between sobs. He didn’t know what to do, his body ached all over and his mind howled to drown out the curses thrown at him.

“You’re nothing but a monster! A.. A murderer!” That was the last thing he heard before he lost himself and ran. His feral side took over and forced him to turn, run back to the woods he knew like home.

Its where he spent weeks, hiding from humanity. Its where he swore to never have another child again.

——

“Please.. Get rid of it, m’beggin’ ya..” His gaze was still focused on the floor, a wet stain from his tears right under his shaking form.

His words struck you where it hurt. You felt his pain, but you couldn’t be sure what happened back then would happen now. You quickly fond solutions to things that happened back then, ruling them out and seeing no reason to give up this child out of fear. “I’m sorry..” You wanted so badly to please him, but after a lifetime of never having anything you wanted you weren’t going to accept no. “I’m going to keep it, I see your fears but I want this.” Yeah, it was selfish, but you had to not care about that for once. “I’ll leave for Hilltop tomorrow. Maggie’s there and they have a doctor, so we’ll be safe.”

And so you did. Daryl gave no response to your decision but was gone when you came back downstairs. He stayed gone over the time you spent packing and getting a vehicle ready and you assumed he’d gone out into the woods again. Rosita drove out with you, trying to keep a conversation going but you were too distracted scanning the woods for a sign of your lover, but you never caught him and soon arrived at Hilltop.

It wasn't fun having to again repeat why you were there and Daryl wasn't, but Maggie made sure you were comfortable and getting your needed checkups over time.

Against the better judgement of the others you always sat in on radios to Alexandria that brought updates from and to you.

"Thanks for willing to show up this time. She's doing great." Jesus was the one updating today, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smiled at you sitting beside him. The line stayed quiet for a second before Daryl's voice came through. "Course she's still fine now. Pup aint big enough ta harm 'er yet."

With that the line went quiet again and you were left with no updates on their side for now.

Having no other option than accepting it for now you went back to your daily routine of helping around the community by doing light tasks. You wondered how Daryl would respond if he knew you were out and about instead of resting in bed the whole time had things gone better. He'd blow a fuse for sure.

In Alexandria Daryl was finally home long enough to be cornered by Rick and Carol. He wanted nothing more than to run, but his endless hunting and changing forms constantly had him exhausted, so his only choice now was to hear his friends out.

“Would you please share why you fought so bad about this?” Carol asked after a moment as the three were seated around the coffee table in the living room, with Daryl in his armchair and the others on the couch. “It can’t be that you think you’d be a bad father. The way you handle Judith shows you know what you’re doing.”

“Aint the problem. ‘S sumthin’ else.” Daryl was back to shaking, feeling his worthless kid self creep to the surface of his being, resting right underneath his skin.

“Will you tell us, brother?”

Brother, right. Another brother he kept all of this from. Maybe if he told him he'd be on his side, unlike you.. So that's what he did.

"Used ta have a girl 'fore all'a this." There was an immediate interest in the story, and Daryl went on to share the traumatic memory that had been haunting his nightmares for over a month now.

"Shit scared me so bad I hid in the woods fer weeks.."

Carol wanted nothing more than to get up and hug her friend, and Rick could only share what went on in his mind after what happened to Lori.

The three of them shared their most personal experiences of losing loved ones in their lifetime, but in the end neither Rick or Carol could convince Daryl to go see you.

The news was radio'ed to Hilltop, where you accepted it, as you did each time the bringer of news came to you with a sad look in their eyes.

While the child inside you grew you felt surprisingly fine. The women who had children before shared their tales of tiredness, nausea and mood swings with you, and eventually about bringing their children into the world as well. While some stories sounded more like horrors to you, they all still laughed and enjoyed recollecting the memories and assuring you there was nothing to worry about with the doc around.

The closer you got to your due date, which Daryl was so kind to share seeing you didn’t know about this part of being with a werewolf, Daryl’s anxiety got even worse. Unable to go out hunting and be away from the radio, but also wanting to tear the thing to shreds so it wouldn’t sit there haunting him. He kept hearing the static of a connection forming before the voice would come through, but each time it was just his imagination. He was waiting for the bad news to come in any hour now. Waiting for the ‘sorry, Daryl. We couldn’t do anything.’ from the other end of the radio. Sleeping was out of the question too, being plagued by nightmares nearly every time he closed his eyes.

Daryl never kept up with a calendar, but he clung to the one in his home now like his life depended on it. Your due date was tomorrow and those dreaded words hadn’t been shared yet.

Any of his hourly “Ya heard anythin’?”s came with a negative answer. It meant you were at least alive, still. For now.

His anxious asking kept up for three days until he finally ran out of strength and passed out, getting much needed sleep for once.

His sleep didn’t last long. Rick was at his side, shaking him awake and backing up as he got snapped at. “The hell ya want, Rick?”

“Get your ass to the radio. Hilltop called, she’s in labour.” While the news shocked him and he felt the urge to go talk to you, he couldn’t get himself out of bed and have to relive the horrors of something going wrong. He’d never forgive himself for not trying harder to convince you.

Despite knowing he could easily get his neck snapped he kept pushing Daryl to go but never succeeded, eventually giving up to keep the peace.

It was hours later he was being disturbed again. Carol came by this time with a walkie in her hands.

“Alright, I’m here. Have her talk.” Daryl turned to Carol’s voice, not stopping his work on the other side of the room.

“Dee? Can you hear me? We’re fine, both of us are fine.” The clatter of metal on the concrete floor spooked Carol, but not as much as the speed of Daryl moving towards her and snatching the walkie from her hands. “Yer fine? How?” There was just static at the other end of the line for a bit and Carol could swear she saw tears threatening to spill. “We got a walkie against the radio, it takes a second.” His attention was back to the walkie immediately.

“I had the pup. I’m healthy and so is she.”

Oh. The guilt of leaving her to do all of this on her own overpowered the anxiety of waiting for the horrible news entirely, unsure what to do first he tossed the walkie to Carol and threw on his vest over his ratty sweater and headed out the door. “Tell ‘er I’m headin’ over!”

Calling back a confirmation was unnecessary with the loud rumble of his motorcycle, so she made her way back to where the radio was set up. No need to share the details, seeing the others were outside already to see him ride out the gate.

“Hey, he’s on his way.” Jesus’ head peeked into the room where you were settled to rest in private. Maggie was finding you something to eat and going to see a seamstress to adjust your pup’s clothes. You knew it would be a while before Daryl would arrive, needing to come all the way from Alexandria. You had plenty of time to rest and eat before he'd get there.

Daryl rode like a madman to get to you as fast as possible and found the gate to Hilltop already opened, awaiting his arrival.

Sadly he found Gregory as first person to welcome him and tried his schtick of having people not just barge into his community all the time, but getting shoved aside with an angry snarl s Daryl passed him and followed his nose to where you rested.

Daryl found the room you were in, having sniffed you out with ease but found himself anxious again as his hand found the doorknob. He had been the worst partner to you those months ago. How was he supposed to look you in the eye knowing he let you leave to supposedly die?

“Hey, oww. Careful, you.” He caught your voice and it was like his body moved on its own, no doubt his other half’s need to see the child winning over his anxiety.

“Hey, Dee.” The smile you had on your face was no less than the one you held when you first handed him that test that started so much drama. But what truly kept all of his attention right now was the little bundle of fur laying curled up on your chest.

“She fell asleep after feeding. Come see.” Your hand moved slow to not disturb the sleeping pup, and reached for Daryl to come closer from where he still stood at the door.

He was so overwhelmed he needed a moment to gather himself and move forward to where you laid in bed. “M’sorry.” It was the only thing that made it past his lips before you saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and rested his head in one arm as the other went to take your hand in his. He didn’t say anything else, but you knew he just needed time to process. You let him get his mind to calm down and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles for a while before your pup woke and unrolled herself clumsily. She slipped off your body and plopped right against Daryl’s head, immediately sniffing around in his hair and let out soft whines that had Daryl move to look at her up close.

His own eyes stared back at him, surrounded in a shade that resembled your hair color most. A soft pink nose pressed against his as the barrage of sniffs continued.

“Thanks, fer not hurtin’ yer mom.” His voice was soft and his hands found her small body, lifting her as he stood up to sit on the bed with you now that you had a chance to move again.

“Should’ve stayed with ya.” A simple sentence you agreed with, but still you forgave him for everything that happened. You also had your time to think and understood why he did what he did.

Truthfully none of it mattered anymore. You had your little family here now and everyone was healthy.

“You’re all okay, Dear. You had your reasons and it’s over now. You’re here.” You were rested against his shoulder as he held his daughter in his lap, staring with true love in his eyes.

“She looks like a Lily.” Daryl spoke after a long stretch of comfortable silence. “Soft ‘n delicate.”

You cuddled further into him, reaching out to take your daughter’s paw.

“Then Lily it’ll be.”

You were going to be okay, the three of you.

A/N: Oh man this one took so long I had to reread constantly to see where I left off!

[haliteatiger]

Happy Werewolf Wednesday, ya'll! We're serving up a big pot of tea tonight so get those cups ready!

Special thanks to Blackbackedjackal and King for their help in putting this together, editing, and especially to Jackal for being so supportive and encouraging. I'm very much not normally the type to do call-out posts, but people need to be aware of Dogblud, as she has hurt, not only myself, but quite a few others as well, and seems to have somehow gotten away with behaving like this for 20-odd years. I'm of the mind she shouldn't be allowed to do so any more, hence this post.

TL;DR - Beware of Dogblud, aka Ashryn, aka DogofBlud, aka ThatDogMagic. Very, very long post under the cut.

With everything happening with DogBlud and Blackbackedjackal's studio, I felt emboldened to come forward with my own experiences with her. This is something I've been carrying around since it happened roughly 2 years ago. It was one of the main reasons that put me off drawing werewolves, my own characters, or engaging any more in the fandom. I've hinted at it a few times but I've never had the energy to come forward and deal with the fall out. I wanted to move on with the rest of my life because IRL was more important than online drama. And I knew her behavior would come back to bite her sooner or later, regardless of what I did. 

It's been very validating to see that I was right.

It was around the time that Blud and I became friends that I was feeling a bit burnt out on werewolves. I'd been trying to pull together my own werewolf-related project for something close to 12 years. The past 4 years had also been pretty draining on me creatively and socially, as it had for a lot of artists with regards to the pandemic. I also had some IRL things I was dealing with: mainly with my marriage and transitioning between medications to manage my anxiety + bipolar.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight to screenshot everything at the time. I do have logs from back when we roleplayed together. There are several conversations in them but because they were saved as text documents, they're pretty dubious in terms of solid evidence. 

It would have been better if I had taken screenshots as it was happening, rather than just saving the logs. With what I *do* have, however, I feel as though it may be enough to make the point that I'm trying to make, and to exhibit how horrible things got.

I'll provide some context.

I had talked with Blud on and off over the years, and we had always gotten along. We had a lot in common and after we had started talking more, our friendship eventually grew into a collaborative project. We were going to combine our stories and write a comic based on it. We had a lot of discussions on how Blud was reticent to do this in the beginning and how she wanted a contract to be made up so that in the event that something *did* happen, we could both walk away feeling like it was handled fairly.

Honestly, I should have listened to the first alarm that went off in my brain, when, in an act of ominous foreboding she said something along the lines of don't be so sure, it could happen. It was in response to me being like "we're getting along so well and share so much of a bond right now. I can't fathom that being a problem!" 

The contract never materialized. It was something we had decided to do *after* we had put together something of a prototype project to see how well we worked together. It made complete sense to me at the time as we were both eager to focus on the fun parts of writing and drawing together.

It was decided that I would be the lead artist (doing coloring and final lines) while Blud would do everything else (which was inking, layouts, and the majority of the writing). The both of us felt that she had more experience in those areas. I also believed that she had a better knack for it as well. I had felt that she had a better understanding of story structure than myself. And I thought that Blud had felt the same way about my art. That I had the experience to take point on that. 

Since I had collaborated with other artists and writers before, I attempted to approach the project with the same sort of professionalism I always do. Especially the projects that I genuinely thought stood a chance of being published in the future. We had started out trying to get a feel for each other's flows and rhythms. I had expected Blud to try and meet me in the middle of where our processes would potentially differ from one another, so that we could develop a fairly smooth workflow.

I had also expected, according to our discussions on the matter, that we would value each other's opinions on things and take them into consideration. We had such good synchronicity already.

In the beginning, there wasn't any unusual behavior that caught my attention. Blud was a bit uncomfortable with trying out new things but I did my best to accommodate her so that our project could move forward without too much turbulence. She had also mentioned to me before that she was autistic, and since my husband is also autistic, I knew how difficult it could be when it came to adapting to new routines. But when it was time for her to deliver the first set of layouts, it wasn't at all what I expected.

What I had expected was something with margins, clearly marked boxes, and figures that I could do rough lines over. I also expected notes that confirmed what we had discussed earlier about the project; that way I knew what she wanted or if there would be any changes. She took offense to this, feeling like I was violating our agreement. Though Blud did try to give me space with regards to the actual art, and while she would offer criticisms here and there, I trusted her opinion as an artist and as a friend. But apparently that didn't go both ways. In fact, Blud seemed to be offended that I expected more from her.

Blud agreed to concede. She suddenly seemed fine with the changes that I had asked for after seeing the layouts. I guess she was feeling overstimulated by the change and I might have been applying too much of a critical tone to her responses to begin with. I have had to deal with rejection sensitivity throughout my life and it's certainly prompted me to approach what people say to me online with a bit of scrutiny (sometimes too much).

And while I was mildly annoyed, although admittedly I was more concerned with Blud's overall reaction to my asking for clarification about several things in the layouts, I let it go. But it seemed like there was a problem. The majority of my ideas were either rejected or outright overridden with Blud convincing me that my faulty memory had made me unable to remember what we had agreed upon. Or that I might have been misremembering in my own favor.

There was one time where we were discussing a monster's design. Blud had already decided to settle on one design that she had come up with, even as I continued to offer other suggestions. The story was to take place in my setting, so I was under the impression that I got to decide what kind of creatures should populate it. The conversation ended somewhat ambiguously. I had assumed that we'd come to a solid conclusion later. 

I came back the next day and it turned out that we were using her design because that was what we had decided on. "Don't you remember? You really need to do something about that faulty memory of yours, Tek. I can't be doing this for you all the time."

At which point, Blud would go back and meticulously scour the conversation until she managed to find a set of lines that would make it seem as though I had 100% agreed. Even when I tried to explain that I had meant something else, she took it as an affront on her inability to understand nuances due to her autism.

I admit that my memory isn't that greatest at times, but I've never had anyone complain about it before. And none of my friends have ever minded providing reminders to me if I did misremember something incorrectly. We all forget stuff at times, right? It's *still* something that I'm self-conscious about because (like a lot of people with ADHD) my memory seems selective at times. This was, apparently, a problem that I needed to manage. 

And even as I'm remembering these incidents to the best of my ability, I've already spent so much time recounting all of this to friends. I feel confident in my recollection. There are some details that may overlap or become entwined with other things, but it all basically tells the same story. Especially in conjunction with what's been said by others. You're free to take it as hearsay since I do not have screenshots to back this up.

I will mention (since I've been told it's something that Blud has taken particular interest in) that at one point, I did have a crush on her. I was having some problems IRL, and it was nice to have someone whom I felt actually understood me. I also felt like I saw a lot of myself in her. I think that, at one point, I did describe her as the kind of "girlfriend" I would want. Blud seemed to indicate the feeling was mutual.

Between our collaborative partnership and all of the details we shared about our lives, it did feel like an intimate relationship at times. I had no intentions of pursuing it. We were not compatible in our romantic and sexual identities, and I had no intention of leaving my current partner for her.

I had begun to notice red flags, even if I wasn't ready to accept them yet.

I've had experience with abusive relationships in the past but they were in person, and not online. I knew what to look out for and yet I was being willfully ignorant about our friendship. I wanted to give Blud the benefit of the doubt. I wanted the project to work *so* badly that I was willing to work with her increasing demands as the months went by.

I had no idea that those demands would change into, quite literal, temper tantrums. It would then trigger my fawning response which was due to an abusive family situation that I had dealt with before I moved to Canada. The tactic was this: concede to someone until there was a time that they either understood reason or I had the chance to use it against them if necessary.

I started to take screenshots. I wish that I had taken a lot more of them so that everyone could get a better idea of what was happening. I did go back and manage to record the majority of the first outburst. It was the first inkling I had that Blud wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. I knew that that would be one of the first conversations that she would promptly delete. And consequently, I was right.

This assortment of screenshots will exhibit the first serious confrontation that Blud had with me. I am absolutely *not* proud of how I handled this. I was literally panicking at the time and doing whatever I could to get her to calm down. Because I have a temper that can look similar to this in person, I knew that I had to wait until the post-tantrum clarity would hit Blud. I tried my best to not lose my own temper in turn but looking back, I feel that I came off as sounding too timid.

I didn't want to ruin this project.

I wanted to make a comic with an individual that I admired and respected as a fellow artist. And, with me not knowing how to respond, my main priority was to not make things any worse than they already were.

Below is the conversation in its entirety:

I had taken this screenshot on my phone after I had stepped away to compose myself. Blud had handled the confrontation and criticism with a reasonable amount of apprehension. But what had not occurred to me was that I could have said something that would remind her of past experiences with a roleplaying group.

It was something that had evidently scarred Blud for life.

I took away the wrong things from what she had told me, choosing to focus on the aspects of the "betrayal" that had appeared to bother her the most. And in hindsight, I did not see the correlation. I was genuinely apologetic that I had hurt her feelings.

But I *will* critique Blud for her poor handling of the situation. Whether or not I had hurt her feelings, no one is entitled to act like this or claim that this is what attempting to resolve a problem should look like.

I wasn't sure on how to initially respond to Blud. It had been ages since I'd had to deal with someone flying off the handle like that.

The following screenshots are where the conversation picked up, after she had already deleted the above message:

We had weathered the "storm" and after Blud calmed down, she was ready to communicate. There was a part of me that was genuinely sincere when I apologized to her. I did mean it when I said that I had no intentions of hurting her and that I hadn't considered how my statement would sound to her.

I had hoped that this had been a stress response due to factors outside of our collaboration. And especially when I took into account how she had interacted with me in the past. I knew that Blud had a lot going on IRL, and that she had already put a considerable amount of energy into this project.

I had taken her meltdown more personally than she could perceive that I would, because this was something that was acceptable to her. She had a "condition" that would absolve her of these abhorrent meltdowns and I needed to get used to them if we were going to continue working on that project together.

I was shaking the entire time we were typing in the chat.

I was sincere in my responses. I really did want to work things out with Blud and give her the benefit of the doubt. I could have been taking the things that she said too personally or maybe I had been reading too much into the situation. Was there a chance that I could have been misreading her outburst? I tried my best to keep an open mind though I was still somewhat baffled by the fact that she would have meltdowns as often as she did.

I confided in my husband and some other friends about the situation. They were also bewildered by Blud's actions.

By this point, I was struggling with the reality that this collaboration was most likely *not* going to work out but I still wanted to try. I still cared about Blud. We would still hang out together and talk about things like music, our characters, or our stories.

While I did have the foresight to go back and screenshot this section, I wasn't fast enough to get screenshots of everything else that I will be going over. Blud *did* admit to going back and deleting certain exchanges due to a mixture of shame; not wanting to look at them when she would scroll through our conversations. 

In retrospect, it was very telling.

And even after that meltdown, I still enjoyed the friendship that I had with her. I kept my guard up but I was willing to make compromises on her behalf if it resulted in better communication between the two of us. Blud made me promise to immediately tell her if I had a problem with something. I also agreed to keep notes of our conversations.

It worked for the most part.

In the end though, it became apparent that Blud wasn't willing to do the same for me (even after we had an extended conversation about it). I then realized that I had been tasked with basically *managing* her autism for her. I was already busy with my supposedly "bad memory" at the time; and Blud was more than ready to scroll back up through our conversations to cherry-pick a line or two of text to remind me of what was said earlier.

Because, for her, circumstances couldn't ever change. If they did, it would mean that Blud had lost control of the situation and that she was in the wrong. She could *not* be in the wrong. 

And if she was in the wrong? It would take solid evidence, three witnesses, and a court of law to prove it.

She had two other major meltdowns after this. I managed to step away from communicating with her through one of them and I don't remember the other meltdown lasting very long. She immediately deleted the texts of both of those instances before I could take screenshots of them.

It seemed like I could do nothing right when it came to Blud, no matter the lengths I would go to accommodate her. I knew that it was a common tactic used by abusers. I finally accepted that our partnership wasn't going to work out and I began thinking about an exit strategy. The final straw was when she began to expect me to be at her beck and call.

I had promised that I would be there for her, within reason, and I was willing to offer reassurances whenever she would ask me for them. The promise had been made back when we had first started to talk to one another with more frequency, before Blud had shown me her true colors. I would end up completely underestimating just how badly she would need reassurance.

To be frank, I underestimated a lot about Blud in the beginning.

I would end up mentioning that I enjoyed my space in several different conversations with her. That there was a chance that I might be offline for several days so I could take care of things IRL and recharge my social batteries. I'm somewhat of a recluse. And an adult who enjoys things that aren't online.

She said that it was fine.

I became incredibly anxious when I would talk to Blud, especially after her somewhat abrupt change in personality.

I then attempted to put my foot down about boundaries and this is what she had to say:

I decided to walk away for a bit and I came back after I had had some time to think things over. This wasn't healthy for either of us. I wrote a couple of sentences to say goodbye to Blud before I blocked her. I knew that my actions would probably infuriate her. She had told me in the past that she *hated* not being able to have the final word... which she was able to do through email:

“And I'm not letting you pretend you have control over the situation, or the high ground. You distinctly have neither. But since you're determined to stick to your 'principles' on this, I've decided to make it easier for you.”

She thought that she was absolved of all sins just because I had said that I would stand by her at her worst. And at the time that I said that, I had no idea that her worst would be her trying everything possible to protect her boundaries while stomping all over mine. It didn't matter what she said or how often she would apologize when I would confront her. She kept doing it.

I admit that I wasn't perfect in this situation either.

There were times when I was condescending, critical, or downright mean when I talked to Blud because that was the way I had felt when she was talking to me. I soon realized that it didn't matter either way. I could have been using the friendliest tone imaginable and she still would have perceived it as either mocking or dismissive on my end. There were even a few times where I would preface my explanations with an advisory “please know that I am not attacking you and try to read this in an understanding tone,”etc. I would then post an explanation I had spent hours picking at to ensure that there was no way she could misinterpret the intent. Even so, she still read the majority of what I said as criticism and would take it to heart.

I never expected Blud to do something that made her uncomfortable; nor did I expect her to overextend herself when it came to our project. I would go out of my way to make sure everything was fine when we would talk about it. I only expected mutual respect in return.

When we would get into discussions (arguments), she would never attempt to understand my point of view or let me explain myself. It would have made it about me when it should have been about Blud and her needs. She sometimes would agree to come to a compromise about something, but only if I would admit that I was in the wrong.

I know that if Blud was to look at these screenshots, she'd be incredulous that I'm trying to distract from the horrible things that *I* did. And those horrible things that I did? I tried my best to work with her.

It wasn't just her poor teamwork that bothered me. It was her attitude and the lack of respect that she showed me. She would never ask me to clarify something that I said; always assuming that it was a criticism against her. I can only speculate that Blud did not want to hear about how any of this was her fault, like in the email she sent me.

I don't know if I was actually her friend at any point. Friends make efforts to understand one another. Ideally, they’d want their friendships to continue, and they would want everyone to be getting along and having fun. She seemed to actively defy that.

I would argue that things like this don't just happen in a vacuum. There's almost always a reason for such things, but it's honestly a mystery to me as to where this vitriol comes from. I don't know why Blud sees monsters in every word, especially if they come from a  "friend". 

I've seen her viscously mock herself during meltdowns; it seems like she hates herself and expects everyone else to hate her too. I think that she wants it to be the truth, so that it validates the feelings she has about herself. The behavior patterns that I'd been exposed to are consistent with the idea that Blud is seeking confirmation about the personal assumptions she has about herself. It's what makes her so volatile to those around her. Yet, she refuses to break the cycle.

I hope that she can make that choice in the future but at this point, I'm not holding my breath.

[yvnaology]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ UNDENIABLY GUILEFUL.

꒰ jealous! lyney x reader ꒱ ⋮ 1.2k wc, friends to lovers trope, confession scene, romantic hurt/comfort (barely) to fluff, no pronouns specified for reader, lynette & freminet cameo, merged request, dialogues chosen by both requesters will be in bold. requested by @fairykazu & @ceneid [ thank you for requesting !! ]

[ ✐ᝰ REQ. 02 + 06 ] FONTINALIA FILM FESTIVAL !

He kept his gaze settled onto his custom-made cards, he skillfully shuffled the deck - all while trying to ignore the person eliciting playful giggles and light slaps against his arm from you. The gentleman was quite the charmer, earning your undivided attention. Earning, more like stealing.

“Are you sulking?” Lynette asked, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the slight twitch of his fingers, usually so adept and versatile, halted at the sight of the man’s lovestruck stare that was painfully apparent to be directed at you.

“No, i’m not.”

He felt one of his cards slip out of his hands and onto the grime.

“It looks like you are.”

He sighed before leaning down to pick up the card, the faint stain of dirt on the edge causing him to groan. “I just..”

The half-feline only crossed her arms at his hesitance, a trait he didn’t commonly have. “You just what?” she pressed, urging him to spill whatever was holding him back.

“I shouldn’t be sulking over it.” he finished with a weakened smile, before Lynette uncrossed her arms and put a hand on his shoulder - gently turning him to face her.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t be - but you are.. and that’s okay.” she replied as she took the card out of his hand, pulling out a handkerchief from her hat as she prepared to wipe off the smear of filth.

“Is it?”

“Mhm, but you like them, don’t you?”

He felt the tips of his ears burning, but once reminded of the sight of you teasingly poking your smitten friend’s arm - they immediately cooled. “I do, but..”

(Why would you ever bat an eye at him?)

His sister was as perceptive as he was, he didn’t dare hold any doubts about that. She placed the card into his palm before nudging his shoulder. “But nothing, you need to believe in yourself more.”

“But what if they already—“

“Go.”

“What?” he inquired, as she pointed her finger right at the table you and your friend were sitting at. “Give them a show they won’t forget, that’s apart of our job - isn’t it?”

Genuine confusion spread throughout every square inch of his face as he listened to her suggestion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Figure it out.”

He contemplated her recommended choice of action before lifting his gaze from the ground, noticing Freminet approaching your table with slow, steady steps. What was he doing?

His lips were moving, blonde bangs covering his eyes - clearly communicating with you until your eyes darted towards Lyney’s slumped over figure. His amethyst colored irises immediately averted to the ground once more, before he hears footsteps. He looks dejected, like a cat unable to find its owner - like a magician without an audience to perform for.

“Did you want to sit with us?” were the first words that came out of your mouth, finding himself with bated breath as he shook his head. “I was originally planning to show you my latest tricks over tea, but it seems as like you have... company.” his voice gradually deceased decreased in volume, only confirming your suspicions that he felt a certain way about your companion.

“You can come perform them at our table, i’m sure he won’t mind.”

“He’ll go, he’s just feeling the pre-show jitters.”

“Lynette!”

The sudden interference from his dear sister made you chuckle, a reminder that their relationship would forever remain just like this - close, full of trust and playful affection. It was the kind of relationship most would feel envious of, but it only warmed your heart a little more when Lyney’s hand tapped his leg, it appeared almost instinctive. Was he nervous?

You led him over to the table you and your friend were sitting at, taking your seat and watching him pinch the edge of the flat brim before removing the hat from his head - flipping it over and noticing your friend’s uninterested expression. “Not to worry, I promise this’ll be worth it.” he affirmed.

“Just remember to keep your eyes on me.”

(And to not let your gaze wander to someone else.)

His sentence felt targeted, and the skip of your heart beat led you to believe his words were meant for your ears only. For a second, you forgot there was a third party sitting near you. Hypnotic, utterly alluring his every movement was - trained to capture your attention, and to never let it go.

His finger tips grazed the brim, a key motion you were almost certain had something to do with the oncoming trick. He presented the inside of it to the two of you, empty, as expected. He twirled the band with his digits, before turning the hat over once again and aiming the bottom of it upwards - watching as an ethereal dove emerged, carrying a rainbow rose in its beak. Its winged flight only lasted for a few short seconds, before landing onto the table and dropping the stem beside your plate of macarons. You eyed your comrade’s annoyed expression, furrowed eyebrows and a frown etched on his face as he suddenly stood up.

“Oh? Weren’t the biggest fan of this one?” Lyney innocently inquired, after all - he didn’t find anything wrong with it. The male only muttered a few impolite phrases before pushing his chair in and leaving the scene. “Hm, I presume he must’ve gotten the hint?”

“Or you scared him off.”

“Or the dove scared him off.”

“Lyney.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

He hummed, strutting forward until taking the seat next to you. “I wasn’t trying to be, at least.. not this time.”

“What are we?”

“Friends.”

You grumbled in annoyance at his snarky answer, leaning in until your faces were centimeters away from each other. “Friends don’t do the things we do and this just proves my point.”

“This?” he questions, though you knew that he was aware of what you were referring to.

“You were jealous, weren’t you?” whether he wanted to get his hidden point across or scare away the other spectator was something you weren’t sure of just yet. The grin plastered on your face was always a welcoming sight, if only it weren’t used to poke fun at him.

“Don’t tease me.” he grumbled, before pulling your hand into his own and twiddling your fingers idly. “At least admit you like me to soothe my poor, utterly broken heart.”

“I like you too.”

“Do you?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

From three tables away, Freminet watched as Lynette washed down her Madeleine with a cup of green tea. The air surrounding them filled with a warm familiarity that only occurred when you two were in the center of it all. Though, Freminet could feel his sister’s ease by the lack of rapid movement in her ears and tail. A leisurely pace that enveloped the atmosphere, causing it feel as if time itself had come to a stop.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Freminet worriedly asked, noticing Lyney’s pouty expression from a distance.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine.” Lynette reassured before turning her head over to you two - encouraging Freminet to do the same. His worry vanished in an instant the second he noticed your arms wrapped around each other, staring into each other’s eyes before your finger poked his nose - causing the magician to let out a sweetened giggle.

“They look happy.”

(And would continue to be so.)

[scoutswritingcorner]

Borrowing The Chauffeur

Alastor x GN!Chauffeur!Reader

A/N: To the lovely @aboyscriminalrecord because I want to and I love Alastor being a sneaky lil shit.

TW:Alastor being Alastor, Vox being angry.

Of course Alastor remembered you, it was when you first started working for Vox all those years ago when they were still on good terms with one another. Such a quiet and frightful thing you were. But he could admit, you were the best driver around hell. Always made sure everything was orderly and the ride was smooth sailing. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t miss you. Because truthfully, he did. He missed how you had that silent confidence about yourself and how your darling smile just lit up the room or well..car, he never really saw you outside of work. Like you were almost invisible to the wandering eyes of hell.

But now he found himself walking out of the hotel doors and waiting for you to appear with a car so you could drive him around. He missed you dearly. Maybe he could persuade Vox to let you drive for him. Or..he could persuade you. His smile grew wider at the thought, he’d just have to pay you a little visit, did you still live in those old apartments on the outskirts of the entertainment district? He’d just have to go take a look for himself, the other three wouldn’t mind you getting a little bit more cash especially with what Vox pays you.

When he arrived and knocked on the familiar apartment door, he looked down and saw the ‘Voxtech’ gift basket next to it he grimaced. He’s still sending you those stupid gifts even after all these years? It took two more knocks but you eventually opened the door and to his surprise, you were in Voxtech pajamas but the look on your face made it all worth it. The way your hair was messed up to the drool falling down your chin, he would’ve found it disgraceful for anyone to be in his presence looking like that but he knew you. “Hello, Deer~” You reached up, wiping at your eyes and then face before staring up at him. “Did you have a good nap?” He asked carefully, pushing past you walking into your apartment, looking around to see a few things that have moved ever since he saw you last.

You closed the door and turned to him, “I-I wasn’t expecting any visitors today, Sir.” You said not looking in his direction scared of what he might do to you. Would he kill you? Is this how he knocked Vox down one peg? A soft hum escaped him as he walked around before he walked back over to you, watching as you fidgeted with your pants. “Of course not, I’ve simply come by to ask you a favor.” He replied, watching as you finally looked up at him. “I simply miss having you as my chauffeur and I was wondering if you could do so? I’ll pay you every time of course.” He brushed fake dust off his chest as he watched your body relax.

You thought about it for a moment, it shouldn’t really mess with your schedule that much and he’s less likely to drive around the Vee’s tower..You looked up, “That’s it? Just want me to drive you around?” You asked hoping he wouldn’t bring you into a contract over this. While you sorta..know him, you know his games and you’d rather not be on a leash even now. Alastor nodded and leaned down closer to your face, “That won’t be a problem?” He asked, his voice dropping a few octaves, you silently shook your head and his smile grew before he stood back up to his full height. “Splendid~” You froze and cleared your throat, “There is a problem though, sir. I don’t know where you're staying and I frankly don't know if you have a car..” You smiled at him before he waved his hand away, dismissing your concerns.

~~

A little headcanons here cause I want to-

The only car he has (he summoned) is a 1933 Cadillac 355-C Town Sedan that’s a dark red in color. You are only allowed to drive it, anyone else is killed on sight if they so much as touch it. 

He enjoys sitting in the back reading the paper, listening to old jazz play and having you drive him around. He allows only a few people in the car with him that includes Nifty, Husk, Rosie and Mimzy. You of course but you're the driver so you don’t need to worry about him getting angry at you for such a thing!

Your outfit is a totally different one than the one you wear for the Vee’s. It’s a uniform from the 1930’s and once again it’s red and black with a few spots of gray here and there. It suits his color scheme better and he adores how the red looks on you.

He doesn’t call you often for you to pick him up from the hotel but when he does it’s usually because he either has a meeting to go to, he wants to go out on the town with Rosie or he’s rubbing it in Vox’s face. 

While Alastor is a dickhead to many, he’s less of a dickhead to you. He’s known you much longer than most of his acquaintances and he appreciates you. So if he knows how horrible your sleeping habits are? He’s marching you up to your apartment and making you stay home until you get enough sleep. He’ll beat the shit out of Vox if he bothers you.

He also pays you well like- sometimes better than the Vee’s combined. But if he can’t really give you the money? He’s paying you with food. He will pack it up for you like the good house husband he is and send you back home.

When you give him the tupperware back please give him some of your cooking or baking just nothing too overly sweet. He’ll be nice and tell you some ways you could add a little extra spice into your food or tips on how to cook something better. 

This lowkey turned into me talking about house husband Alastor and I need more of that. Anyways. He loves driving around with you and whenever he can, he’ll steal you from the Vee’s which pisses them off so much.

[leisureflame]

"I CANT THINK"

If you write, I assure you you have thought that.

Fear no more child, for I have found a solution.

it's called Rapid writing

something we learned when I was in 9th grade drama class and I cannot emphasize enough just how effective it is. Its actually what gave me the idea for my first book.

Stop what you are doing and do what I tell you

go grab either a pencil and paper (or open an empty document)

set a timer for 2 minutes

ask a friend to give you a random sentence. I have a few examples that I myself rapid wrote to: a) I looked around and saw b) the old lady hung from the ceiling and laughed c) purple paint dripped from her long purple fingernails d) there is a hole in my ceiling. e) when I am sad I... f) When you close the door, I... g) there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob

Now the most important thing is not to think of this sentence before you start writing. as soon as you decide which one if you are choosing from my examples (or as soon as you hear it if you are getting if from a friend), start the timer.

start writing the sentence and without hesitating just keep writing. the #1 rule here is to not stop or hesitate for a single second until the 2 minutes are over. you can write nonsense if you want and if you REALLY can't continue then write some random words for a couple of seconds then continue AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL WRITING.

another rule is that you are not allowed to delete. even if its a spelling error, just ignore it.

after the timer is done, I promise you will have something to work with. now copy the paragraph you wrote and paste it below, here you can start fixing spelling errors and adding things at your own pace because now the creative side of your brain has opened.

don't think about the way you are writing or the words you use, think about the story you are telling. the idea.

Sometimes you will get something beautiful and deep like I did here:

When I am sad I go to my blanket, not many people know about it, all they think is happening is that a child likes to cuddle in a blanket, but no. my blanket has a special thing about it, it is a magical blanket, well, not the blanket itself but the embroidery on the blanket, it simply takes my sadness away but it adds the story of my emotions to the embroidery, my blanket is a very pretty one, it is a pastel blue color and it has so much silk embroideries that you just think its patterns, but it isn't, if you look deeper you will find stories every one of those stories came from someones tears... my tears. whenever i cry, i wipe my tears with my blanket and my pain goes but my story stays.

or

there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob on the door there is a painting of you, and there are many locks on the door from top to bottom, when you open the door, there is a mirror. this door is the door to self discovery, from the outside there is a painting of how people think you look like but when you open the door, you get to see what you really are in detail and look at yourself they way you want to, you can smile or cry and the refection on the mirror will change but on the painting, it doesn't show ur emotions, just how people see you usually.

or you can get something so stupid like i did here:

there is a hole in the ceiling in my classroom. everyday a dinosaur would a pear and eat my lunch and i keep coming home hungry but my mom dsays she packed me enough food. so she didn't feed me. i told her a dinasour was eating my lunch but she said that disasours only live in Norway! so i went into the school vents looking for that idino and revenge my food, we met at last, held our weapons, i was holding a subway sandwich and the dino was holding a bana na MY BANANA  i lost it, so i attacked him one hit on the head and the whole species were extinct , people thousand of years from now said dinos got extinct because of a meteorite but i know better, also i am still alive because whoever kills a dino becomes immortal, also i killed my mom for not believing me and let her starve in her grave just like she let made me starve. and then i killed everyone who was a flat earther because i hate them and now i can kill anyone once i tap them with my super subway sandwich 

(by the way, ignore the horrible spelling, the examples i gave were from the unedited version.)

THE POINT IS ITS ACTUALLY SO HELPFUL. you can use it for a new story idea (i used the blanket one as an element in one of my WIPs and it helped the story a lot) or if you get something stupid like the dino one I wrote THATS GOOD THATS FINE because now you have your creativity going.

I challenge you to actually try this and PLEASE share it with me I LOVE reading other peoples rapid writings. have fun <3

tagging @cosmosandcapybaras24 @ajsbookshelf @gloryofdawn, @chaoticharmony93 @deception-united and anyone else who's interested to try this out and share with me!