#I love my baby cousins SO DARN MUCH

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Dang.

Resurrection day and cc!Tommy’s birthday and a good writing day and getting to spend time with baby cousins?? All on the same day???

[withacapitalp]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Daisies (Steddie)

Summary: He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. When Steve wakes up choking on flowers, Eddie thinks that it might be the end. It turns out to be just the beginning.

I love Daisies so much and the response it got was wayyyy more than I ever could have expected!!! A hanahaki AU that it's a little non-traditional and one of my all time faves I've written!!!

2. Princess (Steddie, Steve and Chrissy)

Summary: “You knew Chrissy” Eddie managed to force out, feeling like he was about to vomit. Steve nodded, still looking at the picture. Chrissy’s little face was overtaken by an absolutely enormous grin, and her right hand was tightly grabbing onto Steve’s free left one.  “Who do you think gave her her title?” He asked rhetorically, side-eyeing Eddie to gauge his reaction. When Eddie didn’t give one, Steve sighed, stepping away, “People always get that story wrong though,” Eddie wakes up alone, goes downstairs, and finds out things he wasn't ready to know.

Princesssssssss. Augh this one hurts me every time I read it and it's one of my top favorite head canons. I think Steve and Chrissy being cousins hits a chord that is just so perfect? This little detail that doesn't actually exist to anyone but me is so canon to me now haha!

3. Let Me Just Hold You Now (Stolen)

Summary: Steve has a routine for nights like this. A routine for the times when his world gets flipped on its axis. Just four simple steps to keep his body alive while his mind tries to sort through whatever fucked up thing he just went through.  Steve has a Routine.  Robin breaks that Routine.

THIS FIC MAN. I really hit a stride with Stolen fics that just felt soooooo yeah I really loved writing this one and that's not something I can usually say!!

4. The Day After (Stoncy)

Summary: The morning after Steve helps to destroy a demon who had been trying to kill Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler, he goes to school. He didn't want to go. He didn't know why he did it. He just went. It was startling to see how the rest of the world didn't change.

Agh! So I have a mixed relationship with this series but I had to include a stoncy fic in this list and this one was the one that really started it all. The first long fic I finished, the first one I felt really proud of, and the fic that really started my love for stranger things. Yeah I'm proud of this one.

5. How to Rehabilitate a Jock (Eventual Steddie WIP)

Summary: After their breakup, Steve found that being around Nancy and Jonathan was pretty much unbearable. His old friends wouldn't even look at him, and there was only so much time he could spend with the kids before he started feeling kind of pathetic. All in all, he was a pretty lonely person now. But was he really lonely enough to consider joining Hellfire club? And were they really willing to accept having a dethroned king in their party? A post season two AU where Steve becomes a part of hellfire club

This one is probably my baby and will be for at least the rest of the year. She gives me so much trouble but I love her so gosh darn much!!!!! Anyways it's my most popular story, it feels like a lot of pressure, but I love it.

TY MORGAN THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN AND IM SO GRATEFUL YOU SENT THISSSS

[flondonfailures]

Intro Post

Hiya so like every FL player I'm very unhinged about my characters so here's a little break down on who they actually are!

Citizen Zed aka the disgraced socialite (they/them)

Zed is my second fl character. They came down to the neath after getting into a touch too much fun (aka trouble) on the surface. They were drawn in by the many outrageous stories about London that featured in the letters from their older cousin, Fire... And of course by the whispers of a legendary diamond!

They are my Light Fingers character and currently a very new posi!

Lady Fire aka the ambitious poet (she/her)

Fire moved down to the Neath years ago in search of adventure and a good time. She quickly fell in love with London (and sure she might have exaggerated how well she was doing in her letters home but that's not important) She's the definition of hedonistic and basically always down to have fun, and fuck around and find out.

Her baby cousin moving to London and quickly doing much better than her was her wake up call to start working towards her goals. She's not completely sure what she's going to wish for when she wins this gosh darn card game but it'll probably be about gaining money and power, after all you need those to fund the indulgent lifestyle she prefers.

Fire is my first FL character from many years ago but I only recently started playing her again. She's my Heart's Desire girl and a more establish posi

The picrew i used is one I saw going around on FL Tumblr awhile ago (I'll find a link for it later)

[sortofanobsession]

Tony the Kid (911 fic)

Author's note: not as long as my usual story but I had fun with it.

Ao3

911 Masterlist

Summary: Buck's work with the livestock animal rescue ends up with him taking care of a goat. A baby goat. A kid if you will. Eddie has opinions but unfortunately Eddie was the one that told him to participate in the poor little creature's rescue. Christopher is very much not on Eddie's side.

Mostly Eddie's side of things.

Pairing: Buck x Eddie (more than friends if you read between the lines). Christopher and his dads.

Eddie tries so hard not to laugh as he takes a video of his best friend. Buck is just standing there talking to another volunteer as a small goat repeatedly bleats and rams its tiny horns into the blond firefighter's leg. Christopher was going to love this video. They were all working at a community event. The animal rescue Buck often worked with after the ducklings incident was there as well. He and Buck had gone over to say hi, and the little petting zoo goat must have recognized Buck because the darn thing was not happy about being ignored. The kids around, at least the human ones, thought it was hilarious. “You look far too serious,” Eddie says as he puts his phone away, and they head back to rejoin the team. “Margo's truck broke down last night, which means the pick-up she was supposed to do tomorrow afternoon isn't going to happen unless someone else can drive.” “And they asked you?” Eddie guesses. “Yeah,” Buck nods. “And that would be fine...usually.” “But you have Christopher tomorrow,” Eddie says. “Already told him he didn't have to help your cousin move,” Buck says. “Take him with you,” Eddie shrugs. “Some of these turnovers can be risky,” Buck says. “I'm sure if you tell him to stay in the truck, he will,” Eddie argues. “He's old enough to see how the world works, Buck. Just put the idea to the rescue team. If not we can see what Hen and Karen have going on. Or your sister.” “Fine,” Buck takes out his phone and texts the rescue team. “That's assuming he even wants to go.” “When has he ever turned down a chance to visit the rescue? He loves those critters almost as much as you do.”

Eddie regretted his suggestions when he got home the following night. He had barely closed the door before he heard a noise that shouldn't be in his house. “Oh hey, you're back,” Buck says. “What did you do?” Eddie asks, his gaze narrowed at his friend. Eddie groans when he sees his son bottle-feeding a tiny goat that is in a tub on the floor. “Dad! Look! It's a baby goat,” Christopher eagerly says. “Why is it in my house?” Eddie asks. “It has a name, Dad,” Christopher tells him. “I’m sure it does,” Eddie’s annoyance was clear in his tone. “It’s Tony,” Christopher elaborates. “Technically, it’s Antony,” Buck states. “Of course it is,” Eddie sighs. “Couldn’t be a normal name, could it?” “They tried Anthony,” Buck says the name quietly, “But for some reason, he tends to bite when you call him that.” “That’s insane!” Eddie responds. He takes the tiny creature from his son. “Hey!” Christopher glares at his dad. “He bites,” Eddie argues. “Goats don’t even have top teeth in the front, Eddie, and it’s a baby.” “Seriously, Buck!” “For the record, you told us to go on the rescue.” “I didn't tell you to bring anything home, Buck,” Eddie hisses. “It's only for a few days, a week maybe.” “A week?!” “Don't worry I will take it home with me,” Buck says. “You live in an apartment,” Eddie states. “And he currently lives in a box,” Buck counters. “Buck!” “I'm serious, it’s not that much different than a normal pet,” Buck assures him. “You say that now,” Eddie shakes his head.

Eddie wasn’t surprised when Buck and Tony the kid shows up at his house a few days later. “What happened now?” Eddie asks as he lets them in, once the door is closed Buck sets Tony down. And Eddie laughs. “Oh look, it has a diaper now.” Eddie can’t believe how ridiculous his life has gotten. “He cries less if he can run around,” Buck says. “I need to ask you a favor.” “No,” Eddie says. “I didn’t even-” “I know you,” Eddie says, arms crossed over his chest. “You can say, ‘I told you so’ all you want. It’s a few days. I’ll even crash here. My neighbors complained and my landlord threatened to throw me out.” “He’s a trip hazard, Buck,” Eddie states. “Christopher-” “You didn’t tell me Buck and Tony were here!” Eddie sighs. “I promise, I will make it up to you, Eddie,” Buck says. Eddie looks between his best friend and his son who was now sitting in the living room with Tony the kid on his lap. Christopher looked so happy to have his little friend back. “A few days, that’s it, and you have to find away to keep him in one room. I’m not taking my son to the emergency room because he tripped on a goat.” “That’s fair, I can do that,” Buck grins. “And its 3 days, tops.”

It was not 3 days. Much to Eddie’s annoyance, Tony the kid was still around. He would be loath to admit it but having Buck around even more than usual wasn’t a bad thing. Sure, their relationships took a bit of a hit. But the goat now had a little pen in the living room when he wasn’t supervised. And after Buck had told Christopher that ‘the goat ate his homework’ was not an acceptable excuse and Buck would definitely not take Christopher with him when he took the goat for his little socialization play dates if his grades dropped. Eddie would admit the threat was shockingly effective. And the play dates were more like barn yard time with the other goats used to raise money with a local yoga studio that did goat yoga. Eddie didn’t understand the appeal but it meant the goat learned how to be a goat or ended up with his little friends at a farm, Eddie was happy to help out. He just hoped the thing would be out of his house soon.

Eddie walks into his home and hears a squeal of laughter from his living room. He smiles. “Need a hand?” Buck says as he meets Eddie in the hall and takes the pizza box from the home owner. “Jee-Yun sounds like she is having fun,” Eddie says as they head into the kitchen. “Oh yeah. I think Tony has met his match energy-wise,” Buck grins. “Well, I’m glad she’s having fun. I guess having a little baby friend, even of a different species, makes new places easier,” Eddie states as he grabs plates and hands them to Buck. He grabs a tiny plate and a breadstick from the box and with a well-rehearsed dad move cuts it into tiny toddler-sized pieces and plates them. He grabs a few other food that had been sent by Chimney and Maddie had sent for her to eat. Buck failed to suppress a grin at how at ease Eddie was. Buck had definitely thrown his best friend’s life for a loop last week by showing up with a goat. He hadn’t batted an eye when Buck told him he also had to watch Jee-Yun for the weekend while Maddie and Chim were out of town for the weekend for a party for one of Maddie’s coworkers. The Diaz house was busy for the weekend. Buck was going to have to do something really big to thank Eddie for all the help.

Buck sits back and wonders how his life has him to a moment like this. He smiles as Christopher helps feed Jee-Yun. It’s really more Christopher convincing the tot to finish her dinner since the others had finished eating at least 20 minutes ago. And it’s an adorable moment, made even more precious by the fact Eddie was absentmindedly petting the tiny goat sitting in his lap as he watched the kids. Buck thinks his heart might actually explode. He manages to snap a few pictures.

“I hate to admit it,” Eddie says. “I think I’m going to miss that little guy.” They watch Tony run around with his new family. A farmer who often partners with the rescue was able to give the growing goat a more appropriate home. “Me too,” Buck says. “Dad, look!” Christopher shouts. They both turn to see Christopher in a barn. Eddie sighed when he realized what his son had found. “Aren’t they cute?” Christopher says as one of the puppies jumps against the short barrier to play. They looked to be some kind of terrier mix. “Well, at least they don’t wear diapers,” Buck grins.

[heathernyb]

I read a post by one of my favorite follows on IG tonight , Mallory Ervin , and felt inspired to journal our love story too . You scroll Instagram and everyone seems to have these perfect sparkly love stories and I’m guilty of posting just the oh sooo good too . But our story hasn’t always been easy .

12 years ago I found myself sitting on the floor of my shower with tears streaming down my face begging God to show me where I was supposed to be . Single mom of 2 kids , no college degree , multiple failed relationships , no career , and honestly completely lost in every sense . I didn’t know who I was anymore . I had made horrible choices and I was at rock bottom as the result of those poor choices . I will never ever forget that day because I literally gave God every single ounce of myself . I left a relationship I knew I never even wanted to be in in the first place, I focused on my kids , spent more time with family , and within 2 weeks of that day on a Sunday afternoon my cousin came into my aunt and uncles house and told me she had just passed Eric on the road . She had me look him up on Facebook (I thought he was cute) so I finally got up the courage to send him a message . He had no idea who I was but my cousin had said he was single and just moved to Sheridan so he might be a good person to hang out with in my free time . He said sure , he loved friends , but didn’t want a relationship . He asked me to hang out and I pretended I was busy . Eventually we did hang out and became fast friends , even started dating a few months later . He also tried to break up with me but we got back together . 6 months later engaged , and a year later married . You know what though ? Marriage didn’t come easy for us in those early years . I still had a lot of shit I needed to deal with and I thought Eric was supposed to save me . It was a lot of pressure on him , not to mention he went from a bachelor to instant family of 4 pretty darn quickly . We had a LOT of growing pains . I’m pretty sure we even threw the D word around a time or 2 ! We stuck it out and a few years went by and I was ready for a baby . My husband said we weren’t . I was heart broken and again made some horrible choices . Through our pain we still chose each other along with a therapist and finally worked through our shit . Today we will tell you - had we not gone through that , we wouldn’t be as strong as we are today . We’ve now had 2 more babies and have a marriage that is healthy , happy , and full of love . We’ve learned to respect each other , listen to each other , work as a team , support each other , have each others backs , and we never ever say the D word even on the really hard days . I always say our love isn’t perfect but it’s soooo good because it is . But that good good love didn’t come without a lot of bumps and challenges . I’m just so thankful we never gave up.

I tell Eric all the time I hope things never change because I love him so much. Some days I’m not sure how I ended up with such a dang good guy but all I can say is it was Gods doing . It’s the only thing that makes sense . I was a hot mess so he knew I needed someone who had their shit together . Tonight I asked him to promise me he will never stop loving me like this + he promised me and I know his promises stay true . I guess my whole point of this is 1. God is good so trust Him and 2. Don’t give up on love because it might just find you after you pick yourself up off the bathroom floor and wipe the tears running down your face . I never in my wildest dreams thought I would have this life I’m blessed to have but here I am . Truly happy and more in love than ever . 💛

[pr]

the daily duality of how much i absolutely adore children vs how much i never want to be a parent is crazy

[jimilter]

cyanide on my bedsheets (m) | k.nj.

pairing:  kim namjoon x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  smut | angst | fwb!au 

summary:  You didn’t voluntarily choose to have feelings for your best friend of over a decade. But you did voluntarily choose to fall in bed with him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. And now, every encounter with him is just another push at the knife he has permanently lodged in your heart.

warnings:  swearing + unrequited love + dom!joon + sub!reader + explicit sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, f&m oral, spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight manhandling, creampie) + careless aftercare + unhappy ending

word count:  8 k

submission for the July Games hosted by House Taeros.

❂ “To The Lighthouse”           ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere 

⤐  AU Type: Ships in the Night - Unrequited Love ⤐  Themes: Secret Relationship | Slice of Life ⤐  Kinks: Clit Biting, Spanking, Face Fucking, Pain Kink, Size Kink, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Degradation.

note:  my first submission for the network!!! this was supposed to be a drabble and then the word count ran away from me, smh, but what’s new? this is an ANGSTY baby, y’all! 😩 — firstly, a HUGE THANKS to @getmemyfries noor bby for being my constant hype girl, listening to me rant about the angst and yell about joon’s sexiness and helping me with every darn thing she could possibly help me with. 🥺💕 — another big AF thank to @hisunshiine vanessa for giving me such amazing clues and pointers for the name of the fic! 😭❤ — and finally, the biggest one yet - @bangtanhome​ MOON, MY LOVE!!! thank you so so SO much for reading this through and boosting my limping confidence! you’re really so freakin’ precious for looking it over so quickly and so expertly and helping me brush it up! 🥺😭💕 also, the title’s a play on lyrics from frank ocean’s “bad religion” that nessa recommended me to look into!

spotify playlist here ❤

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

You are pushed against the wall the second you step into the house.

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake—”

“You’re insane for thinking you still get to talk to me like this after all that show.”

The ‘all that show’ happens to be you laughing a bit too loud at Namjoon’s cousin when he made his lame jokes at the party you two are just returning from.

Ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine at his warning, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s insane for thinking you’d just bend over for him after all the knowledge you’ve acquired tonight.

“Must I remind you it was your parents that introduced me to him,” you snap, letting your true feelings show. “Something tells me you could’ve stopped them, Joon.”

After nearly a year of you rolling in bed with him, Namjoon’s parents still had zero clue of the status you held in his life. Now, you didn’t expect him to profess his undying love and ask his parents to fix your wedding or something, but cluing them in even a little bit would have been appreciated. You’d at least told your mom that you slept with your best friend, if not the ensuing emotional turmoil you were subjected to. She was very worried about your dynamics initially, but when the two of you acted seemingly normal around each other when you two went to your hometown for Christmas, she got off your case.

But Namjoon’s mom and dad were still under the impression that his son had a sister-like best friend in the form of you. Talk about feeling humiliated.

And tonight, his mom proposed her sister’s son, Seok-something, as a prospective partner to you because you’ve been single for a long time. All the while, Namjoon stood there, in between his mom and his cousin, and didn’t utter a single word of protest as she basically forced you into Seok-something’s arms. Namjoon didn’t even look at you, not once.

It hurt like a bitch.

Looking at the whole picture, now, you should be the angry one. And you were. You blew some steam off by interacting a bit too much with Seok-something, and relishing the covert death glares you spotted Namjoon throwing your way over his cousin’s shoulder.

Eventually, though, you were too tired on your pencil heels and too emotionally drained to socialise anymore, and decided to leave the party. Namjoon had followed you to your car, not saying a single word as he slid into the passenger’s seat. He kept shut the entire way to your duplex, too, head turned away to look out the window. 

You thought he was probably pissed and tired like you and needed to get out of the party, even if it was his own grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary gala. You two were childhood best friends before anything else, after all.

But now, looking at him, you realise he is more than pissed. He’s furious. And for some reason, he doesn’t look all that tired, either.

“And unhand me, I need to take off these death traps.” 

You push at him and he grudgingly steps away, jaw set as he turns away to lock the door. 

You walk into your coat closet and sit on your haunches to take off your heels. It’s slightly difficult with the form fitted slip dress you wear, but you manage.

You haven’t missed how he hasn't responded to your jab about him being able to stop his parents. You believe it is because he doesn’t actually have anything to say to it — he hasn’t told his parents because there isn’t anything worth telling them about. And even if you put aside the fact the feeling is most certainly not mutual on this front, it still stings for multiple other reasons, too.

Isn’t this behavior disrespectful to the friendship you two have shared for all these years? You told your mother because you felt so. The same cannot be said for Namjoon, apparently.

You walk out of the coat closet, sighing in relief when your bare feet flatten against the cold marble floor. Namjoon is leaning against the kitchen counter, suit jacket and tie off, the top button of his navy shirt undone and the rest straining against his buff chest. His hands are tucked in his grey slacks as he crosses one foot over the other. His short hair is dyed a gorgeous shade of grey and a few strands brush the top of his brow when he looks away from his feet to focus his eyes on you.

He looks too fucking hot to handle, and you feel weakness seep into your knees. 

Trying to put on a brave face, you ignore the heat of his gaze and walk into the kitchen. His shoulders look even bigger from behind — bulkier, rounder and broader than you’ve seen them last.

“Want something to drink?” you ask in a mumble, opening the fridge to get yourself a drink of water.

He doesn’t say anything, just very quietly turns in his place to face you. You hold his stare for a few seconds as you shut the fridge. But then it gets too intense and you have to look down at the bottle in your hands.

“Joon, I—”

“My parents want Seokjin hyung to court you.” 

Ah, so that was his name — Seokjin. “I figured as much.”

Namjoon looks at the kitchen counter between the two of you. “They think you two would be a good match.”

He looks dejected and you are irritated by the audacity. You felt like shit the whole night because Namjoon hid the gritty details of your dynamics with him from his parents, making you feel like he’s ashamed of you. He is in the wrong, here. Why does he get to sulk, too?

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe we would be, who knows.”

You don’t mean much by the comment, tossing it mostly off-handedly to prompt Namjoon to keep talking. But Namjoon doesn't take it so off-handedly.

His eyes flash with a warning, jaw tightening.

In all honesty, it should turn you off, make you walk away from whatever this toxicity between the two of you is. But you’ve always been a weak bitch when it comes to him.

“He won’t last one night with you.” His words rumble low in his throat, absolute certainty spilling off each syllable.

Shit. You squeeze your thighs together.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with himself, much less you. He’d be shredded to pieces before you’re even wet, babygirl. You know that.”

You look away from the challenging glint in his eyes, nerve endings tingling at the pet name. You know it to your bones that he is right in his claims. And not just in the context of Seokjin, either. The way Namjoon takes command of you in bed has ruined you for all the men in the world.

But the brat in you doesn’t want to accept that reality.

You walk up to the kitchen counter and brace your hands on it. Leaning in, you raise a taunting brow at Namjoon. “What if I enjoy it? What if I like shredding him to pieces for me?”

It’s all bullshit, but the surprise that washes over Namjoon’s face satisfies you beyond explanation. 

He scoffs at you, the next second. “You happen to be the biggest sub in the whole world, babygirl. Are you really going to stand there, lying to my face?”

Your breath hitches. Did you take this too far?

Namjoon’s lips curve in a sardonic smile. A hand moves towards you and plucks the water bottle from your hands. 

“Joon…”

At his sharp glare, you bite your tongue.

His hand closes over your wrist, squeezing hard.

“Is that what you are supposed to call me?” 

“I — I…” You mean to scold him for pulling his dom voice on you when you’re trying to be mad at him, but words fail you.

You don’t know what is suddenly wrong with you. You hate it when your mind gets like this. Namjoon doesn’t seem to appreciate it much either, but for a wholly different reason.

Fury seeps into his gaze and he snaps his hand sideways, pulling you around the counter like a ragdoll.

“Have you forgotten how to properly use this slutty, little mouth of yours?” he hisses, empty hand coming up to clutch at your face, thumb and fingers digging into both sides of your jaw.

You gasp in pain, jaw dropping open. Namjoon grits his teeth, pressing harder until you groan in pain.

“Or is it only good enough to stuff my dick into?”

You shiver, knees buckling, ready to meet the floor and do exactly what Namjoon just mocked you about.

“No!” he snaps, tugging your arm upwards to straighten your folding knees. “Desperate, spoilt little girls don’t get to suck me.”

Your eyes swim up to his. He doesn’t look mad this time. No, his gaze has taken upon a calm severance which actually scares you more than the anger. Or excites you, if the wetness collecting between your thighs is anything to go by.

“This, off,” he commands, leaving your face and twisting a finger in the strap of your dress. "On the couch with you. Face down, ass up. You know the drill.”

Your breathing is stuttering out of you in little gasps. Just as you move to follow his command, eyes trained at your feet, Namjoon grasps your chin to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. You blink, slightly unnerved by his blank stare.

“What’s your safe word?”

You swallow. “Ruby,” you husk out.

 “Louder!” he snaps, and you jump.

“R–ruby.”

“Again, without stuttering.”

“Ruby.”

“Good. And what do you call me?”

You swallow again. “Sir.”

"Good. Now move along.”

You’re out of your dress in record time, scampering to bend over the couch with your knees pressed to the seat and forehead resting over its back, under a minute.

“No bra?” Namjoon taunts, clicking his tongue. 

You feel the heat of his body before you hear his breathing over your back. He presses a kiss at the base of your neck, taking you by surprise. He laughs at your little gasp.

“You’re wearing my favorite thong,” he clarifies.

His palm smoothes over your ass, fingers digging into your flesh. You try to regulate your breathing. No reason to get so worked up, so early in the night.

“Did you really plan to fuck him?”

Your eyes snap open at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his voice. But you quickly stomp out the sudden bloom of hope in your heart. This has happened far too many times for it to mean anything, you tell yourself.

Or, at least, you try to. 

“No, sir,” you respond honestly.

He breathes out in what sounds an awful lot like relief. But again, it might be a figment of your wishful thinking.

“Are you lying?”

“No, sir. I would never lie to you.”

You hold your breath when he doesn’t respond. And then he gives a loud, sardonic chuckle. 

“Now that is a lie in itself, babygirl. Or have you forgotten about your silly, little claim from minutes ago?”

You want to defend yourself, but you don't really have much of a defence to present. You said that to make Namjoon jealous, plain and simple. And it most definitely worked, given the position you two are in, right now. But telling him any of that is asking for a punishment worse than the one he is about to deliver, right now.

“I—I’m sorry, sir.”

“So, you admit you lied?” he hums.

His hand comes down to land across your ass in a loud thwack. A yelp stumbles out of your mouth, body lurching forward, ass stinging. Your cheeks heat up in humiliation the way they always do in such situations.

You breathe out.

And then a different kind of heat takes over. Your pulse kicks up and blood thrums pleasantly in your veins, You stuff your face further into the couch cushion, biting down on your lip.

"Look at you trembling." Namjoon scoffs. "What an absolute slut. Can't even punish her properly because she enjoys it."

You clench your teeth against his words, but he isn't actually wrong, is he?

Another slap lands on your other buttcheek. You are pushed into the couch, knees chafe a bit from the abrasion from the rough fabric of the seat cover.

But your body is singing with pleasure. 

"The way you were pushing this pretty, little ass into him." Namjoon's words are muffled by his gritted teeth. "Wanted to do this right there, in front of him."

A high pitched keen leaves you on the next slap.

"Wonder what he'd say if he could see you now, huh. Pretty ass all red and in the air for me. Only me."

He suddenly grabs your ass in his large palms, squeezing your smarting skin, causing more hurt than comfort. But you believe that that is his purpose.

He pulls one hand off to bring it back down with another resounding smack. And then alternates between both hands, delivering loud, hard slaps onto your buttcheeks and then massaging your stinging skin harshly enough for it to hurt more.

"Who does this ass belong to, babygirl?"

You're nearly sobbing, already lost count of the spanks he's delivered you. You're grateful he didn't make you count, or you'd be screwed.

"Y–you, sir," you breathily stammer. "Ju–just you."

"That's right. And so does this pussy."

Your thong is pulled to a side, cool air hitting your wet pussy before warm air replaces it. Your breath hitches.

Is he…?

Namjoon's lips meet your heated center in a loud slurp, tongue slipping into you. You shriek a garbled curse, half in surprise and half from the sudden onslaught of sensations.

But then he is gone.

"Wha…?" 

You deliriously try to look over your shoulder.

And then you freeze. 

You are not supposed to look at him when he's punishing you. His instructions have always been clear. But in your confused, horny state, you promptly forgot.

Namjoon is looking straight at you, and his eyebrow ticks up when your eyes meet. His lips form a smirk.

"You really fucking love getting your ass spanked don't you, my little slut?"

You do, without a single doubt. But you didn't intentionally try to riot, this one time. You quietly bring your face back in to press against the cushion.

"I'm sorry, sir," you mumble into it.

"You will be, baby."

And then Namjoon's hand delivers a slap directly between your thighs.

You scream, head craning back and back arching as the sting travels through your pussy to spread like hot molten pleasure all over your body.

"Fuck, look at that," Namjoon growls, two fingers moving to press against your clit. "You're creaming my hand, baby. You loved that, didn't you?"

You can only whimper in response, arching your ass towards him for increased friction.

"So fucking filthy. And you thought that prissy, uptight, son of a bitch could handle you?"

You never did. Not for a single second.

You suddenly decide to come clean.

"No."

Namjoon's stills. "What?"

"I never thought that," you speak into the cushion, your voice slightly hoarse but still perfectly coherent. "Just – just said that to rile you up." You pause. Exhale. And then add, "sir."

Namjoon's intake of breath is crisp between the two of you.

"We'll, consider me riled the fuck up, baby."

A thick arm wraps around your waist to lift you up and toss you on the couch on your back. You blink up at the huge man crowding over you, skin heating up at the sight of his broad torso over your tiny one.

Namjoon could snap you in half with bare minimum effort. The thought probably shouldn't tighten your core with arousal the way it does.

"You really are something else, aren't you?" he mumbles before leaning over you to press his lips onto yours.

You kiss him back with equal fervor, hands tangling up into his hair and legs wrapping around his waist. His length digs into your thigh. Your mouth waters with the need to have him on your tongue.

You pull away from his kiss. "Please," you breathe, eyes travelling down his body to land on his crotch. "I'll be good, sir. Please."

"You think I haven't heard that one before?" Namjoon sneers at you. "You promise me right about anything like a cock hungry slut. But then you go back on your word."

You're too far gone to feel humiliated at his words, especially given the fact that they ring with absolute truth. 

"Prove to me that you really can be good at keeping promises and following instructions. Then maybe…" He pauses, squinting at you. "Maybe I'll fuck your face."

You nod, eyes journeying to and fro between his intimidating stare and the bulge in his pants. "Ye–yes, sir."

"Good."

With that, Namjoon stands up straight and starts to unbutton his shirt. Every deft movement of his fingers uncovers more of his chest, pectoral muscles firm and swollen. You could probably fit both your hands on one. His abdomen is tight, cut and looks so solid. The shirt is pushed past his shoulders, and your gaze clings to his arms.

You breathe through your mouth, teeth mashing together with the effort of keeping yourself from panting like a bitch in heat. 

He seems to keep growing bigger and bulkier everytime you see him. You couldn’t wrap both your hands around his biceps and make them touch. Not to even get started on his hefty shoulders that make him nearly twice as broad as you. He's a lot massive and it gets you a lot wet.

You’re still gawking when he grabs your thighs and pushes them back towards your chest.

“Hold them here. And do not,” he warns, kneeling on the floor between your legs, “move.”

You shakily nod, gathering your wits and voice. “Yes, sir.”

His arms are nearly as thick as your thighs when he braces them on the seat of the couch. You pull your lip into your mouth to bite back a moan at the sight. 

“You do not come unless I tell you you can. I do not want to beat your gorgeous little pussy up, but if you really prompt me…” His jaw locks. “I will.”

Heat rushes through your body, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head with the memory of the slap he’d just delivered there. Your insides contract in anticipation.

“Do you understand?”

Words fail you for a few seconds, the thought of getting your pussy slapped by his large, shapely hands filling your head with endless images. A small moan is torn out of your throat.

Namjoon clicks his tongue, and the heavy disappointment in that little sound snaps your attention back to him.

“I — I understand, sir. S–sorry, sir.”

“Losing your mind over getting your pussy slapped?” He gives a rumbling chuckle. “My little slut.”

Your underwear having already been tugged aside, Namjoon dives right in without preamble.

A loud shriek escapes you when he encases your clit in his mouth with the first lick. His tongue laves all over your slit, drawing circles at your entrance without actually penetrating you, and you tremble in want. Before you can collect your bearings, his tongue reaches up to draw similar circles over your clit and you cry out.

The sensations build on too strong too quickly, and heat pools dangerously in the pit of your stomach. You really want to twist yourself away from his face because your orgasm is closing in on you and you have strict instructions to not come. But you also wanna thrash against his face to get there quicker, because the punishment Namjoon has declared is sounding a lot like a reward.

You end up doing neither when you recall how he also instructed you to not move.

“S—sir,” you brokenly whisper, fingers digging into the undersides of your knees to keep yourself open and spread.

He grunts into you, delivering a slap onto your ass. You gulp, clenching your eyes as tight as you have your teeth. His tongue leaves your clit, traversing back towards your entrance to dip into you in small, kitten licks.

“Ah—fuck, oh my God,” you sob, twisting your head to press it against the back of the couch.

You want to be a menace and come all over his mouth, just to relish the look of anger on his face when he delivers you your pleasurable punishment. But you also really want to please him by being just as obedient as he wants you to be.

The brat in you admits that the attitude you gave him tonight was too harsh of a rebuttal for him keeping things from his parents. He probably didn’t deem it too deep, because afterall, who talks to one’s parents about fuck buddies? It’s on you that you haven’t told him how deep this shit runs on your end.

Your spiralling thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind when Namjoon hums against your cunt, sending a fresh layer of electricity through your body.

You control your breathing, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through your mouth. You can do this — you just need to detach yourself from these thrums of arousal pulsing through you, every single one originating from your core. You try to take your mind off the feeling, try to think of anything other than the coil tightening in your stomach, Namjoon’s head of silver hair moving between your legs, his broad, broad bare back rippling with muscles with each movement, his enormous arms’ ability to fold you in half and—

“Holy fuck!” you screech, your unhelpful train of thoughts cut off.

He has closed his teeth over your clit and is massaging the nub with the flat of his blunt, front teeth. Your hips nearly buck before you dig your nails firmly into your legs and hold them back.

The pressure isn’t harsh enough to hurt, but it sure as hell is strong enough to bypass pleasurable stimulation. 

Entire body quivering, you lift your head up to peek down at him, gasping with your whole chest when you find his gaze trained on you. You try to maintain eye contact, but all your senses are failing you because you’re trying your damnedest hard to just not fucking explode. 

Through your fluttering eyes, you spot him raising a mocking eyebrow up at you. 

Oh, God, what the fuck is he so hot for?

You resolutely shut your eyes tighter, whining at your slipping control. 

“Sir, please,” you whimper. “I — I can’t…”

Namjoon releases your clit with a pop.

“What the—ah!” 

Blood supply abruptly restored, your clit is suddenly even more sensitive than before. If Namjoon so much as breathed over it, you’ll come. All your hardwork about to go to waste, you struggle to orient your brain. 

Namjoon retracts his tongue from you, though, and you’re left stunned when he hums satisfactorily.

You blink up at him with delirious eyes, tentatively loosening your grip on your legs. He smiles at you so big, his dimples flash.

And it’s ridiculous, how your heart brims with affection at the sight of him. He’s all sweaty with hair matted to his forehead, chin glistening with your arousal, lips darkened by working you up — and then there’s that cute freaking smile of his which should be terribly out of place in all of this, but actually isn’t.

But then, maybe it isn’t ridiculous at all.

“What a good girl,” he whispers in his raspy voice, his smile unwavering. “You did so well, babygirl. Time for reward.”

Your chest swells with pride and happiness — and that one emotion that you’d very much rather not feel at all but cannot help — and you grin at him in all your dishevelled state. He licks at his lower lip, giving you a small nod, smile melting into a smouldering look when he brings his large hands to yours and unlocks them from beneath your knees.

“Come on, baby.” 

He sits you up on the couch, and you belatedly realise how you’re not even mad he didn’t let you come because of how much you’ve pleased him by being a good girl for him. Because you know he will grant you all the sweetest of releases if you do as he says. He always has.

What the hell were you thinking, challenging him like that earlier? You could never even imagine any other way you would attain the kind of completion you do with Namjoon.

You kneel on the soft cushion of the sofa, sitting back on your calves. Your eyes dart up to his, seeking unspoken permission.

He looks at you from under hooded eyes and nods once.

You reach forth with your eager hands, unbuckling his belt, before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Your insides have been coiling ever since he grabbed your wrist in the kitchen, you do not have enough patience to properly undress him. You push his pants down, scrunching them over his burly thighs before tugging at the waistband of his boxers and pulling the cotton fabric down the same way.

He is fully hard and leaking, almost beckoning you closer with the drop of precum over his slit. 

You open your mouth, tongue hanging out as far as you can extend it. Then you entwine your fingers and put them in your lap, and look up at him with big, wide eyes. Like always.

Namjoon looks so fucking tantalising, standing tall, broad and manly over you, ready to ruin you with his thick cock that hangs inches from your tongue. He really really could snap you in half if he wanted to. Your pussy clenches at the thought, the denied orgasm finally raising its head again.

A hand moves to grip at your chin. “Use your hands.”

You blink at his grumble. 

Did you hear him correctly? He never lets you use your hands, always choosing to fuck your mouth. What— 

“I want those hands all over my cock,” he grits out when you give him a confused look. “I want them smelling like me when you try to touch another guy again, reminding you of why you shouldn’t.”

You swallow, arousal coating your core at his words. You’ll never understand how his filthiest of demands and proclamations never manage to gross you out. You know the why, of course, but you do not get the how. Emotions work in inexplicable ways.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, you reach one shaky hand to wrap around him.

Namjoon scoffs. “What is all this shaking? If I wanted a blushing virgin to slobber on my dick, I wouldn't be here.”

You mash your teeth at his gibe.

Never a good idea to bring in tender emotions between the two of you.

Squaring your shoulders, you thrust your naked breasts out, nipples brushing the rough fabric of his pants when you grip his length firmly and tug him closer. Before Namjoon has properly regained his footing, you wrap your lips around his tip and suck hard.

“Oh fuck, baby—yes,” he hisses, a hand gripping your hair, the other resting on the wall next to him. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

You open your mouth, using his precum as lube to take in as much of him as you can. Which you cannot do a lot of, because you have your hand still wrapped around his base when his tip reaches the back of your mouth. You remove the hand, moving it lower to cup his balls, and slide your mouth further down. Just as your nose is about to brush the base of his cock, he hits the back of your throat. Despite the months of practice you have, your throat closes up in a gag.

Namjoon releases a loud groan, breaking into a litany of curses.

“Baby, baby, baby — fuck, babygirl! That feels so fucking good, yes.”

You blink your tears away, easing your throat a bit as you are used to. The addition of your hands is really helpful, though, when you use one to pump him and the other to massage his balls. Your tongue licks at his head, lips pressing slurpy kisses, causing him to give you small groans. You make a detour to lick at his balls, relishing the soft gasps you receive. You roll one into your mouth, softly sucking on it and his hips dart forward with a muffled curse falling from his mouth.

Sufficiently relaxed, you plunge your mouth over his cock, again, this time letting him hit the base of your throat with far more ease. 

“Shit, babe—”

He breaks off into a guttural whine, grip tightening on your hair. His hips drive into your mouth at a slow pace, and you welcome him with your jaw lowered and throat relaxed, humming around him.

“Don’t — don’t do that, fuck—”

You would smirk if you didn’t currently have your mouth full of cock. You flutter your lashes to make do, looking up at him with as much innocence as you can muster. 

Sweat rolls down the planes of his body, his buff chest and rounded shoulders glistening with a sheen. Your pussy clenches, throbbing with the need to be filled the way your mouth is. 

You shut your eyes, resting a hand on one of his rock hard thighs, the other one climbing up to spread over his taut abdomen.

“This mouth really is meant for me, huh? Look at how well you take me, fuck. Tiny little mouth, but opens big enough to swallow this fat cock. My pretty, little cock slut.”

You preen from his praise, fingers splaying over his slippery, sweat coated skin for support as you try to rock your head back and forth to get in even more friction.

“Fuck!” Namjoon suddenly cries out, grabbing your hair and pulling you off himself in the blink of an eye.

Your mouth’s still gaping wide when you open your eyes, confused and more than a little dazed. Your pussy clenches at the sight of his fully erect length, wet from your mouth. You drag your gaze up to his face with difficulty, sweeping the back of your hand over your mouth.

His eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched and teeth barred.

“Wh—”

He cuts you off with a snarl, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing you against his chest, forehead resting against yours. When his eyes open, they are wild and really, really dark.

“No one,” he says very quietly, voice gruff, “else gets to have you like this.”

He swallows your surprised gasp, taking your lips in a searing kiss. You moan into his mouth when his chest moves against your pebbled nipples, all your senses going haywire.

The kiss is cut short far sooner than you would have liked it to, Namjoon’s lips moving down to drop kisses on your jaw, over your neck, down to the curves of your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. You cling onto him with both your hands holding onto his shoulders, desperate whines pulled from you. 

His kisses are littered all the way down to your stomach, and then all the way up to the back of your ears.

“Hands and knees,” his gravelly voice snaps into the nape of your neck, and you spring into action.

Your arousal has definitely ruined the couch, but you couldn’t care less. You quickly press your forehead into its back the way you had when he spanked you, and arch your body to extend your ass as far back and up as you can.

“God, what a filthy fucking slut,” he moans, gripping your hips with both his hands and bringing them down to massage your still singing ass. “Always so willing and ready for me.”

You nod, cheek rubbing against coarse fabric. “Yes, sir. Always. Only for you.”

Namjoon swears under his breath, grip tightening at your hip. “That’s right, baby, only for me. And it better stay that way.”

If it were up to you, it’d stay that way forever. In a more intimate setting than this, too. You wonder how he doesn’t realise that.

“It will, sir,” you sigh. 

Satisfied by your response, Namjoon hums in appreciation and moves two fingers to your core. “Ah, soaking for me, as always.”

Despite yourself, your lips curl up in a smile at the fondness in his tone. “Always.”

He lines himself up, tip nudging at your center. “I fuck you raw you, babygirl. Always fuck you raw. How could you ever even think—” 

His head enters you, and you mewl. 

“—about letting another man—”

“Ah!” Your walls flutter around him as he slides in further. 

“—even touch what I’ve—”

He bottoms out and you gasp. “Sir! Fuck fuck fuck, you’re so fucking big, oh God!”

“—claimed as mine?” he finishes in a growl, enormous torso covering yours and mouth pressing into your throat. “So,” he enunciates with a shallow thrust, “many,” another thrust, “times.”

Your jaw has been dropped in a silent scream which verbalises at his final thrust. You hear him chuckling at your shout of pleasure, and your cheeks heat up.

“You didn’t answer me, baby,” he somehow manages to intelligibly murmur between hammering into your.

All thoughts leave you, your mind singling out the feeling of Namjoon expertly hitting that one spot inside of you that always sends you over the edge in a handful of strokes.

You jolt with every push of his cock, small gasps leaving you. He’d eaten you out to the point of causing pain, and still hadn’t let you come. Your cunt has been convulsing by itself ever since. It won’t take you long to—

“Are you even listening?”

A resounding thwack lands on your ass, forcing you to stop thinking about your impending orgasm.

And then it registers.

With a small gasp, you launch into explanations. “S–s–sir, I didn’t—I won’t ever, ever. Think of an–another man. Touching what’s — what’s yours. Never,” your last word comes out as more of a wail when he grinds his hips into your ass.

Namjoon grunts in response. “Good. That’s — ah — good. Now be a good little slut and take what I give you.”

Your jaw unhinges with a loud moan, back arching further. Namjoon fucks into you at an unforgivable pace, lewd noises of skin slapping on skin mingled with the harmonies of your moans and his muted groans fill up the space around you. 

Your orgasm looms quicker than you expected. 

“S–sir, I’m close!”

“Oh?” he pants, amusement lining his voice. “Already?”

You duck your head, short of breath as you try to speak. “You — you, ah… you fuck me… fuck me s–so well, sir…”

Namjoon hums. “Who fucks you so well?”

Your entire body thrums. “You do, sir.”

“And who am I?” He lowers his head to nip at your shoulder blade and you falter.

“Sir—”

“What’s my name, my little slut?”

Your eyes snap open. He wants you to say his name? You’ve never done that before.

His hips roll into you at a slower pace while you try to arrange your tongue around the two syllables.

“Namjoon,” you whisper, barely even audible to yourself.

He scoops you up to press your back against his front, moving his lips to your earlobe. “Louder.”

“Namjoon,” you say a bit louder this time.

He growls. “Fucking scream it.”

One of his hands clamps over one of your breasts, mauling the flesh, while the other moves to your center, expert fingers locating your clit and flicking it between them. 

“Namjoon!” you yelp, not even close to a scream, and he swears behind you.

He pushes you back into your previous position and grips your ass firmly.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to give me a scream,” Namjoon mumbles with determination spilling off his words. “I’ll pull one out of you.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at his words, just as he pushes at your ass, pulling himself almost fully out of you before he pulls your ass back and hits all the right spots within you. And then he picks up speed, fingers digging into your ass to roll your hips over his.

You thrash wildly in his arms, hands flailing every which way to find purchase until you grip onto the back of the couch. Sweat breaks out on your skin, breathing all over the place with exertion as your hips are dragged back and forth. The coil beneath your navel is wound tighter and tighter with every stroke.

“I — I’m so close, please—”

“Come for me, baby,” Namjoon prompts you. “Come all over my cock, fuck, get those juices all on me. Want it so bad. Give it to me, babygirl.”

He fucks you hard and fast and messy, and you are shot off careening into your climax.

“Oh—oh oh oh, fuck — yes yes yes, fuck! Namjoon!” you scream, walls spasming around his length as you explode, drawn under by the huge wave of blinding, white pleasure crashing into you. 

Your vision blurs with tears, breathing momentarily ceased. Your body shudders with the force of your orgarm, hips undulating against Namjoon.

“That’s right, baby,” Namjoon coos, rocking into you at a slower pace. “Namjoon. Not my cousin, not any other guy. Only Namjoon.”

He is still thrusting into you when you float back down from your high, but his breathing has picked up and you can tell it’s just a matter of time before—

“Fuck!” Namjoon grouses, stiffening behind you for a second and then exploding in you with a shout of your name. His hips grind into your ass a couple of times before coming to a halt.

You are a lump of bones, crashing on the couch immediately once Namjoon takes his arms off you. But you’ve barely laid there for a couple of seconds when you are scooped up in his embrace.

Your bleary eyes open to find him staring down at you with a very delicate expression on his face. That very familiar feeling of hope tries to make its way to the forefront of your brain, but you push it down.

This isn’t anything special.

Sure, a lot was different tonight than your usual nights with Namjoon. But different doesn’t necessarily mean special. In this context, it doesn’t at all mean special.

Namjoon acted the way he did because he was jealous. That is all there is to it.

When Namjoon deposits you on the edge of your bed, a soft look in his eyes as he kneels before you, every repressed feeling in your heart decides to climb up your chest and asphyxiate you.

You cough, placing a hand on your sternum to physically fight it off. 

But then Namjoon grins, and you nearly sob in pain.

You hasten to put up all your walls. You’ve been in this position far too many times to not know better than expecting softness and comfort from this man after sex. That isn’t to say he leaves you unattended and uncared for, no. He tends to your every single need, asking a myriad of questions about your well being and only leaves your house when he’s ascertained you’re good to be left on your own. But the entire process is so clinical, that it could very well be a nurse doing all those things with you because you cannot tell the difference.

You look away from his blindingly beautiful smile.

“All this because you don’t want me to let Seokhyun court me?” you say, trying to sound as humorous as you can.

Namjoon’s expressions shatter. He pulls his lips into a straight line, his eyes suddenly losing their lustre.

Now this — this confuses you. What reason does he have to look so stricken? He’s the one who doesn’t give two fucks. He’s the one who never saw you past fucking you. He’s the one who sometimes forgets you two are supposed to be best friends as well.

He’s the one who decided to hide you from his parents. Probably because he was too ashamed of his association with you in this way.

He’s the one who most definitely doesn’t have any feelings for you beyond the customary platonic worry of a friend.

Shouldn’t he be overjoyed that you didn’t make a big deal out of his jealous claiming of you? 

“Seokjin,” he corrects you and you bite your tongue.

Way to make a statement and the guy’s name wrong. Now he’d know how little that guy — or any other guy in the world — means to you next to him. Or, would he? Nah, this is still too much to expect of his oblivious self.

“If that is how you see it,” Namjoon speaks so low, you have to strain your ears to catch it all, “fine. Did I convince you to not let Seokjin court you?”

Uh, most definitely too much to expect. Your shoulders slumping, you blindly reach behind you for the comforter.

“As I said, Joon,” you tell him, honestly, “I wasn’t actually gonna do it. Was just trying to placate your mom, tonight.”

Namjoon looks relieved. You hate it so much. You hate how he gets to walk away from this without a single scare every time, while every shield you put up in front of your heart seems to just crumble at the end of your nights with him.

“Because,” you spitefully and unnecessarily continue, wrapping the comforter around your naked body and avoiding his eyes, “it would be all too inconvenient if I tried to date your cousin while we’re doing this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You look up at him with your face carefully wiped off any expressions. “It means that we’ll obviously have to stop this if I try to get with your cousin, Joon.”

“But you just said—”

“I said if,” you interrupt, feeling satisfied at the dent between his brows.

He raises to his feet, naked torso just as inviting as ever but face completely shuttered. His eyes have a far off look in them and try as you might, you cannot decipher the knots in his eyebrows. 

Why is he so jealous of you hypothetically dating his cousin if your thing with him means so little to him? He has always made it painfully obvious to you, with words and actions, that this just happens because it's convenient for him.

You give a small sigh when he just stands there without moving. 

“I’ll be okay, Joon. You can leave if you need to.”

His gaze snaps to yours in what feels like surprise, but he has steeled his face in such a way that his stare looks completely flat, now. You raise your shoulders in a tiny shrug when he keeps staring. 

“Does anything hurt?” he finally speaks, voice coming out just as flat as his whole demeanour.

Exactly how a nurse would ask about your well being.

You shake your head. “A bit sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? I can make you some tea?”

You’d kill for a piping hot cup of chamomile right now. But asking him would kill you. You just need him out of your house as soon as he can be.

“No, I’m good,” you quietly lie.

Your eyes dart towards the clock on your nightstand. It is close to midnight, now, telling you it’s been nearly two hours since you two left the party. 

“Maybe you should head home. It’s pretty late and your whole family’s in town. They’ll start wondering where you disappeared off to.”

Namjoon looks away from you and gives a stiff nod. “Maybe.”

He leaves your bedroom without a word, grabbing his clothes from the living room. You follow him on timid steps to find him turned to the other side, buttoning his shirt.

Your eyes scan the couch and sure enough, there’s a huge, damp spot at the edge of the seat where you knelt when you sucked Namjoon off. You pull your lips in, exhaling. 

Namjoon is still silent even as he gathers his discarded suit jacket and tie, and suddenly, a pang of guilt hits you out of nowhere.

You’re not being too harsh, are you? Basically kicking him out after sex?

But this has always been your norm. He always, always leaves after sex, never ever staying the night no matter how late it is.

But you still shouldn’t have been so dismissive about it, right?

You don’t get to dwell much on it when Namjoon stalks past you with his eyes looking straight ahead. He has his tie stuffed into a pocket of his trousers, and his suit jacket hangs off one of his shoulders. 

It suddenly hits you when he’s at the door.

“Oh, my God—Joon! You didn’t bring your car!”

He looks at you over his shoulder as he unlocks the door with a roll of his eyes. “Glad you remembered,” he sneers. “No issues, though. I called an uber, it’s almost here.”

Heaviness falls to the pit of your stomach. Why is this whole situation suddenly so caustic? It’s supposed to be routine, right?

Then why does it feel wrong to send him off like this?

“Um, Joon?” you call out, unable to stop yourself.

He’s already descending the stairs of the porch and doesn’t pause. It hurts you more than it probably should.

“It’s fine, my uber’s round the corner,” he says over his shoulder, not even turning his head fully to look at you.

You bite down on your lower lip, hand gripping onto the doorjamb. Why were you so hasty in kicking him out? Maybe you should’ve discussed his jealousy. Maybe it would’ve yielded some explanations. Maybe it would’ve changed things—

No.

You’re not going down that dominos of a line of thoughts. If things were gonna change, they would’ve changed already. Nothing is going to change between the two of you. And it should neither surprise nor bother you, because you chose for things to be this way when you started sleeping with him.

You tug the comforter tighter around yourself, pulling your gaze off Namjoon’s retreating back, and step inside your house.

You breathe out as you lock the door, feeling ten times more tired than you did seconds ago.

You’ve done nothing wrong, you remind yourself. You just chose to prioritize yourself over him, this once. And though you don't usually do this, you are more than allowed to change that.

You are entitled to making harsh decisions to take care of your heart, because evidently, no one else is going to do that for you.

But despite all of this, when you move about the kitchen and start to fill the kettle to make yourself a cup of tea, your heart feels hollow and your eyes keep stinging.

You hate being too weak to protect your heart even when you desperately want to.

You hate the toxicity you two have brewed up, leaving nothing of the sweet friendship you once had.

You hate the day you agreed to Namjoon’s proposal of sleeping together.

You hate that you fell in love.

You hate that he didn’t.

You hate—

No. You wish you could hate him the same way.

You wish. 

You hopelessly wish.

taglist: @shrimpmsg​ @codeinebelle​

© jimilter | 2021

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[xgryffinwhore]

Jaeden martell head canon where he meets your family for the first time( like your aunts and cousins and stuff) & he’s really nervous & thinks they won’t like him but they do ofc & when your watching him play with your little cousins you’re just stood there like🥺 because he’s so good with little kids ahhh i love him & your aunts and grandparents & stuff are like 🥺 aswell because they love you together & couldn’t find a better boy for you & afterwards you cuddle and it’s just really fluffy🥺:)

AW I LOVE THIS

jaeden martell ‘meeting-the-family’ head canons

jaeden is driving you both to meet your family, because it’s a holiday and you’ve been dating for some time now

he hasn’t met your family yet and he’s literally sweating to the COREEE

he literally questions his own existence on the way there

“shit y.n, what if they don’t like me?”

“you’re too good for me, they’re gonna know it”

“fuck my hands are so freaking clammy I can’t grip the steering wheel!”

& you literally have to TELL HIM

“jae, youre an award winning actor I DONT THINK THEYLL BE COMPLAINING-“

you can see his hands shake as he opens the car door he is so nervous :((

you hold his hand and rub into it and tell him

“jaeden, they’re going to love you”

he gives you one of those half smiles and you guys go in

once you guys step in they’re alllll so welcoming and you can see his body ease

he isn’t as tense, and EVERYBODY WANTS TO TALK TO HIM

you spend the first two hours sitting with him on the couch as your relatives interval through him

they all ask the same questions ‘how did you guys meet?’ ‘how is being an actor’

you’re grandpas a little stubborn LMFAO

“what are YOURE intentions with our y/n?”

cliche, yet expected

“just to love her, she’s the greatest”

ok, even your grandpa likes him

you literally step out of the room for TWO SECONDS and when you come back in: jaeden jungle gym

poor jaeden, your little cousins and nieces/nephews are climbing ALL OVER THIS POOR BOY!!!

but he is taking it like a champ!!!

“all aboard!”

he is taking turns carrying them all around, pretending to be a rocket ship

he even plays pretend with them- awww

your heart is going crazy he is amazing with kids

they all want to go outside and they drag him with them

you felt a liiiiittle jealous, HES your boyfriend too BAHABABDBA

but you let it happen

he pushed them all on the tire swing one at a time, and when it was time to eat he sat with you and the older people at the table

you heard your aunts saying how handsome he was

and your uncles saying that they were impressed and that he has accomplished a lot for his age

he heard all of this too and you saw a small smile form on his face

one of your aunts yelled across the table:

“so jaeden, do you want to come to uncle bobs birthday on the 25th?

he was SO FRICKIN HAPPY that they wanted him to come over again

OFC he said he’s

he kissed you on the check while you were both dating he was just so darn happy!!!!

it was getting late and you both had to get home because you guys had to wake up early tmrw

before you left your grandma pulled you aside, and said:

“you know he really is a keeper y/n, you don’t let him go.”

“gram i won’t.”

she walked over and hugged him good bye and he felt his eyes water

he hugged her back and said:

“thank you so much for having me! and thank you all for being so great, just like y/n.”

and that just about did it for you-

you were so sure he was the one now

like you knew you loved him before but you knew for sure you HAD to marry this man

when you both got back in the car you grabbed both sides his face and kissed him

“I love your family, y/n”

“I love YOU jaeden”

the drive home was silent but NOT in a good way, he held your hand on the way home over the stick shift (because he’s cool and drives stick)

you both went inside and you tackled him on the bed get KO’ed JAEDEN WESLEY !!!

he giggled and wrapped his loooong lanky arms around you

he rubbed his thumb into your back

& he smells so warm and homeyyy

you both get under the covers

STILL IN YOUR CLOTHES FROM THE PARTY

and you both just kinda drift off to sleep

jae is exhausted from all of the activity he had today

and you’re just always tired because your his sleepy girl (yeah he calls you that)

before you’re like 100% asleep you hear him whisper sweet little things in your ear like:

“i can see me spending all of time with you”

“one day your going to be my wife”

“i really do love you”

“baby are you sleeping? Awe sleepy baby”

[littlerose13writes]

In chapter 13 of I Knew It All Along, James decides the best way to distract the press from… other things is to dye his hair blonde, which prolific gossip magazine In The Tea Leaves absolutely fall for, they publish several articles and in this chapter we see them invite their readers to ‘see page 8 for our countdown of all the best James Potter hair looks’ and I simply couldn’t resist writing that article and commissioning @yendts to illustrate with her wonderful James! This is the result, I love it a lot. Thank you so much Sydney, it was great working with you and I’m obsesseddd with the outcome!

Click for quality! Alt text for the article body is below the cut:

Puddlemere star Chaser (and all-round Keeper of our hearts) James Potter has never been one to shy away from changing up his look; from his colour-changing robes at the 2029 International Quidditch Awards to the ever-updated number of earrings he sports when off the pitch, James loves to experiment with his personal style.

Puddlemere star Chaser (and all-round Keeper of our hearts) James Potter has never been one to shy away from changing up his look; from his colour-changing robes at the 2029 International Quidditch Awards to the ever-updated number of earrings he sports when off the pitch, James loves to experiment with his personal style.

His favourite thing to change up is his hair. We’ve seen it all from James, and it was about time somebody collated all that auburn-haired, Potter yumminess into one handy countdown! Do not fear, In The Tea Leaves has your back, and we present the definitive countdown of all the BEST James Potter hair looks*

*rankings based on a quick survey passed around the ITTL staff room, v scientific!

In at number five… admit it, you cried yourself to sleep mourning the loss of James’ hair the first time you saw this pic! We did too, but when we heard all of the Puddlemere lads buzzed their heads together to raise awareness and funds for Cerebrumous Spattergroit Research (after their dear friend and teammate Bradley Bell was sadly diagnosed in 2027) our hearts simply melted. Talk about a team effort! On his new hairstyle, James said on Owlstagram “I’ve never fully appreciated the exact shape of my skull before now - we love you Bradders!” He must have really liked it because James stuck with the ‘do for longer than most of his teammates - we think he most definitely pulls it off!

The boys raised a whopping 5000 galleons for the charity and were over the moon to learn that Bradley was set to make a full recovery.

Page 2

Up at number four is the infamous mullet which really split our office down the middle - there were lots of votes for it to take the top spot. James graduated from Hogwarts with this trendy ‘do and carried on rocking it when he first joined the Puddlemere development squad (awww baby James!) No doubt if trendsetter James did this now, it would immediately be known as a Jullet! (we would indeed take full responsibility for starting this) James, if you’re reading this, we think it’s time to bring this one back!

In the middle of our countdown is this sweet, curly look - doesn’t it make you want to ruffle James’ hair and tell him how gosh-darn cute he is! On Owlstagram, James said he was inspired by the Chudley Cannons’ unofficial mascot, his cousin Freddie’s labradoodle (his name is Gravy and we are all kinds of obsessed - see page 17 for pics!) which makes sense - they’re both absolutely adorable! To achieve this look at home, we recommend Fleamont’s hair-curling potion: it’s a splurge at 18 sickles a bottle but we tested five brands and it was by far the best quality!

Page 3

In second place on our countdown is this cool, classic look that James returns to time and time again, his quintessential style. We’ve seen him score match-winning goals with this hairstyle, grace the cover of Wizard’s Health, enjoy the occasional night out with his teammates and blow us all away on the red carpet at the Harpies charity ball. There’s something about the way the wind rushes through his fringe as he flies that has James going back to this hairstyle and all we can say is we agree! It’s a low-maintenance and cool choice for the wizard in your life - just ask for ‘The James Potter’!

And taking the top spot, to the surprise of pretty much no one, is the look that had us all brushing up on our blowdry charms! The middle parting, the sweeping fringe, that dreamy smile; this look secured James a spot on everyone’s bedroom wall (see page 12 for a pull out poster of this pic) including ours at ITTL!

Overall, we think it’s safe to say James Potter really can pull off anything and we can’t wait to see what he surprises us with next!

[txemrn]

For the simping softness prompt...

Sam & Brynn - " hey, everything's gonna be fine. stay where you are, i'm on my way. "

Hey, Nestle! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you enjoy a fluffier Sam Dalton (for a change)! 🥰❤

***

Unveiled

Book: TNA

Warning: language; fluffy

A/N: Huge thank you to sweet @kat-tia801 for pre-reading this and helping me in my headspace with that darn moodboard! 🤣

***

Sipping hypnotically on her early morning espresso, a well-dressed Brynn stoically sits at the marble breakfast bar. Her normally careless, wavy almond tresses are neatly styled and pinned into a low, tasteful bun, exposing the pure white brilliance of her vintage Tiffany pearl earrings, courtesy of her future in-laws for accepting their son’s proposal to join the family. Her make-up is fixed modestly, her lips adorning her perfect shade of mauve, complimenting the ripples of blue and gray in her sparkling eyes. Her pressed midi eyelet dress is designed for women of status, easily paired with her nude, red-bottom heels.

And Brynn has never felt more uncomfortable.

Even though Sam asked for Brynn’s hand in marriage shortly after the new year, the couple agreed to announce their engagement intimately last month to their families. They knew the news would not come as a huge shock, but Sam had cautioned his young fiancée that wedding and party planning is a long-standing tradition amongst the Dalton family women, and it would begin the moment they knew a date had been set. Though she heard his warning, Brynn was not prepared for the onslaught of opinions, decisions being made without her approval, and more importantly, the disregard to her budget.

“Babe, we just spent $12,000. On a fucking cake--” nervously cried Brynn on Monday evening. Sam took the early morning off for wedding cake tasting, but left his bride-to-be with Vivian, his mother, and two of his cousins, Brigitte and Katarina, to talk design as he returned to the office

“Sweetie,” Sam kissed her gingerly, “don’t worry about the price.” He lovingly pressed his lips again to her mouth, this time embracing her comfortingly. “I got it--” Brynn forced a smile, nodding her head dutifully, but the price tag burdened her.

This is not me.

Today, Sam’s cousin Daphne, an apprentice for the designers at Alexander McQueen, has scheduled a fitting with a private collection from a recent trunk show of wedding dresses. Brynn already has her heart set on a dress she saw with Jenny and her mom back in Philly, but as to not rock the boat, Brynn agreed to look at dresses with the Daltons this morning.

A smooth, deep voice startles her from her thoughts as Sam wraps his arms around Brynn’s waist. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

That makes two of us.

Brynn bats her eyelashes. “Do I look like a Dalton?”

“Even better,” he peppers her neck with kisses, “you look similar to the gorgeous woman that agreed to marry me.” A natural smile takes over Brynn as she spins around in her stool to face Sam. She delicately slides her hands around his neck, pulling him into a more intentional, hungrier kiss. Sam pulls away first, tracing the back of his fingers across her soft cheeks. “Ready for another day with the fam?”

“Ready or not,” Brynn sardonically chuckles.

Sam kisses the tip of her nose. “Now, aren’t you missing something?” Brynn furrows her eyebrows, giving Sam a curious look until he pulls his other hand into view. On his pinky finger resting on his first knuckle is the 2.4 carat Graff emerald-cut engagement ring he had given her. “Do I need to superglue this on or what?”

Brynn nervously giggles. “I’m sorry, babe, I just--”she titters, “--you know, I’m just not used to this--”

And the five-digit price tag…

Sam raises an eyebrow, offering his hand with his palm facing up. Brynn’s eyes meet his dreamy, chocolate gaze as her hand easily melts into his. With his eyes not leaving her stormy blues, he glides the diamond on her finger. The perfect fit. He kisses her knuckles before kissing her lips again.

“You better get going, babe.” Resting his hands on Brynn’s hips, Sam helps her off the high-top chair. “Hey,” he leans over, suckling briefly on the crook of her neck and shoulder before brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. “This is all about us. Just you and me.” He offers a crooked smile, squeezing tightly to her hand. “Remember to have fun.”

Brynn nods, her anxiety beginning to melt away.

That’s right. You and me.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

***

Flipping through notecards for his marketing presentation for the Cromwell account, Sam shakes his watch down his arm. 9:52 AM. He smirks, knowing that Brynn, his mom, and cousins are well into their wedding dress appointment. He hasn’t heard from his fiancée since this morning, so he remains encouraged that no news is good news.

Sam hurries into the glass-enclosed boardroom, casually nodding to several familiar faces as he unbuttons his sport coat. As his meeting comes to order, his phone begins to ring in his pocket. He chuckles in embarrassment as everyone begins to whisper with the interruption. “My apologies, folks,” he charms with a smile. Looking at his phone, Brynn’s picture pops up, but he sends the call to voicemail. As he begins to send her a text message, she calls back immediately. He silences the chiming of his phone, staring at Brynn’s ID photo. “Uh--” his voice carries over the room as he decides whether or not to take the call.

Brynn has never been one to interrupt Sam at work. If she wants to be cute, she usually sends a message in his lunch or she emails him, ensuring not to interrupt his busy schedule. The fact that she was calling, even after her call being rejected concerns Sam. “Excuse me. I need to take this,” he informs his audience, “please go ahead and help yourself to some coffee.”

Sam exits to the hallway, answering the phone. “Hey, babe--”

“Hey.” Brynn’s voice is soft like a gentle breeze, settling into a stale silence.

“Brynn?” Sam’s voice has a hint of concern as he crosses an arm over his chest to cradle his elbow. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just--” her voice begins to crack, audibly swallowing sobs.

“Brynn baby,” Sam furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just really--” she sighs heavily, “just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to bother you--”

“You know full well that you are never a bother,” Sam hushes into a commanding whisper. “Is my mom being nice?”

“Oh God, yes. Everyone is lovely. It’s just--” Brynn stumbles into her own tears, crying over the phone as Sam patiently listens.

“It’s just what, baby--?”

“I can’t do this,” she abruptly answers. “I can’t keep pretending I’m something I’m not--”

“What do you mean--?”

“I have only tried on two dresses--couture dresses--Sam, that start at fifteen grand--” Sam purses his lips together, pinching the area between his eyes, listening to Brynn start to panic. “--and now I’m standing in a Sarah Burton gown rejected by Kate Middleton. Kate Middleton, Sam! And-and-and I’m wearing a diamond that costs more than my first car, and Sam, I just--I just--”

“Whoa, whoa, listen to me, baby,” Sam reassures her lovingly, “slow down. Breathe--just breathe. If you don’t want this, just say the word--”

“But your family--” Brynn tries to stifle her sobs, “God, I just--Sam, I can’t do this. I want you, and-and I love you. So fucking much,” she shakily exhales, “but this life? Are you sure? I mean--look at me--”

Sam lets out an exasperated exhale as Brynn continues to cry. He looks back into the glass conference room, seeing his presentation on the screen. He looks at his watch again before turning his attention back to the attendees to his meeting, already rolling their eyes in boredom.

Suddenly, a smile grows across his face. “Brynn baby?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “I’m here.’

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m hiding in the dressing room. I told the attendant I needed a minute.”

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. Stay where you are. I’m on my way--”

“But, Sam--”

“No ‘buts’, my beautiful bride,” he smiles cheekily, “I’ll be right there.”

***

Forty minutes later, Brynn changes back into her white, summery dress, slowly donning her heels. As she touches up her make-up for lunch with her future mother-in-law, she suddenly hears a man’s voice interrupt the hushed whispers of the Dalton women. Brynn carefully peaks out the lavish chenille curtain.

Sam.

Brynn quickly pulls open the changing room, a radiant smile illuminating her face. Sam jogs to her side, receiving her in his arms with a searing kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here--” Sam silences her, pressing his lips harder into hers, causing them both to giggle into breathless moans. Brynn opens her eyes and notices Sam has a garment bag in his hands. “What’s that?”

“Change into this.”

Brynn raises an eyebrow. “What? Why--?”

“It’s not new,” Sam informs, “but God,” he sighs, allowing a mischievous grin grow across his face. “--you look amazing in it.” Sam’s eyes lock onto Brynn’s, time and place fading around them. Brynn’s cheeks begin to flush, feeling the desire in his gaze. Sam cups Brynn’s cheek, licking his lip. “Go on,” he whispers, directing her to the dressing room and lightly spanking her on her ass, “we’ve got places to be.”

Brynn suspiciously steps backwards into the changing room, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. She hangs up the garment bag, unzipping it hastily. Allowing the fabric to slink through her fingers, Brynn’s breath hitches, tears collecting in her eyes. Inside the protector is a short, solid black, one-shoulder dress, the same dress she wore on their official first date, the same dress she wore the night he proposed to her.

She pulls the curtain back open, causing Sam to whistle with his teeth, a golden gleam in his eyes. Giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he steals Brynn from his family, escorting her to the car. Giving a nod to Carter, the car starts moving.

Brynn relaxes into Sam’s comforting arms. He begins to nuzzle his supple lips into her ear and neck. “Thank you, baby,” she moans. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting--”

“I’m not--” he growls as his lips descend to her exposed shoulder, nibbling on it.

“Sam--” Brynn gasps, leaning into the passionate smolder of his pout.

Suddenly, the car stops. Sam looks up at Brynn, offering his hand for hers. “Are you ready?”

Brynn giggles, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t even know where we are.”

Sam helps her out of the car. As she steps away from the car door to adjust her dress, she notices the grand cement gray building in front of her, adorned with large ornate columns and intricately chiseled statues. Stairs that lead to the front doors are busy with people coming and going.

Brynn furrows her eyebrows. Confused and wanting answers, she whirls around--only to find Sam on one knee. A curious smile grows across Brynn’s face as she self-consciously looks around at the crowd of people. “Sam, what are you doing?”

“You asked me earlier on the phone to look at you,” he smiles brightly as his eyes begin to glisten with tears. “I am.” He takes a big breath, gathering courage. “Brynn, I don’t care if we eat gold-infused cake with diamond encrusted icing or that fake shit from the can--” they both begin laughing, welcoming the comic relief as they wipe away their tears. Sam continues, “I don’t care whether you are wearing one of my ratty-old tees or an expensive couture dress--I don’t care,” he kisses her hand. “When I look at you, Brynn Noelle Schuyler, all I see… is that you’re the only one for me.” Brynn genuinely glows, streams of tears pouring down her cheeks as she subtly shakes her head in disbelief. “Marry me--”

“Sam,” she giggles, sniffing away her tears, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but haven’t you already asked me--?” Sam stands up, shaking his head. He takes Brynn’s face tenderly into his hands, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Marry me,” he bites his lip, nervously sucking in air. “Right now.” Brynn’s eyes grow wide as she stares deeply into Sam’s gaze. She anxiously looks around her, her eyes darting to the people staring at them, to the car and then to the courthouse before them.

“Right now?”

“Right now,” Sam smiles, humored by the shocked look on his bride’s face.

Brynn looks down at her hand, staring at the radiant sparkle of her diamond. Chewing on her lip, she subtly nods her head before turning her attention back to her groom.

“Okay.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268@neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

[seokmingiggles]

powdered sugar.

@ofrosesandteacups​ requested on 201220: "Would you do a fluff Yoongi one shot where he goes home for the holidays with his girlfriend for the first time (but he's previously met her family when they've come for a short visit) and although he's nervous, he finds that since his girlfriend is the youngest of her family with a wide age gap between her and her siblings (like 8 years older) she gets babied by them/gets them to do things for her by being cute/whining which he's seen bits of in Seoul but she usually independent and tends to take care of him and the rest of the boys so he teases her for it? Also I really enjoyed 'Comfortable' and I'm excited for whatever else you create!"

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, holiday season.

1.85k words

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol consumption, (dialogue heavy).

On the drive home from your parent's Christmas Eve dinner with the rest of your family, your boyfriend enjoys hearing you whine as he reminds you of the way you're coddled by your older siblings. Later on, he continues to pamper you when you return home. Alternatively, Yoongi wants to baby you every once in a while because you're just so darn cute.

A/N: Thank you for the request (and for all the support you've shown for me so far)! This one was a bit tricky for me to think about since I am the eldest of my family. I tried to put myself in my step-sister's shoes (who is younger than me by nine years) to come up with how the reader would feel being the youngest. I hope it turned out okay! I kind of made it turn into something else near the end (it felt like I was around 600 words for a long time, and then it suddenly became 1.8k). Please enjoy :)

•• "Wait, no, when Jun got hit when we opened the champagne! That was the highlight of dinner, I swear. My cousin is hilarious."

You laughed again just picturing your tall relative hiding in the corner of the kitchen behind your (much smaller) aunt, but still getting the cork to his head despite his efforts.

"Yeah, Junhui is something else, that's for sure," Yoongi grinned, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. One of his hands was on the steering wheel, while the other encased in yours. "Do you want to know my favourite part about seeing your family again?"

You glanced over at your boyfriend, interested in what his opinion was, "I bet it was the turkey my mom made. I know you love her cooking."

"Well, yes, that's a given," Yoongi silently thanked your mom again when he remembered the delicious care package she put together before you left, "but actually, I love seeing how different you act when you're surrounded by your siblings."

"I should have known." You rolled your eyes despite knowing he wouldn't see the action under the passing streetlights.

"It's true! I keep forgetting you're the youngest when it's just you and me. You always insist on taking care of me and asking how I'm doing, so it's funny to see your siblings pull that stuff on you when you're all together." Your boyfriend's face was illuminated crimson from the traffic light. He glanced at you, "You're the baby. The little, tiny baby-"

"Ah, stop it!" You smacked his hand situated on your lap.

"Be careful, (Y/N)-ie, that dish just came out of the oven!" Yoongi ignored your gentle warning and continued to tease, quoting what your siblings had said earlier, "Let me do it. You can go sit down at the table."

"Now you're just as bad as them, Yoon."

The light turned green.

"You just rile them up when you walk around all cute and pouty. I'm scared to open the champagne bottle. Can someone else do it for me, please?" Now he was quoting you.

"And I had the right to be scared of it! You saw how it hit Jun's forehead!" You still couldn't get over how the cork managed to find him. "Are you telling me that I'm not normally that cute around you?"

Yoongi scoffed, "You already know I think you're cute. It's just that you're so different around your family."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all. But it catches me off guard. They're all so cautious about their youngest doing things on her own." Another stoplight. "But little do they know what a big girl their baby sister has become!"

He had the audacity to poke your cheek as he laughed; a cold sensation on your skin warmed from the champagne—you’d had both yours and Yoongi's portion as the boy knew he'd have to drive you both home afterwards.

"Yoongi," you dragged out, "please! I could be teasing you at how stiff you were when you first walked through the door tonight."

"That's not the same."

"Isn't it? It's nice to see you again, Mr. (L/N). I swear you corrected your posture as soon as my dad opened the door."

Now Yoongi was whining out a complaint.

"They like you already; my family has for a while. I don't know why you still act so proper around them."

"I'm only being a good son-in-law."

"Say that again after you propose, Min."

"Yes, ma'am."

You finally were met with silence, a nice change from your boyfriend's loving teasing. You leaned your head against the top of the passenger seat and watched the colourful lights pass by. The radio was quietly playing in the background; a Christmas hymn barely heard over the noisy car, crunching over the gravelled-down streets.

"Do you want me to propose?"

You almost missed Yoongi's words from your ears being tuned to the gentle orchestral arrangement playing from the speakers.

"Of course I do," you cooed. "I love you, so yes. Without a doubt, one day, when we both feel ready to take that step."

"You know we've been together for years now, (Y/N). It'll be our sixth in the spring. Maybe it was because I saw your siblings with their spouses tonight; it got me thinking about it all. Your eldest sister already has a daughter too." He paused, eyes still focussed on the snowy road, "It made me wonder if you'd want that too someday. With me."

You couldn't help the smile that formed across your face at picturing a lifetime with the boy next to you. You squeezed Yoongi's hand intertwined with your own.

"That sounds perfect, Yoongi. Any future with you sounds perfect."

The car finally reached its designated parking spot in front of your condominium unit. Yoongi put the vehicle in park and removed the keys, but you both remained in your seats with hands still laced together.

You turned your head to the side to see Yoongi already giving you a fond gaze.

"I love you," he whispered. Anything louder would seem deafening under the delicate snowflakes beginning to fall, instantly melting as they hit the glass of the car's windows. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N)."

"Merry Christmas, Yoongi. I love you too."

The two of you exited the car and collected the cards and small presents arranged in the backseat that your family so graciously handed to you after dinner. Of course, also not forgetting the leftovers your boyfriend was so enthusiastic about too.

You unlocked the door to your home as Yoongi had the assorted gifts held tightly to his chest with the oversized Tupperware of food in his hands, carrying it like some prized possession.

He walked over to the small decorated tree in your living room to add the few new additions of prettily wrapped boxes beneath the shrubbery after dropping the food in the fridge on his way. He plugged in the lights and admired the way the tree sparkled.

He found himself looking beneath the tree at one small box in particular. "Hey, could I give you a gift tonight, love?"

You were in the entryway hanging up your jackets and putting away your boots. Once finished, you made your way to see Yoongi sat on the floor next to the tree: his portrait glowing from the gleaming lights.

You smiled at the view; your boyfriend never failed to take your breath away. "I don't know, technically it's not Christmas yet."

"It will be in ten minutes."

"Hm, I suppose I can let it slide just this once."

You made your way closer to Yoongi, taking a seat in front of him on the carpet.

"Can you close your eyes for me?"

You obliged his request, but quipping, "Your idea of a gift that can't wait until tomorrow better not be a kiss, Min Yoongi."

You felt a soft peck on your lips.

"You know me too well, love."

But you also felt something small placed in your hands.

"You can open your eyes now."

As your eyes fluttered back open, revealed to you was a small box. It was no bigger than your palm; black velvet with a forest green ribbon decorating it, turning into a delicate bow resting on its top.

You looked back up at Yoongi, who only nodded his head to encourage you to open it.

Pulling at the ribbon, your breath hitched when you carefully opened the lid.

It was a necklace. In the shape of a heart, it looked even more golden from the warm-toned twinkling lights of the tree next to you.

"Yoongi, it's beautiful," you gasped, already removing it from its container.

"It's a locket," your boyfriend commented, taking it from your smaller hands so he could show you.

Upon opening it, you were met with two small photos on each half of the heart. The left side had a tiny family photo with you, your parents, and your siblings at your graduation a few years back, and the other side contained an old photo of you and Yoongi around the time you first started dating.

You almost felt like crying; the gesture was so thoughtful.

"Your mom found these photos buried away and gave a few to me. I know how much your family means to you, so that's why I chose this one," he pointed to the one with you grinning in your cap and gown and smushed in the middle of a hug by your siblings, "and I'm fairly certain that I also mean a lot to you, so I wanted to include a photo of us." Yoongi brushed his thumb against the right half of the heart housing your younger faces.

"This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received, Yoongi." You released your grip on the velvet box and moved to embrace the boy, "I can't thank you enough. You're so wonderful to me."

"Merry Christmas, my love," Yoongi returned the hug, smiling into the top of your head. "Would you like my help to put it on?"

You reluctantly let go and sat in front of him once again. "I think you've spent too much time around my siblings, Yoon. You know you don't have to treat me like a baby the way they all do. I'm capable of doing things myself even if they say otherwise."

"I know you can, (Y/N), but you're my baby. I think there are different rules. Here, let me help you."

You sighed with a smile and shook your head at Yoongi's persistence, but turned around in your spot nonetheless. He carefully maneuvered the necklace around you, fiddling with the clasp until the sides hooked together properly.

You spent a little while longer in the gentle ambiance of the decorated tree and watched the dainty snowflakes fall from the sky. It was past midnight now; the world was quiet. Silenced by the powdered sugar fragments drifting down from the heavens and covering the earth in a blanket of icing white.

You fiddled with the chain around your neck, leaning back into Yoongi's warm chest, having moved from your spot on the floor and to the couch.

You felt him press a kiss onto the back of your head, his protective hold around you tightening ever so slightly. Maybe it was from the coziness being in Yoongi's arms, or possibly from the big dinner you had a few hours ago—you felt yourself beginning to drift off, not fighting the all-encompassing tranquillity.

It was only at the sound of your breathing becoming heavier when Yoongi realized the predicament he found himself in. He smiled, wanting to coo at how cute you looked asleep in his arms, but he chose not to wake you.

Instead, he planned on bugging you about it when you inevitably woke up, saying something about how his little baby didn't even make it to the bed because she was so tired.

Yes, like your siblings, you were his baby too. Until you had your own, and maybe even after then as well, you'd be his baby.

••

[mybloodybaes]

House (with pics if possible 👀)

house: do u have any pets? do u want any?

Friendo you are gonna have a fun time seeing all the chilluns!

So first up, we have DAMSEL. The absolute sparkle in my life, my precious lil baby ferret who is basically our child. She is incredibly smart but also VERY cunning and a little daredevil. We often joke about how she would harass the hell out of slashers, like chasing Brahms around or stealing Bo's things and pissing him off even more.

Next up! We have the lovely, trying his best in life, Billiam the Axolotl! I got him for my birthday a few years ago, because all I wanted was an axolotl to love and dote on and take care of. He's.. he doesn't have very many brain cells, and he has extra toes and a crinkle in his tail from not being taken care of properly before I got him, but gosh darn it do I love him to bits! I'm planning to get him a bigger tank here soon and decorating it with all kinds of fun goodies.

Next we have my beloved brothers that we adopted as a pair. We actually rescued them back when we were homeless and living out of our car, but they would have been bait for attack dogs (dog fighting) if we didnt. They helped us so much emotionally, and they're both healthy, happy and silly boys. Eddie Gluskitten has a more round face and a darker orange color mixed with his white coat. He's very soft and affectionate, always wanting to politely ask for things when he mews. Richard Tragpurr or Trager is a bit.. funny. He tilts his head like an owl a lot, but he gets away with all atrocities because he is my Grandma's favourite and he constantly cuddles up to her. And yes, the brothers are absolutely named after the antags from Outlast. The Devs know my cats exist too and adore them on social media when I share them. In the future if we ever get more cats, I def need a Frank Manera lykoi, and rhe most sleek Val possible.

Last but not least, we have big chungus himself, aka Kyun. Also fondly called 'the Rhombus', 'Kyunbus', 'Kyubie', among other affectionate names. Kyun though, is actually the name of a Katamari cousin that is described as 'a weird, gray shape!' So, it fits him well lol. We found him years ago on a truck wheel well in the middle of the night outside of a McDonalds, mewling up a storm as a lil abandoned kitten. After being washed up, cleaned up, fed lovingly for a bit, I couldn't let him go, so he became my lil buddy. I think he's a russian blue at his core, but I also think he's a bit inbred since he's had some health problems and has an adorable overbite with his lil fangies hanging out. He's getting pretty old now, but I still love him to death.

[yamithediaperdork]

My Cousin is CRAZY! (Ben10 alien force)

My cousin is crazy

It was Saturday morning in Bellwood and 15 year old Ben Tennyson was slowly waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs. It was strange because his parents were on a vegan kick at the moment but he decided to roll with it and opened his eyes as he went to sit up. And then groaned out loud as he took in stock of his attire and what he was sleeping in. Not for the first time since Gwen had started working out hardcore last year the girlish Ben had found his cousin perv'ing on him and deciding he should be her sissy baby wife. Despite making his lack of interest in such plans clear MORE then once, It hadn't of stopped Gwen from snagging him up at random times and dressing him up. Case and point, he was currently in what he estimated as 5 princess reaz's diapers (he'd sadly become familiar with the different brands because of Gwen) and a dark pink top with lighter pink puffed out shoulders and a semi skirt that didn't even cover half of the diapers. The top also had a red heart on the front with white writing in cursive declaring 'i wove my mommy' going along with the top and diapers his hands were in locking mittens meaning any attempt to use the omnitrix was doomed to fail and his feet covered in booties with slick bottoms so Ben would end up having to crawl unless he wanted to fall on his ass every 12 steps. 'At least she didn't put the paci in my mouth this time.' Ben thought with a sulky though a pat on his head told him she had put the silly over sized bow in his hair again, the damn thing pink with white poka dots. As for what he was in, again this wasn't a shock to him as it wasn't the first time but he was still less then pleased to have gone to sleep in his own bed in a pair of boxers and wake up in the hot pink crib Gwen had built just for him during her wood shop class. And of course since she wasn't shy of telling people who it was for Ben had been forced to endure even more teasing at school though ironically just verbal, no bullies had darned to lay a finger on him and have to deal with Gwen's almost super human power and bulk. The last bully who had tried had been found hanging from a flag pole by a pair of Barbie pants. Struggling to get to his feet on the purple sheet covered queen sized mattress and ignoring the fuzzy white and pink blanket and pillows in the crib with him (not to mention a dolly or too) Ben took in a deep breath and then hollered at the opened door frame of Gwen's room. "GWEN YOU SICK BITCH! YOU'VE BEEN TOLD TO STOP KIDNAPPING ME AND DRESSING ME IN DRAG AND HUGGIES! COME IN HERE AND LET ME OUT OF THIS OUTFIT BEFORE I GET YOU IN SHIT WITH YOURS AND MINE PARENTS AND GRANDPA MAX TOO!" It was the only threat that normally worked as while they're parents thought it was mostly cute, they all agreed that Gwen kidnapping Ben crossed a line. other then that though it was fair game if he was out of the house. Grandpa Max was nicer about it in Ben's view as he made the rust bucket a official safe zone that even Gwen respected and so Ben found himself hanging out less with Gwen and Kevin and more with Gramps. Kevin for his part was all too happy to stay out of it, treating the whole thing as a bullet dodged when him and Gwen had never hit it off and a better Ben then him. Ben didn't have to wait long as he swore he could almost feel the food steps of Gwen as she made her way towards the room.

Between the insane amount of weights she worked and the reps she put into and a unexpected growth spurt Gwen looked like she could of been a WWE at her 6'10 height and 320 pounds of mostly muscle. She kept her Orange hair short and was wearing a pair of grey jogging pants and white under shirt that showed off her girl abs. "Awww is my darling widdle wife to be awake?" She coo'ed, cupping her hands together and flashing Ben a big smile. "Gwen, for the LAST time, I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to be your sissy baby, now PLEASE let me go. I'm not joking, I'll call Grandpa Max over and get you in SO much trouble." Ben huffed, trying to look intimidating but his outfit made that all but impossible. "Awww such a silly widdle gurl! Did widdle Benny forget that this is our parents couples retreat weekend? And gramp's is off on Plumber work! That means I got widdle Benny to myself allll weekend." Gwen gushed and came over, lifting him out of the crib with ease and holding him up so she could give his padded rump a sniff. "Ah crap baskets..That was THIS weekend?" Ben whined, not even bothering to point out he would of said something if he had used the diapers. He'd tried to make plans to hang out with cooper for that weekend but had clearly gotten his dates wrong and was capital S screwed for the next 48 hours. "Hmm Doesn't smell like Benny has made me a present yet..but I know you will soon enough. you just love to make presents for your hubby don't you?" Gwen coo'ed and moved him down enough she could give him a Eskimo kiss. "Oh yeah. highlight of my weekend, fudging a diaper." Ben said sarcastically. "Now now, I know you're just grumpy because you didn't get to play with me last night, but I had to take care of a few things. But we have allll weekend sweetie. And if you promise to be a good little gurl for me I'll be nice and spoil you with all the junk food you want. After all you need to put on some baby fat." Gwen chuckled and kissed his cheek. Ben groaned, Gwen was always trying to chub him up, but given the fact he'd been subjected to the 'wonder's' of a baby food and formula weekend before, and the fact he was trapped regardless he just hung his head. "Fine, I'll play along. but for the record, you need help." Ben huffed. "Oh please, I can handle my widdle wife for a weekend!" Gwen chuckled and carried Ben off towards the kitchen.

Strapped into a wooden but painted light pink high chair, Ben played along with his crazy cousin and held up his arms so she could remove his top and replace it with a hello kitty bib. "Now Benny, if I remove your mitten's and let you feed yourself, you're not gonna do something stupid and try and use your silly little watch now are you?" Gwen asked. Considering between her bulk and her magic Gwen out classed most of Ben's aliens anyways and she always made sure he was sorry for trying to go alien on her after he timed out, Ben decided that having the freedom to feed himself was worth playing along. "Yeah I'll be good.." Ben said and held up his hands. She studied his face for a second, as if deciding whether or not to trust him then smiled. "I believe you. I really hope we can have a nice weekend together and I don't end up having to spank you. it hurts me then it does you when I have to." Gwen said then moved to free up Ben's hands. 'Bullshit on that one!' Ben thought but wisely kept his thoughts to himself and just flexed his fingers, and looked at the watch. "I'm not going alien, I'm just checking to make sure no alien got primed to go while the mitten on so I don't accidentally go alien and get my cheeks tanned." He said, and then after getting a smirk and a nod from Gwen checked the watch. Thankfully nothing was primed and he made sure to show the psycho and then wiggled in the high chair as he waited on her to plate up some num nums for him. Everything else aside, Gwen really was a excellent cook and she didn't hold back as she put the piled high plate of scrambled eggs and Bacon and some pancakes down in front of Ben and handed him a baby fork and knife. She had also poured on the maple syrup and set down a one liter baby bottle full of chocolate milk for him and kissed his cheek. "Eat up little lady.Oh, did you want me to put a show or something on for you while you eat up? I think Sumo slammers is having a marathon on channel 6 today." Gwen asked, nodding to the Kitchen TV her mom had had put in back during the 90's. "..That would be agreeable yes." Ben said, trying not to break out into a silly grin before he started to dig into the food, watching as Gwen was proven right. 'you know.. the huggies and drag aside, I could get used to being spoiled like this.' Ben thought.

Gwen smirked as she watched Ben chow down and kick his legs ideally in the high chair. while she would of preferred he watch something a little less violent she had changed up her usual plan for weekend sessions with her soon to be sissy bride. Trying to enforce the baby food and sissy programs only made him fight it more so she was gonna meet him halfway and try to ease him more into baby gurlhood. One added bonus though she noticed with a big grin while she had her normal bowl of high protein gruel was that Ben was even more of a messy eater then normal as he watched his show, getting syrup all over his face and bib and eggs and bits of bacon were all over the place. 'He's such a big baby! I love it!' She mentally squealed. It only got better as halfway though his plate, he reached for his his ba-ba and held it with BOTH hands like a good baby gurl and she was fighting the urge to squeal out loud. Anytime she tended to praise him for his babyish behavior he always tried to cut it out. Finishing her gruel she washed it down with a protein drink and noted that Ben was squirming around lots in his high chair, with most of his food gone and the little sissy had packed away HALF of his milk already. "Doing alright over there baby gurl?" She asked. Ben seemed to snap out of his show induced trance and blushed. "I uh..I gonna potty..and I think I got a gas bubble stuck." He said, poking two fingers together. '..Is he asking me to burp him?' Gwen wondered but was ALL grin's "Well that's no good! here, let me help you out. whats a little gas between husband and wife?" She said. Coming over she grabbed a dish towel and a wet dish rag, putting the towel over one shoulder and then moved Ben's num num's and ba-ba over onto the kitchen table and removed his bib. washing the big baby's face and chest down she removed the tray and lifted him up, swooning as his legs wrapped around her and he helped her get his head over the towel. Rubbing his back she gave it all of three firm but gentle pats before Ben let out a massive belch over her shoulder and spit up a little bit of milk. "Uh...T-Thanks Gwen." A sheepish Ben half coo'ed and then switched shoulders and nuzzled into her. "Do you want me to set you down so you can go and hide while you make potty?" She offered, clearly trying to meet him half way was working wonders. "I..I Uh..no." Ben Mewed into her shoulder, which of course muffled his voice but she got the jest of it. "You wanna use your diapers while your bride to be holds you tight and praises you for being a good girl?" Gwen asked, grinning ear to ear and holding Ben close and rubbing his lower back. "I..I dunno..Maybe..I mean..If I can't use the potty..I guess it's.." Ben Mumbled into her shoulder, She could tell he'd of rather used the bathroom, which was a touch disappointing to her but still, with him willing to go in his pampers while she held him being his second choice that meant she was making headwind. "Do you wanna keep your face in my big strong shoulder or be turned around facing away from my?" She asked, then leaned down and kissed his neck, knowing from Julie (who had dumped Ben mostly because she shipped the pair) just how much he loved having his neck kissed and nibbled on. Case and point Ben didn't even really reply, just snuggled into her harder. Taking that as a answer Gwen made her way over to a kitchen chair and took a seat, Ben's legs on either side of her lap and his arms hugging her, while one of her strong hands rubbed and patted his pampered bottom. Her other hand was rubbing and pressing on certain spots on Ben's back and it didn't take loud before her efforts were rewarded as a muffled poot came out his backside, then anther and anther and she could feel him starting to push and grunt. "That's it baby gurl, let it all out. make me a nice big present." Gwen coo'ed sweetly in his ear and follow up with giving him a gentle start of a hickey on his neck as he began to fill his pretty pink diapers. "G-Gwen! Dun! N-Not while I'm pooping!" Ben meekly whimpered, though he tilted his head in such a fashion that he was offering her a even better shot at his neck. "Heh, Somebodies gonna be a tsundere diaper sissy for me huh? That's ok. I think it's adorable." Gwen chuckled, feeling the lumps of Ben's 'present' to her fill up the back of his diapers and mentally giving thanks to whatever mage had made the spell that allowed her to only smell strawberries in cream as Ben loaded his huggies. 'Maybe if he's a good gurl at our wedding, on our honeymoon I'll cast it on him too.' Gwen thought. Food for thought later, She had a good little gurl dumping his guts in his pampers for her and whimpering for his reward and as such, she leaned down and started to gently nibble and suck away on Ben's neck, smirking as the little sissy let out a soft "I love you.." as she did so.

The end

[ffakc]

A Midwest Christmas - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Again, I’m aware I’m late posting this. I know it’s no longer Christmas, don’t yell at me. Christmas is one of my favorite holidays and I LOVE writing stories that are based around Christmas.

Jeff crushed out his cigarette and breathed hot air into his hands to warm them. He shrugged his shoulders a few times, almost as if he was psyching himself up.

“You okay, babe?” I ask and kiss his cheek, shutting the car off.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m so nervous! I’m a grown ass man, damn it,” my boyfriend chuckles.

“They’ll love you, Jeff. You know my mom and dad love you already, you have nothing to worry about, baby” I give his thigh a squeeze and kiss his neck deeply. Jeff moans and tilts his head to the side.

“Please don’t give me a boner before meeting your female relatives,” Jeff chuckles. “I don’t know, babe. Dad might not love me after I walk through the door,” he gestures to his Seattle Seahawks beanie.

“He’ll get over it,” I laugh and open the car door. Jeff grabs the box of gifts from the trunk and holds my hand as we walk to the front door.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” I holler from the foyer. Jeff kicks off his boots.

“Hey sweetie! Hey Jeff, what’s up, brother?” my dad calls from the den.

“Hey, Mr. C,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“Oh no, oh no. You take that hat off! You’re in Bear country!” my dad laughs. “Just when I thought I liked you!”

“I knew you’d say something! GO HAWKS!” Jeff chuckles and tosses it onto the bench. My dad jokingly makes a fist. I roll my eyes playfully and ruffle his hair as we head upstairs. Men and their sports, I’ll never understand it.

“You can just set the gifts under the tree,” I whisper to Jeff and give his arm a squeeze. He waves at my female relatives at the table.

“Hiiiii! Merry Christmas! I’ve missed you!” my cousin Amy hugs me. “How’s New York?”

“Absolutely incredible. Every day feels like a new adventure with this one,” I gesture to my man standing behind me. “This is my boyfriend, Jeff!”

“Hi there, you must be Amy? I’ve heard so much about you!” Jeff shakes her hand and kisses her cheek.

“All good things I hope!” Amy laughs.

“Yes ma’am. I’ve heard y’all are super close, and I love that. Family togetherness recharges the batteries.”

“I’m glad to hear it! I can’t think of a single holiday we didn’t spend together,” Amy gestures around the table.

“Have a seat!” my mom says. “Can I get you anything to drink? We have wine, beer, Coke Zero...”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Jeff replies and sits next to me at the long dinner table. I pull a small bottle of Crown Royal out of my bag.

“I’ll take a Coke as well,” I laugh.

“You came to party! I’ll take some too,” Jeff wraps his arm around me and kisses my cheek as I add the liquor to his glass of ice, “It smells amazing in here, Ma,” Jeff says to my mom.

“Thanks, Jeff! It’s a tradition on Christmas that we have Grandma, my mom’s, tacos. The shells are from a tiny little Mexican kitchen downtown, that’s how my mom always did it. I think we’re just waiting on Jessica and then we’ll be ready to eat!”

“Sounds delicious,” Jeff sips his drink.

“How’d you guys meet? You look super familiar, Jeff,” my aunt Janine remarks. I rest my head on Jeff’s shoulder.

“It all started when I began frequenting this coffee shop that opened near my, well, OUR farm while on hiatus from work. I couldn’t take my eyes off this brown eyed manager with the messy bun in her hair who would always ring me up and make my drink. Golly, she looked cute in that apron,” Jeff nudges me and everyone laughs as I blush. “I finally had to ask this pretty young thing out. I invited her over for dinner and the rest is history. One year and some change later and I can’t imagine my life with anyone else but my baby gal,” he kisses me softly. “Oh! I’m an actor, by the way. I’m currently on a show called The Walking Dead, I play the bad guy named Negan. A lot of people still recognize me as Denny from Grey’s Anatomy and John Winchester from Supernatural though,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“I knew those eyes looked familiar!” my aunt exclaims. “Wow, girl, a famous actor? Check you out!”

“He’s pretty great. I thought the concept of soulmates was cheesy til this man came along. I mean, nobody’s perfect, but Jeffrey comes pretty darn close,” I rub his thigh under the table.

“How old are you anyway? That gray beard says you’re old,” my 13 year old cousin Alyssa asks.

“Lys! You can’t just say that!” her mom quiets her.

“It’s okay, hon! I’m not offended at all! I AM old, real old. I’m 54,” Jeff laughs.

“And how old are you?” Alyssa turns her attention to me.

“24,” I link my arm with my man’s and nuzzle his shoulder.

“Sooo, you were 30 when she was born?” Alyssa makes a sassy face.

“Don’t push it, little girl,” Jeff teases and we all laugh.

*Jeff’s POV*

“So, this is the man cave, huh?” I glance around at the fishing poles adorning the chocolate brown wall and Chicago sports gear.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice! It gets cold down here, but the fireplace helps!” my girlfriend’s dad Tim tosses some kindling on the fire.

“Super cozy,” I remark. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. I had something I desperately wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to just get right to it.

“How you doin’, bud?” my girlfriend’s grandfather Ray asks.

“Good, Ray! I’m really good, fantastic actually. It feels so nice to be off work for the holidays! Thank you guys so much for welcoming me into your home. Dinner was delicious and the Midwest hospitality is much appreciated.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Tim says.

“This is for you,” Ray reaches into his coat pocket. He passes a CD my way with small writing on the jacket, “To: Jeff. Love, Grampa.”

“Aww, what’s this?” I say, pushing my glasses up.

“Elvis Christmas songs. Something for you and your girl to dance to. You better treat her good,” he smiles his adorable old man smile.

“Thank you so much, Grandpa,” I get up and give him a hug. “You didn’t have to get me anything. So, um,” I clear my throat as I settle into the couch. “There’s something we should talk about. I mean, something I need to ask you. I don’t know, I’m shaky as hell. So, how do I put this?” I pull a small velvet box out of my pocket. “I brought this with me.”

“You want to marry me? Let me go get my dress!” Tim teases. Whew, a joke to break the tension.

“Yeah, totally! I, wow, I’m going to cry. Pull yourself together, Jeff. I wanted to know if I can ask your daughter to be my wife. She’s got me wrapped, man. When I look into her eyes, I just fall in love over and over again. I know it’s old fashioned of me to ask, but I thought I’d do the right thing and ask for your blessing. I love your girl so damn much, you have no idea,” I wipe tears away.

“I had a feeling this would be happening. You kept staring at me all through dinner with this lost puppy look in your eye, like I was going to yell at you or something! Jeff, I see the way she looks at you and it warms her dad’s heart. Every time you speak, she stops immediately what she’s doing and stares at you with hearts in her eyes. I’ve never seen my daughter so happy. Of course you have my blessing.” My heart begins hammering in my chest as my soon to be fiancée’s dad pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you so much, sir! Oh my god, I’m freaking out. Thank you, thank you! So, next question, where’s the best place to propose around these parts?”

“Well, downtown near your hotel on 5th Avenue, it’s all decked out in Christmas lights. Maybe you guys could take a walk down there?”

***

“What a great dinner, your family is so kind and welcoming!” Jeff says as we climb into the warm car. “I love you so much, doll.”

“I’m so glad you had a good time, honey. I knew you would! I love you too, Jeff. I’m so looking forward to the hot tub when we get back to the room, I don’t know about you.” Jeff slides his hand over my upper thigh seductively as I drive through the city in the direction of the hotel. I glance over at my boyfriend and he gives me the sexiest bedroom eyes. I could have just stopped the car and taken him right there. We jam out to our favorite Christmas songs and giggle like kids.

“Fifth Avenue,” Jeff mutters. “Pull over, babe.” I pull into a parking spot and Jeff grabs my face and kisses me deeply, “Let’s go walkin’ in a winter wonderland.” I smile and shut the car off and follow behind him. Jeff’s adorable spontaneity was one of his best qualities. He takes me by the hand as we look at the twinkling lights. There’s no cars on the road and the snow dampens all the sound.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jeff places his hands on my hips.

“Yes?” I wrap my arms around his neck. We hold each other close.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he pecks my lips, I run my fingers through his soft gray hair. “I tried to come up with a long romantic speech, but words are failing me. You’re everything I’ve hoped and dreamed for. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re the reason I can’t wipe this smile off my face. Every time I look into those gentle brown eyes, I’m reminded of why I fell in love with you all over again. A life without you is a life I don’t want to live. You’re my entire world, sweet girl.” Jeff pulls away and reaches into his pocket.

“Oh my god,” I sigh, “Jeffrey, I-I-“ I’m utterly speechless. Jeff brushes away the snow on the sidewalk with his gloved hand and gets on one knee.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” Jeff smiles widely, opening the velvet box and revealing a simple, shimmering band. That man knew me so well, it was exactly the

“Oh god, Daddy! Yes! Yes, Jeffrey, yes I’ll marry you!” I jump up and down excitedly. Jeff’s hands shake as he slides the ring on my finger. I gasp with delight, “I love you. Oh baby, it’s beautiful!” Jeff gets to his feet and rests his forehead against mine as we both cry tears of joy. My breath quavers from excitement and the biting cold as Jeff kisses me over and over again.

“I want you to be mine forever,” he whispers against my lips.

“Forever and ever. Oh my god, my heart is racing! You’re so amazing, I love you so much.”

“I love you the most, baby gal.”

***

Jeff and I could hardly keep our hands off each other as we hustled to the elevator.

“Merry Christmas!” the front desk agent calls out.

“You too!” Jeff replies with a friendly wave. I untie my coat as the door to the elevator shuts. I tangle my fingers in my silver fox’s thick hair and moan as he kisses my neck and pulls down my sweater, brushing his scruffy beard against my chest as he kisses and sucks gently.

“Jeffrey, you naughty boy,” I gasp. His large, slender hand find its way between my thighs. “Please, Daddy,” I whine. Jeff slides his fingers down the front of my leggings. He pulls them out just as the elevator chimes, my face goes red as I readjust my Christmas sweater and Jeff fixes his hair as if nothing ever happened.

“Merry Christmas!” an innocent, elderly Mrs. Claus looking woman greets us.

“Merry Christmas to you too!” I reply, the cool air of the hallway hitting Jeff’s saliva on my chest, causing me to shiver with delight. We laugh to ourselves as Jeff opens the door to our suite. Oh, that poor old lady, I hope she didn’t hear too much.

“Let’s see, how about we celebrate with a drink!” Jeff says with a wide smile, slinging his coat over a chair.

“Hmm, how about something sweet? I kind of want dessert after all those tacos,” I wrap my arms around my now fiancé’s waist as he kisses me, his large hands squeeze me closer.

“Your sweater reminds me, how about a White Russian?”

“I am, in fact, the Dude. One of my favorites,” I reply with a laugh.

“Hmm. Vodka, check. Coffee liqueur, got it. Cream, hmm. Cream, cream, cream,” Jeff taps his chin. “Got it!” he grabs some half and half packets from the coffee station.

“Ah, resourceful! I like that!” I kiss him and sit on the bed, “I’ll get the bath ready.”

I draw the bath and Jeff hands me a drink, setting his on the rim of the tub. He unbuttons his shirt revealing his hairy chest and stomach. He kisses me.

“I love you so much,” he says. “Nice ring you’ve got there.”

“Thanks!” I run my fingers down his chest, “My handsome fiancé gave it to me.”

“He must be a lucky guy,” Jeff’s pants come off and he slides into the tub with a loud groan.

“Jesus, that feels so fucking good,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “Come on in, baby gal, the water’s fine.” Jeff bites his lip eagerly as I take my clothes off. “You’re so sexy, you know that?”

“I could say the same about you, darlin’,” I reply, tossing my bra on the floor. I tie my hair up as my fiancé looks me up and down. I climb in the tub, opposite of the rugged older man that I was so lucky to call mine. Jeff grabs my leg and begins kissing the length of my calf.

“When and where do you want to get married?” he asked with a sly smile, kneading my legs.

“Honestly, I’ve always dreamed of a fall or winter wedding. You know how I feel about hot weather,” I take a sip of my White Russian.

“Babe, it’s too hot! This is stupid! Ninety degrees? Ew, fuck that!” Jeff imitates my whining. I laugh.

“You know me so well!”

“Daddy, I have a headache!” Jeff cackles.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” I playfully splash water in his face with my foot. Jeff sputters.

“I give you shit because I love you!” he wipes his face.

“I know, and I give it right back to you, asshole! What were we talking about again?” I giggle.

“Wedding plans?”

“Oh, right. So, definitely a fall wedding. What about on the farm? Ballrooms have never really struck my fancy. That little area off beyond the pastures would be beautiful, don’t you think?”

“I agree, I don’t need a big gala with a stuffy tuxedo to show everyone how much I love you. Ooh! How about under that big tree where we had a picnic and carved our names?” Jeff places my legs on his shoulders.

“J hearts K, yeah, I remember,” I sigh longingly. “That’s where you first told me you loved me.”

“Aw, it was, wasn’t it? You packed us a picnic and everything! You’re just a regular Ina Garten, aren’t you? Remember me yelling at the dogs to stay away from the alpacas? ‘Guys, those aren’t puppies, they’ll kick the shit out of you!’” Jeff laughs.

“Well, if I’m Ina, you’re Jeffrey! Hey, look at that! It works!” I tap my glass against his. “Those dogs are so cute, but they’re little shits sometimes.”

“Oh, absolutely they are,” Jeff agrees. “Wow, that cute barista who I was scared to ask out is going to be my wife? How did I get so damn lucky?”

“You were scared to ask me out? Why? We would always chit-chat back and forth.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why. I think it’s because I didn’t want to be THAT guy. You know, the guy who thinks the food service worker is flirting with him just because she’s being nice,” Jeff rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t get that impression from you at all! I think you’re sexy as fuck, and have since the day I first met you. If I thought you were a scumbag, I wouldn’t have flirted back. And I wouldn’t have had sex with you on the first date, would I?” I tease.

“You’re right. Man, that was a wild night, eh? My heart still beats fast when I think about it,” Jeff grins. “You looked so damn good in my shirt too. Come here,” he holds out his arms and I make my way to his side of the tub, sitting on his lap. He runs his manly hands all over my body and buries his face in my neck, kissing and moaning, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mrs. Morgan.”

“I love the sound of that. I get to be your wife and I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I love you so much, Jeffrey.”

“I love you too.”

We eventually climb out of the tub, after kissing and laughing and talking til the water turns our toes to raisins. I wrap myself in a fuzzy bathrobe and Jeff quickly does the same. I climb in the big, fluffy bed and Jeff snuggles next to me. He wraps his slender arms around me and I immediately drift off to sleep.

***

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” Jeff’s croaky, sultry morning voice rings in my ears like church bells. He kisses my forehead, his scruff brushing against my skin. I squint my eyes at the bright sun bouncing off the snow and flooding our suite.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I curl up closer to his warm body. I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, “Has anyone told you that you look like Santa Claus with your beard?” I laugh and kiss his collarbones.

“Every damn day on social media,” Jeff chuckles. He moans softly at my touch. I stop and hold out my left hand, my vintage gold band shimmering in the light.

“Just had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” I smile.

“You ain’t dreamin’, sweet girl. You’re going to be my wife,” Jeff kisses me and strokes my hair. He climbs on top of me, our naked bodies still cloaked in the beige comforter. He buries his face in my neck, leaving sloppy kisses.

“Daddy,” I whimper.

“Yeah, baby?” I hold his face in my hands.

“Nothing, I just like looking at you. You sure are pretty. What do you say we have a little fun before going back to Mom and Dad’s?”

“I would want nothing more,” I reply as Jeff pulls the blanket over his head and begins kissing down my body. I giggle with delight as his beard tickles me. Best. Christmas. Ever.

Tag list: @negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes @iluvneganandjamie

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Deeper Water

[Tour]

Word count: 2696

Kinda late birthday gift for @the10amongstthese3s

Gosh diddly darn where do I start-- you are one of the most wholesome people in this community okAy? You’re such a saint ya know?! I swear, you’re probably the first of many to genuinely cheer me on with my writing and listen to all my ideas. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I remember when you first messaged me (or maybe I messaged you? i can’t even remember- we talk every day now!) and how happy I was to be noticed by someone so big and amazing in the fandom. I just felt so honored and lucky. And I sure am right about being lucky. Hell, Duckie you probably don’t notice this but your content and just you in general has helped me through quite a lot of shit. I absolutely love how you constantly try to help others out, put a smile on their faces and watch them grow. Your personality is GOLD. You have made me motivated and inspired me in so many ways, helping me with writers block, stupid anon hate, and my self-esteem in general. You’re such a respectful person and I just want to say over and over again until the end of time: Thank you… I thank you for reaching your hand out to me and my writing and helping me grow, even when I’m being stubborn and childish. Thank you for everything.  I wanted to give you something in return as well. I’m sorry it probably doesn’t seem like much but here you are, you wonderful, amazing, talented person!! Take this as a gift of my gratitude and how you changed my life through everything!

------------------

  “Teach me how to swim.” Joan grits out from between her teeth. Her icy grey-blue eyes are sparkly with tears, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped tight around the straps of the backpack she insists on using for work for some reason. The nails on both hands have been chewed down to almost the stinging quick. Aragon pauses, swallowing the last swig of her cherry powerade as she considers the girl: She’s trembling, lower lip wobbling, and her knees are nearly knocking together. Aragon wants to fish out a bandage from her pocket that she knows she doesn’t have to wrap up around her nails.

Joan is scared. But why?

It’s a question that even Aragon asks herself. Why was she afraid of water? Why was she so hesitant to swim? Why didn’t she know how to yet?

What happened?

Did she watch a loved one drown? Was her home destroyed by a flood or hurricane? Was she ever dunked underwater again and again and again and again until she couldn’t breathe anymore?

Anxiety surges like the ocean surf and riptides that pull Joan down beneath the surface, closing over like a lattice net of hands in children’s games, forcing her under. Anxiety, fear, terror--and for what? Over what? A liquid? A liquid she should have no reason to be afraid of? She was never traumatized by water, not that she can remember, so why?

  “Okay,” Aragon says with a shrug, and it’s as easy as that.

Joan swallows her shock at the agreement and the tears thick at the back of her throat, and nodded. She smiles thinly, wryly, shakily, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Then, she’s gone, whirling around in a flash of white-blonde hair and waddling off like an ungraceful arctic fox to her dressing room. Aragon doesn’t watch her go. No need. She turns, too, and throws her bottle away in the nearby trash can. Nearby, masters of eavesdropping Anne and Jane stare at her in dumbstruck shock, and Aragon isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or punch them at their stupid expressions.

  “What?” She snaps at them.

They say nothing, too intimidated by her bright, flashing eyes. Aragon snorts and then goes on her way.

She doesn’t speak to Joan until the end of that show day, after two performances, and by then they’re both exhausted. Aragon hides it as she always does, but Joan is slouched in a position that’ll make her back hurt later, rubbing the goosebumps on her forearms like she was cold, despite it being a rather warm early spring day. Her eyes are vacant and far away.

(why? why? why?)

Aragon throws an arm over her shoulders in a friendly way, as if they have known each other for centuries, and she can feel the trembles wracking Joan’s frame. The girl vibrates against her and rattles her rib cage to a rhythm conducted by aquaphobic horror.

  “Let’s do this!” Aragon says, and the words ring oddly hollow in her mouth. Her chest aches in a way that reminds her of when Mary was taken away from her when Joan smiles up at her- tremulous, but trusting, and Aragon thinks that this is the first time she’s been told such a thing, been included in something, been the center of someone’s attention.

And it terrifies Joan.

(why why why oh why why why--)

But Joan sucks it up- Aragon can see her swallow in a thick way that makes her own throat hurt. She smiles again, this time more for herself and says, “Yeah”, but it doesn’t come out right. It’s a squeak, a mewl, a bleat, a pathetic excuse for a reply because her terror has her by the neck with yellowed fangs dug in and she can’t even answer correctly. Aragon glances down at her, eyebrows twitching together, then nods.

There’s no going back. There’s only the here and now- only the salt spray that bludgeons even her dulled sense of smell, mouth dry and tasteless still from hours of singing, that Joan hides her face from by burrowing against Aragon like-

-like a small animal, a baby kitten maybe, one Aragon had plucked off of the streets back before marriage in her past life, nursed back to health with dribbles of milk and lovingly smashed up food, and learned to love again through loving something else. After Henry and Mary, her heart felt like ground beef, or pulpy chuck, maybe- all mashed up and masticated, run through the grinder twice over. It’s still sore, still tender, but it’s been healing. They’ve all been healing.

Was Joan?

(wet too wet too cold why why why--)

And as if on stage cue, her chest twinges, the stab smothered in a rough clear of her throat, and Joan sniffles. Aragon can’t tell if she’s crying. 

They take Aragon’s car. The drive is silent, aside from Joan’s sniffles and gasps and mewls of distress. She spent it rocking back and forth in the passenger seat, looking very anxious and very regretful and very, very ill. But she doesn’t tell Aragon to turn around or stop, even when she had looked like she was going to vomit at one point. Her nose squirted out blood shortly after that, the stress too much for her poor little body, and Aragon wordlessly gave her a napkin with a pitiful frown.

The surface of the lake churns, roiling over with wavelets and riptides. Little dimples and indents are left behind by the rain, like the pattering of unseen children, jumping in puddles with bright red boots and yellow rain slickers. Aragon parks in the grass and she and Joan sluice through evergrowing puddles and mud to get to the shore. They stop. A runner of blood hangs pendulously from one of Joan’s left nostril and she swipes it away swiftly. 

Joan dry swallows. Her eyebrows furrow, knitting together, as she tries to figure out what to do next- paralyzed by indecision by the sandy shores of the water, little wavelets lapping at them, ratty sneakers she bought from a thrift shop squashing down temporary imprints into the wet earth. Aragon thinks that she looks a hell of a lot like an indignant kitten, when she’s got the tip of her tongue barely poking out from between her clenched teeth and face all scrunched up in something close to the cousin of a scowl like that.

  “Gotta screw your courage to the stickin’ place, right?” She asks, trying to break the tension, and to her relief, it does. Joan nods, a sharp little jerky motion, and then kicks off her sneakers and wrangles off her socks with her toes. They’re bright pink with yellow elephants, and the water almost carries them away. Aragon bends down quickly, grabs them by the cuffs and flicks them over her shoulder, back in the vague direction of where their jackets and phones sit, bundled safely away from the surf. Joan startles a little at that, but when Aragon takes off her own shoes and throws them, she does the same, tossing her sneakers casually backwards. That tears a smile from her.

  “Let’s do this,” Joan says, and even if her voice catches in her throat a little when a clump of seaweed is washed up onto the shore like a snarl of a corpse’s hair, she steels herself again. Aragon feels that same twinge in her chest, she thinks it might be right under her sternum- as she mirrors her word choice, and they come as naturally to her as if they were her own. Her shoulders are squared, and for a moment, as the wind whips white-blonde tendrils of her hair into her face Aragon thinks that she can see a girl who could lead herself out of the maw of hell through sheer will and grit alone.

But then thunder grumbles overhead and the lake roils in response, and another line of blood drips down Joan’s face. She lets it fall.

It’s a terrible day to go swimming. At the same time, with the skies overcast gray and sprinkling down, little tepid spatters of rain rather than a steady drizzle, it doesn’t feel like swimming. It’s a far cry from the gorgeous azure summer day that most people would take a dip in, and Aragon wonders if that’s why Joan chose such a day in the first place. Maybe learning how to swim in a tempest would prove something to someone.

(who to who who would be proud who would cheer who who WHY)

Blood splatters against the wet sand and blooms into a glorious red flower. Its petals whorl outwards, swirling and flapping into magnificent crimson waves that dissolve into the ebb and flow of the tide. Plop, plop, plop. Flowers bloom and wilt with every hungry roll of water against the shore until Joan finally wipes the stream away and whispers, “I’m ready now.”

She isn’t, Aragon knows she isn’t because she’s sweating buckets and her eyes are shiny and have more white in them than grey-blue and she looks like she’s about to foam at the mouth like a hog in a slaughtering pen, but she nods anyway.

  “Alright.”

Aragon walks forwards, blindly into the water, and her hands carefully hold Joan’s, leading her deeper. Just until the water settles a little over their hips. She keeps her voice soft and warm and oh so gentle.

  “You okay?”

Joan nods, opens her eyes, which Aragon hadn’t realized she’d had squeezed shut, and utters something that sounds like the noise a lamb with its throat cut would make. Sweat runs down her temple. The water ripples with her body’s violent tremors of terror. She tried again: “Yeah. I’m good.” 

Aragon gives her the time to readjust, her eyes roving over the surface of the water like quicksilver, between the lightning and the gloomily dark bottom of rounded out pebbles and slabs of slate. It’s a little uncomfortable to be standing on them barefoot, the edges of the rocks and the corners of the bigger chunks digging into the soles of their feet, and Joan ends up standing up on her tippy toe to try to alleviate it. Aragon can’t help but be endeared by how even when she’s trying to be tall, Joan is still shorter than she is. When Joan turns back up to look at her, she knows that they’re ready to continue onwards.

Aragon holds Joan up at first. Aragon has never taught anyone how to swim before, so she’s not sure what to do. Joan’s sort of sprawled out on her stomach, splashing messily, cutting jags through the water’s surface. She punches and kicks like a drunk boxer, movements choppy. Aragon’s hands hover underneath her flat stomach (so thin so thin-- “Don’t you ever eat?”) as she follows her awkward crawl forwards, ready to--push her upwards, maybe? 

Joan’s hair’s getting her in the eyes. Locks of white-blonde are like thorny vines pricking against her corneas. Given their height difference, the water isn’t so deep on Aragon, so she reaches over slowly. 

  “Hang on, Joan-” 

Thunder.

Lightning.

Fission. 

The whites of Joan’s eyes are stark. She spasms in an awful way. She whips her head over to stare, floundering, and after a little awkward moving and rearranging of limbs and splashing of lake water, she's a koala bear clinging to Aragon. Her legs are cinched around her waist, arms thrown over her shoulders, and Aragon’s sort of hunched over because she’s supporting both of their weight and Joan hadn’t thought to bring along a swimming suit, so there’s the issue of her t-shirt and shorts billowing out like some Regency era dress and weighing her down too. She’s this close to choking her out with the strength of her grip.

  “Shh, shh,” Aragon rocks Joan back and forth in patient, soothing motions. “I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Joan pants and breathes harshly against the crook of her neck. Her nails have hooked into claws on Aragon’s back, but if it hurts, Aragon doesn’t say anything.

  “Your hair,” Aragon explains, voice so soft even after being climbed up like she was a ladder. She moves to take the black hair tie off of her wrist. “It’s in your eyes.” 

Joan doesn’t say anything, only looks at her expectantly, the uh, I knew that, dumbass clearly writ across her face. But with blood rimming her nostrils and her eyes blank with horror and lips chewed to shreds, her gaze was anything but insulting.

  “Let me fix it.” Aragon says, and she’s smoothing back Joan’s hair and tying it up into a little ponytail, and then swirling that around to cobble a messy bun. It’s not the greatest looking hairdo in the world, but Joan seems to appreciate it. Aragon tucks the loose strands of it behind her ears clumsily, fingers a little numb with the cold.

  “You’re all good to go, darling,” Aragon says, and Joan nods. 

The moment’s broken, and they go back to kicking and paddling around. More than once Joan splashes water up her nose and Aragon snarks about brain eating amoebas in warm waters. Zombified. Sticks her arms out and everything, tottering this way and that. Aragon doesn’t roll her eyes and they both are grateful for it.

Joan rolls her eyes in response to her own antics, smacks the top of the water again, and it somehow dissolves, momentarily, into a water fight: sweeping arms and frantic giggling. She’s so caught up in trying to drench Aragon in the bone-chilling water that she’s lost her fear of treading water on her own. Aragon points it out, cheering, one fist punched upwards as if to punctuate the air at it.

The day stretches on. It isn’t perfect, but Joan is eventually passably confident with a front crawl. She’d insisted, because the little print outs crumpled in the bottom of her bag from the internet proclaimed it the fastest. Aragon doesn’t push her on her rationale behind choosing it, only helps her get to the point where she can kick her way over to her across the length of a pool. Eventually, she’s exhausted herself, and she lets Aragon drag her back most of the way without snarking.

Aragon remembers the last time that she held her like this: Joan falling into an uneasy sleep on her chest after a nightmare knocked the wind out of her-- literally. She had wrenched upwards out of her slumped position over her desk, leaned treacherously to the left in her chair, and slammed down hard, hard enough that days after they’d found that she’d cracked a rib on the floor.

By the time that the sun is setting, dying red embers bleeding across the sky in long trails, they’re both chilled to the marrow of their bones. They slog through the last few feet of water, resistance heavier than it seemed earlier on, thoroughly wet. Water runs down in streams from Joan’s outfit, and she snorts when Aragon throws her shoes at her when she’s raced across the sand to grab her own. She hobbles after weakly and Aragon stops messing around when she sees her pallor. She jogs over and wraps a soggy arm around Joan’s shuddering frame.

  “Joan?” She says. She lifts Joan’s chin with a finger and can’t tell if that’s lake water or tears rolling down her cheeks. “Joan? Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

Joan shakes her head and bumps it lightly against Aragon’s shoulder. Her eyes flutter shut and she breathes out softly.

  “Thank you,” She whispers. A line of blood creeps slowly from her nose. “For this.”

  “Did someone ever drown?” Aragon then asks suddenly. “In your past life?”

Joan actually laughs. She sluggishly swipes away the stream of blood. 

  “No,” She answers. “No one except me. In my own sorrow.”

Another laugh. Aragon pulls her into a tight hug and kisses the top of her head. Joan hugs back, with nails hooked into needy, grasping claws.

  “It’s okay,” Aragon tells her. “I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “Now it is,” Joan agrees softly. “Thank you.” She nuzzles her wet head against Aragon’s chest. “Catalina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you teach me how to go underwater next?”