#relationships are allowed to be built off attraction

[blood-smiles]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐓!

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ

↝ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — TW : yandere character . SFW . Kissing . Slightly suggestive but nothing happens… yet ⁽⁽٩(๑˃̶͈̀ ᗨ ˂̶͈́)۶⁾⁾

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ

So.. You had a crush.

And not a little one, but like a BIG one, possibly the size of a house.

You loved your job because you got to see him everyday, your huge little crush. It may sound cruel, but you were happy that so many people died and needed to get fixed up— So that you could go see the beauty that your heart craves.

Dario Spade. A tall, ravenette with cheekbones that put live action Maleficent to shame, eyes bright as emeralds, chartreuse irises that you could get lost in any day of the week.

You sighed dreamily, wheeling in a dead body with a white sheet over it on a trolley. Your heart beat in your chest with the intensity of a war drum, delicate butterfly wings brushing against the walls of your stomach in a flurry.

You peeked your head into the room where the long haired male stood, writing something down in a black leather notebook.

You gently knocked on the door frame, your hands smoothing your hair before clearing your throat.

“Heeeeey.. What’s cooking, good looking?” You flirted hopelessly, your ancestors face palming from above at your courting attempts.

You leaned against the trolley, sending you stumbling forwards, thankfully Dario had moved swiftly and caught you in his arms.

“(Y—Y/N)!” He called your name with a soft tone of surprise, you batted your eyelashes, the gentle sound of his voice really did feel like the angels were singing a ballad just for you.

His lips moved to form words, and you just stared shamelessly, not even trying to hide your obvious infatuation.

His teeth were pearl white, straight and somehow attractive. You blinked slowly, nodding your head and smiling at whatever he was saying.

Dario.. The man that you are. You thought with no shame as you fidgeted with the buttons of your uniform.

Dario could just stare at you forever, but he didn’t want to scare you off so he just started clearing out the patient bed and carefully placing the new cadaver on the metallic chair.

“What are you doing?” You asked thoughtfully, leaning over to check out what the process of embalming was.

“Just.. Draining blood.” He murmured, looking at you from under his hair, a soft blush forming on his almost sickly pale skin.

“(Y/N).. A-Are you allowed to be here? I think.. That you might get in trouble if your supervisor notices..” 

You shook your head, ironing your shirt down with your palms, cooking up a reply to his sweet concern.

“Nuh-uh.. But you know I would kiss a rotting cadaver for you Even if that meant getting fired.” You watched how his body seized up with embarrassment, cheeks burning red again at your strange remarks.

Somehow it worked.

He swiped his split tongue over his bottom lip, a flustered whisper leaving his lips. You didn’t even know what he said, you were too focused on his tongue.

..His tongue must work wonders.

You forced your gaze up, looking into his eyes, only to find that they were already staring at you.

His hand fidgeted with a scalpel in his bony hand, mentally mapping out where he would make small incisions.

He could also practice.. cutting meat for you, so when you come home tired from work he can cut something up for you and feed you.

Just the thought of having a relationship as intimate and domestic like that made blood run south.

Now that he thought about it..

His house wasn’t very far from the mortuary, it was a quaint little flat with little light, just enough for one person or perhaps two.

“A-After I’m done with him would you..” he paused, eyes closing tight as the words climbed up his throat “—Would you like to have some tea with me back at my place?”

He did it, phew. He could swear that blood was about to start dripping down his nose, pressure built up in his chest as he awaited your answer.

“Hell yes.” You didn’t even blink while answering him, a dopey grin breaking out on your lips as you heard the words that you had been hoping for so long.

The drive to his house was smooth, instead of looking out the window at the scenery you found yourself staring at his pretty side profile.

What hair products did he use? No matter what day or hour it was, you always found that the raven hair atop his head was always styled and pristine, glossy even under the dim and cheap lighting of the mortuary.

You had noticed that he had put in some jewelry into his skin, something you were completely unaware about but somehow even more enamored by.

Your dear admirer almost bit a hole through one of his cheeks, his teeth nervously chewing on the soft skin of his inner cheek. It was so hard for Dario to drive and look at you at the same time, it was driving him nuts— It was like a dream having you in his passenger seat.

He had been so nervous since this morning, during his shower he had made up his mind about telling you what he really felt about you— How he followed you home everyday, how he knew things about you that even your own mother didn’t know!

That he sleeps in the same bed with you when you have nightmares, that he watches you bathe and fingers himself on your bed. Today, he made up his mind. He was going to make out with you until you saw stars— Today. He was going to make you allll his.

Dario stood behind you, his palm brushing the small of your back. Your inquisitive eyes roamed his apartment, the first item to greet you being a taxidermy mount of a deer on the wall, you blinked slowly, nodding your head as if approving of the internal decoration.

You were guided to a comfy couch, you know, like the ones that are so incredibly comfortable that you never want to get up from there ever again.

Dario came back to you with impeccable timing, two porcelain teacups in hand, a pleasant odor coming from the both of them, (favorite flavor) tea and.. Damiana tea?

You hummed, thanking him and taking the cup from his hand, sipping contently your warm beverage.

Dario sat beside you, you faced him and he did the same, his knee bounced anxiously.

He looked nervous, his fist tightened around his knee, trying to look into your eyes for longer than two seconds.

His mind completely blank, shit. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to ease you into his confession?

“Remember when we met?” You asked with an understanding smile, helping him out on the conversation topic. His face lit up and a fond smile spread over his face at the precious memories.

The old guy who used to work in your position died, Dario was apprehensive about anyone else other than him really coming into contact. 

He never had an easy time making friends or communicating with others, he felt as if every time he would open his mouth to speak he would get overshadowed by a more extroverted person, or get strange looks for simply commenting on something.

So naturally he was suspicious of you. Were you one of those people who only wanted to befriend him to look better in others eyes? 

He was originally pretty cold and rude to you, he couldn’t allow anyone else into his heart. Not when so many had taken it for granted and trampled all over it like it was nothing.

Dario watched you try and try again to befriend him, he genuinely thought that soon you would grow tired and begin giving the treatment that he gave you. Once, a time he truly regrets, he lashed out on you, going as far as pushing you into a desk corner, accidentally hurting you.

Yet you still stood there, despite getting humiliated and in this occasion, injured, you still mustered a smile, apologizing to him about coming on too hard. 

His heart cracked a little, he looked deep into your eyes, searching for a sign of malice— That you wanted to hurt him too, but he found nothing other than empathy and.. comprehension.

That day his heart melted, Dario let his walls down a little, enough for you to peek at his true self through cracks in the ice fortress he had built, though never enough to let you inside.

He noticed, you were dorky and a hopeless romantic, he couldn’t help but become slowly endeared by you, he wondered if you had practice dark magic on him, charmed him with your otherworldly powers.

He misjudged your character, you were sweet, caring, honest, a horrible flirt but most importantly, a good person.

He had found you. He had placed the scraps of his ruined heart in your hands, with affection and patience you took what was left and carefully stitched it back together.

It wasn’t perfect, there were still deep scars of trauma, open wounds that still needed time to be mended—But he had you now.

And you had him, you could trust him, that he would never hurt you like he had before. Never again.

Dario’s hands trembled around his empty cup, he took deep breaths, his heart beating in his throat. His brain told him to stop, that there was no way that you would ever take interest in a weird hermit like him.

But his heart lead him, it reassured him that you were different, that you would still be by his side even if you didn’t accept his feelings. The thought hurt more than he could handle, but he preferred having you around him even as just a friend rather than leaving you.

“(Y/N). I want to..to tell you something.” He spoke firmly, almost robotically. His hands began to break out in a cold sweat, an uncertain feeling of doom curling around him like dark smoke.

“I-I know we had a bad beginning, but. I really appreciate you, I don’t know what I would be like if you hadn’t come into my life.” His breath shuddered, getting closer and closer to revealing it all.

“Thank you. Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for everything.” 

“But.. I wanted to tell you something different. I don’t know how you will react, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore— It hurts so bad not knowing..” 

“(Y/N), I.. I think—No, I know that I’m in love with you.” It’s out, Dario thought, his eyes widening at his own words, he didn’t even think he would be able to get it out.

He eyed the bottom of your expression, not being able of meeting your eyes directly. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if you hated him now?

He rushed to apologize after a beat of silence, oh dear, he had really done it now, hadn’t he?

“I mean! It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way! I-I understand—Ah! Uhm! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!“ 

His eyes began brimming with tears, you hadn’t said anything yet. He had lost his first and only friend, all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

He looked up at your expression finally, expecting to see a disgusted glare, perhaps even a hateful look but he was surprised.

You were shell shocked, your eyes were wide for a moment but the that melted away and a happy smile began to appear on your face.

“I love you too.” You replied, no sappy words or a cringy pickup line this time. Dario was going to cry again, not in dread, but in joy.

He jumped on top of you, his knees beside your hips, he trapped you inside his arms, his hands hovering over your cheeks, waiting for a sign to keep going.

“Sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable—“ he began shifting his body to get off, only to be stopped when your hands gently landed on his waist, keeping him in place where he was.

His cold hands finally touched the warm skin of your face, you watched how his pupils dilated at the soft feeling of your flesh. 

His green eyes really did sparkle like the rarest of emeralds, his pale cheeks gained color, a beautiful blush spread over his cheekbones, he looked like he almost couldn’t believe that this was reality.

He leaned in, looking into your eyes for approval, you nodded. Dario pressed his lips against yours with the softness of a feather, you thought he was going to pull away but were taken by surprise when he changed the position of his hand to grab the back of your head, fingers clutching your hair.

He angled his head, losing himself in the passionate kiss, he wanted to taste all of you, he tasted the flavor of (favorite tea) all in your mouth, it made him wonder if you would allow him to feed you like a baby bird.

He mewled into your mouth, not knowing what to do with this new level of intimacy. Your hands gently landed gently tapped his sides trying to tell him to let you breathe for a moment.

Dario pulled away for a second, he allowed you to take in as much as air as you needed, but just because you stopped doesn’t mean he did too, he pressed loving kisses along your face, beginning at the corner of your mouth then slowly trailing up, over your left cheek, and stopping at your temple for just a second then moving to gently nibble on your earlobe.

You couldn’t help but blush, not knowing that Dario could get this bold. He didn’t stop there, he gently kissed the underside of your jaw, nipping the sturdy bone structure ever so slightly.

He saw the way you averted his eyes, too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. How the roles had reversed, where did that sweet talker he knew go?

He didn’t need to say “I love you” out loud for it to be know, he spelled it out with his tongue already, he’s sure that you understood too.

Dario was breathless and flushed when he pulled away, he wanted to laugh at your face, you looked so surprised that he just wanted to kiss that expression off you.

“Stay over.. please?” He asked so nicely that you couldn’t find it in you to say no, he adjusted his position to sit next to you, with a hand he pushed you down to lay on his lap. His fingers gently patting your head in an attempt to relax you.

Dario would never let you go now. Or ever.

[essycogany]

Rare But Not So Rare Sonic Moments

Sonic Swooning Over Amy

So, Sonic’s been kind of the driving force of Sonamy recently. Let’s analyze that.

I’ll show Sonic having feelings for Amy in almost every media aside from Fleetway and the few cartoons she isn’t in. I’ll also present the “whys” in more detail then just “Amy calmed down.” While that’s part of it, I’d like to add my own can of worms. And possible headcanons too. Bear in mind I never grew up with Sonic, so forgive my mixed opinions.

While I love Amy having a crush on Sonic like the energetic sugarplum she is, nowadays Sonic’s oddly been the drive of their dynamic. Any examples of it beforehand? Let’s look outside of the games first.

Sonic X

This Sonic takes more time to himself. He’s introverted, so his feelings for her isn’t displayed as obviously as the others. In fact, most people think he didn’t like her in this show because of how much he runs away. He even manipulated her by flirting in one episode. In my opinion this show has Sonic running away from Amy more often than not. Hot take: Sonic and Amy never had a real conversation either. They didn’t…talk like they do now. Unless you count,

“Oh, Sonic I love you!” “Ah! C’mon, Amy. Knock it off!” No, it wasn’t constant but still common.

From my point of view, the conversations were short lived to none existent. It was the same in the earlier games too. Compared to how they talked to other characters or now, you might be able to notice. At least until Sonic And The Black Night where he talks to both The Lady Of The Lake and Amy. The two would also have visual gags of Sonic getting aggressively hugged by Amy. Or Amy falling on her face while trying. Aside from one moment in Sonic Riders where Sonic put Amy in danger, it wasn’t good or bad. Just cartoony for lack of a better term.

Maybe I’m just insane. You decided.

Anyhow, their dynamic in X is clearly built on actions. Like Amy giving Sonic a seashell bracelet and Sonic giving her a rose. Those little things. While I do prefer them being able to hold longer conversations, I don’t mind how X handles them. But let’s get to Sonic’s crush. I assume in Sonic X Sonic is conflicted. He’ll run away from Amy or try to pull from her on most occasions and others Sonic would constantly hold onto her when he doesn’t have to. For a long period on time no less. Amy’s the same way. One moment she’d be head over heels and other she’s bashful. Goes to show how young they were I guess. I have no clue as to why Sonic liked her back because there wasn’t much to go off of. Except the bracelet moment or her general kindness like feeding him one time. She was a bit much to him and most characters back then.

It’s possible Sonic just liked her and that was it, but I’d imagine due to all of the hand holding and small reciprocated gestures were enough to convey something was there. Straight forward and simple like the show itself. I headcanon this Sonamy being where the boyfriend gets dragged into a relationship and is fine with it. This version of Sonic’s attraction seems to be chaotic pink hedgehogs apparently.

Sonic Boom

Should I even explain it? Might as well because not only do I have something different to say, but these two haven’t been brought up much. Sonic and Amy’s romance mostly is played for laughs. Not saying their love for each other means less because of that, but the humor is the main reason they exist. Much like why in the main canon they started out the way they did. Regardless, I’ll dive deeper into Boom!Sonic’s affection for Amy to the best of my ability.

Boom!Sonic is egotistical, so whenever he thinks Amy’s crushing on someone else, it bothers him. Apparently he’s the only one she’s allowed to like. No “Radical Speedsters” or “Celebrities” can take her attention away from him. Like in Sonic X he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. Even though both him and Amy are terrible at it.

The moment in “Fortress Of Squalitude” a episode where everyone is a bit rude to Amy, close to the end Sonic says, “We may have a hard time saying it Amy. But…well you know.” Then she responds with, “Yeah, I know.” It’s such a sweet moment. Not as powerful as most moments with them but for Boom it’s very nice. Sonic and the others still value her as part of the team, but it’s Sonic who expresses it out loud. Goes to show how much he cares about her for even attempting to open up in this instance. Didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Amy understood perfectly. I also noticed how much he tries his best to impress her. When he needs to return her book back, finds her hammer in Archie, (Vector did it in the show and Sonic got jealous) shows off randomly or dreams about her, and stopped racing to get her some eggs in one episode.

The funny thing about this Sonic is how much of a people pleaser he can be. Especially since the towns people are very spoiled and ungrateful. He wants to be needed and that’s possibly why he goes out of his way to do special things for Amy like go out on picnics, implied dates, and comforts her. She’s very take charge in Boom and Sonic has no problem calling her out when he needs to. Much like Amy in the show and games. Sonic will even put effort into doing things he doesn’t feel like doing for her. How honorable of him. Sure, sometimes he tries to make her jealous and isn’t perfect, but he tries. I believe Sonic likes Amy because again like Sonic X Boom isn’t canon, so more outright reciprocated feelings are allowed in this case. Not to mention the dude likes being shipped with her in the show. Which is a win in my book.

Sonic enjoys bugging Amy much like a playful boyfriend. He probably admires her leadership, but I’m saying this by observation. It could be for anything. Maybe he thinks she’s cute when she’s mad and finds her temper amusing. It could also be for her stubbornness. Some people like each other because of how much they can relate to their partner and in Sonic Boom’s case they’re two cuts of the same cloth. Although still different, due to the show’s theme, they carry the same condescending, slightly self centered, hotheaded, stubborn, and humorous traits. But they’re still good hedgehogs with a heart of gold and usually makes reasonable decisions. Not to mention they’re both equally shy about their crushes. In Sonic Boom, Sonic and Amy is that married couple who doesn’t get along much, but when they do you’ll understand why they stay together.

Reboot Archie Sonic

I haven’t read the comics (unless you count watching a few dubs and internet reviews) but I’ll give my limited thoughts. Luckily there’s not much to say. Although most people believe it was unintentional, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch that someone from Archie thought it was a fun idea to have Sonic crush on somone in this reboot. Maybe it’s unintentional but it doesn’t seem that way.

I’m basically using this part of the post to ramble about how Reboot Archie’s Sonic still manages to be a casanova. He’s like a mixture of his old self and how he is in the games. That’s also why he acts the way he does around Amy. Could it also possibly mean he’s meant to like her canonically too? Reboot Archie did have to follow a more accurate way of writing Sonic after all. Anyways, let’s run down the list of Game!Sonic if he was allowed to be down bad for Amy like they’re already dating. Which is how I view this continuity. It’s basically if Boom and X had a weird fusion and this version of Sonic’s crush was the result. Except here he manages to be more bold and upfront. He knows what he’s doing. Here’s a run down.

First of all, THIS. No joke, more of these interactions would send me to the moon. I would explain why but the panel speaks for itself.

Sonic says, “I was worried about you.” Which he hasn’t admitted to her before this to my knowledge. He states this by giving her a side hug. Along with other out of nowhere physical affection and flirting. Not to single out Sonally fans. Sonic and Sally clearly have a close connection people appreciate and I respect that. In any case, Sonic and Amy in Reboot Archie also matches energies so much. They’re both clearly running off the same brain cell. You’d think they were together. They’d be a chaotic couple that’ll do the most outlandish things and somehow manage to survive them. After willfully risking their lives they’d do it again because being normal and safe is boring. I promise you, this version of Sonamy would be a huge force to be reckoned with.

-I’d also like to mention my friend Salty showed an example of Sonic being jealous of Knuckles coming with Amy on a mission and it’s brilliant. Dude gets all bratty about it too. Archie!Sonic does not play around. The post in question.

Sonic Prime

Already talked about this in another post, but I want to mention it again. Prime!Sonic is the most sensitive version of the character, so it’s no surprise he displays his admiration for Amy freely and out loud.

This moment says enough on its own. Sonic’s like this throughout the entirety of Prime and even changes the tone of his voice when speaking to or about her. It’s so authentic and adorable and makes him stand out against other variants.

Amy’s crush on Sonic in Prime is up to interpretation, but I don’t think she likes him in that way personally. Like other characters, Amy tends to be done with Sonic’s childishness. Guess she thinks he’s probably too immature to be boyfriend material whether she has feelings or not. Sonic on the other hand, acts how you wouldn’t expect. I personally see him as his own interpretation, so I’m fine with it. If he wants to have goo-goo eyes for Amy in Prime, it’s cool.

Prime!Sonic has it bad and I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d be the one wanting to go out on dates. Maybe he’d cook dinner for her sense he cooks in the show. I’d imagine Amy declining at first, but does it after his constant begging. They’d be swapped version of most emotional to least emotional. Prime!Amy would be a girlfriend who feels more like a parent than a partner.

Unleashed/Black Night

No one can bring up Sonic Unleashed without the lovely Amy meeting the Werehog scene. I love how Sonic didn’t like Amy hugging him, but right after she left he solemnly mopes around for probably the first and last time. He’s never in any game slowly moped around disappointedly before. Proving he only has certain reactions when it comes to Amy Rose. At least in some continuities. Unleashed gives you a choice to go on a date with Amy or not. Then the next game Sonic Team followed through with it, but ended up having Amy mad at Sonic for missing it. At least Sonic tried. Not to mention his reaction to The Lady Of The Lake and him flirting is fun to watch.

See how Sonic still likes her back but it isn’t because she’s “calmed down?” She’s still the same excitable love strucked Amy. There must be something more to it. Other than the obvious answer with Sonic Team wanting to do something with the pear. I have no idea why but having multiple hints even in the past must’ve been done for the fun of it. “We created this love interest but then railed back to Sonic not reciprocating her feelings. But we still want to market them as a couple in some way.” This franchise never cease to confuse me.

Amy encouraging Sonic in one of the cutscenes could’ve been where he started liking her back. Not in the way he does now, but he admired her none stop compassion and might’ve wanted to return the favor. “Eh, she’s sweet. Maybe a date won’t be so bad.” The fact he went out of his way to get her a chilidog and flirted with a different version of her should tell you enough. Of course it would take a while before anything else happened. 

IDW/Sonic Frontiers

Yeah, after issue 2, Sonic’s never felt the need to run from Amy. From the comics to Sonic Frontiers there’s a lot of moments of Sonic being somewhat emotionally candid. Not by much, but close. I believe Amy’s the reason for that in a way. Sonic’s not afraid to hang out with her anymore. He even hugs her back on some occasions. “Ames” was a nickname from fanfics and Boom which became canon over time and he occasionally calls her that.

Sonic wishes to share an umbrella and spend more time with her. He also gets excited to see her more often. It’s like Reboot Archie but slightly toned down. At least up until the hard to trigger lines from Sonic Frontiers. The same game where he outright admits to being worried about Amy and smiles back at her with a Coco looking between the two. Then he supports Amy’s decision to leave etc. We all know where we are now.

Crazy how the more you look into this franchise the more tiny details you notice. It’s also crazy how much Sonic’s been into the love interest he originally was already supposed to love. To me, Sonic had a crush on Amy in Unleashed but fell in love with her in IDW. What makes Sonamy gripping though is how unique it is compared to most romantic relationships. Leaves it to be more entertaining whenever something unexpected happenes. It keeps you engaged.

Why Sonic Crushes On Amy?

1. Amy doesn’t want to slow him down. Obviously because of IDW issue 2’s love confession with Amy saying “I can’t change you. I don’t want to change you.” Amy joins Sonic and he includes her more often because of that. His speed is no match for her persistence anyways.

2. She shows compassion and love for those around her. Not just to Sonic, but everyone. She’s the definition of soft hearted. Even for people Sonic and his friends would be weary about. Think about now in the recent comics and games where Sonic’s trying it out. I do think it should be more of Amy’s thing then Sonic’s but it just goes to show how much she probably inspired him. Who knows? Even in the past he had respect Amy for her tenderheartedness.

3. Amy’s energy matches Sonic’s. Though sometimes she can be overly enthusiastic compared to him. Even before now, Amy’s always been adventurous and that’s probably something Sonic liked from the start. Not in a romantic way, but in a respectful way. If he were to have a partner he’d need someone to keep him grounded and be on the same level. No exceptions.

4. Her loyalty. No matter what Sonic does (including times she disagrees) she’s one of Sonic’s most loyalist companions. Obviously other characters are too, but Amy has her being a long time childhood friend/Sonic 06 and Unleashed going for her. 06 for trusting Sonic over Silver and Unleashed for still loving Sonic despite his transformation. Heck, before she knew who the Werehog was she wasn’t disgusted. Amy’s commendable for that.

From all these points here physical attraction isn’t included. What I like about both characters is their crushes don’t stem to how they look. Though it is worth mentioning Sonic has called Amy “Radiant” in TMOSTH, but that’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to an outright physical compliment. From Sonic at least.

- Side note thanks to @saltynsassy31 again, Sonic and Amy’s dynamic can be summed up as not a relationship but rather a situationship. Yes, it’s a real word. What does it mean? Basically two friends who has crushes on each other but doesn’t do anything about it. Just a fun detail for you guys.

Why Did Sonic Run From Amy In The Past?

I’ll make this quick, but the reason Sonic ran from Amy wasn’t because he didn’t like her. On the contrary. Sonic always could’ve ran at his normal speed to get away from her. Sonic’s the fastest thing alive. Why would he let someone he “didn’t like” catch up to him? I personally think he enjoyed the thrill of the chase. It’s why I believe he misses it nowadays. Though I do understand Sonic didn’t often treat Amy like a friend. Not in a way I can understand at least. Not that I think their relationship was bad, but from what I’ve seen, it was more told then shown due to Sonic and the gang not including her on missions. Amy normally had to catch up with them which was a running gag. Especially in SA2. It might be why some prefere her in stuff like Reboot Archie, Boom, IDW, and Frontiers. Because Amy’s friends includes her on adventures now. At least in my opinion. Correct me if I missed anything.

Final Headcanon

Since Sonic in the games has been the one to push the Sonic side of Sonamy much more then Amy does for herself, I’d like to think in most cases (especially as their dynamic grows) Sonic would start carrying other versions of him traits like trying to mess with her.

He’d want to get her to chase him more often and Amy would probably ask once or twice, “What’s going on and why are you acting weird?” He’d definitely play it off as him fooling around. Sonic doesn’t know much about romance, but he does know what Amy likes. Maybe he’d ask her out or go on a bunch of traveling missions. Anything to get her to pay attention to him again. After all, there’s been examples of the guy feeling ignored by her in and out of canon. It’s possible.

-There’s also a consistent detail where Sonic’s finally ready to open up but has to deal with Amy doing her own thing. Or when he’s face with different variants of her, he’s flirtatious with them. For the fastest thing alive, he has terrible timing when it comes to making his mind up.

Conclusion

Welp, there you have it, darlings. Examples of Sonic crushing on Amy more than some would think. It’s a Sonic character analysis and Sonamy post all in one. I know there’s more, but I think this gathers examples from the actual content.

Stay Creative! 💜

[nouearth]

dancing with wolves.

pairing. glen powell x male reader.

word count. 8.8k.

summary. journeying from town to town provided glen a solitude he’d always dreamed of. however, since meeting you, it was all he could complain about.

content warning. smut, western!au, top!glen, yearning!glen, loner!glen, bottom!reader, prostitute!reader, love confession, established relationship, passionate love-making, gagging, deep-throating, handjob (r!receiving), blowjob (r!giving), spanking, overstimulation, milking, anal penetration, breeding.

Cases of whiskey and cider were stacked in a column of two. Six units per beverage, twelve in total as Glen triple-checked the count and label. Though he’d never made a mistake in his deliveries before, it was his vigilance that maintained his good repute amongst the townsfolk. His attentiveness and efficiency in deliveries allowed for trust to be built between him and the towns he’d distribute to.

Months and more, the head of these establishments he’d work with didn’t seem to mind Glen’s uptight and reserved nature. Rather, they were used to it. Penned him as ‘Gunpowder’ because of their inability to see through him, as if the smoke from deflagrated gunpowder had impaired their vision.

As long as the goods were delivered in mint condition, who was to complain that the brooding man marched right on out after receiving his payment without uttering a single word?

Not to mention, his sturdy build was a warning itself to those who’d dared.

“Nearly doubled the shipment from last time.” It was an observation noted to himself. A low mutter that the owner of the saloon caught with a smile, because frankly, the mustached man was known to run the folk’s ears off.

There was a reason why he owned a saloon, and not Glen.

He dropped his payment into his drawstring bag and tucked it into the inside pocket of his shirt. Crime was growing rampant, even in a bustling town like New Vale where a dust storm couldn’t ward off its folks from drinking into the night. Glen wasn’t sure what to make of it. Whether to call them idiots for ignoring the highly alarming signs of bandits gradually killing their way to the west, or brave for living their lives without a single regret.

One would’ve had the same vacillation between labeling Glen as an idiot or a man, for traveling 40 miles and more in his saddle, while the threat of murders loomed over his head.  “God damn, I did! Business been growin’ ever since we’d expanded to include the whores. The fellas can’t keep their hands off of them!” Glen’s ears pricked up from the way the shorter man described the main attraction to his saloon. The man was practically ascending to heaven, tugging on the straps of his suspenders to ground him to the wooden flooring while he boasted about how much of a brilliant man he was for charging patrons by the hour, and taking a percentage of a prostitute’s pay. 

All Glen could do was watch in stoic disgust while the man relished in his own pride, in his own greed.

Though, only for a few seconds before a feeling of guilt and shame took over Glen’s conscious, calling him out on his hypocrisy, on this selfish desire that all the men in the saloon had collectively shared.

He wasn’t much of a better man than the drunkard swaying in his seat, completely shit-faced with a shot glass in his grasp.

Glen tucked his hands into his pockets, leaned to the man’s ear, and lowered his voice to a hush. “The boy in today?”

Coincidentally, he felt a spare coin in his left pocket. The silver ridges scorched his skin like it had come straight from the devil’s fountain, prodding his urges.

“Should be cleaning out back, but I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. You know his room.” The man collected the single coin with a smug grin and tipped his hat. “Nice doing business with ya, and… get y’self a drink. On the house. I’m beginning to treasure your presence.” The march of his steps out to the back were resonant, even with the ragged rhythm of the piano blaring in Glen’s ears as he walked for the stairs.

- - -

The room was left as Glen remembered it.

The thin walls closed in on the oil lamps mounted on the walls. It didn’t take much to light up the room. As bright as candles could be lit, it only emphasized how truly compact the space was. Glen couldn’t imagine that no more than two men could be comfortable standing in this lodging, let alone reside in it. Luckily, Glen was a simple man. He hung his coat on the wall and took his boots off, a much needed relief from the compression at his feet, and he felt satisfied sitting on the miserable mattress. Not from the space, no. Not when he could hear other patrons like him revel in their own pleasure, albeit muffled by the thin walls.

No. It was because he got to see his boy again. Twice a month, like how it had been for almost a year now, and Glen could feel the two weeks of labor thanking him as a huge weight seemingly lifted off his shoulders. 

Traveling from town to town and shipping out whiskey and cider didn’t take much of a toll on his body like herding cattle, but it was uninspiring. Sight-seeing was tranquil, but the sun was beating down on him harder this month. It was tiring. Always on his saddle, on his feet, and now with the threat of robberies ramping, on the defensive, all without so much of a break.

It was lonely. 

And though it was his own fault, it made the moment of seeing his boy all the more special.

Touching you was even more cathartic than he’d like to admit.

Two hard knocks, a beat, then three more, and the door opened.

“You sleepin’ already, Bighorn?” You teased, chuckling to yourself when you could see Glen rise from his position as you locked the door.

Bighorn. The endearment made Glen chuckle.

Glen watched you come into the light as his elbows supported his body, legs extended to stretch the tight muscles in his thighs and calves. A button-up and suspenders, your typical attire as a novice cook. It had to be illegal to look this striking in hand-me-downs covered in flour.

“A second longer, and I would’ve demanded for a refund.” Glen quipped with a simple grin. It was all natural, his body responding to your approach by gathering himself onto his feet. You worked him in mysterious ways. Every step you took, Glen met you half-way. 

Yearn weighted Glen’s heart to match the heaviness of your boots scraping against the floor until you stopped. He stopped in his tracks after, your wide smile reflecting off of his simpler grin, and Glen remained silent, taking you all in with the removal of his hat. 

It wasn’t the first time his eyes ever tracked a man, nor was it the first time his heart ever sped up, but you had this power, this presence, that made him feel anew with the way you looked at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest close to his own. 

Surely, he knew he wasn’t going crazy feeling like his affection for you had shot up like a bull for the past month. And the month before that. 

And the month before that.

“And I would’ve made it up by makin’ sure you get the best sleep of your life. How’s that sound?” You met his eye level, unabashedly smiling wider than you had ever greeted him before. 

He felt flat, like he’d been hit by the train itself. A sharp jolt that sent goosebumps all over his skin, and it was like you read into his soul, because your hands roamed around his body, warding off the tiny prickles over his skin with a caress to his broad chest, over his forearms, against his neck.

It didn’t take long for Glen to realize you were the curator of the bumps on his skin.

“Sounds like an overpromise...” Glen chuckled along with you, his larger hands feeling up your waist, backside, then to your arse, where they felt perfectly at home in his palms. His gaze was just as curious, peeking at the collar of your shirt that revealed the smallest amount of your neck. To your lips, marveling over ruby flesh he’d often daydream about while riding across the plains.

It was becoming a routine. Where the weeks leading up to the end the month felt like the world had a vengeance against you, and this month was surely taking out its worst out on you.

“You got a haircut.” Glen noticed the shorter length of your hair, pushing it back with a swoop of his hand. He then took ahold of your jaw, maneuvering it cheek by cheek to stoically marvel over your cut.

“Was gettin’ hot. Boss man didn’t like how it collected sweat.” Your fingers worked around his collar, unfurling the fold, then folding it back into place.  “You like it?”

“I can see your face clearer. You look good.” Glen’s fingers raked through your hair once before messily ruffling it. You responded with a shove to his chest, knocking him back onto the bed with an unexpected laugh. “Guess I didn’t need to worry about whether you were eating or not. Christ, you gettin’ stronger too.”

A dull ache settled in his chest. He wanted to say something more than, “You look good.” 

No, it fit you. The trimmed hairs on the sides matched how blunt you could be. 

“You bring any gifts for me?”

“You’re sweaty, and that makes me aroused.”

“You pushing 40. That only makes me want you even more.”

“No one can fill my mouth like you do, Glen.”

On the contrary, it also framed your face like you were an angel who didn’t spout nonsense that would render him speechless. Though, he’d gotten used to that now. It made you all the more endearing, how someone could look as passive as you, have a mouth like that.

“Bastard’s been pushing more tasks onto me since business been growing. Same pay too. Man is too cheap to hire another employee. Don’t think I look any different though.” It took all the energy out of him to not sigh when you straddled his lap. He was swelling nicely beneath you, harder and thicker the more you rut your arse against him. “Or… maybe you’re just getting weaker?”

Glen rolled his eyes. “Don’t get so cocky, boy. Wouldn’t want me to beat it out of you, would you?” Your breath hitched when his palm struck down on your left ass cheek as a warning. It was effortlessly done, yet the subtle sting was more than enough to pull a groan out of you.

You brazened yourself, narrowing your eyes into his drawn gaze as you leaned closer, and pulled him halfway up by the collar. “Not if you call that a beatin’.” Your lips grazed against his, and just when Glen leaned closer, you pulled away and resumed your ruts, pushing your arse back onto his palms simultaneously.

“You gon’ regret that.” It was animalistic. The way you drove your hips into him, and the way Glen desperately responded back, groping your ass hard and pushing you flushed to his groin, to the weight of his bulge. He buried his groans into your neck, biting a patch of skin that would draw out whimpers in between your taunts. 

“I ain’t regret nothin’-“ A loud yelp slipped from your mouth. His palm suddenly came down on your ass again. Harder, like the snap of lighting had bit into your skin. It shuddered you to think that it had hurt as much as it did while you were clothed. Yet, that didn’t stop you from unbuckling and drawing out your belt, and then Glen’s. 

“That the best you got? Like a bee-sting. I ain’t impressed.” You muttered into his neck, kissing at the hot flush of skin after stripping you and Glen down to undergarments. Gradually, you worked his top off, licking and kissing every show of skin that would meet your lips, until he was deliciously bare-chested before you.

“I’ll break your damn ass if I have to.” Glen said through gritted teeth. His arms were folded behind his head, cushioning it while he watched your mouth worship every contour of his body like he was a king. Your mouth would latch onto one side of his ribs, suckling on a freckle, while the other admired his abdomen with several, drunken strokes. It took the trail of his stomach hair to pivot your mouth lower, to slip your hand into the opening of his drawers until it was inevitably full with Glen’s semi-hard cock, meaty and thick in your palm.

“You spendin’ the night?” Your ears perked up at the sound of his groans, your gaze followed the source. He was clearly desperate for more than the laze of your strokes as your grasp was loose and open, favoring to feel around his cock than against. 

“That’s what I paid for.” His hips bucked once you began massaging his cock, throbbing harder in the palm of your hand. 

“I’ll make sure it’s worthwhile, then.” With one hand continuing to knead at the tender muscle, you stripped the drawers off of his body, tossing it onto a pile of clothing in the corner.

“Look at me when you talkin’.” It came out more aggressive than he’d like it to, but your eyes lit up when he caught your gaze, a smoldering smile plastered across your face while you stroked him with your knees pressed to the mattress.

“You stressed or what? Don’t usually talk like this to me.” Stripping yourself bare, you resumed tending to his cock after, gulping at the unholy sight of the meaty tool drooling with a thick and ample amount of pre-cum that would surely stain the flooring if you hadn’t caught the sticky rope with your tongue.

You looked extra handsome tonight, Glen thought. Maybe it was the haircut working wonders on him. Making him act all crazy like he’d been bewitched. One strand of hair fell delicately over your forehead when you spat on his cock, and had your grasp around him not remind him, he would’ve forgotten to breathe.

“Just been thinking about my boy. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” You lapped up his cock while he struggled to pour out his words. It was like molasses, the way he’d pause himself to say the right thing so he wouldn’t scare you. Coincidentally, you seemed to be enjoying the taste of his pre-cum like it was molasses as well, sucking it out him with sunken cheeks.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about filling that filthy mouth of yours with even more filth.” He hissed as you began tonguing his slit.

“Y’know how much I love the taste of your seed.” You dragged your tongue over the head, polishing it with several needy sucks, while your gaze maintained on his. One hand was wrapped around the shaft to hold Glen steady, and the other was cupped around his heavy balls, stretching and fondling the loose stretch of skin.

“I know. You like how it’s warm in your mouth, don’t you?” The grasp around his thick cock tightened. Fingers pressed into his veins, stroking the aroused muscle while your mouth worked on his glans, plump and swollen against your lips.

“And how salty it is. Taste better than your whiskey.” Sweat and musk had built up in the thick hairs of his pubic, in the crevice of his glans as you inhaled his scent. The smell of his cock made your own swollen unbearably hard.

“You like my cock too. Like how heavy it is on your tongue.” He had his fingers running through your hair, keeping any strands from obscuring your eyes as you watched him, just as he had been watching you.

“Nothing better than feelin’ my dirty mouth stretch because of the size of it. Can barely wrap my hands around your tool. My asshole struggles too, if not more.”

You loved sucking on the head. It was tender in your mouth, leaking with salt that made your tongue dance into the slit for more. It was beautiful to look at too. Every now and then, you’d slip him out of your mouth to marvel over the glistening view of his cock, swollen in your own spit.

“Yet it don’t stop you, does it? You keep sucking with that hot mouth of yours. Fucking with that tight ass of yours.” He sat up to stretch his hand from your neck and then down to your spine, repeating the affectionate gesture when he’d reach the limit of his mobility.

“Your cock is my liquor.” You held his gaze with pride, proudly slapping his wet cock across your cheek, against your lips, onto your tongue, because you weren’t ashamed for desiring men. 

You weren’t ashamed for needing Glen.

No amount of prejudice can suppress your very existence. 

“You doin’ a whole lot of talking, and not a lot of sucking.” His hand was strong on the back of your neck, massaging as if it would warm your throat up.

You purred, finding the increasing pressure on your neck welcoming as it naturally opened your mouth back up. Your tongue teased Glen for a little longer. Patience had been wearing thin, you could see it in his eyes as they hardened over the lazy trail of your tongue, unbearably sliming at the underside of his heavy cock. His grasp on your neck was clutching, pulling at your tender skin to maneuver you north and wrap your mouth back around him. But you were resisting. You were going to suck his cock on your own terms, on your own accord, flaunting your tongue over his stiffened pole to warm him up because you had all night with him.

You were beautiful like this, working your spit over his cock with your hand, while you silently leaned up for a kiss. He granted those rubies of yours a chaste peck, then another to the dried drool at the corner of your mouth, then another, a fulfilling kiss to your mouth that had drawn out simultaneous groans from the both of you because it was unapologetically more than lust.

You stroked his cock harder, to the warmth of his tongue as it slipped inside of you, keen to explore the cavern that had made his cock feel so glorious, to explore the mouth that often sent Glen into a spiral simply from his own imagination after the very minute he would depart from you.

His heart was beating, accelerating like it had soles to run on, and all it took was the palm of your hand caressing his chest in soothing swoops to ground him back to reality, to the kiss that had been broken in favor of you returning back to your original position between his legs, mouth agape and taunting as ever. 

“Only because I want you to hear what it sounds like when I’m swallowing your cock.“ With those final words, you slid his cock into your mouth without letting your gags falter you.

His cock was heavy, maintaining the girth from base to tip as you took more of him after every cycle. Tears brimmed in your eyes when you’d choke on one attempt of slotting him down your throat. Then they dripped, rolled down your supple cheeks, when you’d work yourself through your gags until your throat closed in around his tool. You’d lie there with your throat stuffed to the brim, your lips clamped shut from the very base despite the fur of his pubic hairs tickling your lips to open back up.

Your ears rattled from your conscience begging you to end your torture, but watching Glen marvel at that mouth of yours made you endure the looming threat of fainting all the more worthwhile. 

“Christ.” Drool spilled from either side of your mouth as Glen helped you stabilize with a palm to your nape. He gently pushed at the sound of your gags, keeping you situated against his groin in case you’d pull away. “You know how to make a man happy, don’t you?”

“Mmfgh—“ It was pointless responding, but Glen expected it. You always had to get the last word. The last sound. 

He maneuvered you by the neck, pulling you back then forward again, your throat making ungodly sounds around his cock in midst of doing so. Occasionally, he’d meet you halfway and thrust himself into your gags, churning the arising saliva that foamed in your mouth back down your air duct, making you choke in the process.

“You miss my cock that much, boy?”

“Mmff-guh!”

He’d pull you back just in time, his cock releasing from the tight hold of your throat like a cork barricading liquor, and you didn’t waste a single second to fill your lungs again with the arousing air.

“You gon’ kill me with that thing, bastard.” Your spit resembled fizz that would spew out from opened cider. Glen kept it to himself, but he thought you looked dashing like this. Flushed in the face, cheeks stained by dried tears, nostrils stung with sniffles, you’d collect your composure quickly after, brazen yourself as if nothing had happened, but from the tremors in your hands, you were dismantled despite working your hand on him again.

“Too much for you?” He asked, reaching over with a hand to knead at the center of your throat. Glen didn’t show many moods, but you were well aware when he was either aroused, angry, or concerned, simply by the movement of his brows. 

You lifted your chin upon the warm of his hand greeting you, grinning at the raise of the man’s brows. “I jest. Too much? Yes. But that’s the fun in it. Not knowing when to stop because I’m so addicted to you.”

“Should be a poet. You’d know how to charm people with your words.” He sighed into your mouth when he pulled you over, kissing you delicately while one hand lowered to gather his cock and yours in one hold, stroking the throbbing masses.

Glen was never too fond of feeling like this. 

This warmth that was similar to downing liquor, yet not quite as strong or as scorching as to the sensation of aged spirit burning his insides.

It was foreign. The heat liked to spread around his body, the aftermath of hot rain he’d reckon. It was steaming inside of him. Pleasant and restful while his muscles eased. He felt like those biscuits he’d eaten for morning, noon, and evening. Buttery, warm, and pillowy. 

That feeling only happened when he was with you.

It was unnerving how much power you held over him without you even realizing. How he’d weaken under the light of your smile, or even the dazed stare of your eyes, where Glen often found himself concerned with for the remaining month as the shadows beneath your eyes would grow with every visit.

You shouldn’t have that effect on him, because no one has managed to ignite such feelings inside of him. Yet you have, effortlessly so, without missing a single beat, and it was alarming to realize that his solitude had become unbearable since you’d came into the picture. 

Frightening, where his solitude would feel like abandonment had something ever happened to you.

“Poets don’t make a home.” You whispered lightheartedly before breaking into soft, hushed moans, where Glen would happily devour as you resumed kissing him with tongue, running your hands over his muscles in meantime.

“And whoring yourself out does?” He sat up, pulling away to raise a questioning brow.

It was naive of you, but Glen knew better than to lecture you in the meantime. He hadn’t seen you in a month and he wasn’t letting a simple discourse interrupt that.

You shrugged, kissing at the underside of his jaw after he pulled you onto his lap. His hands were on your hips, his cock rubbing between your ass cheeks. “No, but at least I get fucked hollow out of it.”

“Forget what I said. If your mouth is this vulgar, I can’t imagine what you’d write on paper. You’d end a famine with folks dying from shock at your smut.” Without warning, one finger slipped inside of your hole. You clenched from surprise, but eventually welcomed him in with the languid kisses Glen would provide on your neck, on your shoulders, and on your chest.

“That’s a good thing, ain’t it?” You arched forward into his embrace, pushing your ass out as Glen twisted another finger inside of you, stretching your hole with two fingers. “I saved the world…” You moaned out in a manner that sent tremors down Glen’s spine. To his cock, when he stuffed another finger inside of you, and curled deep into your resistance. “Don’t do too much. Wanna feel you.”

“You silly.” The keening sound you give out rendered him speechless, along with the dew of your body and face, thinly layered with cold sweat of your own desires. Your hands braced on Glen’s shoulders as he pistoled his fingers inside of you for a little longer. Twisting, spreading, turning, curling, throttling, until you begged for him, in whispers, in hot kisses that muffled your sounds incoherent. 

But Glen was an attentive man; tasting your tongue to feed off of your words, urging you to repeat with a smack to your ass. You would, desperate and delirious as you pushed your ass into the sting of his palm.

“Can’t take it anymore. I need you inside of me. C’mon.” You reached behind to stroke his cock with your spit, simultaneously pressing his shaft between your rump.

“You actin’ like you don’t get hollowed out daily.” Glen’s touch was tender on your cheek, holding the left side delicate in his palm, while his hips moved against your hand and grind, taunting your patience.

“Not like this. Always thinkin’ about you when someone else fucking me. They don’t do it like you.” It came out as a whine, a needy sound as you angled his wet cockhead against your pucker, dangerously pressing when you lifted your hips.

“They don’t satisfy you like I do.” A statement, rather than a query.

“They don’t...” 

Glen was good at casting doubt on people. 

Lies were often evident through the eyes. Novice liars either looked away, or stared too intensely like they were trying to convince themselves.

Your gaze yearned, lingered in search for Glen’s blessing. He held your gaze for a moment, catching a glimpse of stars in your pupils like he wasn’t aware that it was the candles’ doing. Getting lost in your eyes wasn’t warding off the warm feeling in his body. Rather, it began manifesting a smolder, burning more despite kissing you once to fan it away, to make the light in your eyes—the way you looked at him disappear.

He pulled away quickly to look into your eyes again. Burning now, he was burning. 

Again, his lips sealed over yours, and then he pulled back to stare.

The stars winked.

Again.

A few morphed as one, seemingly emptying the space in your pupils.

Again. 

No, Glen was wrong. They weren’t emptying space.

And again.

They were creating space.

He began witnessing the birth of a few more stars after every turn, crystal-like as they glimmered in your pupils once you smiled at his behavior. 

Glen was in silent hysteria, finding himself spiral from one look you’d given him. It was different. Completely unlike anything you’d ever spared him. It felt true. Pure. Honest.

Loved.

There was no way out. He couldn’t find a way to escape if he’d tried. Burying his face into your neck didn’t work. You smelled like bread dough, ones you’d been kneading in the back of the kitchen. Ones he had eaten and marveled over before even meeting you.

Simply closing his eyes had no effect either, as your hand was on his cock, chasing after the throbbing with patient strokes.

“They don’t.” Glen repeated after you, a confirmation into the underside of your jaw.

Glen was never a man who lost. At least, he never lost without putting up a fight. When he spared you one more glance at the sound of your groan, he felt himself crumble and completely melt. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. Feel himself melting until all that was left was for bone to be rattled with as you sank yourself back onto his lap, hands braced on his shoulders while you welcomed his cock inside of your cavity, inch by inch

“You’re an angel, y’know that? Every time I see you, I feel like my sins been washed away.” Glen ran a finger along your taut rim, marveling over the way you looked right now, bouncing on his cock, over his lap, your cock swinging in for the ride. He harbored his moans into the crook of your neck, fogging your skin with the warmth of his breath, until you’d break into cold sweats.

“Ironic, ain’t it? What loving a man can do?” You groaned and grunted with exertion as you worked your way lower in tiny thrusts. “They don’t make love to me like you do, just as I don’t make love to them like I do for you. ” You confessed with conviction, and let gravity weigh you down onto Glen’s cock, taking him into your sturdy body. “Only you.”

Glen didn’t hear that right, did he? Loving someone? It was difficult to concentrate with the way you were working his cock. It was a glorious feeling being back inside of you, compact and warm like how he’d remember breaching you. 

You felt so stretched, uncomfortably yet pleasantly filled when you’d lift your hips until only the cockhead remained, and rammed his cock back in with a strong drop of your ass. Your forehead rested on Glen’s, and you could feel every puff of breath he’d exhale. Hear the restraints in his panting as you tied your arms around his neck, and let your weight push him flat onto his back, properly straddling him. 

“You love me? What you talking ‘bout?” He didn’t have the will to stop you. You were so eager, absolutely high on your arousal as you rode his cock with desperate rhythms, but he needed to address the revelation, for his sanity. 

First off, you beat him to the punch. Had it originally played out in his mind, Glen was the one to confess about his feelings, not you.

“What? I-I ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout that.” It must’ve slipped. You didn’t know when, or how, or maybe Glen was a mind reader because you definitely didn’t say that, did you? You rocked your lower body in quicker ruts, hoping it would distill any remaining questions, and looked off to the corner, silently cursing at yourself.

“You’re lying.” His grip on your hips was sudden, making you come to a pause.

“I ain’t lyin’—“ Your brows furrowed, exasperated at the interruption. Luckily, Glen’s cock was still hard inside you, somehow throbbing even more as you witnessed something clicked within him.

Glen took ahold of your body, arms secured around your waist, before stepping off the bed and carrying you to the lone rocking chair in the corner of the room. “So, you hate me?” 

“What? No, I don’t hate you. You—I—Glen, put me down.” You groaned when Glen sat down on the chair, the position driving his cock impossibly deeper into your body.

He refused despite your attempt in wriggling yourself free. You were strong, but Glen was stronger, tightening his arms around you. “Then what is it? I want to know how you feel before I feel like a fool for loving you too.”

Though, not like he had to hold you with much strength considering your bewilderment stunned you in place. “What? You love me?”

“You tellin’ me you don’t know? What was all that “makin’ love” speech about?” He was just as perplexed as you were. His chest felt heavy with disappointment. He’d been overthinking it, hadn’t he? Glen was a liar, someone who tried to convince himself of the impossible. 

“It felt like you were making love to me. Don’t mean that I thought you actually did.“ 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

A deafening silence as you two stared at each other. You were about to leave his lap, only for him to bound you back to him at the last second.

“Well, I do. I love you.” Glen stated matter-of-factly, a peculiar tone to his official confession, you couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

“Bighorn…” You sighed, surrendering into his arms with the slouch of your body, your chest colliding onto his. Frankly, the thought of being with Glen made you happy, yet nervous at the same time. “You know it don’t matter whether I love you or not. Nothing is gonna happen beyond this. Nothing can happen, unless you wanna risk your life. Mine too.”

“That’s something I’m willin’ to do. I’ve risked my life traveling plains, through towns, carrying expensive liquor. Nothing I won’t do for you.” Your heart felt like a pond with thrown rocks skipping across the surface of water.

“Absolutely not, and that ain’t the same. How you gon’ love me when you’re ten feet underground because of the fact that you love me?” You crossed your arms, frowning at his persistence because… well, it was working. More rocks began breaking the solitude of the pond.

“From the heavens, hopefully. Can leave you with my horse. Got a ranch back at home too. Can leave you with that. You’d have a house like you’d always wanted. Carry on with my business.” Pure dreams. That was all they were. Dreams.

“That’s only if I ain’t buried with you, Bighorn.” As much as you seemed resistant to Glen’s imaginations, you found yourself picturing a better life for you as you buried your head into his neck, listening to his tales. Living on a ranch like he’d described. Cattle and sheep would run free while you struggled to keep up with Glen as you joined him on this new lifestyle. It would be hard work, but by dawn, you’d slip into bed with Glen after dinner, and deem that it was all worth it in the end.

“At least we’ll be together, one way or ‘nother.” He kissed you at your neck, laving your skin in the weakest kisses, almost like he was beginning to surrender to your defiance. “So, you love me? You love me too?”

“I—Bighorn—Glen…” 

He’d come a long way since you’d met him. Describing him as quiet was an understatement. He refused to make small talk when you led him into this room for the first time. It was a quick exchange, a shameful one as Glen power walked out of the saloon without sparing you a single glance. Now, he often spent nights with you, refusing to let go of you even in the deep of his slumber. In retrospect, you could’ve left when you had the chance. You had many opportunities even, to find a better life in the next town, and the next.

The thought of having Glen disappear from your life felt like death itself, so you didn’t, knowing that he would eventually down the line. 

A year later, and he hasn’t. 

Love makes you do crazy things. 

“You know I love you, Glen.” You rubbed his chest sweetly, forewarning him of the disappointment you’d never relieve him from. Tears formed at your waterline, threatening to leak, so you pressed your face deep into his neck, wiping them against his skin. Your heart felt heavy, like it wanted to burst out of your chest to stop you from pushing him away. It would’ve killed you, but at least it would’ve saved Glen the disappointment. “I love you too. I’m glad we sorted that out, but we—”

“No, stop. No more. I love you.” He cut you off with a sudden kiss, whispering into your mouth after. “I love you, and I need you, you understand me?” His palm was back on your rump, kneading at the tender, yet toned flesh, while the other hand pressed his growing erection back to your pucker again, prodding. “No more buts.”

“But—“ Your breath hitched when he slid himself in again, stretching you out like before, yet it felt like an endless slide, digging all the way into the deepest part of your body, like Glen was going to cradle your heart, until he was rooted deep inside of you, balls flushed to the cleft of your ass.

“(M/N), I’ll take care of ya. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of it, you hear me?” Glen cradled your head, kissing at your cheek while you returned to burying it in between his shoulder and neck. “Let me see you.”

“H-hmm, m-mhm—“ His cheeks burned as you made those wanton noises in midst of revealing yourself before him. Flushed in the face, cheeks stricken with tears; one would’ve mistaken you to be ill. Though, in a way you were. You’d been struck by incurable illness that was love.

Glen clicked his tongue, frowning in wonder. “So, so, so pretty. You look so pretty.” He began thrusting into you, resuming where you two had left off. “You look even prettier now that I’m making love to you, you know that?”

“You love me.” You bit your lip, holding back moans because you needed to hear it from Glen again, hear of his devotion for you.

“I love you.” He whispered through grunts, spreading your ass cheeks wide, and you pressed your body forward, arching your ass out as his thrusts ramped up. His cock slammed up into you with raw passion, devoting his remaining strength to holding your ass up, and making himself work for you, all in the name of love.

“I love you.” You repeated between needy whimpers. You soon began to bounce up and down, hands braced on Glen’s shoulders, while you joined his thrusts with your own movements, meeting him halfway. His large cock reared you from behind like a hammer to a nail, pummeling you without break, without the chance to let you breathe. 

It was rather the opposite, to knock the breath out of you. 

You watched close, mouthing at Glen’s neck, then jaw, until you reached his lips, where you’d let hungry moans delicately fall into place. Glen found you breathtaking as you lost your mind with primitive lust. 

“You belong to me, you hear me?” Glen said simply, his features calm. “No one else fucks you like I do.”

Your arms tightened around his neck for a hug. Glen seemed absolutely serene in his love, with you on his lap, fucking yourself into his cock. On the other hand, you were absolutely wrecked. Glen was fucking you harder, knocking guttural moans out of you on each thrust. Your own hole clenched when Glen lifted your ass up, pulling his cock completely out of you until you were squeezing nothing but warm air. He’d expertly dip a finger inside of you, to feel how stretched you were, play with your rim because of how swollen it had gotten, before stretching you back to capacity as he brought you back down on his cock, and onto his upward thrust.

“No one makes love to me like you do.” You panted through his batter, each syllable of word rattling in volume as you had absolutely no sense of it. Glen hummed in agreement while he fucked your ass and jerked your cock all at once. He was taking care of you.

You knew what he meant in the long run; tending to your injuries if you’d happen to fall off his saddle, hosing you down with water when you’d take a dive in the lake, feeding you the last bit of his biscuit because he never liked seeing you hungry. A life far from neglect as Glen had made you realize that you and him shared the dream.

But for now, he was taking care of you. Meticulously so as Glen remembered all the spots that made his tongue taste sugary when you’d moan in his mouth. Glen’s thumb caressed your frenulum, using the pre-cum your cockhead had been spitting to slip his touch in the tightest crevices. The pad of his thumb sailed smooth over the neck of your glans, flicking, pressing, rubbing at the swollen flesh of skin. You sounded so sweet and looked so serene under Glen’s touch, a complete antithesis to how you’d normally present yourself.

Glen was familiar with the roll of your eyes; from the way you’d interact with displeased customers at the bar, or from his demand to hold you throughout the night. But would you hold it against him if Glen revealed that he preferred seeing the whites of your eyes from being fucked impeccably in the ass? With his thick cock, battering your insides until you’d remember the shape of his cock? The motion of it all, digging deep into your ass, into your guts, pummeling through your need to clench hard around him, failing to pause him from hitting that sweet spot, or else you’d spill. Your hands curled into his chest as they were braced on the sweaty surface, and you’d never felt so desired, especially with your reflection in the vanity staring right back at you, providing you a simple glimpse of how beautiful you looked to Glen.

You’re a dirty bastard, Glen reckoned you’d confront him with, only before bending over the mattress and spreading your ass cheeks for him. You lucky that I’m as well, Bighorn.

No. No, you wouldn’t hold it against him. 

You were perfect.

“Close.” You warned, then dropped your head lower to kiss him on the lips, spilling your moans into his mouth in midst. 

Your hips bucked into his fist while simultaneously rocking back into Glen’s cock. His hold on you was secure, clutching to keep you as close to him as possible. You toyed with your nipples, pinching and tugging on them, and Glen accepted those gestures as a silent invitation for him to wrap his lips around one nub at at a time, suckling on the perky bud until you’d gone swollen. You’d join his lips for another kiss in gratitude, thanking him with your tongue as it explored his warm mouth, licking into his panting, his grunts, his devotion for you. You swallowed his spit after, and your fate with Glen was sealed and optimistically beyond your control.

“You look like an angel right now, but your hole’s the devil. Squeezing around my cock like this, holding me so tight like you’re afraid I’m ‘bout to pull out of ya. Christ, you’re so tight. You my dirty angel. My sweet devil.” His hand had abandoned your cock in favor of taking your ass into both palms and spreading them like before, fucking his cock up into you.

Your eyes shared pleasure with his, only your pupils had seem blown since he’d started angling his hips in a way that sent tremors to your body. With your cock in your hand, you gazed down at Glen with dazed passion, lips parted to warn, yet only little sounds had come out instead. “Glen. Christ—“ His cockhead tickled your sweet spot at first, a brief brushing that you didn’t think much of other than the fact that it made your body tremble. But Glen persisted, shifting his body against your gorgeous, helpless, and needy body, and fucked your tight body with force, teeth-bared, sweat beading on his forehead. Your mouth fell open, and your face slackened with unadulterated pleasure. “Damn you, I’m gonna come—“

Glen shuddered, witnessing your gaze blur in and out in an attempt to focus on him as he was on the brink of his control himself. “Do it,” he urged you. “I want you to. Come from my cock. Gonna come too, inside of your hole.”

You wailed when Glen’s strong thighs slammed into your sweaty ass. A thunder of delicious sounds: your wails and his growls, the bruising smacks of flesh to flesh, the hard rocking of the chair, scraping against the floor; they created a symphony that was nearing a crescendo. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Glen pounded up into you, and your ears blared with sounds of Glen’s pleasure. Your fist pumped your cock until your forearms began to burn, veins pulsing through to power you to your high.

He was gutting you, hollowing your hole out until it would recover just in time for his next visit. You’d remember him for the remaining weeks, his cock pummeling you until your melodic cries had shifted from want to euphoric need.

“Glen..!” You yelled.

Glen kissed you deeply and bit your lower lip, one hand steeling you by the nape to hold your forehead to his. He doesn’t plan on letting go. Watching you like this, submerged in unconditional pleasure, was just as gratifying as hammering into your prostate. “You feel so good, angel. Look at you. Look at that pretty smile, you’re so happy to be filled with my cock. 

You were so full of cock, of Glen’s cock, and you cried from it. Cried from how Glen was taking care of you so well, back to fisting your cock, kissing your neck, pounding your insides out.

Love has never felt so good.

Finally, you came with an arch of your back. Glen’s fist released just in time for thick and heavy ropes to splatter on his chest. Glen stiffened, his eyes daring back and forth between the exhilarating expression on your face and the obscene visual of your cum flooding Glen’s fists as he wrapped his hand back around you, and worked you through your orgasm.

“M-mmfgh, come inside— Need it. I need you.” With your eyes on his, you leaned down to kiss him and take his hands into yours for balance, raising them over his head. They were sticky shut from layers of your cum, but that only made it more thrilling as you rode him. You lifted your hips and brought it down without a single pause, burying his cock inside of you to the hilt.

“Angel, fuck— I’m coming.“

You swallowed his growls, warnings of the inevitable, yet you accelerated like you didn’t hear, slamming your ass down repeatedly, chasing after his high. His hands suddenly grasped hard onto yours, sponging cum out from the locked hands and letting it trail down your arms, and his hips bucked. You could feel his thighs flex, see rapture possess his very being as his gritted teeth no longer could contain the trumpeting sound of his moans, his muscles pulsing. With one more press of your ass, you buried Glen’s cock and felt him come inside of you. Heavy and thick as his hot seed stained your walls. Creamy like butter, when you slowly milked him inside of you with gentle rhythms of your hips. It felt sublime, having your insides contain Glen’s devotion for you.

“You the devil himself…” Glen groaned and his body twitched as you emptied him of seed, stopping once you were satisfied. He then released your hands to embrace your waist, letting you slump into him with relief. Your head rested on his shoulder, and your eyes closed shut.

“You really mean it? You’d wanna live on a ranch together, or something?” You asked, feeling his heart come to a calm with your palm providing soothing strokes to his chest.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He turned, pressing his nose to yours. One hand caressed the small of your back, and occasionally would fondle your rump. Warm and plump in his grasp, he couldn’t help that he was in love with every aspect of you.

You thought about his question for a moment, pursing your lips before shaking your head. “No.”

“Then that’s your answer.” He assured with a kiss to your lips. “We ain’t gotta do it now, or the next month, or the month after that. When you’re ready. Just wanted to know I want a future with you.”

“Me too...” You muttered, playing with his chest hair to distract the sudden conflict you’d been harboring from him. 

Silence filled the room for a moment as he watched you intently. You picked up his hat from the floor and fit it on yourself. 

“There’s that ‘but’ again. What’s the problem?” Glen chuckled, his heart racing again despite maintaining his composure. He playfully flicked the rim of his hat down, making it tilt on your head, and cover your sight line.

“Hey—You ain’t gon’ like it.” You adjusted the hat, sighing in defeat when Glen watched you with vigilance.

“What?” He sat up, making you straighten your posture in turn.

“Think the sheriff’s not gonna like the sound of me quitting.”

“You kidding?”

“Nope.” You pursed your lips again, then sighed. “He’s boss’s most loyal customer. Pays well too. I mean, I don’t know. I may be wrong, but… think he likes me beyond what I do for him. Buys me gift from the city and all.“

“Well, he’s gonna have to prove it. I ain’t leaving without a fight. Not until I’m dead, and even then, I’ll be watchin’ over ya.”

“You a mad man.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[plutosunshine]

Built-in Resistance: Life with Saturn Square Your Personal Planets

Saturn square Sun

Saturn is like that strict teacher who never smiles, always grades harshly, and thinks every lesson should come with a side of struggle. The Sun is you — your core, your identity, your ego, your light. When Saturn squares the Sun, it’s kind of like you’re trying to dance freely on stage while someone in the audience keeps shouting, “You call that dancing?!”

People with this aspect often grow up feeling like they have to earn their right to exist — like they’re only valuable if they’re responsible, useful, or constantly improving. There’s often some early-life dynamic where a parent or authority figure was extra hard on them. Encouragement might’ve been replaced with criticism or emotional coldness, which leads to this lifelong inner voice that goes, “You’re not enough. Try harder.”

Yeah. Ouch.

Saturn square Sun doesn’t hand out trophies for just showing up. But weirdly, that’s kind of its gift. You do become incredibly resilient. You do learn discipline. You do build self-respect — but the long, slow, Saturn-approved way. Not the “overnight success” route. You might feel like life delays your wins or makes you work harder than others for the same results, but when you finally do succeed, it’s solid. Nobody can take it from you because you’ve earned every inch of it.

It’s also the “late bloomer” aspect. Your glow-up isn’t rushed. You’re not peaking in high school or riding beginner’s luck. You’re becoming the kind of person who ages like fine wine — and yes, Saturn would absolutely approve of that metaphor. 🍷

The hard part? Self-doubt. Feeling blocked. Feeling like your own worst enemy. Like no matter what you do, there’s a wall. That’s Saturn. But Saturn is the planet of mastery, and squares are pushy — they push you to grow. So yeah, you might feel restricted early in life, but that pressure makes you strong, wise, and deeply self-aware. Eventually, people look at you and think, “Damn, how are they so calm and composed?” Meanwhile, you're like, “Because I’ve been through it.”

Bottom line: it’s tough, but it makes you tougher. Saturn square Sun doesn’t give you a free ride — it gives you the long road, with better scenery and stronger legs.

Saturn square Moon

Ahhh, Saturn square Moon — the emotional equivalent of trying to hug a cactus that keeps reminding you of your responsibilities. 🥲

So, picture this: your Moon is your emotions, your instinctive needs, how you seek comfort and nurture. It’s the soft, gooey center of your emotional world. Now enter Saturn, the planet of structure, responsibility, restriction, and sometimes the cosmic buzzkill at your emotional birthday party.

When these two square off, it often shows up as an inner tug-of-war between what you feel and what you should do. You might have grown up in an environment where expressing emotions wasn’t safe, welcomed, or even allowed. Maybe emotions were treated like weakness, or you had to "grow up fast" — emotionally or literally. So your inner child kind of got a memo that said, “Stuff those feelings down and get to work.”

The result? You may come off as super composed on the outside — calm, responsible, maybe even stoic. But inside, there can be deep emotional insecurity, a feeling that your needs are “too much,” or that if you do express vulnerability, people will reject or judge you. So, often, you don’t. Or you wait until it explodes, and then you’re like, “Wow, didn’t see that one coming”... even though you totally did.

One of the roughest parts? This aspect can create what I call emotional imposter syndrome — feeling like no matter how much you try to show up emotionally, it’s never enough… or maybe it’s too much, and either way, you just can't win.

And relationships? Whew. They can feel like walking a tightrope. You want connection (Moon), but you also fear vulnerability (Saturn). So sometimes you build walls instead of bridges. Or you attract emotionally distant partners, because that dynamic feels “normal.” But that’s just Saturn playing puppeteer until you call it out.

Now for the good news: Saturn square Moon people become some of the most emotionally mature, loyal, and grounded souls out there. You might not wear your heart on your sleeve, but when you love, it’s real, and it’s deep. With time, and yes — lots of self-work — you learn to mother yourself. You stop waiting for external permission to feel things. You start trusting that your needs matter, even if they weren’t validated growing up.

This is a slow-burn healing process. But if anyone can turn emotional lead into gold? It’s someone with this aspect. You’ve got that inner alchemist energy.

Saturn square Mercury

Oooh, Saturn square Mercury — now we’re talking about the mental pressure cooker of the zodiac. 🧠⏳

Mercury is all about communication, thought, curiosity, wit — it's your mental vibe, your inner narrator. Saturn? He’s the cosmic taskmaster with a clipboard and zero patience for fluff. So when they square off, it can feel like every word or thought has to go through airport-level security before it’s allowed out.

What’s it like to have this aspect? Well… imagine you’re trying to give a speech and there's a grumpy old professor in your head muttering, “That’s not smart enough. Say it better. Actually… maybe don’t say anything at all.”

This aspect can make you hyper self-critical when it comes to expressing yourself. People with this placement often second-guess what they say, how they say it, or even if they should say it at all. Sometimes there’s a fear of being misunderstood, or sounding “dumb,” or getting shut down — maybe because at some point in life, that actually happened. Cue the internalized “don’t speak unless it’s perfect” vibe.

And then there’s the tendency toward mental overwork. Like, your brain is always on, but it’s not chilling in a hammock — it’s climbing a mental mountain with a Saturn-branded backpack full of “What if I mess this up?” rocks.

This can make learning feel slow or frustrating early in life — but not because you're not intelligent (you are, in a deeply structured, analytical way). It’s just that Saturn doesn’t hand out lightbulb moments for free. He wants you to earn your wisdom. So while other people might grasp things quickly, you build your knowledge brick by brick — and by the end, your mental castle is solid AF.

People with this aspect tend to have a dry, sharp, understated sense of humor — think “sarcastic sage who’s seen some things.” They’re also fantastic editors, researchers, and strategists because their brains are naturally built for refinement. You might not speak first, but when you do? It’s thoughtful and real.

The flip side? Yeah, sometimes you can come across as blunt, overly serious, or even pessimistic. That’s Saturn’s shade. But as you grow, you learn to wield that seriousness like a sword — cutting through BS and fluff, and communicating with depth and purpose.

Eventually, Saturn stops whispering “You’re not smart enough,” and starts saying, “You’ve earned your voice.” That’s when things get powerful.

Saturn square Venus

Ahhh, Saturn square Venus — the classic “Why does love feel like a job interview I keep failing?” aspect. 💔📄

Let’s get real for a sec: Venus is your charm, your ability to connect, to love, to enjoy the sweet stuff — beauty, art, pleasure, relationships. It’s where we want things to feel easy. Then Saturn walks in like, “Easy? Not on my watch.”

When Saturn squares Venus, you end up with this inner tension between desire and deserving. You want love, connection, affection… but there’s this built-in brake system that says, “Not so fast.” Maybe you grew up learning that love had to be earned — with achievement, with behavior, with being better. So even as an adult, there’s often this invisible wall where intimacy should be.

And yes, that wall can wear different disguises:

Picking emotionally unavailable partners

Feeling like you're never "enough"

Struggling to receive love even when it's right there

Or being super hard on yourself about how you look or what you “bring to the table”

It’s like having a little Saturn on your shoulder whispering, “Sure, they say they like you, but do they really? Better not let your guard down just in case.”

Sound familiar? 😬

This aspect doesn’t mean you’re doomed in love, not even close. But it does mean that you may carry emotional scar tissue — patterns built on rejection, self-doubt, or fear of not measuring up. It often points to early life experiences where love felt conditional or inconsistent. So now, adult-you sometimes expects rejection even before it happens.

And the irony? People with Saturn-Venus squares are often incredibly loyal, loving, and dependable — once they feel safe. But that’s the keyword: safe. Trust takes time. Vulnerability takes effort. And affection? Sometimes it feels like a risk, not a reflex.

Money and self-worth are also wrapped up in this one. You might feel you have to hustle for security, or that pleasure must be earned, not simply enjoyed. Saturn isn’t exactly the “treat yourself” type.

But here’s the glow-up: Saturn-Venus folks age so well, emotionally and even physically. Why? Because with time, you learn how to build real love — love with boundaries, depth, commitment, and staying power. You stop chasing fairytales and start creating something more meaningful. Love that’s earned, but not forced. Love that’s built to last.

And when that wall comes down? What’s behind it is solid gold.

Saturn square Mars

Ah yes — Saturn square Mars, also known as: "Why does it feel like I’m driving with the gas and brake pedals pressed at the same time??" 🚗💥

Mars is your raw drive — action, passion, aggression, motivation. It’s how you chase what you want and defend what’s yours. Saturn, as always, is the planet of limits, rules, structure, and the dreaded delay. So when these two lock horns in a square, it can feel like you're constantly hitting resistance every time you try to move forward.

The vibe? Frustrated ambition. You’ve got fire (Mars), but Saturn throws cold water on it — not to kill it, but to teach you how to control it. But in the moment? It’s so annoying.

You might have felt early on that you had to fight for everything — attention, respect, even basic freedom. Maybe your willpower got shut down or punished growing up. So instead of being encouraged to go after what you want, you learned to hesitate, to second-guess, or to push so hard that you burned out. It’s like your inner rebel has a probation officer watching their every move.

People with this aspect often feel like they’re in a constant internal tug-of-war: “I want to do this… but what if I fail? What if I’m not good enough? What if I lose control?”

Here’s the thing though: this aspect creates grit. Pure, slow-baked, battle-tested determination. Saturn squares don’t hand you gifts — they hand you a toolset and make you build it yourself. With Saturn-Mars, you might feel like you’re always having to prove yourself — but guess what? You do. Over and over. And you get stronger each time.

This aspect can make you:

Hyper-disciplined (eventually — after you work through the rebellion or avoidance)

Physically enduring (if you learn to channel the tension into something like sports, martial arts, or intense physical work)

Strategically aggressive — you don’t waste energy on impulsive stuff. You move with precision.

But yeah, in the meantime? There’s anger. Sometimes buried deep, sometimes leaking out as passive-aggressiveness, sometimes erupting because you've been holding it all in. That’s Saturn saying, “Control it — don’t suppress it.” Mars needs movement. Saturn says “only if it’s worth it.”

The emotional lesson? Learning to be your own coach, not your own prison guard. You’ve got big energy — Mars knows what it wants. Saturn says, “Cool. Let’s make sure you do it right, even if it takes a while.” It’s a long game aspect, and people with this end up achieving some pretty epic things — but they rarely take shortcuts. Your growth comes through friction.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey hi so I just have this flash of an idea: Reader saving Ford / Stan out of a danger they’re facing. Like I’m talking reader carrying them bridal style and gently putting them down and being all “Are you alright, my love?” Hehehehhehehehe blushy boys

Stanley was a punch first, ask questions at a later date type of guy, he was use to being the protector of the family no matter if the guy he was up against was bigger. He always came out on top in the end.

So when he found himself being lifted into your arms and you brought him out of the line of danger and looked at him with a face full of concern before asking; ‘are you alright my love?’ He knew he watched too much of that sappy romance drama Mabel got him into as he felt his cheeks burn hotter then ever.

‘I’m fine now toots thanks to you.’ He replies, trying to keep his cool when his heart was hammering in his chest and all he could think about was how attractive you were in his eyes, then again you were always attractive in his eyes but there was something about being saved by you that made him conflicted.

On one hand, Stan was the man in the relationship, he’s meant to keep you safe from all harm -paranormal or otherwise- and if he didn’t do that, then he wasn’t a man. But he also felt relieved that he didn’t have to always look out for himself anymore when he’s with you, knowing you had his back as much as he had yours no matter what. It was reassuring knowing that he could fall back on someone and know that they’ll catch him when he falls.

So while he still might think that he should still be the one protecting you and all, Stanley doesn’t mind it one bit when you’re looking at him with such caring eyes, hands holding his face as though he was the most precious thing in your life. (he was, he very much was)

‘I’m glad.’ You said with a smile, ‘now let’s stay as far away from here as we can from now on.’ You added as you grabbed his hand to walk back to the mystery shack.

‘I dunno doll face, I might just get myself into a bit of trouble more often if it means having you come save me.’ Stanley teased with a wink.

‘Don’t push it. I might not always be there to save you.’ You said playfully as you nudged him with your elbow to his side.

Ford’s face was as red as cherry tomatoes the second he recognised he was in your arms, carried away from the skeletal deer anomaly that had seemingly lost all interest in both of you, but yet his face somehow got even more redder when you put him down on a nearby fallen tree stump to hold his face in your hands as you said:

‘Are you alright my love?’

He’s suddenly finding the fungi growing on the side of the tree trunk more interesting than meeting your eyes as the words caught in his throat. Ford always though it’s be him carrying you away from danger, keeping you safe and making sure that you weren’t hurt in any way, he could handle them thanks to the survival skills he built up whilst in the multiverse; and yet here he was feeling as though he was developing his first crush on you all over again.

‘I’m fine dear, apologise for being caught off guard.’ He tells you as he couldn’t help but be ashamed that he allowed himself to get lost in the excitement of seeing a new anomaly. You literally him while he was still mid sketching the cryptid!

‘It’s okay Ford, I know how you get with new anomalies but I often wish you didn’t almost risk certain death just to finish sketching them.’ You said softly as you gingerly brushed your thumb against a thin cut he had gotten on his cheek from the skeletal deer anomaly, you knew this man has survived worse but you couldn’t help but worry every time he got hurt somehow. After all it was better to admire something form far rather then within it’s territory, and the anomaly happened to be hostile and territorial.

Ford sighed as he lent into your touch, still getting use to your tendency for physical contact after going so long without it, closing his eyes as he took this moment to cherish your unconditional love and affection for him. After all his dad only started giving a shit about him the moment he figured he could gain money from exploiting his own son’s intelligence. ‘Apologise once again my dear-‘ you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his forehead, thumbs caressing his face as though he were made of porcelain.

‘It’s okay my love, I just worry about your safety and want you to do what you love safely.’ You tell him as you pull away from him before offering him your hand with a smile. ‘Now let’s go find an anomaly that won’t hunt us down for sport.’ You add as Ford grabbed your hand and smiled.

‘I’m sure I spotted some mushroom people not too far from here having a dispute with some gnomes not too far from here, shall we take a look?’ He asks you and you gestured to the vastness of the forest in front of you both with your free hand. ‘By all means lead the way mr Pines.’ You replied softly as you both searched high and low for disputing mushroom people and gnomes.

[harryslittlefreakk]

just between us

summary: when y/ns life starts to fall apart, her boss is there to pick up the pieces… behind his wife’s back. nanny reader x ceorry

warnings: cheating, smut (foreplay, soft dom, sex, daddy kink), angst

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: the plot of this is so loose lol, please don’t read if you want a masterpiece 😭 it was a really fun one to write enjoy <3

*not proofread because i stayed up until 2.30am to write and post this*

thank you so much for reading 🤍 MASTERLIST

You curled your legs up to your chest, the evening breeze doing little to soothe the ache in your chest. The last of the day’s sunshine lingered in pale pinks and oranges amongst the clouds, blurring together as you stared out into the night.

The drink in your hand, a mix of something strong and sweet, was meant to numb the feeling, but it only seemed to deepen your sense of isolation. You raised the glass to your lips, letting your head roll back as the burn slid down your throat, your thoughts going a million miles an hour.

It had been sudden, unexpected. The words still echoed in your mind, as if they were stuck on repeat. How could something that once felt so sure, so safe, suddenly fall apart? You clenched the glass a little tighter, the cool condensation dampening your hand.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the sliding door open or the soft footsteps approaching. It wasn’t until you caught a familiar scent - a mix of woody cologne and something uniquely him - that you realised you weren’t alone.

You turned slightly, rushing to pull the blanket higher over your chest to cover your bikini top. Harry was standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you with the same furrowed brow wore when he knew something was wrong.

“Sorry, Harry. I didn’t think anyone would be home tonight,” you whispered, placing your drink down on the table. The whole family was meant to be away for the week, a trip that not only gave you some time off, but something that was now timed quite well since you had the week to mend your broken heart.

“I had to come back early for a meeting, Anna was meant to call. Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, a forced smile playing on your lips. “No, of course not.”

Harry sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that it felt intrusive. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there in silence, staring out at the fading light. There was something comforting in his presence, in the way he didn’t rush you to talk or try to fill the silence with empty words.

After a moment, he glanced over at your drink and then back at your face. “Rough day?”

Your lips curled into a bitter smirk, your fingers pushing through your hair. “You could say that.”

He nodded, as if he understood exactly what you meant, and maybe he did. Harry had always been good at reading between the lines, at knowing when someone was hurting even when they didn’t want to show it.

You looked over at him, his slacks perfectly creased down the centre, his shirt buttons loosened. You couldn’t deny that he was attractive, with his chiseled body and messy brown curls. But he was your boss. You were his son’s nanny, and you’d built a close relationship with his wife. You never allowed yourself to see him that way.

But when he showed so much love and care for you, it became borderline impossible not to blur the lines.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offered, pulling you out of your thoughts. “But if you do, I’m here.”

He scooted closer, leaning his elbows on his knees as if he was incredibly interested in what you had to say. Harry always had a way of making you feel seen, recognising your needs faster than you recognised them in yourself. As a boss and a friend, he was a whole lot more than you bargained for.

Under his gaze, the weight of the day suddenly felt too heavy to carry alone. “Sam broke up with me,” you muttered, not wanting to admit it.

Sam had been the final piece of the puzzle, the last thing that needed to slot into place for your life to be full and worthwhile. The day that he’d proposed to you was the single most important day of your life. He was your everything. Until he’d phoned you earlier that day to tell you that he wasn’t sure that he loved you, and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Harry didn’t react immediately. He just nodded again, taking in your words. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice sincere.

You shrugged, though the motion felt hollow. “It’s probably for the best,” you whispered, though the pain in your chest told you that you didn’t fully believe that yet.

You finished the rest of your drink, the burn of the alcohol replacing the sting of heartbreak and failure. Your eyes closed, the reality starting to wash over you.

Harry reached out, placing his hand gently over yours on the table. The warmth of his touch was grounding, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You don’t have to be strong,” he said quietly.

That simple reassurance, the permission to not have it all together, was enough to crack the fragile composure you’d been clinging to. You laced your fingers through his as if you needed the stability, your eyes filling with tears before you could stop yourself. Harry didn’t say anything, just held your hand and let you cry, something steady and comforting in his presence.

When the tears finally slowed, you wiped her eyes with the blanket, feeling a little embarrassed but also lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice still thick with emotion.

Harry squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he replied.

You sat there for a while longer, the silence between you both now filled with some sort of understanding. The sky had darkened, the first stars beginning to twinkle above your heads. You took the last sip of your drink, this time letting the sweetness linger on your tongue, and for the first time that evening, you felt a small spark of hope flicker inside you.

“Another one?” Harry asked, nudging his head towards your empty glass.

You nodded, easing yourself out of the chair on unsteady legs. Whiskey on an empty stomach had your head spinning, but you weren’t sure that was the only reason. You were evil. Despicable, even. Turning your heartbreak into lust for a man that had showed you nothing but kindness, allowed you into his life as more than an employee, a man who’s family was special to you.

But his hand on your knee, the way he brushed away your tears with that gentle touch. You couldn’t think straight, let alone walk straight as you tiptoed into the kitchen.

You opened the whiskey with a pop as Harry’s body came up behind you. His abs rock hard against your skin, his bulge pressing into the small of your back. His arm came beside you, placing your glass on the marble countertop.

“Forgot your glass,” he murmured, making no attempt to step away. You turned against him, his jaw tight as he stared down at you.

You were frozen, doe-eyed and open mouthed as you looked up at him, the dark concern on his face morphed into something more.

“You need to learn how you’re supposed to be treated,” Harry drawled, his forearm slipping behind you and lifting you onto the countertop in one swift motion.

His knee nudged between your legs, opening them up for his body to fit inside. Your head fell back against the cupboard door as he bucked his hips into your core, the fabric between you both just thin enough for you to feel almost everything.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Harry whispered, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “Like you’ve wanted this all along.”

The whimper you let out was almost pitiful, a sure sign to Harry that you were losing the battle with your morality. When you wrapped your calf around his waist, tugging him closer to you, he just about lost it.

“Your wi-”, you started, your voice barely a whisper, like you didn’t actually want Harry to hear you. You didn’t want him to think about her, to come back to his senses and realise what he was about to do. But he didn’t even let you finish.

He tugged at the straps of your bikini top, the sudden chill as he exposed you enough to make you fall into silence.

“Doesn’t need to know anything,” Harry finished for you. “If this is want you want.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand to cover the curve of your breast. “It is, Harry.”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes still fixed on yours. “Do you need to feel better, princess?”

“Please,” you panted, slipping a finger through his belt buckle, desperate for some relief from the pleasure that was already building up inside you.

“Please what?” Harry whispered, leaning down to press his lips to your nipple, the soft bud immediately warmed by his mouth.

“Please Daddy,” you corrected, the last syllable turning into a long, deep whine when he finally gave you what you wanted.

He pulled your legs tight around his waist, your arms snapping over his shoulders as he lifted you from the counter and carried you upstairs to your bedroom.

Your core was rubbing against the fabric of his shirt with every step, your panties becoming more and more uncomfortable the closer you got to your room.

Harry eased you down to your feet when he reached your bedroom door, your core sliding over his erection.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth at the contact, his hands fumbling with the door handle. You pushed it open, letting him guide you to the edge of the bed where Harry nudged you to sit.

He sank to his knees in front of you, his hands immediately finding your knees, tracing circles and patterns up your thighs, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. You leaned back on your hands, panting even before he made an attempt to give you any real pleasure.

His thumb dragged over the wet spot on your bikini bottoms, pressing the fabric against your entrance. The contact made you writhe, your clit aching for more.

When he slipped two fingers under the fabric and pushed them into you, you were completely at his mercy, whining loudly as he immediately found your sweet spot.

You looked down at him through clouded eyes, and that recognised that same, torn look you’d seen flash across his face before. But now you recognised it as a hunger, borderline desperation to have you in a way that would destroy everything he’d worked for.

But you didn’t have time to question it, to fall apart over the way his gaze trailed over your body, the sparkle against the deep green of his irises, because suddenly he was everywhere, his lips warm and insistent against your skin, his free hand groping and roaming anywhere he could reach, his fingers fucking in and out of you with pure determination.

You were his, all his, as Harry leaned down to lick a circle around your clit, before pulling his fingers from you and kissing and licking at you with persistence. His mouth was fast and firm against your core, his moans vibrating around you as he let your juices pool on his tongue.

His nose was nudging against your clit, his hands cupping the curve of your ass to open you up for him. The pleasure had built to a deep ache, spilling out of you in the form of whines and moans, but Harry was unrelenting in his pursuit of your high. He kept licking and sucking, grabbing and groping until you came apart on his tongue, your body going rigid under the strain of such an intense orgasm.

“You need to learn how you’re supposed to be treated, kitten,” Harry murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed over your mound, his lips warm and wet.

You pulled yourself to sit up straight, reaching for his belt buckle with desperation. “Show me, daddy,” you whined, pouting as he pushed your hands away and got to work undressing himself.

He nodded his head towards your pillows, a silent command for you to get yourself ready for him as he pushed his slacks down.

You could see the outline of his erection through his boxers, the material stretched tight over the monster he’d been hiding. You’d expected him to be big, but you weren’t even sure that he would fit inside of you.

You kept your eyes locked on his body as you scooted back, your mouth hanging slightly open. You’d seen him like this before, in his shorts in the pool or topless as he barbecued, but knowing he was undressing for you, to fuck you into complete and utter bliss, you were spiralling.

You wanted him to fuck you everywhere, in every way. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the pool, his cock hitting the back of your throat until you were begging for relief, his mouth and hands touching you until they became one with your flesh.

At some point during your daydream, Harry had fully undressed, his cock dangerously hard as he knelt between your legs.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, swiping a finger through your slick before bringing it to your lips, his free hand stroking at his length.

You opened your mouth a little wider to let him in, your lips immediately wrapping around his knuckle as your tongue swirled around his fingertip, your nectar sweet on your tastebuds.

The movement elicited a low groan from Harry, his hips bucking into his hand, and without any warning, he was pushing into you with a sharp ache in your walls, his hands planted either side of your head.

Your arms immediately snapped to his shoulders, steadying yourself against him with a gasp, your pussy throbbing as his cock stretched you.

“More, Harry, please,” you whimpered, wrapping your calf around his hips, tugging him impossibly closer to you.

He brushed a stray hair from your face, pulling out of you slightly before easing his way back in, your walls rippling around his tip.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.

You opened your mouth as he slammed back into you, his skin slapping against yours as his name left your mouth in a strangled cry.

His hand came around your throat, squeezing just enough to give you that rush of excitement and risk, the pain melding with your pleasure. He was pulling out faster, fucking into you with relentless determination, setting a pace that you had no hope of following. You were putty in his hands, submissive and yielding as he thrust into you.

Your walls were getting tighter, clamping around the strain of his girth as the beginnings of an orgasm started rolling through your core. “I can feel you struggling, princess,” Harry warned, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. He could see in your eyes how much you liked it, how you wanted to lay there and take whatever he gave you. You knocked your hips into his, unable to speak through whimpers and whines, starting to lose control as the tingles spread through your centre, your inner muscles pulsing around his cock.

“Cum for me, milk me like the little cum slut you are,” Harry groaned, leaning down to pull your nipple into his mouth, his tongue warm and desperate as it rolled over the bud.

His cock hitting every inch of you, nudging your g-spot and every other part of your core, your nipple hard between his lips, his hand wrapped around your neck, his body dwarfing you - it was too much to handle, too much to cope with even without his filthy words. You were cumming before you could even think twice, the pleasure rolling over you in waves, reaching every part of your body. Your fingers curled into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp, collecting his curls in their grasp. Your legs were tight and rigid against his skin, your back arching off of the mattress. You were crying out his name, every inch of you throbbing as your vision blurred into stars and static.

But Harry was still fucking into you, still licking and sucking at your breast, still restricting your air with that big, strong hand, until you felt his cock jerking, twitching against your walls and the ribbons of hot cum painting you, marking you as his. He didn’t slow down until he was empty, everything he had to give dripping from you as he pulled out slowly, until he finally collapsed beside you.

You lay in silence for a while, chests heaving as you panted in sync, before Harry sat up to collect his clothes. It felt dirty, wretched, having him fuck you like that in a room that shared a wall with his sons, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than pure bliss.

Even as he picked up his clothes and left the room without saying another word to you, you were on another planet, totally lost in the comedown of the most intense orgasm you’d ever had.

—

You woke the next morning with a sinking feeling in your stomach, the memory of the previous evening replaying over and over and over. You stared at the ceiling, the weight of what had happened settling in. Harry had kissed her, and she had kissed him back—without hesitation, without thinking about anything else but the moment. Your sheets still smelled like him, your body still aching from the way he’d fucked you.

But the reality hit like a wave, devastation washing over you. Harry was married. You were single, heartbroken, and you’d come close to getting yourself fired and kicked out of your home on top of that. You sat up, pressing your hands to your temples, trying to push away the guilt that had crept in overnight.

You forced yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine on autopilot. The house was quiet, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. You had no idea if Harry was still around or if he’d left early, but you knew you weren’t ready to face him yet. At least no one else would be home, leaving you the chance to figure things out in your own time.

You padded downstairs, the kitchen feeling too bright, too normal for the reality you’d found yourself in. Every sound seemed magnified - the clink of your mug against the counter, the hum of the fridge - while your thoughts raced, a tangle of emotions you couldn’t quite sort out.

Was the night before a way for Harry to cheer you up - just a mistake, a lapse in judgment? Or was it something more, something neither of them could admit out loud? You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung like the humidity in the air.

You were pouring a cup of coffee when the sound of keys in the front door made your stomach drop. You froze, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. Turning slowly, you found Harry standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He hesitated, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, eyes locked on each other.

“Morning,” he finally said, his voice softer than usual.

“Hi, Harry,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut through.

Harry stepped further into the kitchen, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “About last night…” he began, trailing off as if he wasn’t sure how to continue.

You felt your chest tighten. You wanted to say something, to ease the awkwardness between you both, but the words caught in the back of your throat. Instead, you just nodded, fingers gripping the edge of the very counter where this had all started.

“It was-”, Harry paused, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I shouldn’t have…” His voice faltered, guilt flickering across his features.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Harry, you’re married,” you said quietly, the truth of it hanging in the air between them.

“I know,” he replied, his tone heavy with regret. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You nodded again, feeling like you needed to be anywhere but there. The awkwardness between you felt like a chasm now, one they couldn’t easily bridge. “It’s not just on you,” you admitted. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Harry edged a little closer, only his footsteps and the hum of the coffee machine cutting through the silence. You could tell that the weight of what had happened was pressing down on him. At the realisation, you felt a pang of sadness, a dull ache in her chest that told you things would never be the same between you both. They couldn’t be.

“I think it’s best if we just-” Harry started, then stopped, struggling to find the right words. “If we can try to move past it. Go back to how things were before. But I understand if you’d rather find something else. I have contacts, I can-”

“No, Harry,” you interrupted. “I’d prefer to stay here if I can. If that’s okay.”

You knew he was right, but the idea of pretending nothing had happened felt impossible. Still, your job was important to you, and you didn’t actually have to spend that much time with Harry.

He offered a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he said, more as a reassurance to himself than to you.

But as he left the kitchen, you weren’t so sure. Last night had changed something between you both, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you both wanted to pretend otherwise, you both had agreed to continue as you always had, the truth of it would always be there, lingering in the space between you.

—

You were curled up on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over her legs as you half-watched the movie playing on the TV. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen and a nearby lamp. You’d picked a rom-com, hoping it would distract you from the turmoil swirling in your mind.

The whole day had been weird, with Harry working from home but spending significantly more time locked in his office than he usually did. You’d wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to avoid you, but you didn’t even know if he was. Any time you’d crossed paths had lead to strained silences and forced politeness, the easy rapport you once shared miles away.

You sighed, trying to focus on the movie, but the memory of your night together kept intruding. He’d shown you more care and respect than Sam ever had, his hands and that mouth trailing over every part of your body, worshipping you as if you’d been crafted by the Gods.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, half wishing you could just disappear as Harry appeared in the doorway. His presence filled the room, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Hi,” you smiled, your heart quickening. You shifted slightly on the sofa, trying to make room, though you weren’t sure if you were ready for another encounter.

“Can I?” Harry asked, gesturing to the spot next to you.

You hesitated, but only for a second, before nodding and patting the sofa to your right.

Harry sat down, leaving a careful distance between them. You both turned your attention to the screen, though the tension in the room was palpable. You could feel the awkwardness settling in, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that Harry was inches away from you for the first time that day, and you’d just been fully engrossed in a mental re-enactment of the night before.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice low. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

Harry let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it is. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it less weird, but I’m not sure how.”

You nodded, your eyes drifting over his face.

“I value our working relationship, y/n, the things you do for our family,” Harry told you, reaching out to pause the movie.

You appreciated his honesty, but the reality of the situation still weighed heavily on you. “I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Harry. You’re my boss, and your family-” you sighed. “It’s just complicated things.”

“I crossed a line, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry for that. But I don’t regret anything,” Harry confessed, something conflicted in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your words caught in your throat. You couldn’t reply, couldn’t tell him that you didn’t regret it either.

Harry turned back to the movie after a moment, the tension between you both easing up. It wasn’t gone, but the room suddenly felt warmer. He leaned back into the sofa, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same.

He shifted slightly closer, closing some of the distance between you. You noticed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. You let herself relax, resting her head against the back of the sofa as you watched the movie together, side by side. There was an undercurrent between them that neither could ignore, reminiscent of some kind of world where he wasn’t your boss, wasn’t happily married, and could be yours.

You’d felt it even before, every time you were alone in the same room, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over. You could see it in the way Harry looked at you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a bit too long, his voice dropping a little softer whenever he spoke your name. It was there in the moments when your hands would accidentally brush, sending a jolt of electricity through you that you struggled to hide.

You were lost in your thoughts when Harry’s arm brushed against yours. You could feel the heat of him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you, clouding your mind.

Your breath caught in your throat, and when you glanced over, you found Harry looking at you, his face closer than you’d expected. His eyes were intense, searching yours for something you weren’t sure you could give. The moment stretched, the silence between you both heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges, as if he were struggling to hold something back.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “We said-”

“I know,” he interrupted, his brow furrowed, voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if you were both trying to make up for the time lost denying what you wanted.

You melted into him, any resolve crumbling under the weight of your own desire. You’d told yourself it couldn’t happen again - wouldn’t happen again - that it was too complicated, too messy, but now, with Harry’s hand cupping your face, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that left her breathless, all those reasons seemed to vanish.

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as if he couldn’t get enough, and you responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his curls as you gave in to everything you had been trying to push away. It was reckless, dangerous even, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was how right it felt, how much you had needed it, and needed him.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Harry’s hands were still on you, his touch lingering, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, his voice small. “I know we said we wouldn’t. I don’t know why I-”

“None of this is fair on anyone, Harry,” you whispered, your hand dropping to his shoulder. Your gaze fell to the wall behind you, covered in beautiful family photos. His wedding, nights out, his arms cradling a newborn baby. The reality of the situation loomed over you, a stark reminder that this wasn’t just about what they wanted. “We can’t keep acting like we’re the victims here.”

“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “But it doesn’t feel like a mistake.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You were both standing on the edge of something that could change everything, and once you crossed that line again, there would be no going back.

When you opened your eyes, you found Harry looking at you, his expression a mix of hope and nervousness. It was a look that mirrored your own conflicted feelings, torn between what was right and what you wanted.

“It doesn’t,” you admitted, hating even hearing the words coming out of your mouth. “But where does that leave us?”

Harry was silent for a moment, his gaze steady as he pulled you closer to him. “I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s something we have to figure out.”

The room was still and silent, the gravity of everything you had done settling in. But despite the uncertainty, a small sense of relief bubbled below the surface. You’d crossed a line, yes, but you had done it together. And you were happy to kid yourself that you’d find a way forward, even if it wasn’t clear yet what that path would look like.

For now, you let yourself be held by Harry, allowing yourself to savour the feeling of his strong arms around you, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the undeniable truth that something about him felt right.

eeek thank you for reading!!!

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[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: L Lawliet With a Teasing but Intelligent S/O

L is initially intrigued by how someone so playful and flirty can also match him intellectually. He isn't used to people teasing him, and while he might find it strange at first, he becomes more curious about how they think and operate, which only strengthens his attraction.

L rarely reacts outwardly to the teasing, maintaining his usual blank or focused expression. This only encourages his S/O to tease him more, trying to break his cool demeanor. L, of course, knows this, but he lets them try, secretly finding amusement in their attempts.

His S/O is clever enough to know when to dial up the teasing and when to focus on serious discussions. They use their flirty nature to disarm others during investigations, but never let it interfere with the task at hand. L appreciates this balance, even if he doesn’t openly acknowledge it.

L’s S/O loves to engage him in intellectual challenges disguised as flirtation. They’ll leave subtle hints or puzzles for him to solve, often phrased in playful or flirty ways. L always solves them, of course, but he secretly enjoys these little games more than he lets on.

During intense moments or deep in an investigation, his S/O will throw in a teasing comment to try and lighten the mood. L will pause, give them a side glance, and maybe respond with a dry, understated remark, which only encourages them to flirt more.

L’s S/O knows how to use flirtation as either a distraction or motivation depending on the situation. If L’s been working too long without rest, they’ll tease him to pull him away for a break. Conversely, if he’s stuck on something, they’ll flirt in a way that actually sparks his mind to think of a solution.

L isn’t used to romantic affection or flirtation, so when his S/O flirts with him in a playful way, he might tilt his head, processing the intention behind the comment. Over time, though, he starts to respond in his own way—whether it’s through dry, witty comebacks or subtle gestures that show he cares.

L and his S/O likely develop shared habits over time. If L’s S/O is a fan of sweets or has other quirky preferences, L might adopt some of them unconsciously, just as they might start mimicking his unique sitting posture or analytical tendencies.

The two of them have frequent banter, with his S/O using clever wordplay and flirty remarks to challenge L’s mind. L, with his sharp intellect, might throw a teasing retort back, but in a much subtler, deadpan way. Their conversations are a blend of playful teasing and deep intellectual discussion.

L’s S/O knows when and how to use their flirtatious charm to gain the upper hand in conversations or situations. Whether it’s gathering information or distracting someone else, they use their wit and teasing nature strategically, and L is one of the few who can see through their facade, admiring how skilled they are.

Though L rarely shows emotion, there may be rare moments when his S/O’s flirtation catches him off guard. He might not blush visibly, but his awkward pause or sudden shift in posture gives it away. His S/O loves these moments, considering it a victory when they get a reaction out of him.

L deeply respects his S/O’s intellect. Their ability to flirt and tease while still keeping up with him mentally is something he values. Their relationship is built on mutual respect, where they challenge and sharpen each other’s minds, making both of them better.

His S/O loves to playfully tease him about his quirks—like his sweet tooth, odd sitting posture, or how he holds things between his fingers. L will usually respond with a dry comment about how his habits help him think more clearly, but sometimes, he’ll let out a tiny smile, especially when his S/O joins him in these habits.

Though L isn’t openly affectionate, his S/O’s teasing and flirtation break through his stoic exterior at times. Behind closed doors, L might let his guard down, allowing his S/O to see his softer, more human side. They’ll joke about him being a “closet romantic,” which L will never confirm or deny.

Despite their teasing nature, L’s S/O is also incredibly supportive. When L is overworked or stressed, they’ll use their charm and wit to remind him to take care of himself. Their playful remarks often hide genuine concern, and L, being the observant detective he is, always notices this and appreciates it in his own quiet way.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[official-cvntified-gay]

Temptation Sweet as Honey

warnings: smut, age gap r is in her early twenties while ada's in her mid thirties, power imbalance, getting caught as kink?, professor and student relationship

note: we need more fics abt my wife, pls I'm begging

It was a quiet evening on campus, the kind where the shadows stretched long and the cold air pressed against the windows, making the atmosphere inside feel much more intimate. You found yourself walking the familiar path to Professor Ada Wong’s office, heart racing in your chest. It wasn’t the assignment you were carrying that made your palms sweat—it was the possibility of what might happen next.

Professor Wong was unlike anyone you had ever met. Sharp, calculating, and dangerously seductive, she commanded every room she walked into with a sense of control that sent shivers down your spine. In her late thirties, she exuded an elegance and experience that only made the tension between you more potent. There was no denying the attraction that had built over the months—her lingering gazes in class, the way her hand would brush against yours during discussions, the subtle smirk on her lips when she caught you staring at her a little too long.

You knew it was wrong. She was your professor, and the age gap between you only added to the layers of taboo. But that made it all the more exhilarating.

The hallways were deserted, and when you reached her door, you paused, heart pounding. You knocked softly, the sound barely audible in the silence of the corridor. A moment later, the door creaked open, and there she was, standing in the soft glow of her office light. Her blouse clung perfectly to her frame, the top buttons undone just enough to draw your eyes down to the smooth skin of her chest. Her lips curled into a familiar, knowing smirk as she stepped aside, allowing you to enter.

"Come in," she said, her voice calm but laced with something deeper—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, sealing you both away from the outside world. The air in her office was thick with the faint scent of leather and her intoxicating perfume, a mix of jasmine and something darker, more mysterious. You placed your papers on her desk, but even as you fumbled through your explanations, your mind wasn’t on the assignment. All you could think about was the proximity of her body, the soft click of her heels as she moved closer, and the heat that radiated from her skin.

"You seem distracted," she noted, her voice smooth like velvet. She circled around her desk, leaning against it as her eyes locked onto yours. "Is something on your mind?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The tension between you two had been simmering for weeks, and now it felt like it was about to reach a boiling point. Her gaze bore into you, predatory and commanding, and you knew there was no hiding the truth.

"You’ve been thinking about me," she said softly, but it wasn’t a question—it was a statement, one you couldn’t deny. She pushed off from the desk, closing the distance between you in a few slow, deliberate steps until she was standing inches away. The heat of her body was overwhelming, and the scent of her perfume clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on anything other than her.

Your heart pounded in your chest as her hand came up to your face, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Tell me," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to yours. "Do you want this?"

Your breath hitched. You’d thought about this moment so many times, in so many ways, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The air between you was thick with tension, and every fiber of your being screamed for you to close the distance between your lips. "Yes," you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

That was all she needed. Her hand slid behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fierce, hungry, filled with the months of tension that had built between you. Your hands gripped the fabric of her blouse as she pressed her body against yours, the taste of her lips driving you wild. You could feel her dominance in every movement, the way her fingers tangled in your hair, controlling the angle of the kiss, making it clear that she was in charge.

The papers and books on her desk scattered to the floor with a loud clatter as she pushed you back onto it. The cold surface of the desk sent a shock through your body, contrasting sharply with the heat of her mouth on your skin. Her lips left yours only to trail down your neck, biting and kissing as she went, leaving a path of fire in her wake. You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips as her teeth grazed the sensitive spot on your collarbone.

"You’ll have to stay quiet," she murmured against your skin, her voice thick with desire. Her hand slid under your shirt, fingertips tracing along your ribs, sending shivers through your body. "We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?"

You shook your head, but your body was betraying you. The thought of being caught, of someone hearing you, only made the heat between your legs more unbearable. The thrill of the forbidden made every touch, every kiss, more electrifying.

Ada’s hand moved down, her fingers deftly undoing the button of your jeans, and you let out a shaky breath as she slid them down, her hand slipping inside. The heat of her touch was overwhelming, her fingers pressing against you through the thin fabric of your underwear, teasing you with just enough pressure to make you ache for more. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the moan that threatened to escape as her fingers worked you, slow and deliberate, pushing you to the edge but never quite giving you what you needed.

"You’re already so wet," she whispered, her voice thick with amusement. "All of this just for me?"

You couldn’t answer, your breath coming in ragged gasps as she slid your underwear aside, her fingers slipping inside you with a precision that made your toes curl. The sensation was almost too much, the feeling of her inside you driving you wild with need. You grabbed onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin as you tried to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

Ada kissed you again, her lips hungry and demanding as her fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your body arched off the desk, and you bit down hard on your lip, trying desperately to keep quiet, but it was impossible. The sounds of your wetness filled the room, mingling with the soft creak of the desk and the ragged breaths escaping from both of you.

Her pace quickened, her fingers moving faster, more insistent, and you felt the coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach, building with every stroke. "Ada," you gasped, barely able to speak, but she didn’t let up. If anything, the sound of her name on your lips only made her move harder, deeper, until you were teetering on the edge of your climax, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

With one final thrust, you came undone, your entire body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you. You couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from your throat, and Ada’s name spilled from your lips as you clenched around her fingers, riding the waves of pleasure. She didn’t stop, not until she had wrung every last bit of ecstasy from you, her fingers still moving inside you as your body trembled beneath her.

She pulled her fingers from you slowly, her breath hot against your skin as she pressed a final kiss to your lips, soft and possessive. You lay back on the desk, panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Ada straightened, her gaze dark and satisfied as she looked down at you. Her fingers, slick with your arousal, brushed across your lips before she brought them to her own mouth, sucking them clean with a look that sent another wave of heat through your body. "You taste just as sweet as I imagined," she said, her voice low and sultry.

You couldn’t respond, still trying to catch your breath as the reality of what just happened settled in. You had crossed a line—a dangerous, exhilarating line—but there was no going back now. The forbidden thrill of it all, the risk of being caught…

it had only made it more intoxicating, more intense.

[misticatarot]

❤️ You know when you ask for a sign? Any sign, about love?

I hope this reading helps you see things more clearly. Breathe, center yourself, and choose with your heart.

Pick an Image (1-2-3)

1) 🗡️ Five of Swords (upright)

Themes: conflict, pride, harsh words, emotional tension

This card opens the reading with an invitation to look honestly at pain—either shared or internalized. The Five of Swords often speaks of conflict, but not necessarily external. It can point to an inner battle, where fear of being hurt again leads you to armor up or lash out.

For those in a relationship:

You may have recently had an argument or felt like communication turned into a battlefield. Maybe you “won” the fight—but did you lose closeness in the process? This card asks you to look beyond the need to be right. True love doesn’t live in victory; it lives in vulnerability.

It’s time to soften the edges, to listen, and to heal. Sometimes the most powerful words in a relationship are “I’m sorry,” “I understand,” and “I’m here.”

For those who are single:

This card may reflect past wounds that are still shaping how you relate to love now. Maybe someone hurt you, betrayed your trust, or made you feel not enough. As a result, you might find yourself being quick to pull away, close off, or expect the worst.

The Five of Swords is asking:��what battles are you still fighting that no longer serve you? You’re not broken. But to receive love, you may need to let go of old emotional armor.

2) 🔥 Ten of Wands (upright)

Themes: emotional exhaustion, heavy burdens, doing too much alone

The Ten of Wands appears when you’re carrying too much on your own. In love, it often symbolizes emotional burnout—when you’re giving everything and getting very little back, or when the relationship (or the search for one) feels more draining than fulfilling.

For those in a relationship:

You may be feeling like the emotional caretaker, the planner, the support system—and all without much in return. This card asks you to pause and ask yourself: Am I still giving from love, or just out of habit and fear that everything will fall apart if I stop?

It’s time to rebalance responsibilities and communicate openly with your partner. Healthy love is built on shared effort. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to rest.

For those who are single:

This card shows that you might be carrying the emotional weight of past relationships, unspoken dreams, or harsh self-judgments. Dating may feel like another burden, not a joy. You may be subconsciously telling yourself: “I’ll never find the right person,” or “It’s too much work to even try.”

The Ten of Wands invites you to put down what no longer needs to be carried. You're allowed to start fresh. You're allowed to look for love with lightness and hope again.

3) 💖 Ten of Cups (upright)

Themes: emotional fulfillment, lasting love, peace and harmony

A beautiful, uplifting card to close the reading. The Ten of Cups is the dream: a relationship built on emotional depth, trust, and shared joy. Not perfection, but connection. This is the kind of love that grows deep roots and brings peace to the heart.

For those in a relationship:

This card signals a moment of emotional alignment and harmony. After challenges and effort, there is now a sense of togetherness. You may be entering a new phase of peace, healing, and mutual support.

If you’ve been considering taking the next step—moving in, starting a family, or committing deeper—this card supports those choices. Love doesn’t have to be turbulent to be real. Sometimes, it just wants to feel like home.

For those who are single:

The Ten of Cups is a powerful message: what you desire in love is not only possible, it’s closer than you think. You don’t need to settle. You don’t need to shrink. Someone out there wants to meet you exactly where you are—ready to build something genuine.

This card also reminds you: the more you come into emotional harmony with yourself, the more you attract the kind of love that truly reflects your worth.

Photo by Philipp Pilz on Unsplash Photo by Henrik on Unsplash Photo by Jorge Fernández Salas on Unsplash

[elene78-blog]

Have we noticed the healthy way Jerejean people feel jealousy? (If jealousy can ever be healthy) It's not about being possessive, never.

It's about wanting to get the other person's attention and feeling a little disappointed if they don't get it. It's never about claiming territory. It's never about saying "it's mine."

It's "I want him to look at me" in Jeremy's case because it's the only way he knows how to attract the affection of someone he's attracted to. It's an act that, at most, may devalue Jeremy himself, but it never involves aggression or active demands in Jean. It's never "marking his territory." It's a cry for attention and a prayer that that call be reciprocated. But it's not just that. Not for Jean, because Jean was punished precisely "for looking," and Jeremy, by taking off his shirt in front of him, is saying, "You're allowed to look, I invite you to do it, please, I want you to do it, and I will never punish you for it."

For Jean, it's wrinkling his nose at the smell of another man's cologne or getting angry because Jean sees someone's aggressive marks on Jeremy while he says "my partner," and Jean hates it because no person who is considered a partner should hurt you. And Jean wants Jeremy to see that. He wants him to see that he deserves respect, no matter who it is.

His jealousy demands respect and healing from the other, and it's never aggressive. It comes from a need for affection and a desire for the other to be okay.

It's incredible how well this relationship is built.

[waayoutofline]

4 times you surprised Abby + Bonus

Pairing: Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Prompts: Fluff with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort, past toxic relationships, Cook! Reader, vulnerable Abby.

Summary: Four times you surprise Abby in your relationship.

WC: 2,8K

Warnings: None.

Abby hasn’t had a long dating history, which isn’t surprising in a world as broken as theirs. Survival didn’t leave much room for things like love. She’s had her flings, moments of stolen intimacy, but they never lasted. People came and went, and she’d learned to accept it. Relationships, if they even could be called that, weren’t always kind or healthy—but they were what they were. What she was used to.

So when you and Abby finally started dating—after months of stolen glances, shy smiles, and a tension that buzzed between you like an incoming storm—she couldn’t help but be surprised. What was it about you that made her hope for something more?

1. Talking About Her to Your Friends

Abby didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. She was on her way to the gym when she remembered she’d left her bag in your room. She knew you were with your friends, so she decided to sneak in quietly.

But as she approached the door, she heard her name.

“So, how’s life with your lover girl?” one of your friends teased, and Abby froze.

Her pulse quickened, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety rooting her in place. She shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t stop herself. She braced for your answer, her heart sinking as she prepared to hear the usual: She’s strong. She’s built. She’s hot. A bit stubborn. Overwhelming at times.

And sure, she was those things. Her body was a testament to her survival, her strength, and her discipline . She worked for it and was proud of it. But deep down, she longed to be seen as more than that. And her character was strong and she has been told about how troublesome it could be alongside her dry humor and sarcasm.

“Well…” Your voice was hesitant, shy. She could almost picture the way your cheeks would flush. “Gosh, she’s amazing. She’s so intelligent and kind—she talks about literature in a way that astonishes me every time.”

Abby’s breath caught in her throat.

“She’s gentle, in this really soft way. You should see her with dogs. It makes me want to get her one.”

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming in a place she hadn’t let anyone touch in years.

“Don’t forget attractive,” one of your friends chimed in, grinning.

You laughed, your voice flustered. “Well, of course. She’s gorgeous.”

“Look at you, all smitten,” someone teased, and your laugh grew quieter, softer, as if you didn’t mind being called out.

Abby’s heart was pounding now, but it wasn’t from nerves. She felt her legs move before she realized it, retreating back down the hall with her bag in hand, her cheeks hot, her lips curling into a smile she couldn’t fight.

Manny didn’t let her hear the end of it when he caught her grinning like a lovestruck fool all day.

2. Meeting the Family

Holiday time was around the corner. Usually, it didnt really mean much for everyone, but for the sake of trying to live in this forsaken world, some did their best to try and regain some normalcy.

Even Isaac, workaholic and not really an empathetic, allowed some of the recruits and workers to go out of their shifts earlier to spend some time with their remaining families.

It could be great. If you actually had one.

Abby usually just stayed at the gym, pushing herself. The burn of her muscles being preferable at the though of how alone she really was.

But she really wasnt anymore. No, you were with her now.

One night, out of nowhere, you asked her to have dinner with you and your mom. Abby blinked, caught off guard.

“What?” she asked, towel in hand as she dried her hair.

“My mom and I usually do something this time of year. I think she’s tired of me rambling about you and wants to officially meet you,” you said, your tone light and teasing, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal. No one had ever invited her to meet their family before. No one had ever seen her as someone worth bringing home. Too conscious of her own lack of family.

“No pressure,” you added quickly, though your eyes softened in that way that made her heart ache. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But I think she’d really like you.”

“I… I’d like that too,” Abby said at last, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “What should I bring?”

You smiled, stepping closer and gently tugging the towel from her hands to help dry her hair. “Just you, beautiful.”

Abby let out a shaky laugh at your cheeky grin, rolling her eyes to hide the way her cheeks blushed. “Flatterer.”

Dinner was warm in a way Abby hadn’t experienced in years. Your mom fussed over her like she’d known Abby forever, asking about her favorite foods and piling extra servings onto her plate.

It was strange and wonderful—this sense of care. Abby couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel this… domestic. Cared for. Hers died at a young age after all, she didn’t remember any kind of motherly care.

And when your mom pulled out the box of polaroids, Abby couldn’t stop laughing. Even as you protested in the background, trying to snatch the photos away, she soaked in every story your mom told—every glimpse of you as a child, every memory that shaped the person she was falling for more deeply than she thought possible.

3) The little things

Abby has always been independent. She prided herself on it—her ability to handle things, resolve problems, and shoulder her burdens without leaning on anyone. It wasn’t always easy, and yes, sometimes it felt lonely. But that loneliness was a price she was willing to pay. Dependence, to her, was a weakness, and she had no room for that.

But then you came along. And somehow, without even trying, you chipped away at her walls.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t about grand gestures, no flashy declarations. It was the little things—the quiet moments and unnoticed details—that left her feeling undone.

Like the time you took her gym towels, washed them, and neatly packed them back into her bag. She’d blinked in surprise, holding them in her hands, wondering how you’d known she’d forgotten. You hadn’t even mentioned it, just smiled when she realized.

Or the way, after a grueling patrol, she’d find a sticky note on her makeshift fridge. Your familiar handwriting scrawled something simple—a heart, her name, a quiet reminder to eat. Beside it, there was always a container of her favorite dish. She’d sit there and eat it, alone but feeling more cared for than she ever had before.

Then there were her hair ties. She’d spent half a morning cursing under her breath, looking for the ones that always seemed to vanish. When you finally spoke up, you’d said, “I put them in the little box on your nightstand so you don’t keep loosing them.”

And at times, when she didn’t really have it in her to face the morning, you gently encouraged her to push forward. You’d quietly ask if you could braid her hair. Abby usually was adamant to let anyone touch it, but there was something about the way your delicate hands moved through her hair that left her in a trance.

Your fingers worked carefully, threading through her scalp with a tenderness that eased the weight she carried. She found herself humming softly as you worked, the tension in her shoulders melting away with each gentle stroke.

It was so small, so simple, but she’d stared at you for a moment, the words catching in her throat.

It amazed her how you always seemed to notice the things she needed before she did. You didn’t make a show of it, didn’t ask for thanks or praise. Taking care of her came as naturally to you as breathing.

Afterward, life seems all that brighter. Easier to breath, knowing that she could count on you.

4) Getting her vulnerability

The anniversary of her dad’s death was closing in like a shadow. Abby felt it in the air, in her nightmares, in the way her body refused to let her rest.

Night after night, she woke up shaking, clutching at her chest, and every time, you were there—soft whispers, steady hands, holding her like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams.

But she hated herself for it. Hated waking you, hated seeing the concern in your eyes, hated the thought of you realizing just how much of a mess she really was. People had left for less.

And maybe you would, too.

Many people, both lovers and friends, had been uncomfortable with the ghosts of her past—her dad, her losses, the weight she carried. They either tiptoed around it or distanced themselves when it became too much. She didn’t exactly blame them.

But you faced it with her. You didn’t try to fix her or tell her to “move on.” You just stayed, listened, and made her feel like she wasn’t broken.

You stood by her, with no pressure, no expectation, no need to “make her better.”

“You don’t always have to be the strong one,” you told her one night, after she tried so hard to stop her body from shaking after one particularly harsh dream.

It was something no one had ever said to her before, and it stuck with her. It gave her the strength to turn around and look at you while tears started down her cheeks, the darkness not managing to conceal them entirely. But it was alright.

You were there.

“Was it about your dad?” you whispered, not pushing but encouraging. Silence filled the space the question left.

“No.” She finally answered, her voice unsteady in a way that she loathed. “We…we were on a patrol, and when I came back everything was destroyed. Burned to the ground. And you were….” Her words stuck, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “You were gone. You were…g-god, you were—“

Almost immediately, you hugged her, cradling her head to your chest. You were soft and warm, the steady beating of your heart thumping under her ear. It was almost scary, how comfortable it was.

“I’m right here,” you murmured softly, your hand gently running through her hair. “Hear my heart. Focus on my breaths. We’re together, Abby. We’re okay.”

The words settled over her like a balm, though the ache in her chest didn’t fully ease. The images from her nightmare still lingered—haunting, visceral, unshakable. But your presence, your warmth, gave her something solid to cling to. A light in the darkness.

“I hate it,” she finally whispered, voice raw. “I hate that I can’t protect everyone. That everyone seems to just…go eventually. And that I can’t do anything about it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes soft as you wiped away her tears. Your touch was gentle, your expression firm but kind.

“Abby, you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowing in frustration. “But what if I lose you? What if I can’t stop it?”

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, your hands cupping her face. “And even if the worst happens, it’s not because you failed. It’s because the world is cruel sometimes. But no matter what, I need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

Her lips quivered, another tear slipping down her cheek, but she didn’t look away. For once, she let herself be seen—completely, raw and exposed.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Abs.” You patiently reminded. “It’s okay to let someone else carry the weight sometimes.”

You continued, your voice steady. “You have me.”

Abby let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to truly let go. She melted into your embrace, burying her face in your neck as the last of her resistance crumbled.

You stayed like that, holding her through the quiet sobs, through the silence that followed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” she said. “For staying.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, your hand still running soothingly through her hair. “Always,” you replied. “I’ll always stay, Abby.”

BONUS

+) Not minding her overprotective nature

Everyone knows Abby is a deeply loyal person. She wants her loved ones to be safe more than anything, and she is willing to do anything for them. That usually manifested as her being slightly overprotective at times.

With you, it happened more often than not. She would step in at the slightest sign of you having any issue. Usually, she did it through small gestures that were partly unconscious to her. Like knowing your schedule by heart and accompanying you to your room late at night with a secure hand on your lower back. Happily listening to your rambling while still keeping an eye out.

Watching over you in every room came naturally to her.

She was particularly tense when you, as the executive chef, asked for permission to assist in a supply run and gather some materials. Abby always insisted that you only go when she was available. She didn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe like she did.

The most dramatic displays of her protectiveness came when you were confronted by recruits making greedy demands.

“Back off,” she practically growled, appearing behind you like a shadow. The person usually stammered, probably not conscious of who your girlfriend was until her imposing frame stood threateningly in front of them.

Afterward, she turned to you, all the aggression melting away as she gave you soft eyes. “You good?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And you meant it—being with Abby made you feel safe in a way you never had before.

You weren’t exactly “on the frontlines” material. You arrived at the WLF when you were pretty young, and after going through everything, even the sight of a gun left you uneasy. So when Isaac saw your cooking abilities, he allowed you to stay at the base under the title of side-line cook. You eventually rose through the ranks, and that was that.

You preferred dealing with narcissistic soldiers over facing those vicious creatures. In a way, you grew accustomed to being pushed around, even though you knew how to defend yourself. But that all changed when you met Abby.

Standing at 5’9 and with a build that seemed crafted by the gods themselves, it was safe to say people left you alone after associating with her. So, even if you knew how to stand your ground, you enjoyed being protected by her.

You didn’t mind when she walked ahead of you during runs, her broad shoulders shielding you from any threat that could come your way. When she insisted on carrying the heavier bag or checking your gun a couple of times before leaving—just in case.

Not even when she glared at anyone who looked at you for more than five seconds in a way she deemed unacceptable.

You didn’t mind any of it because you knew it came from a strong sense of caring. That’s who she was. She cared deeply.

So, whenever she hovered near as you collected some herbs just a little outside the perimeter of the stadium (an area kept clear of infected), her eyes following your every move, you didn’t roll your eyes or brush her off. Instead, you smiled softly, glancing up at her as she leaned against a tree, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to watch me like a hawk, you know,” you teased lightly. “This is a pretty safe zone.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep an eye out.”

Setting the basket down, you stood and moved next to her, gently nudging her to sit. She understood your intentions—she always did—and with her back against the trunk of the tree, she made space for you to settle between her legs, resting against her.

“I know,” you said, leaning into her warmth. “And I appreciate it.”

Abby’s expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You don’t think I’m… too much?”

“Not at all,” you said, glancing back at her and managing to place a soft kiss on the side of her jaw. “You make me feel safe. That’s never too much.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that quiet, steady gaze that always made you feel like you were the center of her world.

And when she reached out to embrace you, resting her head in the crook of your neck, her touch so gentle, you knew you wouldn’t trade her protectiveness for anything.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Fully prepared for this to be a minority position but I am deeply emotionally invested in Paul and Chani not getting back together in Dune Messiah. Not just because I love angst and tragedy (I do) but because I don't think there's a way to do it without undermining the narrative and character arcs that Dune Part Two executed so well.

Paul and Chani's relationship in the Villeneuve films exists on a totally different foundation from what's in the books. It's a political love story and you simply cannot separate out the politics from the romance. Their connection starts with the politics and the love is built on top of that.

It's not just that they happen to fall in love while fighting together in an anti-colonial guerrilla war; that is why she falls in love with him. Because he is willing to take the same risks as her in fighting for her people's liberation. Not by trying to impose himself as a leader (at first) but side by side with her as comrades and equals. Let me fight beside you. That's all I'm asking. He is quite literally willing to put his body on the line for a struggle that's been with her all her life, that she cannot escape, but that he could walk away from if he chose. And in fact he proves himself to be an asset and not a liability in this struggle and they start winning. And yeah that shit's romantic as fuck!! Kudos to whoever on the writing team was like actually direct action solidarity is sexy af because they were right and they should say it! There clearly is some attraction or at least interest in Paul on Chani's part from fairly early on, but it's only after he's proven his political worth, in battle, that she allows herself to trust him on a personal level enough to begin a romantic relationship with him. (And it's only after Paul takes off the Atreides ring, the symbol of the fact that he came there to rule over her, that the narrative permits him to advance to this point.) They could have been comrades but not lovers, but never the other way around, because there's no other version of Paul that this Chani would have fallen in love with.

It's important that they meet in circumstances where Paul has no structural power over her. Chani never would have trusted the Paul who stood in the colonial palace and pledged to "honor" Stilgar by offering him hospitality on his own fucking planet. Because she would have known, just as Stilgar did, that such an offer of fellowship, no matter how genuine and well-intentioned, is not made on equal terms. It's only once Paul has been forcibly separated from his colonial privilege that they have even a chance to approach each other as human beings. (And, in a sort of dark irony, that violence becomes a bridge that connects them. That Paul is driven not by abstract power games among the Great Houses but by real grief and anger over the violent death of people he loves at the hands of the Harkonnens must surely be something Chani understands. And it builds a level of trust and empathy between them, that she doesn't have to explain the stakes of what they're fighting for. He knows it in his bones.)

It's not a coincidence that all their explicitly romantic moments are shot through with politics. Their first kiss is wrapped up in a conversation about what it means to be Fremen and I would very much like to be equal to you. (Yes, he's flirting his ass off with that line, but I do think he is sincere.) Their single post-coital scene has I'm no messiah, I'm a fedaykin of Sietch Tabr--not just a commitment to her people and her home but to her specific form of political struggle in which he is joining her. Throughout their whole relationship, the personal and the political are so interwoven as to be indistinguishable from one another.

This kind of commingling of emotional commitment to a person with political commitment to a culture/people/cause could have very easily slid into something tokenizing or fetishistic, but the writing manages to avoid that by sticking very strongly to a couple of guardrails. One, Chani is not some passive prize to be won, but an active agent of her own liberation, whether Paul is in the picture or not. She is the Fremen liberation struggle within the political allegory of the film; she is its voice and embodiment from the moment we meet her. On a character level, she is doing her thing and it's up to Paul to either follow or get out of the way. Even though we know he is afraid of her dying, he never once suggests she leave the front lines of armed struggle (can you imagine?) because that struggle is such a fundamental part of who she is and what he loves about her.

Two--and this one is important for what comes next--the narrative never trivializes the political side of their relationship in favor of the romantic. The second Paul reaches for any kind of power over the Fremen, over Chani, the trust between them is broken and the romance cannot continue. She might still love him as a person--you don't just turn that off--but she cannot be in love with him as the Lisan al-Gaib, fulfillment of a false prophecy she hates; as the Duke of Arrakis, her colonial overlord; or as the Emperor of the Known Universe, overlord of her overlord. As soon as he pulls that shit he is just another colonizer and she's done with him.

And like, kudos to the narrative for being absolutely uncompromising on that point! That's what makes both the political allegory and the personal tragedy hit so hard! Paul, bro, you fucked that one up good and now you are Experiencing a Consequence! I LOVE that in the end, love isn't enough. All the love in the world isn't enough to keep Chani from walking out at the end of the film, because the foundation that love is built on is broken and cannot be repaired.

(I do believe that by the time he is declaring himself Emperor, Paul thinks he has no choice, that this is the only way to save the people he loves from any number of worse fates. But that, too, is a betrayal, of a kind I don't think Paul fully understands. Because either you think the Fremen are capable of governing their own planet or you don't. Deciding unilaterally that having a "friendly" imperialist in power is the best you can hope for is a profound denial of the agency of the people Paul claims to be doing this in the name of. It's either paternalism or despair, and neither are acceptable modes of thinking for a serious revolutionary. Chani would tell you as much.)

The thing with making a bold writing choice like that is that...you cannot then walk it back in the next film with Chani choosing to forgive Paul or coming around to seeing the world his way and understanding that yes it's politically unsavory and he's manipulating the people he said he was in solidarity with but this was the only way! If you do that then the whole framework of what the first two films are trying to say about power and imperialism and resistance and solidarity collapses into incoherence. On a thematic level Dune Messiah is all about the consequences of Paul taking power the way he did and these are the consequences.

And on a character level...I just don't see any way to come back from such a deep betrayal. Even if some part of Chani still loves him. Even if she's pregnant with his child(ren). (We have like, zero information about how movie Chani feels about family and pregnancy and childrearing that would indicate that she would care one bit about her children's biological father being involved in their lives when he is otherwise busy being a space dictator.)

There are several categories of scenarios I can think of to get Paul and Chani interacting again (she goes back to him as a spy/assassin; she's brought back to the palace under some sort of duress, "for her safety" or even as a political prisoner) but none of them involve them being genuinely together as a couple. I could also see them not interacting at all for most of Dune Messiah. What I cannot see is any scenario in which she genuinely forgives him or ever fucking trusts him again. That shit is over and there's no getting it back.

[tac-the-unseen]

Poly!The Lost boys Nest Headcannons

Centered around Mate!Reader

Mostly sfw, but the last three are nsfw

•Vampire Nesting is a traditional practice categorized as a mating/courting behavior

•When vampires meet their future/current mates a repressed part of their biology activates. This includes many different behaviors including nesting.

•Bats naturally use scent to attract their mates as well as fluttering their wings, vocalizing desire, and grooming each other

•This translated into vampires as Cologne/perfume scenting, gentle touches, romantic speech, purring, buzzing, and brushing/combing hair

•Once courting turns into romantic relationships Vampires begin to set up a nest for their mate to stay in

•When David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko begin to experience these nesting behaviors they all connect and start the process for you

•Before they met you they were all just mated to each other and built a nest for each new attention to their partnerships.

•David built one for Dwayne

•They both worked together to make a new one for Paul

•And when Marko came along the three of them remade the nest for him too

•Now all four of them are deconstructing their old nest to make it new for you

•This involves a lot of collecting materials, making new materials, and, of course, shouting

•They all work together to construct the pile of soft fabrics and furs and shape it to hold all five of you with extra wiggle room

•They make it pretty clear that you're not allowed to help but you can contribute some clothes, blankets, and an occasional opinion

•They ask if you want to have the nest on the ground or elevated slightly

•Which basically means ‘do you want two smushed together mattresses on the floor? Or do you want two bed frames pushed together?’

•Marko will sew the mattresses together so they can't come apart

•Whenever you get too close to the area, you are kindly redirected somewhere else

•”You can watch Darling, but you can't step into the nest quite yet.” Dwayne would say softly while shuffling you off to a dresser or bean bag you can sit on

•It was quite amusing watching them shout at each other for being in the way of putting something in the wrong area

•”You can't put the blanket all the way down there! That makes it useless!” Marko would snap at Paul

•”You're putting to much of your stuff near the top! Leave room for the rest of us!” Paul would complain at David

•It was a complete back and forth, with even Dwayne raising his voice when Marko kick some of his contributions out of the way

•What was funnier was the tone shift when you spoke up. One moment they're yelling about some and when you chime in they become softer with you. That only added when they immediately start yelling at each other again.

”DON’T FUCKING MOVE MY SHIRT!”

“THEN GET IT OUT OF THE WAY!”

“What if you just layed your shirts side by side instead of just throwing them out?”

“Good idea, Love! You're so smart!”

“HEAR THAT YOU SHITTER? THEY SAID NOT TO MOVE MY STUFF!”

•All of them are in snippy moods, so it's best just not to get in the way

•Once everything is in place they finally let you into the nest. They wanted you to be the first one, so not only could you get your scent all over it, but to allow you to make adjustments.

•Once everything is to your liking they ask if they can join you. As soon as you say yes they're on all sides of you.

•Kissing, cuddling, purrs, and buzzing all around while they push you into the soft fabrics

•They also make sure to give you the rundown of nest culture and etiquette

•”I know we typically don't give a fuck about rules, but these ones we care about.”

•The basic run down is:

-No one is allowed in the Nest other then you and them

-No one is allowed to even touch the Nest other then you guys

-Things can be taken out at anytime for almost any reason but for the most part you should just leave that to them

-You have the right to kick anyone out of the nest at anytime

-This is a where you'll sleep when your in the cave

-The nest is basically your sanctuary and they'll treat it as such

•All of this told to you sporadically and in-between several acts of affection

•For the first couple of days of there being a new nest, whenever you're in the cave they want you in the nest

•They will actually pick you up and put your there (it's a bit frustrating at first but it only lasts about four days)

•You bet your ass the sex is spectacular too

•They will bring you food and water, read to you, massage you, and even go down on you constantly ‘just so the nest gets all of your scent’

•All and all royalty treatment

Thanks for reading <3

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 7

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3260

Warnings: I think... we all know what's gonna happen...

A/N: The second to last chapter, guys! All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Something had changed. Within a few hours, Dean became more distant again. At first Y/N thought it was just because of the letter. They had both lost sight of the fact that they would definitely see Y/N's family again at some point. But when Y/N's shock wore off, she wanted to see if Dean felt the same way. However, he had withdrawn from her again. When she asked if everything was okay, he only answered briefly and then left their bedroom. That had left Y/N with an uneasy feeling.

It was late at night when Dean returned. Without a word, he got into bed with her, but turned his back to her. This brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. They had only just found each other. The affection they had built was still fragile. They were just beginning. Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn't yet solid. Yes, Y/N loved Dean. But did he now feel the same way? She didn't know.

Still, the next morning came quicker than Y/N had hoped. With each passing hour she became more afraid. What would happen if Dean saw Helena again? Would his feelings for her flare up again? His anger about the wrong wedding too? Would he realize that he was just passing his time with Y/N? Made the best of an unchangeable situation? Would he reject her again?

Y/N stood at the window and looked out at the street. At some point Ellen joined her. The women didn't speak to each other, but Y/N knew that Ellen understood what was going on with her. At some point they heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and both turned around. When Dean saw the two women, his pace slowed.

"Can you... see them yet?"

"No. Everything is still quiet." Ellen answered him.

Dean just nodded and then wanted to go outside, but Y/N couldn't just let him go.

"Dean!"

The man stopped, his eyes a little wide, but when he saw Y/N approaching him, his gaze seemed to soften a little. Or Y/N was just imagining it. She stopped a few steps in front of him, unsure if he would even allow physical contact. But since Dean's hand didn't reach out to her, she preferred to play it safe. She smiled timidly at him, but all the words that had been on the tip of her tongue were gone. After a moment, Dean cleared his throat slightly and folded his arms behind him.

"I..." Y/N began, but again she faltered in her words. "You... you came to bed late." That wasn't what she wanted to say.

"Yes, I... Benny needed my help with Rika. She had her foal."

"What? Really?" Now Y/N was really surprised, because this pregnancy had not been an easy one.

"She had a healthy daughter."

Y/N was really happy about that and her face seemed to show it, because Dean was now grinning warmly. And somehow this news managed to make both of them take a step towards each other.

"Why didn't you tell me that when you came up?"

"I didn't want to wake you. You slept so peacefully."

He couldn't see through the darkness that that wasn't true. And yet it touched Y/N's heart and they exchanged an intense look. Then Dean lifted his hand, almost as if he wanted to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but he didn't get around to it.

"They're here!" Ellen announced, still standing at the window and letting the ominous news sink in.

Three hours later, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. It was unbelievable how quickly you could slip back into old roles.

As soon as Helena stepped out of the carriage, she attracted everyone's attention. She was friendly to everyone, greeted everyone warmly and her laughter could be heard almost everywhere. She was an apparition, as always. And Y/N disappeared into the background again. As always. She had now forgotten what it was like to be invisible and remembering it again brought back her insecurities and made her afraid to stand by Dean's side.

But even if she had taken her place next to her husband, she was no longer sure whether he would have even noticed. Helena had Dean completely occupied and he seemed to enjoy the attention she was giving him. In the meantime he had shown her his property and finished the tour at the stable. There they stood at the fence and talked. Y/N stood nearby and tried to look over at the two of them inconspicuously.

"So this is your sister Helena." Benny suddenly stood next to her and looked suspiciously at Dean and the blonde woman.

Y/N was slightly startled. "Yes. Yes, she is."

"The woman Dean actually wanted to marry."

"Exactly..."

"How many years younger than you?"

"Four."

"Hmm..."

Silence fell between the two friends as they continued to look at the fence. But Y/N had to avert her gaze at some point. Her uneasy feeling hadn't gone away and it hurt a little to see the two of them together.

"As good a businessman as he is..." Benny said after a few minutes. "...he sometimes has so little idea about women."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked in surprise.

"She's too obvious." Now Benny also turned away and looked at Y/N. "The exuberant way. That exuberant laugh. And if Dean doesn't pay attention to her for a moment, her mask falls a little. But only until Dean looks at her again."

Now Y/N looked at Benny in surprise and he grinned. "Your sister isn't quite as inconspicuous as she thinks." he winked.

"Benny? I really like you." and suddenly she didn't feel quite so invisible next to her sister.

The blonde man laughed and crossed his arms infront of his chest. "Well, thank you."

"How is the foal doing?" Y/N now wanted to know.

"She's doing really great. We only need a name for her.

"Y/N?" called Millie as she was coming over to her and Benny. "Y/N!"

She looked a little worried as she came to a stop in front of Y/N and Benny. "Your father is looking for you. He wants to talk to you."

She felt uneasy and wanted to look over at Dean, but she didn't. At the moment he only had eyes for Helena again and probably wouldn't even notice what was happening and how Y/N was doing. Of course that didn't make it any better.

So she simply went back into the castle and immediately found her father standing next to the stairs. She wasn't exactly looking forward to a conversation, but she wouldn't be able to change it. As soon as he saw her, he reached out to lightly grab Y/N by the upper arm and pull her closer to him.

"So? How's it going?" he also asked directly.

"What...what do you mean?"

"Well, with Dean! Are you keeping him happy? You're not embarrassing me, are you?"

Y/N couldn’t answer that straight away. That he even had the nerve to ask that? Had he forgotten that they were all in this situation because of Helena?

"I mean, of course he won't be happy. After all, you're not the woman he actually wanted. But that doesn't mean you have to make things worse."

"I'm sorry, what?" she blurted out.

The door opened and Helena came in. Speaking of the devil. She had a big smile on her face and looked around with her arms outstretched.

"It's really so beautiful here. I never imagined it would be like that."

"It is, isn't it?" Her father chimed in. "Where did you leave Dean?"

"Oh, he's still outside with... with..." Helena thought about it, but quickly gave up. "...with whoever is in charge of the stable. Something with one of the horses."

Benny. She meant Benny. Her sister could be so ignorant sometimes. And then Y/N remembered Benny’s words.

"Helena?" she jumped right in. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Then Helena just nodded and Y/N led her into one of the unused side rooms that were usually only used for celebrations. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. Helena seemed to have no idea what was going on or what her sister might want from her.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked after a couple of seconds.

"What?" Helena looked at her rather confused.

"Well, let me rephrase. Why are you even here?" Y/N asked again, a little more upset.

"What's the point of this question? I'm your sister!"

Helena said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. As if it explains her behavior. But Y/N knew she was trying to distract. However, she wouldn't succeed.

"And where is Peter?" Now Helena's face hardened a little. "Shouldn't you be with him? Or shouldn't he at least be here with you?"

"The thing with Peter and me... didn't work out." Helena answered briefly, but Y/N could see the emotions in her eyes.

"What do you mean, it didn't work out? You ran away! He was obliged to marry you!"

After all, Helena had already been promised. So Peter had to answer for this act. Regardless of whether it was Helena's idea or not. She had been on her way to another man. Not only did her reputation suffer, but also that of her family. Her feelings had determined her fate and now she had to come to terms with them.

"But he couldn't do that because he was already married!" the younger woman blurted out.

This was news that even Y/N hadn't expected. Helena had fallen for a fraud.

"He's been married for almost six years. He also has a child..." Helena looked down and played with her fingers a little nervously. "...But they probably didn't get along anymore. So...he left her. And then he sought refuge with us."

Y/N could still remember that. He had joined the clan four years ago and had arrived desperately asking for work.

"You can't imagine what happened when she suddenly burst through the door into the pastor's house with the little boy on her hand..."

"Helena!" Y/N interrupted her sister a little harshly. "Did you even know him?"

"He really loved me!" she replied just as harshly. "And I loved him too!"

Y/N was at a loss for words. For once she believed her sister. Even if her actions were pretty stupid. The heart was easily deceived, but that didn't make the feelings any less real. Y/N in particular understood this all too well. Still, it wasn't entirely clear to her why Helena was here now.

"Okay, but... at the risk of repeating myself... why are you here now?"

"Father didn't want to leave me alone and thought it would be better if I came here too."

Which in turn meant that he was afraid she would do something stupid or run away again. Y/N could understand that too, but it still didn't explain her behavior.

"I understand that... but it doesn't explain your behavior towards Dean. In case you've forgotten... I'm married to him now."

Now Helena grinned. "Oh, sis. Are you jealous?"

"What? No, I..."

"You don't have to be. He's just... showing me everything here."

Something about the way she said it didn’t sit well with Y/N. "If it's really just that, then why don't you leave his side anymore?"

Helena didn't answer immediately, as if she were struggling with herself. But then she sighed briefly and took a few steps towards Y/N. As if she wanted to tell her a secret.

"You know, I'm really grateful to you for helping me and stepping in for me. You not only helped me, but also our father. But... well... after things with Peter ended so unexpectedly... I've been thinking about a lot of things."

Y/N frowned. A foreboding feeling rose within her and she knew she wouldn't like what came next.

"Maybe I was too blind, too narrow-minded. I never gave Dean a real chance, you know? Because I was always focused on Peter. But now... I just think that maybe it's for the best to take this burden off of your shoulders again."

"What?" Shock spread through the older woman.

"After all, Dean only wanted me from the start. And you said it yourself: YOU are not the right bride! So maybe it would make sense for everything to finally take its right course."

"You... you can't be serious!" Y/N felt a chill run down her spine and fear spread through her.

"Yes, of course! And as you can see, Dean still doesn't mind me either. I think that would be best for all of us."

The next three days passed almost like a blur. Every day was almost the same and Y/N felt with every passing hour that Dean was moving further and further away from her. He hardly looked at her anymore because Helena continued to demand attention from him and didn't seem to want to let up. When they were in the same room or in the shared bedroom in the evening, Dean hardly spoke to her anymore. He rejected every attempt on her part to get closer. He didn't seem to notice that he was hurting her again with his behavior, which reminded her so much of their early days.

So Y/N also withdrew more and more. She tried to avoid her family as much as possible. She couldn't stand her father's lectures or Helena's attempt to win Dean back. Millie had said that she should fight for Dean and she had tried. But Dean had put up the wall between them again and behaved almost as if Y/N didn't exist. At least that's how it seemed to her.

On top of all that, the feeling that she was being followed had become stronger again. She had to suppress the urge to constantly look over her shoulder, even though she always got goosebumps when she was alone somewhere. The climax was not long in coming.

Y/N had watched Dean and Helena disappear on a ride when she had walked a few steps along the castle wall so as not to lose sight of them. A torture that she had consciously inflicted on herself, but she had not been able to help it.

She did not know how long she had watched the two of them, but suddenly she heard Ellen calling her name loudly. She looked over at the older woman, who was gesticulating wildly and running towards her. So Y/N looked up and saw that one of the large stone figures that were attached to the edge of the tower above her had fallen directly on her. Y/N was only just able to jump to the side and remained unharmed.

After that, she couldn't take it anymore. It was just too much. She started to cry and her whole body was shaking. Someone really had it in for her and Dean didn't care. Ellen tried to calm her down, helped Y/N up and took her inside to the kitchen. There she sat the young woman down at the table and filled her a cup of wine.

But Y/N could hardly calm down for a long time. She didn't want to be alone again. Not after Dean had let her get so close to him. And then there was the attempt on her life. All of this couldn't be true.

"Take a sip, Y/N. It calms your nerves." Ellen tried again.

"But I don't want to drink anything," Y/N blurted out. "I want this to all end. I want Dean to finally open his eyes and come back to me."

An understanding look graced Ellen's face and she hugged Y/N lightly. It wasn't easy for her to watch all of this either. And she would have to talk to Sam and Benny as soon as possible if they hadn't heard about the incident already.

"I miss my mum so much," Y/N whispered, but Ellen had understood her. "She would have known exactly what to do now."

And that was true. Y/N hadn't had it easy from the start after Helena was born. She had shed a lot of tears in her whole life and even though her mother had loved them both equally, she had always taken a little more care of Y/N.

"And what would she have done to cheer you up?" Ellen wanted to know.

Y/N laughed quietly. "She would have made me some warm milk and told me that everything would be fine. Before she told me some funny story from her childhood."

"Well, I can also help you with some warm milk." Ellen winked and went over to the stove. "She sounds very nice."

"She was wonderful." Y/N answered and her tears began to dry up. "Everyone liked her."

"May I ask how she died?" Ellen asked carefully as she filled a pot with milk, put it on the stove and lit the fire.

Y/N did not answer immediately. "She was ill. No one could say exactly what was wrong with her, but within a year she lost a lot of weight. She became weaker and weaker until at some point she could no longer even stand up." Sadness overcame her again and she looked down. "The morning she died, the first snow of the year fell..."

So it wasn't long until the anniversary of her mother's death. Ellen didn't know what to say. Silence spread between the two women as they waited for the milk to warm up. After it had reached the right temperature, Ellen added a little cinnamon and handed Y/N a cup, for which she thanked her.

"I know I'm not your mother and I don't want to replace her. But I definitely know one thing." Now Y/N looked at the woman across from her. "You have to talk to Dean. And you can't let him fob you off. Make him listen to you. For both of your sakes."

And Y/N knew that Ellen was right. She had to at least try it again. After all, something had changed between them. He had also felt attracted to her. She was sure of that. So she made her way upstairs shortly afterwards. When Dean came back from riding, he always went to their bedroom first to change. So she would wait for him there and confront him.

But when she got upstairs and walked straight to the door, she saw Alex who had already opened it and was carefully looking inside. That was strange, because he would normally never just open the door like that. Especially not when neither of them was inside.

"Alex?" asked Y/N and saw the young man slightly startled. "What are you doing?"

"Oh! Y/N!" he quickly closed the door again and scratched the back of his head slightly nervously. "I... I'm looking for Dean. But when I knocked, no one answered. So I just wanted to see if he was sleeping. I couldn't find him anywhere."

That made more sense. Especially since they had a situation like that just a few weeks ago. Dean hadn't been very happy about being rudely roused from a nap.

"He's not here. He went horseback riding with Helena."

"Oh. Okay. Then I'll just wait for him outside. Sorry again."

"It's fine, Alex." Y/N assured him and watched the young man go down the stairs.

After he disappeared from Y/N's sight, the young woman took another deep breath. She had a plan and this time Dean wouldn't get away from her so easily.

A/N: Our girl is going to fight for Dean again. Let's just hope he'll realize that it will be his second chance to her heart. 🫣

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@formulas-bitch

[reflectingiridescent]

It's really fun in Leverage s4 to make fun of how messy Nate/Sophie are because they are a mess. They've wanted each other for over a decade, had an emotional affair while Nate was married, have built versions of each other up and had to tear them down, have gotten used to dynamic after dynamic with the team and also different identities for the two of them? They are the king and queen of control issues respectively, and they have to go through The Gauntlet to figure out how that works in a relationship with someone else.

That's why the physical stuff is never going to cost them as much as the emotional stuff? And so that's how we get their romantic relationship kind of sputtering to start.

That said, their relationship tracks really, really nicely in almost every single episode of s4? Like they start a regular physical relationship up in the episode right before The Carnival Job, and The Carnival Job - in one of the first scenes - answers the question of why they haven't progressed any further.

Nate, on how he knew Molly's mother was dead: It's the way he looks at Molly. He loves her, but also, she reminds him of something that he's lost.

And you know what the camera does as he's saying this? It slides over him so we can see over his shoulder, and it focuses on Sophie, who has the next line.

Sophie: Well, that explains his focus on the house. He's compensating for his loss by exerting power over his world.

I love the way both actors play these lines. It's such efficient storytelling. They're giving us exposition about the mark, but they're also reminding us that Nate lost a child, and he has not laid that to rest. Running the Leverage crew allows Nate a sense of control over the world. He's always had control issues, but Sam hurt more than anything else, in a way that nothing will ever again. While Leverage helps him do a lot of good, it is also born from in part from his grief (and anger, but that's not the emotion this episode is dealing with).

It's why he can't go for Sophie directly, even though they both clearly want a relationship. (It's why she goes for him in such an indirect way. He just can't look upon the both of them directly.) He loves her. She loves him. But she, in a way that no one else on the crew does, is a visceral reminder of his past. (One could also argue that Nate's line also explains why his marriage broke up after Sam's death, but since the camera falls to Sophie right after...we're probably talking about Sophie right now.) His attraction to her existed while Sam was still alive, while he was still in a happy family, and while he had the illusion of control.

And Sophie? Sophie understands. There are a lot of episodes this season where she is regularly checking in on him to see where his head is at, to make sure he isn't flying off the rails or self-destructing. But this episode is not one of them. She does it just once at the end of the episode, but Nate's not triggered by the loss of a partner. He, like the rest of the crew, closes ranks when a child is in danger, but Molly's not in the hospital or terminally ill. No one's withholding her treatment. And she's alive and well because of the team's intervention.

More importantly, the team helps her heal her relationship with her father.

This episode is about picking up the pieces after a loss, about discovering through a lot of turmoil that work can't replace the people you have left.

This is why it's one of the few Leverage episodes where we like the mark over the client, right? The client's focused on his work and ultimately misses the point at the end. Meanwhile, we get this:

Nate: Oh, you know, sometimes when you lose something that's important, something that centers you, something that you feel you can't live without, you lose how to live.

Like, he's trying. He also doesn't even know where to start. And so for all of the games he and Sophie play with each other this season, in context...it's almost kind? That she pulls him along little by little and lets him choose if he's going to go the rest of the way? It's not comfortable for either of them, but they're trying their best to move in the same direction together.

[yanyandam]

(I can't even find any other hc bonten that I like as much as yours so I've come to reapply 🥰🥰).

The members of the bonten have a casual sexual relationship there were several rules. Don't fall in love, if the other loves someone else they all stop and they can sleep with whoever they want on their own. (No details on the sex if it bothers you) but after a while reader ends up falling in love with him and doesn't want him to sleep with anyone else and she only wants him for herself. ( you can do the members of the bonten who could potentially be in this situation I'll leave you free rein darling).

I LOVE YOURS WORKS PLSSS WRITE MOREEEE <333

WOW. After a month, i'm finally finishing my requests lmao. Hope I got your sceanrio right! (No smut included)

I THINK WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM (BONTEN)

You hadn’t planned to love MIKEY. But it happened: slowly, stupidly, with each night where he let you see the cracks behind his violence.It wasn't just a matter of screwing the boss so he wouldn't lose it completely and fuck himself up. You needed Bonten, in your personal affairs, but also deep down in your soul. You wanted him whole, not just around. So tonight, when he mentions offhandedly he’s going to "blow off steam" with someone else, something breaks. "Don’t," you mutter, barely above the music. He turns lazily. "What?" You can't hide it. "I don’t want you with anyone else. I know we weren’t supposed to… but I’m in love with you." Silence. The air turns razor sharp. He stares, jaw clenched, taiyaki trembling slightly between his fingers. "You think I’m built for that?"

You knew. Damn well.

 "You want me to promise you loyalty when I can’t even trust myself alone in a room?"

But then, softer, broken. "You’re the only one who sees the rot in me and stays. And you still want more?" He doesn’t say yes. But he doesn’t leave. That night, he sleeps beside you, fully clothed, hand wrapped around yours like a lifeline.

When you confess, SANZU laughs. Loudly. Nervously.He'd promised to have faith only in Mikey, but he was allowed to engage in carnal relations as long as they didn't get in the way of Bonten. It disgusted him enough to bang a different woman every time, so he decided to seal a pact with an entrepreneur he found rather attractive. You.

 "You dumb or just soft?" he sneers, gripping your chin. "This was never about love."

You step back, humiliated. "I know what this meant, but I also know how you look at me when you think I’m asleep." That shuts him up. The others glance over at the commotion, but he waves them off. He’s breathing heavy now, biting his tongue. "You want me to never sleep with other women? For you?" You nod, hurt but defiant. He’s quiet. Later… His voice is low. "You win." He looks pissed. Like he’s just lost a war with himself.

"You’re the only one I don’t wanna lie to." He didn't know what the future would bring. Anyway, you weren't a priority; he wanted to persuade himself that way.

You don’t say it at first. You just go quiet when KAKUCHO tells you about another woman.  He notices immediately, he always does. He appreciated your character ever since a bar encounter: not too attached, not too invasive, and quite attractive. He had a lot of respect for you. But he did notice something. "Say it." You shake your head. "We’re not supposed to fall in love. That was the rule."

He sighs, long and tired. "And yet here you are. Loving a man like me." You nod, throat tight.  He looks away, almost ashamed. "I didn’t sleep with her. I was going to. But when I thought about someone else touching me, and it wasn’t you… it made me sick."

You blink, stunned. He gives you a tired smile.

"Guess I broke the rules too."

KOKONOI’s already halfway out the door when you snap. He didn't want anything serious, but he did have some primary needs. So he sealed a deal with you, a few bills in proposition, which you refused. That's when he knew something was wrong with you. Something that would hold him back. "Don’t go. I don’t want you sleeping with anyone else." He stops. "We agreed."

"I lied."

He turns, eyes sharp. The room goes silent.  "You want exclusive from me? You think I’m some boyfriend type?"

You say nothing. He walks back slowly, presses a wad of cash into your hand, and murmurs: "You cost me my freedom, you know that?"

Then, a kiss: deep and angry and hungry. "Fine. I’m yours. But if you ever lie again, I’ll burn it all down."

You blurt it out one night after a messy dinner in MOCHI’S apartment.You'd been seeing him for some time despite his status, and you couldn't deny that he was a fairly respectful man behind closed doors.

You'd been seeing him for some time despite his status, and you couldn't deny that he was a fairly respectful man behind closed doors.

 He’s talking about some girl who tried to kiss him at the club. "I don’t want to hear about other women. I want you to stop."

He freezes mid-bite. "Wait... are you in love with me?"

You nod, cheeks flushed. "Fuck." He sets his bowl down, staring at it like it holds the answers. "I wanted this to stay fun. Easy. But now I feel like I’d gut a man who even looks at you." He sighs, rubs his face. "Guess I’m in love with you too. We’re both screwed, huh?"

You tell RAN during cleanup after closing one of his clubs.You had tried to apply there as a hostess two months ago, but he offered instead to take you under his wing in exchange of carnal relations; he found you far too charismatic to let just anyone have a drink with you. It’s just you two, silence heavy between clinking glasses. "I don’t want to share you anymore."

He pauses. Sets a glass down. "You’re saying that like you own me."

"No," you say, heart racing. "I’m saying that I love you."

He walks over, rests both hands on the bar, towering. "You think this life lets people like us fall in love? I raised my brother with blood on my hands."

"And I’d take that blood with you. I’m not afraid."

He studies you hard. Then he nods, almost reluctantly. "Then I’ll stop. No more women. Just you. But don’t ever ask me to stop protecting who I live for." Don’t expect him to be 100% loyal. One wrong move and everything’s dead.

You find RINDOU drunk and giggling with two hostesses, but your heart’s already in your throat. He was a funny, kind and protective man, it almost blinded you to the actions he might sometimes take during his working days. you still decided to face him, approaching him close enough "I love you. That’s why I can’t do this anymore."

He blinks. The laughter dies. "You... love me?"

You nod. His brother watches from the corner, unreadable. He sighs, pushes the women away gently.

"I’m such an idiot. I kept pretending this was just fun because I didn’t want to get hurt."He cups your cheek. "But truth is? I stopped wanting anyone else weeks ago." He kisses you later in his car like it’s the last time, even though it’s the beginning.