#I just love powerful 'hold my flower' confident ass girlfriends

[a-smol-cosplayer]

U can say whatever u want about Tyler (I mean watch ur mouth I love him but for the purpose of this post u can say what u want) but I found it weirdly refreshing to see such an awkward teen onscreen as a main character/love interest. Even tho Hunter Doohan doesn't look like a teenager, that sort of awkward stutter and dry humour really made him seem teenager-esk - the only example I can think of is derry girls where they are also kinda odd and weird and teenagery like that. 

 I know it might have all been an act and from what I have found on the internet its one of the things that people really don't like about him/made him suspicious - but I feel like we get too much of the broody and confident, always has a flirty witty response kinda love interests and I really likes the tall awkward, follows wednesday around bc she’s confident kinda character that he was portrayed as. Of course he wasn't a push over had good lines and moments, and will probably be different in season 2 bc we weren't told if the police scene was his hyde personality or actually him but I kinda hope they keep the slightly off kilter supportive love interest. Like he's funny and interesting and plays off wednesday well (ie the gates mansion scene with enid) but still doesn't overshadow her and need to show off his expertise. I like the twist at the end but I'm still mourning the character he could have been.

[finniestoncrane]

You got any more ideas on the other rogues (any rogues, specially Harvey) who like a thicker girl??? 💕🍑

mhmmmmmmmmm YEP because there's nothing stopping me from insisting that all of these men are weak in the knees for a literal fuckin marshmallow of a woman (tastes sweet, looks soft and round) 💚

healing fat girl problems one scenario with a criminal at a time, if there are any rogues i didn't get to let me know and i can try my best!

minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

scarecrow

someone get this man a big tiddy goth girlfriend, STAT. he uses the word plump a lot there's something classic and gothic about it to him. he's into white knuckle clinging and he can sink his fingers into every bit of you with ease so your body is a literal playground for him. there's not a bit of you he hasn't tried to taste or bite, and he finds it absolutely insane how much he enjoys pressing himself into you, between your thighs, your butt cheeks, your breasts. something about being enveloped in warm skin makes him feel safe and calm.

penguin

chubby power couple of gotham alert. he worships the ground you walk on and NEEDS to be seen with you, like you're a bit of a trophy and he loves showing you off. he's so happy just to have you on his arm and sharing his umbrella with him. also, it helps with his own self-image, being able to see obvious beauty in someone his shape and size makes him more confident. also, as someone who desires status and places a lot on his cumulative resources, someone who is large gives him a sense of value in you, that you're worth a lot more because there's more of you.

two face

there's something insanely glamorous about a plus size woman in a silk dress. y'know the way that silk kind of clings to the stomach and highlights the belly button and the shape of all the lumps and bumps HNG omg. and that's probably what would draw him to someone in the first place. he's quite aggressively complimentary, and if you were ever to say something slightly mean about yourself on a bad day, he would be ready with a retort. don't like the way your thighs chafe when you walk? that's fine, you can spend the rest of your life in bed with your legs spread for him. think your boobs are too big and maybe saggy? less effort for him to be able to put his face between them when you're on top. feel iffy about your double chin or neck one day? please remember that it's easier on his hand when he's choking you, which is one of his favourite things to do.

harley quinn

harley would absolutely find a chubby gal to be the cutest, most adorable thing ever. like she'll consider you a little stuffed animal that she is fiercely protective of. she'll squeeze your chubby cheeks and call you puddin' and she'll put a lot of effort into making you a matching outfit that shows off your curves. she's a tits gal for sure, but she loves prodding all of your lumpier bits and squealing over how CUTE you are.

bane

no matter how big you are, you're smaller than him and he likes to remind you of that by petting your head and treating you like a delicate angel. also, this might just be a me thing, but i missed out on being lifted and carried as a fat girl, but he's SO STRONG. forget about walking anywhere ever again, he's carrying you in his big strong arms. he's so aware of how hard his body is, it's nice to have something soft and squishy to hold against him. ALSO ass man ass man ASS MAN loves smacking it and watching it jiggle

poison ivy

your body and the way your curves flow make her think about the curves of flower stems, or the way that vines will curl and wave to find their way to the light. if you have stretch marks, she likes to stoke them and comments that they remind her of delicate petals with the lines that are on them, like hydrangeas. she's absolutely obsessed with thick legs, thighs and calves, because how are you not constantly arousing yourself by getting to walk around on those sturdy stalks god damn. she literally pictures you like an oil painting, cherubic, soft and dewy, literally surrounded by wildflowers at all times. she can swear she smells them when you walk past her.

[creepytoes88]

His cumslut

Letting Vinnie do basically whatever he wants tends to benefit me more then most people might think. My best friends are always saying I’m gonna regret letting him go to whatever party or anyone's house. They say he’s a hypocrite because he always has tabs on where I'm at and who I'm with honesty it does get annoying at times but he can't help that he has trust issues. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to being his girlfriend he has had a bad past with every girlfriend he's had, all of them have cheated and every girl he got with outside of a relationship just uses him. He was very clear on how he feels about unnecessarily revealing clothes “Wear what you want but if I have to kill a guy tonight I'm punishing you when we get home.”

A very common phase he uses but that's the worst of it I don't mind telling him who I'm with or where I am, I never ask him where he is because because I know he won't go looking around anywhere else. I've explained this to them a thousand times “Well tell us why your so confident he won't cheat” I blush slightly and shrug “YOU DO THIS EVERYTIME” I look down “it’s personal” they look at each other and laugh “tell us you prude” I chuckle slightly “promise no Judgement or making fun of me!” they both hold out their pinkeys and nod “wellllll...I let him do whatever he wants-” kay laughs “Yea we know” I look down “i mean anything” I slowly look back up “what he says goes.... Don't wear clothes for the rest of the week.....suddenly I'm busy all week” they look at me dumbfounded “of course there are exceptions but I let him have complete control with the sexual side of the relationship.” I say with a small smile “and he's good at it too” they look at each other and look back at me before busting out in laughter, “no wonder your not worried...your his sex slave” I tilt my head Vinnie had never used that term with me, I grew up with Vinnie me and him went to school together we weren't close till middle school we decided in freshman that we would be best as friends. The second week him and I were in LA we went to a party and ended up hooking up I was a virgin, and I thought it was gonna ruin everything but to my surprise, we just kept getting more and more serious.

After 5 months of living in the sway house, we moved out into our little house, our sex life completely changed when we no longer had people living with us. Vinnie told me his sexual dreams of having me whenever he damn well pleased and having me wear things he likes. Vinnie makes jokes about it but in real life I'm only allowed to call him Vinnie if we're in public inside the house his name is Daddy and that alone. The first time we had a fight in the house I called him by his name and he simply picked me up threw me over the couch, he edged me for hours when he finally let me release the power of it made me faint for a minute scaring the the absolute shit out of Vinnie. ”Honestly your not wrong...he’s never called me that but I guess your kinda right” they are quite for a second so I look at them “what” they look at each other before kay takes a deep breath “are you happy though, Outside of the sex he not controlling or pushy?” I smile “oh he's perfect and so sweet to me honestly I'm more worried of hurting his feelings.” I feel my phone vibrant and then Vinnie’s ring tone I answer quickly wondering why he didn't face time me or text me “hey bab-” I hear him breathing deeply “whats wrong?” I ask with worry “I really need you to head home now baby I’ve had a very long day and I need to release some tension.”

I feel shivers go down my spine and I feel myself already starting to get wet I let out a fake sigh “alright Vinnie if it’s that important I’ll be home in 10 minutes” hoping the girls won’t think it’s about something dirty. Vinnie lets out a chuckle “they are still giving you shit about me?” I laugh “I’ll be home soon I love you” I hung up and give the girls an apologetic face “girls I’m-“ they laugh and stand up “it’s okay Y/n we don’t want him to throw a tantrum because your not naked when you get there” I gasp turning around seeing their playful faces “you guys are ridiculous.” We all laugh as we go separate ways, I get in my car rushing home I want to beat him to the house so I can keep the plan of being naked. The second I step in the house I start stripping and then as I’m about to pull my skirt off I hear a door slam. I gasp and rush upstairs flinging my clothes off just leaving them there. I hear the Door open then slam shut I jump on the bed quickly, I place my head and chest against the bed my ass in the air. I spread my legs as far as possible trying to calm my breathing my heart is basically beating out of my chest as I wait for him patiently.

Vinnie's POV

I pull in to the house and shut off the car taking a deep breath ”Vinnie it's not Y/n’s fault that Justin is a dumbass” I say to myself getting out of the car I slam the door releasing as much anger as possible before going in the house to my beautiful wife to be. I will marry this woman she's everything I've ever wanted or needed but now isn't the time for marriage or at least that's what I keep telling myself walking in to the house and slamming that door too I am already kinda feeling better I'm still fucking pissed but I'm not raging anymore I toss my keys into the bowl and take off my shoes seeing hers just tossed to the side unlike usual. I walking into the living room to see her shirt and bra on the floor I smirk and walk up to the stairs seeing her skirt and her panties along with her socks right outside the closed door. “Hello my love-” I walk in to see her bent over with her ass in the air, her beautiful flower on full display along with her cute little button. The sight takes my breath away I can see her arousal dripping down her legs “well aren't you just the prettiest view.”

I see her wiggle her squishy cheeks making me laugh a little “wanna give Daddy a little dance show princess?” I was kidding but my baby never disappoints she immediately started to shake her butt to an imaginary song I watch with my mouth open a little I truly didn't know she was capable of dancing that way. I watch in awe as she began to make her ass clap (as one does💀) I grunt as I feel my dick become impossibly hard I began to take my clothes off as I pull down my boxers. My cock slaps against my lower stomach making my stomach twist I grab ahold of it watching as large amounts of pre-cum slip out. I swiping my tip letting out a little grunt, I hear her call my name I look up at her to see her look at me from between her legs “can I help?” she asks as she bites her lip. I immediately let go and I feel another large amount of pre-cum drip down my staff again making me blush slightly no one makes me as horny as she does.

Y/n’s POV

I jump up from my spot I roll off the bed dropping to my knees in front of him I take both my hands and intertwine them with his big warm hands. First I lick up the line of pre-cum that's made its way to his balls all the way back to his tip before sinking down till he hit the back of my throat. Vinnie lets out a gasp rocking his hips against my face pushing the rest of his cock down my throat a gag comes out as a result but I continue to bob my head and suck I pull my head off taking a breath or two before opening back up and taking him all the way till my nose is pushed against his naval. The prickly hair tickling my nose I let out a small giggle “Oh fuck what was that” Vinnie moans above me and he grabs the back of my head by my hair in a fist “I'm gonna fuck your throat baby are you ready?” I nod my head best I can with his thick and long cock stuffed in my throat and blocking my airway. He pulls back till his tip is almost out before thrusting back in a popping and gagging sound come from my throat and my eyes rolls to the back of my head. I never thought I would get so much pleasure from giving a man head in my life but something about his taste and the feeling of him stuffing my throat that I just can't get enough of. Once I spent a whole day just sucking his dick he came in my mouth and down my throat too many times to count I had a little stomach bulge after and it kinda looked like a food baby. I remember Vinnie asked if that meant I was technically carrying his children now I smile slightly at the memory but I'm brought back to reality when I hear him calling my name “oh fuckfuckfuck” he pushes his cock as far down my throat as possible “Shit Y/n fuck baby!” shooting a long, and hot load down my throat I grab his hips gargling my throat around his cock making him jump and try to pull away as he continues to cum down my throat. He succeeded in pulling out and the last little bit of cum landing on my tongue “mmmm Daddy you taste so good” I say licking my lips I use my finger to the the rest off my chin and off his tummy I look in his eyes at I take the finger and put in my mouth moaning at the taste again. “Fuck Princess you enjoy that way to much don't you think?” he laughs as he lays down on the bed “my balls hurt” he laughs I crawl back on top of him kissing his cheeks and finally his lips “you taste so good though Daddy, I just can't get enough of you.” I run my hands threw his hair “give me like 10 minutes and ill make you feel so good baby” he says as he kissed my neck I sit beside him rubbing his god like body (somebody said something about licking his biceps in the comments as I kinda like that idea so enjoy)

I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms admiring his gorgeous skin I feel the need to worship him show him just how much of a slave for him I am he doesn't need to tell me I'm his slave, I already know I am and I'm gonna show him. “Mmm Daddy let me worship you” I whine as I began to kiss his chest and shoulders I run my hands up and down his toned stomach I began to kitten lick his hard muscles sucking little hickeys while I'm at it. “Fuck Princess what did you say” I start to kiss and lick his abs my hands rubbing his hard thighs pulling away I say “when I was at lunch with the girls I finally told them the truth about why I trust you so much they called me your sex slave.” I stop and begin to leave hickeys all over his hips and sex lines his hard cock brushing my cheeks and chin “I thought about it and I agree and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way” I lean down kissing his lips “oh princess I'm gonna make you more then just my sex slave” I sinister smile runs across his face and gleam appears in his eyes “I'm gonna make you my cumslut and your gonna beg for my cum....well everywhere if I have it my way.” he says looking in my eyes I feel a blush run on my cheeks and an excited shiver run down my back “you know you'll have it your way Daddy that my job right?” I say with a cute smile tilting my head trying to look innocent Vinnie let's put a dark chuckle “I can't wait to ruin you and really turn you into my cumslut” he pulls me down before flipping us over so he's on top “you won't be able to think about anything else except the way it feels for me to cum in your beautiful body” that sentence sent a violent shiver down my spine, I just got on birth control a little over 2 weeks ago but we haven't had raw sex quite yet mostly because we wanted to be sure the birth control is in full effect before taking the chance. (let's pretend you can't get pregnant on birth control at all lmao) I guess now is better than never “please Daddy make me your cum slut” I whine hooking my leg around his hip running my hands threw his hair.

Vinnie’s POV

My poor little bunny had no idea what she was doing to me as far as she's concerned these are just words flying out of her mouth but to me they are her words of true love and true trust. She trusts me enough to control her body and soon her mind, once she falls into the state of a cumslut I know she won't be able to control her body or her mind hopefully she feels relaxed in that state. The last thing I would want is for her to have a bad experience with me being the one in charge. I push my head into her neck running my staff between her slick lips a small moan falls from her lips “thank you, baby, I won't disappoint you I promise.” I kiss her lips once more before grabbing ahold of both of her legs pushing my spongy tip into her entrance the feeling completely different from when I have a condom on I let out a low gasp. Goosebumps pop up on my skin and a shiver runs down my spine as I pull out a light popping noise is made “UGH FUCK YOUR SO TIGHT” I let out a loud moan throwing my head back. I look back down seeing my sweet girl looking back up at me with wide innocent eyes and her mouth slightly open her hands hold tight onto my shoulders without even thinking I push inside of her both of us moaning as her wet walls fluttering around my dick about sending me into orbit I quickly bottom out letting out a grunt using my free hand to move her hair out of her face “F-fuck Daddy please I want you to use me” I began to jackhammer into her feeling her wall pulse around me her loud moans filling my ears as I pick up her legs pushing them into her shoulders feeling myself go further inside of her “Da-DADDY” I chuckle “what baby is there something you want” she whines and grinds her hips into me making me go even further if that's possible. “Daddy please cum inside of me I wanna feel it” Her little body was shivering, I feel my balls tighten so I began to rapidly pound inside of her “OH YESSS IM CUMMMING” she yells out thrusting her hips up. I grunt pushing as far into her as I can releasing deep inside of her, I look down to see her tense and shivering “you ok bunny,” I ask slightly worried “i-so um I-please” I look at her slightly confused “what baby?” I say with a little laugh I see her open her eyes a little before spreading her legs again “more please.” she whines out I drop my mouth open at my cute little whiney mess “oh princess you have no clue what you just did”

I have other things coming but should I make a part 2 to this

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Can I request something for tmt? a one shot tho nothing too long I just love tmt jisung he’s my ideal type 🤧😂

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Han Jisung

Genre: Sequel; Drabble

Warnings: Smut and Language

There were two Jisung’s in my book.

The sweet, adoring version of him that I loved who brought me flowers from the store, or who spent long hours staying up with me late into the night to talk about whatever happened to cross our minds.

Then, there was the Jisung who called himself J.One.

The rapper version of him who commanded the stage with an intoxicating charisma, who winked and rolled his eyes as he moved with Chan and Changbin, gesturing to the crowd and ad-libbing into the microphone in unexpected bursts of energy.

He was impossible to resist, but he was all mine. And I had never felt so lucky in my entire life. Despite our rough start, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything in the world, and I had become a mainstay at his concerts.

Tonight’s performance ended with their new song, the one that was rapidly rising in the ranks on SoundCloud and garnering more YouTube videos than the average Among Us collaboration. I could tell that the crowd loved it, cheering and screaming even louder once the familiar bass dropped over the speakers. 

In these moments, it was easy to see why Jisung was so enamored with this world of underground music and late-night clubs and bars. 

“The one in the middle,” a girl yelled into my ear. “He’s really good!”

She was referring to Changbin and I forced myself to nod. “Yeah, he’s alright.”

As long as you don’t let him seduce you, I wanted to add, but perhaps it was better for the group’s image if I didn’t go into long-winded detail concerning Changbin’s exploits. Chan was no better, but at least he had the decency to feel bad and apologize. It made it easier to see him whenever I visited Jisung at their studio.

Changbin on the other hand? Well, he was still inclined to send me flirty looks and whisper rather inappropriate things that I doubt Jisung would want to hear. But that was an argument for another time.

Tonight was all about Jisung, and I could tell that the girl sitting next to me and her posh group of friends were shocked when Jisung and the rest of his group made their way over to me.

“Baby,” Jisung purred when he was close enough, sliding an arm around my waist before bringing me in for a passionate kiss.

It was enough to steal the breath from my lungs, and I pulled away to send a knowing look in the direction of the girls who were watching us with wide eyes and gaping mouths. “You were amazing!” I told Jisung, offering a friendly nod to Chan and Changbin who were already busy scoping out their exploits for the night.

“I feel amazing,” Jisung admitted, and then his mouth was next to my ear. “They gave me my own backstage room. Wanna see?”

“Of course,” I said, grinning because I knew that Jisung’s intentions extended far beyond merely asking me to admire his dressing room. 

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and waving off Chan and Changbin who weren’t even cognizant that their third wheel was leaving with his girlfriend. Hopefully, to screw her brains out because I desperately needed it.

“Your new song was really popular,” I remarked casually as Jisung weaved us in and out of the crowd.

“Yeah?” he smirked. “We spent weeks working on it. I think Chan was ready to call it quits at one point.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” I said, feeling myself grow more excited as we disappeared behind the curtain partitioning off the rest of the grimy bar.

It was much less crowded in the back, and Jisung’s hand was already squeezing at my ass as he turned the knob on the door labeled with his name written in bright colors on a slab of wood.

But once we were inside, Jisung ensured that the door was locked before pressing me back against it, reclaiming my lips with desperation. “Slow down, baby,” I gasped between kisses, feeling my way down Jisung’s shirt to palm the tight bulge over his gold-colored pants.

They were skin tight on his lithe frame, and I knew that his erection was straining against the tight material. “Can I fuck you, baby?” Jisung asked, and I smiled the familiar shyness in his eyes, listening to him whimper as I continued to add more pressure against his cock.

“How can I say no to you?” I asked, loving that he was still inclined to act the part of the well-mannered boy who used to follow me around with discreet looks aimed in my direction.

“There’s a condom in my bag,” he said, reluctantly moving away to locate his stuff piled high against one of the chairs.

In the meantime, I wandered over to the stuffy gray couch tucked away in the corner, ignoring the smell as I hitched up my dress before bending over the back. “Sungie?”

“Yeah, ba-” he broke off with a stuttered moan, taking in the sight of me bent over for him just the way he liked. “Y/N,” he whispered, eliminating the space between us with three measured steps before his hands were tugging down my panties and squeezing the soft flesh of my ass. “So beautiful,” he said, and I shivered at the sound of him undoing his belt, pushing down his jeans to mid-thigh along with his boxers. 

“Are you ready?” I asked, reaching back to press two fingers into the gaping mess of my pussy, clenching and unclenching as I stretched myself out for him.

I was already wet just from hearing Jisung’s voice alone, admiring him dancing across the stage and, at one point, grinding against the floor.

Jisung groaned in reply to my question, ripping open the condom to tug it over himself. The motion was well-rehearsed at this point, even though he had fumbled the rubber a couple of times during the early part of our relationship. But we fit together like two essentials parts of a machine, and I almost knew his body as well as my own.

“I’ve got you,” Jisung said, pulling me out of my thoughts when he rubbed the tip of his cock against the entrance to my wet cunt.

“Please,” I practically begged him, and Jisung knew better than to tease me for longer than was necessary with our foreplay, and he was sliding home with a long, languid thrust of his hips that had me accommodating the size of his erection as my walls held to him tight. “You’ve got to give me more than that, Jisung!”

“More?” Jisung repeated, sounding a little more confident as he placed both hands on my hips. 

I nearly screamed when he started a frantic pace, fucking his cock in and out with perfectly timed thrust of his hips, rolling against my ass with every stroke. I could feel each drag of his erection, filling me so well, to the point where it felt like I could already burst from the friction rapidly building inside of me.

I clenched my hands tighter around the cushions in front of me, closing my eyes as my clit brushed against the rough texture of the couch with every penetration. He was stimulating every part of me, hitting my g-spot at the perfect angle, hitching one of my legs further up around his waist so that he could keep going, faster and faster until I started to grow light-headed from the pleasure.

“I’m close, Jisung,” I warned him, clenching down harder around him to ensure that he felt as much pleasure as I did.

His resounding moan was more than enough confirmation that Jisung was feeling every inch of me, and I could just imagine the look on his face: the concentrated scrunch of his nose and the thin bead of sweat that pooled atop his upper lip.

There was always something riveting about Jisung when he was fucking me, head tossed back and neck exposed. He always liked to watch the place where his cock was stuck inside, using his fingers to feel just how close were in those moments. Sometimes, he might stick his finger in alongside his erection, and that was enough to make me feel even fuller, like I could literally mold myself to him. 

The mental image alone was enough to stoke the flames licking at my loins, and I could feel my impending orgasm growing stronger by the minute, especially in conjunction with the loud squelching sounds of his cock hitting me between his rough grunts. 

It was dirty and obscene, and I tried not to think about the fact that anybody could walk by, including Chan and Changbin, and hear just how good Jisung was fucking me. 

But it was worth the risk, and there was nothing that could ever bring me closer to Jisung, practically feeling him touching my cervix with how deep he was reaching. Like he was determined to split me in half, using just his cock and fingers to completely break me down. 

I moaned at the thought, eyes rolling back into my head when Jisung suddenly wrenched back and slammed forward with a powerful thrust, forcing my back to arch even further as he gripped tighter to my ass. In response, I reached back behind me to catch Jisung’s hand, digging my nails into his palm as I suddenly erupted around him. Experiencing wave after wave of unmitigated desire as he fulfilled my deepest urges, grinding his cock against my ass as he moaned and whined in response. 

He rode me through my high carefully, sliding his cock gingerly between my pulsating walls, still chasing his own pleasure while remaining mindful of my oversensitivity. But I wanted to feel him cum more than anything, and I told him as much with an exaggerated moan that sent his hips stuttering twice against mine before I felt his release. Something warm and sticky, even though it was hard to appreciate the sensation with a thin layer of latex keeping him from leaking.

Still, I winced when Jisung pulled out, tossing the used condom into the trash as I reached back down for my panties to pull them back into place before falling onto the couch with a sigh. “Fuck,” Jisung cursed, using shaky hands to readjust himself, stuffing his spent cock back into his boxers and jeans. 

“Come here,” I said, holding out my arms and inviting him closer into my embrace, nuzzling at the thin layer of sweat building at the base of his neck, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne.

“So good for me,” Jisung said, turning around so that our noses brushed. “Did you like it?”

I smiled, wondering if there would ever come a day when Jisung didn’t question just how amazing he made me feel. “I always love it,” I told him sincerely, reaching out to push a wayward strand of hair behind his ear before leaning in close to whisper a kiss against the pucker of his addictive lips.

[harrowharkboygf]

i want to see you, dressed all in white

a short catradora oneshot, set at the time of adora's future vision. requested by @nozomijoestar. read on ao3.

Catra could not believe she was wearing shoes for this. It was such a strange experience, hearing the click clack of heels coming from her feet as she walked, but alas! Such was the life of an ambassador of Brightmoon.

And, she thought privately, the life of the wife of She-Ra. Hopefully. If everything went well tonight. She subtly traced the outline of the ring in her pants pocket. The box itself would have been too big and clunky to fix in her pocket, so Glimmer had helped her out and given her a tiny leather pouch to hold it in.

“If she finds the pouch, just say it contains important ambassador information like…IDs!” Glimmer had suggested.

Catra had raised an eyebrow. “We need IDs for Princess Prom?”

“Well no, but…” It was Glimmer’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “You and Adora did miss half the planning meeting, so how would either of you know?”

Catra had smirked. “We were…busy.”

She gave her a decidedly unqueenly shove. “Of course you were, Horde Scum.” Then Glimmer pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both. Adora’s gonna say yes immediately.” Catra wasn’t worried about her saying no; she knew that Adora loved her more than anything, and they’d been talking about marriage for a while now. No, she was worried that somehow something would go wrong and it wouldn’t be perfect. Adora was as amazing as the moons and the stars—she deserved perfect.

“Catra? Catra!”

She snapped back to the present. Adora was waving her hand in front of her face, grinning. Even at age twenty-seven, she still hadn’t lost the adorable, dorky look on her face.

“Sorry, zoned out for a sec,” she said, taking Adora’s hand and jumping gracefully down from the skiff. She took a minute to admire how beautiful her girlfriend looked tonight—she looked like a queen in her own right, the tiara sparkling off her golden hair and the white dress making it all too easy for Catra to imagine her walking down a wedding aisle. Her stomach fluttered.

“Are you nervous for your second Princess Prom?” asked Adora; her tone was joking but her eyes softened in a way that made Catra feel instantly safe.

“Not with you by my side,” said Catra, pushing down her nerves and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Are you nervous?”

“Not with you by my side,” Adora mimicked, smiling against her lips.

If anyone was definitely nervous, it was Bow and Glimmer. This was the first formal event where they would be introduced as a married couple, and they had spent the whole skiff ride fiddling nervously with their clothes and asking to go over the schedule so often that Catra had asked Bow if he’d switched bodies with Adora.

“You two look amazing,” Adora told them for the seventh time this hour.

“Are you sure the capes don’t look stupid?” asked Glimmer. “I don’t wanna look childish.”

“What if I trip and fall on it?” Bow worried, toying with the edge of his cape.

“If you do, I will laugh and then kick all the asses of anyone else who laughed,” Catra assured him.

“And I’ll help!” said Adora gleefully, holding up her hand to be high-fived. Catra obliged her.

Glimmer and Bow both took a deep breath in sync. “Thanks, guys,” she said, a real smile spreading across her face.

Bow stuck out his hand. “Best Friend Squad!”

Everyone put their hands in the middle. “Best Friend Squad!” they cheered.

——

The former-Fright-Zone-now-renamed-the-Light-Zone looked absolutely stunning. Scorpia had really outdone herself. Unlike at Frosta’s prom, which had been decorated with gleaming ice sculptures, the ballroom was decorated with smooth, sleek black crystals reminiscent of the Black Garnet, giving the whole room a very sophisticated aura.

“Presenting Queen Glimmer and King Bow of Brightmoon!”

Bow and Glimmer did not, to their credit, trip over their capes or do anything else notably embarrassing. In fact, they were the textbook example of dignified, waving proudly to the crowd as they walked up to the dais, and then bowing low to Scorpia, who immediately jumped down from her throne to greet them.

And then it was their turn.

“Presenting Adora, Princess of Power, and Catra of Brightmoon!”

Catra offered her girlfriend her arm. It was partially an affectionate gesture and partially an effort to make sure she herself didn’t trip—she still wasn’t used to these shoes.

“Your Highness,” Catra said to Scorpia as she bowed.

“Oh, none of that ‘Highness’ crap!” Scorpia chortled, practically bouncing off her throne to envelop the two of them in a tight hug.

“All this stuff is so formal,” she whispered. “I’m so out of my depth.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Adora promised her.

The next hour or so was filled with so many boring conversations and introductions. It seemed like every diplomat and ambassador in Etheria wanted to talk to her and Adora. It was really cute when little kids came up asking for She-Ra autographs, but if Catra had to hear about the rising fish prices in Salineas one more time, she was going to be homicidal.

Despite coming as each other’s dates, Catra and Adora had to split up in order to divide and conquer all of their social obligations, a strategy that Bow and Glimmer had also adopted. That didn’t stop Catra from throwing as many longing looks at Adora from across the ballroom as physically possible.

She tried to seek shelter with Double Trouble, who would definitely not force her to ruminate on the state of “today’s youth”—a conversation that withered old advisers seemed to love—but their need to be the center of attention kept also drawing attention to Catra. This made it particularly hard to accomplish her goal of “only talking to people she wanted to talk to”. Glimmer, surrounded by a group of Mystacor sorcerers, gave her an arm squeeze in solidarity as she passed by.

Eventually she managed to escape yet another drab discussion of the pros and cons of a trade alliance between the Crimson Waste and the Kingdom of Snows under the premise of greeting Frosta. She was able to enjoy the beginning of a nice banter/advice session concerning Frosta’s love life before the princess was preoccupied with an adviser asking her opinion on intra-kingdom matters.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken those off yet,” Adora said behind her, making her jump. She gestured down at the cursed shoes.

“I wish,” Catra grimaced, taking the cup of punch her girlfriend offered. “I was afraid someone would throw a fit.”

Adora wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which Catra leaned into gratefully. “Is it that advisor over there?” she whispered in her ear, subtly turning Catra’s head so she can see who she meant. “The one with an angry look on his face? Are you afraid of him?”

She snickered. “What, did you have to hear his monologue about decorum too?”

“He even made a comment about ‘last time’,” Adora told her, laughing under her breath. “A very pointed remark about breaking tradition.”

“Ooh, insulting She-Ra, is he? I’ll kick his ass.”

“My hero.”

Catra turned to face her fully, placing one hand on Adora’s hip. “You know it,” she murmured, leaning forward to press their lips together.

“Adora!”

Catra pulled back, groaning under her breath, as they both turned to see Perfuma waving at them. The flower princess held up her own cup and gestured at a group of stern-looking Plumerians. Adora pecked her cheek before hurrying off again.

At this point, Catra was beginning to get worried that she wouldn’t ever get the chance to be alone with Adora. She once again traced the outline of the ring pouch in her pocket, biting her lip.

Then, to her immense relief, music started playing. She grinned. It was time for the real party to start.

Adora easily found her on the dance floor. Catra leaned eagerly into her warm touch, let herself be rooted in her relaxed blue eyes. “Will you be my dance partner?” asked Adora teasingly.

Catra pretended to think it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Are you any good at it?”

Adora winked. “Nope.”

Catra blew her a kiss, and then the dance started, everyone moving in sync. Adora kept her eyes fixed on her girlfriend, her steps steady and confident despite her previously stated lack of talent. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” she murmured back. “Always have, always will.”

The movements of the dance pulled them closer, the tempo slowing down. Adora used this opportunity to cup her face and kiss her firmly—finally—before the pace of the music picked back up again and everyone switched partners.

The carefully-choreographed switch in the dance pushed her and Glimmer together, a move that made the both of them grin easily. Things really had changed since the last Princess Prom, Catra thought to herself.

“Do you have a specific plan?” asked Glimmer, nodding almost imperceptibly at her pocket.

Catra nodded. “I just need a way to get a moment alone with Adora.”

Glimmer winked at her. “I can do that.”

Then she was passed off to Mermista, who she hadn’t seen yet that evening. “Heard you knocked up,” said Catra in lieu of a greeting.

Mermista twirled her, a lazy smirk sliding across her face. “Yeah, just a little baby barnacle growing, nothing to see here.”

“Congrats,” Catra told her genuinely. Mermista would never be her best friend—that was reserved for Adora, and Glimmer and Bow—but she had the deepest respect for her, and they got along wonderfully.

A slight blush drifted over her cheeks. The queen had never been good at accepting compliments—one of the many things they had in common. “Bow told me,” she said, “so like, congrats to you too.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “What, does the entire Princess Alliance know?”

“Probably,” drawled Mermista, and then Catra spun her one last time before they parted ways.

“Catra!” Scorpia greeted her with just as much enthusiasm as before. “I heard the news! How can I help?”

As they began the waltz, Catra mulled it over. “Actually,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I do have a request.”

——

“Greetings, Princess Prom guests!” Perfuma said in a trill, speaking into the microphone. “I hope you all enjoyed your first dance of the night! Now we will have a live performance by our beloved host, Princess Scorpia!”

The crowd cheered wildly. Scorpia stepped onto the stage, looking radiant and sure of herself under the spotlights. She tapped the microphone once to test it, before she began to hum the opening notes of a ballad.

Scorpia’s song wafted through the ballroom, filling the air. Perfuma sat behind her, strumming a huge string instrument made of wood and occasionally providing backup vocals.

Catra and Adora swayed together on the dance floor, saying nothing, just enjoying each other’s presence. Catra spun her around slowly as Scorpia crooned, occasionally pressing a light kiss to her skin as she drew her closer. Adora, in turn, just watched her, a soft look on her face.

After Scorpia finished her first song of the night, everyone cheered, clapping their hands and whistling in approval. The princess flushed a deep crimson, exchanging a delighted look with Perfuma over her shoulder. A shout of “Encore! Encore!” started up.

Catra took Adora’s hand. “Let’s sneak out for a bit,” she whispered. “Everyone’s entranced by Scorpia’s singing, so we won’t be missed.”

The gleam in Adora’s eyes was ever so familiar, a look that she hadn’t lost even as she grew older. “Lead the way,” she whispered back.

They snuck out through one of the many hallways branching out from the ballroom. The hallways were well lit and decorated similarly to the ballroom; it looked so different from the hallways they’d once scampered through as kids.

But they raced just the same, hand in hand, giggling as they chased each other. Catra mussed up Adora’s hair, cackling as her girlfriend playfully pulled her into a headlock. Their outfits were thoroughly disheveled by the time they reached the ladder, but Catra didn’t care.

“Do you recognize where we are?” she asked.

Adora touched the rail of the ladder. “Of course,” she said, returning Catra’s grin. “I’d recognize this place in my sleep, no matter how many times the walls are repainted.”

Catra kicked off her shoes, sighing with relief when the pads of her feet touched ground again. “Follow me, then.” She hoisted herself up onto the first rung of the ladder, and began to climb.

“Not fair!” shouted Adora below her. “I’m wearing a dress and you’re not!” But she heard her feet touch the ladder rungs anyway.

Catra offered Adora her hand on the top rung, which she took gratefully. The two of them stood together on the platform, in the exact spot where they’d spent so many hours as children. Catra inhaled, breathing in Adora’s sweet, familiar scent.

Adora stared out over the former Fright Zone, still wrapped around Catra. “The Light Zone is a good name,” she said finally.

Catra purred softly as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s so much nicer now,” she marveled. “Scorpia did so well.”

Adora turned to look at her. “So did we,” she said, cupping her cheek. “We’ve rebuilt so much since the war ended seven years ago.”

Catra picked up on the double meaning of her words. “We have,” she said, pressing their foreheads together and smiling against her lips. Her heart pounded in her throat. This was the perfect moment.

Catra pulled back, just far enough to give her space to kneel. Quickly, she rehearsed her speech in her mind, She reached into her pocket and pulled the ring free from the leather pouch.

She began, “Hey, Adora—”

“Will you marry me?” blurted out Adora.

Catra’s jaw dropped. For a minute, she said nothing.

“I mean, you—you can say no,” Adora said hurriedly, clearly taking her silence as a bad sign. “I didn’t plan out an elaborate proposal or anything, I don’t even have a ring, but—”

“I have a ring!” said Catra, still shocked.

It was Adora’s turn to gape at her. “You—What?”

A grin split Catra ear to ear. “Yes, you idiot!” she exclaimed. “I was going to propose to you tonight—right now, actually! Glimmer and I have been planning this for months!”

Adora almost fell over laughing, clutching her stomach. “Wow,” she said, breathless, “we make quite a pair.”

“We do,” said Catra, throwing her arms around her neck and kissing her passionately.

“I love you,” Adora told her, her words slightly muffled against her lips.

Catra got down on one knee and held out the ring in her palm for real. “Adora,” she said, ignoring the happy tears that pricked the corner of her eyes, “will you marry me?”

Adora knelt down so they were level. “Yes,” she breathed out. “A million times, yes.”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Lover, I Was Lonesome || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Deirdre struggle to find a new normal

CONTAINS: brief mentions of parental abuse, dysfunctional death gals

The day after she’d screamed and fought, Morgan put herself on three different therapist’s waiting lists.‘The strain of the holiday season makes this a very high traffic time for us, unfortunately,’ one receptionist said. To which Morgan replied, ‘Gee no kidding!’ before fumbling with her Decap while the lady assured they’d get to her as soon as possible. Then came the embarrassing Google searches, followed by the books, most with not-so-fun fill-in-the-blank work sections. Between learning about her anxious attachment style and questioning some of the healing codependent advice (why shouldn’t she put her partner’s needs first as often as possible?), Morgan hit her limit within a few hours most days and spent the rest of her time cooking and trying to be normal. She made a lot of casserole, a lot of soup, and spent the quiet hours searching for a conversation that wouldn’t hurt or turn complicated. Today the special was broccoli and cheddar with a soft baguette from the grocery store. Morgan smiled hopefully as she presented the tray. “Hope this tastes as good as it looks. How’re you doing today?”

Deirdre had developed a system, or rather, had devised a plan. She was ready and willing to do whatever she needed to make things okay, and had spent her hours staring off and running scenarios in her head. She could do this, or that and each thing had its risk and success rate and for a while, for the moment, she felt confident she could fix things. She felt hopeful. Caring for Morgan was a thought she welcomed into her mind, far more desirable than the other thoughts that lingered. She straightened up and beamed at her girlfriend as she entered, soup on a tray. “Well it smells great, thank you.” In truth, she was a little tired of the soup, the constant liquid meals had started to make her feel like she didn’t have teeth. Sometimes she snuck around for an apple just to remember how to bite things. But she smiled, shifted, and welcomed Morgan to her. This was part of the plan, and the plan had been carefully thought out. It needed to be perfect. It began in a way she considered simple, with the fae. “I’m doing well, thank you. Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Mirrored District. Did I ever tell you what the fae did for Lydia?”

Morgan set down the tray and busied herself with making Deirdre more comfortable, piling and fluffing the pillows around her and elevating her legs. She didn’t mind Deirdre straining herself where exchanging comfort was concerned, but anything else seemed cruel now. Slowly, she eased herself into Deirdre’s side, resisting the urge to tangle up completely. “Where should I touch you, or is there a tense spot in your muscles I can try to work out? I’m okay with doing that for you, right now.” She gave a guilty half-smile, acknowledging there was no guarantee how long she would feel this way. “And no, or I was too upset to listen. I remember you said it was beautiful, and kind. I am glad to know that much. I’d want that to remain somewhere.” She tried to imagine something kind coming out of the fae funerary rites Deirdre had allowed her to partake in. It didn’t seem possible, but stranger things had happened in this world.

Deirdre shook her head; Morgan wasting her time worrying about her was not a part of the plan. “Oh, it’s fine. You’re tired now, and if you stop suddenly, I don’t think I’ll remember not to look hurt about it. Like that time when you were massaging my back and got that phone call?” Morgan’s back rubs were a strange occurrence; though more welcome as time progressed. So welcome, in fact, that when Morgan had paused to look at her phone, Deirdre had twisted around with such pain and betrayal in her eyes that she rivaled Anya being told she could not have the food from Deirdre’s plate. Needless to say, such a look could be a powerful thing. And her plan was important. But even so, moods to be doting should be answered, especially if it was what Morgan wanted. “Here, take my hand.” Her wrist was still wrapped from the burn (it would scar, much to her chagrin) but her nails had great luck growing back. “It feels stiff from the nails and, you know, it’s fun to hold.” And she didn’t think she’d suffer too greatly if Morgan abandoned her task. “Well, often, the fae plant trees, or flowers or whole gardens, and take great care to grow them in a certain fashion. Not all fae have the same rites, but I’ve found that practice to be the most common form of remembrance.” She closed her eyes. “There’s this beautiful tree for Lydia in the local aos sí.” She opened her eyes and turned to Morgan with a soft smile, more telling in its emotion than she meant it to be. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me to see it, one day. I’d like to take you.”

“Just in my head, my body doesn’t really, you know...” Morgan mumbled in protest, but she didn’t really mind taking on something more chaste and less charged with memory. She settled in and took Deirdre’s hand, carefully massaging the muscles in her palm and fingers. When Deirdre made her offer however, Morgan went stiff. “Are you…” Sure? That sounded so stupid. “I just mean, I know how important those spaces are to you, and what they’re probably going to think of me, and you by association. I don’t want you to get hurt or wind up in some local fae politics mess because of me when we’re not even--” Together. Us. “I don’t want to taint Lydia’s memory or the closest thing she has to a grave for you. You should be sure…” She finally lifted her eyes to meet Deirdre’s and stilled again, jaw slack, as she took in her expression, how openly she dared to want this. Morgan swallowed thick and shivered, feeling her fear rising. “I always want to be a part of your world, Deirdre,” she whispered, just as earnest. “Of course I would like to. I want you to show me everything, I just...you shouldn’t risk your world for me right now. One day when things are better with us, when you’re really, really sure…” She nodded. Yes. Please. Morgan couldn’t think of anything more precious for them to share, and Deirdre made it sound so simple, even effortless she wondered at her inability to grasp it.

“Well, when your head gets tired…” she let the sentence trail off with a kiss to Morgan’s forehead, as if she could bring life and energy back to it—or bring it rest. “We’re not even—“ Deirdre repeated, filling in the gap. She blanched. “A-are we not still dating?” Had they broken up in some silence that she wasn’t aware of? She knew their circumstance now, but even so, she continued to think of Morgan as her girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if she could think of her any other way. Her plan didn’t include it, didn’t consider it. She faltered.  “Oh, uh, I can just tell them you’re important to me then. They should understand that.” She swallowed. “And it’s us. Our world. The fae world is...yours too. You’re not fae, no, but you’re important to me and I’ve already told you that I don’t want to be where you’re not welcome. I won’t let them say anything about you.” Most fae she spoke to already knew she was in love with a non-fae, and she bore their judgement with a smile. “I’m already really, really sure, I promise. But if it’d be better shared when things between us are less….as they are now, I can wait.” She met Morgan’s eyes and grinned. Hope fluttered in her chest, and gratitude mouthed from her lips. “I’m okay with it,” she assured again. She had been okay with it for quite some time. Gone were the days of fear. She loved Morgan completely now, unrestrained. She couldn’t imagine loving her any other way. “You might still get some harsh comments though...but hopefully we can set them right.”

“I don’t know what we are right now,” Morgan said. More than friends, less than lovers in the strictest sense. They cared, deeply, and Morgan knew that the quiet days ahead of them would be spent figuring out how to be better to each other and themselves. But it didn’t seem right to call this by the same name as what they had before. For the earth’s sake, until recently, Kaden had been more of an emotional support than Deirdre in the wake of Lydia’s death. As Morgan held Deirdre’s gaze, squeezing her hand through her fear, she realized that she took a little comfort in having an escape hatch, in the freedom to think of Deirdre as whatever she needed to from one moment to the next. “I think we’re figuring that out. Or I am, at least,” she said.

But Deirdre was certain. To hear her speak of Morgan as someone to turn away from this place for, to find joy in, you’d think nothing had happened between them at all and Morgan’s choice was a foregone conclusion and everything would somehow be alright even though Morgan’s heart still throbbed with hurt, burning to run and hide. Morgan sputtered for words. “Let’s wait, please, ask me again, l-later, I-I—-” Don't understand how this is so easy for you. I just told you I could hurt you again and I have every good reason to, this shouldn’t be easy for you, but you weren’t the one dropped on her ass and shut out so maybe— Morgan shut her eyes, doing her best to block out the sudden deluge of thought. “I’m scared,” she whispered, voice tremulous. “Can we just lay here?”

“Oh.” Deirdre’s eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly. Her voice was a quiver, small enough to get lost under any other sound. It nearly did; suffocated by their ticking clock. “I understand,” she said, though she didn’t really. Not entirely, at least. There was a small chance Morgan would emerge from her thoughts, and from the passage of time, and decide that she enjoyed being unattached from Deirdre. Her stomach twisted. Her plan began to crumble. “That’s okay.” But it wasn’t really. “I can wait, no matter what conclusion you come to.” And she could, but now her waiting was plagued by strange thoughts. Did she tell people? Would Morgan? Was it wrong to hold her then? Would Morgan be kissing other people? Should Deirdre? Why did Morgan want her here then, if that was the case? What exactly was there to figure out? She asked none of them, and smiled slowly, her brows pulled together. Whatever Morgan came to, Deirdre would accept, what else was there to do? She bit her lip and willed the conversation to move on before she cried quite pathetically about the topic. It was her fault, anyway, and she needed time to parse a new plan in her head.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. For several things, but for the moment, right then, for speaking of Morgan as her love. Perhaps it was a thing to roll out cautiously now; she’d have to think about it. “We don’t have to talk about that. I’m sorry.” She held her tighter, shaking her hand from Morgan so she could clasp both around her. “It’s okay. Yeah, we can just lay here. I’ll be quiet.” She swallowed.

Morgan buried her face in the crook of Deirdre’s neck, eyes squeezed violently shut. Even if the sad puppy swell of Deirdre’s eyes didn’t give her away, she could feel the other woman hurting underneath her. Morgan considered getting up. Don’t do this, don’t make me feel guilty for what you started, don’t make me sorry for being hurt— But more frightening than Deirdre’s devotion was Morgan’s own frustration. She hurt from her loneliness, from the memory of being shut out and rejected, and from backing away from this. This world Deirdre occupied so happily was so close, Morgan could sink her hand into it, but her skin felt like it would erupt in spikes if she did. Everything was fine a minute ago, she could almost believe in sleep again, almost believe in falling into this piece without having to think about it again,  it was so, so fine. Why was she thinking about running now? Why couldn’t she get a grip and just explain herself? (Because her trust was shattered, and her faith in the future as a matter of course along with it. She knew this, but that didn’t make her prickle with something like self-loathing all the same.)

Morgan tried to distract herself with slow, stiff breaths, wrestling her panicked mind for control as she worked her words as steadily as she could get them. “You don’t have to—I didn’t mean it like—I just need a minute. You have to give me a minute, give me time…”

“I’m sor—“ The words died on Deirdre’s tongue. She loosened her grip around Morgan, freeing her to leave if she needed to, yet steady enough against her if she wanted to stay. Morgan had said a minute, and Deirdre counted dutifully in her head. She didn’t speak anymore, nothing about how it was okay or how much she loved her. Her face held a tender expression, though under her affection, she didn’t offer anything more—no pain, no sadness, no confusion. This wasn’t a part of her plan, and she imagined it, Morgan would have been soothed by the show of devotion. It was a look, I still love you, I still want you, I’m here, we can have this. It had been ten seconds when Morgan hadn’t left, Deirdre’s hold tightened. Thirty seconds, she was still there, Deirdre pulled her in again. Sixty seconds. “It’s been a minute,” she said, loosening her grip again. “Do you need another?” She paused before she started the count again. She dared to try something more bold—or in their case, more gentle. “We can go outside. It’s supposed to be cold tonight.”

Morgan scrambled to sit up. “Yes, I need another,” she hissed. There was no anger this time, only a clenched, earnest effort at self-control. “I need five, ten, I don’t know!” Outside sounded good. Calming. Quiet. Morgan made to rush out of the room, maybe what she needed was in the fresh air, or in more time to herself (stars, she’d had so much fucking time to herself already)—Morgan stumbled, crashing into the wall as she slipped on Deirdre’s cane. Deirdre. Right. She picked it up and fumbled to lean it against the couch within reach. Her hands were clumsy and shaking, but at least when it fell for the third time, it was somewhere close. “Ten,” she said suddenly. “You can find me in the garden in ten and ask if I’m ready.” She looked at Deirdre’s sad, giving face, and didn’t know who she was upset with more. She rushed herself back to the door, calling hoarsely behind her, “I’m not where you are right now. You pushed me away too good and I’m just not there right now, I’m—” Sorry, she wanted to say she couldn’t afford to apologize for this. Morgan ran the rest of the way out of the house. It was funny, even when she curled up on the brittle winter grass, riding out her panic with tearful gasps, she curled her hand against herself as if Deirdre’s was still in it.

Deirdre sat up with Morgan, releasing her from her arms. “I’m sor—“ the words died in her mouth again. She wanted to know what she had done, or what she could’ve. Did Morgan want longer than a minute? Should she not have counted? Her answers came tumbling at her, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from apologizing again. She watched Morgan stumble, and her hands reached out and receded like it were a dance. Every time she wanted to help Morgan, she remembered that she had caused this and pulled back. But every time she pulled back, she remembered that she wanted to help her. “Ten.” She repeated; she could do ten. “I didn’t push you awa—“ She swallowed and shut that sentence down. She had been gone for days not by her own desire, and she had grieved so clumsily not by her own understanding. But the semantics weren’t important. Morgan was hurt still. And Morgan needed time. Ten minutes, to be exact. She didn’t ask where Morgan thought she was right now; the only place she’d ever been was where she loved Morgan devotedly and pure. She didn’t ask what it meant that Morgan wasn’t there. (Would Morgan be kissing other people?) She sat still, she watched Morgan leave, and she counted. After two minutes, she realized ten was a long time to be staring at their patio, and turned to the soup. Broccoli and cheddar was a nice flavour, all things considered. It occupied her until six minutes ticked by. It took another two for her to grab her cane and move outside. She leaned up against the frame, calling out, “are you ready?” She moved closer and asked again in a quieter voice.

Morgan had never timed her bouts of panic before, but she could tell a minor episode from something more serious. By the time Deirdre came out, her tremors had ceased and her mind, so tired, was floating somewhere beyond her dead eyed stare into nothing. Maybe it was with the stars. Deirdre had loved to comment on those. The world unfroze at the sound of her voice and Morgan nodded mutely before she realized it was evening and she was laying in the grass and she should probably use her words. Slowly, she pushed herself up until she was sitting. She did not meet Deirdre’s face but she did call out, “...Yes. Thank you,” with only a little embarrassment about her gracelessness.

Deirdre nodded, she had been prepared to start the count again, but wouldn’t act like she wasn’t happy to be by Morgan’s side again. She dug her cane in the ground and limped over there until she was close enough to throw her cane aside and fall to the ground. “What does it?” She asked, trying to scoop Morgan back into her arms. “Is it holding you too tight? Kissing your skin? Is it my words?” She wasn’t sure she could stop, if the answer was loving Morgan, but she could sidestep her displays of affection, if it would help. And though she might just have been asking to be run from again in trying to figure it out, she couldn’t stop until she knew how to be better for Morgan. She needed her answer, she needed her plan, and if it took another ten minutes and another after that, she’d wait. “Should we not talk about us? Whatever’s better, please tell me.” Her arms found their place around Morgan, anchoring herself against her. But loose, as she learned to, until she knew it was okay.

Morgan sagged against Deirdre without protest. It was nice here, in the curtain of her hair, the soft pillow of her chest. She didn’t rush to speak, just in case something clear and helpful came to her out of the ether. When it didn’t, she said, “It’s just so easy for you. I don’t understand how it’s so easy for you. All these plans, these things you want, just talking about them like of course it’s gonna happen and there’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing that’s gonna go wrong...” The Deirdre she’d first known wasn’t like that at all and she found herself envious at this one’s fortitude. Morgan pressed one of Deirdre’s arms harder into her body. “It’s not holding me, I felt okay when you were. Fuck, it even felt good. Everything about how we were on the couch made me feel like, maybe we can do this, maybe it won’t be so hard. We were together and I felt like I was helping you and you were so kind even after the way I’d just been—” Morgan shut her eyes, chasing the memory. “And then you tell me about this huge thing, this amazing, important huge thing you want to do like it’s already decided, or almost decided, and you were so hurt when I said I don’t know what we are, but how could I possibly know? Everything broke! I was alone for almost a week, I spent days before that thinking you would go from pushing away my hands to not wanting to touch me or be with me at all. It’s not easy for me. None of this is easy and I can’t rush it or skip it. Yes, I still have my feelings for you, but that didn’t do anything to help me before this. And yes, I actually felt safe for just a few minutes, but none of that tells me when or if I’m going to be able to trust you enough to really be with you again. I don’t have that to give. And maybe I’m being stupid, but what freaks me out is—I feel like you’re asking me for that trust that I don’t have and I get scared that my only options are to cough it up or hurt you, or else it’s already being decided for me and I’m just supposed to come around...” Morgan pressed the end of her palm to her eyes, a preemptive measure against tears. She might still be on the downslope from her panic if her avalanche of thought was anything to go by, but Deirdre asked, and Morgan wanted to be good to her.

Deirdre eased them down, against the cool grass. “Loving you has always been easy,” she said, as though that might explain it. “Accepting that love...less so, but now that I have...it’s also easy. In that it comes naturally, at least. Like instinct, like the only thing I want to do.” She stared up at the stars, she missed how easy it was to look at them all the way up there and forget what was happening down below. She’d lost that ability sometime in her youth, when looking at them, all she could think about how much it hurt her neck. But that ease had returned to her sometimes, in moments. “The ones we made,” she said after a while. “You asked me once what stars I liked. It’s the ones we made together up on that roof—the line, the squiggle. I tried to tell Lydia about it once, I don’t think she was so amused. But I like to look for them when I need it, they’re easy to find because they’re always there. It’s like that. It’s easy for me because nothing has changed in my heart or mind; it’s always there.” She closed her eyes, committing herself to the darkness without the line, the squiggle. Her heart thrummed slowly in her chest, each beat seemed to say the same thing—a song to Morgan. I love you, I love you, I love you. “I didn’t mean to make it sound that way. I just offered it. I’m just offering all of this. I don’t expect anything from you. It, um—it was sad to hear that you didn’t know what we were. I’m sorry I didn’t hide that better for you. But you don’t need to have it figured out, or trust me, I’m not asking I’m just...offering. Like you can or you can’t or you can sit in the middle it’s okay to me, all of it.” She sighed. “That’s all I meant.” The line and the squiggle, though steadfast, did not bring her answers. Her heart, though singing, did not give her the words to speak. And her mind, though hopelessly devoted, couldn’t untangle this mess. “Let’s just stay here, outside.”

Morgan shifted in Deirdre’s grasp, restless, until she flattened in the grass so the ground held as much of her as possible. For a while she didn’t speak, but stared up at the stars, trying to decide if she really did need to run again. Was it her fear making her skin itch, or was it her beast? Why did she still feel so relieved to have Deirdre next to her if she didn’t want to bundle herself off to deathly ever after? “It was easy for me too, before this,” she said at last. And it’s not a question of if I—love you.” She barely got the words out, breathing them more than speaking. Every time Morgan felt the words on her lips, she feared she was signing herself away to the unknown or admitting to something criminal. But stars above, she really did love her still, so much so it felt like a liability. There wouldn’t be anything to discuss or wait for if she didn’t. “It wouldn’t be fair to be with you without trusting you. And I don’t think I’d want to anyway, not after what we had before. But I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have your feelings either, even if—” She laughed dryly as she finally realized their completely batshit reversal. “Even if, yes, from my own experience trying to date you, sometimes stuffing feelings that frighten the woman you want to spend more time with is the way to go. You follow her cues, you take her bursts of affection and her sudden silences, you try to figure out when she needs to be followed, when she needs you to keep away…” Morgan shrugged. She couldn’t help the way she was now anymore than Deirdre had been able to back then. “I am trying to be better too. This is at least better than what we did the last time I ran out of the room, right…?” Give me some credit for effort here, she asked silently.

She couldn’t help but look up on their constellations with fondness. “You can see both the squiggles out tonight,” she murmured after awhile, leaning a little closer so she could point them out and trace them with her finger. “There’s the little one, and the big guy. And the crooked bone, the pentagram, the great line…” Morgan lowered her hand, letting it fall next to Deirdre’s. Her fingers twitched, hesitating, but eventually slipped underneath the banshee’s and cradled them. She tickled gentle caresses along her fingers and lightly scratched letters into her palm (D-E-I-R-D-R-E). They had played this game on her shoulder once. Deirdre guessed wrong no matter how fast or slow Morgan moved, and she suspected it was just so they could have another innocent excuse to be touching. She could sense that soft place they’d shared on the couch like fresh cookies from a few rooms over. Not close enough to have, but she could find the way eventually if she tried. If she coaxed Deirdre into touching her hair again, or kissing her cheek, something to thrill her out of her fear... Morgan continued to play with their fingers as she thought. Their hands fit so right, and though the touch was only a whisper on Morgan’s own skin, her heart melted and quieted at once. If their world could just be a starry sky and thin grass and flowerbeds, if they could just fall in the water of memory and things hidden and wash themselves free of the past two weeks, there would be no question of if or maybe. Why did she need these questions so badly when ‘together’ was the thought that soothed her the most? She wasn’t sure, only that she did.

Morgan rolled herself until she was nestled against Deirdre, taking the banshee’s hand to cuddle with her. “This isn’t going to be easy for me. You know my history, Deirdre. I’m going to be a mess about this...” She kissed Deirdre’s knuckles and turned to the stars again. “Maybe we need some new constellations. What do you think?”

A thought rattled around in Deirdre’s head. A desperate explanation that she hadn’t left Morgan by her own choice; those days they spent parted were unfairly stolen from her, and her grief was a new creature she didn’t know how to tame. And then wouldn’t it all be okay? Wouldn’t that make all of it one silly mistake? Did she really need to accept that this could be one long, drawn-out ending? Things should’ve been okay, shouldn’t they have? But she had grown tired of fighting for herself; all she wanted now was to hold Morgan. And if this really was the end, she didn’t want to waste precious moments talking about herself. She shifted and tightened her hold, pulling Morgan flush against her body. “But I can’t have my feelings…” she mumbled, chasing the thought away with a sigh. “No, you’re right. It wouldn’t be fair. And anyway, don’t worry about me, it’s not so bad.” No, it was terrible. It was worse than bad, worse than worse. For a moment, she was lulled into thinking the comparison of this to how Deirdre had once acted would make the weight easier to carry. But this felt personal; it was her fault. She wanted to go back and ask that Morgan if it had felt personal to her then. Then she’d say it wasn’t, and ask if this was. “You want to feel good,” she said plainly, “and I can’t do that for you, not the way you’d need it now. You could get other people to make you feel good. I’m sure you know that already...but I just wanted to say it was okay. It might just be better...so it’s less scary.” Deirdre summoned forth every piece of training she knew about keeping her emotions hidden. She prayed that the tremble in her body and the quiver in her voice was invisible. “I mean you could sleep with other people, if you want.” She thought she did a good job of sounding measured, despite the circumstance. “A-and it was better. Thank you for that. And I’m sorry.” She’d gotten to the point now that she stopped knowing what she was apologizing for—every sentence dribbled apologetically. She might as well apologize for breathing or blinking or being herself; anything to make it right. Maybe time would take pity on her and skip to the end.

But she didn’t want Morgan to feel bad, and so she shut her mouth and dug her face into the crook of Morgan’s neck. Humor bubbled inside of her—wasn’t that what Morgan had tried when she was grieving? But where humor boiled and popped, where she pulled the strength to cover her emotional tracks, guilt toiled. She didn’t like keeping herself from Morgan like this, and especially not when she’d made the commitment to be more honest. It was wrong. It felt wrong. She raked her teeth along her skin, nipping at her shoulder; a distraction that went both ways. She couldn’t tell what Morgan was drawing in her skin, and she couldn’t ask to have it again. She got lost somewhere at the fourth line, so she made her own words roughly against Morgan’s flesh. Symbolically; even Deirdre thought it would be gauche if she started moving her teeth around in the shape of letters. Some acts of devotion were better left in the mind. “I like your mess,” she mumbled there, lifting her head up to take in the stars again. “And it’s fine, however it comes out, whatever you decide…” she trailed off. Sure enough, there were both squiggles, the bone and the pentagram. “I like our old constellations,” she smiled despite the pain that thrummed along her body. “But we can get new ones.” Deirdre lifted her free hand and traced the outline of one—once part squiggle and pentagram. “That one kind of looks like roadkill. See, it’s all flat and there are the ears.”

“Oh. Right.” Morgan burrowed her face into Deirdre, trying not to pout too obviously. I don’t want to sleep with other people, she wanted to say. Which was weird, because if Deirdre wasn’t so steadfastly monogamous, there would be a few friends in town she would consider propositioning for some casual fun. But Deirdre was that way, and Morgan didn’t want to hurt her. Please don’t say this, don’t hurt yourself like this. But could she really say that when she was asking for things to stay more open ended? Wasn’t that just more confusing, more cruel? Morgan shivered. What if they made contingencies for getting through the day more easily? What if Morgan could just stop feeling the echo of her world coming apart whenever Deirdre flexed her devotion like it was this great, infallible thing? “I um...don’t really know that I could...do that with someone else,” Morgan said, doing her best not to sound too upset. “But thank you. For...offering, for what this means…” Another, more distressing thought caught her: what if Deirdre wanted this too? Did she miss being pleasured, kissed, doted on? She wouldn’t, right? She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she felt like Morgan was too much of a broken mess to be with again, right? “Y-you know, it’s not even that I need to feel good,” she tried to explain. Well, it sort of was, she was so tired of her hurt and of herself. Any kind of relief from that with someone would do so much, she couldn’t even imagine it. But she didn’t want to invest her energy into looking somewhere else. She wanted this. “I just…” Need to be less terrified of going to pieces again. Need to feel like she wouldn’t. Not like she had on those days. Morgan shrugged, haplessly. She didn’t feel like it would make any sense, or any difference.

Stupidly, she found herself flashing a wide eyed look of affection at Deirdre as she said she liked her mess. “Really…?” With all the crying and the going from cuddling to panicking because stars forbid she surrender to some euphoric safety so absurdly complete there was nothing to catch her if she fell. Morgan kissed Deirdre’s knuckles again, harder, more urgently. I know it sounds fucked up when I can’t make up my mind, but please don’t give up on me, she wanted to say. Don’t build me a road away from you, just give me time, let me figure out my time… She cleared her throat, swallowing anymore building waterworks and followed Deirdre’s finger paint a new constellation. “Oh, I see it,” she said, beaming through her distress. “And what about that cluster over there, wait, that’s just Mars, but around it, there’s...maybe a chicken foot? Or maybe it’s a funny smile?” She wanted to press herself in harder, but she worried for Deirdre’s injuries, and how much she’d hurt herself for Morgan already. If only their hurt could unstitch itself and reform in a new shape as easily as their made up patterns in the stars.

Deirdre had rolled, more or less, practically, right on top of Morgan. “Hey,” she cooed, trying to stamp Morgan’s thought out. “It’s okay.” She pushed her face against her cheek, pressing her nose there and then her lips. “You could just make out with them. Or—well, it doesn’t matter so much. Just, whatever you need. It’s okay. If you change your mind about this tomorrow, it’s still okay. Or if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you don’t—“ She swallowed, trailing a series of rough kisses back from her cheek to ear. “—stop yourself on my account. That’s all. That’s all.” She wasn’t sure why she was arguing a point that made her insides twist with fear. But by way of her instincts, she felt some manner of distress in Morgan, and moved to soothe it—even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was soothing, or if she had. She held her lobe between her teeth, tugging gently before she pressed another firm kiss there. The desire to capture Morgan’s lips started small, so small she could ignore it as she lingered there, trying to soothe. But it spread quick and vicious, like wildfire raging up and across her body. It would have been okay if only she didn’t lean back, if only she didn’t catch Morgan’s eyes on her for the flicker they had been. Her body shook. “Fuck,” she hissed and rolled back, still pressed against Morgan as firm and tight as she could be, but now acutely aware of the places they touched; they fit. Their legs tangled, her arm around her, Morgan’s lips against her knuckles. She burned. Every injury faded away until all that was left was desire, longing, and Morgan. It was bound to happen to her again at some point, she figured. But even flush with want, she could put herself aside.

“It—um—“ Deirdre swallowed, her voice was a deep rumble, but she chased the sound away by clearing her throat. “I—I’m not sure I like the funny smile. Feels like it’s laughing at me, and I can’t ask it what’s so funny. But a chicken foot I can deal with. You mean a dead chicken foot, right?” Not that there was any other noteworthy kind of chicken foot. But like this, she could distract herself with the stars. Or so she thought. Even as she lifted her hand to point to a new design, she brushed Morgan and the fire found fuel all over again. She hated the stupidity of it; Morgan wanted time and Deirdre wanted to give it to her but her body could be strangely impatient. It didn’t understand why they couldn’t be together. Now it burned, and the fumes claimed bits of her thoughts. Her fingers curled against the cool grass, pulling it up. She could remember each time they’d laid down—when they’d just kissed, when they’d done more. Over there was where Morgan had her fire for Beltane, where she held tenderly the memory of the Morgan who wept because she’d felt good finally. And, yes, as her body wanted to remind her, where they’d had sex. “That one looks kind of like another piece of roadkill.” She pointed it out. “Maybe a raccoon though, it’s got a long tail—see there?”

Wherever Morgan’s fear lived, it wasn’t where Deirdre’s lips touched her. She pressed into the touches, mewling quietly in the back of her throat as Deirdre sank her teeth into her. She dug her hands into her arm, fastening them together. This was the place she missed, where she was unfolded so carefully, she almost didn’t feel herself letting go at all. She couldn’t stifle the needy whine that came out of her when Deirdre rolled back. Morgan was still close, and she could rest Deirdre’s fingers against her lips and take a fingertip gently to her mouth and imagine that shore in their imaginary world washing over them. She reached for Deirdre’s cheek and stroked it with great care as she spoke. Morgan didn’t need her full sense of touch to know she was hanging on by a thread. Her voice quivered out of control, her hand trembled in her grasp, and for some reason Deirdre was willing to send her off to some woman’s bed if it would make her feel better and break and keep breaking, until Morgan was whole enough to come back on her own. Stars above, she couldn’t bear for them to be like this.

Carefully, she pulled herself close until their foreheads touched, and drew her hand down until her fingers brushed along Deirdre’s lip. She smiled with all the tenderness she had in her. “I did mean a dead chicken foot,” she said with a breathless laugh. “But that’s not what I really want to say. What I want to say is…” So much. Too much. Did Deirdre really love her so much that she would offer up a freedom that would break her own heart? But Morgan knew she did, even if it didn’t make sense. It was in her eyes, in her painful restraint. Her poor banshee, conditioned to withstand so much and falling apart so horribly because Morgan had insisted so many times that her feelings were precious. Would Deirdre take back this gift, maybe? No, Morgan had made her need to choose freely. It wasn’t the outcome she was especially concerned with (her heart would come home to Deirdre’s comfort, or it wouldn’t and she would make do with something much less after all). What Morgan wanted most was to have the power, and the choice. There was comfort there, in being the one with all the cards, but she didn’t want Deirdre’s heart to be one of them. That wasn’t something she wanted to play with or deliberate like it was a neutral object. It wasn’t. Stars help her and her mess, it wasn’t. So what did she want to say? How did she ask for what they both seemed to want so desperately?

“I think what I’m most scared of right now is falling apart as badly as I did again, and I don’t know if that’s something you can be sorry for, or fix,” she said at last. “And whether that’s just this moment and being close enough to really feel you after so long and knowing you’d let me go if I asked, or if that’s how it really is, I think I want to be done punishing you for what happened. Those are different things, see? And, yes, I still want to know what you believe in after all this, what your principles are going to be now, how you want to live with what you did to those people and who you want to be, that’s a really important conversation we need to have, but I don’t want to do it right now.” She paused to brush her thumb along Deirdre’s lip and meet her gaze, trying to gauge how well she was following her. “I’m not, um, not not-scared, like I said, but what I want right now is to take away a little bit of our pain. And I want you to know where I...feel like I’m home. And I’d like to do that by kissing you. Really, really kissing you. I don’t know what to do about what’s going on with me, but I know that much. But only if you want, if it won’t hurt.” Her thumb plucked Deirdre’s lower lip as she lowered her hand to cup her chin. They were so close, they might even be touching already and Morgan just didn’t notice.”You’ve hurt enough. Just tell me…”

Deirdre was sure she was dreaming. The cool of Morgan’s forehead against hers, the feeling of Morgan’s fingers—gentle, too gentle—across her face; all of it was too good to be true. She closed her eyes and opened them again; Morgan was still there, still touching her, still gentle. She looked up to the sky with its lines and squiggles, pentagrams, roadkill and chicken feet; Morgan was still there, still touching her, so gentle. Wasn’t this too much for her? It was almost too much for Deirdre, who didn’t have the heart or capacity to run away from it. “T-the roadkill…” she tried to fill the silence. She felt like begging her; please, please, look at the stars and not me. If she couldn’t kiss her, if she couldn’t love her, this was too much. But she couldn’t summon the words to tell her to stop either. Did it help, she wondered. Did this tenderness not mean the same to her as it did to Deirdre? Questions she would not ask. Instead, she watched Morgan, waiting. Searching her eyes for the answer that would fall out of her mouth a moment later.

It would have been easy to lean in and take what her body burned to have, what Morgan seemed to want to give. But for all of her desire, her heart continued to be stuck in one place. “But what about you?” She asked, sitting up, rubbing her eyes and forcing her body to stop all of its whining and yearning. “If it’ll hurt you more to do it, if it’ll confuse you or tamper with your choices then I don’t….I don’t want to.” She turned to look at Morgan. Her lips parted and drew together into a thin line, parted and thinned, parted and thinned. “I–I understand what you’re saying, I think. But please don’t worry about my pain. It’s fine, it’ll go away. But you–you–“ Her gaze fluttered around their backyard, as if answers might’ve lurked in the shadows. When she turned to look at Morgan again, she asked this time if she was sure. If she knew exactly what she was asking and exactly what it would mean. If she was okay ignoring her fear for the moment. It was a lot for her expression to say, a whole conversation unto itself, but she needed to know. Is this okay? Would it be? Was she sure? “You don’t have to, you know that, right?” Of course she did, of course she thought about that. Maybe they needed to have their conversations first before they crossed this line. They had their practice from the past, and the hodgepodge order of romantic operations they followed. But Deirdre had always liked their mess, their freedom of affection, and she leaned back down beside Morgan, forehead-to-forehead. More than anything else, she knew this: she was tired of all the time she wasted not being with Morgan when Morgan was all she wanted. And whatever it meant to be with her—waiting, not-kissing, holding her in silence—she would do it. There was nothing else she’d rather do. “Will it be just once?” She asked. “Because I can’t—well, I can, if that’s better. But you have to tell me so I can take as much air into my lungs as possible first. If it’s just one, I’d like to make it as long as I can.” She paused. “Only if it won’t hurt you too.”

Morgan probably should have thought of Deirdre’s questions in the half second she’d played this in her mind. But in her surprise, she only went still, following Deirdre’s movements, trying to keep up with her arguments, which endeared her with their selflessness as much as it maddened her, because here they were on the same page with their desire, again, and no one was crying and Morgan’s head buzzed with want, and how could they seriously be waiting while their stars aligned this perfectly and there was no telling how many minutes or hours it would be until they fell out of place again? Impulse control had never been their strong point when they were apart.

“Where I’m at right now is wanting to kiss you more than I’m afraid of breaking because of you,” she said simply. “And yeah, that’s new, and I don’t know how long it’ll be this way but...I mean, we already have safewords and touching games, right?” They didn’t have any for this situation yet, but Morgan trusted herself to come up with one in a minute if she needed to. “We can do things to manage our comfort levels and check in and make us...more safe.” She gave Deirdre a meaningful look that she hoped expressed how much she was trying despite the impulsiveness of her idea. “Tell me to stop or pause and I will. And you’ll do the same for me. Hasn't that always been true anyway?” She knew she was flattening a complicated situation into a few measures for the here and now, but ‘now’ was all Morgan could understand with any confidence. “I don’t ask you for things I don’t want. Which, considering my last few requests, this might seem weird and confusing, but that’s what this already feels like for me! Everything I’ve said to you tonight has been true, I promise!” She laughed sadly, well aware of the contradictions at play. “Even this part, about wanting to kiss.” She brushed her nose against Deirdre’s as she laid back down, welcoming her into her arms. “You can say no, we can go inside and get you cleaned up first, you can do whatever you need, whatever you want. But I don’t feel like it’s gonna hurt.” Morgan let out a shaky breath to steady her voice, hoping desperately that she was right. “I think it’s gonna be like having you back, and having a good piece of us back, too. And I definitely want that one big, long kiss to start with, but I’m feeling very open to more after that too.”

Deirdre nodded; at some point, she’d stopped parsing what Morgan was saying and had been watching her lips. At another, the blood thrumming in her ears had grown so intense she stopped hearing her entirely. Once she understood that this was okay—through some kind of osmosis—the rest didn’t seem so important. She moved, more or less, practically right on top of Morgan, and closed the distance between them. It had been weeks since she’d last kissed Morgan like this—fierce and heady—but her body remembered it just as much as it did breathing. She knew what Morgan liked, how Morgan liked it. She had one hand pressed against the small of her back, urging them closer. And the other tangled in her hair, tugging her back. It was a system of pushing and pulling, one her body ached to explore. Morgan was right, in the end, it didn’t hurt. And it did feel like being home, being them, having a shard of their world back. For as long as Deirdre could keep her mouth to Morgan’s—she would later thank her banshee lungs for their service—she could forget why exactly she wasn’t supposed to take this in the first place. It was always like this, just the two of them. Like they carved their own pocket of space and time and curled up in it together. She kissed her like she loved her more than air. She kissed her like she was sorry for the things she’d done, and hadn’t even done yet. She kissed her like she’d forgiven her for her sins too. She kissed her like revelation and benediction. Then she kissed her like a woman whose lungs were burning, but was too stubborn to part. She imagined that having passed out because she wanted to keep kissing Morgan for longer was funny, but ultimately meant that if there were to be more kissing after, she’d miss it. Now, if her mother had said while drowning her that these were skills she could use to make out with the woman she loved for longer, she would have been notably more excited about it. But she hadn’t, and now panic and old memory threatened to bubble over if she continued.

With a whine, she parted, rolling onto her back as she heaved in air. The world drizzled back into focus. First with the grass, cool and sharp. Then the wind, sporadic and whistling. And finally the sky, brilliant and familiar. Deirdre turned to Morgan, pressing her forehead to hers again. Her lips brushed hers, as if to ask quietly if she was still feeling open to more—and if that openness meant right now. There were mistakes to correct in that other kiss, after all. Things she had to make better. “How are you?” She breathed. “Are you feeling okay?”

Morgan devoured Deirdre’s lips as they kissed. She was starving. Stars above, the ache in her chest was starving the whole time for this: her touch, hard and tender and loving and right; the tickle of her tongue; the bite of her teeth; the home built by the push-pull of her hands on Morgan’s body and Morgan’s needy sounds in reply. There was no history, no pain, and no fear. Whatever between them mingled back and forth was beyond that. Morgan whined against Deirdre’s lips in welcome as much as longing. She could tumble head first into Deirdre like this and think nothing of it til it was too late. It was so easy, the snugness of Deirdre’s hold was almost like warmth, and it had been so long since she’d been warm. With each pull, the gravity around their affection grew heavier, and Morgan couldn’t quite remember why she wasn’t supposed to make herself a wholesale offering, not when this was the best she’d felt in weeks.

When they parted, Morgan stayed where she lay on the ground, gathering her bearings. Her body was still whole, her heart was still quiet, the world was still in place. I am here, she told herself. I am here. I am. I am. I am.

The smile she gave Deirdre as she came close again grew all its own, its tenderness unbidden and unbothered. “I’m okay,” she said, pressing a chaste kiss to emphasize her point. “In fact, I just had an idea for us that I think you’ll like. The first of which involves carrying you back inside. And I’m not accepting negotiations on that one. I can already see your nose turning color from the cold.” Morgan gave it a gentle boop, then sat up, gathering Deirdre and her cane into her ams and carrying her back to the great room. She set her down with care, and, eager to stay latched to her body in case the spell of comfort was broken by distance, settled herself at her side, cheek resting against her shoulder. “This is related, but before I explain anything, can you tell me how your body feels? I know there’s a lot to negotiate between your pain and healing and wanting to be like this, but I really don’t want you to hurt right now, Deirdre.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’m turning color from the cold but—oh!” Before Deirdre could get out some clever words about the heat of her body, she was up in Morgan’s arms, laughing as they moved. It felt beautifully normal for them, and with the ease, a pang of guilt. She remembered now why her body craved Morgan’s with such intensity, and why she couldn’t ask the things she wanted to ask. I missed you, she had wanted to say. I love you. Her laughter fell off her lips just in time for her body to fall on to their couch. Should she not be so happy now, knowing Morgan was still in the place of decision? But she was made blissful by simple things and, namely, Morgan-related things; kissing her, being with her, talking to her, listening to the things she had to say. Deirdre swallowed. “It feels…” she wrapped her arms around Morgan and thought about it. Confusion crawled across her face, but she continued to answer the question. “It feels fine? Good, even...if that’s okay. Light.” Happy. But even if that part was obvious, she didn’t admit it. The body could be such a simple creature, happy when held or loved. It didn’t understand, but Deirdre did. “Uh, you mean the pain from the injuries, right? They’re okay. The more you forget about them, the less they hurt.” And she had forgotten about a great deal in moments prior. “I’m okay, I mean. Are you? Is something wrong? What did you want to say?”  

Morgan lifted her head to kiss Deirdre’s cheek once, then twice, close to the sly curve at the corner of her mouth she so loved to feel against her lips when she was alive. “I’m okay. And what I’m going to suggest we do tonight is hopefully going to help us stay okay. Or um, me, I guess.” She nuzzled her and tried to ignore the constricting feeling creeping into her chest. In their house, the world seemed real again, and she saw the ghost of her begging Deirdre to talk to her playing alongside the ghosts of them dancing and making love and wiping each other’s tears. Morgan fumbled quickly for her phone and brought up the timer app. She set it to three minutes, but didn’t start. “You once told me when I was really afraid of something good to just take it in small pieces, a little at a time. So what if we did that, but with...touching.” She met her eyes slowly, hoping this didn’t sound stupid or insulting. “We take turns, we say how we want to be touched for the next three minutes, and that’s as far as we have to think or agree to go. You could tell me you want me to play with your hair, or whisper in your ear or...anything. Anything you want me to do in three minutes, I’d like to try. And I’ll tell you, you don’t have to guess or worry, because I’ll just be telling you, for the next three minutes, I want you to hold me like you used to and kiss me slow and play with my hair. Please. A-and we can renegotiate if the other doesn’t want to do it, obviously. We don’t have to start the timer until we’ve agreed. And we can call stop at the end of an interval if we need, or before, but it’s just three minutes so I don’t think there’s going to be time for any weird surprises.” She bit her lip, balanced on the edge of excitement and embarrassment. “What do you think?”

Upon hearing this was something that would help Morgan, Deirdre perked up. She half sat up, so she could look at Morgan better, propped up on her elbows. She braced for the worst of it; actually, no more kissing ever, I hate you and your breath stinks (the last part was strange because Morgan couldn’t taste or smell, really, but she worried about it all the same). But giddy from their kiss, she felt like she could take anything--even the stinky breath bit. Still, her relief then, to hear that it wasn’t that, was palatable. Though she felt like she could laugh--did I say that? Actually I meant take the good in really large pieces, like one hour at a time. “May I?” She asked, reaching out for Morgan’s phone. She held it tenderly in her hands and stared at the timer. It took her awhile to figure out how to work the app, but once she got it, she flipped it back around to show Morgan: 00:03:01. “One second extra. Can I ask for that? Just one second more.” She held the phone back out to Morgan and smiled. By any standards, one second wasn’t a lot, but it was just enough. To hold her one second more, kiss her one second longer, feel her here just another second...that felt like its own infinity to her. A small gift, she thought, if it didn’t feel like too much for Morgan. If one second wouldn’t make the difference between good and bad. “I think it’s a fine idea, actually. I like it. If you wanted more than three minutes, you’d ask for another go? And what we’re doing right now, this would count as touching, right? And if you wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t have to say anything you could just...end the timer early.” She paused, her smile grew just a little more. “I like that.”    

Morgan nodded, “We just go three minutes at a time, taking our turns, until we want to stop. We don’t have to think about how long or short it’s going to be in all. We just take our little steps. You give to me, and I give to you, whatever we’re comfortable with having. And that way...maybe this part doesn’t have to hurt, for either of us. The stopping or the...any of it.” She looked down at the extra second, frowning slightly. Three was what she trusted herself most with. Three was more than one and less than five, which was where things could start to get dicey, she felt. Was it really that measly? Couldn’t it be enough if there was another coming right after? Did Deirdre need more from her that badly? It was just a second. Behind it, yes, there were a million and one wants, but it was just a second. An extra second was a lot less to ask for than a trip to the magic fae village where they might stay an hour and come home a week later. It’s just a second. “You can have one more second, yes. That’s okay,” she said. Then, clearing her throat. “I don’t know about how much just being next to you counts, but maybe it should, or...I don’t know. I came up with this sometime in the last five minutes.” She scoffed at herself, wondering if she was just throwing in another complication. This was too much thinking, not enough kissing, or cuddling, or-- “Can we just try now? What I said before, about holding me like you used to, with me kind of in your lap, and kissing me slow, and my hair-- if that’s still okay, could you please just be doing that? And then you can tell me how you want me to touch you after that?” Her brows met in a timid plea. Her hand clenched around her phone, thumb hovered over the start. Could this be enough? Could this be simple and enough right now?

Deirdre frowned and reached back for the phone, adjusting the time back to its plain three minutes. “No,” she sighed, her voice warm with care, “not like that. Not if it sounds like it just might be too much. Not if what you’re thinking is that it’s just a second.” She eyed the time, devoid of her special second. Guilt surged; what was she thinking? “They add up. Three minutes is a time you decided on to feel safe with, I shouldn’t have asked for more. I’m sorry.” Deirdre shifted, leaning up against the arm of the couch. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember the ways in which she used to sit. She wiggled awkwardly, trying to find it. “Of course we can,” she smiled softly. Three minutes was a lot, three minutes was more than enough. Yet there was something strange about knowing it was numbered; that without fail, in three minutes, it would end. There was a comfort in uncertainty, a hope. Could hope live in three minute intervals? There was something to cling to in the extra second, but not here--not in the three minutes. “Do you want to come closer first? I’ll start the timer as soon as you’re ready.” She smiled, setting Morgan’s phone on the table, her finger hovering over the button. She waited for Morgan’s okay before she pressed it, scooping her love into her arms. Her mind kept its own time, but even with the ticking clock, she was careful not to rush herself. In these moments, she never loved Morgan like there was a number on her mind, and she wouldn’t now. She kissed her slow, as instructed; played with her hair as though she might always; and held her tight, as if she didn’t know what it meant to let her go. In three minutes, they wouldn’t have this anymore. But until then, the world was theirs.

Morgan surrendered to Deirdre’s touch, pulling herself as snugly into her lap as she could. She was everything she had asked for and more, with the care that went with each pull and stroke. The tension in Morgan’s shoulders eased just a little and she moaned little encouragements to her as they kissed deeper, harder. Her hands clenched around Deirdre’s shoulders when the alert on the timer went off. Morgan reached to silence it, then brought her hand back to its spot cupping the back of the banshee’s head. Her lips tingled from the rough pull of the last kisses and the sensation made her grin with a hint of heady satisfaction. “That was really nice,” she whispered in Deirdre’s ear, tracing the tip of her finger around the shell. “It’s your turn, if you want it. I feel okay, good even.” She pulled away to meet her eyes and gauge her response. “You just have to ask.”

Deirdre knew the three minutes would end before the alarm pierced across their air. She kept time in her head faithfully; she had always been good keeping measure. And as she had guessed, three minutes was hardly enough, and there was no extra second to cling to. She closed her eyes, knowing they often revealed far too much to Morgan, and laughed the rest of her thoughts away. Three minutes was better than none, she reasoned. And if this was what Morgan needed to feel safer, then she wouldn’t complain. In truth, Morgan was doing a lot to keep them whole and Deirdre knew she should’ve felt better about it. But it was like this:

Counting time made it real. Marking their ends and beginnings gave them life. In three minutes she would be born to die when an alarm told her to. And she would know, every time, that it would only be three minutes. Not a second more. Then she’d pick from a list of her body’s desires for the most acceptable piece of affection that could break itself to fit in three minutes. And again, she would be born to die. When she was drowned to her mother’s slow internal clock--if she said two minutes, it was never two minutes--it summoned a similar sense of dread. Knowing at the end, she’d do it again. Another three minutes.

But three minutes was better than none. And even if hope couldn’t be born then, perhaps kindness could be. Deirdre opened her eyes and smiled. Her body did thank her for this, and her lips burned with remembrance. But beside her strange distaste for the measuring of their affection, she had a stronger aversion to being made to decide things. There were a lot of things she wanted to do, one was not better than the other. One was not more important. And only a few were acceptable for the moment, even less for Morgan’s current state. “Can’t I just give you my three minutes?” She asked. “I’d rather do what you want and I just...I just want to hold you, that’s all I can think of right now. But it sounds kind of--” Like a mood killer, and more so after just making out. “I’m just a little put on the spot right now.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe you can give me my three minutes to think this over? No--don’t--don’t! That was a joke.”  

Morgan withdrew her hand to give Deirdre a break from her teasing. “That’s okay,” she said. “But I do think...I want you to feel okay asking for things, and for us to be more comfortable making adjustments without getting really sad about it. I know decisions aren’t your favorite, but you don’t have to overthink it. Whatever comes to you at the moment is good. If you wanted me to hold you or just stroke your side for three minutes, I think that would be time well-spent. If this, us, is going to work even better than it used to, we should both probably put at least a little of our energy into thinking of what we want and not just how we can serve each other, as wonderful as that can be most of the time.” She smiled kindly and picked up her phone before settling back against Deirdre’s chest. “But this is pretty spur of the moment, so I hope you know you don’t have to feel obligated to ask for anything just for my...weird game, either. Would it be okay if you just played with my ear like I was before with you and gave me little kisses all over while you hold me for three more minutes? And then we can do something else if you’d rather not keep up with this.”

“But I don’t...want...anything…” Deirdre sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, your idea is good. And it’ll help you, and it’ll be good for us I just…” Morgan settled against her and Deirdre’s arms rose up, but hovered around Morgan. If there were going to be rules, she needed them to be clear enough to follow. “C-can I hold you now or should that be timed?” She asked, arms raised and quivering. “It’s just---it’s the time. I can’t know it’ll be three minutes and not a second more. If you just make it less than three minutes, but you don’t tell me how long, that’ll be better. I could do that.” Her arms sagged, victim to gravity. “No, your ‘weird game’ is a good idea, Morgan. I’ve just always enjoyed the...freedom of our affection. Of just doing what felt good one moment to the next. But I know this will be better for you, so I want to try it. And I don’t mind, really. Ironically, it’ll take me some time to get over the three minute part. Because it ends, Morgan. It ends and you know it does and you can feel it and then you have to feel it again. And maybe that feels like a relief to you but it is tormenting to me. But not if I don’t know it. I know so many things, Morgan, but I don’t want to know how this ends.” She shifted again, finally finding her place on the couch. “If you can just let me hold you for some random amount of time under three minutes, I think I’d feel better about it.” She paused and eyed the phone. “A-and maybe if the alert wasn’t so jarring. But at that point, I’m asking for too much, and I shouldn’t, I shouldn't.” She sighed and went back to massage the bridge of her nose. “B-but I can do what you want, I don’t mind doing that. I can do that. I can play with your ear and kiss you over.”

Morgan took Deirdre’s hand from her nose and cradled it carefully. “First of all, unless I indicate otherwise, holding can be a freebie. Secondly, neither of us knows how this,” she emphasized the word meaningfully to hold the two of them and everything they were and could be, “ends. There’s so many possibilities for us, and I think more than a couple of them are pretty good. Thirdly, I will adjust the time the way you’ve asked me to, and I can lower the volume on my phone or set it to vibrate. Fourth: you are allowed to ask for things. I want you, very much, to ask for and tell me what you need and want.” She threaded their fingers together and gave Deirdre’s hand a squeeze. “I’d show you the time as proof, but that would spoil the surprise,” she said softly. “Take a little bit to collect yourself, okay? And you can tell me when to start, if you still want to.”

If she closed her eyes and just let Morgan’s words wash over her, it was like nothing had happened at all. Deirdre blinked, perplexed. Was this how Morgan had felt, earlier? But that was different because Deirdre’s heart hadn’t changed. She stayed still for a moment, watching Morgan. Then, suddenly: “why are you being nice to me?” Was this, perhaps, the moment of affection before Morgan would leave? Those she had almost come to expect now, those brought with them the familiarity of pain. But this kindness was not as habitual as the changing of bandages or cooked meals. This was a special kindness, a girlfriend-kind of nice. “You know what I want,” she said. “As for what I need that’s just...well, I don’t really know. But I don’t understand why you’re--you said that you--we’re not--” She swallowed. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.” But she had no more hands to get to her face with, claimed by Morgan’s grip. Her plea turned desperate, sincere, “what am I supposed to do, Morgan?”

Morgan’s heart sank. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for right now, Deirdre,” she murmured. “There’s no reason to be sorry, you don’t have to be. Hey--” she cupped her face and met her eyes, “I’d like to bring you close to me and wait for your breathing to steady a little. Is that okay with you?” Deirdre’s face was one big look of confusion, but she didn’t withdraw or tense, so Morgan went ahead and shifted them on the couch so she could hold her in a more comforting position. “Those are some...really big questions and I don’t know how many answers I’ve got, but I'm going to think while you breathe how we like to.” Morgan tapped the counting rhythm on Deirdre’s shoulder and tried to figure herself out.

She had thought, when the idea came to her, that their game would be the perfect blend of sentimentality and relationship building practice. Like a model student, Morgan had been attentive to her reading. Not taking disagreements and rejections personally was a little hard (they spent so much of their waking lives together, how could it not be a little personal? How could there not be something for her to change or fix to make things better? Herself better?) but it came to her mind now as she tried to coax Deirdre into breathing steady and focus on what was before her rather than thinking of all the ways she’d dug her heels into the ground about this in the first place. She probably should have cracked open a book or two about managing intimacy before trying this, but at least she was able to tell herself she didn’t really know better than this necessarily...

At last Morgan said, “So, I don’t actually know what you want right now in an immediate, tangible, practical sense. There’s that.” The only short answer she had to offer. Maybe she should’ve thrown in some more adjectives to make it last longer. Morgan sighed and let that go. Just be honest, she reminded herself. “I love you, Deirdre. I need more freedom and space than usual right now because I feel really, deeply broken and I desperately need to heal into a different shape than the one I had before. But I love you, and you are where my heart feels at home. What I want, long term, is a life with you that’s good and makes us both happy and fulfilled. What I want short term, is...kind of a mess, if you haven’t noticed.” She laughed dryly. “And you know, maybe there’s a textbook or three out there that’ll tell me it was a huge mistake, but kissing you in the grass made everything hard disappear and I actually felt strong enough to try something to help us instead of being afraid of our feelings and running or shutting down or lashing out. So, it was good for something, even if it was maybe really impulsive.” Fuck, she hadn’t answered anything outright yet. “I don’t know if I’m making much sense, but I’m being nice because you matter to me and I would rather us stay together than anything else, even if needing some of the stuff I’ve asked for makes it seem otherwise.” She pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Deirdre’s head. “What do you want to do, Deirdre…?”

Though in the moment it felt unnecessary, Deirdre breathed as Morgan had taught her months ago. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. And as she breathed, she waited and she listened and she noticed: Morgan didn’t sound angry like she had before. She didn’t sound as plagued by fear or hurt. Knowing this, Deirdre found some part of her uncorking, as if it was safe to slither out. Like they might be able to talk like they used to. “Okay,” she breathed, she reached over to the table and grabbed one of the markers she’d used for her whiteboard. She rolled up her robe sleeve and uncapped the marker, screwing it into the back. “I want to help you, Morgan,” she said. This was both simple and true, and perhaps true because it was simple. “But I can’t do that properly because I don’t know what you need.” She started writing on her arm; no touching, no kissing, no holding for too long, no declarations of love. “I don’t mind giving you what you need. If that’s space, or time, or less affection...that’s okay. That’s always been okay. But I can’t understand your boundaries because you haven’t told me. I’m not your girlfriend but you won’t see other people. And kissing wasn’t okay, and we agreed on waiting a week, and then it was. And holding you was sometimes too much but not when done for three minutes at a time? And saying I love you was bad but now it’s fine?” She scribbled around her arm, trying to make amendments until all she was left with was a black mess. She stared at it, hoping it would make sense.

“I want us too, in the long term. And I love you too. And I told you I would wait, and I don’t mind space or time or anything else...and I understand if your mind changes, or if one thing that wasn’t okay now suddenly is...but I didn’t know what was okay to begin with. I don’t.” Deirdre looked up, rolling up her other sleeve, this arm was covered with bandages but she’d write across the bumpy surface if she had to. “I just want to know what I can do; what’s good for you and what isn’t. That’s what I want for the–um–short term, the immediate. Please. I-I know you blame me for—I know it was my fault but I—“ Deirdre sighed and slumped, “I’d just like to do what’s right for us. And I’ve wanted to talk to you, like we always do, but you were so angry or sad or it was too much and I just...I can’t figure it out by myself, Morgan.”

Morgan winced at the black scrawl taking over Deirdre’s bandages. She averted her gaze, mumbling a sad, “I get it, I get it…” She waited for Deirdre to finish before saying anything else. “I swear to you, I didn’t ask for those things to be cruel or confusing,” she said quietly. “I don’t even know what my rules are, they keep changing. Letting go of some of that anger and starting to forgive you the other day helped a lot, I think, but I know that’s not a full answer. I do get it. I’m just...a mess. I don’t know how else to put it. I’m still figuring things out for myself. If I had to guess, as far as today goes, telling me to take a trip with you that might zap away weeks of our life out here was terrifying because that’s a couple’s thing, and a serious risk, and a serious commitment. But kissing only lasts as long as you want it to, and I missed feeling you so much…” she brushed back Deirdre’s hair, massaging her scalp as she did. “I thought it would be good, if I stopped running away from wanting to touch you a little. We were good at that before we were good at being girlfriends, and maybe that could be something to get back that’s not so complicated. And we’d always moved with our impulses before anyway. But if it’s not good…” Back to the drawing board. “Right now, what I know is: I love you is okay, but it feels sticky when I say it sometimes; touching is okay, especially holding, but nothing past third base; involved plans for the future scare me; you can call me whatever you want, but I’m withholding terms of endearment until we’re more settled. I don’t want them to get ruined with my indecision. Other than that…” She shrugged haplessly. “Some stuff I have to be the one to fix.” Her hand moved down to cup Deirdre’s cheek and draw her head upward. “I am sorry I haven’t been able to talk. I just...it was what you said, being angry or heartbroken or scared or whatever else, and I just couldn’t, I was just that broken, nothing that did come out was right, and so I mostly didn’t. And I don’t know if I’m going to psych myself out tomorrow and feel less...me. But I can tell you I’ll try hard not to. Is this...helping? Is this making things worse…?”

“I know.” Deirdre smiled softly, “I didn’t think you meant to be cruel. And I meant it when I said I don’t mind the mess, I just want to know how I can help. Whatever that means for the moment.” She started writing the new rules on her arms as Morgan spoke, finding trouble writing with her off-hand but powering through anyway. “And the kissing...is that only for three minutes at a time?” She looked up. “And I never understood that baseball metaphor but so you’ll have to explain that later, in case I have it wrong. Our impulses are fine, but sometimes your impulses are panicking or hurting and we’re both trying to minimize that, right?” She scribbled some tentative words about that down. “And what about if I say ‘I love you’? Or if I want to say your eyes are like the frozen skin of a corpse? Would it be better for you if I just called you Morgan then, instead of ‘my love’?” She paused. “Do you still blame me? For all of it?” Deirdre looked down at the shaky list on her bandage. “Sad you is easier to talk to, she usually just wants to be held and she nods at least, when I ask her things. Angry you is harder because she doesn’t want to talk about the things we need to, she just wants to be angry. Panicked you is strange, because you’ve always let me hold you when you’re scared, but if what you’re scared of is me holding you...then there’s nothing I can do. Tired you is the one that wants to sleep, but can’t. Most of the time they mix together; you’re sad and angry, tired and scared, sad and angry and tired and scared. Your emotions are important to me, Morgan. And they’re not new to me, even if some displays of them are. But I’ve only known what to do to help because you’ve trusted me. And now that you don’t I…” Deirdre slumped, sighing. “If you could just tell me, even if it’s just to say you don’t feel like talking or that you do feel like talking...I can stop guessing about it. If that’s something you can try to do, I think it would be good.” She closed her marker and offered a small smile. “This is helping, thank you.”

Morgan tried her best to keep up with Deirdre’s questions. Kissing could be longer, but only if she asked for it first. Third base was another way of saying no sex or heavy under the clothes action, but everything else was fine. She wasn’t sure about the terms of endearment. She didn’t know why sometimes they were a comfort and sometimes they made her feel pressured. Same with I love you and the rest, but less so.

It was around this time that Morgan’s body started to curl in on itself. Her head slumped to bury itself in Deirdre’s hair and she held on a little tighter, for her own sake as well as her banshee’s now. “I don’t mean to make you guess…” she mumbled. “I’m guessing too.” At last Deirdre ran out of words for the time being and Morgan shuddered, relieved for just a breath of a moment. “I’m getting overwhelmed…” she said. “I don’t have answers for everything. But I trust you enough to kiss you. I trust you enough to let you hold me almost whenever you want. I—” She hesitated, shuddering. When she spoke  again, her voice was careful and quiet. “I’m trying not to blame you for everything. I know I didn’t always help. I needed you so badly, I was just in pieces and reacting and that didn’t help. And I know you didn’t mean to. But sometimes I walk into a room and it just hurts all over again. And sometimes I get scared, because if you didn’t understand what you were doing then and you couldn’t hear me, what if you don’t realize something’s happening and hurting me some other way and I lose you again. If it happens before I figure things out, maybe I’ll break again. And I don’t want to be the kind of person who ends up on the floor because you won’t look at me or talk to me. That’s why I need to do things differently this time…” Her voice warbled, growing sad. “If you need more answers, we can keep going, but I need a break first. Please… I just don’t know how to explain some things good or at all. Can we do something else for a few minutes? We don’t have to go back to kissing, we can just lay down if that’s better and then pick up the talk wherever you need us to. I know if it feels like too much for me it must be worse for you, but I need a break…”

Deirdre looked at her arm list, the lines shaky but the words clear to her. In her head, finally, she’d been able to create a picture of what Morgan needed. And now that she had it, she could help. Which was all she wanted, really. “No, no,” she smiled and wrapped her arms around Morgan, tight and steady. “This is perfect, thank you. I don’t need to ask you anything else.” All she’d needed was a modicum of guidance from a version of Morgan that wouldn’t shut her out, and then say it was her fault. ‘I don’t know’ was a perfectly acceptable answer but it wasn’t a helpful one, and not all their whims could be obeyed. And not all their instincts would be good. And the thread that the two operated on, once the same, was not one they could walk again. She understood that Morgan was saying they needed better, stronger threads; not a tightrope that led to each other. But it was because of this new shift that she needed to know, and if Morgan wasn’t walking it, then Deirdre couldn’t either. But she’d figure out what was to be done with herself on her own. “No, it’s okay. Thank you, Morgan. Really. I know these were hard questions, but I needed to know, and you answered them for me, and thank you.” She put her marker down and grabbed Morgan’s phone, showing her the timer. “Do you want me to kiss you now? I could do that thing you were saying, with your ears? Or, uh, yeah, we could just lay here.” She glanced over at the timer with a fond smile, as though staring at an old enemy whom the tides of time had softened her feelings for. In reality, three minutes was less terrible when she understood everything else. It would still end, and it would still ring, and she’d still keep count in her head and loathe the rigidity of time...but it wasn’t so bad. Not anymore. She turned back to Morgan, smiling just a little bit wider. “Thank you again,” she whispered, “it means a lot. Thank you.”

Slowly, Morgan unclenched her body and unfurled her legs to stretch over the cushions. She lifted her head, eyes still shut, tried to take a long, satisfied breath. She could feel something familiar and dangerous around the edges of her heart asking, Are you sure you’re not mad? I’m sorry this isn’t better, I’m sorry… Morgan winced, knowing better than to voice that. But it begged that much harder in her silence, and Morgan couldn’t shake the desire for being comforted. At last she lifted her gaze to Deirdre’s and felt whatever sad, hesitant question she’d been working on dissolve in her mind. Her face was so affectionate and warm, her smile glowing with the beginnings of confidence. It told her already, as if it knew she would ask, it’s okay. It’s okay.

Morgan smiled back, small and tentative. Her throat relaxed, and her words suddenly fell out with ease. “I just want to stay close right now, that’s the only part that’s really important to me. But if that’s still okay with you—” Then yeah, the last thing Morgan was going to turn down was the chance to be petted and soothed. “That would be really nice. But you never said what you wanted for yourself. I’m glad that you did something to take care of us. It was good and it does make sense, even if it was a little—” Morgan shuddered and wiped the corner of her eye, still tense from the experience. “But I want to give you something for you. After this, though. Or later. Just...sometime?”

Deirdre had never been great at thinking for herself, about herself, about the things she wanted. It was not selflessness that created her confusion, but a life that refused to value her desires. For years, as far as she was concerned, she didn’t have any, and she didn’t want any. And so, as Morgan mentioned it, she frowned and shifted. “I just want to take care of you; help you,” she said. Which was true, and she knew in some way she’d never be able to worry about herself if her mind was occupied with worrying about Morgan. But as she said it, she knew it wasn’t the right answer. “I—okay. We can do something for me, after. Sometime.” And as she thought about it, her ideas were either thinly veiled ways to make Morgan feel better or actions that were so inconsequential that it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t do them. She shifted again. “I just—“ She swallowed, abandoning the avenue of explaining her desires. She just wanted Morgan to be happy, and she saw nothing wrong with keeping that her singular desire. If she was disobeying her family, then she might as well put her whole heart into it. Unwavering devotion wasn’t new to her.

She lowered herself, pressing her lips to Morgan’s cheek, jaw, neck. Her mind enjoyed being occupied with the woman, and nothing else. There was nothing wrong. She didn’t need anything, and she certainly didn’t want anything. She wasn’t a person, she hadn’t been for a long time now, if ever. She worked her way back up to Morgan’s lips, mumbling there. “Thank you again,” she kissed once for each syllable. “I’m sorry to have asked it so roughly but thank you. You’re doing good; thank you.” And a dozen more for each of these. Her hand found familiarity tangling into and playing with the strands of Morgan’s hair. Her other moved to trace the bones of her features: cheek, jaw, neck. She was careful; above the clothes, chaste. She was dutiful, as asked by Morgan, as performed by all she knew of Morgan’s desires. What more was there to want? She wanted them good and okay again. She wanted what Morgan wanted. If a declaration of love was too much, she conceded: “thank you for worrying about me; I worry about you too.” Her affection was clear enough in the rest of her, all she didn’t say about loving her, wanting her, that it was all okay and that she would stay, was said in touches, breaths and kisses. She could do this, it’d be okay. And she didn’t want anything else. No, not at all.

Morgan’s icy fear melted under Deirdre’s assurances. Gradually, she flowed with her touches, pressing in, sighing, whispering the odd plaintive tease for more (I’m doing good? I am?), and ghosting her lips and hands over where she ached to touch back when she got her turn. The three minutes ended, silent this time, and Morgan thought the sting of pulling slowly back was sweet. Longing was hope in something like this, wasn’t it? Her watery eyes were softer than they had been a long time when she smiled at Deirdre. She reached out for her face, fingertips stopping just a breath away. “Thank you for helping me,” she said. “And for...assuring me, following all my strange impulses, choosing to come back home to me, trying to love me.” She was already leaning in, remembering how she’d decided that they should hold each other for free. It was as much a part of spending time together as looking into each other’s eyes. “I’m good to give to you back, if that’s something you want too,” she said. “And you could show me how you want to be touched, if you feel strange saying.” She offered her hands. “But only if...I mean, I want to be as good to you as I can be. We can just watch something, and I’ll fix dinner in a couple hours and we’ll stay here until you fall asleep, if that’s better. That’s okay. I just...I can give you my love like before right now. I can. But I’ll do whatever you want.”

Deirdre met Morgan’s fingers with her own, leading them the rest of the way, letting them greet her face. “Loving you is a choice I make glady, and not one at all--all of it, in the same breath. It’s a matter of fact.” The fondness had gone to her head, and in the moment, she’d forgotten why the Deirdre of days past refrained from such explicit words of love. “You don’t have to do that…” Her voice was warm. Tender. A no, let’s focus on you instead. Morgan had been denied her love for longer than Deirdre ever wanted, and she was keen to fill the space. “And how can I ask you to kiss me, hold me, touch me, when your heart has ached?” When three minutes was all Morgan could handle at a time and their affection had to be played like a game. How could she, when it was clear enough to her that someone else needed it more? She pressed her palm over the organ in Morgan’s chest that no longer thumped its fast, steady rhythm. “I can’t ask, Morgan. Your love is precious to me, and you needn’t strain yourself for it. Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you’d like to give, I will have gladly. But you’ve been through so much, and so much still yet lingers in you; the power it takes to remember how you once were, what you once had and could do when so much uncertainty plagues you, is too great for me to ask you for.” She thumped the old beat of Morgan’s heart against her chest. “You’re good to me just doing what you do. You don’t need to kiss me to make anything fair, you don’t need to love me like you did before when you find yourself with the energy to. I am not a plant you forgot to water. I am a woman who loves you, and I’ll be fine just like this.” She smiled, drawing her hand back. “Which is to say, I understand you’re hurting, Morgan. Your heart deserves rest. Love me as you want to, not as I ask--and if you can’t, if you find there’s no love you can give, don’t worry about me. It’s okay, Morgan. Right now, you can be selfish. All of it’s okay.”  

It took Morgan a moment to understand what Deirdre was saying. Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself, trying not to wilt too much. The more Deirdre went on, the more it became clear that her no that wasn’t a big ‘you’re taking too long and now I don’t trust you, so there’ kind of no, but something more complicated that maybe even buried a conditional yes. “But I want you to ask. I mean, not if it hurts, and obviously I’m...it must be kind of shitty, not knowing which me you’re gonna get, but the answer right now is going to be yes.” But that wasn’t everything. “It’s not like you’re a strain, I mean sometimes the stuff I carry makes other things feel hard, but--” That wasn’t the heart of it either. Morgan went quiet and leaned closer against Deirdre, chest to chest, searching for the simplest way down through her hurt. “I wanted to love you back so badly, before you disappeared,” she whispered. “For you to let me. For you to...want me. I think I went crazy trying to find the right, magic thing that would make you see me right or decide I was good enough or...I don’t know what anymore, it was stupid, but I would’ve given anything to be able to give to you and have it mean something. I know you were just hiding your injuries now, but...” She swallowed thickly and gave a resolute smile, trying to remind herself even as she coughed up more gooey, awful hurt, that she would not lose her shit and take things to heart if Deirdre decided keeping things one-sided was better. “It’s different if there’s something in you that doesn’t feel right with me touching you while I’m like this, if it hurts or it’s confusing or something else. But I don’t want you to be afraid or guilty if you want me. Because I do too. I’ve missed...I’d just really like to, and to know it’s good.” She met her gaze slowly. “Can wanting to make you feel good for a little while be selfish too?”

Vaguely, Deirdre knew she had a way of speaking that was coated in too much metaphor and thick with confusing language. It was like a fae to never say anything plainly, she was told. But Morgan had always been so good at translating her mind that there was a manner of freedom she found in speaking simply as she wanted to. She didn’t need to decode her mind, a task she often struggled with anyway. “Is it not like how I think it is?” She blinked, “to me it’s...like this: you’ve cut your hand. What kind of a person would I be if I asked you to pick something up for me? Shouldn’t you rest your hand?” Deirdre sagged as Morgan went on. No, it wasn’t like resting her hand at all. “I did love you back…” She mumbled quietly. “I was trying to let you, I just didn’t want you to worry. I did--do want you. It wasn’t ever not good.” She raised her arm, surveying her list. Being asked for what she wanted wasn’t something Morgan had told her before, and she hadn’t put it down. To say she wanted to touch Morgan was one thing, to say she wanted Morgan to touch her was another. The hand was cut, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t it rest instead? As much as Deirdre ached to give Morgan everything she asked for, this was one thing she could not do. Her desires weren’t so simple, they never found voice easily. “What am I supposed to feel, if not afraid or guilty?” She dropped her arm, and its rules that she thought were supposed to help her. “It’s not that I don’t feel right with you touching me, it’s that I don’t feel right asking for it. I don’t want to--I don’t want--I--” She paused. “I don’t want.” She shifted, frowning and deciding she might as well just say anything and move them past this. But as she opened her mouth, no desires could form on her tongue. She thought about the hand. What about the hand? Why wasn’t anyone thinking about the hand? “I do want you, and I do feel guilty, so I won’t ask. I can’t ask.” Deirdre shifted again, frown growing. “Why is it important that I ask?”

Morgan shrank inwards, her reminder playing in a loop. “You’d just never pushed me off you like that before, and you wouldn’t explain. I didn’t understand...” she whispered. But litigating the details of their mistakes wasn’t what she wanted to be doing. Morgan gathered herself and spoke more clearly. “For me it’s like I’m stuck. We were walking somewhere, holding each other like we always do, and then you fell and we both went down and let go or lost each other or something but now you’re ahead of me and I’ve got my feet stuck in a hole or tar or something and all of it hurts, staying in and sinking or trying to get out, all of it. But I want to get out. I need to. And I want you to help me get out of this stupid hole, if it won’t pull you back down with me.” She shrugged. “You could tell me instead, if thinking about it that way makes it easier.” She scoffed at herself, knowing the semantics were really not the point. “Maybe being so desperate to know anything you wanted over those weeks is part of it, but I...I really want to know when I touch you that it’s really for you, really what you want and not just another stupid wild guess or projection or a gross one-sided thing. And if we’re going to heal better, I think you really do have to come around to letting yourself want and expressing that, eventually. I’d kind of hoped this would be an easy one to start with, but we don’t have to do that tonight, okay?”

It was simple, very simple. All Deirdre had to do was say something she wanted for herself, something Morgan could give her. She opened her mouth. I want you to hold me. No, the holding was free. Her lips pulled back down into a frown before they parted again. I want you to play with my hair. No, how could she ask for something like that. It’d only be three minutes, and what if Morgan didn’t want to? What if it was too much work? Too much pressure? What if she grew too fond of the feeling of Morgan there and couldn’t bear the pain of losing her? Deirdre’s face twisted with pain. A kiss was too much to ask for, too serious. Anything else was too little, and would’ve been done anyway. And then there was the matter of the three minutes, the problems she’d had with it before arose again. This Morgan wanted her now, but what of the Morgan tomorrow? Would she resent the affection Deirdre asked for? Like the first kiss she’d wanted when coming home. Like the anger that seemed to follow the times she first asked Morgan to come to bed, before she learned to stop asking. “Couldn’t you just touch me and then I could tell you that it’s okay? Why do I have to--” She swallowed, shifted. If they were going to heal, as Morgan was saying it, then she needed to ask for things. But she didn’t want to ask for things. She didn’t want things. She didn’t want to ask. She just wanted Morgan to be okay. She opened her mouth. All she had to do was ask for something, and that didn’t seem so hard. She wanted a great many things: Morgan’s fingers intertwined with hers, absently against her skin in a way that was so soft--too soft--and just for her. Their legs tangled together where they couldn’t be told apart or undone. That easy way Morgan smiled, happy and ignorant to pain. The way Morgan looked at her, with love unspeakable, just for something she’d said or done and her own puzzling, trying to figure out what had done it this time, if it was anything at all. Where Morgan loved her just because. She wanted their lips, pressed together and pressed to skin anywhere they could, and just the places they knew the other liked. She wanted them, as they were; free and happy and timeless. But that wasn’t something she could ask for.

“I’m sorry,” Deirdre slumped, sinking to the couch and trying to curl herself between it and Morgan. Morgan had hoped, and Deirdre could not deliver. She could just say anything, she knew. Hold my hand. Squeeze my fingers. Poke my side. Just anything to make it feel like it was just for her, but none of it was honest. There was one thing she had grown comfortable with admitting she wanted, and from there all of her other desires had started to take shape. But she couldn’t have that thing anymore, and all she could do now was wait until Morgan’s foot wasn’t stuck anymore. “We can just lay here,” she said, wondering if that counted for asking for something. The defeat in her voice couldn’t have sold it as much of a desire, though. How could she want things when Morgan was hurting, and why was the concept so wrong? Morgan herself had said Deirdre was ahead of her, and the rich ought not to eat while the poor starve. Or so the metaphor went in her own head, but she couldn’t find the words to explain. “Or we can do something you want. But I can’t….I don’t want--” She closed her eyes, hissing at herself.  

Morgan sank down, hiding her face on Deirdre’s chest. She was struggling to keep her face even and confident. Deirdre would feel the tears building up at the corners of her eyes, but maybe if Morgan kept her voice even and she didn’t see, it wouldn’t make her feel worse. Don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally… She couldn’t help but feel as though her hand had been slapped away. Why was this hard and complicated? If they couldn’t feel better, they should at least get to have things be simple. Straightforward. Morgan sniffled as silently as she could and pressed timid hands around Deirdre, reminding herself that they held each other for free. (But what if Deirdre didn’t want it? What if it hurt? Would she be pushed off again, after all this?) Morgan waited until she was sure she could trust her voice and said, “I want to give to you without being in my head about it, wondering if I’m doing it wrong. I want it so badly. But not at the expense of your comfort. I don’t want you to hurt anymore, I don’t mean to. I want you to be okay. I want to make this better...” She just also wanted to feel like she was doing something good. She wanted to be loved and trusted enough to be allowed to love back sometimes and not have to makeguesses. But she could deal. Try differently. She could, at the very least, try to be fair to both of them. “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s okay. We can just lay here. Make things easy. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

A better woman could have done it. A better woman would have no trouble declaring her wants and needs, would be less wildly sensitive, always say the right things. Deirdre trembled, quietly, she begged herself not to have these thoughts; she was tired of them, and she wanted to be good. But if there was a better world, where her actions sat well and everything was okay, she hadn’t found it. And if there was hope, she’d forgotten the way. She wanted to be good now just as she had for months, when would she realize the problem was with her? Morgan’s turmoil was born out of the factors she couldn’t control, and beg herself as she did, the truth of it grew increasingly clear in her head. It was her own hand that she’d cut, and she picked things up so pathetically with it—but it didn’t heal, it hadn’t healed. If it did, it’d only bleed again. “I want to give to you without being in my head about it either,” she said. And her head was such a terrible place to be. “If I figure out how, I’ll let you know.” Focussing on loving Morgan and fixing them was as welcome a distraction to her searing self-hatred as anything else, but loving Morgan wasn’t something she did well, as it turned out. She couldn’t just say what she wanted, stupid and simple as it was. She couldn’t have risen out of her grief long enough to be good, she couldn’t pick her broken body up and run home. It all made perfect sense when it was her fault, but it didn’t offer any bit of the control she so desperately desired. She couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help anything—Morgan, Regan, Kaden. She was a terrible banshee and a worse person.

Deirdre shut her eyes tight, tears still escaped under her lashes, rolling down her face. The last voice that begged to be rid of these thoughts cracked and yielded. She thought she could lay still and quiet and make things easy. She thought she could do at least that much. But to lay, as Morgan said it was okay, she would’ve thought there was just one thing she could do right: nothing at all.

[impala-dreamer]

The Woman In Red- Chapter Six: Midnight in the Garden

SPN FanFic

~Sam remembers the day he met Y/N~

Sam x Reader, John

2,062 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Dom!Sam, sub!reader. D/s display of power, fingering, feels.

A/N: I can't believe this is back! Who knew? lol. This will stand for my "fingering" square for @spnkinkbingo 2019. Hope you enjoy!

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Sam had been just shy of his eighteenth birthday when he first met Y/N. He'd been a quiet, awkward stringbean of a teenager back then, lacking in confidence and social skills, his nose usually stuck in a book.

John wasn't around much anymore, if at all, but he always remembered Sam's birthday. Especially a big one like eighteen. So, maybe he had the exact date wrong, but he was close.

"You're gonna love this, Sammy," John beamed, marching Sam up to the house with the bright red door. "Don't say I never did anything nice for ya."

"Sam."

John's neck nearly snapped as he whipped around to eye his son. "What?"

Hazel eyes stared back defiantly. "It's Sam."

John grit his teeth and held his tongue as he knocked on the door. "You know, I'm trying to do something nice here, you can-"

A beautiful woman with red lips and matching nails opened the door, smiling up at the familiar face of Sam's father. “John, so nice to see you.” Her voice was like a song, and Sam would never forget the moment her pretty eyes flickered over his face. "And you've brought a friend…"

They talked all evening. Y/N fed both father and son, plied John with enough red wine to keep him docile, and stole Sam away to sit with her in the garden.

The sky was dark but the patio was lit with fairy lights and glowing orbs that sat on stakes amongst the flowers. Vines and lush greenery created a secret hideaway in the backyard, one where you could be safe from prying eyes from neighboring houses.

Y/N led young Sam by the hand to a wrought iron bench in the back, its curling edges and lacy design echoing the flora. They sat under the moon, holding hands and breathing in the sweet jasmine that bloomed around them.

Sam had so many questions but nerves and respect kept them bottled inside. Y/N obviously knew John, and judging by their familiarity, knew him in the biblical sense, and John had never said it outright, but Sam knew he was giving him Lucy as a birthday gift. Was she a prostitute? A very open-minded girlfriend? Had John saved her life once and Y/N felt like she owed him something? Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Y/N smiled kindly at him and snuggled close, her shoulder pressing into his, fingers wound tightly in his.

“Listen, Sam,” she said gently, “I know John brought you here for… well…”

Sam blushed painfully and looked away.

“No, no,” Y/N soothed, grabbing his chin to turn his eyes back. “It’s OK. We don’t have to do anything tonight or ever.” Sam calmed at that and smiled nervously. “I just want you to know that, if you ever need me, I will be here.”

Sam started to speak but nothing came out. It didn’t make any sense for this beautiful woman to open her home to him, to John, to anyone. What was the deal?

“If you ever need a safe place to crash,” she went on, “My door is open to you. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on or a warm body to occupy your mind, I will be here for you. All I ask is that you don’t discuss what we do or who I am with anyone else.” She paused to smile, searching his eyes for acceptance. “And I will do the same for you. No one will ever find out that you visit me. That will be our little secret.”

A flood of peace washed over him in that moment; something warm and beautiful that he would never be able to describe. It flowed like the moonlight down over him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and Sam’s insides bubbled with happiness.

He leaned forward and kissed her.

She smiled and kissed him back.

The night blooms seemed to swell around them, pulsing like the fairy lights as they sat alone in the cool night.

Y/N stepped onto the patio bricks, her bare feet tingling at the coolness of the slate.

The sun had long ago set and the jasmine was blooming, filling the breeze with the intoxicating perfume.

Sam waited for her on the bench, long legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped behind his head, relaxing in the garden.

“Haven’t been back here in forever,” he said with a soft laugh as Y/N approached.

“You’ve been busy,” she answered, offering him a tumbler of whiskey.

Sam sat up and reached for the glass, their fingers brushing as he took it. “I missed you,” he said sadly, stress from the last hunt creeping into his words.

Y/N smiled and sat down beside him, her white skirt billowing like a cloud around her bare thighs. “I missed you too, Sam. I always miss you.” She lay a small hand on his knee and Sam covered it with his own, wrapping his long fingers around hers.

He sighed and took a long drink, ignoring the burn as the whiskey stung his throat.

“You wanna talk about it?” Y/N asked, resting her chin on his flannel clad shoulder.

Sam shook his head and lifted her hand to his lips. “No. I just want to be here with you.”

"Anything you wish, Sam."

Her voice was gentle, the tone true, and Sam turned to look at her, tossing his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. He tipped her chin upwards with one finger and gazed deeply into her eyes.

"You're absolutely serious, aren't you, Lucy?"

Her brows creased as if the question confused her. "Yes, Sir. Anything you wish."

“Anything?” he teased, still holding her head in place.

She smiled coyly and spoke slowly, exaggerating the letters with a swipe of tongue against her teeth. “Anything.”

Sam hummed and clenched his jaw as thoughts filled his mind. “Stand up,” he commanded, all emotion gone from his voice, replaced by the harsh tone that made Y/N’s body quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

She stood up immediately, taking her place in front of him, her back straight, feet planted, head bowed, hands behind her back. The hem of her dress swayed in the wind, but Y/N moved not an inch.

Sam bit back his smile. His eyes left her curves for a moment and scanned the night sky. A few of the neighbors still had their lights on, a blue flash of television rays here and there, but mostly it was calm and silent.

“Take off that dress,” Sam ordered, knowing she was naked beneath it like a good girl.

Y/N carefully lifted the bottom of her dress and pulled it up and off, dropping the flowing fabric at her feet and standing still in the cool midnight air. The garden walls were high, but anyone in a nearby house on a top floor could see her, moonlight making her nakedness glow in the dark.

“Play with your tits.”

She pulled in a quick breath as she cupped her breasts, kneading them gently as Sam watched on.

“How does it feel to be exposed like this? Out in the open, touching yourself for me?”

Y/N swallowed hard and pinched her nipples, sending shots of arousal through her body. “Feels so good, Sir. I want to be a good girl for you.”

Sam sat forward, elbows digging into his knees. “Oh, but you are, Lucy. Such a good girl for me, always.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She dared a smile but kept her head bowed.

Sam licked his lips and let his eyes drift downwards. “How’s that pussy?”

“Throbbing,” she answered mekely.

“Good.”

He kept her there for a long while, watching as her body began to shake slightly, her hips start to roll a bit, her fingers work a little harder. When Y/N bit her lip and whimpered, Sam put an end to her torment.

“Come here,” he said firmly, patting his lap as he sat back.

Y/N rushed forward and straddled him, her ass high on his knees as he bounced her into place.

“Now, let’s see how nice and wet you are.” A hint of a grin passed his lips as Sam’s fingers caressed hers. Y/N gasped as his middle finger pushed between her folds, sliding slowly back and forth over her slit. “Very wet,” he reported happily. “Very good.”

“Gotta stay w-wet and ready for you, Sir.” Y/N’s voice was failing as Sam rubbed her pussy, teasing her with infuriatingly slow and featherlike touches.

Sam smiled and pushed his finger deep inside. “That’s right.” He watched as Y/N’s head fell back against her shoulders, eyes rolling as he pushed into her. “My perfect girl, always so ready for me. Even out here in the open where anyone could see.”  

Before she could reply, Sam slipped another finger inside and her entire body tensed up beautifully. There was a specific joy Sam took in watching her squirm, knowing the little jerks of her lips or shuddering breaths were because of his hands. He loved the way her eyes went dark and misty, her nipples hard and dusky, cunt pulsing, all because of his control over her. It was delicious and intoxicating, better than any drug or drink or love spell. All he needed was Lucy.

He pumped his hand a little faster and added a third finger, squeezing himself inside her tight canal.

“Do you remember the first night we sat back here?” he asked, musing over their first meeting. “It was so warm, so perfect. You were perfect.” Sam sat forward and sucked her left nipple into his mouth, making her moan loudly.

“Fuck, Sam…”

He bit down on her flesh as he pulled back, leaving her wet and tingling. “Always so perfect,” he went on, fucking her with his hand, carefully watching her face twist with pleasure. “That was the best kiss of my life, babydoll; you and me, here in the flowers, under the moonlight… I’ll never forget that.”

Y/N was out of breath, rolling her hips against his hand, desperate and whimpering. “Was...perfect,” she managed, biting her lip to hold in a scream as Sam tapped her clit with his thumb.

“It was. Just like tonight.” He rubbed her fast, still thrusting with his fingers, her slick heat dripping down to coat his hand and wrist.

The moon beamed down upon her, highlighting his wet kiss on her breast, the sheen on her lips. She pouted pathetically and grabbed his wrist, begging silently to be released.

“What do you need, babydoll?” he asked, knowing full well what she desired.

Her voice cracked as she struggled to answer. “Need...need to cum, please. I wanna cum for you so bad, Sam.”

He pushed forward and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, moving upwards as she lengthened her throat for him, tipping her head to the side. He nibbled on her pulse and sucked hard at the soft patch behind her ear, all the while rubbing and thrusting her sloppy cunt. When he reached her ear, Sam gave the dangling lobe a kitten lick and whispered, “Cum for me, Lucy.”

She shuddered on his hand, thighs shaking, hands grabbing, holding onto anything she could reach. Sam kissed her cheek and across, finally pulling her attention to his tongue as it slid between her lips. She shivered as the orgasm quelled and kissed him back, her hands rising to tug through his long hair.

“God, Sam,” she laughed, cunt still clenching his fingers. “You make me feel so good.”

He smiled and pecked her lips before pulling his hand away. “I’m glad.”

Hands clasped behind his head, Y/N smiled down at him, licking at his lips every now and then as she marveled at the moonlight dancing in his eyes. They were dark, almost fully brown in the light, picking up a hint of green from the ivy in a few spots.

“I’m very glad John dragged you here that night, Sam,” she whispered, knowing how invoking his father’s name usually made him surly.

Sam sighed and kissed her cheek before pulling her to lay against his chest. “Me too, Lucy,” he agreed. “One of the best things he ever did.”

2019 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @arses21434 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @because-imma-lady-assface @burningcoffeetimetravel @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis @cosmicfire72 @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansenwackles @deansgirl215 @deanmonandnegansbitch​   @dolphincliffs @dubuforeveralone @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @eternal-elir @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @gayspacenerd @hella-aj-the-trickers-son @herbologystudent252 @hobby27 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus​ @katymacsupernatural @lastactiontricia @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mysticmaxie @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @peridot-rose @pisces-cutie @risingphoenix761 @roonyxx @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @shadowkat-83 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnficgirl @supernaturaldean67 @supernatural-took-me-over @thehardcoveraddict @tmiships4life @wegoddessofhell @winchesterprincessbride

TWIR Tags: @bluebirds-in-june @mereka18 @holyfuckloueh @winged-angel-bird @atrunk-full-of-ideas @hunterscabin @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @spnwoman 

[razorblade180]

Black Queen

[schnee manor]

Oscar:*on the couch watching tv*

Whitley:*playing chess* I can’t believe I’m losing to you.

Ruby:Wow, wasn’t expecting a challenge? That’s a little harsh.

Whitley:You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just been awhile since I had a challenge. Several years I think.

Ruby:Weiss and Winter give you a hard time?

Whitley:Never actually played with Winter. As for Weiss, we were about even back then. She wasn’t too hard to beat though; that honor belongs to-

Yang comes barreling through the front door with Weiss on her shoulder. Blake is right behind her with Ren and Nora surrounding Jaune. Flashing lights can be seen as the door closes.

Weiss:Let me at em!!! If the paparazzi want a scoop so bad then I’ll give them one!!!!

Yang:As much as I would to see you beat up reporters, I know you’d yell at us for not stopping you afterwards.

Blake:In my opinion it would’ve been worth it.

Nora:I would’ve helped!!!

Jaune and Ren:That doesn’t make it better....

Ruby:I’m guessing the triple date was a fiasco?

Jaune:It was fine all the way until we went to grab food. Honestly we would’ve gone undetected but....

Ren:It’s like every piece of media has a radar on Weiss.

Whitley:I could’ve told you that. You think with all this snow our family would be hard to see but it’s the exact opposite.

Blake:He’s right; I’m surprised no one even cared about seeing me walk around casually. The people were too busy looking at Weiss to even bad mouth me.

Nora:I guess that’s the power of a Schnee for ya.

Weiss:I’m not even the heiress anymore! I thought the harassment would die down a bit.

Yang:Aren’t you still like an idol or something?

Whitley:Don’t forget a Beacon survivor; people eat that stuff up around here.

Jaune:We’re all survivors.

Whitley:But are you rich and caused an incident at a fundraiser?

Jaune:Fair point....

Ruby:Checkmate Whitley!

Whitley:Damnit, well played Ruby. *resetting the board*

Weiss:*slumped over* All I want is to be able to walk around freely and spend time outside. Jaune and I haven’t had one peaceful date.

Jaune:I don’t mind it. I knew what I was getting into.

Weiss:But I mind. It’s not fair to you. *pouting*

Whitley:If you don’t want to draw attention to yourself then you already have an answer.

He holds up the black queen chess piece for everyone to acknowledge. They all seem confused except for Weiss. Her face runs cold with horror as she knows exactly what that piece represents.

Weiss:How could you even suggest such an idea?

Whitley:I didn’t say it was perfect, but it’ll work like it did back then. It’s been forever since I’ve seen b-

Whitley:Bleiss Schnee can remain a fading memory for the rest of time!!!!

Everyone:.......

Nora:Uhhhh Bleiss Schnee? Who’s that.

Winter:*rushing in* Who dares speaks the demons name!? Was it you Whitley!?

Whitley:Guilty as charged. Weiss wants to go around town in disguise so I reminded her of her old friend.

Winter:I swear to god if we go down that road again I’m not dealing with the fallout this time.

Klein*from the other room* Neither am I!!!!

Ruby:Can someone explain to the rest of us what exactly we’re talking about?

Winter:When Weiss first became heiress and her singing career took off she got really fed up with the lack of privacy. So she created an alter ego that wears black.

Blake:So you named it Bleiss? Are you serious right now?

Weiss:*red* I was a child! Excuse me for not being more creative.

Whitley:Bleiss has her own birth certificate, bank account, and even a social security number. She was designed to basically be her own person. The media doesn’t pay attention to her a single bit because she has formally been shunned from the entire family and cut off from it completely. Nobody is interested in a useless Schnee.

Weiss:Ain’t that the truth; I pulled no punches in making sure she’s completely invisible as far as the media is concerned.

Yang:That’s great! Why don’t we break this bad girl out!

Weiss:*whispers*Nooooooooo it’s a bad idea...

Jaune:A bad idea? What makes it so bad.

Weiss:The “B” in Bleiss stands for black but honestly it should stand for....

Winter:Bitch, because that’s what she is. A complete bitch that’s out of control.

Nora:I need details right now.

Whitley:Her dressing up was fine at first until the freedom of being a regular kid truly sunk in. Being a nobody means nobody cares how you act. That simple fact plunged Weiss into dark temptations.

Winter:She became a wild child that refused to take off the outfit. Acting any crude way she wanted to that we literally had to get a doctor to make sure we didn’t unleash some multiple personality disorder. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Sooner or later things became sort of stale for her and being broke wasn’t fun. Next thing you know Weiss was her old self and we got rid of her clothes.

Ren:Sounds drastic.

Nora:Sounds awesome! I want to meet her!

Weiss:Have you not been paying attention!? She’s a wild child that doesn’t care about anything but herself. Honestly I can’t remember everything I did but what I do remember makes me grateful that I don’t remember everything. Besides I don’t have the clo-

Whitley:You’ll find all the clothes you own but in black inside the spare room closet. Including the contact lens and wig.

.......

Whitley and Weiss:Explain yourself right this instant.....

Whitley:What, she was fun. Chess against her was always exciting.

Ruby:Oh, she was your chess buddy? I guess a different personality would play the game in a whole new way. Like whenever Ozpin plays me instead of Oscar. Actually, could it be that-

Ozcar:Bleiss is not some secret other soul. Sometimes clothes just have a way of changing people. You should get a load of Dr.Oobleck in punk rock clothes like his younger years. It’s probably a similar situation.

Blake:Well if you have the clothes then make use of them. What are the odds you’ll act out again now that you’re older?

Weiss:I guarantee you that I will....

Whitley:Just put the wig on last and we’ll snatch it off when, and I do mean when you start to act up. Right Win-

The front door closes as Winter leaves in a hurry.

Whitley:......Well your friends have your back.

RBYJNOR:Yeah!!!

Whitley:But-

Jaune:Please Weiss?

Weiss:This is going to be crazy. I’m going to act insufferable.

Jaune:I’ll love you anyways.

Weiss:......Sigh, give me a moment.

*ten minutes later*

Weiss walks back into the living room stunning everyone. She’s wearing her volume 4 singing outfit. The dress is jet black with white speckles across it; almost looking like she’s wearing outer space around her. Sapphire earrings have been replaced with dazzling red rubies that match her contact lens. The most interesting change is myertenaster, it looks almost sold gold. All that’s the same is her hair; for now.

Yang:*whistles* this look sure feels more wild than your usual. Why that outfit?

Weiss:It’s hard to run in this so I’m confident you all can catch me if for some reason I try running off.

Blake:I might have a bias but you look good in black. I wasn’t expecting a gold version of your weapon.

Weiss:Like I said, I spared no expense fleshing this alter ego out; I even learned to do things right handed. A shame that I act like a hot mess like this. *shaking* Yet I’m oddly excited about this.

Nora:Come on, put the wig on already! I need to see this so called wild child.

Ren:I feel a rivalry brewing.

Weiss:Jaune I just need you to know that whatever I say-

Jaune:Relax, I won’t hold it against it you. *smiles*

Weiss:*puts on the wig*......

Everyone:.........

Yang:Well...feel anything?

Weiss:Actually....I don’t feel anything strange. Maybe I’m over it.

Ruby:You have white hair sticking out in the back. *fixing it* that should do- ow!

With no warning at all, her hands get smacked away like a fly.

Ruby:Hey, what’s the big idea?

“I don’t remember giving you giving me permission to touch me.”

Jaune:Weiss....? Are you- *suddenly catching her as she jumps into his arms*

Bleiss:You on the other hand, you can can touch me whenever you want. *caressing his chest*

Jaune:*blushing* What!?

Yang:Uhhh, Bleiss I presume?

Bleiss:*jumps to the ground with a smirk* Sup fuckers! Bleiss Schnee is here to shake things up.

Ozcar*getting Oobleck flashbacks*

Whitley:Hey Bleiss.

Bleiss:Sup twerp, you’ve grown like a weed. Still playing chess I see. Think you can finally beat me or am I gonna wipe the floor with you like last time?

Whitley:I’d like to see you try. I’m guessing you want to be the black pieces?

Bleiss:Hell yeah I do! *sits down*

Ren:You talk like you’ve been away a long time. I guess you treat the time spent between you and Weiss separate.

Bleiss:Duh, anything that prissy little snowflake does has nothing to do with me. *leans back stretches her legs out*

Ruby:*red* You’re wearing a dress! Close your legs.

Bleiss:Lighten up wall flower. It’s not like anybody here doesn’t know what panties look like. Except for virgin boy on the couch over there, but he’s mentally checked out at the moment.

Oscar:(She didn’t have to call me out like that.)

Ozcar:(Your time will come one day. Don’t let it get to you.)

Ruby:Whitley you’re okay with this!?

Whitley:*staring at the board* she does what she wants. I’m not looking so I’m fine.

Bleiss:He’d have to be pretty sick to want to. The only skirt he’d love to look under is yours.

Whitley:*blushing* Please stop.....

Bleiss:Awww look at that face. I wonder how many times that teenage brain of yours has been swarming with dirty thoughts of precious little girlfriend. I can’t believe you haven’t gotten his rocks off yet Ruby; scared it’s gonna hurt?

Ruby:*crimson* Out of line!

Yang:Definitely not talking to Weiss right now. She would never be bold enough to tell Ruby to have sex in front of me. Bold move...*glares*

Bleiss:Please, the only thing intimidating about you is boobs, and even that becomes underwhelming when people notice your scrawny ass.

Yang:SCRAWNY!?

Blake:*snickering*

Yang:Blake!?

Blake:I’m sorry but that was a little funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone call you out like that.

Nora:It is a little scrawny now that she mentions it.

Yang:Stop looking!

Jaune:*staring at Bleiss*.......

Bleiss:Hmm? Something got your attention? Not that I can blame you but I do remember me saying you can touch me whenever you want. I don’t mind if we have an audience. Let them learn a thing or to from us. *winking*

Everyone:*turning red*

Jaune:That is uhh....that’s fine.

Bleiss:Aw baby don’t be like that. I’ll do things to you that Weiss wishes she had the guts to do. All you have to do is ask nicely and I’ll get on me knees right now. Hell, you can just stand there and I’ll happily be the one to whip out your c-

Whitley:Checkmate! *quickly snatches her wig* that’s enough of that.

The room gets completely silent for a moment and just waits to see what happens next. Right before anyone can speak, the silence is interrupted by a girlish shriek from their familiar friend as she closes her legs. Her face burning with embarrassment. Without hesitation she stands up and scampers off to her room.

Jaune:That sure was an experience.

Nora:Sounds like she was about to give you a few experiences. Imagine if she was on the triple date with us. That could get wild.

Ren:That’s putting it lightly. I doubt the media would ignore extreme public displays of affection.

Blake:It’s called Voyeur and we’d definitely would’ve attracted at least one cameraman.

Yang:Maybe we should keep Bleiss under wraps unless something absolutely nuts calls for it. I’m already exhausted and it’s been five minutes.

Everyone:Agreed....

Weiss:*coming back out in regular clothes* How about we keep her locked up forever instead!?

Whitley:Aww, but I like playing chess against her. What about you Jaune; do you never want to see her again.

Weiss:*looking at him*......

Jaune:I mean...I don’t have to see her again. That being said, she seems interesting.....

Weiss:Jaune!!!

Jaune:It’ll be completely your choice though! My opinion has a bias. *blushing*

Weiss:I’ll....I’ll still keep it in mind. *blushing* just for you.

Whitley:*snickering* Predictable response. Guess that means I should set up the board again. Oh how I do love the black pieces.... *picks up the black queen and white knight*

[softforcal]

Are there any headcannon's for shy Hufflepuff Luke x Slytherin reader. Cause we both know I love that concept.

-first i love you

-second, here we goooooo

-so you’re this bad ass Slytherin who’s always hanging out with Slytherin!Cal and Slytherin!Michael

-for fun imma say you play Quidditch because yes please

-so, Luke has seen you all around school and he’s had a crush on you since like first year but never told anybody

-because he doesn’t see himself having a chance with you

-plus, you’re always around Hood and Clifford

-yes, you arent technically dating Hood or Clifford but Luke wouldn’t be surprised if maybe you were secretly dating Hood or Clifford

-Hufflepuff!Ashton noticing Luke noticing you one day at breakfast

-Like, Luke’s eyes keep shifting over Ash’s shoulder and finally Ash just turns around and sees you laughing with your friends

-he turns back to Luke and is like “Y/N’s cute.”

-Luke gets all stammery and blushy and Ashton knows he’s hit a bullseye

-Ashton actually knows you through Quidditch, like usually Slytherin’s dont talk to Hufflepuffs much but you and Ashton have always had hella respect for each other and after matches when you shake hands for good game, you actually mean it

-”you know, i could talk to her about you sometime.” Ashton suggest

-Luke flips his shit at the mention of that because no fucking way

-but of course, later on that day, Ash sits next to you in a mutual class you have and of course you’re kinda like, “what’s up?” because he’s in Michael’s seat and if he stays there too long, your colourful haired friend is for sure going to prank him or something

-”so you’re not dating Hood or Clifford are you?” “abrupt question, but no, why?” “just wondering. I have a friend that thinks you’re cute so if you’re looking for something with a good guy, i could help you out.”

-he leaves before you can ask who he’s talking about

-but for dinner you go sit with Ashton and Luke nearly has a heart attack when you take the seat across from him

-we’re talking sweaty palms, fidgety hands and a knee thats bobbing like there’s no tomorrow

-”okay, so lets say i am looking for a nice guy to date, what makes you think this guy you know is my type?”

-yeah, Luke is freaking out

-but suave Ashton is just like, “something tells me you would be interested. but i need to make sure you’re good enough for him first.” “sounds like a challenge Irwin, what do you have in mind?” “well, i figure we should hang out for the week and at the end of it, if i think you wouldn’t be an asshole to him, i’ll set you two up.”

-you roll your eyes but agree

-you and Ash arent best buds but you trust him

-as soon as you’re gone Luke freaks out at Ashton

-”you’ll thank me in a week mate.”

-the next day, you come sit next to Ashton again. Michael comes over and sits next to Luke who is still freaking out and Cal trudges along then sits next to you, refusing to really look or talk to Ashton

-you begin to talk to Luke and he manages to actually speak to you without his tongue getting tied in knots

-you all leave to go to classes

-during the day Luke freaks out again when you sit next to him in a class

-he’s always known you were in that class with him but you’ve never sat next to him

-poor Luke having heart attacks left right and centre over this shit

-”so this whole thing is real right? i mean, Ashton isnt just going to let the week go by and then say he’s the great guy he wants to set me up with right?” “no, it’s not Ashton.” “okay cool, i would not be able to stand it if it was.”

-Luke has always been kinda scared of you

-you generally look like a typical Slytherin

-you stick to your house

-you have a resting bitch face

-and you seem to excel at everything you set your mind to

-you walk around school with Cal and Michael and people move out of your way

-and yet here you are, siting next to him, a Hufflepuff

-and people are noticing

-you’re actually being so nice to him?

-Luke is even more into you and its freaking him out

-you have a Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. you, Cal and Ashton are all playing so Luke of course goes to watch

-Michael sits down next to him

-Luke tries not to keep his eyes on you the whole time but its really hard

-”so i know you’re the guy Ashton wants to set Y/N up with.” Michael states mid game

-Luke gets flustered

-”don’t worry Puff boy, i’ve been friends with Y/N a long time. yeah, im a Slytherin but that doesn’t make me an asshole. Y/N means a lot to me and i think you’d be good for her.”

-Luke being so shook by Michael’s acceptance

-”But Cal? he’s not going to like it.” Michael laughs, “i’ll talk to him for you.”

-”does Y/N, does she know?” Luke asks.

-”no but she’s thought you’re cute since year two so you’re good.”

-Luke can’t help but smile at that. you’ve found him cute for years?! what?!

-”so are you cheering for Slytherin or Hufflepuff?” Michael asks, changing the subject

-then Michael pulls out a Slytherin scarf and is just like “It’s Y/N’s, i usually wear it because we’re buds but i’m wearing Cal’s right now so maybe you want to wear her’s unless it will betray your house or something.”

-of course Luke wears it

-he forgets he’s wearing it (which Michael had planned all along) and ends up going down to the pitch after the game to congratulate Ashton and bumps into you

-”hey, is that my scarf?”

-”oh, um, Michael gave it to me, i’m so sorry-” he begins to stammer, taking it off

-”no, keep it for a bit, you look good in green.” you grin

-you turn to go and this little Hufflepuff is just freaking out but he’s like “Y/N, do you want to go out with me sometime?”

-he can see it all click in your eyes as you realize he’s the guy Ash is setting you up with.

-”i dont know Luke, are you sure Ashton has deemed me fit to date you?” you tease

-Luke stammers and you grin, grabbing his hand, “i’m joking Luke. Slytherins do that sometimes. i’d love to go on a date with you.”

-you leave before he can give you your scarf back and Michael is just like “you did it bud!”

-you meet Cal outside the change room and he’s just like “are you actually going on a date with that Hufflepuff?”

-”Luke’s nice.” you state.

-”as long as you’re not dating Irwin.” Calum shrugs

-Luke comes and meets you outside the Slytherin common room, he’s fidgeting with your green scarf and looks up with a grin when he realizes you’re standing there, “you look beautiful.” “Luke i wear this every day.” “i know.” “wow, i didn’t realize Hufflepuffs were sweet talkers.”

-he has to like plan a few things to say because otherwise he gets flustered

-the two of you walking through the school and people move out of your way, something Luke has never experienced

-and they’re all looking at him

-Hufflepuffs and Slytherins don’t date usually

-let alone you, the Slytherin Princess? nah, people always assumed you’d end up with Cal or Michael as a second choice, no one would ever have guessed you’d even entertain the idea of dating outside your house

-the two of you are walking down the Hogsmeade and your hands keep brushing until you just intertwine your fingers

-”you know, green looks good on you, but you’re even cuter when you’re red.” you tease about his blushing

-Luke stops walking and makes you face him “why are you such a Slytherin?” “why are you such a Hufflepuff?” “would a Hufflepuff do this?” he asks and grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours

-melting into the kiss

-he’s so soft, nothing like the Slytherin’s you’ve been with

-he pulls away and the entire power dynamic has changed

-now you’re blushing

-and he’s looking like the most certain and confident Hufflepuff you’ve ever seen

-”wow.”

-he laughs, “really?”

-and just like that he’s your Hufflepuff again

-your Hufflepuff

-you lace your fingers together and continue to the Three Broomsticks for your date

-he insists on buying you a drink and the two of you sit and just begin talking

-people come and go, some gawk at you and then all of the sudden one of the workers is like “we’re closing, you two have to leave.”

-you’re both shocked that you just spent like four hours talking?

-he grabs your hand and the two of you begin to walk back up to the school

-cute little dates continue and you find yourselves sitting next to each other in most classes

-holding his hand under the table where people can’t see

-stolen kisses in deserted corridors where you know his heart is just racing because he doesn’t want to get caught

-a lot of “calm down Hufflepuff, we’re good, don’t worry.”

-going to a date and he’s just like “it’s a scavenger hunt.” and you just roll your eyes at him “you’re such a Hufflepuff.” “well i’m not the one who’s going to be doing the finding.”

-its some elaborate hunt that includes Michael and Ashton and surprisingly even Cal rolls his eyes and gives you some cheesy hint that he couldn’t be bothered to remember so it’s written on his hand

-the hunt ends on the Quidditch pitch where he asked you out for the first time

-”do you maybe want to be my girlfriend? i mean, if you don’t its okay, you’re a Slytherin and i’m just-” cutting him off with a kiss and then pulling away with a smile, “you’re my Hufflepuff.”

-he just melts

-he’s never been so proud to be a Hufflepuff before

-he’s your Hufflepuff

-come on fam, melt with me just a little

-being able to walk down the hallways holding hands for everyone to see

-people are still shook that you and Luke are together

-but all it takes is a view of the way you smile and laugh with him and it makes sense

-yeah, you’re still hardcore and people can’t mess with you but with Luke you’re so soft and its the sweetest thing

-this boy is the epitome of soft and its so sweet

-like him getting you flowers or writing poems about you

-the Hufflepuffs all welcome you with open arms. some are a little scared of you at first because you’re the big bad Slytherin

-the Hufflepuffs also accept Calum and Michael more which is another shock to the school clique system

-you and Luke catch Calum flirting with an innocent little Hufflepuff and he gets kinda flustered, “don’t tell Irwin.”

-but of course by the next day Ashton is teasing Calum about it and he turns to Luke but Luke’s like “Y/N told him not me.” and Calum is like “seriously Y/N? your Hufflepuff has more loyalty to me than you do? pfff, what a great Slytherin you are.”

-Luke wearing your scarf at Quidditch matches and sitting with Michael who is actually such a hard core shipper of the two of you

-Michael and Ashton fighting over who got you and Luke together

-”i’m the one who made them talk more.” “yeah well i’m the one who gave him her scarf which led to him asking her out!”

-(tbh if you and Luke ever get married, part of you wants to suggest Luke chooses Cal as best man just to piss of Michael and Ashton because they fight about this way too much)

-one day Calum and Michael each sit on either side of Luke and they’re both just like “so if a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin have sex, which one of you makes concessions for what type of sex it is?” and Luke nearly dies

-”i mean, Slytherin’s can be into some pretty kinky shit.” Michael exchanges a grin with Cal before they both turn to Luke, “so are you a puff in the streets a snake in the sheets or is she a snake in the streets a puff in the sheets?”

-it honestly kind of depends on a lot of stuff. like, at first, the sex was always loving and passionate but as your relationship continued and Luke got more comfortable he was down to try new things

-plus, Hufflepuff Luke is a pleaser ya’ll know what i mean fam

-you usually got to see Luke in the Hufflepuff dorm because you know for sure that Cal and Michael are the type to lurk outside your door like creeps to see if they can hear something to use against you later

-they try to bribe Ashton to let them into the Hufflepuff dorm area for blackmail reasons but Ashton doesn’t budge on the subject, those Slytherins are not getting into the dorms

-but they get invited to Hufflepuff parties now, standing out like a sore thumb in the sea of yellow, so they usually try to sneak away and spy on you and Luke but Ashton, the ever faithful (practically) bouncer, makes sure you and Luke don’t get disturbed

-”come on Ashton, arent you even slightly curious about what they do when they sneak off?” “no i’m not. because Luke talks to me.” “LUKE TELLS YOU WHAT THE SEX IS LIKE?!”

-Cal and Michael trying to suck up to Luke so he’ll open up but he sees right through them

-”i don’t know why you two care so much.” you say one day, “and i don’t know why you don’t just ask me what its like.” “because you know how to lie, Luke doesn’t.”

-you and Luke stumbling into class just as it starts and Ashton just rolling his eyes, “stop corrupting Luke with your dirty Slytherin tendencies.” “who says he’s not the one corrupting me?”

-no one ever takes that idea seriously but Hufflepuff Luke for sure has a hidden side that wants to stay just a bit longer making out in broom closets

-”we’ll be late Luke.” “i don’t care.” “who are you and what did you do with my Hufflepuff?!”

-the softest cuddles

-lots of face grabbing

-long, warm hugs

-’I love you’ being said probably way too much but who cares?

-Michael and Calum care that’s who. “you two are disgusting.” “you’re just mad cuz you’re single.”

-any time Luke even talks back slightly to Calum or Michael, Michael will freak out “Y/N you’re corrupting the Hufflepuff!” “why does everyone assume i’m the one corrupting him?”

-this is cute fam

-some Slytherin’s coming up to you and just being like “you dating Luke pushed me to ask out a girl in Ravenclaw.”

-like… paving the way for Slytherin’s to be more okay with cross house dating?

-people still get shit if they want to date a Gryffindor

-but definitely proving that its okay for Slytherins to be lovey dovey and who better to do that with than Hufflepuffs who are all so cute?  

-i kinda love this concept wtf

-soft, Hufflepuff Luke is a mood

[chonisbestmistake]

(Requested. Enjoy)

Dating Veronica Lodge would be like...

Being with a confident and a powerful woman

Admiring her features

Telling her how beautiful she actually is

Being a tease cuz you like how flustered she gets every single time

Wearing her tops and stealing her shoes because you're obsessed with her style

Touching her body every chance you get

Suffering at Vixens practice because she looks so hot in that uniform

Dying from laughter while seeing her get jealous when you're talking to other girls

And when they're checking you out

Feeling Veronica's hand wrap around your waist protectivly

Wispering to her ear "i'm only yours, babe"

Hearing her "prove it then", seeing her smirk and lust in her eyes

Taking her in the bathroom stalls because you can't wait till the practice is over

Going to parties

Friendly teasing Archie cuz "i got the hottest girl in school and you got none"

Getting Veronica her fave candies every saturday

Buying flowers to each other

Being called daddy in the darkness of your bedroom

Going to a spa together

Cooking her breakfast in the mornings even if she has her own cook

Going to a concerts together

Holding hands in public just so that everyone knows she's yours AND to show affection to your beautiful baby

Kissing her cheeks and nose and neck everytime she's being sassy or when she's flirting with you

Softly brushing her hair when you're preparing for school

Doing your make ups for each other

Driving her to places

Surprising her with unexpected dates

Passionatly making out in school halls

Loving to give her a pleasure at nights

And watching her release while screaming your name

Fighting every bitch that brings up her dad

Or saying some innapropriate shit

Making great friends with Betty and Kevin

Defending Veronica from her parents and taking blame on yourself when she did something wrong

Standing up to Hiram whenever he tries to pressure your girlfriend

Making pretty stable relationship with Hermione

Breaking your wrist while giving Reggie a life lesson because " Dont you dare to say that about her again. Ever"

Getting Veronica kiss the pain away after seeing a doctor

Being a blushing mess when she compliments you

Working on a school projects together

Trying to stay focused but failing miserably

Getting distracted with how sexy she looks in just her shorts and a sports bra

Being a big spoon but a powerful bottom

Because you know how hot she is when she's taking control over you

And you're not really complaining

Being teased by Cheryl because of it

But always winning because you like to remind her how she's a bottom for Toni

Kissing your girlfriend and laughing your ass out when Veronica tells her “who’s faux kissing now?” and reminds Cheryl about her and Betty’s audition for the Vixens

Teasing Betty and trying to convince her that sex with a woman is better then anything

Buying your girl her coffee every morning

Getting daily kisses and sweet 'i love you's

Doing a lap dance for Veronica on her birthday after a party

Beating up Nick's ass after hearing what he had done with Cheryl and your girl

Supporting Veronica when she's performing on stage

Writing a song for her

Making her smile when she's sad

Taking care of Veronica when she's sick and cuddling on her bad

Falling asleep in each others arms every single night

Going to Paris together

Looking after her when she's drunk

Watching netflix and chilling

Arguing over some stupid things like "Why cant i beat his ass? He disrespected you, Veronica" and "You cant just go out there and fight with every dumb person who gets in your way"

Telling her "Yes, i can. And im going to now" but then staying with her cuz you cant say no to this puppy eyes

Spending a crazy night at a gay club with her and Kevin

Watching Veronica's attempt to figth anyone who breathes your way

Supporting each other on every step of the way

Being absolutely crazy in love with her

[originalnovelist]

Nobody Knows.

INVOLVED: Samuel Evans and Michelle Pitter. TIME FRAME: Flashback. LOCATION: Michelle’s Home; Los Angeles, California. NOTES: Samuel confides in Michelle like he always does.

Hearing a knock at the door Michelle walked over to it, fresh face, brushed teeth, robe on, hair tied ready to start her day. She was curious to know who could possibly be paying her a visit without a heads-up. She looked out the peephole squinting a bit before she opened the door fully and said “Samuel, what the hell you are doing here boy?”

Samuel waited for the woman to answer and it would be just his damn luck if she didn’t. But she seemed to always be there when he really needed her, she had to be here now, especially now. As she opened the door he sighed relieved because he had nowhere else to go after this. “We have got to talk man” he told her shaking his head. “It’s very important” he added.

Michelle looked at him “come in” she said without hesitation despite the way she initially greeted him “what’s going on?” she asked him looking him over, he was dressed well so he couldn’t be going through too much. “Here give me your backpack” she said as she took it from him moving to place it in a safe place for him while he was there. She joined him in the living room and said, “you hungry?” as she caressed his face. “You want some breakfast?”

Samuel rolled his backpack off letting Michelle have it, he sighed again as he moved to sit on her couch. She had changed some things up a bit since the last time he had been there, but that made perfectly good sense. The business woman had a modern flair about her and the only thing she loved more outside of her actual business was her home, and she always kept it spotless and neat something that he loved because he were the same way. “Sure; you’d cook for me?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, stop it” Michelle said nudging him “you know I got you” she winked as she moved to the kitchen. “Come in here, and we can talk” she called out.

Samuel moved into her kitchen, he sat on the bar stool and watched her from behind. “Carla fucked me over” Samuel said finally. “I made the huge mistake of sleeping with her a few months back, Mercedes was pregnant with Mackenna” he sighed. “She uh, she fucking ‘caused a scene…”

“Something that bitch always does” Michelle said, “carry on”.

“Yeah, she caused a scene and I only took Mercedes to the chick’s home to prevent these things from happening. I fucked myself over with that, I didn’t want Mercedes thinking we were doing anything more than co-parenting. I didn’t want to give her any doubts you know, but I wanted my baby, he needs to be around me more” Samuel told her leaning forward elbows pressed into the counter. “She told Mercedes we fucked, well she said it out loud and Mercedes overheard her. She was pissed of course….” he trailed off.

Michelle looked to Samuel having sat out all the things she needed within her cabinets and fridge. She shook her head at Samuel folding her arms over her chest “why in the hell would you do that to Mercedes of all people?” she asked him seriously. “You love her, why would you make that stupid mistake? And with Carla?” she asked him looking at him wildly. “Damn Sam” she said disappointed in the man. “You know Carla does this shit, you knew there was a possibility that she would go back and tell. She has always had this problem with trying to have the one up on bitches, that’s why the skank had it in for me” she told him. “Look, I told you long time ago. I don’t mind the other women, I don’t mind you dipping in and out, I never ever mind Mercedes, ever. But I said you are playing with fire because these women don’t respect the side chick code” she stressed. “You never go back to the woman he wants and fucks him over like that… these bitches messy as fuck. I have known you for years and the only bitch that knows about me is Carl because the bitch is nosey and messy” she told him. “As a matter of fact I know it’s been a while since you fucked her because it’s been a while since I seen you, you dropped me as soon as Mercedes showed and I was fine with that because I know she’s the only woman you love. You know you don’t love those bitches, hell you don’t love me” she said pointing to herself.

“Man, I don’t know why I did the shit. It was not to get back at her or anything. I mean we clashed a bit and I’d just do my own thing but I don’t really know why I went to Carla” Samuel said shaking his own head.

“You do know why, see you give that foreign bitch too much power over you” she told him. “It makes me sick” she said rolling her head and eyes. “Yes, you too were in a bad car accident. Hell, I was there I sent you and the bitch flowers and get well soon cards, okay. I remember” she told him. “You were reckless, y’all were fighting. Next thing you know your car looks like something straight out of a movie, I mean smashed to pieces” Michelle emphasized. “That bitch has been able to play you ever since. You think you owe her something because you made a mistake?” she asked. “Baby boy, you don’t owe Carla nothing, she’s perfectly fine and you are the sick one because of it, not her…”

“She could have died because of me, you don’t think you’d hold on to that. And I was sick, and I was down, and I was out, and she took care of me. She was there every second of every day Michelle I just can’t dismiss that, no matter who or what she did. I don’t like to keep her close, but hell she had to put me back together again and she did it with no complaints” Samuel told her.

“And in your same right you healed her… because you felt guilty. You gave her the home, the keys, the car, the lifestyle. You gave her everything. And she repaid you by burning the shit down?” she asked. “I would never have done you that way” Michelle argued. “She could not be that jealous, I am sorry. I have been fucked by you and was called Mercedes name in the process. And I can still look you in your face. Everyone knows where your heart lies. There is no way that spiteful bitch ever thought she’d win over Mercedes” she said. “That’s facts” she added.

“She’s what I know, we lived together for two going on three years. She filled voids. Mercedes was back and forth, and I grew attached to her. To it. Even when she cheated. Mercedes came back off tour, and she was cheating leading right up to the baby incident. I didn’t believe that bitch at first. Even if she were I knew it wasn’t mine, at first” Samuel said shifting in the seat. “I did not want that on Mercedes plate I’d admit. Plus she had been sleeping with other men, I just knew the bitch was on birth control, there’s no way she didn’t play me at all corners she knew what she were doing” he told her.

“You let her play you…” Michelle said.

“She was my girlfriend” Samuel countered.

“Who had plenty of other boyfriends” Michelle rebuttaled.

“And I had you” Samuel pointed out.

“Touché” Michelle said raising her hands in defense. “But I have always been around, I was the first person you met when you moved here” she told him shrugging. “And not once have I ever made life hard for you, is my point. I don’t want your house, your cars, Mercedes ring, none of it. I know you. I know who you are. I know what you want. And I know who the real love of your life is…” she told him.

“Carla fucked me over and so did Natasha, so I am left with nothing” Samuel said.

“Natasha is married Samuel, you need to figure out who’s child that really is” she said face written with disgust. “I can not believe you betrayed Mercedes like this, look, I know I can’t talk because there are plenty times I fucked you in the cross hairs, none as of late. Not in the last year or so. But either way. I don’t have a say, but I  have to say. One, if you got me pregnant honey that child won’t exist after that pregnancy test. Two, there is no way I was going to play on Mercedes phone or go over to her house about it. Three, I respect her way too much for that. I don’t know much about her, but in some way somehow, that girl manages to soften the strongest and toughest guy I have ever laid eyes on. I was there, during the tears and grief, and the hatred you possessed for her. Somehow, she still won in the end… I know everyone isn’t me but I damn sure don’t see the point of taunting Mercedes” Michelle shrugged again. “I just don’t have that type of energy honey, I am sorry. I sent a gender reveal gift, I sent a baby shower gift, I found the Barbie for Valentine’s day, and I found the car you gave her. That’s the only dipping and dabbing I’ve been doing” she told him matter-of-factly. “Your daughter is gorgeous, you guys make beautiful kids, I was ecstatic she accepted the proposal because you still haven’t gotten over that mess. I thought it was a step in the right direction, however I must have been wrong. Because you still haven’t gotten it yet. Pussy is not everything baby” she told him, “come on you are getting too old for this” she told him.

Samuel looked to Michelle and he sighed, no everyone was not like her. The girl did way more than a side chick should do however always managed to stay in the background of things. She sent more birthday cards to his family and friends for him then anyone else, along with Mercedes she managed to always keep his health on track, when he stayed to long she put his ass out, when he needed guidance she gave it, she was leveled headed. She was always there to catch him right before he fell, but most importantly she let him make his own decisions she never told him what to do, never gave her opinion until it truly mattered. He learned the hard way anyway, there wasn’t much more she could do. “CJ hooked me up with Natasha, I don’t know why I fuck with that dude man…” he said taking his hat off and running his hands through his hair.

“Neither do I. Someone who cheats on his baby’s mother himself, doesn’t seem like the proper influencer” she told him. “You always let him coax you into shit. You getting your dick suck or wet with another bitch to relieve stress or tension is not an excuse. Open your mouth and talk to people like you talk to me. Why must you run to weed and pussy?” she asked him. “You know what don’t answer that, I am going to tell you why. You do it because you aren’t shit just like your daddy ain’t shit” she said. Michelle turned to the stove and begin to cook him breakfast despite her annoyance with him. “Your daddy talk to your mother any kind of way, he cheats, he hits her, the anger that man has built up inside him for God knows why, has trickled right down to all of you. And it’s sad, because your mother doesn’t have to put up with that treatment but she does for whatever crazy ass reason” Michelle said. “You always use to tell me you don’t want to be like him… wake up Sam. You have him beat baby” she said looking back at him.

“Man get that shit out of here, right now” Samuel said. “I am nothing like my father don’t say  shit like that” he said pointing at her as his jaw clenched at the thought. He hates his father with every ounce of his being. He was a true dog, and Samuel had watched his madness and how it affected his mother for years. “I am nothing like him. I would never hit Mercedes, I would never do my children the way he did me. My fucking father hated us, okay, I don’t do that to my kids I love each and every one of them. Take that shit back!” he argued.

“You don’t hit her but you hit everybody else” Michelle said as she moved over to him. “You want to hit me right now, the only difference is, I don’t allow you to treat me the way you do those other bitches. You ain’t never touched me and you won’t” she sneered at him. “You love your kids I know that, but everything else in you is your father” she said poking him in his chest. “Look in the mirror Samuel…” she sighed. “You are nasty Samuel, and you shouldn’t be because you are dying for fuck sakes!” she stressed. “Still on the waiting list for a heart transplant even now, and you have the nerve to go run off the only other person outside of myself that actually cares if you die or not. Carla is going to stomped you down into the grave and Natasha is going to be by her side” she said. “And you know Natasha just after your money, you dumb ass” she barked. “You’re so smart, but you so stupid” she tossed out.

Samuel looked down at the counter and he blinked slowly, the last thing he wanted someone to tell him is that he turned out to be just like his father. That man was garbage and he never liked him, never wanted to be him, and can’t stand him. Licking his lips, he sat there with his hands in his lap until she finished. “Well she’s gone, and she took Mackenna with her”.

“Good, I hope she doesn’t come back until you fix yourself” Michelle said.

“Right” Samuel said with a shake of his head “she might as well, she never loved me like I loved her anyway” he shrugged.

Michelle raised an eyebrow “I don’t know her personally but to be with you is to love you. Because God knows, it takes the heavens to deal with you” she told him. “Stop being dramatic..”

“I was a good fuck nothing more, if she didn’t get pregnant half of this would still be a fantasy” Samuel told Michelle.

“And if that’s true that’s neither here nor there now. She’s out of your hair if you feel that way, take care of your kids and move on” Michelle said easily.

Samuel smacked his teeth, “I want her to love me, I want her to see me” he said.

“See you? Now I know you are being very dramatic” Michelle asked, “what makes you think she doesn’t see you, you’re hard to miss baby?” she said confused. “She sees you and she knows you” she said running her hands through her long weave. “You can’t love and hate someone at the same time. Pick a side” she told him. “You use to cry over this girl, a grown man, as big as you are crying over this girl on my couch” she huffed. “Always wanting to know who could be seducing her and who could be taking your girl. And know you’ve thrown her into a big ass pond full of hungry sharks that will stop at nothing to make her their baby momma too, you a damn fool. Carla will never love you like she will love you, Natasha will never love you like she will love you, I care deeply I want you to succeed, I really truly do, I want you to be happy, because people don’t give you enough credit, man with you when it good it’s so good, you treat a woman like a literal Queen, but even I know that. I will never love you more than she will” she told him truthfully. “It just ain’t gonna happen baby”. She rested her hand on his back “she only dealt with you for this long because she has guilty of her own doings, but make no mistake, you’ve lost her because you’ve caused her to probably lose her damn self in you. And by damn, that’s the worst thing you could make a woman realize. The moment I woke up and said to myself this ass is really making me fall in love with the thought of him, I had to drop you, because I know you’d never be mine and I’d only play myself in the end…” she looked at him in his face, grabbing it she turned him to look at her and she said “leave her alone…. because you were sloppy, how I don’t know but you were. And you don’t really love her. Love would’ve kept your ass right at home.”

“I did not try to hurt her, I did not...” Samuel said as he gazed into her colored eyes. “I did not” he said again even as his glossed over.

“But you did” Michelle said softly. “You did, that’s exactly what you did. You hurt her” she told him.

“So now I’m left with nothing. I don’t have my child. I don’t have her and then there Carla and Natasha?” Samuel  asked.

“Don’t worry about Carla or Natasha, I have that handled. You just need to worry about yourself and being a great father to your kids. Even if you aren’t close to her you can still do plenty for Macky” Michelle said. “That is YOUR baby” she said “that’s something Mercedes can NOT take away from you. And if she tried she’s going to have to see me about that honey, because you are an amazing dad. And that’s what separates you from your own” she consoled. “You were destined to be this man the second the doctor told your mother it was a boy. Your mother should have protected you guys from him. Instead she chose not to” she sighed. “I wish I could say you could be a better man then the one that you are now, but I don’t really know if that’s true. With CJ, your guilt, your hate, and your father still being a dark cloud in your life… I mean. Could I really ask you to be better when there's chaos all around you every day?” she said sucking her teeth. “Either way, you are the you that you are, like it or leave it. She left it, so you have to like it. Accept it and move on. Change or stay the same. Endure or fall back, that’s your choice to make. I can’t make it for you” she said. “But change who you are for someone else? I won’t ask you to do that, the same qualities that people hate about you are the same ones that attract them too you and I be damn if I become a hypocrite. I love your rough and soft edges” she smiled. “You make mistakes, and no one is perfect. Someone needs to guide you and show you the way. They rather leave you out there to hang and dry. I’ve never been that chick. You gave the first ten-thousand-dollars it took to start my business. And what did I do, I repaid you by making a name for myself. I’ve never needed you, I’ve always appreciated what you’ve done for me, we had great times, great laughs, horrible fights, cries, the works. You’d leave me for her and the next chick. And I could never say or do anything, because you only do what a bitch will allow you to. I allowed you to be free. And so have others… they have to reap the consequences of it. And they have clearly. And with doing what you’ve done, you need to ask yourself do you like the person you see or not. Did you like that freedom? Did you like how the pain looked on her face? Did you like her tears, her confusion, her frustration? Then ask yourself would you do it to the next woman?” she said smartly. “I love the you that you are, I just didn’t love him enough to hurt myself. You know this. Now that you have this information what are you going to do now? Because you can’t have it all… you could have whatever you want. You could still run these streets, or you could become the man I know you could be… that’s your decision to make Samuel. Don’t let someone make it for you. Don’t make someone push to have to” she sighed. “Your writing, makes you happy. Get back to that and figure somethings out. Maybe it will hit you that you’ve never truly loved her, never truly wanted her, just was being selfish, and that there’s a girl that’s meant to be with you somewhere out there, she may be a blessing to fall down upon you from God himself.”

[forestwater87]

Can I have my boi David and tiny little turn ons and things that make his heart flutter - campcampman B)

I believe I’m a little predictable. But at least I’ve got a market, and I love you all!

When they discover they’ve got a crush:

David’s a simple man.

I’m not saying I don’t think he’d have any sort of fears or insecurities about liking someone, but I also feel like he doesn’t think that deeply about it. He likes someone, he enjoys being around them. I’m not even all that confident how romance factors into it; he sort of strikes me as a “if we’re together, I’m happy!” kind of fella.

How they confess/hint:

“H-hey, um, _____? Listen, I, ah, I was wondering if you might — well, I realize it’s short notice but I thought it might be fun if we … maybe … wentoutonadatenookaythenbye!” *zooms away*

Not very smooth, is what I’m saying.

Big gestures of love:

The man wears a fucking boutonniere on a date. 

He goes HAM with the big gestures. I’m talking flowers, I’m talking candles, rose petals, probably a band or quartet of some sort. The man will use his tiny camp salary to blow you away with romance. And when he has no more money he’ll make a picnic and take you out under the stars and show you how beautiful the forest is at nice.

He’s a bit of a hopeless romantic.

Little gestures of love:

I’m not confident David has little gestures of love. The man has 2 modes: thoughtful and sweet, and a total inconsiderate asshole. He’ll completely forget your anniversary because he was busy staring at butterflies or something, but he’ll also drive 20 minutes out of his way to find the exact brand of chocolate you like when you’ve had a bad day.

How to win their heart:

Do you like camping? Do you like nature? Do you like kids? Do you like anything? 

No? It’s okay, David loves you anyway and is probably choosing to gloss over or ignore the fact that you don’t like the same things he does. I’m pretty sure the only people in canon he doesn’t like are Jermy Fartz and Jacob, so don’t be a nasty unpleasant child who makes out with dogs and don’t date his ex-girlfriend and you should get on like a house on fire.

How to break their heart:

Why would you ever want to do that, you monster?! He’s so sweet and fragile!

But I do think homeboy has some abandonment issues. Rejection seems to hit him pretty goddamn hard (when it sinks in; see the glossing-over bit from the last question), and I think feeling unwanted would be enough to break the boy.

Tiny little turn-ons:

I think he’s a bit of a princess. He likes to feel special and that’s probably the quickest way to win him over. He also loves cuddles and hand holding (it’s like a hug for your hands!) and little affectionate kisses on the nose/forehead/cheek/hand.

*coughs* Okay I also headcanon hard that he’s an ass man. I’m sorry, I just do.

Big turn-ons:

*turns to Massive Pile O’ Gwenvid Smut* Um … being called “sir.” But also is a total switch and very naturally submissive. Neck kisses/hickeys/being marked. I like to think (stolen from @ciphernetics​, as are all my best things) that the scars he’d have on his hands from being stabbed are really sensitive.

I wrote a whole collection of sexuality headcanons for this man, please consult that or aforementioned Massive Pile O’ Smut for more. I think those are the big ones, though.

Things that make their heart flutter:

Friendship! Just overt expressions of affection in general, and for people less obviously sweet like Gwen ohhoho I am the trash queen I imagine he learns how to read between the lines and pick up when someone’s genuinely trying to show him they care, and he appreciates things like that.

But being pulled into hugs/kisses and picked up like a sack of potatoes and just general snuggly goodness? I think that’d make him melt, because while I don’t necessarily imagine he’s touch- or affection-starved, he’s obviously a very tactile person.

Their type:

WE KNOW THIS! It happens to be smart-mouthed, tough, dark-skinned women who could probably kill him. I also think he has a thing for big teddy-bear-type guys, but canonically? David wants a lady who could snap him in half.

Ideal date:

The forest! Probably a picnic or a nice meal followed by a long walk in nature (I could see him liking walks on the beach, the fucking cliche. What a dork). But I also think he’d really enjoy planning a date, like cooking a meal or setting up a thing; it’d probably remind him of planning camp activities, and he just seems like the kind of person who loves running things.

Past relationships:

Nope. Pure undiluted virgin. Maybe kissed someone in highschool, but it wasn’t something he especially enjoyed, so while he entertains crushes and *ahem* the like, I have a hard time imagining him having had a ton of relationship experience, both because he’s just so painfully innocent-seeming and because … I mean, who outside the fandom would want to date him?

How they might affect current relationships:

He’s very nervous about getting things right, and does absurd amounts of research on everything from navigating the first fight to how to perform anilingus. Asks lots of questions, is very quick to backpedal and skittish in general, must be led by the hand, but is also ridiculously enthusiastic about everything and eager to learn. Feels … lucky, kind of, to be given the chance by someone so swell, and he really wants to make sure he doesn’t mess it up.

‘Goals’ in a relationship (marriage, kids, a house, etc):

Yep. Those are the ones. I feel like David’s very much a “been planning his wedding since he was 5 years old” kinda person. Hugely romantic, and while I also think he’d end up being very happy in a less traditional lifestyle, I’m not sure it would even occur to him without some kind of catalyst. There’s something about him that seems a little bit old-fashioned, I guess.

Any other love headcanons:

He just wants to be loved. He has so much love to give and things never seem to quite work out, but he’s confident that they will! He’s a great believer in the power of positive thinking.

Oh, and he was absolutely in love with Jasper. At the very least harbored a serious crush. I will not be swayed on this one.

[sanversinsane]

Gun Range.

I’m really bad at naming these things. Basically this is the story of Waverly and Nicole’s first date at a gun range. Theres a hot makeup session in the back of Nicole’s car...and then more stuff. Kind of smutty. ENJOY! (Oh also, I didn’t really proof read it so sorry if there’s mistakes!) 

“Oh God Waves, if that how you hold your gun I'm terrified for the people around you.” Nicole laughed when Waverly took her stance.

Technically this was only Waverly and Nicole's first real date, although it already felt like they had been together forever. Nicole was insanely nervous but at least they were at a place she felt her most comfortable, the shooting range.

“Is it really that bad?” Waverly asked with a bashful smile.

“If you're trying to hit the target? Yeah it's pretty bad.” Nicole laughed as she put down her gun and made her way to Waverly's side. “The good news is, we can work on it.”

“So what am I doing wrong?” Waverly asked.

“A few things.” Nicole commented as she made her way behind Waverly. She got distracted for a moment by the way she smelt like strawberries and fresh flowers. “So first is your hold.” Nicole said as she slid her hands over Waverly's. “You want your dominant hand firmly gripping the bottom here.” She said as she moved the smaller woman's right hand to the correct position. “And then this hand, on the opposite side, and wrapped around that one. Like this.” She guided her other hand too. “This is called a low grip and its most common with hand guns. It give the handler the most control.”

Waverly gulped and nodded. She wasn't sure if Nicole was aware of how closer her mouth was to her ear but it was enough to send chills down Waverly's spine. Plus the feel of Nicole's body pressed against her back, and their hands touching. It all made her just want more! “So what else?” She tried to hide it but Waverly could hear the breathiness in her own voice.

“Well…” Nicole lifted her knee and spread Waverly's legs a bit. “You're legs need to be further apart.” Waverly felt her breath hitch at the quick contact between her legs. “Good. This back leg….” Nicole said tapping the back of Waverly's left thigh. “Should be level with your other leg, so bring that forward.” Nicole kept her hand there, below her ass, on the back of her thigh, as Waverly shifted her leg forward. Waverly could feel the heat rising in the room. She was beginning to sweat. But Nicole seemed fine. “Good girl.” Waverly closed her eyes and had to physically hold herself back from groaning. Nicole Haught was trying to kill her, on their first date.

“Okay now, you want your whole body pointing at the target.” Your whole, magnificent, perfect. Sexy as hell body. Nicole was trying so hard to keep it together, to sound in control, but on the inside she was losing it. Waverly body was pressed against hers, and she was touching her. Their first kiss was still seared into her brain, and all she could think about was how she wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

“Like this?” Waverly asked snapping Nicole out of her own dirty thoughts of all the things she wanted to do to Waverly.

“Um yeah. That's perfect.” Nicole nodded. “Last thing is you want to keep your arms straight and locked.” Nicole ran her hands down Waverly's arms until her hands were resting over hers again. She could feel the goosebumps that formed on Waverly skin, that's how she knew Waverly felt it too. She shifted their arms just an inch and positioned Waverly for the Target. “Now bend your knees a bit. You want to keep your back straight…” Nicole spoke quietly “but lean forward.” As Waverly shifted, the position put her ass right between Nicole's legs. She was just about ready to lose it. But it probably wasn't the best time or place with Waverly having a gun in her hand. “Good.” She sighed. “Now bring that index finger up.” Nicole found herself whispering, her lips hovering over Waverly's ear. “Place it over the trigger. Take a deep breath. And shoot.” When Waverly pulled the trigger her body kicked back into Nicole's, but she hit the target perfectly.

“I did it!” She yelled as she put the gun down and spun in Nicole's arms. “I hit it!”

“You did so good!” Nicole couldn't help but match her girlfriend excitement. She lifted her up and spun her around once before putting her back on the ground. “See what ha-”

Nicole was in the middle of talking when Waverly's lips covered hers. Damn this woman and her surprise kisses. Nicole wasted no time falling into it. She let her hands slide around Waverly's waist, while Waverly's hands tied around Nicole's neck. Nicole took a step forward until Waverly's back was resting against the table her gun was resting on. Probably not the safest things but her mind was only consumed with the lips she was kissing. They both pulled away breathing heavy. Waverly's eyes were dark and hooded.

“Who knew guns would be such a turn on?” Waverly smirked a bit.

Nicole laughed and shrugged her shoulder. “How about a couple more shots, and then we get out of here?” Nicole asked.

“Only if you promise to keep helping me.”

“Of course.” Nicole's nodded. “I want you hitting that target every time.” She didn't mean for it to sound dirty, but it kind of did. They both giggled before Waverly turned again and picked up her gun.

After a few more shots they pulled in the target Waverly was shooting at so she could keep it. She folded it up and placed it in her pocket. “You ready?” Nicole said nodding toward the exit.

“Well wait…” Waverly said tugging Nicole's hand back to her. “I didn't get to watch you shoot.” Waverly nodded her head toward Nicole's target that hadn't even been touched.

“Oh okay.” Nicole smirked. “You mind if I?”

“Please do.”

Waverly stood back and took in the sight of Nicole's tall lean body taking position. God, she was maybe the hottest person Waverly had ever met. And seeing her standing there with that gun in her hand, such confidence, such control, made Waverly want to pounce. And then she shot it. Four shots in a row

BAM

BAM

BAM

BAM

each one hit the target perfectly. Oddly enough, Waverly was sure she had never been more turned on in her life.

Nicole smiled put the gun down and reeled in her paper target, a clear hole straight through the middle.

“Okay show off.” Waverly laughed as Nicole folded up the paper.

“Hey! You asked to see me shoot!” Nicole laughed as she grabbed Waverly's hand.

“I know, and God I'm glad I did.” Waverly smiled up at her. “You've never looked so hot, Haught.”

“You ready to go?” Nicole felt herself blush, Waverly nodded. All Nicole wanted to do was grab Waverly's hand and yank her to a quiet place.

As they made their way to Nicole's car, Waverly stopped walking and pull Nicole's hand towards her, causing her to turn. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Waverly snaked her arms slowly around Nicole's neck again. “Would it be totally immature of us to make out in the back seat of your car? Because I kin-”

It was Waverly's turn to be interrupted by Nicole's lips this time. Nicole took a few steps forward pinning Waverly against her car as they kissed. It was hot, fast, and full of want. “So immature….” Nicole nodded as she reached her hand down and pulled the door handle up. “Let's do it.” She laughed with Waverly as they made their way into the back seat of her car.

After a minute or two of making out, Waverly found herself laying across the back seat. Her small body fit perfect, with Nicole's tall body kneeling above her. Nicole's lips had absentmindedly drifted to Waverly neck. Nicole found a spot that made Waverly shiver and she couldn't help the moan that left her lips. “Nicole.”

Hands were starting to drift and that's when Nicole pulled back panting. “Maybe we should stop.”

Waverly was overcome with confusion. She didn't want to stop! She never wanted to stop. But if Nicole wanted to she would. “I mean...if you want to.”

“It's just….” Nicole sat up a bit and Waverly propped herself up on her elbows. “I want our first time together to be better than this.” Nicole explained. “You deserve more than the back seat of my car, or the couch in Nedley office. I want it to be special and for it to mean something.”

Waverly felt the tears spring up in her eyes. No one had ever cared for her like that. Hell, her first time with Champ was under the bleachers after a football game! There was never any tenderness, any softness, any love. But Nicole was the opposite. She smiled up at the woman sitting on her lap. “Can we still make out though? Cause I was kind of, really, enjoying that.” She giggled. Nicole laughed with Waverly as she leaned forward again and Waverly laid back down. Their lips attached again.

At some point both women shifted their bodies a bit. Waverly bent her knees up, and Nicole rested one leg between them. Waverly hadn't even noticed the pressure building between her legs, or the way her stomach started to clench. She was wrapped up in tasting Nicole's tongue that she hadn't even realized that her hips were slowly grinding against Nicole’s thigh. She hadn't notice it at all...until she was yanking her lips away from Nicole's and gasping. “Oh my god!” She cried out as she gripped the sleeve of Nicole's shirt so tight her knuckles turned white. Her eyes squeezed shut, her toes curled under, and all the tension in her body released in one powerful ripple.

Nicole sat above her, stunned.

When Waverly's orgasm passed, she tried her hardest to find her breath again. Her chest was heaving up and down, and her eyes were still closed. When she finally felt like she could breath again, she let out a blissful sigh and opened her eyes.

The first things she saw was Nicole's face. Those sparkly big brown eyes, her cute little dimples. “Hey.” Nicole chuckled.

And then it hit her. All at once it register what had just happened. She had orgasmed….while grinding against Nicole's leg...fully clothed. “Oh. My God.” Waverly groaned as she covered her red face. She was mortified. “Nicole I'm so, so sorry.” She mumbled into her hands.

“What are you apologizing for?!” Nicole laughed.

“Well I just….I mean...you just gave this whole beautiful speech...and then I just…” Waverly couldn't find the words. Her embarrassment took over any ability she had to think.

“Hey...hey.” Nicole smiled as she pulled Waverly's hands away from her face, Waverly's eyes were still squeezed shut. “Look at me.” She said softly and Waverly slowly opened her eyes. “You never have to apologize for that….ever.” Nicole could stop smile. “God baby that was…” suddenly Nicole realized it was the first time she had called Waverly baby. It had just slipped out. “I'm sorry, was that weird?”

“No. No I liked it.” Waverly felt herself smile and relax again.

Nicole blushed a bit and then continued what she was saying. “Waverly that was beautiful. You're...you're so beautiful.” Nicole let her hand cup Waverly's cheek.

“I...I really didn't expect for that to happen.” Waverly explained. “I mean, it's usually so hard for me to…” her eyes widened and she motioned to their legs.

“Orgasm?” Nicole finished for her.

“Yeah.” Waverly chuckled. “With Champ there were times when I never would, and if I did it took a lot of work. But that just...it just happened. And it felt so, SO good.”

Nicole smiled wider and then buried her face in the crook of Waverly's neck as she laughed. “Well I'm glad you enjoyed it.” Her laughter quickly died out and she began to gently kissed Waverly's skin. “And if you thought that was good...you have no idea what's coming.” Nicole kissed just below her ear.

“I have a feeling it's gonna be me again if we stay like this.” Waverly giggled.

Nicole laughed and sat back up. “You ready to go?” She asked.

“Well do you…” Waverly raised her brow at Nicole. “Need to?” She finished.

Nicole laughed again. “I don't need to.” She gave her a sweet smile before saying. “We've got plenty of time baby. No need to rush.”

There it was again, “baby”. It sounded so nice coming from Nicole's lips. Waverly sat up and kissed Nicole on the lips one last time.

The car ride home was silent but comfortable. Waverly and Nicole held hands as they drove. Nicole's thumb gently swiping on the back of Waverly's hand.

When they got back to the homestead Nicole walked Waverly back to the door. They didn't say a word before they embraced in a kiss. Waverly pulled away breathlessly. “I don't want you to leave.” She whispered as she rested her forehead head against Nicole's.

“I don't want to leave.” Nicole replied quickly, gently, kissing her nose.

“Stay.” Waverly whispered.

“I'd love to baby…” Nicole sighed. “But I have work really early tomorrow morning.” Waverly felt the disappointment sink down into her gut. “But…” Nicole chimed in “I have off this weekend.” She smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Waverly suddenly perked up.

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded. “So maybe we can hang out then?”

“Definitely.” Waverly grinned up at her.

“Okay great.” Nicole leaned down and gave Waverly one more kiss. “Call me tomorrow?” She asked and Waverly nodded. “Okay.” She backed away. “Night baby.”

Waverly leaned against the wooden pole holding up her front porch. “Night.” She smiled as she watched Nicole make her way back to her car. She waited to go inside until Nicole’s car was out of view. It took everything inside of her not to squeal and scream with how happy she was. She never wanted to let that feeling go...and she never did.

[hayjeon]

Your idiot (ft. Jeongguk)

Drabble Game Prompt 49. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”

→ cardiopalps!jk, boyfriend!jk, cardio surgeon!jk, aka disgusting amount of fluff, sequel to cardio palps twoshot → 2k words, requested by my soulmate @yoongihime <3 

A/N: I highly suggest reading the twoshot first! Plus, there might be another member’s story coming out of this au “might!!1″ wink wonk enjoy

If looks could kill, Jeon Jeongguk would be on the ground and frothing at the mouth right now. 

But instead, he was smiling down at the bitch who was busy rubbing her tits all over his arm as he walked over your way in the cafeteria. Her arm was looped around his, as she hung like a koala onto him, her chest on his bicep as she hugged it toward her torso and giggled along with the other nurses who were busy chatting with your man. 

Said boyfriend, oblivious to the daggers you were mentally stabbing into his eyeballs, was in the line for the hospital lunch. It wasn’t technically all his fault for being cute. It was the reason you decided to keep him, anyway, among other things. But it bothered you a ton when other girls noticed it. 

He chatted happily with the girls and their giggling echoed halfway across the cafeteria, making you roll your eyes. 

“Roll your eyes any harder and they’ll be stuck that way.” Jimin comments, chewing loudly on his food. You groan, glaring at the pair. 

“Literally, she’s fucking him with her eyes.” 

Jimin chokes, grumbling at you. “Ugh, I’m eating.” Glancing at the sight, he shrugs. “Just trust him, Y/N. Everyone knows you’ll kick his ass if he does anything like that.” 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” 

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he shoves the food in his mouth. “Uh, I don’t mmph-know, not my place to tell--” 

“What?” 

He’s saved when Jeongguk jogs happily your way, and you ignore the odd comment from Jimin because you’re suddenly thankful that Jimin had graciously set aside a seat for him on the edge of the table because the bitch Nayeon was currently coming this way. 

“--and that’s the trend these days!” She laughed loudly, smacking his bicep as she threw her head back in a giggle. He joined in with her, laughing and setting his tray down on the table. 

She stops, eyeing how you and Jimin surround his corner seat, and the only way she’d be able to sit at the table would be to either sit next to you, or across from Jimin. Both seats not adjacent to the one she clearly had her sights on. 

“Well, nice talking to you Nayeon, see you later!” Jeongguk gave her a smile and sat down on the table, turning to you and Jimin with a smile. Nayeon hovers for a second, eyeing your piercing glare and huffs and walks away to where the other nurses were eating and all returning your glare. 

Jimin gulped his drink as Jeongguk looked at you guys with a bright expression and chirped, “What’s up?” 

“You’re screwed man.” 

“Why?” Jimin eyed your eye-roll and shoved the last piece of meat in his mouth quickly. “Umph-- bye!” He scurried off with his tray and Jeongguk turned to you with a quizzical look. “What’s up with him?” 

You crossed your arms, leaning back in your seat. “Oh, I don’t know, what is up?” 

He frowns, putting his fork down. “Woah, what did I do this time?” 

You huff, blowing your hair out of your face. Today was not a good day. After two emergency surgeries and the last patient going into cardiac arrest that nearly scared the shit out of you, you were not ready to have this dumb ass conversation with Jeongguk, your oblivious, attractive-as-fuck boyfriend and co-leader of the cardio department. 

“How does it feel to have Nayeon’s tits all over your arm while I’m sitting here covered in my own sweat because my last patient went into arrest?” 

He sighed, glancing back at the table of nurses who were currently trying to shoot lasers at your head with their eyes. Once he turned, they all switched, smiling sweetly and giggling at him. You scoffed, grabbing your tray and getting up. 

“W-wait! Y/N!” Jeongguk sprang up and followed you, tossing his tray out and scurrying behind you. “I’m sorry, okay? I was just asking her something.” 

You stopped in your tracks, facing him with an accusing expression. “What?” 

“Huh?” 

“What, were you asking her about? Hm?” 

He paused. “Uh, I can’t really say.” 

You threw your hands up in the air, turning on your heel and storming down the hall. “Well then, for fucks sake, you guys could’ve been discussing the ways she probably wants to suck your dick for all I know!” 

He runs in front of you, walking backwards as you storm towards him. “Wait, Y/N, you’re jealous.” A satisfied smirk crawls over his features and you grunt in annoyance as you turn down the hall and towards your office. 

He jogs after you, smiling widely. “You’re so hot when you’re jealous.” 

You glare at him, stopping in front of your office door. “Well, I hope I’m not too hot when I say no sex for the next two weeks.” His face falls and he begins stuttering, “W-wait, w-what? Hey, you can’t do that!” 

Punching in the code and facing him with a glare, you sneer, “We’ll see about that.” And slam the door in his face. 

A week and two days later, you’re regretting what you said. Jeongguk has sulked and walked around with his tail between his legs for the past week, and hasn’t tried hitting on you at all. Which was odd, because he usually never left you alone at home. But nonetheless you were frustrated and didn’t have enough time or the energy to do it yourself. Plus, it didn’t feel as good. 

You know Jeongguk would never cheat on you. Heck, a while ago, he didn’t even give Taehyung’s new fellow a glance, and she was gorgeous even from a girl’s perspective. Everyone knew that Jeongguk was head over heels for you and the last thing he’d do was cheat. But you were being petty, just because you had a bad day, and you ended up taking it out on your boyfriend. You knew you had to apologize soon. 

It’s midnight and you’re grumbling and thinking of maybe just going into his office and maybe tackling him and maybe having some angry sex but suddenly the lights in your office go out. 

“What the--” You stand up, glancing around. If the electricity went out in a hospital, it was most likely going to end up as an emergency. No power meant no electricity to plug heart monitors, no lights for surgeries, no computer systems organizing doctor schedules. It was code gray. 

You grabbed your doctor’s coat and burst out of the office, to find it completely dark as well, other doctor’s offices completely dark and empty as you run down towards reception. But as you run towards the lobby of the staff floor, you glance behind you and see some light shining through Jeongguk’s door crack, lighting up the hallway a little bit. 

Frowning, you pause in your step and slowly walk back, the darkness obstructing your view. When you get there, you call out, “Jeongguk?” but no one responds, so you pad closer, and yank on the doorknob.

And there, is Jeongguk, calmly standing in the midst of his office, surrounded by candles. 

There are candles everywhere, on his office desk, his chair, the windowsill, the bookcases that line the walls, the couches, and in front of you, is a small walkway that leads to him. He’s wearing a nice dress shirt and slacks, his hair slicked up in the way he did it when he was trying to take you on a nice date, and his smile so big his eyes were disappearing. You gasped as you step in, eyes wide as you take in everything. 

The room is cast in a golden glow, and all you see at the moment is Jeon Jeongguk. 

“Jeongguk, what is thi--” 

“Y/N,” He cuts you off, getting down on his knee. You gasp, and he just smiles at you and moves something in his hands, opening a small box, revealing a brilliant diamond ring. “It’s been almost an entire year since we became official, and it’s been the best year of my life. You’re someone I’ve known and unknowingly loved for half my life, and I wasn’t even able to realize how much I actually loved you until the past two years. And I don’t want to lose any more time. I want to love you, and cherish you, and keep you, and know that I love you for the rest of the years to come.” 

The tears start rolling as he confesses in a way that makes your heart clench. 

“You’re my co-worker, my awesome and smart co-leader, my college buddy, my best friend, and my amazing girlfriend.” He smiles, getting up as your tears are literally pouring out to the point that you can’t see him anymore. Stepping closer to you, he finishes with the last part. “But that’s not enough, because I want you to be the one I wake up to every single morning, the one who I come home to everyday, the one who I can confidently say belongs to me and me to you, and the one I love no matter what happens. I want you to be the mother of my children, the daughter-in-law my parents have always wanted, and especially, my wife. So, will you marry me?” 

He looks down at you, just a step away from you and you’re literally bawling ugly cries at this point, but you manage a bleary, “yes!” and he’s wrapping you up in his arms as you blubber against his shoulder, and he chuckles into your ear, soothing your hair and whispering encouraging words as you calm down. 

“Can I put the ring on you?” 

He breaks away when he feels you nod against his shoulder and smiles down at your pouty face as you hold out your hand. He slides the ring, a gorgeous huge thing, onto your finger, and grabs your face, smiling big down at you, chuckling at your state. 

“I love you so much.” He leans down and kisses you, just a long firm press of his soft lips against yours, but they hold so so so much promise and so much adoration, you’re melting in his arms. Suddenly, the lights come on and there’s cheering as the door is yanked open, and you turn in Jeongguk’s arms to see a bunch of people in the hallway from your department, cheering excitedly with bouquets of flowers and streamers in their hands. You laugh as Jeongguk smiles down at you, hugging you close. 

Jimin comes forward with a bundle of roses. “Here’s for the new couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon!” You giggle and receive them, and the nurses ogle at your ring. 

“Was this what you mentioned in the cafeteria that day?” You asked, and Jimin smiled widely, nodding. You gasped, “So everyone knew about this?!” 

The nurses and doctors and even a few patients cheered as they began taking pictures of you two, laughing and giggling at your tear-streaked cheeks and your surprise. Jeongguk just holds you close, and you smile back at him, because you realize he’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened in your damn life. 

You’re lying down together, cuddled in his bed after the celebration, snuggled in the warm blankets and the ring shining brightly on your finger. Looking down at it, he hugs you from behind, kissing the spot behind your ear lightly. 

“Was this why you couldn’t tell me what happened? And why you were so distant the past two weeks?” You ask, smiling back at him. 

He nods, “I was asking Nayeon to help me brainstorm an idea from a girl’s perspective, and she was only looking at us because she told the other nurses about it. Plus, I was also trying to think of ways to stay away from you just in case I blew it and you found the box in my pants pockets or like found the hundred candles stuffed in the closet or something. Good thing you said no sex for two weeks or else, I would’ve done something to keep you away from me while I planned this thing.” 

You turned, punching him in the chest as your jaw drops open. It molds into a smile though, because he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to him with a smile. “You’re too predictable.” 

You wrap your arms around him, pressing yourself to him with a smile. “Well, the two week ban is definitely over. I thought I was gonna die.” 

Laughing, he pulls you onto his lap, threading his hands through your hair. “Me too. But I knew I wanted to make this perfect, and I suck at lying to especially you, so I knew I had to stay away.” 

Pressing your forehead against his, you whisper, “You’re an idiot you know that?” 

He just smiles up at you, with so much love and adoration, and murmurs, “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” And presses his lips to yours. 

[sad-af1121]

Dinner Party (One-shot)

Summary: You hadn’t seen Sebastian since he left to film Infinity Wars and he was coming home tonight so you and your girlfriend decided to have a small dinner with just the three of you. What happened after, was unexpected. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Bisexual!Reader x Reader’s Girlfriend  Word Count: 3180 Warnings: thigh riding, language, bisexual lovin’ A/N: This was all inspired by Sebastian’s pic with the beard, yeah you know the one. AND because of pride month! Feedback is welcomed 💜

“Hey babe,” you said to your girlfriend who was sitting on the kitchen counter. “What time does Seb get here?”

“Um, around 5. That’s what he texted me before boarding his flight.” She mumbled as she continued to eat her bowl of freshly cut strawberries.

“Alright, that’s good. It’s almost 4 so I can hurry up and change,” you stated as you were adding the final touches on the lasagna dish you had made for tonight’s dinner along with a light salad and freshly baked rolls. The kitchen was filled with the sweet aroma of tomatoes and basil which pranced around the air as it created a warm home-like essence into the atmosphere.

Your best friend, Sebastian, was flying back from filming Infinity Wars and you hadn’t seen him since. Knowing he would be tired and stressed when he came back, you decided to cook a nice home meal instead of ordering take-out. You called his mother in advance, asking her what Sebastian loved to eat and she gave you one of her recipes that he adored.

Having everything cooked and the table set, you quickly wiped your hands with a towel before setting it on the counter as your girlfriend hopped off and swiftly pulled you in for a kiss. You giggled in surprise and immediately melted into it, tasting the sweetness of the strawberries on her tongue.

“What’s that for?” you hummed as you pulled away, seeing her eyes dilated and her cheeks flushed. You gulped, feeling her hands slide down to your ass and giving it a good firm squeeze before placing her arms on your shoulders, interlocking her hands behind your head.

“Seb’s coming over… you think you can behave?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. You felt your mouth run dry as you tried to form words. She knew your crush on Sebastian was bad and every time he came near you, you’d turn into putty. You couldn’t help but fall for his dreamy blue eyes, chiseled jaw structure, and built physique. He was so caring, humorous, and never let a dull moment get to him. You adored everything about him.

Your girlfriend was fond of Sebastian and liked him too, especially the way he made you weak in the knees. It gave her more leverage when she would tease you every now and then, whispering what you’d want Sebastian to do in the bedroom whenever you two were having sex. It drove you mad but hell, it gave you the most powerful release ever. But since tonight was only the three of you, you were nervous that, like many occasions, things will get out of hand from drinking. So this time, you took the precaution of making sure to open one bottle of wine and no beers whatsoever by hiding the alcohol so that your girlfriend nor Sebastian could find them.

“Y-yeah, don’t worry. But I can’t help it when he flirts back” you warned feeling the familiar butterflies roaming around your stomach.

“Then just don’t look so obvious, yeah?” she smiled before leaning in to peck your lips once more before smacking your ass to go get changed.

You were mentally hating yourself.

*

Once you were dressed in a simple off the shoulder black dress with your hair up in a messy bun and light makeup, you walked back out into the living room making sure everything was neat and put together. Your girlfriend sat quietly on the couch clad in jeans and a blouse with her hair down as she watched TV when you heard your phone chime. You hurried to it, seeing a message from Seb.

Hey, I’m here. Buzz me in.

Walking over to the intercom, you allowed Sebastian in and waited by the door as Seb made it up to your apartment. Sebastian was exhausted from his flight but he was ecstatic to see you two. He wore a gray t-shirt that clung onto his beefy arms, broad shoulders and chest. His blue jeans fit his thick thighs like a glove as he rocked some Adidas shoes. He had missed you guys and couldn’t wait to see the look on your faces when you saw how different he looked. He’d spent so much time focusing on himself and shaping his body.

Sebastian stood in front of the door, blowing out a sigh before knocking softly on the door with two flower bouquets in his other hand. He knew you had a crush on him and he thought it was the cutest thing ever but he knew you meant well and always put your friendship first above all.

Opening the door, your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes widen seeing Sebastian. He has a big smile displayed on his face seeing your reaction since he now had a full-grown beard. Not wasting any time, you leaped into his arms and he gladly caught you. You felt the vibrations erupting from his chest when he laughed seeing your response and affection towards him.

“Oh my god, Seb! Look at you!” you pulled away and held him at arm’s length, taking in his new appearance. Not only did he have a beard but he had gotten leaner and thick. You felt your cheeks burn bright red when you saw how huge his chest, arms, and thighs had gotten. The last time you saw him like this was when he was filming Civil War, but he had gone overboard with working out and his diet. However, this time around he seemed happier and he didn’t look too beefy. You were glad he wasn’t torturing his body but looking out for it.

“Yeah, well I had to put that work in for the movie.” He smiled as he stepped inside handed you and your girlfriend the bouquet of flowers.

“But the beard? I thought you went to play as Bucky, not Wolverine.” Your girlfriend joked as you walked into the kitchen, grabbing the flowers and putting them into vases.

“That’s a good one. I’ve been told I look like a Romanian lumberjack” he laughed out, shaking his head as he walked over into the dining room, seeing the food laid out on the table. “Holy shit, you made this?” he asked as he took a carrot from the salad bowl and threw it in his mouth.

“Ah, yeah. I’m not always lazy, ya know.” You chuckled, setting down the bottle of wine and glasses on the table. “Let’s eat!”

*

Two wine bottles and three beers.

That’s how much you all drank during and after dinner. You were so lost into Sebastian that your girlfriend found your stash and started pouring more and more wine into your glass. She wanted you drunk off your ass because according to her you’re “way more fun and relaxed.”

 The alcohol coursed through your blood, heating your body and sending you into a trance as it spun the room. A wave of confidence and playfulness hit you when Sebastian started messing around, recalling old memories of the two of you goofing about before he had become noticed by the media. You always cherished those moments especially since they were with him.

The three of you sat in your living room chatting about Sebastian’s time in Atlanta and how the filming went. Like a little school girl during reading time, you sat close by Sebastian eager to hear about his trip and trying to get any movie spoilers from him.

Even though you’d know he would never say anything.

As you gawked at his beautiful features, you noticed his body inching closer to you but you thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Your eyes had become darker than normal carrying a twinkle as you listen to his deep, husky voice get low by the minute. Sebastian draped both of his arms over the back of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol. He was laughing and snickering louder as his eyes became heavy. He stared down at you, his breathing picking up as he saw gorgeous you looked tonight.

Your girlfriend sat across from you listening to Sebastian in amusement as she could tell both of you were drunk. Your cheeks remained rosy pink as you basked in the moment, never wanting it to end and sighing in content. As Sebastian was finishing up his story, your girlfriend noticed his hand on your thigh as he stroked your soft smooth skin with his thumb. You felt a shiver course through your body when he turned his head to you, biting down on his plump lips smirking a bit. You felt your panties begin to soak from your slick just by the thought of devouring his lips and fucking his cock as your girlfriend watched and touched herself.

“You alright?” he asked, snapping you out from your thoughts.

“Mhm, yeah. I-I’m good” you coughed out feeling overwhelmed by his lingering stares and touch. Your skin prickled as he continued to soothe your thigh with his calloused rough hand, traveling up a bit higher this time. Your breath hitched feeling your skin burn with desire as you inhaled your sweet arousal emitting from your core, sending you into a dreamy state. A deep throaty groan emitted from Sebastian as he shuts his eyes and swallowed heavily, trying to ground himself as he felt his cock twitch in his jeans.

You turned to look at your girlfriend who had a cheeky grin displayed on her face that confused you. Without a word, she got up and made her way over as she sat down on the other side of Sebastian, placing her delicate hand on his broad chest.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” she purred as she raised an eyebrow at you. Your eyes widened, knowing the look she was giving you and it only meant trouble. “As an early birthday gift for Y/N, would you mind if we grind on your thighs?” Her voice held innocence but the smirk on her face and lust blown eyes said otherwise. She bit her lip in anticipation as Sebastian raised his brows, looking at her with amusement and mischief written all over his face.

“Really?” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks grow hot as his ears turned a dark shade of pink. His eyelids stayed hooded holding a smirk as he bit his bottom lip, dragging it with his teeth. He couldn’t tell if he was just hearing things because he was drunk or that he wanted to hear those words coming from her. Whenever he saw the two of you kiss or touch each other affectionately, he’d have to control himself imagining the two of you being intimate. It drove his nuts.

“Do you want that, Y/N?” he turned to you asking as his words linger on. The way your name rolls off his tongue makes you whimper as if he’d been teasing you for hours. You licked your lips rubbing your thighs together in keenness at the thought before nodding lightly.

“Yes,” your voice came out small and shaky as your girlfriend smiled wider before getting up from the couch. She strolled on over.

“Let’s not waste any time, baby.” she said.

“Yeah, c’mon. You’ll enjoy it, I promise you.” Sebastian hummed as he turned his attention back to your girlfriend. She was unbuttoning her jeans, slowly dragging down the zipper before pushing her jeans until they pooled around her ankles. Her panties were next as she hooked her fingers around the waistband and pulled them down.

You gulped feeling sweat forming on your forehead, whimpering as you say how wet her panties were. The sight of her cunt made you want to take her right there, yearning for some sort of release but that wasn’t the case in this situation. As you stood to take off your panties, you felt somewhat embarrassed for being exposed. But fuck it, you couldn’t pass on this opportunity. You were all adults and knew what you were getting yourself into.

You held the flimsy material that was drenched in your heat. A darker shade of blush crept on your cheeks as you looked up at Sebastian who had his legs wide apart, displaying dominance as he stared at you through hooded lids. His eyes held a predatory glare, and couldn’t wait any longer, especially seeing the both of you half naked.

“Jesus Christ… “Sebastian muttered under his breath, smirking as he saw both of squeeze your thighs before walking over. You threw on leg over his thigh, straddling it and moaning softly to the feeling of his muscles contracting underneath you. You scooted up until your knee was placed in front of his growing erection.

Suddenly that wave of confidence returns as your girlfriend straddles his other thigh and you smirked at her as she began to grind against him. Her soft moans made goosebumps rise on your own heated skin as you pushed your knee into Sebastian’s crotch, earning a gasp.

“You said thigh, not cock, dragă mea” he growled and brought his hand to the small of your back as you rubbed your bare cunt on his thigh. You have never heard his voice that low and deep, dropping a few octaves. The rough material of his jeans created a better friction as it nudged your clit with every move.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut as you grabbed your breast and began kneading it with your free hand as the other was used to steady yourself on Sebastian’s thigh. Your girlfriend started getting rougher, speeding up her pace as she felt her orgasm nearing, however you opened your eyes, quickly pulling her in for a kiss by wrapping your hand around the back of her head. Humming into the kiss, you set a good pace as you grinded on Sebastian.

He stared up at the two of you. His breathing picked up, becoming ragged and short as his cock strained in his jeans. He needed release seeing how you and your girlfriend were in full bliss and using him to get off. He threw his head back as the room was filled with the soft moans and whimpers emitting from the two of you.

Your girlfriend pulled away to lean down and kiss Sebastian. He sucked in a breath, getting caught off guard as so were you. She melted into the kiss like ice cream on a hot summer’s day, groaning when Sebastian gripped her backside, digging his nails into her soft flesh. You felt the heat on your face increase when you saw the two begin to make out.

You quickened your pace, pushing down the sleeves of your dress to expose your breasts that have spilled out of your bra. Placing one hand on the back of the couch and on Sebastian’s chest, you focused on getting off as your closed your eyes and concentrated.

“Oh fuck. I’ve al-always wanted to do this. You f-feel so fucken good. Shit!” You heard a dark deep growl come from Sebastian as he heard what you said and saw how your breasts rhythmically moved with your actions. You felt as his other hand grip your ass as he got lost in your soft round mounds.

Sebastian was intoxicated with the burning desire for this moment never to end, but he felt his cock throb with every movement you two made against him. He stared at your breast as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to stifle his moans. You noticed this and couldn’t help but nudged your knee against his girth making his gasp and moan.

“F-fuck, ah! … that felt good.” he groaned as you continued to rub his groin. He could feel his precum dripping out and staining his boxers, but he didn’t care. He craved for a release. Your clit pulsated on his muscular thigh, swollen from your actions as you felt the familiar tight coil in your stomach. Your jaw went slack, the air from your lungs leaving.

“Y/N” your girlfriend moaned as she felt her orgasm close by. You pulled your focus away from Sebastian and leaned in to kiss her. Your tongues fought for dominance but you won as you suckled on her tongue and bit her bottom lip, drawing it out with your teeth. She groaned deeply as her eyebrows furrowed and she felt the familiar tingling sensation on her cunt before crying out.

“Oh yes yes yes, fuck! Mmm” she whimpered and moaned against your lips as you snaked your hand onto her throbbing clit and rubbing it a few times as shocks of electricity hit her core.  

“Ho-holy shit.” Sebastian breathed out as he goggled at the two of you having your intimate moment. He watched as your girlfriend pressed her lips back with yours as he looked down at your bare pussies and saw how swollen your clits were. He bit down on his plush bottom lip as he took his large hand and lifted your dress high enough to give him the advantage to rub gentle circles on your clit and on your girlfriends.

“Fuck, Sebastian. Keep rubbing my clit, oh fuck, yes!” his name tasted like sweet honey as it ran off your tongue.

“Oh my god” her eyes rolled back as her clit became overstimulated. Both of your minds became hazy, clouded with euphoria as your orgasmed, moaning out loud.

“O-oh yes! Ah, pl-please don’t stop, don’t stop” you chanted that until you came and squirted on Sebastian’s’ thigh, leaving a stain of your sweet juices on his jeans.

Your girlfriend stared at you with wide eyes, seeing that you squirted on Sebastian, muttering holy shit under her breath. She grabbed your chin and pulled you in to devour your luscious lips as you came down from your high. You forgot you were rubbing his hard on with your knee when Sebastian felt his girth throb and release cum “O-oh shiiiiit” he hissed as his cock shot thick white cum in his jeans.

You and your girlfriend pulled away instantly to look down at Sebastian whose face was scrunched up and red. His jaw went slack as he let out short breaths, jutting his hips forward as he emptied his cock of his cum. You looked down and saw it twitch in his jeans, making you blush a deep red.

Hearing a snort, you turned your head to see your girlfriend muffling her giggles as she realized what just happened. You bit your lip, bruising the tender flesh and lightly grazed your hand over his crotch. Sebastian shivered and whined as you smirked.

“Looks like someone enjoyed the show more than we did, huh?”

He fluttered his eyes open and chuckled “S-sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You two are… very vocal” He smirked, darting his tongue out and you giggled.

“As much as we make the perfect sounds… we’re great at cleaning up too” you purr before looking down at his cock. Sebastian swallows thickly, feeling his it hardened again before breathing out,

Oh god

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[that-fandom-tho]

It Takes Two (Hayes Grier)

Request: Can u please do this Hayes Grier imagine make it where reader is a hip hop dancer has to dance with another guy and Hayes get jealous and walks away and the guy tries to kiss her and Hayes saves her etc. you come up with the rest

“It’s okay. If you have things to do today, you can leave,” I say, even tough I really do want him to stay.

Hayes tightens his arms around my waist. “I’m not going anywhere. I know you like having someone there to watch you.”

He knows me so well. As a kid my parents never watched my dance recitals. My mom would stay outside on the phone and my dad wouldn’t even bother coming. I didn’t know how much more nerve-wracking but also how much more comforting it was to have someone there supporting you. The first time Hayes came my heart raced more than it had during my first ever recital. But looking out and seeing his smiling proud face as I did my thing made me feel more proud and confident in myself than ever before.

Since then I’ve grown, moving into styles other than ballet. I’ve been practicing contemporary and hip hop for a few years now. Tonight’s my first partner dance at an exhibition, and I’m not quite sure how Hayes is going to feel about it. It’s a little risqué, but I love doing it. He gets jealous easily and hasn’t seen any practices so tonight’s when I find out his reaction.

“Hey babe?” I call out, lifting my head from his shoulder.

“Yeah?”
 “Promise me you won’t get jealous when you watch, okay?”

“Why would I get jealous? I mean you’re only performing with the guy you’ve been spending hours a day with for months instead of being with me. Nah, no biggie.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I say, giving him a knowing look. “Promise me you’ll be okay with this.”

“Of course I will. If anything I’m even more happy that you don’t have to see this guy after this.” I just glare at him. “Okay, okay, I promise.”

He leans down to kiss me but I stop him. “You’ll get my lipstick all over your face.”

“I don’t care,” he says with a hand already on my cheek bringing my face to his.

After kissing me firmly he pulls away with a mouth nearly as red as mine. I laugh.

“Go wipe your mouth. I have to reapply then go on soon. I’ll see you out there okay?”

“Okay, baby. I’d wish you good luck but we both know you don’t need it.”

“We go on in 5,” Lucas, my dance partner says. I can hear the people in the crowd already, getting ready for the performance.

After making a quick stop to a room in the back for my lipstick, I return to the area just behind the stage and Luke and I stretch and warm up.

“You nervous?” He asks.

As a kid what I always told myself before a recital was that if I messed up, I never had to see the people in the audience again. And they’d probably forget about it by the time they got home. Now I’ve garnered notability in the dance community here in LA and there are plenty of cameras to remember my mess ups.

“Not really” I reply, taking a deep breath.

He rests a hand on my back, a little low for my comfort. It doesn’t help that the top I’m wearing a tight crop top and low rise skinny jeans, meaning he’s touching my bare back. He does those types of things all the time though. I don’t think anything of it, he’s just more touchy than what I’m used to.

We walk onto the stage to an outburst of applause as the announcer exits. I almost immediately spot Hayes, who smiles and gives me a thumbs.

The dance is to a remix of Despacito by Luis Fonso and Daddy Yankee. It’s a lot of body rolling really, since the footwork couldn’t be complicated due to me wearing heels. Luke on the other hand kind of plays the role of my love interest, doing a lot of looking at my body and running his hands up and down it. Together it’s sort of a cat and mouse thing, us chasing each other while influenced by dances like the tango and merengue.

Towards the end, Luke spins me, and I look into the crowd to see Hayes gone. Oh no. I knew this would happen. Every time he gets jealous, if he can’t act overly possessive he just storms off. I finish the dance mistake free but Luke can tell I’m a bit put off. He promised me. He could’ve at least stayed. The crowd bursts with applause as we stand there breathless. Luke puts an arm around my waist and we wave to the crowd, bowing.

At the end of exhibitions, all of the dancers for that night come out and just hang out with the crowd, take pictures, things like that. We were last so everyone comes out as we finish, heading down the steps leading to the crowd.

I want so badly to try to find Hayes but I know there are people who came specifically to meet me and I’d hate to disappear on them. I stay for about half an hour, taking tons of pictures. I eventually walk back to the room with my hands full of flowers, I set them down to gather my stuff.

Luke follows in soon after. “I didn’t really get a chance to say afterwards, but you did good tonight.”

I finish packing my bag as he speaks. “Thanks, right back at you.”

“You know, we make a good team,” he says, coming closer to me. “We should do this again soon.”

I admit, I do think we did really well, but he makes Hayes so tense, and it feels weird being this close to a guy who isn’t my boyfriend. I mean he’s touched parts of me today that Hayes didn’t touch until we’d been dating for months.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say anyway.

“You wanna head out for a couple drinks?” He asks, barely a foot away now.

“Actually I need to find my boyfriend so we can head home,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

“Are you really happy with him?” he asks, grabbing onto my waist tightly.

“Yes.” I say, teeth gritted. “Could you please let go of me now?”

He lowers his face until it’s inches from mine. “Is that really what you want sweetheart? I bet I could treat you better than he ever will.”

“Let go of me!” I say firmly. “I’m not interested.” I push on his chest but he barely moves.

“I feel the way you respond to me, don’t lie,” he lowers his lips and I turn my head to the side, ready to kick his ass.

“Hey!” Luke turns to see Hayes in the doorway, storming towards us.

I take the moment of distraction to step on his foot as hard as I can, push him further away from me, punch him in the gut, and push him into the counter next to us.

As he lies trying to recover, Hayes grabs him by the collar and holds him up. “Do not ever put your hands anywhere near my girlfriend again, or the next time it won’t be her kicking your ass, and you’ll be more than a little bruised up. Got it?”

“Okay, man, I get it, I get it.”

Hayes releases him and he falls to the floor. I feel a little guilty, but not enough to stop myself from stepping over him and moving on with my life.

As soon as we’re out of the room Hayes pulls me into his arms tightly. “Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

I push him away and walk off, knowing he’s following me. “You left.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he explains. “I just got so worked up, I couldn’t anymore. I hated seeing his hands on you. I know you don’t like it when I get possessive of you but you’re mine. It hurts seeing you with someone else like that.”

“Hayes you’re my rock. You’re the one I look to in the crowd every time I’m up there. You’re the one there for me when no one else is.”

We reach the car, and instead of opening my door he pulls me back into his arms. “And I’ll never leave again. None of that back there would’ve happened had I just stayed with you, instead of getting jealous and running off.”

“You know I’m yours. Even though I hate when you announce it to the world, I love you and no one else will ever be able to take the place you have, okay? And I’m fine, everything’s alright. I could’ve handled Luke myself if I needed to.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. I’m here for you, you know that right? I wanna be your knight in shining armor.”

“You already are,” I say, rising up to my tip toes to peck his lips.

Masterlist

Prompt List - to be updated

Song Prompt List

—— A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. And thanks to the requester, this was kinda fun to write. I know you wanted Hayes to save her, but I had to fit in a little girl power, can’t help myself. I really do hope you like it though. As for my other imagines, I have another Hayes imagine to do, then like 4 Shawn imagines, which I’m hyped for because I love him but somehow haven’t written any imagines for him. So if you’re a Shawn fan you’re in luck. If not, I’ll probably post little blurbs, imagines etc. in between. Either way, there’ll probably be a lot of imagines coming out within these next few weeks because I start a job at the end of the month and who knows how that’ll effect the rate at which I upload, but I want to get my requests out before that begins.

Peace, that-fandom-tho.