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bellysoupset · 7 months ago

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I cannot find the ask who requested for sick Wendy + Bella caretaker, so maybe it never existed at all.... Anyway, have some pure sick bromance between my girls.

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"You think I should cut it?" Bella frowned at her reflection, glaring at her hair. She was standing inside of the changing room of the store, in just a swimsuit, so Wendy could help her pack for honeymoon.

"Your beautiful lion mane?" Wendy scoffed, curling up on the puff she was sitting on and absently minded going through the rack of reject bikinis standing next to her, "are you crazy?"

"Sometimes I feel like it stands out more than I do," Bella pouted, hands on her waist and then sighed, tugging on the swimsuit, "so what do you think?"

"I liked the blue one more," Wendy studied her from head to toe, "but I also think you're going to give Luke a stroke."

Bella opened a big, smug smile, looking over her shoulder to stare at her ass in the mirror, "good, then I'm taking it as well," she walked over to the private part of the changing rooms in order to get back in her clothes, "so how's the extra class you were gonna start taking coming along?"

"Which one of them?" Wendy asked, getting up and checking the price tag of a cute little pink bikini with a matching skirt.

"How many classes are you taking!?" Bella opened the curtain of her changing part, unbothered by the fact she was just in her bra and panties, "aren't you also doing the neurology residency!?"

"Well, you see, I have a lot of free time," Wendy shrugged, "and a lot of energy."

"You should join my boxing class then," Bella zipped up her black leather pants, "Jonah's there and I'm kicking his ass."

"No, you're not," Wendy giggled at the transparent lie, "no coach would ever match you up with Jonah, Bell, he's huge."

"Please," Bella rolled her eyes, putting on her band t-shirt and grabbing her purse as well as the picked swimsuits and bikinis, "I could kick his ass, I know I could," she walked over to Wendy and grabbed the smaller woman by her shoulders, "come up for a class."

"I'll think about it," Wendy wrinkled her nose in distaste. A gym wasn't exactly her idea of fun. Sure, she did hot yoga, but there was none of the loud upbeat music and shouting at each other to do more and better.

"So what else are you studying then, Tink?" Bella walked to the cashier part. Wendy handed her the piece she was planning to buy for herself when her friend flashed Luke's black card before her eyes with raised eyebrows, wordlessly putting it on his tab and Bell didn't comment besides snorting at it.

"Interior Design classes every Monday and Thursdays, yoga every Saturday morning, fashion drawing every Tuesday night... I wanted to try ballroom dancing, but my partner is in freaking Doveport and Jon said he already knows and it would be no fun."

Bella wrinkled her nose and shook her head when Wendy opened her mouth as if to ask her, "absolutely not."

"Boo," Wendy sighed, "I think we should take some class together, it'd be cool. Babs is in my hot yoga class and it's a lot of fun."

"Sure," Bella picked up the bags and they started to walk out of the door, "but not ballroom dancing, thank you. I'm actually participating in a coding challenge right now and-"

"A coding challenge," Wendy raised her eyebrows, "what's that?" They walked the short distance between the store and Wen's apartment building.

"Basically I have to try and design a mockup app with the monthly theme," Bella explained and Wendy frowned at that.

"I thought that was your job...?"

"No," Bell followed her inside the elevator, "I'm a backend developer, a frontend does the design and thinks the interface, I do the math that makes it work. But I like UI design, so that's why-"

"God, you're so nerdy," Wendy grumbled, resting against the metal and grimacing slightly as the movement made her stomach lurch, "I can't believe you didn't get shoved into lockers when you were younger, Bell."

The ginger rolled her eyes, "that's because I was always hot," she showed the other woman her tongue like a five year old, running a hand through her curls and then frowning, noticing Wendy's face had lost its usual pink tone.

Bella opted for not saying anything and they kept chatting, walking into Wendy's apartment. However, the longer they talked, the more Bell realized she was the one doing most of the talking, Wendy getting quieter and quieter.

"Wen," Bella pouted, after spending a good thirty minutes talking basically on her own, "do you want me to go? I don't need to spend the night if you're tired-"

"No!" Wendy exclaimed, shaking her head and moving on her spot on the couch, "sorry, no, I don't want you to leave. We planned you'd spend the night, I was looking forward to that, it's just-"

"It's just?" Bell leaned in, confused and Wendy grimaced, moving again as if she couldn't find a comfortable position, "what's wrong, Wen?"

"My stomach is bothering me," Wendy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red, "I don't know what's wrong, I know I didn't eat anything off, but it's all gurgly and kinda crampy."

"Oh," Bella raised her eyebrows, "do you think it could be hunger?"

Wendy shook her head, "no, definitely not hunger, I feel a little queasy..." she pouted, hugging her knees, "I'm sorry, its just my stomach- I- It's a bit of a sore topic."

"Your belly?" Bella frowned, more confused than before, "you feeling sick to your stomach is a sore topic?"

Wendy nodded, pouting and resting her cheek to her knee, "yeah..."

"Why?" Bella crawled on the couch, moving closer, "because you're chubby? That's silly, babe-"

"No," Wen scoffed, before pausing, "I mean, sorta? I used to have issues with my weight back when I was a teen, which led to becoming bulimic and, well, I don't have an eating disorder anymore, but every time I feel like I'm gonna barf, it makes me feel disgusting-"

"Okay," Bella raised a hand to interrupt her, "your order of priorities is a little skewered, Wen. You should've started by telling me you think you're going to puke..." she opened a small, amused smile, "let's go sit in the bathroom, c'mon."

"No," Wendy curled up more, "I'm fine, it's gonna pass- You're not gonna say anything about..?" she raised a judgmental eyebrow and Bell shrugged, standing up from the couch.

"I don't have anything to say," she said in a nonchalant manner, "I'm happy you don't do it anymore...?"

Wendy let out a snort, noticing how uncomfortable Bella seemed being in the emotional caretaker role. She rolled her eyes, "okay, Bells," but the humor quickly vanished, as her lunch flipped yet again. Wendy let out a sigh, curling up in a smaller ball, "I feel gross."

"You're not," Bella patted her head, "c'mon, let's go sit in the bathroom before you ruin your pretty rug."

Wendy didn't have the heart to tell Bell that sitting in the bathroom waiting to throw up really made her feel more awful, not less. She fidget uncomfortably as Bella rummaged through her cabinet drawers until she found a good claw clip to pull Wen's hair back.

Then she sat down as well on the cold ground and planted a hand on Wendy's back, "you feel a little warm, Wen."

"Isn't that just grand," Wendy groaned, leaning forward and staring at the still water of the toilet. She pushed away, fanning herself, "can you go sit in the living room? I don't want you to see me like this..."

"Nope," Bella popped the P at the end of the word, pulling Wendy to lie against her, "sucks for you, but I'm not going anywhere. Come here- Come here-" Bell pulled her closer, draped across her lap and planted a hand on Wendy's unsettled tummy, "I do this for Luke all the time and it helps."

"That's because your husband is an overgrown puppy, I'm not," Wendy groaned, but she couldn't help but melt at the soft touch. Even if her whole face was aflame, Bella was being really delicate, moving her fingers to the sorest spots as if she already knew them by memory.

The ginger slid down slightly, muffling a yawn and pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy's tummy. The pale skin was pushing out, bloated, and every time Bell pressed it she could feel a string of gurgles under her fingers, traveling up-

"Oh, you silly idiot," Bella scoffed, flicking at Wendy's ear, "the belly rub doesn't help if you don't burp. That's the entire point of it!"

"You're killing me," Wendy groaned, pressing her face to Bell's leg and hiding the angry blushing overtaking her cheeks. Bella snorted at that, continuing the rub.

"I'm trying to help," she whispered, "tell me know if I'm making it worse."

"Not worse," Wendy squirmed, then a burp rushed up before she could muffle it and she let out a whine at the loud noise, covering her face, "oh God- I'm sorry-"

"You're so silly," Bella chuckled, "that's nothing, Wen.”

Wendy cringed, pressing her face further to Bella’s thigh and continuing to burp, trying to muffle them. The burps, that at first were making her feel better, got progressively wetter, until one brought her lunch with it and Wendy scrambled up, slapping a hand over her lips and rushing for the toilet.

She didn’t vomit, it went back down, but left her feeling shaky, nausea causing cold sweat to break on her forehead and over her upper lip, flooding her mouth with a horrible taste.

“Wen,” Bell planted a hand in the middle of her back, “what do you need? What’s wrong?”

Wendy groaned, lifting herself slightly so she could press her sick stomach against the porcelain and resting her forehead on her hand, elbow on the seat, “can’t puke… Wanna puke, I feel-” she spat again, the act of speaking causing more saliva to come up, “feel sick…”

“Okay,” Bells continued to rub her back, short nails making a scratching motion, “do you think drinking something might help it come up?”

She felt so horrid, talking about vomiting like that. Wendy nodded, before letting out a groan, almost a sob. Not quite crying, but close. At least this time it wasn’t her fault she was sick, silver linings.

“Babe,” Bella sighed, returning from the bathroom sink with a glass of water, “hey, you’re okay, it’s just a stomach bug. Happens to everyone…”

Wendy took the glass with shaky, sweaty fingers and forced herself to gulp it down. The first sip was actually good, pushing back the horrible taste and the stickiness in her mouth, only for the throat to seemingly close up, tongue curling with disgust, making it incredibly hard for the to swallow more-

“Fuck,” Wendy haphazardly shoved the glass in Bella’s general direction, not even sure if she took it or not before letting go and her whole back arching with a violent heave. Nothing came up, but it set off a chain reaction, her belly squeezing before she could catch her breath and another two gags, until a wet burp brought up a huge gush of half digested french fries and a milkshake.

The sheer volume made her feel like she was drowning and Wendy coughed, hacking again and letting out a string of moans as even more puke rushed up, splashing on her fingers, and making her head swim with the lack of oxygen.

��I got you, I got you,” Bella said softly, cupping her forehead and flushing the toilet, helping Wendy lean over it, “get it up, Tink, you’ll feel better soon.”

“Urgh,” Wendy spat in the now clear swirling water, struggling to breathe. Her nose was stinging and it felt blocked, she felt cold all over… “Can I have more- More wa-” she never did finish that sentence, her stomach contracting violently and more puke rushed up, this time actually choking her.

Wendy folded almost completely with a coughing fit, feeling Bell thump her back and force her to straighten up in order to clear her airways, “big breaths, babe,” Bella tipped her chin back, forcing Wendy to look up, and some clear air to make it through.

The smaller girl groaned as oxygen came back, her spine giving up on her and she fell back, only for Bella to grab her by the wrists and stop her from swan diving and hitting her head against the porcelain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck — Hey, Wen? You with me?”

“Uhm,” Wendy closed her eyes, dizzy and nauseous, still gulping for air. She leaned to the left, her cheek meeting something soft, so Wen let her weight drop against it, “feel…” a little burp interrupted her, “really shitty.”

She heard Bella let out a relieved sigh at her being responsive, then the ginger’s hands on her face, something wet wiping her lips and chin. Wendy frowned, a new wave of humiliation washing over her, “don’t do that…”

“Shush it,” Bell scoffed, pulling her to lie against her, “you’re done? Surely you must be empty…”

“Don’t know…” Wen mumbled, planting a hand to her tummy. Bella had pushed up her top and it was still up, which made Wendy feel even worse. She must be a sight. Under her hand, there was a string of bubbles and gurgles, rushing up and causing her to let out a little sickly burp, “don’t feel done.”

“There ain’t no way,” Bella scoffed, but there was an amused tone to her words, “well, okay, do you want to just wait it out here or-”

Wendy forced her eyes open, feeling more than a little dizzy. It took her a second to realize she was pressed against Bella’s side, her cheek against her friend’s boob, causing her whole face to turn pink with embarrassment. She pulled back, then leaned forward over the toilet once more and shoved a finger inside her mouth, only for Bella to yank at her hand.

“No, absolutely not,” Bella’s voice was harsh now, none of the previous lighthearted air, “you’re not doing that.”

“I don’t feel good…” Wendy whined, spitting in the water, “I want it out…”

“I don’t care, you’re not doing that,” Bella scoffed, then in a calmer tone she said, “let me rub your tummy, okay? Maybe it’ll help.”

“No, Bell, I-” Wendy heaved, a mouthful of watery vomit falling in the water and leaving her panting, “I need to puke, my stomach feels sour and like it’s burning…”

“Alright,” Bella had a practical tone that caused Wendy to groan, like she was a little engineering problem for her friend to solve. The ginger got behind her, pushing the glass of water back to Wendy, “big gulps.”

“Not- Not gonna-”

“Big gulps,” Bella repeated, voice firm, “c’mon, Wendy.”

Wendy sighed, blowing out another airy burp and then forcing herself to drink the rest of the water. It landed in her stomach like acid, causing more of the burning sensation that tickled her throat and Wendy groaned, leaning more-

Bella touched her belly, her fingers no longer that soft, pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy’s bloated upper stomach, right where it rounded out of her rib cage. The pressure caused a gurgly burp to come up and Wen moaned, squeezing the toilet seat with both hands, as Bell continued to literally squeeze her tummy.

She couldn’t breathe properly, making a slightly wheezy sound, and then her stomach contracted once more, sharply, and Wendy moaned her way as another gush exploded out of her mouth. This time it was mostly sour, salty water, but the first gush opened the gates for the rest and she continued to gag, puking little mouthfuls of chunkier stuff, until she finally let out a deafening heave, whole back curling as her stomach forced up the last of it.

Wendy groaned, her knees giving in and she felt Bella wrap her up with an arm, flushing the toilet, “there you go,” the ginger pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Wendy would have started crying, if she wasn’t half convinced she already was.

She whimpered, pushing her face against Bella’s stomach and falling into an awkward position across the woman’s lap. Bell seemed unbothered, combing her fingers through Wendy’s hair, then moving her hand to her tummy.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pathetic, disgusting, horrible-”

Bella glared at her, “that’s all bull,” she said sharply, “I wanna know how’s your belly.”

“Ah… Better. Not settled,” Wendy sighed, curling up her knees, “I think it’s the flu.”

“I think it’s the flu too,” Bell agreed, “you’re really warm. Think you can stand up? You need to get out of these clothes and into bed.”

“Not now,” Wendy mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut when shaking her head no caused the bathroom to blur, “I’m sorry you had to-”

“Madre de Dio, Wendy!” Bella cried out, “babe, you didn’t gross me out or whatever, just stop fucking apologize. It’s fine, you got sick, that happens.”

Wendy let out a whine, forcing her eyes open, all feverish and emotional and wanting to die, “you don’t think I’m gross? I mean, I-”

“Wendy,” Bella grabbed her cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet, “what world do you live in where we’re running beauty contests on the bathroom floor?”

The phrase caused Wendy to let out a chuckle, pulling back and forcing herself to sit up. She wiped at her forehead, desperately wanting out of her the clothes that were sticking to her, “I guess.”

“You guess,” Bella repeated, dryly and rolling her eyes, “that’s a ten for Wendy Marshall for puking her guts up with class and elegance, minor sobbing and almost no mess.”

Wendy’s cheeks caught on fire and she glared at her friend, “shut up, Bella.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bell scoffed, getting up and extending her hand to help her up, “c’mon, let's get you in a shower and then in bed.”

#sickfic #stomach flu #emeto #emetophilia #belly rubs #wendy marshall #mywriting

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coloradosnumber1dad · 6 months ago

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Andy Buck relationship hcs + nsfw

on a Jeepers Creepers kick so here’s some relationship hcs for Andy Buck (he’s so adorable I’m actually going to combust)

• Okay first he’s definitely the type of guy to buy you flowers every time he sees you. I mean EVERY time. His favorites are daffodils and tulips.

• Even after you’ve been with him for a while he’s still stammering through his words, fiddling his thumbs when he talks to you. You’re just so special and gorgeous how could he not?

• Will 100% let you sit in his lap and do his makeup. He wouldn’t let anyone else ever know about it, but it’s happened on more occasions than he cares to admit

• Chronic yapper s/o 🤝 “uh huh” “oh yeah?” Bf

• Loves to listen to yappers but also likes his s/o to listen to him yap occasionally

• If you play sports, he’s there. Every single time without fail. He probably manages your team tbh.

• Adding to that he’ll def run drills or practice with you. Running every morning, spotting you if you lift. He’s like a little kid who’s just eager to help

• Not in a sexual way (also in a sexual way) loves your thighs. Just lying on them, rubbing them, always has a hand on you

• Bro has a sweater vest collection and you can’t tell me otherwise. Every color, pattern, style possible. Will let you borrow them but gets super annoyed or upset if they come back with a stitch out of place or a little stain

• Finds it absolutely adorable when you steal his glasses. He’ll be annoyed at first and take them back but sometimes he’ll walk by and just put them on you

• Downs energy drinks like a menace. Like emo type monster addiction (does the hug/kiss soda tab thing. Like has a whole ass jar full of them to give to you)

• Dates usually consist of sitting around talking or watching movies, occasionally going to the library

• LOVESSS when you read to him

• Overall just a cutie boyfriend

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

• Whimpers when you suck him off

• Also sweats like a pig

• Switch, sub leaning. Will dom if you want him to but not his favorite

• WHINY SUB WHINY SUB WHINY SUB

• Begs you to let him cum. Whining and pleading with you when you ride him

“P-please I’ve been so good” he whined as you grind down onto him harder. “Please please” “such a pretty boy huh?” You coo, leaning down to press kisses on his neck and chest. Your fingers find their way to his face, wiping away the streaks of tears he has from you edging him for the past hour and a half. “Should I let my pretty boy cum? Hm? Tell me baby?” His eyes roll back into his head as he nods his head up and down frantically “Yes, ohhh yes please. I’ve been so good. God fuck, please” he bit his lip trying to fight back his whimpers when you nodded your head, he let go almost immediately, dick twitching inside you. “Such a good boy”

• Isn’t very kinky, he’ll bend you over and fuck you in doggy sometimes but it’s mostly missionary, mating press, and you on top of him

• If he’s really desperate he’ll take you into the locker rooms and fuck you against the wall but this only happens once in a blue moon

• Average sized, a little thick with a slight curve

• Like I said above, my boy loves thighs. He will be down between your legs sucking hickies and bruises into your thighs before he even thinks about licking your pussy

• Total munch though, will be buried between your legs eating you out for hours you’ll be crying from overstimulation

• Pants like a dog when he’s a dom. Idk it just takes a lot out of him I guess

• Likes his women a little thicker (more to mark up and more to love)

Anyways that’s it! (I need him carnally)

#Andy buck #andy Jeepers creepers #jeepers creepers #jeepers creepers 2 #horror #horror movies

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mooifyourecows · 1 year ago

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I love the humor of your fics! I've genuinely never read a story that does it's humor so well and even after multiple rereads I find myself laughing out loud reading Open Tab for example. What tips would you give for writers who are trying to incorporate humor into the story without it being corny?

Hey, sorry for the late reply, i've been really busy lately with the holidays, womp womp 🥲

My advice is: embrace the corny. Every joke I've made will someday (if not already) be corny to somebody. Some of them have become corny even to me. But that's okay. Corny is good. Corny is funny too. Life is too short to be embarrassed about your writing. Embrace corny.

And what makes you laugh the first time might not make you laugh the fifth time. That doesn't mean it wasn't funny the first four times, right? There are tons of jokes I read back on now and I'm like "oh GOD that's lame" but when i wrote it, and when people first read it, it was HILARIOUS. Humor just wears off a little the more you expect and remember it. I mean sure, there are always going to be those jokes that you think are ALWAYS funny, but they're probably not always funny to other people. They might not have been funny ever at all for some people.

All that matters is if YOU think it's funny. Make YOURSELF laugh and giggle and snort over your stupid, corny jokes. That's what I do. I write something, and if it makes me laugh, I know it'll make someone else laugh. Maybe only one other person, but hey, me and that person are the only people in the world with taste anyway so, bombs away. Don't play to an audience unless you're trying to sell something. Play to yourself and you'll attract like minded people and those are the BEST people to have as your readers. They'll love and support you more than your own dang mom.

And then of course the usual advice i give to people about writing comedy is to consume comedy. Watch some shows/movies or read some books/comics that you personally find hilarious. Really pay attention to why they're funny. If you have to, pause and really break a joke down. Even take notes if that's helpful. Basically treat it like you're about to write a deep dive essay on why you laughed. I know it might seem unfun, explaining the joke, but if you understand comedy, you'll have an easier time writing it. Pay attention to word usage, timing, physical gags, silence, etc. It's all important. But don't be afraid to play around! Comedy is like any art and is meant to be creative and unique to every individual. There are some things out there that people find funny that I can't even pretend to laugh at. And that's okay! It's about taste. Find what you like and try it on.

Personally, I like witty banter. I like humor that is a little surprising and over the top. I like when something is so dumb that you can't help but laugh about it. I like funny characters AND funny situations, but especially funny characters in funny situations. So these are the things I try to include in my writing.

But I also really enjoy contrast, so I like to pair humor with other stuff. Sweet romance, deep emotions, sad drama, etc. If you try to be funny and only funny all the time, you're gonna come off a little desperate and the jokes will fall flat. Ever watch a long running show and have to suffer watching it slowly get less and less funny as the seasons go by because all the nuance is gradually replaced with signature character traits recycled again and again and again until every character is a husk of their former selves? That's what it feels like when you focus too hard on making everything funny. You lose the soul of the writing.

Really pay attention to the things you find funny and try and emulate that same energy. Don't use the same jokes, of course, but try and capture the general vibe of the humor in a way that suits your story/writing style. A lot of the stuff I like to consume is witty banter/outlandish situations/crass euphemisms/puns so those are the things i like to put into my own stories. And hey, sometimes it doesn't work. I've written jokes that make me laugh until I cry but nobody seems to feel the same way and HEY, that's alright. I like it. And liking the stuff you're doing is the most important thing in the end.

Anyway, I hope this is helpful in some way. If you ever want any more advice, feel free to shoot me another ask! I'll try my best 👍

Good luck! Sending you good funny vibes for your adventures into comedic writing 🌈

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stargazeraldroth · 1 year ago

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balance? swap???

as in, like, guardians are swapped within their pairs (ie error and ink switch), or guardian pairs swap with another pair (ie error and ink switch with the apple bros)? it sounds interesting… and potentially disastrous, lmao.

As in Guardians are swapped within their pairs. One of the things I'm doing with this AU is trying to stay true to the characters' more iconic bits, such as Error's temper and Nightmare's ego. Everyone else is relatively the same, for the most part. I haven't done much with Life or Reaper because they aren't all that involved?? Like they mind their own business, do their own thing... they're watching from the sidelines.

Anyway, here's our cast:

Error: The Protector of the AUs. He was awed by the beauty of worlds like Outertale (power of the stars baby), deciding to protect them for reasons like this. His role was given to him by the Creators, rather than being made for it. He still has his haphephobia and likes making puppets, but he doesn't destroy worlds or collect souls anymore. He's always keeping tabs on Ink... which sounds stalkerish, but I promise it isn't intentional. He also remembers that he used to be Geno.

Ink: The Destroyer of the AUs. Originally, he was taken in by Error and worked alongside him as a Protector. But one of the Creators told him the truth of his origin, how he was an abandoned AU and essentially left to die, and he turned spiteful and wrathful towards them. There was a huge fallout between him and Error, partially because Ink's jealous of him- he thinks that he's nothing but an accidental discovery the Creators made, while they went looking for Error because he was Geno, a missing character. If they never spilled that paint... would he still be in the Anti-Void, waiting for... nothing!? Does he mean NOTHING to the Creators!? He doesn't hate Error, but Error's the one who has to deal with Ink's resentment for the Creators.

Nightmare: The Guardian of Positivity. Much like the original Dream, he was loved by the Villagers, but also met with a lot of demands and "favors". He was still more introverted growing up, but because of how he was practically worshipped like a god, he was forced to interact with people anyway. He's still the one who triggers the Apple Incident, having reached a breaking point with the Villagers, tired of their constant demands and how they treat Dream. This still results in him having a transformation, a massacre, and Dream turning to stone. He has an evident God Complex and is a platonic yandere for Dream, being very possessive of him and hating Ink for taking him away.

Dream: The Guardian of Negativity. My baby. The black sheep and punching bag of the village. He's still very playful and curious, but he's meeker due to the abuse of the Villagers. I like to imagine that there's a small group of outcast kids that would go and play with him. Dream still turns into a statue from the overload of positive energy against his negative energy, and Nightmare ends up taking him to his castle. The constant overwhelming energy keeps him in his statue form until Ink sneaks into the castle and steals him. Yes, Ink stole a whole statue. So Dream starts living with Ink and on the run, primarily from Nightmare. Fun fact- I recently added this, but Dream actually runs away from Ink at one point to go back to Nightmare, thinking Ink's warnings were exaggerated and just paranoia.

#anonymous asks #utmv au #balanceswap au #error sans #ink sans #nightmare sans #dream sans

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raphaelly · 11 months ago

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End of Year Zuka Tag 2023 Part 1

After two years in this fandom I'm finally doing this! Massive thanks and kisses to @beccalendsahand for all the questions ❤️

It's been a tough year, to say the least. It's gonna take me some time to fully cope with all that happened and decide how I want to see zuka in the future. Regardless, I love this community and the people in it to death, I love the siennes and all the heart they put in what they do, I want to stay for both these groups of people.

Unto the more fun part now ~

1. Sumire no Hana: Did you find a new favourite this year? (Either someone who has entered the company this year or someone who has been in the company a while but you have only just become a fan, or both!)

I have discovered a grand number of three new favourites this year! The first one was Ruri Hanaka who completely blew me away like a tornado with her portrayal of Elisa in The Red and The Black. The emotions and youthful intensity she put in her voice and acting touched me so deeply. That and her shared duet with Arisa Hitomi was so good, their voices fit and harmonised so well and that's really impressive when you're next to a singing powerhouse like Kuracchi.

Another favourite this year was Asanoha Kotono, yet another hana musume for me to stan. I had noticed her before in Paris in the Winter Fog but it was her role as the cool and classy Countess Larisch in Mayerling's shinko, as well as her lead in Singing Lovebirds's shinko, that made me go "oh. oh she's really good". There's a maturity in her performances that I find really interesting, on top of a singing voice that I adore. Funnily enough she was the highlight of a Battlefield for Two for me, in terms of powerful singing and acting, Elsa being one of the only characters that I enjoyed in a show I found pretty meh overall.

And finally, I got a hoshi son this year! Taiki Hayate, whose upcoming shinko lead for RRR I'm extremely excited about. I think I made a mental note to keep tabs on her when she played Jalal al-Din in Dimitri's shinko, and then Stella Voice happened and my god her voice, it's so powerful already. As Tournemain in 1789, she formed an extremely funny combo with Kishou Kazuto and then she went on to destroy us by playing Peyrol in 1789's shinko and it was over for me. I'll just say the whip suits her.

2. Ai sore wa...: Tell us about your number one! What's been your favorite role of theirs this year?

One day I will be normal about Seino Asuka but that day sure hasn't come lol. As they say, "it takes 10 years to make an otokoyaku" and 2023 was Asuka's 10th year in the company. And if 2022 was, as she says herself, the year a switch happened in her mind about what kind of performer she wants to be and how she can get there, 2023 truly felt like the year she showed all the fruits of her years of learning. The energy, the intensity, and especially the fun she puts in her roles and her appearances were so fulfilling, starting with her lead role in Maihime.

Having read the book to prepare for the show, I expected a rather "unheroic" type of protagonist, who ultimately fails to follow the values he first had and abandons his pregnant lover. And yeah, that's what we got. But the way she portrayed him brought him a lot of nuances, an explanation of why he does what he does that doesn't try to absolve him. She's at her best when she delves into the character's psychology and that's what she did here, and I'm so so proud of her.

#takarazuka #endofyearzukatag2023 #endofyeartag #endofyearzukatag #hanagumi #hoshigumi #seino asuka #ruri hanaka #asanoha kotono #taiki hayate

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glossysoap · 2 months ago

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again, i know i've already yapped about this and yk what? i'm gonna keep yapping

“So am I the first person you’ve brought here?” you ask. “Or do you take every neighbor out to dinner?” John lifts one dark brow, leans in with a tilt of his head. “Only the pretty ones.” You give an unladylike snort and swirl a cut of chicken around in curry sauce. “You’re incorrigible, John, really.” The smile he gives crinkles the laugh lines around his eyes, and you feel yourself want to melt at the sight. It is unfair how handsome he is, in that warm sweater, in that golden light, haloed softly in the haze of your verging intoxication. “When will you believe me when I compliment you, hmm?” he asks, low and resonant in the depths of his chest. You shoot the rest of your scotch in answer, stuff the chicken into your mouth, and proffer the empty glass. John squints at your heresy, but obediently pours.

AHHHHH the way he keeps complimenting you and you're convinced he's joking or teasing (i feel so SEEN) and he's slowly getting frustrated about it because he wants you to believe him so bad??? RAGHHHHHH

“Hey,” John says, soft and gentle. You look up to meet his eyes—the expression on his face is a mixture of sympathy and resolution. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Sure, John.” “Love.” His brow creases, insistent. “You deserve something you want.”

DKSKDDSDK i love him!!!!! god he's so fucking sweet and caring and literally what i need in a man!!

“Oh, John, really!” You give a scoff, surprised at the sudden humor. “You couldn’t carry me all that way.” One dark brow lifts. “No,” you say. “You’ll have to put me down. I’m not light.” The smile remains.

SJSJSK i'm fanning myself i love him!! him not budging no matter what you say!!! ahhhh my fat girl self loves him 🥺🥺🥺

“Done, then? I’ll settle the tab. Love, put that away.”

oh my GOD his ass has me giggling and kicking my feet

“Let me help you in, love,” he says, brow creased. “Please. I’m worried you’ll fall and hit your head.”

HE'S SO CUTEEEE

“Drink all of that, alright?” he says. “You had a lot.” You hold the glass back out to him. “You did too.” His brows lift, lips parting. Have you surprised him? He pulls the glass closer with a little tug, puts his lips to the rim and tilts it from the bottom as you hold it. His eyes do not leave yours as he drinks, as he takes only a little, and then he pulls away and gently pushes the glass back toward you. Your gaze falls from his eyes, down to the little droplets of water clinging to his mustache, down again to the steady line of his mouth. You bring the glass back up and take a deep gulp. “Good girl,” he says, low and rumbling, and heat floods your body. You realize then that his other hand is on your knee, the weight of his palm heavy and broad, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into the edge of the cap. You are washed in the blend of his warm comfort and the sudden, almost violent sear of your own desire.

OH MY GODDDDD oh i had to fan myself ngl. not only the caring line where he orders you to drink it all but him drinking from the glass himself? then giving it back to you for you to drink? WOOFFFF 😵‍💫😵‍💫 the little droplets on his mustache??? WOOFFFF 😵‍💫😵‍💫 and the good girl????? JESUSSSSS 🤭🤭

When he turns back to you, your hand comes up, unbidden, to curve itself along the angle of his jaw. Umber bristles are coarse beneath the sweep of your thumb. “Not soft, is it?” John murmurs, and there is something stormy and intense in his gaze. You take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m okay with that.” His hand grips your knee suddenly, vicelike, and you know this is pushing too far. He does not lean in to you, makes no move toward you, but his entire body is a bank of energy that he is holding, holding, holding back. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His eyes pin you to the couch as he works the muscles in his jaw. “You’re drunk, love,” he says. It is not the pleading assertion he’d given earlier. It is a conclusion—fond, but resigned. The room has begun to gently spin, with John at its axis. “I’m drunk,” you agree, whispering and fragile. It breaks whatever has been building since you’d left the pub. John draws back. Nods. Gives you a smile—that smile. The one that had taken hold of you the first time you saw it. Trying, with every scrap of willpower it had, to be happy, to be alright with what little it had. Failing to do so. Unable to hide how much it wanted.

OH. MY. GOD. jesus fucking christ fhjshfsjdk the tension!!!!!! i'm dying i love that so much. her touching his beard before her hand can help it and him saying it's not soft only for her to say she's okay with it!!! hngngngn the way he's holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he's got!!!

i'm in love with your writing <33

gravity

previous - neighbors - next

John takes you out to dinner. cw: alcohol, somewhat heavy drinking

It’s a cold and windy morning that, as you hover just a little closer to his warmth, you ask him about decent places to eat nearby.

“Fancy pub food?” he asks in response, and it takes you a moment to process what he’s said. Today he’s in a thick, soft-looking knit sweater, which makes it infinitely difficult not to imagine huddling up against him.

You think he’d let you. You’re not sure how you know this. Maybe it’s the way he positions himself next to you, standing at an angle toward you just slight enough to be casual, but open enough to be purposeful. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to warm you up with his eyes alone—he asked you once why you always bundled up to be outside, and you told him you were just sensitive to the cold.

Since then, you’ve often caught him checking on you, surreptitiously. Simple once-overs that you think are searching for evidence of discomfort.

What would he do, you wonder, if he found any? Would he send you inside, as he had the first morning?

Part of you thinks that would be better. It would give you an out, open up a path diverting away from whatever this thing is that hangs in the air between you and John Price, this thing that you pass back and forth between the pages of borrowed books.

It’s a thing that breathes with the both of you into the early morning, and you don’t know how to look at it. You don’t understand its shape. It’s a thing you wish you wanted to walk away from.

“Who doesn’t?” you reply, sipping at the cold dregs in your cup.

“How ‘bout tonight, then?” John says, and you swallow a little too quickly.

“W-what about tonight?”

He smiles at you, as if he’s thrown you off on purpose. “Dinner, on me.”

You blink several times. “You—I—I mean—really?”

He shrugs, easy and casual as you wish you could be. “Could show you what’s best on the menu. And I wouldn’t mind having dinner with someone besides m’self.”

You hesitate, because your gut reaction is to say yes, John, I’d like nothing more, and that is not a reaction you want to satisfy. These past several mornings have been nice—nicer than you could have expected. You’ve stopped interrogating yourself as to why you keep bothering, because each time his smile greets you as you step outside is answer enough. The routine has been easy to settle into, even comforting.

You need to protect that comfort, you know, even from the allure of something more.

John does not press for an answer, seeming content to savor the last few inhales of his cigar. You wonder if he’s guessed at your inner conflict, wonder if the quiet he’s giving you is an intentional moment to sort yourself out.

He never presses for anything, ever.

“I suppose I could meet you after work,” you finally say.

The smile that breaks across his face nearly knocks you off your feet. You’re relieved when he says, “Sounds good to me,” because if he’d said it’s a date you think you might have dissolved on the spot.

John texts you the pub’s address, and it’s close enough to walk to. You arrive that evening, in your usual two coats plus a knitted hat, to find that the place exceeds a set of expectations you didn’t know you had. The patio seating is closed in with a white picket fence and hung with strings of fairy lights, and it flanks a red brick building with a large, friendly lantern hanging over the door.

You might have expected something a little grubbier, if you’d given the place any more thought beyond this is John’s pub and he’s having me for dinner here.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, and your gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to a table further in—John has already seen you, and beckons you over with a wave.

He’s still in the knit sweater, and his fleece jacket is hanging on the back of the seat across from him. He stands as you approach, rounds the table, and pulls that chair out for you when you join him.

You don’t know why the chivalry makes you falter, makes you want to turn and sprint all the way back home. All you know, as you sit down, is that you can practically feel the aura of his presence behind you as he helps push your chair in, can feel it move as he leaves your side to return to his seat. You feel yourself gravitate into it, leaning a little over the table as if trying to keep it close.

“This place is tidy,” you say earnestly, trying for that morning normalcy, as you begin to shuck your layers.

“It’s alright,” he agrees. He’s smiling gently, the cool blue of his eyes vivid in the contrast of warm lamplight.

“Do you—” and then you can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a cliche question “—do you come here often?”

He grins, huffs that little laugh. “Too often,” he says as he sits back in his chair, putting a hand on his stomach. “It’ll start showing soon, probably.”

You look at the flat of his stomach, the broad paw of his hand. Remember the trim waist of that very first morning. “You know, somehow I doubt that.”

He meets you eyes, laughs again, and it warms you to the bone.

Seeing him like this, at night, is an unknown quantity. The John you know how to interact with exists on his front doorstep, painted in the cool palette of sunrise, cold air, cigar smoke. This tableau, composed upon the table between you, might as well turn him into another man entirely. Who is this John, awash in warm light, nearly twelve hours older than the man you spoke to this morning? Who are you, now, seeing him after work and before the end of the night?

You feel a little untethered. Your feet still itch for the door, for the measured, predictable floorboards of your own home.

Maybe John notices, because he takes a menu from the stack of two at the end of the table and offers it to you with a reassuring lift of his brows. “Hungry?”

That question, at least, has an easy answer. You smile a little. “Starving.”

His advice turns out to be necessary—everything looks good, and you both end up ordering too much food. Over a spread of fresh, hot chips, halloumi kebabs, and katsu chicken served liberally with curry sauce, John also has a bottle of scotch brought to the table.

“No, that’s too much!” you protest as the waitress sets the decanter down with two clean glasses. “John, really.”

He sets to pouring, his expression pleased, though you’re not sure what about. “Humor me, love. I don’t get to share very often.”

He hands you a glass, and lifts his own above the food. You acquiesce, and clink the rims.

“Do I take a shot or a sip?” you ask, bringing the glass up to your mouth.

“A sip,” says John, and his expression is genuinely distressed. “Please, don’t ever suggest shooting scotch again. That hurt to hear.”

You smirk, and take a slow drink. It hits your tongue with the prologue to a burn, rolling across your taste buds as the twinge fades and you close your eyes. The flavor opens like smoke exhaled into still air; you purse your lips a little and swirl it in your mouth; nutmeg, vanilla, and even a little apple expand across your palate. When it hits the back of your tongue, a short floral burst surprises you, and you swallow it down eagerly.

You find John watching you when you open your eyes.

“Where did you learn to drink like that?” he asks, and there is a new tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

It’s low. Resonant. Almost—purring. The look in his eyes, too, is different, the pale blue sharper somehow. Focused keenly, and with some unknown, honed intent, on you.

It pins you where you sit. John is looking at you. John is seeing you.

“Doesn’t everyone learn to drink at uni?” you reply, trying for airy and light. It doesn’t work. Your voice trembles, just a bit.

He’s still watching you, and you think he sees that. Recognizes, perhaps, a change in your expression, some telltale sign that he has shaken you. He looks away from you, takes a drink of his own scotch, and when his gaze returns the keen edge of it has softened. You breathe, and realize you hadn’t been.

You seek something comfortable, something you can measure and control. “How is Actium treating you, then?”

He smiles, and it’s a little rueful. “Octavian’s being a cunt.”

As talk of the most recent book he’s borrowed carries you into more comfortable territory, the two of you make your way through dinner, which is every bit as delicious as John had promised. The food is hearty, greasy in a way that isn’t too heavy, and pairs perfectly with John’s scotch, which you indulge in liberally.

When the alcohol has outpaced the food that is meant to offset it, you think back to what he’d said earlier, about not often getting to share.

“So am I the first person you’ve brought here?” you ask. “Or do you take every neighbor out to dinner?”

John lifts one dark brow, leans in with a tilt of his head. “Only the pretty ones.”

You give an unladylike snort and swirl a cut of chicken around in curry sauce. “You’re incorrigible, John, really.”

The smile he gives crinkles the laugh lines around his eyes, and you feel yourself want to melt at the sight. It is unfair how handsome he is, in that warm sweater, in that golden light, haloed softly in the haze of your verging intoxication.

“When will you believe me when I compliment you, hmm?” he asks, low and resonant in the depths of his chest.

You shoot the rest of your scotch in answer, stuff the chicken into your mouth, and proffer the empty glass.

John squints at your heresy, but obediently pours.

“I suppose your line of work isn’t really great for your social life, then,” you comment. “Always coming and going.”

“My calendar’s certainly empty,” John agrees. “Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve sat down with someone like this. I suppose I’m out of practice.”

“You’re eating with a fork and knife and not your hands.” You grin. “I’d say that’s pretty good already.”

He smiles back. “Would that chase you off?”

You sip your scotch. “Not if you keep pouring.”

“And she complained when the bottle came out. What about you, then?”

“What ‘bout me?”

“How many blokes have you been to dinner with, lately?”

You scoff at that and wash your food down with a sip. “None. As if they’re throwin’ ‘emselves at me.”

John’s expression changes, and it’s slow grin that spreads across his face, a smile you have never seen on him before. It isn’t the sad smile he’s given you at times, melancholy and resigned; nor is it the one he gives when he sees you in the morning, warm and soft and friendly.

No, this one is—energized. Invigorated. As if someone has given him good news he hadn’t been expecting.

“They’ve got to be,” he says, and his tone is humorous. “You must have your pick of the lot. And none of them have struck your fancy?”

You press your hands to your too-warm face. “John, don’t tease me.”

“Seems I’ve got to count myself lucky tonight, then,” he continues, leaning his elbows on the table. “If you’re as choosy as all that.”

You give him a droll look, and swirl your drink around in your glass. “If you must know, I got out of a relationship not long ago.”

John’s brows lift, and you want to smack yourself for letting that little detail escape you. “Is that so?”

You drink. “That is so.”

“What kind of idiot would let you get away?”

“My head is already spinning, and you’re abusing that,” you protest.

“Sorry, love,” he says, clearly not sorry. “But now you’ve got me curious.”

You sit back in your chair, staring at your plate to avoid his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s not all that dramatic. It just…didn’t feel right. I guess he liked me more than I liked him. We would go out, and I would think, ‘I want to leave him and go home.’”

And you still felt guilty about it. You hadn’t liked him that much in the first place, when he’d asked you out—you’d just said yes, because it seemed like the right moment in your life for something like that to happen. When you’d ended it, your extended social network had scratched its collective head, because there truly hadn’t been any good reason.

You just weren’t happy.

“Suppose I didn’t give it enough of a chance,” you say, downing the last of your glass.

“Hey,” John says, soft and gentle. You look up to meet his eyes—the expression on his face is a mixture of sympathy and resolution. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure, John.”

“Love.” His brow creases, insistent. “You deserve something you want.”

You press your lips together tightly, and suddenly you’re struck again with that sensation from earlier, that feeling that John’s presence is a tangible aura, something that rolls and settles across your awareness like a physical touch. You realize you’ve been leaning into it again, drawn toward him like a comet into the snag of a planet’s gravity.

“I’m definitely drunk now,” you say, because the only other words that want to come out are an emphatic I want you.

John smiles. He doesn’t press the issue. “Will I be carrying you home, then?”

“Oh, John, really!” You give a scoff, surprised at the sudden humor. “You couldn’t carry me all that way.”

One dark brow lifts.

“No,” you say. “You’ll have to put me down. I’m not light.”

The smile remains.

You hold his gaze, suspicious, and finish the last of your glass. It does not take long to polish off the last of dinner, and when the two of you agree that the last chips have finally gotten too cold to eat, John pushes his seat back and stands.

“Done, then? I’ll settle the tab. Love, put that away.”

You sheepishly lower your half-lifted wallet back into your purse.

Accounts settled, you make it outside the pub, and then you have to lean against a wall as John watches you, amused. The world is swaying, its pendulum arcing near-horizontal at the amplitude of each swing.

“I just need a minute,” you whisper.

John does the worst thing he could possibly do—he gives you his back and kneels down, arms a little open. “Come on.”

“Come on? Come off it, John, really, you’ll drop me!” you exclaim.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “I won’t.”

You don’t know what convinces you to do it. Tomorrow, you’ll blame the many glasses of expensive scotch, but in the moment you know it’s the way the hanging lights limn his silhouette in gold. You know it’s the soft expression on his face that you are already too fond of. You know it’s the quiet confidence in his reassurance, and above all those things it’s the familiar comfort of his kind blue eyes.

“All right, John,” you say.

As you wrap your arms around his shoulders, John scoops your knees up into the bend of his arms, and you can add now the feeling of his strength to your mental registry of his body. He is broad against you, the width of him obliging your thighs to part farther than they have in a long, long time.

It brings a heat to your face that dwarfs the low simmer of your inebriation. When he lifts you, straightens up and hoists you a little on his back, like you weigh almost nothing, you are unable now to shove back and contain what he has inspired since that first morning.

“This feels nice,” you murmur, tucking your chin on his shoulder. The scotch has the reins of your tongue now. There is no stopping the words that come out. “I wondered if it would. This morning.”

John’s reply is low, humming in his throat as he begins the trek home. “This morning?”

You breathe. “You always look warm and soft. You’re so handsome every morning. Even the first. I wanted to touch you back then. I wanted you to hold me.”

He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s trying to focus on the walk back and not dropping you in the middle of it. He hoists you a little, cupping his hands beneath your knees, squeezing.

His silence prompts more of your honesty. “I don’t want to go to dinner with anyone else, John. Even if someone did ask. You’re the only one.”

“You’re drunk, love,” John says. You don’t recognize the tone of his voice, why it sounds…pleading.

Your face is very close to his, your chin pillowed in the fleece lining of his collar. You resolve fully to blame what you do next on the scotch, and touch the tips of your fingers to the coarse umber on his cheek.

His thumbs press into the divots beneath your kneecaps. John says your name, low and breathy. It must be the strain of carrying you that shows in his voice.

You lean in. You press your cheek against the bristles of his beard, inhale, take in the ever-present Maduro that saturates his skin. The friction is a million little pinpricks of sensation, and you think in that moment that if his beard doesn’t leave hot, welted scratches on your face, you might fall asleep crying.

“Oh,” you murmur, not recognizing the languorous, almost wanton sound of your own voice. “Feels good, John.”

“That’s,” he huffs, and audibly swallows. “That’s good. We’re—ah—we’re almost there.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing against him, settling fully into the expanse of his back.

You doze, unburdened now by what you’ve admitted. He does not waver once on the walk, makes no complaint of your weight as street lights pass and the night moves slowly by. He is as steady, when he makes it to your front door, as he was when he first picked you up.

“Where’s your key, love?” he asks.

“Oh,” you murmur blearily, “um. Let me down.”

Even after your feet are back on the ground, his steadying hand does not leave you, ballasting your elbow as you dig around in your purse. It seems like an embarrassingly long time before you find your keychain, and when you try to unlock your door you miss the slot twice.

John’s big hand wraps around yours then, engulfing it with long fingers and broad palm, and guides the key steadily into the lock. The slide of the deadbolt is loud in the quiet night. You have to lean against the door, suddenly devoid of the strength to turn the knob as you look up at John’s concerned face.

“Let me help you in, love,” he says, brow creased. “Please. I’m worried you’ll fall and hit your head.”

Your entire body feels like it’s sinking into a glass of champagne, his words caressing you like rising bubbles, little pearls of air tickling your face as they touch you. You openly stare at him, watch his throat work as he swallows again, rest your eyes along the broad tendon that flexes as he tilts his head.

“Sure,” you whisper, too out of breath to speak aloud. “If that’s what you want.”

So John turns the knob, loops your arm around his shoulders, and walks you inside.

It is very hard to focus now, as John sits you down on your couch. There isn’t much you can hold in your mind besides the moment his hands leave you, and you inexplicably want to cry at their loss. You don’t see where he goes, vision going dark and blurry around the edges—you think he might have left until he comes back with one of your glasses, filled with clear, cool water.

He kneels in front of you and proffers it, doesn’t let go of the glass until both your hands are wrapped around it. He watches you as you take a sip.

“Drink all of that, alright?” he says. “You had a lot.”

You hold the glass back out to him. “You did too.”

His brows lift, lips parting. Have you surprised him? He pulls the glass closer with a little tug, puts his lips to the rim and tilts it from the bottom as you hold it. His eyes do not leave yours as he drinks, as he takes only a little, and then he pulls away and gently pushes the glass back toward you. Your gaze falls from his eyes, down to the little droplets of water clinging to his mustache, down again to the steady line of his mouth.

You bring the glass back up and take a deep gulp.

“Good girl,” he says, low and rumbling, and heat floods your body.

You realize then that his other hand is on your knee, the weight of his palm heavy and broad, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into the edge of the cap. You are washed in the blend of his warm comfort and the sudden, almost violent sear of your own desire.

When the glass is empty, he eases it from your hands and sets it aside on your coffee table. When he turns back to you, your hand comes up, unbidden, to curve itself along the angle of his jaw. Umber bristles are coarse beneath the sweep of your thumb.

“Not soft, is it?” John murmurs, and there is something stormy and intense in his gaze.

You take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m okay with that.”

His hand grips your knee suddenly, vicelike, and you know this is pushing too far. He does not lean in to you, makes no move toward you, but his entire body is a bank of energy that he is holding, holding, holding back. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His eyes pin you to the couch as he works the muscles in his jaw.

“You’re drunk, love,” he says. It is not the pleading assertion he’d given earlier. It is a conclusion—fond, but resigned.

The room has begun to gently spin, with John at its axis. “I’m drunk,” you agree, whispering and fragile.

It breaks whatever has been building since you’d left the pub. John draws back. Nods. Gives you a smile—that smile. The one that had taken hold of you the first time you saw it. Trying, with every scrap of willpower it had, to be happy, to be alright with what little it had. Failing to do so.

Unable to hide how much it wanted.

“You got a spare key?” he asks. “I can lock you in.”

“Key hook,” you say.

His hand drags down from your knee to stroke along your shin, and then he’s rocking back on his heels, standing to his full height. He looks at you for a moment longer.

“Get some sleep,” he says.

When you blink, he’s gone, and the deadbolt is sliding home.

#glossysrecs 🏹

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musingsoflys · 7 months ago

Text

2nd post for the morning. It was just going to be a deconstructing post, but I went off on a health tangent.

I have multiple journaling locations. I have one where I try to collect everything, but it's getting ... octopus. It's in OneNote, and I have multiple tabs and subpages for different topics: my kids coming out, my husband coming out, my religion shattering, a letter for my Mom about it that I've been procrastinating finishing for over a year -- it's so close--, my own thoughts and feelings about 'all the things.' Due to life's business and my previously mentioned (the other post from this morning) low energy and mental function, I haven't been able to give my religious/spiritual aspect enough attention, and lately I've been feeling the need to do that. The last few days I've been wanting to start rereading Untamed by Glennon Doyle. I think I'm ready to move into the next phase, ?, whatever that is. I feel stalled right now.

I had been working my way through Falling Upward by Richard Rohr. That was also supposed to be part of my Sunday morning time. Now I'm not sure how applicable it will be given my Christian deconversion. I guess I should look and see. I am capable of recognizing metaphor and framing separately from my experience and so still be able to take the lessons. ... ... haha, just had to bring my brain back from another tangent related to framing/context. OK. back to the topic at hand. See, I didn't leave Mormonism only to remain a Christian; my deconstruction of God precludes that. My understanding of God was the first thing that shattered. So, while I often appreciate others' deconstruction experiences, I'm still looking for more non-Christian deconstructing community. Jesus as radical historical figure, fine, but no more Jesus as Savior, no more Heavenly Father (or Mother) -- I feel like they're less parental and more transcended siblings. I want to find my own divinity, not the "seeds of Divinity" as spoken of by Mormon leaders but the stardust inside.

Since at least November, my husband has been in the early goo phase of metamorphosis or the early germination phase of a seed: breaking apart, melting, he's beyond the point of no return from what he used to be. But in his case it's kind of weird b/c what he used to be was constantly masking, constantly trying to be what everyone else thought he should be, so he's trying to be himself, to go back to the beginning, but I just realized that even that being is socially defined, I think, by the imprinting he got as a child. But there's also a lot of trauma there. Anyway, I feel like I'm finally ready to explore nonmonogamy but now he's in a very personally, mentally, and emotionally delicate stage. He's worried that I'll find someone "better" or replace him. (Actually one of the 1st fears listed on a remodeledlove post in IG.) He also expresses interest in swinging, but I can't see myself doing that, at least partly b/c I've never had sex with anyone else. So sometimes, he's like, hurry up and have sex w/someone else, so that we can move on to threesomes and swapping and swinging. But I can't have sex with a stranger; I wouldn't mind having a FWB relationship but I at least need the friend part. I'm on an app, but I'm afraid to 'like' anybody. I've only liked 2 people but have not had any conversations with them. I'm not "talking to" anyone. I just fantasize, lol. And he's not ready for any new relationships, friend or otherwise, right now. So...where does that leave me? Where am I, and where do I go from here?

#deconversion #deconstruction #deconstructing christianity #2nd half of life #polyamory #nonmonogamy #fear #adrift #stuck #divinity

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nc-vb · 7 months ago

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ik you have a list of recommended manga and stuff, but what are your top favourites??? like your personal faves

I think I've read way too many in my life to make a sane list of them, but imma do my best LMAO (pls I have 1000 tabs open between my phone browser and private browser and my tablet ;-;). I'll give you both bl and straight manga/manhwa ok??

Sign (18+, bl)

This was one of my first bl manhwa I ever read (before I spiralled down the rabbit hole). IT'S SO SWEET, the mc Soohwa gets a job at the ml's cafe, and the ml Yohan is deaf-- Yohan loves when Soohwa signs at him, and Soohwa loves when Yohan talks, and they're both just so so cute, I love this manhwa with all my heart.

The manhwa is completed!!

2. Paljae, Child of Winter (shounen ai)

Where do I even begin with this one, holy shit... the art style would be gripping me by the balls if I had some. It gives a little of tcgf AND mdzs vibes tbh??? the mc Munryeong starts to take care of this tiny "child" he names Paljae but there's a couple of plot twists and surprises that I don't want to spoil, it's SO GOOD.

It's currently ongoing BUT it's on a break before it starts its third season!!!!

3. Pink Heart Jam (18+, bl)

Probably one of my favourite manga; I don't remember much of it so I'm going to reread it-- it's short, about 11 chapters? and it has to do with a band, but the mc and ml are *chef's kiss* wonderful

4. Payback (18+, bl)

I... have many words I could use to express my love for Payback. Jay and Yoohan are skskhsks I NEED A CERTAIN PLOT THING TO HAPPEN BUT IT'S KILLING ME THAT'S IT'S SLOW BURN. Lots of angst and unraveling of truths and facts and it's kind of a revenge story but GOD, those two are so hot, I blush, I blush.

5. Cherry Magic (18+ish, bl)

IT WAS SO GOOD THEY MADE AN ANIME AND A LIVE ACTION SHOW ABOUT THEM OKAY, THAT SAYS ENOUGH, MY CUTIE PATOOTIES AHHHHH

6. One Summer Day (18+, bl)

I just recently started this and it has 50+ chapters so far, but it's by the same artist etc. as Sign!!! it's really good. The mc died and then undied because of an accident he and a Grim Reaper cause, so he's in limbo, alive but is scheduled to re-die once his name gets re-added to a death list or something, but he had a lasting regret because he never had a relationship or anything further, so the Grim Reaper has to give him "organic energy" to calm down those "regrets"... hehehe.

7. The Guild Member Next Door (18+, bl)

I'm putting 18+ for now because I believe the novel for this has smut/sex scenes, but it just hasn't been drawn into the manhwa yet. It's super cute!!! mc plays an online game and meets the ml there, but they don't know who they are irl yet (there's 30 chapters), but the mc ends up moving next door to the ml and the ml thinks the mc is stalking him bc of some previous incidents due to this game-- it's cute. Just read it.

8. Dear Door (18+, bl)

EXTREMELY 18+ SHFSLKLS the ml has to engage in sexual frivolities with the mc in order to open a "door" to hell. This is a completed manhwa with 150+ chapters, a side story (iirc), and some really interesting plot twists. WARNING: this does also contain some dubcon/noncon stuff with certain characters (not including the mc and ml, but also kind of, it's weird). But the story ends on a good note, it's one of my favourites EVER.

9. A House for Samsami (18+, bl)

If you're a fan of hybrid, golden retriever-like characters, this one's for you! A veterinarian finds a stray hybrid on the street and takes him in, and I should reread this because I don't remember the details, but I love the characters, and I really recommend this one for its cuteness. Only 13 chapters so far, I believe; it's slow uploads.

10. Our Sunny Days (18+, bl)

PUREEEEEE PUREEEEE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AHHHHH

The mc is a single father after a woman he'd been with leaves him with a baby and leaves, and he moves into a small village town where he meets the ml who's like, the village chief, and they both start crushing on each other and sjhfsks d'aww it's just so sweet, I love them. The first season is done at 25 chapters!

11. Bailin and Li Yun & Fathoms of Atonement (bl)

Both of these are by the same artist and are both on Webtoon. They have shorter chapters and one of them just became a Webtoon Original (finally!!!). I won't spoil these ones much; both have to do with merman... enjoy~

12. Mimori's Naughty Mouth (18+, bl)

AHHHH SUPER HOT AND THE MC AND ML ARE HOT TOOOOO, ml is a dentist and mc has a sensitive mouth, like insanely sensitive, so going to the dentist is a nightmare for him... until he gets this dentist. Hehe.

Now for the straights *cracks fingers*

Do Androids Dream of Love? (18+)

After mc's father dies (or someone dies, idr), she's left an android to take care of her, and she's against it at first, but he's very sincere and kind and is programmed to want to take care of her, but he finds himself going against his coding a bit and starts falling in love with her and vice versa... vewy cute. Slow uploads, but long chapters; there's currently 16.

2. I Thought My Time Was Up!

Lariette, my cutie patootie, gets with another cutie patootie Duke, Asrahan, that happens to be cursed, and she happens to have the power to heal the curse, but she's not so strong that she can do it in one shot-- but she thinks she's dying in three months' time and makes a contract to date him for that time because she has a mini bucket list she'd like to complete with him. There's another character, Doha, who slowly falls for her as he heals her and helps train her in her magic. So so good, and Asrahan's blushing moments? oh my god. There's smutty themes, but nothing explicit since it's on Webtoon.

3. Iseop's Romance

Fuck me, reading this hurts my heart because the slow burn is reaaaaaaaal. The mc is the titular Iseop Tae's executive secretary and she's amazing at her job, something he has a complex about because they completed the same program together. The complex slowly turns into a crush and his internal monologues about it are the absolute funniest shit ever. It's on Webtoon at almost 40 chapters.

4. My In-Laws Are Obsessed with Me

SLOW BURN AS HELL I don't even think they've kissed in their almost 100 chapters?? The Lapileon family has a blood curse that kills anyone who touches the blood-- except the mc, Pereshati. I forget exactly why they agree to contract in marriage, I think it's to spite her own House or something, but all of the Lapileon's love Perry, and they start to investigate different things and Perry goes on a business venture-- it's so good, and I adore the art. Webtoon!

5. When Jasy Whistles

I remember crying when this went on its first break after the one season ended, like this story is so fucking good, I WEPT. Jasy Jatare is a rumoured "god" that steals people/children (for whatever reason), and Hela, the mc, has a friend (Rodrigo I think...) who is "taken" by him into a different world, one full of dangers and other tribes of people that either live beneath the thumb of the other gods there or are protected by some (very rare). Hela wants to get her friend back and works with Jasy on a certain condition-- at 100 chapters, a lot happens between them. Sexual themes but not explicit; again, this is on Webtoon.

6. Harem of Luu-Anh (18+, poly)

Ughhhh I love this series. The one on Webtoon is sfw BUT the artist has a Patreon where they post the 18+ series... It's worth it to become their Patron to see it all. The story is well over 100 chapters by now (I believe), plus the Patreon has additional stories having to do with Luu-Anh and her FOUR HUSBANDS, YEAH FOUR HUSBANDS AND THEY'RE ALL FUCKING HOT it's worth it whew.

7. Trapped

I have to catch up in this series... There's about 200 chapters to it, but Chae-A was dealt a shit hand through life and again when she runs into the ml who is a VAMPIREEEEE he's hot though, it's fine, and she's fiery, and it makes for a good enemy to lover story, I SWEAR BY IT.

8. Selina ~ Moon Bride ~

Whyever the fuck Webtoon hasn't turned this into an Original, I'll never get. It is so beautiful, the lore and the characters are so amazing, like... I can't even put into words how much I love and recommend this. Please go read it; it has 228 CHAPTERS Y'ALL AND IT IS A DELICIOUS READ, it's been going on since 2016 but the artist had taken a huge break in between; it updates a few times a month-- PLEASE GO READ AND SUPPORT IT!!! on Webtoon.

9. Tonari no Seki no Hen na Senpai~ (18+, yandere)

Guilty pleasure. Had to pop this in. WAITING FOR THAT EIGHTH FUCKING CHAPTER IS AS PAINFUL AS WAITING FOR A RAMEN CUP TO FINISH HEATING. The ml is obsessed and in love with the mc, and she's put off by it quite a bit because he goes overboard when she finds out, but he's a puppy dog yandere-- imma go read this again tn, tbh. Ahhhh I love it. Want it for myself. Sigh.

All of my other recommendeds is in this list!!

I hope you enjoy all of them; if you want to talk and squeal about them with me, my dms are always open~

#✦ nice chats.#manga recs #manhwa recs #bl manhwa

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skye-farer · 1 year ago

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twitter

what the fuckin bingle?

i don’t know how to use this site. honest to god everything here makes zero sense and perhaps that is a side effect of my serotonin-fucked brain glancing away from the vapid, algorithmic warzone permeating a culture of self-masturbating vitriol that ultimately amounts to very little and choosing to take that obsession to - oh, look at it - another blue app where i and everyone aboard are the product

it feels good!

opening this text tab was like a jolt of energy - zeus himself frying the discourse-fattened neurons and weaving out the creases of my cerebellum; a release. i like to express every nuance in what i say, and Two-Hundred and Forty Characters wasn’t on the best of terms with me as a result. writing is something i’ve done since i was about three. a blog format seems like something i want to tussle with. did you know for my irish exams years ago i had to write a blog in said language? it was terrible!

the point: twitter (and really, any social media) was/is a delicately woven spiral of infighting, spite, doomscrolling and What Have You. it is a bondage that is decimating lives; an addiction we’re only now starting to blame the company for as the products. you don’t need me to tell you this, dearest nonexistent reader, you know. really channeling the will wood song “You Liked This (Okay, Computer!)” right about now. i hate that song. it is not a song, it is spoken words by Bev Standing that incoherently spouts truths of the machinations before spiraling into a sampling of the subway jingle all the while a man makes sweet love to the dissonant side of a piano and synth nonsense wails away

i like getting sidetracked. i have room to think. i have room to express nonsense

know not does anyone if that darned muskrat will backpedal when he observes the steady leakage in the fluid that is twitter blue subscribers and active users but perhaps that damage is already done, or not, i don’t know. that man is a chaotic neutral creature and quite frankly i don’t care at this point. i’ll probably look again over there if it fixes. i don’t know, all my friends are there. it is a lot easier to respond to a fun life post than it is to crash on someone’s digital couch in a DM. i guess i’m a victim of the words i’ve said before, hm?

i’m not trying to really say anything, i am simply trying to speak

maybe i’ll stay here. i don’t know how to “reply”, what “notes” are, or how this site’s algorithm really works, yet something feels welcoming, as though i stepped into my late-grandmother’s living room again after all these years. it’s ephemeral, and for once perhaps i feel like i have the words to describe my feelings of.. anything.

i don’t know. i simply felt like releasing thoughts in a way that i actually can tonight now that the shackles have been shattered. like, two of my friends follow me here. i’m screaming into this anechoic chamber for an audience consisting of myself. i’m staring upon the moonlight above as though a horse lost in a mundane shorefront, wondering where the herd has gone. bless the torpedoes

no more real than you are

#word salad #thoughts #ramble #fuck you elon

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windvexer · 3 years ago

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You can literally just ask your ingredients/tools what they are best at, or if they'll be helpful in a specific spell, or for advice on how to best utilize them.

Yes, you can, right now. You can just do it, whether or not you're a spirit medium or can "visualize".

Don't get me wrong, I find cultural and historical research of correspondences to be very important. But also, just ask the thyme in your cupboard what it likes to do in its spare time. (Bonus points if you take notes and compare to your research later on)

Here's how I do it. I call it my "pinging" method, like how a modem pings a server. Here's how:

Prepare your question.

If you want to be polite, start with a, "hello, is anyone there?" Although admittedly this is more for animists. If you believe you're just reading energies and there is no indwelling spirit, why not get right to it?

Questions to explore utility and correspondences include:

"Magically speaking, what are you best at?"

"If I added you to this spell, how would you influence/affect it?"

"What kind of intents are you best at supporting?"

"What kind of magic do you not like to be involved in?"

"What other ingredients do you work well with?"

"What other ingredients do you not get along with?"

Focus on the thing which you would like to communicate with.

Avoid performing this technique on living animals, as it often scares them :(

Have it in your field of vision, or touch it, or do whatever you need to do in order to feel focused on it.

Observe, Believe, Feel, Understand, or Know, aka OBFUK (my handy acronym I use to replace "visualize," which I ordered that way because it kind of sounds like "oh f*ck," as in, "oh f*ck, the ubiquitous use of the word 'visualize' has caused many witches to be ironically equipped with blinders that require energy perception and control to be funneled through a filter of sightedness and images, which for many is counter-intuitive and detrimental to their practice"). Anyway -

Observe, Believe, Feel, Understand, or Know that the object which you would like to communicate with is aware of you and will hear you when you send your question.

Send your prepared question.

Speak or think your question to the object. OBFUK that the object receives your question.

Anticipate receiving the answer.

Listen, here's the downfall of this technique: You need a wee bit of open space in your mind. No, you don't have to be a meditator to do this technique (I did it for years before I began meditating). You just need enough space for the answer to arrive.

I have found that ideally, this means actively anticipating receiving your answer for 1-3 seconds.

This works on the same meditative trick as, "wait for your next thought to come and it never will." The force of anticipation itself is what creates an open platform for your answer to arrive at.

Your mind does not have to be "totally clear". You can have a lot of tabs open and still be able to pull off this technique.

Analyze what comes.

We will all get answers in different ways. Repeat: there is no golden standard for how you are "supposed" to receive your answer. Here are some ways your answer might appear to you:

Snippets of memories, songs, scenes, verses, or literature pop into your awareness.

A fully or partially formulated concept comes to you all at once.

You are strongly reminded of something (say, the god Aries, or a soothing woodland scene).

An image or images come to your mind's eye, either still or animated.

Nothing seems to come to mind at all, but certain things on your altar or around your house, or certain colors, suddenly stand out or seem especially relevant.

Nothing seems to come to mind, but you feel energy moving on or around you.

Nothing seems to come to mind, but you feel as if you can smell or taste something that wasn't there before.

It is unlikely that you will hear a voice in your mind that says, "hi, I'm Basil, and I'm good at..." Our particularly clairaudientally blessed friends may receive such information, but the rest of us are likely going to have to apply some level of interpretation to what we receive.

Be aware that if you're talking to something with an indwelling spirit, it may not be interested in trotting out answers to your question, and may have questions of its own, or something else it wants you to know instead.

Ask more questions, or say goodbye.

I believe good manners go a long way, so even if you feel you haven't received any answer, it's polite to send a message like, "thank you for your time, have a good day."

Your answers are now UPG.

I really want us all to understand this!

UPG stands for Unverified Personal Gnosis. It means that you have personally received information through spiritual means, however, that information is not necessarily agreed upon or accepted by anyone else but you.

Please don't go around sharing your UPG as if it is actually verified spiritual canon!

Even if that information is totally cohesive within your personally constructed spiritual system, I'm sorry, but your personal spiritual system is not universal.

If I have a communication session with my rosemary plant, and it tells me, "yes, I'm a plant of protection and dreams [community accepted correspondence], but that's only one side of me; I'm also a spirit of evil, nightmares, and destruction, and that's why I can also defend against them [unverified personal gnosis]," it is wildly misleading of me to go on Tumblr and post a new rosemary correspondence that includes "cursing, nightmares, and destruction" as if everyone needs to automatically accept and believe my own claims.

It is now on you to experiment with the information you receive, compare it to other resources, and decide if what you heard was valid, legitimate information for a certain group, tradition, or practice, or if it is untrue, or if it is only true for you.

Your UPG might end up being totally valid and verified by others (this is then called verified personal gnosis) and this is such an exciting, wonderful, and validating thing to experience.

However, every single time I have a question about a spirit or god, and someone says, "hold on, I'll ask them!" and comes back 5 minutes later with an answer they assume I should accept as canon, I want to reach through the screen and slap them.

Your spirit communication is not automatically spiritual canon, and should probably undergo many steps of testing and verification before EVEN YOU accept it as true.

Troubleshooting

"It isn't possible for me to complete the active anticipation portion, what could I do instead?"

This technique is specifically a telepathic one; you receive communication within your mind. If doing so on the fly isn't possible, I'd recommend trying an entirely different technique, such as asking the same questions through tarot or another divination system, or petitioning the ingredient for a dream.

"I don't think I'm receiving any answers, what do I do?"

Not all spirits want to talk to us. Or from a secular perspective, not everything is imbued with enough energy for us to get a reading, or that energy may be hard to access or understand.

Objects which are very often used in witchcraft, such as magical and culinary herbs, minerals, and animal parts, often have something to say. (Perhaps the reason they are used in magic is because they're so willing to work with us in the first place!)

You can also gently cleanse the object and offer it some incense or water, then invite the spirit/energies back, and see if that changes your results.

Or, you may need to try contacting it over several days, maybe also with feeding and cleansing, before it responds. (Remember, it takes the object energy to communicate with us, whether it is a spirit or just a lump of energy, something must be expended to send you a message).

Plus also: This technique is a skill you need to practice. If I tell you how to hold a guitar and how to make three cords, it's still going to take you a minute to strum out Wonderwall. I recommend a minimum of hours of practice before you write off your own psychic abilities.

"I don't know how to tell the difference between a spiritual answer and my own thoughts."

Practice, practice, practice - and verify. Also be patient and gentle with yourself, and move forward with the understanding that far from 100% of people are magically born with thought patterns clear, regular, or tame enough to easily (or ever) track.

Perhaps the best way to move verify is to communicate with common ingredients in witchcraft, ask them for information, and then verify it against information online. Don't give up too quickly; common correspondence lists are often oversimplified to the point of uselessness. Your herb might have given you a snippet of information commonly ignored by mainstream witchcraft.

"I'm only getting invalid answers - my rose quartz told me it's used for blood magic and banishing."

Try cleansing and charging objects before you read on them. For beginners, it may be difficult to discern whether you're contacting an object, or the energies it's sucked up or wallowed in.

There may be an indwelling spirit or energy "haunting" the object and returning invalid or silly answers. Try reading on different objects and see if your luck improves.

You may be particularly psychically closed off. When I don't properly connect, I get all kinds of nonsense that seems like a real answer, when it's just my random thought generator (un)helpfully trying to fill in the blanks. General practice of divination and spellwork will assist you. I would avoid using this technique to practice, as it may confuse your discernment to accept your inner voice as external communication. Set it aside and come back to it after a couple of months and see if there are changes.

Similarly, the spirit might just not want to talk to you, or isn't present in the item (or, the energies you seek to understand don't exist in that item).

The spirit may be giving you valid information that most people just don't agree with. My UPG for rosemary is that it is sort of an "uncrossing" agent for your life in general - part of the way it protects you is to align things around you so that misfortune is diverted. It's not a good luck charm, this is just how it achieves its goal of protection. This isn't totally off the wall; I think almost everyone agrees that rosemary is protective, powerful, and "high vibrations." But I don't think I'm going to find anyone else talking about how rosemary works the way it does, so I'm not going to be able to cross-check this anyway. But even if they do, they might talk about a different aspect of rosemary or something else it does. So I'm caught in a limbo where this information is true for me and the plant works that way every time I use it, but I can still never verify that with my community. If your answers aren't totally out of left field, you may be receiving genuine information about how the object wants to work with you. But that doesn't mean you will ever be able to verify that with your community.

#spirit communication #pinging method #spirit work #psychic readings #witchcraft 101 #witches of tumblr #animism #correspondences #witch tips #psychism #spirits #communication #spirit masterpost #divination masterpost #tbl

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 3 years ago

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Meant To Be (iii)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: After meeting Garcia you make quick work of helping with the case, desperate to prove yourself to Hotch. Once the two of you help the team wrap everything up it’s time for them to return home. Which also means it’s time for you and Hotch to talk. One on one.

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.

Word Count: 5,288

A/N: I wanna say I’m super happy you guys are enjoying this series cause honestly I’m having a lot of fun writing it! I love you all dearly. (If you’re just now finding this series, that’s perfectly alright! I’m glad you’re here! Feel free to catch up and enjoy the rest of the story. Here’s a link to Part 1 and Part 2 of Meant To Be.)

The elevator ride to the bottom floor of the building was quick, allowing you to make your way to Garcia’s office in a matter of minutes. There was a plaque up next to the door, indicating that you were in the right place. Taking a moment to steady yourself you exhale before knocking on the door. A voice on the other side tells you to come in so you do. Around you are dozens of impressive looking monitors, all of which are doing something different. On top of the long L-shaped desk there were several small trinkets and toys, bringing a sort of life into the dark room. The woman sitting in front of you spins around in her chair to look at you, a quick flash of confusion on her face. She looks extremely kind and everything about her appearance makes you want to smile.

“Hello. My name is Y/N L/N. Are you Penelope Garcia?”

“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?” Once you’re sure you’re in the right place you step forward to shake her hand. She stands so that you are both on the same level now, shifting awkwardly.

“Sorry to barge in like this. Everything has gone pretty fast this morning. I’m a new agent for the BAU. Today is my first day. The rest of the team just left on a case and SSA Hotchner asked me to stay behind and help from here.” Her face lights up with a bright smile.

“Oh, that’s awesome! It’s really nice to meet you! Please come in, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” With this, she pulls another chair up to the desk and then sits back down in her own. “I didn’t actually know we had any new agents joining us. That being said, welcome! I’m almost always here by myself so the company will be nice. You and I can get to know each other.” You nod with a smile, watching her as she continues what she was doing. There are several different tabs open across the screens with loads of information that she seems to be compiling. When she sees your incredulous face she laughs.

“I know, it’s a lot. I’m just trying to get as much preliminary information as I can to send to the team. That’s what you’ll be helping me with. We collect research, data, important records. Anything they need to find out, we provide. Kind of cool, right?” Remaining silent, you nod. Upon seeing this, Garcia stops typing for a moment. “I know it may not seem as exciting as field work but it’s still very important. Don’t worry, I’ll make it fun. I promise you won’t be bored.” Patting your knee, she continues typing and you watch carefully now. This is where you will be until the case is over so you intend to make the absolute best of it. Everyone on the team has their own special skills and now is the time to learn from Garcia.

“So what exactly are you looking for right now?”

“I am compiling a list of the victim’s friends and family, plus witnesses from the robberies who might be able to give us any information. This will give the others a clear list of where to go first. I’m also seeing what I can find about the people who were at the banks on the days of the robberies in case there’s anything useful they need to know. Financial troubles, criminal records, anything to possibly link the witnesses to one another.” Scooting your chair forward so you can see better, you lean an elbow on the desk.

“What can I help with?” You ask hopefully.

“Oh, I think that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t even count on one hand how many times I’ve had someone down here and all they do is sit and look over my shoulder. Sorry, rambling. I can get you logged into a monitor here and it looks like the next thing on my list was looking into the victim’s workplace. Sound good?”

“Yes, absolutely.” She moves over quickly and gets a separate monitor opened so you can begin researching.

“We’ll probably do what research we can in the next twenty to thirty minutes and then we’ll call the team to tell them what we’ve found out.” With that, you make quick work of doing everything you can in the time you have. Even if it is the last thing you ever do, you will prove to Aaron Hotchner just how valuable a team member you are.

++++++++++

The jet takes off fairly soon once the team is onboard. They all stow their go-bags and begin settling in for the flight. It is going to be a longer one today so they are all preparing themselves for the journey. Aaron finds a seat near a far window where he sets the case file down in front of himself and begins reading. His mind is swimming with thoughts and he will do anything to quiet them. The scene plays out over and over in his head, the memory still painfully fresh. Why had he said those things? He was unnecessarily harsh and he is fully aware of this. Now the first memory you’ll have of starting your dream job will be your new boss treating you appallingly. What had even compelled him to speak to you that way? Seeing you had overwhelmed him. The way you looked when you came into his office for the first time. The way your hair framed your face, the light hopefulness in your eyes, the way you captivated him with your movements. Standing there, just feet away from him, you had looked just as beautiful as the first day he met you. God, why did he lie like that? How could he have said he didn’t recognize you when you had stayed in his thoughts more times than he would like to admit over the past year? All the emotions he felt at the mere thought of you made him nauseous and he had no way of understanding them. As badly as he felt for it, he knew that for the time being it would be best to let you work from the BAU headquarters.

“Hotch, are you okay?” JJ’s voice brings him quickly back to reality. The fact that she could see how deeply in thought he was makes him feel an odd sense of shame and he straightens in his seat.

“Of course, I’m fine.” With this, she goes back to her own seat. With a huff of exhaustion, Hotch continues reading. The cabin is silent for a time as the other team members sit reading their case files.

“So,” Morgan’s voice breaks the quiet. “What do we think of Y/N?” The mention of your name causes Hotch to perk up against his will.

“Well, I like her.” Emily is the first to chime in. “I know you guys all got to meet her before me but there’s just something about her. An inherent sweetness. I’m really excited to work with her.”

“Me, too,” JJ says next. “I thought she was kind and open. In this job, that kind of personality is hard to find. I just hope the things she sees doesn’t cause her to lose that. The world needs more kind people, not less. She seems tough though. I think she can handle it.”

“I totally agree,” Morgan adds, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “She’s got a little bit of fierceness in her but I like that. You’ve gotta be tough to do this job but she’s also sweet. That’s important too. Plus, that kid’s got the cutest smile. Kind of reminds me of my sisters.” At the mention of your smile, Hotch closes his eyes briefly trying to picture that smile directed at him. He quickly catches himself and looks back down at the file.

“Well, I can’t say I know her that well yet but she seems intelligent. She certainly has eagerness to learn. I think that will help her be successful. It’s very ... refreshing.” Spencer says with a small smile.

“I agree. Right off the bat she’s got a very likable energy,” Rossi begins letting himself trail off for a moment. “Although, I have to say there is something about her that is so familiar. I can’t quite place how I might know her though. Her name too, I recognize it. For a second I thought she recognized me too but I can’t be sure.” The rest of the team watches him for a moment as he tries to recollect how he knows you but he quickly comes up blank. “I’m sure I’ll think of it eventually. Nevertheless she seems like a good kid. I’m excited to see her at work. Just a shame we’ll all have to wait.”

Hearing this Aaron shifts in his seat, knowing that the comment is directed at him since he was the one that made you stay behind. He is suddenly very aware of the other team members looking at him.

“Yeah, Hotch. Why isn’t she here? I thought for sure you’d wanna see what she can do.” Derek locks eyes with Aaron, causing him to debate how to answer the question. All his life Hotch has worked to control his feelings and the way that they manifest so his face remains expressionless as he thinks for a short second.

“I think that for right now her time would be better spent helping Garcia and getting used to her new environment. I agree that she does seem very intelligent and more than capable. I would just like to speak with her one on one first before thrusting her into the high intensity atmosphere that comes with our line of work.” However, this answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Morgan’s curiosity.

“She told me when she came out of your office that you said you didn’t remember her. Is that true?” This continued line of questioning makes his blood begin to boil. Aaron Hotchner of all people knows that lies are what cause the foundations of trust to crumble. If he can’t be honest with himself, how can he expect to be honest with his team? And yet, he finds himself unable to expose his own misdeed.

“Yes, that is correct. We’ve had a lot of cases come and go in the last few years and no one should be expected to remember every interaction they have in that length of time. According to her it was only one day and it was a long time ago at that. I apologized to her and she understood. That is the end of it.”

“Look, I’m not passing judgement Hotch. I’m just saying I can understand why she was so hurt,” Hearing this causes his heart to clench. “She looks up to you. She didn’t even have to tell me that, I could just see it. You mentored her in a time that was very uncertain, when she had a lot to prove. She still has a lot to prove and I’m sure she thought that you would have her back and the first thing you tell her is that you don’t even remember who she is? I get it man, you’re under a lot of stress right now but she’s a part of your team. I just thought you of all people would be a little more sensitive than that.”

His words cut right through Aaron’s heart like a knife but before he has a chance to say anything the laptop screen in the center of the cabin lights up, revealing you and Garcia. Glad for a break from the tension the rest of the team members look toward the screen. With one last glance at Morgan, Hotch leans towards him. “We will discuss this later.” His voice is firm and dangerous but he pulls away to look at the laptop. “What did you find?” He directs at the two of you.

Seeing him causes you to straighten in your seat as you ready yourself to put on your most professional face. Garcia begins telling everyone what she was able to find out about the victim. She has significantly more information than you do but once she’s done she allows you to share what you found. The victim worked at a local grocery store but he had been previously employed at the bank where the robbery took place. The team begin building a rough profile based on the information. You listen closely to their analysis of the unsubs, making mental notes on what you might add to the profile. Before you have a chance to add anything, Hotch thanks the two of you for your work and hangs up. For a moment, you could swear you saw a hint of sadness when he looked at you but you were sure it was just a glitch on the screen.

“Sorry sweetpea. I could totally tell you wanted to add something. They can be pretty abrupt like that sometimes.” You simply give a small shrug. “Well, why don’t you tell me what it was? It’ll give you a little practice for building profiles.” She scoots to the edge of her chair, looking at you intently to which you give a small laugh.

“Well, as we know all of the unsubs are large burly men. The five of them could easily subdue the few weaker people that were present at each of the robberies and yet they chose to bring guns. I believe this shows that they feel a certain sense of inadequacy in their everyday lives. Despite their masculine appearance I would suspect they all have mediocre jobs where they are looked down upon or treated poorly. It’s possible that they all work at the same place but I would imagine they probably met somewhere else. Maybe a support group of some sort. The use of weapons gives them a sense of power over the victims that helps them live out their mass fantasy. The victim of the last crime scene was shot in the head which indicates some personal relationship between him and the unsub who pulled the trigger. That could be a good place to start.”

“Well, it definitely makes sense to me. Maybe we can start looking in to possible support groups for these type of men. Oh, and anyone that might possibly have had reason to kill our victim.” Garcia immediately begins typing and you scoot closer to her side.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the order from Hotch?” She laughs at this.

“Trust me, sweetheart. At the end of the day he’s gonna thank us for the head start. One thing to know about the boss man. He likes to see initiative but he also wants you to follow his exact orders. It’s a fine balance but once you figure out how to work the line, he’s gonna love you for it.” The thought of Hotch loving you for anything at all in the world makes your heart flutter. Almost instantly you stop that train of thought and berate yourself for even entertaining it.

“Well, I guess we better get started then.” The rest of the day goes smoothly. You and Garcia coordinate everything beautifully, finding a good amount of information that you save to send to Hotch at the most convenient time. The day seems to be over almost as quickly as it began and you thank Garcia before heading out to your car. The drive home seems to be much more monotonous than before. It seems like you’re back inside your apartment and stretched out on the couch before you can hardly blink. Rolling over, you reach for your phone which you had thrown on the coffee table. With a groan, you begin dialing your sister’s number. As much as today sucked there was no one in the world you’d rather vent to than your sister.

“Well hey there babe. I’ve been patiently awaiting your call. Give me just a minute to get sat down. I want to hear every last detail.” There are sounds of shuffling on the other side of the phone as she finds a seat. “Okay, I’m all good. Now, tell me about your first day at the BAU! Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Yeah, not exactly,” You laugh. “It was kind of rough to be honest.” There is a moment of silence as you think how to begin.

“Okay. Start at the beginning, walk me through it.”

“Alright. Well, I got inside and I was honestly just in awe of being there, just getting to stand in that room. It felt like I was invincible. Derek Morgan was the first one to talk to me. He was just as charming as I remembered. Anyway, he introduced me to the rest of the team and we got to talk for a bit which was really nice, you know? From the get go I really felt like part of the team.”

“Now you know I hate to interrupt but all of this sounds great!”

“Yeah, well, that was the best part of the day and it didn’t last very long. After I met everyone I went up to Aaron Hotchner’s office to give him my paperwork. I’m sure you know by now that I was pretty excited to see him again, right? Well, when I told him how excited I was to be working with him again he told me that he didn’t actually know who I was. He completely forgot about me. I mean, I guess I get it. It’s been a year and a half and he meets a lot of people. Why would he remember me specifically?”

“Y/N, don’t invalidate your own feelings. What he said upset you and it’s okay to be hurt. That would have hurt my feelings too. You’re a really great person and he sucks for not thinking about you ever since he met you.” Hearing this, you can’t help but laugh a bit. Her ability to defend you no matter what always cheers you up.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I just wish he thought the same. Anyway, I gave him my paperwork so I could travel with the team. They got a case this morning and I was planning to go with them but for some reason Hotch made me stay behind even though I am cleared to be in the field. It just really bummed me out because I was super ready to get out there and start working but I got benched for my very first case. He had me stay with this girl named Garcia, she’s the team’s technical analyst. I mean, she’s really sweet and we worked super well together but I just wish I could have been out there doing the things that I spent seven years of my life training for.”

“I am so sorry. That sucks. I know how excited you were. Look at the bright side, this is only your first case. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to get out there and prove yourself. It’s all gonna work out.” Unable to keep from smiling, you roll over on your side.

“Thanks. I really hope you’re right.” Sensing the fact that you’re still upset she decides to help by changing the subject.

“So, who all did you meet today? I know you already knew a few of the team members but was there anybody new?”

“Yeah, Elle and Gideon are no longer there. I’m really sad I missed getting to work with them but the people I met seem really amazing. The first girl I met was named Emily Prentiss. She was really nice. The other was a guy named David Rossi.” When you finish your sentence there is nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. You wait a minute for your sister’s response but there is nothing. Before you can ask what’s wrong she chimes in again.

“Did you say David Rossi?” There is a tone in her voice that you don’t recognize and it causes concern to stir in your stomach.

“Yeah, why? What’s up?” There is another moment of silence.

“It’s -- it’s nothing. I shouldn’t bring it up. You’ve already had a rough day.” As if she can sense your anxiety she continues. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I promise I’ll tell you later, okay? I just don’t think we should talk about it right now, that’s all.” As much as you want to pry you can tell that no matter how much you ask, you’re not getting the answer out of her. With a sense of unease you agree and try changing the conversation again. Once you’ve changed the topic to something other than work you can feel her ease again and the two of you talk for nearly 45 minutes. After a while you decide to call it a night and shortly afterwards you find yourself in bed. You hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until your head hit the pillow. Your sleep is dreamless which you decide in the morning is probably a good thing.

++++++++++

The remainder of the case is spent hunkered down in Garcia’s office either doing frantic research or simply getting to know one another. In just a short while the two of you become very fast friends. You realize quickly that you share a lot of common interests and all of your conversations are endlessly fascinating. It also doesn’t take you very long to realize that you actually enjoy the work that you do with her. There is quite a bit of skill required to dig as deeply and accurately as the two of you do. It is a race against the clock to find everything you need in order to help the team and there is a certain level of excitement that comes with that. Of course you still wish you were out in the field but in the end you learn a lot and make a good friend along the way. The case ends rather succinctly with all five unsubs found and arrested with no more casualties along the way. It’s a good feeling, knowing that you helped to catch the bad guys and no one had to die for you to do so. The day the team is set to return you and Garcia head out for coffee before they show up, figuring that you deserve a little treat after all of your hard work. You make light conversation as you make your way back into the building just in time for the team to arrive. You watch them each make their way to their desks, setting down their bags and taking a moment to rest. Of course the last one to walk in is Hotch who heads straight up to his office, shutting the door behind him.

When you feel like it’s an appropriate time you make your way over to Morgan’s desk. Upon seeing you his lips crack into a wide smile.

“Well hey sweetheart! I have to say, you did awesome work on this case.” As he says this, he extends his hand for a high five which you quickly grant him. “I know it wasn’t easy having to sit out but you did great. I’m proud of you.” It takes everything in you not to blush.

“Thanks. I learned a lot and I made a good friend along the way.”

“Yeah, Garcia’s pretty great isn’t she?” He says with a knowing smile.

“She definitely is. She talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Baby girl just can’t stop thinking about me. Not that I blame her, of course.” At this you lightly punch his arm.

“You are both such teases.” This makes Morgan laugh.

“We gotta keep things interesting.” He leans forward as though he’s about to start his paperwork but he quickly leans back to look at you. “Hey, now that I’m back we gotta go out for drinks tonight. Everyone else is already game so long as you are.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You confirm with a grin.

“Great. You know, I’d say I’m buying but I kind of feel like you owe me.” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I was trying to get some answers for you so I asked Hotch why he wouldn’t let you on the case and he royally chewed me out for it. In his defense I probably shouldn’t have asked in front of the rest of the team but that decision still just doesn’t sit right with me.” Morgan’s words mingle in your head. It doesn’t sit right with you either but it isn’t really your place to question your boss’ orders.

“I’m sorry he got upset with you. I do appreciate you defending me though. You’re my knight in shining denim.”

“Anytime kid. I’m happy to help.” Getting to talk to Morgan has almost instantly lifted your spirits. However, it doesn’t take long for your heart to drop into your stomach.

“Agent L/N. May I speak to you in my office please?” You hadn’t even noticed that Hotch had come out of his office until his voice drew your attention to him. With a quick look at Morgan, who gives you a reassuring glance, you push yourself off his desk and make your way over to where Hotch is standing. Once you’re at his side he extends a hand, allowing you to step inside first. He follows quickly, shutting the door behind him. “Please, have a seat.” He says, gesturing towards a leather couch on the far wall. As you begin to sit on one end he takes up residence on the other, his knee just inches away from yours. Once you’re both settled he focuses all of his attention on you. He doesn’t seem angry but you aren’t holding your breath. It’s best to just stay professional and speak with him earnestly.

“I’m glad to see you all back safely sir.” You begin. After the stress of the case, you want to make sure he knows that as hurt as you were by his previous decision you harbor no ill will towards him.

“Thank you. It’s not very often that cases end as well as this one did. You understand that, don’t you? This was a special circumstance.”

“Yes, I realize that. I’m just grateful that it did end happily even if it was just this once.” There is an intensity in the way he watches you.

“Good. I just want to make sure you fully know what to expect.”

“I do sir. I did the day that I applied for school. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Staying silent for a moment he nods as if in thought.

“I know before I left I said we would be able to talk. I’d like to learn a little bit more about you and from there I’ll be able to evaluate your abilities before taking you into the field. I know it wasn’t the decision you were hoping for but I hope you understand it nonetheless.”

“Of course. It’s not my place to question you and in the end I learned a lot from Garcia. Plus she was nice to work with.”

“Good. I’m very glad to hear that you were able to make the most of the situation.” He stops for a moment, his gaze relaxing. “I wanted to tell you how well you did on this case. A challenge was presented to you and you handled it with grace. The information you provided was incredibly helpful and your suggestions were very well thought out. I was very impressed.” The softness in his eyes as he praises you leaves a fluttering sensation in your stomach. Throughout the entirety of the case you had been so hell bent on proving yourself to him and hearing him say that you had done well made every hour of hard work worth it. As much as your heart is singing you have to remind yourself to be calm. Even though he is being kind to you now, he had made his feelings known to you during your first meeting. There is no reason to read into things. Clearly he doesn’t feel what you feel.

“Thank you sir. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed when I was left behind but I realized that I’m grateful to be here no matter what. I worked really hard to get here, to be doing this kind of work, and not everyone gets the chance to do what they’re truly meant to be doing. As heartbreaking as the outcome of this job usually is, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.” With every word the two of you are locked into one another’s eyes. For a moment you can almost swear he is holding his breath.

“I appreciate that sense of purpose. I will always support my team but it makes it easier with members who are invested.”

“I am. Completely. I’m here. I know you haven’t gotten a real chance to see me work but please know that my heart is in this.”

“That was never in question,” Hotch pauses, letting his eyes fall to his lap as he considers his next sentence. “I believe now that I made a rash decision in asking you to stay behind. I can see that you are mentally prepared to be in the field. I apologize for my harsh words. I of course can’t say anything for your physical performance yet but I won’t be able to evaluate the full extent of your abilities until I am able to watch you in the field. On the next case I would like you to join the rest of the team.” A breath of relief leaves your lips.

“Of course. I’m ready to get to work.”

“I know. You’ll have the chance soon enough. In the meantime, if you have any questions or concerns feel free to come speak with me.”

“Thank you sir.” Hotch simply nods in response, beginning to stand. You follow his actions, gathering that he is done with the conversation. As you make your way to the door, feeling much lighter than when you came in, he stops you.

“Agent L/N,” The sound of his voice causes you to turn back. “I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry for not remembering you. I never meant to hurt you. It isn’t that you were forgettable. It’s just that a lot has happened in the last year.” This apology seems much more heartfelt than before and you try to hide a smile.

“I forgive you, sir.” With that you take your leave, making your way right back to Morgan’s desk. The shift in your mood must be palpable because he looks up at you with a smile.

“That’s not the face of someone that just got yelled at by Hotch.”

“No, no he didn’t yell at me. He was just telling me I did a good job and he cleared me to work in the field on the next case.”

“Good for you, kid. I’m glad we’re finally gonna get a chance to see what you can really do,” Nodding you rest against the edge of his desk again. “Now, see? That wasn’t too bad was it?” Looking back towards Hotch’s office you can see him bent over his desk, filling out paperwork. Being able to watch him for a moment without fear of falling apart allows you to crack a small smile.

“No. I guess it wasn’t.”

Tags: @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut @ohpedromypedro @ssahotchie @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster @maxlordd @pascalisthepunkest @paintballkid711 @hotchafterhours @h0tchner @ssahotchswife @ssahotchhner @technotic-prophecy @klinenovakwinchester @hotch-stufff @annadorothxa @canadailluminate @yoshigguk @gothicxbarbie @romanogersendgame

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tofumedic · 3 years ago

Text

Brothers + Diavolo w/ a selectively mute GN!MC

summary: how well the brothers would be able to deal with you being selectively mute and how they respond to you talking to them !

Lucifer

Other than Diavolo, he may be the only one to know beforehand as helping in the organization of the RAD program, however it may only be overlooked if it is not present in any kind of record like schooling or medical.

When you first come into Devildom, your D.D.D. may be used as a sort of translation object between you and those present.

He is a little peeved in the beginning before you are able to explain it, he would regain his calm but would see it as a small setback to how he expected orientation to go.

Other than that he quickly learns about you and how you work so that he can work with you while trying not to dote on you!

The one that would gift you small portable whiteboards and markers if you had a preference over it for typing, professional though only dark blue and black inked markers <//3

Your first words to him are probably about answering a question or a summons, he does a lot of both but don't call him out for being clingy okay

Anyways

If this man is standing or getting up to greet you expect him to stumble, just slightly catching himself on the edge of his office desk or resting a hand against the wall

When he meets your eyes you can see there's a pinch of panic of "you did not just see that please tell no one" that melts back into "oh my god???????"

He's quick to relax back into what he wanted to talk to you about, not wanting you too feel anxious or guilty for however long it took for you guys to have a mutual trust and safety net.

For the rest of the day his face remains in this pleasant smile and everyone except Asmo and Beel are suspicious, Mammon being especially on edge.

If they call him out on what has him so happy today he will brush them off for being nosy about what isn't their worries but the small blush that rises to his face as he crosses his arms does not help his case.

Mammon

He is all of your noise

He gets forgetful and will try to have conversations across the house by yelling at you only to barge into your room in his petty fake anger just to see your face either amused at him or completely deadpan and he just ....🧍‍♂️

He gets anxious about leaving anywhere without his D.D.D. now what if his human needs him while he's not "bothering" you

Takes extreme pride in helping you order food when you go out places whether with his brothers or just alone, he loves it. Not only does he get an excuse to sit by your side and lean into your shoulder to see what menu item you're pointing at but it means he also has less worry about, he likes being close by to help you just in general.

Your first words are probably involving some drama he was mourning over earlier that day, probably with Lucifer or being the butt of the joke with another brother.

If Lucifer would stumble, expect this man to fully fall. God forbid you two are walking down the stairs instead of him rolling off the edge of your bed or just plopping on the carpet.

He would be so excited, his cheeks are burning even though you may have not even complimented him those words are gonna be ingrained to his memory maybe even written down in his notes app.

But he will downplay how happy he is that out of all of them he was the first you talked to, because of course it would be him the great Mammon and your first man it just made sense.

He's over the moon he won't flex it unless you start being verbal with more of his brothers he doesn't want them to pressure you into speaking no matter how much the urge bubbles up while Asmo is talking about how you would rather match outfits with him that others

Leviathan

He doesn't mind that much, at the beginning of your relationship he is very shy and doesn't really start talking unless something reminded him of one of his shows or games

Will gain a habit of just texting you instead of asking you a question outloud, just because he thinks its more polite and understands as in sometimes it's too much energy to open his mouth to speak

Teaches you phrases from his games, basically call outs, as an extra layer of code to let you know if you're camping out in his room that he is gonna leave for a package (going to spawn camp) or food (healing) etc

He does get jealous saying it's unfair about Mammon helping you order stuff in the "irl" while absolutely being too nervous to do it for himself as well

You two have your own codes for entering each others room, knocking to the tune of a popular sound effect from a game you play together for the ease but he enjoys when you try to do the beginning of an ost or girl group song and he tries to guess it

Your first words for him are probably you entering his room with some snacks or having picked up a package for him from his door, his response to you entering would be asking you to hold on this match or episode was almost done

So when you give out hum and either let him know you're staying or you're signing off (leaving) it's an insta-death, his attention is caught so fast

His posture extremely straight from his hunched focus as he speedquits his match closing every tab back to desktop before standing up on his wobbly legs and giving you the most affection he can handle of having that without warning

He gives you a small headbutt, pushing his forehead into your shoulder as he controls his breathing. He can't handle it that's like finale love interest marrying the protag and you hit him with it so lightly.

He wouldn't change his preference of texting you questions as it's something he's still comfortable with and you speaking to him makes him feel like he's reached masters rank without losing any matches

Satan

He is your best bet for knowing sign language, he finds it interesting that there are so many regional variations has tucked his knowledge of them into his big ol head

His movements would be hesitant as he's mentally dusting off the memory of practice but he is very good at it, though he wouldn't be more than only a pinch disappointed if you didn't prefer that way.

He be more interested in you in the beginning before learning about your magical presence and the pact hunt, it's unusual to him and he likes the study

Picks up small things that are unnoticeable to everyone but you about small habits and things that barely make it easier, like remembering to rebuke Mammon when he goes to order but forgets you don't like a certain ingredient and asks for it to be removed himself.

Would ask if you would like to learn Devildom's concept of sign language, maybe just quick easy signs for going about RAD tasks and classes

Your first words are probably said to him in the safety of his study, surrounded by books or even your homework while he reads

MC i love you very much but i feel like it would be something really stupid or cursed along the lines of

"I'm tired of people making Frankenstein's creature ugly he's literally written to be sexy" or "Why are people so attracted to Dracula he's supposed to ugly af >:/"

He would be.. very nonchalant about the fact it was you speaking to him and acting like he was talking to one of his brothers and going against you in the argument until he picks up those books to prove his side to be like "oh."

He needs a moment after such a not so public embarrassment so it would be later while you're both laying in your respective rooms and he's going over it in his head and then it hits him. It also hits that it was perhaps the most unromantic way it could have gone but it makes him smile into his pillow.

He has it as a secret weapon against Lucifer but he likes knowing something his brother doesn't

He can't look at you for too long the next day but will use the two figures of your mock argument to lightly bully you being soft on you in the comfort he wanted you to know was returned

"In case of argument, you would make a very good creation made in such a pleasing image"

Asmodeus

He is willing to fill up space for conversations for you also, he has a lot to say but will still ask you questions and for your input so you're included

He thinks the whiteboard concept is very cute! He would be the one to get you little accessories like a bag just for that and your markers or a strap for it. He would also be the one to get you more marker colors, you having just black and dark blue is unforgivable

Enjoys asking you how you're feeling, in a way that's easier if you didn't want to write or type it all out is giving him a number between 1-10. 10 is for your absolute worst like if you are having a day that you can't get out of bed or 1 where you're feeling really good like nothing can hurt you.

Doesn't force you to go out and party with him in case it's bad for your nerves or there's a worry demons will rude about "their advances being ignored."

Likes being close to you, so you can write in a notes app or use some other alternative other than texting where he might not see it getting buried by other messages.

Asmo would enjoy either holding hands or wrapping his arm around yours of your non dominant side, he makes good by staying on that side when he's going for affection or just to be in your bubble.

You talking to him for the first time would probably being during an outfit review or ordering new face masks off of Akuzon.

And he would melt, pelting you with kisses smothering every empty inch of your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose he's so happy

Whatever you were doing or looking at becomes his favorite, a fit he wears when he feels down to keep him happy, or using a specific brand of nail polish or face mask specifically due to the memory

Would find any lisp or rasp overwhelmingly adorable, of course it fits his angel you sound undeniably perfect. Loves how conversations sound with your two voices mixing together.

Beelzebub

He wouldn't completely understand but he isn't rude about it, his actions remaining normal to how he usually acts

If you wanted to learn their version of sign language he would try with you no matter if it was a struggle to fit into his schedule between the gym and spending time with Belphie and RAD and anything else but wouldn't want you to do it alone

He would keep you safe from anyone who had a problem with it, he's used to Belphie not wanting to talk to people other than him so he would be able to handle it especially if you two had similar gestures you used

Beel is also quite quiet in his own other from rumblings or dislike about being yelled at, he's good at still talking and holding his ground in arguments too but affection with him would be extra quiet compared to extra brothers

Your silence other than shuffles or small laughs, it's comforting like a sense of calm. It makes him think of your human dream catchers always quiet yet supposedly helpful and healing

You may verbally ask for a treat or some of his snack he brought for you two instead of a small gesture if your arms are trapped in the cuddle position you've been stuck in and any food he was eating would pause. Giving him a second he would easily give you all that was left

"Not hungry anymore" he would say his eyes warm before closing with his warm smile, he melts more into you like a jacket to let you feel how warm his heart was.

You were always special even if as an agent of chaos with some of the phrases you would drop, and he would adopt into his vocabulary and even further speaking for you in situations you couldn't

Belphegor

Belphie when you first met would give you a different gaze, in a slight squint almost breaking his image of being a helpless human but he would override it, continuing on like normal

At the beginning he may have even less belief in you getting pacts with his brothers but you still prove you're capable and things are normal for how he would treat you, not really changing just like Beel.

For a man (demon) to say actions are stronger than words, he certainly strains his ears just in case you answer his question in that way not that you would know and i certainly did not let you know ok??? cool cool

Other than that he really doesn't mind!!! You and Beel are really his top two people he has interest in being with and you being mute wouldn't change anything ! He may seek you more for naps outside of his room or the attic you don't move as much as Beel does as long as he doesn't curl up over your arms

In the privacy of one of your rooms- whether Asmo and Mammon are out on the town or in his while Beel is at the gym or somewhere else- is your first words spoken as softly as you can to him

Him laying across you with his head resting with his mouth close to your collarbone and ear resting almost on your neck he can feel the vibration in your vocal cords, you were probably asking him to move

Which you probably thought he was doing but any movement was so he could be closer to that feeling of your words if you spoke again, his knees tucking up while his toes curl

You wouldn't be able to fully process just how important that action was to him, you trusted him and felt safe and could let words out to him, after everything that was real forgiveness.

Diavolo

Him just looking over and encouraging you being chosen by Lucifer, he probably would not know unless again it was strongly present in your transcripts

He would find it interesting, it was your first surprise to him and filled him with mirth at the concept of seeing Lucifer tense in confusion his feathers absolutely ruffled

Though while you were already human which meant your interactions were sure to be interesting to him, the way you interacted was also completely different from Solomon, he would love giving you his time no matter how Barbatos would sigh already seeing it before it went into motion

It may mean a little extra work for Lucifer but he wouldn't complain he did a good job picking you for Diavolo to enjoy your company so much even if he was slightly worried on your influence on him

For doting only predict help with fixing the RAD program and making your class experience more accessible, if he tries to help too much someone would certainly have a word with him

He's known being compassionate, he just wants it to be easy for you as it is probably hard enough on you between the brothers, school, and being selectively mute

He barely uses his D.D.D. but if you prefer using that it's no problem though do give him awhile to type out his long messaged questions instead of asking them on call

First words with him may be said on a trip out to explore or in his castle during a private moment in the retreat or in his office

No matter the context it would be a mood booster, he would compliment you you're voice is perfect to him it matches the image you've shown so far

It's a delight, you never fail to surprise him he may repeat your words in his own voice laugh resting on his breath. He'd ask you to stay a little longer if he can get away with it, and if he can't he surely will try

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years ago

Text

Everything's Bigger In Texas

Summary: You decide to drive up to Dallas to surprise your old high school buddy, Jared, while he’s there for a convention.

Pairing: Jared x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: J2 convention hilarity, dick jokes, only one bed, high school friends, spooning, size kink Word Count: 3,504 Bingo Squares: @spnkinkbingo - Size Kink

A/N: Not set around any particular season. For the purpose of this story, Jared and Jensen are both single, non-fathers.

Commissioned by: @jbbarnesgirl She had a great prompt that this has now spawned a sequel (which will be a member exclusive on my website)! Thanks for letting my mind run wild on this one babe ❤️

You pull into the parking space the valet wrote on your ticket and park with a dramatic exhale of relief. You’ve actually gone through with it and made the three hour drive up to Dallas to surprise Jared at his convention this weekend.

It had been years since your last high school reunion in Austin when you’d run into each other and wound up drunk in a Waffle House at three in the morning, stuffing your faces with bacon and french fries. You and he were the kind of friends that were awful at keeping in touch but time traveled straight back to junior year anytime you ran into each other. You’ve always been able to talk and laugh like only a weekend had passed between visits instead of years.

You hope Jared’s happy to see you, because you’ve been bursting at the seams with excitement since you came up with your ‘surprise’ plan.

The hotel lobby is swarming with fans and you wonder how on earth you’re going to find Jared in all the bustle. Your plan is to find someone who looks like they’re working the convention and ask for directions to Jared and Jensen’s bodyguard, Clif, who you hope to God remembers dropping your drunk ass off at your apartment after the Waffle House incident. It’s not a very elegant plan but it’s all you’ve got. You spot someone with a lanyard and a walkie-talkie and beeline toward them, fingers crossed in your pocket.

Twenty minutes and several tiers up the convention staff hierarchy later you’re finally led to a service hallway and ushered towards a door, Clif standing guard stoically outside it. The employee escorting you speaks quietly to Clif while you stand there awkwardly, rocking back and forth, toes to heel, in an effort to contain your nervous energy. A look of recognition slowly dawns across the bodyguard’s face as he takes another look at you.

“Austin, a couple years ago?” he asks to confirm.

“High school reunion,” you nod in affirmation, relieved he actually does remember you.

“No getting Jared drunk until after the panel,” Clif admonishes, aiming a thick finger menacingly at your face, and you nod gravely before his face cracks into a grin and he swings the door behind him back on its hinges.

“Y/N?!” Jared’s facing the door and spots you immediately, his face breaking into a wide smile. The anxiety that had solidified in your chest with each passing mile on your way here disintegrates, carrying the tension out of your body as it melts away.

“Hey there, Hot Shot.”

Jared bounds forward and wraps you tightly in a hug, the muscles in his arms visibly bulging the sleeves of his t-shirt as he squeezes you against him, which you can’t help but notice because your eye level is at his bicep. You hug him back as tightly as you can manage, pressing your cheek into his chest.

“How ya doin’, squirt?” Jared grabs your shoulders and manhandles you away from him so he can get a better look at you, his eyes racing up and down your figure. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Dallas is only a three hour drive,” you shrug. It’s no big deal really, you’d just wanted to see him. “Plus my mom cancelled our girls’ weekend, so I had nothing better to do,” you grin, your eyes twinkling up at him wryly. Behind you, you hear Jensen snort with laughter. Jared turns to his friend, giving him a withering look and Jensen chokes back another laugh, unable to hide his amusement.

“Dude, you were her back-up plan after her mom?”

“Shut up,” Jared rolls his eyes but you join in Jensen’s giggles.

“I’m Jensen, by the way,” the man in question raises a hand in greeting, and you smile back.

“Y/N,” you wave. “Went to high school with this nut case,” you jerk your thumb towards Jared.

“Feels like I do too,” Jensen laughs. “He still acts like he’s fourteen most of the time.”

“Hey!” Jared points an accusing finger at Jensen, “at least fifteen, thank you very much.”

“And what exactly is the distinction between fourteen and fifteen here, Jay?” he asks.

“He doesn’t pop a boner every time he talks to a girl anymore?” you offer, snickering. Jensen bursts out laughing, a full bellied, joyous sound that fills out every corner of the room. Jared is rolling his eyes again, but you spy the faint blush that’s started to creep up his neck, and based on the smirk Jensen’s wearing, you think he’s spotted it too.

“So,” Jared draws out the syllable, trying to change the topic. “Are you staying for the convention then?”

“Got my ticket and everything,” you wave your pass in the air. “But mainly I just wanted to see you, it’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Jared squeezes your arm affectionately. “Where’s your seat? I think we’re getting called out soon.”

“Oh I’m with the plebs at the back, standing room. Seeing your ass is only worth so much money,” you tease.

“You’re standing?” Jared’s brow shoots up. “You won’t be able to see a damn thing,” he laughs.

“You’re tall enough to see from space, Bigfoot,” you try to hit him on the head but he easily stretches his neck so you can’t reach, illustrating your point.

“She’s gotcha there, J-Rod,” Jensen agrees, strolling forwards and smacking Jared on the back of the head for you, since your attempt was foiled. “But you don’t have to stand all the way back there, sweetheart,” Jensen adds. “Come out with us, we’ll have someone put you at the side of the stage.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I really don’t mind standing,” you protest. You didn’t want to take space away from the fans who had paid for the close seats. You’re only a casual watcher of the show anyways, ghosts and monsters aren’t so much your thing, you just watch it because of Jared.

“Nah, c’mon,” Jared ignores your protest, striding back towards the door and popping his head out to talk to Clif. “Can you have them slap an extra chair on the side of the stage? Y/N’s gonna stick around for the panel.”

“Sure thing,” Clif nods, and radioes a volunteer to get it done.

“Jared,” you roll your eyes at your friend.

“Too late,” he taunts. “You’re stuck with the fangirls now.”

“Just keep in mind all the shit I could tell them,” you threaten jokingly.

“Nah, you won’t do that.” Jared’s entirely unconcerned.

“Why not?”

“Because then I won’t pay for our drinks tab later,” he smirks.

You mime turning a lock and throwing away the key. “My lips are sealed.”

“You better tell me later though, sweetheart,” Jensen ducks his head to whisper in your ear as they usher you out the door.

“Buy me a couple cosmos, you can know anything you want,” you smirk, and let Jensen and Jared guide you out to the convention hall for their panel.

“I will definitely take you up on that,” Jensen’s breath ghosts ticklishly over your ear. He shoots you a wink as he ducks behind a dividing curtain and you wave back giggling, and make your way to the seat Clif is pointing you towards.

The panel is a whole lot of fun, and you have to admit it’s definitely better sitting up front than it would have been fighting to stay standing in the sea of hormones jostling at the back. This close up, you can see Jared and Jensen’s reactions much more clearly, too; every secretive grin between them, every twitching laugh line, every aborted glance back in your direction. Laughter rings through the crowd and you refocus your attention on the questions.

“Which one of us is the biggest what?” Jensen speaks into his mic, asking the girl on the opposite side of the stage to you to repeat her question.

“Well I’m the biggest,” Jared cuts in smirking, and the audience cheers and giggles. Jared flashes them a bright, goofy smile.

“Well, that depends on what she’s asking,” Jensen smacks Jared on the arm. The girl tries to ask her question again but she’s laughing through it and the words come out garbled again.

“Which one of us has the biggest pants?” Jared’s brow raises as he incorrectly repeats the question again. You know there’s no way that’s what the girl asked. “That’s still me darlin’.” He turns to your side of the stage goddamn winks, and you flush just as deeply as the girl asking her question. You roll your eyes at him, glad that he probably can’t see you very clearly due to the stage lights shining in his eyes.

“That topic is still up for debate, actually,” Jensen protests seriously.

“No it’s not,” Jared scoffs.

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Jensen’s not backing down. “Costume department compared our measurements bro, they’re the same.”

“You and I both know that didn’t include the measurement they’re talking about,” Jared glares jokingly out at the audience.

There’s wolf whistles and shrieks of delight from the crowd and Jensen bursts out laughing. “You’re gonna give them all aneurysms, man.”

You certainly feel like you might be having an aneurysm. Your blood is pumping hot and hard through your veins. You can actually hear it swirling around your body, leaking out into your capillaries, carrying burning embarrassment and desire to the tips of each vessel.

It’s a running joke, the size difference between you and Jared. He towers over most of the people he meets, so it’s not unsurprising that he towers over you as well. He’s called you ‘squirt’ as long as you can remember knowing him, and you’ve called him every name you can dream up, from ‘sasquatch’ to ‘jolly green giant’.

As you both grew older, and Jared’s physique caught up to his height, and your mind started to take up a more permanent residence in…ahem… lower places than it had inhabited in your youth, you began to wonder just how big Jared would be if you ever… You imagine big. Proportional, at the very least. Though, Jared has always been an overachiever, you imagine it might extend to this measurement as well. You secretly hope, anyway.

You gulp nervously. There’s a reason you and Jared had gotten so trashed the last time you’d hung out, and that was so you could drown your burgeoning crush in some socially acceptable poison and hope it didn’t break its head through the surface. Jared looks back at you and flashes you a smile, probably in relation to whatever he’d just said but you hadn’t been listening, mind too preoccupied thinking about the size of your friend’s dick. You let out a sigh of resignation – you were going to have to get smashed tonight, too.

“Oh,” Jensen’s voice rings through the auditorium as he finally understands the question. “Which one of us did the biggest prank?”

“Uh, Jensen,” Jared answers after a moment of dramatised consideration, “just now when he told you all he has a bigger dick than me.”

There’s an echoing thud as Jensen smacks Jared’s head with his microphone and Jared and Jensen both double up laughing, covering their mics so it doesn’t reverberate around the room. When things settle down after a minute you see Jensen lean towards Jared to say something privately. The mics don’t pick it up, but you’re close enough that you think you hear him say, “later tonight, we’re getting out the ruler.”

The hotel bar is basically empty, but you and Jared are still in a private room at the back so he doesn’t get mobbed by fans if they do happen to wander in. Jensen had joined you for a drink earlier, but he had to leave to perform at the Saturday night concert for the convention.

“Do you ever perform on Saturdays?” you poked at Jared, and both he and Jensen laughed wildly.

“Never in a million years,” Jared shook his head. “I just watch this guy give everyone in the room phantom orgasms all night.”

“Gross, dude,” Jensen shuddered as Jared guffawed but you had to agree, Jensen’s voice was orgasmic.

“Have fun with your ménage a several hundreds,” you waved Jensen off with a giggle.

“You’ll have to join in sometime,” Jensen backed out of the room with a wicked grin, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously and leaving you and Jared laughing behind him.

“You want another one?” Jared asks, pointing at your nearly empty glass.

“If I have any more I’ll have to crawl back to Austin,” you hiccup, the alcohol making you giggle-y and unsteady despite your seated state.

“You’re not goin’ back to Austin, squirt,” Jared protests, drowning the remainder of his own glass.

“Am I being kidnapped?”

“Damn straight. You’re not driving anywhere tonight, don’t be stupid.”

“I was gonna dry out a little first,” you defend yourself. Of course you weren’t planning to drive home drunk.

“By the time you sober up it will be way too late to go back. Just stay the night here,” Jared shrugs, indicating it’s no big deal for you to crash. You think about it for a moment and then agree that staying over is a better plan. Besides, Jared will have a big fancy room since the convention is paying for them to stay here – he’ll have plenty of space for you.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically but you aren’t all that perturbed, and Jared knows it too. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” Jared grins. “C’mon, I’ll grab a bottle from the bar and let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to get caught in the crowd after the concert finishes.” You also don’t want to be mobbed by hundreds of concert goers, so you happily follow Jared out of the bar and up to his hotel room.

Jared flops dramatically onto his bed when you get inside, but you stand by the door, taking in your surroundings. As you’d imagined, the room is lavish. Every piece of furniture is accented with metallics, and every soft surface is heaped with pillows, including the bed Jared is now snuggling back onto. But, you note with a bit of surprise, there is only one bed.

Apparently fancy doesn’t automatically come with multiple beds – and why should it? Jared hadn’t expected anybody to stay the night, he’d only needed the one bed. Had he known there was only one bed when he offered you a place to crash for the night? Or had someone else brought up the luggage that you could see piled at the foot of the bed, meaning he wouldn’t have known what the exact sleeping situation would turn out to be? You’re jolted out of your frenzied contemplation when Jared throws a pillow at your head, though it narrowly misses and hits the door behind you.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night?” he laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Uh, no, course not,” you scoff, hoping Jared assumes the flush creeping over your skin is from alcohol, and not embarrassment. Jared scoots over to one side of the bed and pats the empty space he’s just created. The bottle of whiskey he’d brought from the bar downstairs is propped next to him on the pillows and it bounces as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You reach for it and peel back the foil cap, pulling the cork free with a pop.

“Wanna watch something?” Jared rifles on the side of the bed, digging for his laptop in the bag on the floor.

“Whatever you want,” you shrug.

You inwardly hope watching something might help you control your drunk chatter. Your mind has been wandering to one specific place since the panel this afternoon and you’re hyper aware that when you get tipsy, your filter becomes non existent. You do not want to give Jared an unsolicited insight into your horribly inappropriate mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle in your hands to Jared’s laptop, now open and sitting on his thighs while he surfs through movie options online. His hands overwhelm the breadth of the keyboard, the pads of each long finger almost bigger than the letter keys they’re hovering over. How far could those fingers reach if they were… No. You curtail that course of thought with a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and flick your eyes away from his hands.

Jared’s legs are pressed together, gangly limbs and knees scrunched up and pushing the fabric at his hips into ripples. An unmissable bulge sits at the apex of his thighs, distending the denim so it’s stretched tightly across his cock while it’s bunched and wrinkled everywhere else. You swallow hard and tear your gaze away, forcing yourself to look back at Jared’s laptop. He’s stopped scrolling now, and after a moment you realise he’s asking you if the movie he’s hovering over is an okay choice. You nod mutely and take another drink.

“Woah there darlin’, save some for the rest of us,” he laughs, grabbing the bottle from your hands, fingertips brushing over yours as he wraps them around the green glass. You wonder if Jared feels the same pang of electricity that you do when you touch. He’s evidently curious as to why you recoiled so quickly, because he’s now carefully studying your hand and the fingers that had just brushed against his.

Your moment of thick silence is interrupted by the fanfare of opening credits as the movie begins to play, startling you. Jared smooshes himself further back into the feather pillows on the unfairly comfy bed and stretches his arms wide, patting the pillow he’s using as an armrest to summon you to him.

Nervous and giddy all at once, you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, curling up against his side. Even laying down he feels so much bigger than you. Your eyes drop again, unbidden, to his lap and you rip your gaze away quickly. The whiskey must be settling in now, because you start to feel sleepy and because, for just a second, you think that the bulge in Jared’s crotch looks even larger than it had a few minutes earlier.

Jared pulls you close against him, offering you the whiskey bottle again, and you take it happily. The two of you lazily glug more booze and laugh along with whatever comedy is on the laptop, and you’re utterly content. At some point in time your neck loses its ability to support your head and you topple it sideways onto Jared’s shoulder.

“You comfy there, Y/N?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum sleepily, snuggling even deeper into Jared’s chest, your arm winding itself around his waist of its own accord, and Jared squeezes you against him, laughing softly into your hair.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep – you don’t remember the end of the movie at all. You don’t even remember how you’d wound up under the covers, cradled snugly in the bend of Jared’s body. Wiggling a little to reintroduce feeling into your left arm, you shift backwards into his chest, secretly hoping the arm currently resting on top of the covers might drop around your waist as you continue to sleep.

Arching out to stretch your legs a little, you wind up nudging your hips back into Jared’s and you freeze in shock. Here, pressed close beneath the confines of cotton-swaddled feathers, you feel it… and you can tell – Jared hadn’t been kidding at the panel earlier. He must be bigger than Jensen, because there’s no way anyone could be physically larger than what you feel pressing into the curve of your ass right now.

Your whole body flushes, but you’re too scared to move away lest you wake Jared, so you stay. You try to breathe, systematically unclenching the muscles in your body from head to toe and allowing yourself to relax against your bed companion. Darkness settles around you when your eyes drift shut again but the light from Jared’s laptop still casts a faint blue tint against your eyelids.

That comforting blue morphs into a shocking orange, and your eyes squint against the unexpected source of light now coming from the open door. Seconds later it’s even brighter as the lights in the room are switched on to reveal Jensen leaning casually against the back of the door, smirking in the direction of the bed. Behind you, Jared has jolted awake, sitting up and pitching you forward into the mattress with the force of his disturbance.

“Jay?” he asks blearily, yawning through the word.

“Why did I have a feeling this is what I’d be walking into tonight?” Jensen answers with a laugh and a kind roll of his eyes. You look sleepily between both of the men, confused as all hell.

Finally, it occurs to you why Jensen must be in the room – and why there had only been one bed.

Part 2 now up as an exclusive commission on my website!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20 @sams-sass @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking

#spnkinkbingo #size kink #jared x reader #friends to lovers #surprise ending

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