#A Raft in the Storm

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

after six hundred strike

*odysseus and poseidon are both still on the rocks in the middle of the sea*

odysseus: ok, let's just agree to both say we're sorry

odysseus: on the count of three

odysseus: one..two..three

poseidon:

odysseus:

odysseus: see, now i'm just disappointed in the both of us

[notesonfilm1]

Thinking Aloud About Film: He Never Gives Up (Li Hsing, Taiwan, 1978)

We continue our discussion of the GOLDEN DECADES: CINEMATIC MASTERS OF THE GOLDEN HORSE AWARDS with a chat on He Never Gives Up (LI Hsing, Taiwan, 1979). Li won the Golden Horse Award for Best Director for his films Beautiful Duckling (1965), Execution in Autumn (1972), and He Never Gives Up (1978) setting a record in Taiwan’s film history that remains unbroken, marking the pinnacle of Li Hsing’s…

[st-hedge]

It feels insane that totk didn’t even try to do a take on loftwings. There are sky islands, there is a race of people which allegedly lived in the sky, there are dragons who we can now ride, there are tools which can be used to traverse the entire sky, we’ve seen what’s beyond the cloud barrier, and fans clearly adore having a pet like the horses. And yet no

[hopeforchanges]

if you've never read the Silmarilion, you are depriving yourself of a major old school reality tv vibes in the vain of Big Brother. Tolkien really was the G, because if you think that the Greek gods have something on Tolkien's Valar, i'm here to tell you they're not even playing in the same league. not even in the same universe.

oh? you think Zeus is detached? Poseidon is kind of a dick and Hades just could not give less of a fuck about his dysfunctional family?

what if i told you that once upon a time there was a guy who was a big asshole and who rallied his entire race to go to war cause one other guy who was also even somehow bigger of an asshole (let's call him huge asshole) stole his shiny rocks? and the Valar did a total of fuck all to stop him from leading an entire race of people they essentially helped create and lived with in harmony to slaughter.

remember that huge asshole who stole the big's asshole shiny rocks? well he also happened to terrorize an entire continent with countless lives for centuries, meanwhile the Valar largely stay out of the conflict even though the huge asshole was technically their family and therefore their problem. Despite the pleas of the people, they remained indifferent, chillin' in the west five feet apart cause they're not gay, watching an absolute carnage unfold for several long centuries. It took several more hundreds of years and devastating battles before one guy with a backbone finally said 'had enough of this shit' and sailed to their West California/Malibu hangout to tell 'em they should get their fucking asses up and work.

so the Valar eventually are like 'jesus, okay' and stop the huge asshole but if you think that they were going to send sanitation or stimulus checks to the people who were left behind and broken by the war they did not care about to stop earlier even though they were the only ones who could, you have another thing coming cause they peace out and everyone else who cannot afford to go to their West California/Malibu hangout because they are not privileged enough or don't have the right background to go there and heal can fuck off and die.

then you might think, well, the huge asshole was defeated so now at least there should be peace and quiet for a while in the house, no? fucking no because it turned out the huge asshole polled really well in the demographic of young men and one of those young men decided to take up the huge asshole's mantle and make middle-earth great again or some shit. except his own crowd runs him out of town cause he is one of those people who think they can swing but they're actually just meow meows with anger issues and a staggering lack of self-awareness who really need to get laid. (on that later)

so the young man decides to go on vacation to an island that was basically created by the Valar as the paradise for those who helped defeat the huge asshole and he realizes he really likes this island full of assholes cause that's kind of the crowd he vibes with. and slowly but surely he comes to the conclusion that not only is the island full of assholes, it's full of the dumbest motherfuckers he has ever met in his life. he gets them to build worships and temples and statues to celebrate the huge asshole guy who died on the basis of their general huge asshole-ness they have in common with him. still, the Valar do nothing as the young man corrupts this island full of dumbasses and enslaves them to his will. they only intervene when the young man rallies them to band together and attack the West California/Malibu hangout. Which ends in complete destruction of the paradise island and a complete shift of the map of the world and the trajectory of its free peoples.

and this whole tangent is basically me reminding myself that yes, Hope, you can write an outlandish new chapter where absolute crazy batshit things happen to people who do not deserve it and have the Valar ignore it completely, because that is what they do.

they are trolling. they don't intervene when entire populations are destroyed, but when they randomly see the young man and an elf vibing on a shitty raft, Poseidon's Valar equivalent Ulmo gathers the clouds and tells his little helper Ossë who is responsible for storms and waves:

.... you know what would be really fucking hilarious ....

[temiree]

This sketch was requested in my Patreon's suggestion box by Backlash, who's prompt was, "My two characters Zak and Kira on a river raft in the middle of a bad storm." I assume this was unplanned, so I thought it was suitable to give them panicked expression. I also framed this like a movie/storyboard. :3

[edwardseymour]

I just wanna say , your Anne x Jane posts are making me insane in the best possible way .May i ask you where did you get the idea of the two of them together .ALSO ,i know from your other blog you watched Hotd ,so ..Rhaenicent as Anne/Jane?

thank you!!! 💚 but i don’t think i was the first to think of the ship, i’m sure i remember it in ye olde days of fandom. but i love the ‘you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand’ vibes of jane having a hand in anne's downfall & anne's being the sacrificial bloodletting for jane’s rise. anne's (and therefore any successor of hers) position was vulnerable & jane was the one actively ensuring that it’s vulnerable. and that instability — pitting two women against each other in an ideological and political way like that, versus the patriarchal system that they both struggle against — has rhaenicent vibes x

(so does the condescension and moral judgement and shaking angry chihuahua vibes)

[gallavichsreddie1128]

I’m Sorry (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Rafe didn’t tell the Pogues that Y/N (his wife and their ex best friend) (and JJ’s ex) would be on this trip to get the crown with them.

Word Count: 2,558

Rafe didn’t tell the pogues that his wife, their ex best friend, would be on the boat. JJ and her dated for a while but things didn’t work out and she ended up in the arms of Rafe Cameron.

The pogues disowned her after they found out that she was dating him. She was heartbroken and Rafe put her heart back together. She was with him while he stirred the boat. The others outside the door talking about them.

She knew that they didn’t trust Rafe and they probably didn't trust her. She didn’t blame them but she had hoped that this would make them see that they could trust them, mostly her. “Rafe, Y/N.” John B said the couple’s names.

They both turned to look at the group that was by the door. “Hey guys.” Y/N said but her voice was quiet. She hadn’t talked to them in so long and to hear her name fall from his lips was crazy. “We just want peace.” That would have been simple until JJ decided to punch him.

Y/N felt rage through her body at him doing that. Almost like JJ had always wanted to do that, probably has. “REALLY?” Y/N yelled at him. “I don’t trust him, none of us do. Not sure if we even trust you.” He said. That had hurt her a lot.

She wasn’t the reason their relationship ended, it was him. Rafe fixed her and sure he wasn’t the best guy but it was enough for her. “I’m not the one who fucked you over JJ, you fucked over me.” Y/N said. 

Y/N waited for Rafe to wake up. It was a battle but she convinced them not to tie him up. She had food and pain killers waiting for him. He woke a few hours after the incident and looked around, “Hey babe. I brought you some food and painkillers.” Y/N told him.

He was pissed and wanted them off the boat after that but again Y/N had to convince him not too. “He punched me. Let’s not pretend that this is just about me not being trustworthy.” Rafe said to her as they ate. Y/N raised her eyebrows.

He was probably right. “Yeah well that was 3 years ago, Rafe.” She was over it and was even ready to forgive him but JJ didn’t feel the same. Maybe JJ was still in love with her after all. 

The boat started to rock like crazy causing them to get up and see what was going on. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The boat was crashing into the water and flooding. “Guys what’s going on?” She asked. “The storm.” Kie said. Y/N managed to make her way to where John B was.

JJ and Sarah are also there. It was bad, so bad to the point that Y/N ended up in the water. “Y/N.” JJ yelled and grabbed a raft and threw it in the water. “I’m coming.” He yelled and jumped in the water after her.

Rafe got there just in time to see them get covered by a big wave. He screamed his wife’s name and Sarah managed to hold him back so they didn’t lose more people. 

Rafe was crying and freaking out. The others had hope that they would turn up but Rafe had lost too much. They all felt bad and guilty that they treated them like that and realized that they aren’t bad people. Y/N never was and she might be dead. Sarah couldn’t help but cry.

Maybe it was the guilt or the sadness but she was crying so hard. Rafe was thinking about it so much. His wife was most likely dead and JJ jumped in after her. If they were alive he couldn’t even be mad about it. What if JJ had saved her life but what if she realized that she still loved him?

Rafe was deep in thought that he didn’t realize John B looking out in the distance at two people. “Guys.” Everyone looked over at the two people walking towards them. Rafe jumped up and ran to them. As he got closer he saw his wife and he laughed in relief.

She saw him and ran to him as well until they collapsed on the ground in a hug. Both of them were crying and saying that they love one another. JJ watched as the couple kissed and laughed in relief. He saved her life and though she was thankful, she was not going to leave rafe for him. 

“I saved her life.” JJ tells the others as they all sit around the fire. “And I am thankful for that JJ.” She said to him. He couldn’t meet her eyes, why was it that he thought she would love him all over again now? “Thanks for saving her.” Rafe said to him.

Everyone was shocked by that but also it made sense. Y/N was his wife after all.  Rafe wanted to be mad and yell at him but he couldn’t. She might not be alive if it wasn’t for him. But the thought of JJ and her together sickened him. Rafe wasn’t an idiot and saw right through JJ.

He knew that JJ was hoping for her to love him again and that’s what scared him. What broke him out of his thoughts was her yawning in his arms. “Well, I’m tired. Goodnight guys.” She said. Rafe followed her to where she was sleeping and laid down next to her. He pulled her body right up against his and he felt her snuggle up against him.   

Hearing that Sarah was pregnant actually made Y/N happy. She knew that John B and Sarah would be good parents and she was very excited for them. Rafe and her wanted kids but Rafe was scared. He never wanted to treat his kids the way he was treated.

Sure he loved his dad but it wasn’t a hidden fact that he wasn’t the greatest dad. But Rafe had no reaction to hearing that Sarah was pregnant. Y/N wanted to ask him about it but they really had no time. When Rafe almost got arrested for something the others did, it slipped her mind.

And Rafe had a lot of questions for her when they were walking around. “Did he try anything after saving you?” He asked after buying them clothes. “No. We barely talked.” Which was true. She thanked him and even hugged him but besides that they didn’t talk. “Did he tell you that he was still in love with you?” She looked at him like he had three heads. She shook her head, “No because he isn’t.” Rafe wanted to argue that factor but instead asked another question.

“Do you feel anything for him after that?” “Rafe, what?” She asked. “He saved your life and did something I couldn’t.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. Whether he was going to admit it or not she knew that was his worst fear. “Rafe, I can assure you I don’t love him. I love you.” She tells him.

Before he could respond he notices someone and pulls Y/N with him up against the wall. The people were talking about Groff. They listened and figured that he was close by. 

Rafe didn’t wanna leave her alone so he bought her a four wheeler and told her once he has Groff to speed off with them. She nods and waits for her man as he kicks some ass and gets Groff. Before Groff could say anything to her they drove off. She followed Rafe to wherever it was that he was headed.

She got off the four wheeler and Rafe immediately started to question Groff. Groff didn’t even get to say anything to Y/N with how Rafe was questioning him. Groff didn’t have the money anymore but he had the map to the treasure. Y/N gasped when they started fighting and Rafe took those things from him.

The Pendant was beautiful. Y/N couldn’t wait to wear it but that slipped her mind as Rafe pushed him in the well. “HAHA CHECKMATE BITCH.” Y/N bit her lip, finding that hot but knew it wasn’t the right time. He handed her the pendant and she put it on. “It looks beautiful on you.” He winks at her. She smiled at him and he looked at the map. They had a long way to go. 

“You know it was really hot when you pushed Groff into that well.” She said to him. He looked over at her and smirked, “My wife is a freak.” She laughed at him and shook her head, “Anything you do I find hot, Rafe.” He looked back at the map as they walked.

“Yeah well I would love to fuck you right now after hearing that but we gotta get our money first.” She sighed. It was truly unfortunate that they couldn’t. “Give me the pendant.” He says and she takes it off and hands it to him.

He tries to read the map with it but gets frustrated. “Here.” She said and took the necklace from him. She used to do this treasure hunting stuff with the pogues all the time. He smiled as he watched her figure it out. 

Rafe, who had the map in his hand, held up his hands as they were held at gunpoint. Y/N also held up her hands and looked at her husband, nervously. “Let her go she has nothing to do with this.” Rafe tries but they don’t care. “Drop the map.” Rafe nods and announces that he’s doing it slowly.

Y/N couldn’t look anywhere but her husband, missing her old friends ready to shoot the guys holding them hostage. It was in a flash of a second that Sarah shot at them and Rafe took Y/N’s hand and they ran. The pogues followed them. Rafe picked Y/N up and ran faster. She told him to wait as she saw the pogues but he didn’t listen until they barged through the door. “Next time we’ll let you get shot.” Kie tells him but Y/N thanks her. He sets Y/N down but still has the map. “Groff didn’t have the money.” She says to the others.

“Hand over the map.” Y/N looks at Rafe knowing he wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Rafe, baby give them it. They know what they are doing.” He looks at her, “You also know.” While that was true this was their fight now. “Dad would want us to work together.” Rafe was about to break. He believed that Sarah killed him. Y/N didn’t. “Rafe, they are willing to work together.” Y/N tries but he yells at Sarah saying that he couldn’t trust her because of Ward. “Dad died saving me. I was gonna die.” Y/N felt tears in her own eyes. “You’re so quick to blame me for everything.” That was true. “You’re gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life has besides Y/N. She’s the only one keeping me going. You’ll ruin that. He’s trying to ruin that.” Rafe pointed at JJ.

JJ stayed silent as Sarah talked to him, “I’m all you have.” “Baby look at me. She’s telling the truth. I know them baby, they aren’t bad people. Nothing will ever come between us.” Her heart broke at the sight of him crying. “We’ll still get our cut?” Rafe asked Sarah. “Yes.” He goes to hand her the map but she pushes it away and she hugs him. Y/n smiled at the sight and rubbed his back as he tried to hold back tears. 

“Hun, I’m going down there to stop them.” “No.” “Rafe, they are killers.” Kie said to him. He looks at the two of them. “I’m a killer too.” He says and if he said that at any other point, she would have been so turned on but right now they were on a mission. Kie and Y/N couldn’t really see JJ but kept telling him to hurry up. He was trying but he was going to find it no matter what.

Y/N kept looking behind her hoping to see Rafe but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose him and this was making her think she would. “JJ we have to go.” Kie yelled at him. He was reaching into the eye of the sand statue and it looked like he pulled something out but she couldn’t be so sure.

The sand was everywhere. She heard yelling and cheering from him and smiled to herself. He got the crown. A few minutes later he showed them the crown and they all hugged. It was a nice feeling, one that she missed. They ran down to get the others and Y/N’s mind was on her husband. She had to make sure he was okay.

She yelled his name as she looked for him but gasped as she saw Groff. She hid so he couldn’t see her and he grabbed Kie. Y/N had to cover her mouth. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hurt her but of course he was willing to trade her for the crown. They were so close.

Y/N watched as the trade was made and sighed in relief. She was glad her friends were okay. Sure she wanted the money back but their lives were and always will be more important. She turned to go find Rafe but heard Kie gasping. Y/N turned around and her eyes widened, her heart dropped and her soul left her body. Groff had stabbed JJ.

She didn’t care anymore and ran over to him as Groff ran off. She thought about chasing him but didn’t want to get killed. “JJ.” She cried and he looked at her. For once since they reunited he looked at her and he didn’t look mad. Kie and her helped him to the ground.

“You’re gonna be okay. We will get you out of here.” Kie said. JJ gave them a smile, “It’s okay.” “JJ we can get you help.” Y/N tells him. He looks over at her, “Y/N I’m sorry that I messed up with you and never gave you what you deserved.” “JJ I don’t care about that stuff.” He could barely get out words but he had to tell her, “Kie I never told you my wish.” Kie was crying.

“JJ it’s okay…” “I have everything I could ever wish for right now.” He holds both of their hands. “My best friend.” He looks at Kie. “And the woman I’ll always love.” He looks at Y/N. Y/N starts crying harder. “I love you both.”  He said and his grip on their hands weakened. He was dead.

The others started showing up and everyone was crying. Rafe showed up and saw Y/N put JJ’s hand in his lap. He couldn’t even feel relief about this, nothing about it was. He wasn’t jealous or mad cuz for once he knew that she was his and that no matter what they were together.

He got on the ground with her. “Hey.” He said and she collapsed in his lap crying for her friend. “It’s okay baby. I understand and I promise you we will avenge him.” He whispered to her. One thing she learned about being married to Rafe Cameron was that he kept his word. Especially on Revenge. 

[emiqip]

apocalyptic ponyo au!! ft. shockweaves little menaces. @keferon

One week had passed since Skids saw the ocean swallow their city whole. 

It happened during one of those lazy days in the Dead End: with the cold season drawing near, few people roamed the dirty narrow alleys, more preoccupied scavenging for a place to settle down and spend the winter. He and his sort-of-not-really-adopted bunch of siblings had the luck to find an old gazebo made of sheets of rusted metal, basically a five star abode especially when your main concerns where a) not getting pissed on by the sky and b) find an actual place able to hold ten scruffy kids.

And even with nothing, life was good- or as good as it can get. Not having to fend and fight on the streets for yourself, having someone to bicker and argue with for the stupidest little things but still knowing everyone will have your back until the very end. The nights spent huddled together for warmth while Thundercracker, being the only one who knew how to read, dramatically re-enacting the scenes from a fairy-tale book and when storms so loud the walls of their shelter shook hit the city, you could pick out the soft humming of Damus, lulling the younger kids back to sleep. 

Yeah, life wasn't anywhere near perfect but it was enough.

But now...

The partially sunken landscape could suck all hope from one's soul. The once lively and bustling city was now a wet husk of rubble and toppled buildings. Abandoned vehicles and all sorts of trash floated on the surface, littering the water for miles. He was honestly impressed at how fast it all went down- them barely making it out only thanks to their shitty shelter, that served as a make-shift raft until they eventually reached a patch of dry concrete.

They've been walking for a few hours now, trudging between shallow water and debris, never daring to test their luck and trying to swim- they all got a taste of what lurked in the deepest parts during their little trip on their rackety raft and came to a general consensus to give those areas a very wide berth and not risk their lives more than they were already.

With a last distrustful look aimed at the water, he re-adjusted the heavy weight of the shotgun strapped on his right shoulder and walked away from shore, joining the others at their new alcove. 

 \\\

Finding a place to truly call their main base of operation was surprisingly easy- the mess of destroyed and eroded buildings that titanic wave left behind made for a pretty cushy place if you ignored the smell of seaweed and moist drywall. 

They were separated from the main patch of dry land and the chance of encountering any survivors was nearly slim to none- not that he was complaining or anything, less the possibility of meeting any hostile adults and being stripped of what little resources they had. From the wrecked remains of the city they managed to find quite a few useful things, but sadly not enough for ten kids. The food was especially low, the only way was fishing and catching it themselves but they had already established it as a big fat No. 

As the evening was slowly closing in, everyone was working to start their nightly routine. The oldest kids were in charge of the fire, which usually entailed watching TC read the partially wet copy of "Little Survivalist" to a very much not interested Trailbreaker and Windcharger. At the mouth of their shelter Soundwave was meticulously arranging their sleeping mats, while Skywarp sorted their blankets. Skids was chosen to stand guard today and soon after Damus would join him to keep watch on the others while they slept. 

Main while Bluestreak and the twins where- uhm. Where were they actually?

"Yo, 'Warp! Have you seen the little goblins?" Skids approached the teen, still intent in choosing the softest blanket for himself- aft. 

"Ah-what? Uhh, i think they wanted to explore the area but it wasn't my turn babysitting them so..." The other shrugged, returning to his task. 

"I swear if they come back with another mutated crab I'm going to lose it." 

"Naaw, everyone loved Bob, why do you have to be such a grump?"

"Well, if 'Bob' had the courtesy to try and not pinch me while I was slee-" 

A shrill scream broke their conversation. 

In a second all of them were at their feet or reaching for their nearest weapon as they watched the small shapes of the twins quickly getting closer. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were sprinting towards them at full speed, and when they arrived they almost toppled Skids over, while still screaming and shouting frenetically. 

Witnessing this, Damus came swiftly forward to try and assess the situation. 

"C'mon guys, deep breaths- what's going on?" The oldest tried to sooth. 

"BLUE IS DEAD! THAT THING GOT HIM AND IT'S MY FAULT" Sideswipe screeched snatching both of Damus sleeves like a lifeline. 

"Whoa- hey 'Sides-" 

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! But me and Sunny wanted to take a closer look- But turns out it was napping! And we tried to run but Blue fell and he hurt himself and that thing sNATCH HIM UP!! HE'S DEAD AND- AND IT'S MY FAULT!!"

After that the thirteen year old broke into a storm of unconsolable blubbering sobs- they all looked at each other in the eyes: 'Sides and Sunny were known for two things, being unsufferable little shits and that they never cried. Even when sad or scared they were used to put on their brave faces and endure like how they were taught. 

So a crying or upset twin meant trouble. 

Damus, understanding this quickly shifted his behavior and started barking orders to the others: he, Trailbreaker and Skids would go and find Blue the rest were to remain at the shelter and prepare in case they needed to flee as fast as possible. 

With that they braced their weapons and ran into the direction the twins came. 

\\\

He felt his heart beating in his throat as they ran towards whatever had attacked the youngest children. He couldn't help but picture small innocent Blue, laying on the shore motionless, a pool of blood beneath him- NO! Blue was okay! He had to be! And they were going to make sure of that. No one was keeping him from getting his littlest brother to safety. 

When they reached the shore, the smell of blood didn't greet them like they were all secretly dreading- but something else did. 

Something much, much worse. 

Bluestreak had always been a talkative little bugger- one of his siblings would sometimes even catch him talking to himself or inanimate objects when none of them were around. He always held conversations all by himself, jumping from topic to topic without catching a breath. 

However Blue wasn't really the type of kid to talk to strangers without getting shy and ducking behind one of the others for safety. 

Apparently, following little Blue logic- GIANT FISHMEN don't count as strangers.

"...and so I thought it would be cool, you know? but then 'Sides told me that I would get worms but I don't mind worms! They can be cute if you aren't a little baby who gets scared of everything and TC reads to me a lot so I know I won't get worms but I'm still very careful you never know..." The young boy happily ranted away as he sat snugly under the fish- man? argh! The mermaids giant flippers. 

The huge being wasn't bother at all by the little morsel chatting away at him- on the contrary, it looked fond of Blue as he let the kid talk. Skids almost pulled the trigger as he looked as the fishman slightly moved his massive head to nuzzle Blue in a show of complete affection. (if Skids strained his ears he could almost hear the soft vibrations the giant fish was producing) 

Only then, as he was giggling like mad, did Bluestreak notice them as he lifted his left hand and waved frantically at them. 

"HI GUYS!! LOOK WHO I FOUND!! SAY HI TO SIR. PANCAKE!!" 

He felt Trailbraker sagging beside him as his weapon almost slipped from his grip. 

"...what the actual fuck."

///

pt.2 :P

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Saving Jacaerys during the battle of the gullet? I am not ready for this moment

Who else is not ready for this? I have not read the book, but I know it will be a sad day

Warnings: mention of injuries, death of a dragon,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Arrows were being shot by the fleet of the Triarchy and Jacaerys was making a big mistake making Vermax fly too low, but you were too high in the sky for him to hear your warning. 

Time seemed to slow as the inevitable happened: a crossbow bolt struck Vermax in the eye. The dragon let out a pained roar, spiraling uncontrollably before crashing into the sea below. The sight tore at your heart, but there was no time for hesitation.

Wasting no time, you commanded your dragon to go down, diving swiftly and weaving through the storm of arrows with remarkable agility. The salty sea air stung your face as you descended, your mind racing with fear and determination.

The chances that Jacaerys survived such a fall was slim, but you had to know for sure. You had to see for yourself.

As you neared the water, you could see the wreckage of Vermax in the churning waves. His green scales and the red of his wings. A tear fell from your eye. 

Please be alive. Please be alive.

Tearing your gaze from Vermax's lifeless form, you scanned the chaotic waters and the fires spreading across the wreckage. Suddenly, a splash of movement caught your eye. Jacaerys had managed to leap free and was now clinging desperately to a piece of wood from a shattered ship. Relief surged through you, mentally thanking the gods. 

You turned in his direction, but before you could get to him, an arrow sliced through the air, striking Jacaerys in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, his grip on the makeshift raft faltering as the arrow pierced his flesh.

‘’Dracarys!’’ you commanded, fury fueling your voice. 

Your dragon responded instantly, unleashing a torrent of fire upon the ship from which the arrow had been fired. The flames consumed the attackers, their screams lost in the roar of the blaze. Satisfaction filled your blood. Hurt the ones you love, and taste the revenge of the dragon. 

You called Jacaerys’ name and he looked up, his face pale with pain and exhaustion. He had a cut on his face and his shoulder was bleeding from the arrow, which was still in his shoulder. 

For a moment, relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as a wave crashed over him. He tried to hoist himself back onto the piece of debris but winced as a jolt of pain flared up his arm. His fingers slipped, wet from saltwater, and he fell back into the cold water, gasping for breath as he resurfaced.

Carefully, your dragon hovered just above the surface, and you reached out a hand, tightly holding the handle of your saddle with your other so you wouldn’t fall in the waters too. ‘’Take my hand!’’

With a grimace, Jacaerys stretched out his good arm, and you pulled him up with all your strength, straining against the weight of his soaked clothes and his own weakened state. He settled in the saddle behind you, safely. You felt him shivering behind you, the cold of the water and the blood loss clearly taking its toll. 

You needed to get back to Dragonstone quickly before cold would take him. You ascended into the air, wings beating heavily against the wind as you fled the scene, escaping the deadly range of the Triarchy's arrows. 

 ‘’You...you came for me,’’ Jacaerys said, his voice weak from the ordeal. 

‘’Of course I came for you,’’ you retorted, your voice a mix of concern and annoyance. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t come to your husband’s rescue?

Once you landed on Dragonstone, you called out for a maester. Jacaerys’ clothes had dried a little on the journey back, but he was still cold…and bleeding. You asked the servants to fetch him dry clothes and followed Maester Gerardys, who took care of Jacaerys’ wounds. He carefully removed the arrow out and stitched the wound, stopping the bleeding. By the look of pain on Jacaerys’ face, it must not have been pleasant. 

The fire in the hearth crackled, slowly warming up the prince. His wet clothes were discarded on the floor and replaced by dry ones before settling into the chair by the fire, his silence deep and heavy, thinking back to everything that just happened.

You gently draped a blanket over his shoulders, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth. ‘’What were you thinking, flying so low?’’

Jacaerys looked down. His lack of battle training and knowledge was what got him into this situation. What caused Vermax's death. A tear rolled down his cheek but he wiped it away.

You sat on the second chair, still in your riding gear. ‘’You need to be more careful, Jace,’’ you scolded gently, concern lacing your words. ‘’You're not some invincible warrior. You're the Prince of Dragonstone, your mother’s heir. Your life is too important to risk like that.’’

Your words came from a good place, but Jacaerys wanted to scream. He was tired of hearing people saying his life was important. He wanted to be on the battlefield and come up with strategies, he wanted to do something to be part of this war. 

But hearing the discourse from you felt different. To you, his life was more important than any of his titles. 

Jacaerys sighed. ‘’I'm sorry,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pain and regret. ‘’I was just...I guess I was trying to prove myself. I don't want to be known as the prince who sat on Dragonstone and let others die fighting for his mother's throne.’’

You understood where he was coming from, but proving himself to others was not worth jeopardizing his life. 

‘’You don't need to prove yourself by being reckless and throw your life away. The Queen would not bear losing another child. I would not bear losing you.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry

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[knuppitalism-with-ue]

Oof, took some time to label these and touch up some rough spots. But here it is, the Mazon Creek #paleostream piece. This was, again, a piece that barely scratches the surface.

Mazon is a Carboniferous Lagerstätte and preserves hundreds of species, one could fill whole books with scenes like these. Biggest challenge was that we have two distinct faunas, the marine Essex biota and the terrestrial Braidwood biota. Some marine animals might be able to venture into freshwater but usually the two don't mix much so I had to find a way to transplant a piece of fauna into the other. We settled on a natural raft, the likes we still see today.

After storms or floods, mats of vegetation can drift out to sea and carry with them whole communities of organisms. On the other hand driftwood is often used by marine animals as shelter so from both sides we have reasons for animals to be here. As you can see in this size chart by Discord member JW, there is much more one could have added.

But I leave that part to YOU if you are inclined to pick up where I left off ;)

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Imagine being Posiedon.

You are sitting for 10 years, waiting to finish a fight with a punk sailor that you decimated most of the crew of because they blinded your son.

And you go for that extra level petty where you are waiting for him to be right by his home. Just so you can snatch that hope away from him.

Now ten years is nothing to you because you are a deity. And your entire domain is the ocean.

So imagine, you get word the punk is back on the seas. In a little raft made of twigs and leaves. You make a show of it. You tell him that there is no mercy and that you are here to run that fade one last time. And if he doesn’t… you will kill everyone. He’s begging for mercy. Trying to appeal.

But he ain’t getting it. This is

And just as you hit him with your named finisher.

This motherf***er not only survives, but utilizes the power of YOUR Storm to fly and hit you with a f***ing Limit break.

You got your ass beat in your domain. Now you decide to be petty. Cause f*** this guy in particular. Sure, he won. But you will heal, you can’t die, and that storm he used to fight back is now stopping him from getting home.

He tells you to call off the storm.

You tell him no. And he picks up your triton. You laugh cause that won’t kill you.

But when you look up and see his face… you realize. He was counting on that.

And it was for the first time in a long time you lament being immortal.

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

[titania-sleeps]

Wild Roses and Hawthorns (Sub!Bloodbag!Human!Yandere x Vampire!Reader)

hii i promise i didn't forget about adonis, he has TWO whole pieces in my drafts (i just need to be in a specific mood to pump out adonis fics)

in the meantime, here's the aftermath of dion getting the blood sucked tf out of him

spoilers: he wants more. :3

more works featuring Dion: Dion Introduction

warning: mild nsfw, dom reader, biting, asphyxiation (choking), messy feelings, minors DNI pls

A week has passed since you'd last lost your temper with your bloodbag. The look in his eyes never left your mind. The torrent waves of turmoil in his gaze had washed over you, and you were stricken with a sense of fear and... greedy desire. You had immediately fled after that, terrified by what he aroused in you.

Tonight, you lay still as a statue, staring into the ceiling. While you don't need sleep the same way that humans do, it calms you to rest when the sky is dark. It's habitual from your time training to melt into human society (as all vampirekin do for a few decades). However, dawn was nearing in a couple of hours and you've yet to get even a blink of rest.

Every time you close your eyes, even if for a moment, a flash of glistening sweat on caramel skin appears in your mind. Then the sensation of your teeth sinking their way into supple skin manifests in your mouth. The hair on the back of your neck stands and, if you were to look in the mirror at that very moment, what would reflect back is a lonely monster, craving for the flesh of the living.

You are not a common monster, that you know. You are a noble creature, born with veins of blue gold and armed with grace. Yet such a simple bite stirs a primal need in you, one that rivals that of a hungry beast. It borders on something that you'd hope to never experience, especially for your blood bag.

Maybe you need some clear water to reset your thoughts.

As you glide down the stairs to the kitchen, you bump into a shadowy figure. The figure steadies you, and a familiar scent enters your senses.

"...Dion."

The figure responds to your call, a grin on his lips.

"Are you here to indulge in a midnight snack, master?" The comment is teasing and almost enticing, and you know that the snack he is referring to doesn't exist in the kitchen.

Sighing, you push past him and walk to the counter to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. He follows you.

"Dion, why are you awake?" you ask, taking a sip of the water. Though you vastly prefer blood over water, as long as the water isn't tainted by any holiness, it suffices to quench your thirst.

Dion's eyes wander for a moment before he responds with a disarming smile. He shrugs, the collar of his shirt falling to the side to reveal his neck. Your eyes flit to it for just a second, and only a second.

"Maybe I was looking for someone," he replies. His vague response irks you, but you don't bother pressing him for more details. The more you know about him, the more you will feel for him. So it is easier to maintain the comfortable distance that you have with him.

You finish the last drop of water and place the cup in the sink. "I hope you find them," you say airily, giving him a lazy wave as you prepare to return to your room.

You're stopped by an encircling grip around your wrist.

You whip your head around and before you know it, you're chasing Dion out the door, down the hallway, and into your room, slamming him against the wall. He lands with a thud and a devious smirk.

You brush your finger across his lips, eyes peering into his. There they are again, the storm that has torn sailors and their rafts asunder, lightning and thunder electrifying even your immortal form.

"Your thirst has yet to be quenched," he whispers to you, eyes swirling. Or maybe you're just imagining that, entranced by him.

"Are you offering yourself?" you ask dryly, with the restraint that you don't have.

Dion laughs, cocking his head to the left. Once again, he bares his neck to you. You aren't so impolite as to reject a gift offered to you.

You sink your fangs into his skin. The same caramel gold that plagues your mind, shining with a thin layer of sweat. And it tastes sweeter than before, with the right hint of despair, just as you like it. Dion's existence at that very moment perforates your senses; the smell of iron and sweat in the air, the sounds of his low moans in your ear, the taste of saccharine goodness in your mouth. And then you open your eyes and he greets you with a loving smile and a tsunami that sweeps you off your feet.

"You're still hungry." It isn't a question but a statement. And he's right to make it a statement because you wouldn't have been able to answer anyway.

You lick the puncture wound with your tongue, gliding gently against the surface. He shivers, his legs struggling to remain standing. Noticing this, you drag him to bed, yet again pushing him down.

He chuckles, laying flat on his back, his hair sprawling out like ripples in a lake. His arms are wide open, and you dive into his embrace, your legs straddling his form.

As you pin him down with your weight, you find yourself caressing his face. A drop of your fingers on his long eyelashes, and then they're slowly trickling down to his jaw. You can feel him become still beneath you and your fingers trail beneath the precipice of his jaw to the jugular juts of his Adam's apple. Your touch bobs up and down as he swallows air, his eyes staring into yours... muddled in something you can't quite place your finger on.

You think you hear him breathe a whisper in your direction, but you don't catch what he's saying. Instead, your hands are clasping around his throat, nails kissing his tender skin. A maniacal grin is stamped on his face, his hands laying peacefully to his sides. He doesn't struggle and instead almost seems to lift himself to meet your grip more.

A flush of power overcomes you as you tighten your hold on him just a little more. He's clasping onto the sheets of your bed with his fingers; it's a shame that he'll have to make your bed again later tonight. You watch, intrigued, as his eyes roll up and drool leaves his lips.

You release him gradually, the skin on his neck blooming in colors of wild roses, hawthorns, and cornflowers. A wreath around his neck, as your prized champion and faithful servant. That's what you've given to him.

When you back away, his hand springs out like a geyser and catches your wrist. His grip is gentle but unyielding, and he's looking at you with a satisfied smile and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He pulls you down, embracing you fully in his arms. You feel something wet and hard beneath you.

"Only take blood from me," he mutters into your ear, appendages like boa constrictors. "Only from me."

You finally rest your eyes, lips painted in his redness.

i welcome and encourage all psychoanalyses of both y/n and dion

-> masterlist

[bookwyrminspiration]

the promise of emails from my good friend jonathan is my life raft in the storm rn

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Tension? What Tension? - Soft Things Survive

Previous Part

i’m having too much fun writing about these emotionally constipated idiots

warnings: refer to series masterlist

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

word count: 3.39k

series masterlist | main masterlist

Katniss is trying to drown Peeta again.

Not seriously. Just enough to make it theatrical.

He resurfaces with a gasp and a grin, water dripping from his hair as he yells, “That was a war crime, Everdeen!”

She just smirks and flicks water at him with the back of her hand. “Next time, I hold you under longer.”

You’re watching all this from the dock, leaning back on your hands. Your ankles are in the water, your face is half-melted from the heat, and your shirt’s already damp with sweat because of course it’s the most suffocating day of the entire damn summer so far.

Haymitch is stretched out beside you, shirt half-unbuttoned, sunglasses on, very obviously Not Participating.

“You gonna go in?” you ask, nudging his leg with your foot.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like being dry, honey. And also because the minute I set foot in that lake, one of those lunatics is going to try and baptize me with violence.”

You snort. “So dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?” he says, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who packed a towel, a snack, and an escape plan.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Because I have foresight. You, meanwhile, are going to be sweaty and miserable in five minutes and begging me for water like a sad little plant.”

Haymitch opens his mouth to argue—and then a waterlogged Peeta lunges onto the dock behind you with a war cry.

You scream. He grabs your wrist. You shriek louder.

Haymitch does nothing except sip from a bottle he definitely smuggled into your bag, “I warned you.”

Chaos. Immediate chaos.

Katniss cannonballs. Peeta’s trying to haul you into the lake. You’re clinging to Haymitch’s leg like it’s your last hope.

You’re clinging to Haymitch like he’s a damn life raft, and he’s just sitting there—laughing—while Peeta tries to pry your fingers off his leg.

“Traitor!” you shout at him, as Peeta finally hooks an arm around your waist.

“You picked your side the second you called me a sad little plant,” Haymitch says, utterly unbothered.

You try to twist away, but Peeta’s got momentum and water weight on his side. You go down like a ship in a storm—splashing into the lake with a shriek that echoes through the trees.

The water hits like a shock, cold and loud, stealing the breath from your lungs. When you come up, sputtering, hair plastered to your face, Katniss is already grinning from where she’s floating nearby.

“I didn’t even have to help this time,” she says. “Impressive, Mellark.”

Peeta bows, dramatically. “I take my work seriously.”

“You’re both monsters!” you yell, treading water furiously. “I am a delicate creature! I have rights!”

“You started this,” Haymitch calls from the dock, still lounging like he’s sunbathing royalty. “You brought chaos. Chaos came for you.”

You swim back toward the dock, slap a wave of water in his direction. “You’re not safe up there forever, old man.”

He snorts. “Try me, fish bait.”

Peeta and Katniss start splashing each other again—lighthearted but somehow already bordering on romantic duel levels of intensity. You barely have a chance to process it before Peeta swims behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. She doesn’t even pretend to fight it this time. Just leans back into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Ugh,” you groan. “Can you two stop being in love for, like, one second?”

“You came to the lake with a couple,” Katniss says flatly, resting her head against Peeta’s shoulder.

“Technically, I came here with Haymitch, which was its own mistake,” you call.

Haymitch raises a brow. “Keep talking, honey. See what happens.”

“Oh no,” you mock gasp, “am I in trouble?”

“Neck deep,” he mutters, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

You kick your way back to the dock, grab onto the wood with both hands, and lean your cheek against it dramatically. Your hair drips down the side, soaking your shirt even more. “I’m gonna haunt this lake if I die from betrayal.”

Haymitch stands—finally—and peers down at you. His sunglasses slide down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes.

“You’re already haunting me,” he mutters, and your brain short-circuits on the spot.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re loud.”

“You did not say that!”

He steps around you casually. “That’s what I meant.”

You grab the dock edge and start climbing up, water streaming down your arms and legs. Haymitch turns just in time to see you crawling up like some kind of soggy vengeance demon. He does not look sorry.

“You’re gonna regret this,” you mutter, shoving your wet hair back from your face.

“I already do.”

“Oh, do you now?”

You lunge for him.

He yelps—actually yelps—and tries to dodge, but you’re fast when you’re fueled by righteous fury. You manage to get both hands on him and shove—not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to throw him off balance.

He stumbles.

You blink.

He blinks.

Then he grabs you by the waist and drags you down with him.

You crash into the water again with a full-body shriek. Somewhere behind you, Peeta’s cackling.

When you come up again, Haymitch is already bobbing to the surface, soaked and smirking like he’s proud of himself.

“Happy now?” he asks, brushing his hair back.

You squint. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“I’m already wet. Not like you can punish me worse.”

“Oh, I can try.”

“Please don’t,” Peeta yells. “Innocent bystanders present.”

Katniss looks at you two, then at Peeta, and rolls her eyes. “Let’s go walk the edge. Give the weirdos some space.”

Peeta nods solemnly and swims toward shore.

You and Haymitch watch them go.

Then you look at each other.

And immediately look away again.

He clears his throat. “They’re disgusting.”

You nod. “Horrible. Sickening, really.”

He says nothing for a moment, then adds, “I bet she kisses his nose when no one’s looking.”

“I bet he braids her hair with wildflowers when they’re alone.”

A long pause.

You say, quieter, “Must be nice, though.”

You don’t mean to look at him when you say it, but you do. And he’s already looking at you.

Something shifts. Just slightly.

Then—he flicks water at your face. “You gonna get all sappy on me now, honey?”

You flick water back. “Please. I’m emotionally unavailable.”

“Liar.”

“Grump.”

“You like it.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

He moves closer—just a bit. You’re still floating, still surrounded by water and sunlight and the aftershocks of laughter.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he mutters.

“Yours looks like seaweed.”

“You say that like it’s not a look.”

You open your mouth to fire back—but then, with absolutely zero warning, Haymitch steps forward and grabs you by the waist.

Your yelp is somewhere between startled and indignant as he pulls you toward him, steadying you effortlessly while you flail just slightly—just enough to prove a point.

“Hey!” you squawk, grabbing onto his shoulders more out of reflex than anything else. “What was that for?”

He’s got both hands on your waist and his grin is maddeningly smug.

“Seeing you try not to drown was making me tired.”

“I wasn’t drowning! I was floating!”

“You were flailing.”

You gasp. “I was elegantly drifting in a natural paradise, thank you very much.”

He raises an eyebrow, eyes sparkling despite the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “Elegantly drifting? That what we’re calling dog-paddling now?”

You squint at him, lips twitching. “You’re lucky I’m clinging to you or I’d kick you.”

“Mm.” He glances down at your hands still hooked over his shoulders, his fingers still loose but steady around your waist. “How tragic for me.”

Your heart forgets how to beat for a second. Maybe two. It’s the water. The heat. The soft flicker of sunlight off his lashes. It’s definitely not the way his voice dipped just slightly or the fact that his thumb brushed your side like it didn’t mean anything.

You try to regain your footing, pushing gently against him to test for the bottom—and fail. Immediately. You flail again, bumping into him harder than intended, which only makes him laugh under his breath.

“See? Flailing.”

“I hate you,” you grumble.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m sunburnt!”

“Sure, honey.”

Your brain short-circuits at the nickname. Again. Which is unfair because he says it all the time now and you should be used to it by now and—oh god, his hands are still on you.

You glance up at him through your lashes. “You know, you didn’t have to grab me.”

“Didn’t I?”

Your stomach swoops. You forget how to be a person for approximately three seconds before you clear your throat and say, with as much sass as you can muster, “Okay, sunshine. You can let go now.”

“Right,” he says. But he doesn’t. Not right away. His grip loosens slowly, hands brushing over your sides before letting go completely.

And suddenly, the water feels colder where his hands were.

You blink at him. He grins at you.

Somewhere on shore, Peeta laughs way too loudly at something Katniss says, and you both turn—only to see her perched on a tall rock, smug as ever, as Peeta beams up at her like she put the stars in the sky.

You and Haymitch exchange a look.

Totally annoyed.

Totally not longing.

“Disgusting,” Haymitch mutters.

“Unbelievable.”

“Who gave them the right?”

He hums. “Should ban it.”

“Right? Love? In this economy?”

Haymitch starts wading toward the shore first, muttering something about “getting too old for water-based shenanigans.” You follow after him, still grinning as you slog through the shallows, water clinging to your legs like it doesn’t want to let go.

The sun’s still high, but the breeze has picked up—just enough to raise goosebumps on your arms as you step onto the warm rock near the edge and plop down beside Haymitch, who’s already collapsed onto a towel like he’s auditioning for the role of Most Dramatic Reclining Man.

“Water’s nice,” you say, wringing out the end of your shirt.

“Nice,” he mutters. “Sure. Real spa treatment. Can’t wait for the mold to set in.”

You snort, grabbing your towel and flopping it over your head. It muffles the sound of Katniss yelling something at Peeta, who’s clearly just dunked her on purpose now that they’re back in the water. You peek out from under the towel, grin at the chaos.

And then you glance down.

Your breath catches just a little—but not from shock. Just from the reminder.

The scars—thick lines that stretch from the outer sides to the tops of your thighs—always stand out more when you’re cold or wet because they turn purple of all colors. It’s not painful. It’s just… obvious.

You tilt your head at them.

Then grin, all teeth and mischief.

“Hey, look,” you say, tugging your towel off your head and gesturing to your thighs with a dramatic flair. “I’m a mood ring!”

Haymitch, mid-sip from a canteen, chokes.

You shoot him a wide, unapologetic grin. “Purple means ‘cold and full of unresolved trauma.’”

He coughs into his fist, half a laugh slipping through. “Jesus, honey.”

“What? It’s seasonal color analysis for my mental state.”

He glances down, catches the faint glint of scars against your skin, then looks back up at your face—like he’s checking.

You nudge his foot with yours. “Don’t get all soft on me, sunshine.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You looked soft.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m just disgusted by your sense of humor.”

“Mm, no. I think you’re endeared.”

“You’re lucky I don’t toss you back in the lake and let you drown.”

“Admit it,” you say, smirking as you flop back onto the towel, arms spread dramatically. “You’d miss me.”

He hums again, settling back beside you, eyes flicking toward the sky. “Yeah. I would.”

You squint at the sky, pretending like your heart didn’t just trip over itself. “Careful,” you murmur. “I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

Haymitch doesn’t look over. Just lets the sun spill across his face as he says, “Maybe I do.”

And that—that—short-circuits your entire brain.

You blink up at the clouds. “Well. That’s illegal.”

He smirks, barely. “Sue me.”

“I might.”

“Peeta’s got a lawyer name. Ask him for a referral.”

You snort, nudging your foot against his again. “You’re such a menace.”

“Says the girl comparing her trauma to a novelty item from hundreds of years ago.”

“Bet you owned a mood ring.”

He exhales through his nose. “Probably. Might’ve invented it.”

You gasp, scandalized. “So you are ancient.”

“I prefer ‘mysteriously timeless.’”

“You creak when you sit down.”

“Whiskey fixes that.”

You cackle, covering your face. “Oh my god. You would’ve been the kid trying to eat a mood ring just to see if your insides were sad.”

“Still am,” he mutters, cracking one eye open to look at you. “Except now I’ve got worse coping mechanisms and better whiskey.”

“Progress?”

“Debatable.”

You hum contentedly, fingers tracing lazy shapes into the towel beneath you. The sun warms your skin, the wind tugs gently at your damp clothes, and beside you, Haymitch lets out a sigh that sounds like something untangling in his chest.

“You really okay?” you ask, not teasing this time. Just soft.

He glances over at you—eyes serious for half a second. Then he nods. “Yeah. Kinda hard not to be when you’re yelling about knee cartilage and emotionally aware thighs.”

You grin, eyes closing. “That’s what I’m here for. Unhinged weather reports and deeply concerning jokes.”

Haymitch doesn’t say anything for a beat.

Then, quieter. “And hand-holding. Apparently.”

Your smile turns a little shy. “Well. Only on special occasions.”

He hums again. “We’ll have to make more of those, then.”

You turn your head slightly, eyes still closed, just barely nudging your shoulder against his. “Yeah. We will.”

You’re still smiling when Peeta calls out from farther down the shore, where he and Katniss are already rolling up their towels and tossing things into their bag.

“Hey! If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna end up hiking back in the dark!”

Katniss, with all the tenderness of a brick, adds, “Which is fine for me, but Peeta’s just gonna trip on a root and dent his prosthetic again.”

“That was once,” Peeta says indignantly.

“Was it?” Haymitch asks, loudly and very unhelpfully.

You snort and stand, brushing off some damp grass stuck to your calves. “Guess we’re calling it.”

“Tragic,” Haymitch says, standing up beside you with a grunt. “Just when I was enjoying your drowned rat aesthetic.”

“You’re just mad I didn’t actually drown.”

“Oh no. That was plan B.”

You flick water at him from the end of your towel, and he swats at you like you’re an annoying bug—which only encourages you further. Katniss shakes her head but is definitely smirking as she slings her bow over one shoulder.

You all start the short hike back, the trail still warm underfoot despite the sun starting to dip. It’s golden-hour light now—soft and low, filtering through the trees in hazy streaks. Cicadas buzz in the distance, and everything smells like summer and wet earth and warm leaves.

Peeta walks ahead with Katniss, their fingers automatically tangled together like they were built that way. At one point, she mutters something under her breath and he laughs—low and bright—and leans over to kiss her cheek without missing a step.

You don’t look at Haymitch.

He doesn’t look at you.

You both do not look at each other.

But your hands are close.

Not on purpose. Definitely not. The trail is just narrow, okay? The heat still clings to your skin, and your towel keeps slipping, and maybe you’re walking a little too close, but it’s fine.

The first brush of fingers is probably accidental.

Probably.

The second one definitely isn’t.

You glance up at him from the corner of your eye.

Haymitch is looking ahead, expression neutral. His hand swings just enough to bump yours again.

“Accidental, huh?” you murmur, lips twitching.

“I’m just walking.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re the one with twitchy hands.”

“I’m full of feelings and poor decision-making.”

He glances down at you, eyes warm in the gold light. “You say that like it’s new.”

You grin. “It’s my whole brand.”

You don’t reach for his hand.

But you don’t move yours away, either.

The third time your fingers brush, they stay there for just a second longer than they need to.

Not quite held.

Just… hovering.

Your chest feels like someone lit a match in it.

But you keep walking, keep smiling, keep your voice even despite the fact that you’re mentally screaming at the clouds.

“I like summer,” you say vaguely, because it’s the safest thing your brain can find.

Haymitch hums. “You just like being chaotic without freezing.”

“Exactly.”

He grins. It’s quick and sharp and real, and you want to bottle it.

By the time you reach the edge of the woods, the sun is kissing the horizon and the village is bathed in soft amber light, the kind that makes everything look a little more like home.

Peeta holds low hanging branches back for everyone. Katniss pretends not to smile when he bows dramatically like some overly romantic butler. Haymitch mutters something about “idiots in love,” and your heart does a weird little thing you absolutely refuse to acknowledge.

You take a long shower the second you get home—long enough to scrub the lake water from your skin, long enough to make the dried grass and chaos feel like a memory instead of something still clinging to your arms.

The sun’s almost fully set by the time you towel off and throw on your softest oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. Your hair’s still damp, but you don’t care. You feel clean, warm, soft.

And maybe just a little bit floaty.

You pause at your front door, hand on the knob, and let yourself breathe.

In.

Out.

Then you open the door and step back into the twilight air, your legs moving on autopilot.

Haymitch’s porch creaks when you step onto it. The windows glow faintly from inside, and something in your chest settles at the sight of it—like your bones were always meant to find their way back here.

You don’t knock.

You just swing the door open with flair and yell, “Sunshine, I’m home!”

And then your brain dies.

Because Haymitch is stretched out on his couch like some kind of vintage painting come to life—shirtless, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other resting where his scar is, fingers absently tapping. His hair’s still damp, like he just showered too, and his skin is all golden in the low lamplight, the lines of his chest and stomach defined in that effortless, unfair way.

Your mouth forgets how to form words.

Your thoughts all pile up in a traffic jam behind your eyes.

Haymitch glances up at you, completely unbothered. “You announce yourself like that every time you break into my house?”

You’re still frozen in the doorway.

“I—uh. Yep. Regularly. It’s a… tradition.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You good?”

No. No, you are not good. You are currently short-circuiting over the veins in his forearms and the way his sweatpants are sitting just low enough to trigger the spiraling part of your brain.

You clear your throat. “Fine. Totally fine. Why would I not be fine.”

His lips twitch like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “You’re staring.”

You immediately look at the ceiling, and wonder, not for the first time, how the hell a man who survives on whiskey, sarcasm, and sheer spite has the audacity to look that good shirtless.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m admiring the—uh—lightbulb.”

“It’s not even on.”

“Exactly. Very energy conscious.”

He huffs a laugh and stretches a little, which is not helping, because now his scar is in plain sight and oh no—

“Do you own shirts?” you blurt.

He lifts his hand lazily to gesture toward the arm of the couch. “Took it off. It was wet.”

“From the lake?”

“From your storm spirit ambiance, actually.”

You press your palms to your cheeks. “You are the worst.”

“Flustered already, honey?”

“I will set your porch on fire.”

He smirks. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Next Part

[little-diable]

Bloody and needy - Dean Winchester (smut)

It only felt right to use this Dean story as my first fic in 2025. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx

Summary: The reader has been plagued by dreams of Dean but when a hunt leaves her bloody and freezing, Dean is set on taking care of her.

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected piv, friends to lovers, blood

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.7k words)

Her heart beat faster with every passing moment, heavy breaths sucked into her aching lungs that tried to hold onto the air as if she was about to drown. And perhaps she was - drowning in everything he was, consuming every part of her body and soul like the icy ocean set on calling her home.

“Look at me, baby.” Dean’s hand found its way up her body to rest on her throat, not tight enough to squeeze but enough to draw a soft gasp from her swollen lips. His green eyes had a darker touch to them, staring down at her with something possessive swimming in his pupils. Slowly, his thumb began to move, touching her soft skin until he found her parted lips.

(Y/n) could only whisper his name, getting lost in his eyes as he pushed his thumb past her lips. She instantly wrapped her lips around his finger, sucking on it to make a groan claw its way out of Dean. Sparks shot down her spine, leaving her trembling while her shaking fingers found his belt loops to impatiently tug him even closer.

A storm was brewing inside of her, her boat would sink, the crew would drown, only her aching need for him would survive.

“(Y/n)? Are you even listening?” His raspy voice ripped her out of her thoughts, forcing her to blink a few times to shake off her memories - memories of an all-too-vivid dream she had been ripped from hours ago. Dean was staring at her, his eyes flickering between the road and her every few seconds.

“Sorry, I’m just tired. What were you saying?” Dean began speaking again, telling her about his plan for their hunt, knowing it would most likely spiral into a bloody mess. But (y/n) was too far gone once again, caught up in the memory of yet another dream that had found her days ago.

“Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes, baby. I bet you’re dripping just from sucking my cock, huh?” Dean’s words had an almost condescending touch to them, making her shudder while humming around his cock. Tears dripped from her glassy eyes, salty like the waves of the ocean clashing against the uneasy raft she was clinging to.

“I could stay like this for days, that mouth of yours drives me crazy.”

A small groan left (y/n), fingers rubbing her tired eyes. She needed to get rid of these thoughts about Dean, knowing she was close to losing her last shred of sanity.

…

In retrospect she should have listened to Dean, should have paid his warnings some attention. And now as both were driving back to their motel, covered in blood, (y/n) couldn’t help but curse herself. No words were shared between them, only Baby’s gentle hum could be heard and the whimpers she let go of every now and then.

“We’ll be at the motel soon, sweetheart.” Dean mumbled his words, trying to keep his voice calm even though he was still riled up from their gruesome hunt. His hand found her knee, softly squeezing for a moment to ground her.

But (y/n) kept quiet, she was too focused on the way her body was freezing, fighting against the cold taking up her system. She had to hold onto Dean as he guided her into their room, couldn’t let go of him as they found their way to the bathroom, needed to rely on him to undress.

Even though she was a trembling mess, (y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to Dean’s face. Blood was sticking to his freckled cheeks and nose, making him appear even sharper and more focused. She felt his hands on her body, peeling her clothes from her frame one by one until only her panties and bra were left.

“Dean,” his name rolled off her tongue like a prayer she knew by heart. A sound so comforting it could soothe his every pain. “Don’t let go, please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, swallowing any words that were close to leaving him before he stepped out of his clothes. Dark green eyes wandered up and down her now naked frame as (y/n) stepped into the shower, moaning at the feeling of the hot water cascading down her back.

“I got you, sweetheart. I’ll never let go, I promise.” Dean whispered the words into her ear, front pressed against her wet back. She only hummed, hands finding his forearms to prove to herself that he was actually there with her, keeping her warm.

“Talk to me, what do you need?” (Y/n) needed a few moments, pondering over the question. Dean’s hands moved slowly, exploring their newfound territory with soft touches. He was sure that he could count every single goosebump covering her skin, guiding his path up her chest like a lighthouse set on saving yet another lonely ship.

“Your touch, you, whatever you can give to me, Dean.” He didn’t reply, at least not with words. Dean cupped both her breasts, pressing himself further against her with a heavy groan. He kneaded her flesh, hoping that he could forever remember the feeling while (y/n)’s head rolled back against his chest, eyes fluttering close. Whatever he wanted to do to her, she’d take it all, finding a home in his arms.

“My pretty girl, I should have known that this is what you need right now, huh?” Almost reluctantly his hands let go of her, moving down her sides to her heat. (Y/n) was aching for him, folds already covered in her arousal - all because of some simple touches.

Dean pressed his calloused fingertips against her pulsing bundle, making a moan claw out of her. Her teeth were buried in her lower lip, close to drawing blood similar to the one that had been washed down the drain moments ago, reminders of another cruel evening tying the two closer together.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for my touch.” No warning was spoken as he pushed two of his fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls. Her hand shot out to find the cold tiles, pressed against the wall to balance her trembling frame. Too many sensations were clashing through her, the feeling of his fingers fucking her, the feeling of his hardening cock pressing against her behind, the feeling of her racing heart pounding in her chest. She was his as much as he was hers, two lonely hearts finally finding one another.

He built up the speed of his movements, fucking her faster to draw the sweetest sounds out of her. Dean was high on (y/n), on the feeling of her body falling prisoner to his touch, forever claimed by it. (Y/n)’s orgasm was building up faster than she had anticipated, desperate to let go with his name bleeding from her tongue, something Dean clearly seemed to pick up on.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby. I want to feel you clenching around my cock.” He pulled his fingers away, turning (y/n) towards him to press his lips against hers. Their lips moved in sync, perfectly fitting together, moments of distraction Dean used to press her against the wall, allowing the water to keep teasing his muscular back.

His right hand picked her leg up, fingertips pressing into her thigh while she reached for his twitching cock. The moan Dean let go of was almost animalistic, loud enough to reverberate through the bathroom - just like a cry for help late at night, a sound only the sirens would pick up on, crawling from the sea to eat a sailor’s heart.

Their lips broke apart for a second, inhaling heavy breaths to brace themselves for the upcoming moments. Dean’s eyes found hers as he pushed into her, groaning at the feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock. For a moment, he held still, relishing in the new sensation, all while she tried to keep herself focused. He felt better than anything she had ever felt before, making her tremble against him - no longer from the heat but from his touch.

“Fuck me, Dean, please.” His hips instantly followed her call, pushing in and out of her to fuck her against the wall. She bared her neck to his wandering lips, quivering whenever he sucked on a spot that made her lose her balance. Dean had a tight grasp on her, and even though he’d never let her fall, she couldn’t stop herself from clawing her nails into his skin, marking him up in her own way.

The shower swallowed most sounds the two made, the snapping of his hips against hers, the moans and groans, even the praises he spoke. But (y/n) heard them all too clearly, praying that she’d never forget them.

“You feel so good, like you were made for me, baby.” Heat crawled up her spine, set on finding its way to her cheeks - a heat so biting not even the shower managed to tame the inferno.

Only his name could leave her, no further words but the only sound she wanted to remember until her very last day. Her body guided her closer to her high, fingers pressed against her pulsing bundle to give herself the last needed push. (Y/n) shook against Dean, eyes squeezed shut, forehead falling against his chest.

Dean kept fucking her through her high, pulling out seconds before he lost his grip. He came with a heavy groan, painting her stomach white with his release, letting it wash down the drain seconds later.

Both were heavily panting, searching for the right words that were swallowed the second he kissed her again, and again, “I’ll always be there for you, sweetheart. No matter what, no matter when, you’re mine.”