#wednesay

[the-fangirl-from-hell]

The Real Reason Xavier Can’t Sleep

here is part 1

pairing: Xavier Thorpe x reader, really angsty Tyler Galpin x reader if you like that

summary: in which Xavier has visions about you and can’t get you out of his head, this sparks arguments with your boyfriend.

warning: Tyler and reader are in a toxic relationship, nsfw content, swearing- lots of it, insomnia

tags: more pining, all the tags from part 1, slight smut

word count: 4.5K

au where Rowan never died and is still with the Nightshades cause the character has potential and the writers wasted it

you can asks in the notes if you wanna be tagged in part 3, it’s coming soon

Xavier could feel (Y/N)’s hands running through his hair, scratching at his scalp as a cold shiver run through his body. He could feel her hot skin pressed flush against his.

As she was lying on her back in the bed, eyes half closed and arms crossed around her chest to hide it Xavier wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. How there was no reason to be embarrassed because he loved every part of her body. How much he wanted to worship every inch of her for the rest of the night. But he stayed silent. Like something heavy in his chest was preventing him from talking.

His hands instinctively found hers, gently pinning them against the bed sheets, exposing her chest to him. He wasn’t really in control of himself, feeling almost like a remote control puppet.

Xavier held his breath as he pushed himself inside of her, whimpering at the familiar sensation of her hot walls clenching around him. Like they’re done this a thousand times.

“Tyler, take it slow for me baby,” the girl winced.

Not again.

The clock read 01:30. Xavier woke up in his room, shirtless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath, careful not to wake up his roommate.

Between the vision he had of a mysterious creature and this weird psychic link he had with Tyler Galpin of all people, he couldn’t remember the last full night of sleep he had in the past few months.

He knew they weren’t dreams. He was sure because of that one time he was out with his friends in the town, they were mostly window shopping then suddenly he was in the Weathervane, making out with (Y/N) at the back of the shop. Shaky hands grabbing at each other’s clothes, desperately trying to peel them off, needy mouths crashing against each other. Then the girl’s mouth started going lower and lower along his jaw to his neck. She gave him a gentle bite, probing him then she sunk her teeth in that one spot that made his knees weak. He started grinding against her desperate for some form of release, mind foggy with lust. Then he was back on the street with his friends surrounding him and looking extremely worried.

Xavier has had visions like this one in the past usually at night, waking him up from his slumber. He tried to write them off as some sort of weird wet dream of this girl he had a crush on.

But this time it was different. He was awake, it was the middle of the day. And as they were walking through the center of the town, he saw the girl who has been plaguing his mind leaving the café looking disheveled and flushed. And then he saw her boyfriend lean in to give her a kiss goodbye, the hickey she just left on him still visible. Xavier ran a hand over the base of his neck where he could still feel the ghost of her teeth like it happened to him. But it was Tyler. He was Tyler for a few moments; he saw the world through his eyes.

There was no going back to sleep no matter how hard Xavier tried tossing and turning. The bed was too hard, the sheets were too scratchy, and the cover was too warm.

He sneaked outside through a window and went to the shed he’s been working on restoring. Weems said if he did a good job she’d let him use it as an art studio. Since he’s having trouble sleeping he’s been going there more and more often. He even got a small mattress in the corner, covered in a sage green sheet. He liked that color a lot.

Xavier’s biggest problem was that his connection to Tyler seemed to activate whenever he was having strong emotions like when he was having sex with his girlfriend in the middle of the night. But not only that. He also saw them going on dates and having late-night chats about their lives and dreams. Xavier hated himself but he ended up falling in love with this woman he barely knew.

Without really having a plan in mind he grabbed a clean canvas and started painting her. The curvature of her neck, the valley of her breasts, the plumpness of her lips.

“I’m just doing this to get it out of my system,” he excused himself to no one in particular.

He felt dirty drawing the naked figure of someone who never undressed in front of him, who never gave him permission to, who probably barely remembers him.

Ever since that day when she drove him back to school and he snapped at her, they haven’t spoken much. They acknowledge each other on the street when they pass by one another, they exchange polite smiles and waves from a distance, sometimes a courteous ‘hi’ and ‘how are you’ followed by ‘nothing much, you?’ and a shrug. The conversations never last as much as Xavier wishes they did. He even tried apologizing for the way he acted the last time they talked but she just brushed it off as if it was nothing.

Xavier lost count of the hours he spent perfecting the painting he made, but it was light outside by the time Bianca opened the door and let herself in.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are we still going to the Fair?”

 “Morning, sleeping beauty!” Bianca cheered sarcastically. “You’ve been drooling on my shoulder.”

Xavier assessed the situation. He was in the car with the Nightshades. Rowan was driving. Bianca was right next to him in the backseat, mushed between him and Ajax.

“Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well recently,” he excused himself and then lowered his voice so that only Bianca could hear it. “You know, you could help me with that.”

“For the last fucking time, Xavier, I’m not using my siren song on you. Ask again and I’ll never speak to you.”

“Please, I’m going insane, you have to help me!”

“You guys don’t have to whisper,” Rowan chimed from behind the wheel. “We know about Xavier’s obsession with the normie girl.”

“Not as obsessed as you are with Wednesday!”

The car shook violently as Rowan parked it with a little too much force next to the forest that lead to Nevermore. A howl was heard in the distance as the group walked out of the car still arguing. They had to speak louder to cover the music and everyone else at the Fair talking.

“My mom had a vision about her, you know that. I have to figure out what it meant.”

“Well, I have visions, too. And I need them to stop.”

He even told his therapist about this girl (sparing her some of the raunchier details) and started taking medication that’s supposed to suppress his visions. They haven’t been very effective. At this point he was so desperate he was willing to ask his dad for help.

“Was it her you were painting the other morning?” Bianca asked after the rest of the group was far enough for them not to hear.

Xavier was really hoping Bianca didn’t see his drawing when she came by his shed. It was too embarrassing to explain himself and anything he’d say tasted like a lie on his lips.

It’s just a painting, it doesn’t mean anything.

I draw naked people all the time.

I just wanted to get it out of my system.

Bullshit.

“You really need to talk this out with her. Maybe she knows something about why you’re having these visions.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin-“

“You’ll think of something.”

Bianca gave a wide smile and a dramatic wave to someone to their right and Xavier turned in that direction. (Y/N) was leaning on her arm next to an archery booth looking around as if she was waiting for someone. When her eyes landed on the two of them she gave them a salute.

“It’s not polite to let her wait for you. You’ve got this.”

Bianca gave her friend a little shove in the right direction and he stumbled. The girl of his dreams (visions?) wasn’t far away and he was headed right in her direction whether he wanted to or not. Xavier tried to fight the stupid smile that was spreading across his face as he was approaching her. He lost.

“Haven’t seen you in a long time,” the girl observed.

“Yeah, I haven’t gone out in the town lately.”

The girl furrowed her brows with concern as she leaned in, giving Xavier a closer inspection. It made him inhale a sharp breath. She smelled like cotton candy and the earth after it rained. He closed his eyes for just a second, enjoying her smell and her presence. When he opened them again, the girl was still studying him so carefully, the same way you may study a puzzle you're trying to solve.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Did she know? Could she tell that she was the reason he hasn’t slept a wink last night? Or barely at all for the past month? Could she read his mind?

He was becoming paranoid.

“I look that bad, huh?”

A shy smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not at all. Just tired. I could make you a tea for insomnia, it does wonders.”

There she goes again. No one in Xavier’s life treats him like this. Like he deserves to be fawned over, protected, taken care of. He was always the strong one in his family, the emotional pillar for his parents, the one his mom would go to for advice or when she needed a shoulder to cry on. All of his girlfriends and even his friends say he’s a good listener, that it’s easy to open up to him but very rarely do they ask about his feelings. And no one tries to make it better the way (Y/N) does.

It’s like she’s the only one who sees how broken he is and knows how to fix him.

“I’ve been taking some meds, they haven’t kicked in yet. But thanks anyway, it’s nice that you offered.”

“It can’t hurt to try. Come by the Weathervane on Monday? I work there now. I’ll make you a tea free of charge,” she points her last words on his shoulder.

Xavier grabs at his shoulder and makes a grimace as if it hurt, but really it didn’t. He just likes the way the girl looks at him when she worries about him.

“Wouldn’t that get you in trouble?”

“I like trouble,” she winks. “Usually my dashing smile and smooth talking get me out of pretty much anything. I got the boss wrapped around my finger.”

He could see that. She was hard to stay mad at. Hard to say no to. If there was someone who could get away with murder simply by being charming it would be her.

“I didn’t mean with your boss.”

Xavier regretted his words almost instantly. The change on the girl's face was almost imperceptible. He might have missed it if he wasn’t paying close attention to her. The amused spark in her eyes, the one he was so enamored with, died. It made him shiver.

He shouldn't have brought it up.

“Tyler doesn’t have to know. Plus, he has nothing to hold against you. He’s the one in the wrong. By the way, I’m still sorry for what happened that day. I can’t help but feel guilty, like if I hadn’t talked to you none of it would’ve happened.”

Xavier couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t know (Y/N). He didn’t even want to think of a different universe where he was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice the girl with stars in her eyes preparing her concert, didn’t hear her playing. A world where they both pass right by each other like ships in the night, neither ever truly seeing the other. What a nightmare.

Sure, slowly falling in love with her through another man’s eyes hurt. But never knowing her would be worse.

But he couldn’t say that, could he?

“You couldn’t have known. And if anything, I should be apologizing, I came to you first... to move the piano.”

And he’d do it again, a thousand times.

“Right,” the girl smiled wistfully as if reliving a happy memory. “Thanks again for that.”

“By the way, are you still playing on this year’s Outreach day?”

She shook her head in disappointment.

“No, this Nevermore girl– Wednesday, she’s playing a cello solo this year. She’s new and struggling to fit in, at least it’s what the mayor told me.”

“It’s a shame. I was looking forward to listening to you again. You really have a gift.”

The girl looked down bashfully and Xavier felt a rush of pride. It was usually her who made him blush. He almost wanted to gently grab her chin and make her look up at him. He’s gotten even taller than he was when they met. He wondered if she noticed that.

He leaned back into the archery booth that was behind him, trying to look casual. He realized he’s been beating around the bush and completely forgot why he was there talking to her in the first place. How was he going to break this to her lightly?

“You know how I said I was a seer, right?”

The girl nodded diligently.

“Yes, like your father.”

Xavier tried not to make a face at the mention of his father. They weren’t exactly on the best of terms. He gulped, doing his best to pick the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Tyler,” the girl chimed suddenly.

Xavier’s blood ran cold at the sight of Tyler coming towards them holding a water bottle that he handed to his girlfriend. He then gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Do you mind?” he asked Xavier tauntingly. “We’re on a date.” He then turned around to his girlfriend. “Do you want me to win something for you babe?”

Xavier crossed his arms trying to look unbothered although the sight in front of him hurt more than a hundred needles poking his heart at once. It was different seeing them together like this than when he had the visions. In those Tyler wasn’t really visible, since he was seeing everything through his eyes. In those visions, he could pretend he was the one (Y/N) was kissing.

Tyler went to pay the guy behind the counter at the archery booth some money and the guy handed him a plastic bow and arrow and explained to him how to win. Xavier couldn’t help but snicker watching Tyler fail miserably at the game. There was something vindictive about the sight.

“Shut up! What are you doing here anyway?” he asked annoyed. “Don’t you have some kinda restraining order against me?”

He shot his target and missed again. His hands were gripping the object so tightly his knuckles turned white.

I could easily win a toy for her, Xavier thought.

Actually, he just might.

“As long as you can be civil for one night, I’m not gonna go to the police.”

Xavier tried to remain calm and composed in order to not betray how much his heart was beating in his chest. He wasn’t even sure if the cause was the beautiful girl standing close to him or the stress of facing his attacker for the first time in almost a year. He wasn’t afraid of Tyler, per se, but he made him uneasy. Like the feeling you get when you watch a horror movie and foreboding music starts playing.

Without breaking eye contact with Tyler Xavier threw some money on the counter and reached his hand out towards him waiting to be handed the bow. Tyler pushed it in his hands a little more forceful than needed.

“I’m not gonna hide from you forever, dude. Until I finish school, we have to share this town. Get used to it.”

Xavier moved his attention to the target and shot his first arrow. He needed to hit the bull three times to get the big frog plushy the girl seemed to be eyeing that night. He could do it.

“It’s not the town I have a problem sharing,” Tyler muttered.

Xavier told himself to relax before releasing the arrow and hitting his target perfectly. Bull’s eye. Two more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just love playing stupid, huh Thorpe? I’m not blind, I know what you’re after,” he leaned towards Xavier so close he could see his freckles. “At least you healed surprisingly well, I was sure my shoe was gonna leave a scar on your forehead. I was going to make you the next Harry Potter.”

“Maybe you’re not as strong as you think you are,” Xavier commented, his eyes still on the target.

“Cut it out, both of you!”

Xavier could hear the anger and fear in (Y/N)'s voice and he hated himself for being partially the cause of that. What made him feel even more guilty was how his body reacted to hearing her enraged and commanding voice. It reminded him of a dream - or a vision? he wasn't sure - he had not so long ago. In which she was yelling at him for something he'd done that upset her and somehow in the middle of the argument her hands took a hold of his hair and pulled his face close to hers. She started kissing him feverishly.

He visibly gulped as he tried to suppress the memory. He almost lost focus, but he still managed to hit the target. Not dead center, but close enough to still get the prize. One more.

It seemed Tyler noticed the effect his girlfriend had on the tall boy he hated so much. He tried to bite down a smirk.

“You’re right babe, I’m sorry,” he said turning towards his girlfriend, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “Did I tell you how sexy you look in that dress? Are you wearing it all for me?”

He didn’t need to say it as loud as he did, but Xavier knew it was intentional, to make him lose concentration. And it worked. For a fraction of a second, his eyes slid from his target to (Y/N) and the pretty black dress covering her body, then to Tyler’s hand gripping her hips so tight like he was afraid she was gonna fall. Or run away. Xavier took the last shot with shaky hands and failed.

“Too bad,” Tyler coed mockingly reaching out his hand. “You shot your shot and you missed. It’s mine now.”

Xavier had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the game.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The two boys were staring at each other, neither wanting to back down. Xavier realized just how stupid he was for being there just to poke Tyler further. He didn’t know what he expected to happen. That the girl of his dreams was just going to fall in his arms, begging him to save her from evil Tyler? Yeah, sure.

Maybe he wanted revenge on Tyler for what he did to him. To show him up and humiliate him. Maybe he just wanted to spend a little more time with her. To see her up close a little more. Hear her voice a little more. Stare into her eyes. He didn’t realize how much he missed her presence till he got it back. That asshole was so lucky that he got to have her all to himself and he didn’t even appreciate it. He should be worshiping the ground she walks on. Like he would.

“Stop ogling her,” Tyler pushed him against the archery stand. “She wouldn’t fuck a freak like you.”

Xavier stood up straight, reminding Tyler that he was much taller than him. A scared look surfaced on his face for just a second before it was replaced with an angry scowl. It gave Xavier a rush of confidence.

“Careful now,” he egged him on. “You don’t have your buddies with you anymore to help.”

“That’s enough. I don’t want any of you hurt again."

(Y/N) put her hands on both of the guys’ chests and pushed them apart forcefully. The same warm almost electric feeling passed through Xavier’s body as it did every time she touched him.

“Don’t cream your pants, Thorpe. She barely grazed you.”

“What is your problem, teddy?” the girl questioned her boyfriend.

Xavier knew that nickname. Teddy. Teddy bear. It’s what she usually called him in the sweet moments when they got along. When they were cuddling on the couch, watching a movie, having morning coffee together. In his delusion, Xavier almost convinced himself that she was calling him that.

“No, don’t teddy bear me! He is the problem! Why do you insist on taking his side? Do you have a thing for outcasts all of a sudden? You think his dick glows in the dark or some shit?”

“You’re being paranoid, just because I don’t want you going to jail doesn’t mean I wanna fuck the guy!”

The guy. This girl was everything to Xavier and he was just some guy to her. Some guy ruining her relationship with her boyfriend of many years.

“I’m not going to jail. Ever since last year, you’ve been acting like I’m some kind of ticking bomb always on the verge of exploding. Even right now you look at me like I’m a monster. Hell, do you even love me anymore?”

Tyler started walking away from both of them. “I’m done. Your new boyfriend can drive you home tonight.”

With his hands in his pockets, Tyler marched toward his car while his girlfriend (ex?) watched him leave with tears in her eyes. She seemed frozen for a few moments but right before Xavier could tell her anything, or apologize, she took off into the forest without a single word.

Xavier looked for a second at his friends who were watching the whole thing unfold from a safe distance. He found Bianca’s eyes and she gave him a subtle nod.

He took off towards where the girl was headed. She couldn’t let her wander off into the forest alone. Especially not at night. There was a monster in those woods and if something were to happen to her Xavier would never forgive himself.

“(Y/N), wait,” he gasped for air. “You’re really fast.”

The girl didn’t really stop but slowed down the pace for him to catch up with her.

“Only when I’m sad,” she sobbed. “I like to walk in the woods to clear my head. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“I’m sorry I’ve riled up your boyfriend. I should’ve known he’d react this way.”

“It’s not your fault, Xavier, he’s been like this for a while now. Getting angry, breaking up with me before inevitably coming back to beg for forgiveness promising he’ll never do it again. He tells me he can’t live without me only to repeat the cycle at the slightest inconvenience.”

A familiar feeling was forming in Xavier’s stomach. Helplessness. This is what he felt like every time he saw them fight through the psychic link, which was often. Tyler would get jealous over something and throw a fit. (Y/N) would bring up a complaint she had and all hell broke loose. Lately, they’ve been fighting a lot about the new girl at Nevermore, Wednesday. It seemed like Tyler was harboring a crush on her, but every time the girl brought it up Tyler would get angry and defensive.

There were so many times when Xavier wanted to crawl out of Tyler’s mind and comfort the girl in front of him. Now was his chance. This girl was crying in front of him and he wasn’t trapped behind Tyler’s eyes anymore.

His trembling hands found their way to the small of her back, arms wrapping around the girl’s shoulders protectively like he could shield her from her own feelings. Or the people who caused them. He wanted to tell her she was safe in his arms.

She responded to the hug by pulling him closer, flushed against her body, and letting out a sob. It seemed she was starving for comfort as if no one has given her that in a long time.

“You don’t deserve this,” the words left Xavier’s mouth on their own.

She was too kind to ever suffer like that for anyone. He remembered how she treated his wounds and made sure he got home safe without even knowing him. Someone like her deserved only happiness and love.

Tyler however, deserved to have his ass handed to him a couple times. Xavier would do it gladly but he wouldn’t be able to stand how (Y/N) would look at him after that.

“He made his choice,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re just trying to protect him but he won’t listen.”

He couldn’t remember a time when any of his girlfriends were that protective of him. One of them actually was encouraging him to get into fights. But she never took care of him afterward, especially not after he lost. The closest he ever came to someone like that was Bianca who clearly had a crush on him and was very watchful of him but he never felt the same way about her. She couldn’t hold a candle to the girl crying on Xavier’s shoulder right now.

“I know what you want to say. I should just end it cause this relationship is going nowhere but… It’s not that simple. I’ve known him all my life, I don’t even have an idea as to what a life without Tyler would look like. And I just can’t say no to him when he’s crying. You don’t know how heartbroken he looks when he comes back.”

She let out another heart-wrenching sob. Xavier’s arms instinctively tightened around her, as if they could forcefully glue back the pieces of her broken heart. If only he were strong enough to do that.

He felt the girl shivering in his arms. He let her go for a second to take off his jacket and place it across her shoulders. Her dress was pretty but it didn’t do much to keep her warm. And his uniform jacket looked good on her.

“Looks to me like he doesn’t have a problem making you cry. You deserve better.”

The boy’s thumb wiped away a tear from her cheek. Gingerly, as if he was afraid she’d dissipate like a mirage the second he would touch her. Because a girl like her couldn’t be real. And if she was he could never have her.

“Thank you,” her words came out merely a whisper.

Her gaze traveled north to meet his eyes and Xavier forgot how to breathe. He could feel his own pulse in his thumb which was still resting on the girl’s face. How did she manage to become more beautiful every time his eyes laid on her? He’s never wanted to kiss anyone more in his life. He knew it was wrong but doing the wrong thing has never felt so enticing.

He was holding on to his morals by a hair strand and he knew that if she made the first step; if she leaned in and closed her eyes he wouldn’t make the smallest effort to stop her. He wasn’t strong enough. If she wanted to kiss him he would let her. So they could be wrong together.

@helluvafire​ you said you wanted part two.

sorry it took so long for this to arrive. i’ve been writing on it for two weeks cause i didn’t like it, i had to rewrite a lot. then i realized it was closing in on 6k words and i still wasn’t done so i decided i’ll just chop this part in two. that’s why it ends kinda abruptly.

 so i’m already 1.5k words into part 3. hopefully it’s not gonna take me another two weeks to finish.

also this whole thing was written exclusively between 12pm and 4 am. i can’t seem to be able to write at normal hours.

[katherine-howy]

Anna:Petition to remove the "d" in Wednesday

Kitty:Wednesay

Anna:Not what I had in mind, but I'm flexible.

[brucedinsman]

ABF Wednesday Night - Join us

6/5/24 7:30 PM Chalan Pago Guam USA Bible study We are again broadcasting live, our services will be on our Facebook and webpage.   see our FACEBOOK for previous services and messages #GIVETHANKS #Outreach: That the world may know #Prayer Focus: Pray for Our Prodigals #Praise the Lord Please follow my blog  Guam Christian Blog Please follow my blog Guam Views Blog Podcast:…

[eetonmess]

Kooky

[vaniloqu3nce]

Yoko, sitting down next to Enid randomly: I think I get it now. You and Wednesday work because you’re both crazy and obsessive

Enid: What? Where the hell did that come from. I am not crazy or obsessive.

Yoko: …how many wallpapers do you have of Wednesday?

Enid: Ninety two and there aren’t enough hours in the morning to appreciate them.

Yoko: And how long have you two been dating?

Enid: One hundred sixty eight days and six hours—and…*checks her phone* nine seconds

Yoko: And what time did you first meet?

Enid: Eight thirty two am on Monday morning.

Yoko: And when is my birthday

Enid: …aren’t you dead why does that matter.

[average-woman-lover]

Enid: I love Wednesday, but her love language is acts of service.

Yoko: And why is this is an issue?

Enid: All she knows is murder and violence.

Yoko: Oh. Yeah, I could see how that could be an issue.

Enid: The other day I said a shirt made me look fat, and she just shook her head. Later that day, I walked in on her stabbing the shirt.

[yesloulou]

just why are they like this

[normal-person-i-promise]

hushed affirmations and gentle caresses

arataka reigen x female reader

no tws :] just a bunch of fluff and kissing

first chapter here, though its not needed to understand this one :> it makes more sense though

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

★ ★ ★

You wake up a little earlier than Arataka does. It's about... 10, 10 in the morning, when you awaken to see he hasn't woken up yet. The city outside your bedroom window is alive with the weekend chatter and the excited footsteps that come with it, though it's barely audible; you're too busy focusing on Arataka's slow, steady breathing as his chest rises and falls, studying the way his eyes would flutter as he shifts, trying to get comfortable...

You're still nestled comfortably in his arms, that familiar scent of his sharp cologne and the soft cotton of his white dress shirt bringing a sense of peace and comfort to you. He's warm, his arms wrapped around you almost protectively, your head resting on his chest as you lay on top of him — he's like the cutest, most comfortable pillow you've ever slept on.

And he's going to have the worst hangover.

You lay there quietly in Arataka's warm embrace, just... Staring up at his calm face, his kissable lips set in a slight smile, his eyes shut tightly as he dreams. His golden hair is disheveled, his bangs out of place and in a halo on the pillow.

He's so... Cute, god...

You find your hand on his face: tracing his jaw, feeling the sockets of his eyes and running your fingers through his hair, cradling his cheek and running a thumb across his lower lip — you're almost playing with him, like a child with a new doll, toying with and pulling whatever you can. It's hard to resist, after all; he's too cute not to touch.

Arataka doesn't awaken, thankfully.

You free your other arm from his embrace and now bring both your hands up to his face, a mischievous grin plastered on yours as your gentle hands settle on him. Pinching his cheeks, squishing and pulling them like a grandmother with her grandchild, you coo and fawn, mumbling and murmuring about how absolutely adorable he is. You run your hands through his messy hair, adjust his soft, white dress shirt, fidget with the digits of his fingers.

It's only a second later when Arataka stirs and you panic to rapidly remove your hands from his face. He shifts you in his arms, his eyes fluttering open slowly, slowly, taking a moment to focus before they find yours. He seems to short circuit as he stare at you in confusion, before—

"EH?!"

He pushes you off him quickly, scrambling to put some distance in between the two of you. He stares at you, shaken, before the events of the night come rushing back to him — it causes his face to flush a bright, bright red for just a moment before he hides his face in his hands.

Arataka grumbles and groans in embarrassment, and you can't help but find it absolutely adorable.

You were so... Warm, in his arms, it felt so... So right, like you were supposed to be there, and, oh— last night, your touch? Your sweet, sweet hands caressing his face so, so lovingly? And, god, your voice, your voice when you asked him if he was okay? The kiss—?!

He bends over on himself in the purest form of embarrassment you've ever seen, muttering and mumbling words laced with regret.

He can't help but... Miss you, though. Miss how nice it felt with you in his arms.

The whole time all these thoughts are racing through his groggy mind, you're staring at him with a mixture of concern and amusement, not sure whether to comfort him or tease him about it.

A splitting headache begins to pound at Arataka's head, an extreme fatigue forming in his muscles and limbs, and a sharp pang of regret starting to stab him in the pit of his stomach. A hangover, and regret.

"God, I messed up..." He mutters bitterly into his hands, low under his breath so that you won't hear. You hear it anyway, though.

"I warned you you'd regret it," you say to him, the smug grin you have plastered on your face audible in your voice, making Arataka grumble even louder. He stays quiet other than that, though.

Your grin widens when you don't hear a reply from him, deciding to see just how red you can get his cheeks.

You lean in close, just enough for your warm breath to ghost over his hands pressed tight to his flushed face. "And who was the one nodding his head when I asked whether he was sure?"

You let a beat of silence pass, before, with a voice laced heavily with a smug grin,

"You, was it?"

You stay quiet for a moment to see his reaction, feeling a surge of pride when you see Arataka's shoulders stiffen as he grumbles louder.

More memories, along with more opportunities to tease him, come to mind.

"And who, pray tell, was the one who asked to sleep in my flat?"

You tilt your head to the side, cradling your chin like a great philosopher pondering a deep question. Your eyes roam around the room for just a moment before they land on Arataka again — and he's aware of how your gaze traces his face, running up and down in an almost fascinated daze. You still manage to keep your tone teasing, though.

"Because it certainly wasn't me."

Arataka makes muffled sobbing noise, almost in pain as you watch the red from his cheeks spill over to his ears and neck.

God, you're so... Annoying, especially when you talk like that, reminding him of all the things he did when he was drunk last night...

He— he was drunk, okay?! He wasn't thinking straight! It doesn't matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he—!

"Stop... Talking..." Arataka groans through gritted teeth, his tone begging and his voice thick with regret.

You arch a teasing brow at him.

"Oh? And why is that?"

You lean in even closer, reaching your hands up to his wrists and wrapping your fingers around them, trying to pry his hands off his face to get a better look at his flushed cheeks. You manage to get them off, holding them near his cheeks.

"Embarrassed, are we?"

Arataka's eyes are wide with fear as he stares at you, his breathing quick and shallow, his face redder than the colour itself. Your eyes fall down to his lips, and his cheeks seem to flush even more, impossible as it is.

His mind is still reeling from the clumsy kiss from the night before — you'd tasted just like the cola you'd drank, your lips cold from the ice and your hands cooling on his hot skin. It felt so... Good, but, god...

Steam almost spouts from his ears as his mind overheats. His expression is overwhelmed as he stares at you with the reddest face you've ever seen on someone, his mouth slightly agape.

Arataka clears his throat, casting his gaze to the side as he struggles to get his hands out of your grasp. You let one hand go, bringing the other into both your hands and beginning to fidget with the fingers.

"Don't... Tell anyone, please," he almost begs in a whisper, his breathing growing shallow as you run a hand up and down his arm, fidgeting with him — bored with nothing to do with your hands. He likes when you touch him. He likes your warm, warm hands on his skin. He likes how you're so comfortable with just... Fidgeting with him like some toy.

Don't stop, please.

"Aww, okay," you say in disappointment, cracking each of Arataka's knuckles with a satisfying 'click!'. He lets you, watching as your hands move from one finger to another, almost mesmerized.

He lets out a sigh of relief at your words, just as you take his other hand and beginning to crack the knuckles on that one, too.

Though he won't ever admit it to you, he likes it. He likes how you handle him just like a little girl with a new doll, he likes how you so lovingly press your lips to his knuckles, he likes how gentle your fingers are as you run them across his cheeks and over his features — it makes his mind go haywire and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He likes you. He likes you a lot, a lot more than he thinks he does.

You let go off his hands, getting up and off the bed. You stretch, your back popping.

"Hey, Arataka," you ask, your gaze growing worried. You reach a hand out to smooth his golden hair down, trying to make it neater — you're aware of the horrible hangover he's probably having right now.

He hums in response, closing his eyes in contentment.

"I'll go get you some painkillers for your hangover, yeah? Make you some soup and toasted bread?"

He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, a low, contented hum vibrating his chest. His eyes are closed tightly, and he startles when you remove your hands and he loses your touch, his eyes snapping open.

"Oh, u-uh, what? Yes, alright, mm-hmm, okay!" Arataka says quickly, embarrassed.

When you get there, Arataka is waiting for you, his cheeks flushing when he sees you again. Every time he lays eyes upon you, the events of last night come rushing up to him...

You prepare his food quickly — it's just a cup of warm tea and a can of boxed soup. You toast some buttered bread as the water boils, and when it's done, you bring the bowl of soup, the plate of toast, and the cup of tea to the bedside table.

He takes the bowl and toast, dipping the bread and biting a piece off with a loud 'crunch!" and swallowing loud enough to get you to know that he's enjoying it. You watch him; you'd prepared a simple breakfast of your favourite flavoured spread on plain, untoasted bread for yourself, and you munch on it as Arataka downs the tea greedily, chugging the soup and stuffing the bread down his throat.

He loves you, he supposes, though he's never loved someone before.

You'd made something for him. You, who's always kind and understanding with him; you, who always jokes with him; you, who he loves with all his heart, had made something for him, no matter how small. Him, Arataka, of all people, was the one you chose to love.

He can't even begin to explain just how much he appreciates you — his words would become nothing more than a mumbly jumble, his manners dissolving into a flustered mess.

"Anything else I can get you?" You offer politely and so, so lovingly, just as Arataka is swallowing the painkillers.

He grins.

"You can get me a kiss, but I—"

You cut him off before he gets to finish, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you. He's taken aback by your directness, his eyes going wide and his body stiffening — though it's not long before he's returning the kiss, closing his eyes tightly and leaning into it.

Pressing your lips gently to his, you run a careful hand through his hair, caressing his cheek with a loving touch. You can feel the crumbs of the toast and the warm taste of the tea and soup on his lips.

He tastes... Comforting, you suppose. A familiar flavour, that scent of the mouth of someone who's just woken up, the warm taste of freshly toasted bread, the salty flavour of the powdered soup. He tastes nice.

You're careful not to make the kiss last too long, in case he loses his breath; and you're taking care to make sure your touch isn't too painful on his head, lest his headache return.

When you break the kiss, Arataka is nothing more than a mess of mumbly words and flushed cheeks, his hands shaky and his eyes wide. He's so, so cute, in the way that he'd struggle to form proper sentences, the manner in which he'd clumsily try to keep you close.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, those familiar butterflies in his stomach making his head spin and his vision swim. You kissed him again, you kissed him again! Oh, god, you kissed him...

Arataka gives you lopsided grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm like he'd just eaten.

"That will suffice," he says with utmost confidence.

Just in case, of course, you kiss him again. He seems to be getting the hang of it — he tilts his head to press his lips more onto yours, keeps a hand to the back of your head to elongate the kiss, runs a hand up and down your spine.

When you break the kiss, you wrap your arms tightly around him, squeezing his ribcage so hard it elicits an absolutely adorable yelp of surprise from him, followed by rushed words to loosen your grip.

You're laying on top of him as you crush his torso under yours, your head resting below his shoulder.

You've noticed he's gotten a lot more confident: he can form proper sentences and talk without mumbling, his movements aren't as shaky and uncontrollable, and his kisses are getting better with each time he practices on you.

Arataka wraps his arms around you as you get settled on him, resting his chin on the top of your head. You're so... Comforting, so warm and soft... You're nice to have in his arms, and he finds himself adjusting you do that you're as pressed up against him as he can possibly get it.

You can hear his gentle snoring after ten minutes or so. You wake him up, saying you're going to go shower for a moment as you slip out of his groggy grasp.

You shower as quickly as you can, changing into your most comfortable pair of home clothes. The soft cotton hands loosely off your frame when you enter your bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as you bundle your dirty clothes and throw it into the laundry basket.

Your eyes fall to Arataka as he stares at you.

"Uh, right, I... Got this. Here."

You rummage through your cupboards. It's only a moment later when you take out a pair of folded clothes, slowly placing it next to where Arataka sits comfortably in your bed, lounging like he belongs there. Which he doesn't does, of course.

"These should... These should fit you," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.

He likes it. He likes you. He loves you.

Arataka, too, showers, though he takes a lot longer. He's wearing your clothes (not that he has a choice, but not that he minds), and, god, he... He loves the fact that what he's wearing now, you've worn before — the cotton of the shirt worn from years of usage, the pants you lended him warm against his skin — and it smells just like you; a warm, soft scent as he slips the clothing on, feeling the old threads cascading down from his shoulders and hanging loosely around his frame.

He finds it... Cozy, and... And sweet, the smell of the laundry detergent and that warmness of the sun. It's so, very, very... Comforting? It's comforting, to him.

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

You're scrolling on your phone when he asks you that question, and you switch it off. Seeing Arataka wearing your clothes makes you feel... Nice. He doesn't seem to be arguing about it, at least.

You shrug, a thin smile on your face.

"Must be weird, huh? Finally getting a girl after being single your whole life?"

You narrow your eyes at him as he sputters, your grin widening as his cheeks flush.

He presses a hand tightly to his mouth, gripping the doorframe as his knees almost seem to buckle. The red from his cheeks is visible even through his fingers.

"You're going— to KILL me," he chokes out, his tone laced with embarrassment.

"AND, FOR THE RECORD—!"

Arataka jabs an accusing finger in your face, and you watch on, amused, as he talks in such a panicked tone that you find it hard to understand more than the first few words. He's shouting, yelling.

"ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS AREN'T EVERTHING IN LIFE! TO NOT HAVE A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IS THE SAME AS NOT HAVING A GOOD MEAL! YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT IT JUST FINE, BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU HAD ONE!"

He scoffs in disappointment, crossing his arms, his tone almost annoyed — though that undertone of endearment is definitely there.

"I'm surprised you haven't learnt anything from working under me."

You roll your eyes.

"You can just say you're bitter about being single. It won't hurt you."

Arataka sputters again, opening his mouth to argue — but closes it quickly, realising that he's just making himself look worse. Instead, he crosses his arms tightly and grumbles, which an adorable display despite his agitation.

You grin, getting up and off the bed to ruffle his hair. He pushes your hand off, annoyance written on his face.

[lonesomedotmp3]

when riverdale comes back I plan to singlehandedly make this website unusable for all non-fans and you can hold me to that.

[eidolons-stuff]

Enid: "Hey Wednesday, did you know that it's physically impossible to lick you own elbow?" *attempts to do it*

Wednesday: *deadpan* "Did you know that horned lizards squirt blood from their eyes?"

Enid: *pauses, still trying to lick her elbow, staring at wednesday in what the fuckery*

[aestheticbasicicons]

[6ebe]

[brucedinsman]

ABF Wednesday Night - Join us

5/29/24 7:30 PM Chalan Pago Guam USA Bible study We are again broadcasting live, our services will be on our Facebook and webpage.   see our FACEBOOK for previous services and messages #GIVETHANKS #Outreach: That the world may know #Prayer Focus: Pray for Our Prodigals #Praise the Lord Please follow my blog  Guam Christian Blog Please follow my blog Guam Views Blog Podcast:…

[zwod]

Sunshine and shadows (also gay)

[isabelle-bt]

Painting a Goddess

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

Hi Maven!! Same q to everyone this week: what are your top 3 wincest episodes, and why?

ok im gonna cheat and do this in 2 ways hehe

a) top 3 sam/dean episodes

3. A Very Supernatural Christmas: has the samulet (their engagement ring, obviously!), you can palpably feel the isolation, the neglect, it's very two-children-in-a-motel-esque. and of course, the final scene, where i think, if there was any point in the series aside from the barn scene in which they would have said "i love you," it would have been there. the deep long stare, the watery eyes, the fact that they both know dean will be gone within the year, and then... "do you feel like watching the game?" ahhhhhhh drives me nuts

2. Swan Song: their love literally!!!!! saves the world, i mean come on. it has the whole wincest montage that you could literally set a richard siken poem to, or a taylor swift song to (look i know those are vastly different things but. bear with me), and it would just feel right. dean finally lets sam do things on his own. he lives because sam tells him to. sam manages to revoke his possession consent because of how much he's in love with dean, even as his fist is smashing dean's face into a pulp. ok i have to stop or i'm going to start crying in this goddamn airport.

Playthings: obviously. gothic horror episode of all time. picture-perfect family in the outside, secret sibling hidden upstairs. the way sam and dean's codependency is paired with that of the grandmother and her ghostly sister. the face-stroking. the almost kiss. god i swear it always looks like they're gonna kiss. sam writhing on the bed. dean staring at him like that. the subtext was about to bust through the screen, what with the acting and the way the plot and the meta-plot fit together perfectly. catherine tosenberger said it much better than i can, go read her article in TWC about wincest if you haven't!

b) top 3 family-horror-what-the-incestuous-freudian-fuck-is-going-on-here episodes

2. Devil's Trap: azazel uses john's body in a sexual manner against both sam and dean--primarily the latter but sam gets it, too. it's a chilling scene and really cements that this is what spn is about: never being able to escape the family. sam learns partly of azazel's plot, dean gets his daddy issues flayed onto him, and all through the eyes of the father. it's so well done.

3. Skin: imo the most damning thing the shifter says is, "i will be sorry to lose this skin. your brother's got a lot of great qualities. you should appreciate him more than you do." uh...what? the way he ties up sam and plans on torturing him also aligns with the shifter's pattern of turning into the husband and beating up the wife. another HMM moment actually comes from dean himself, when he tells sam that none of his friends will ever understand him and that dean's the only one who can...it's very isolating, kind of abuser tactics, and just. whew. this was episode SIX!!

In the Beginning: come on you knew i was gonna say this. aside from the obvious moments of "mom is a babe" (and remember, dean invokes sam into this moment as well..."sammy, wherever you are..."), samuel!azazel leaning over dean and smelling him, and samuel!azazel kissing mary--passionately returned(?), may i add, the plot itself sets up the winchester family as this enclosed, inbred unit. mary's kiss with her possessed father seal's sam's fate as part of azazel's army. the sexuality she shares with her father makes her son's blood diseased and cursed. the family line is tainted by incest. her kiss is what allows sam and dean to grow up that way, to become so codependent, what allows the moments of avsc, swan song, and playthings to happen! in the beginning. this begins the cycle of selling and saving souls--mary for john, john for dean, dean for sam. it's literally THEE spn episode, perhaps even more than playthings. even though sam's barely in it, his fate hangs over the whole episode, and this is full house of wincest at its finest.