#and especially make sure to read shelf life

[voxphantasma]

shelf life 🍋🥦

my piece for @acocfictionzine, to accompany nour @/0CEANKNIVES (on twt)’s incredible citrinabeth fic

[IMAGE ID: a digital drawing of citrina and belizabeth from dimension 20’s a crown of candy. citrina is dead, lying on her back, and belizabeth is leaning over her. there are two close ups of belizabeth touching citrina’s cheek and eyelids. /END ID]

[entitled-fangirl]

How to liven a marriage.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SO MUCH SMUT

Summary: Cregan and the reader's marriage is dull, purely for duty. When the reader finds a book in the Winterfell library depicting just how pleasureful a man and wife's sex life can be, she takes it upon herself to introduce such a thing.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, making out, washing bruises (from a battle), riding, studying the scientific parts of a vagina, foreplay, etc

A/n: based on a reallllly good ask. I think this is my longest fic and I have no regrets. Except that I haven't proofread it yet. That's a later problem.

Masterlist

.......................................................

She felt her stomach drop to her feet when she saw the drawings in the book. Her cheeks became a flushed red, completely embarrassed to have stumbled on something so… private. She shut the book with a thud and cringed at the loud sound that echoed in the library.

She heaved the book back onto the shelf and brushed off her skirt, as if trying to completely brush off the experience itself.

Once she had pulled herself together, she decided she'd had enough of the library. Enough scavenging and prodding at the books. Especially one like that.

Be even so, she felt herself stop halfway to the door.

She was a married woman. The act of sex itself is no crime to a married woman. Nor studying various positions of it. 

It felt dirty to do so. Very wrong. Like her old Septa would appear and scold her ardently over it.

But her Septa wasn't there.

No one was there.

Just her and the book.

…

Cregan was sure to arrive within the fortnight. 

She wished to be happy about all of it. The return of her husband was good. It had been a tough few weeks to rule without him. After all, she was still new to the North.

But she couldn't find it in her.

Cregan was harsh and cold. Never happy, never caring. Duty and honor. How the words were stamped across their foreheads.

They had married out of duty, and that is all they had of one another. They were awkward and lacked the eagerness to spend time with one another. 

She had heard stories of great marriages of love that whisked away all problems and only left a man, a wife, and their love. That was not this marriage.

So the return of Cregan meant the return of a duty that she had started to dislike: Their attempts to conceive. She knew once she gave him a few sons, they would be rid of the need to conceive, but that day was far away.

And Cregan surely drew closer to Winterfell.

…

Perhaps the book- Forget about the book, she told herself. A proud man like him would never agree to look at such a thing.

Her fingers grazed over one of the drawings as she read the contents next to it. It was confusing to try and follow such a strange topic, but still she tried.

Women may experience intense pleasure of their own. It is most easy to start at the clitoris. It is located above the vaginal opening. A gentle circled rubbed at the area w

"What are you reading, my lady?"

She slammed the book shut with a thud and a gasp, her head snapping to the side to see Winterfell's maester standing with a curious expression. She held a hand over her chest. "Do not sneak up on a woman."

"Forgive me, my lady. I thought myself being rather loud in my steps." He gave her a chuckle. "It seems I was wrong."

Her shock was turning to embarrassment as she tried to slide the book further behind her back on the table that she leaned again. "You're forgiven, just go."

"Ah, I've come for a reason," he countered. "News of Lord Stark's return is at hand. He should be here by sunset tomorrow, gods willing."

She nodded, trying desperately to get him back out. "Right. How fortunate. Thank you. You may go."

"My lady, if I may," he continued. "You look rather flushed. Are you feeling ill?"

"NO!" She cringed at her outburst. "No, I'm quite well, thank you."

The maester gave her a strange look. He clearly didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to push it. "Right. If you need anything, only say the word." He dipped his head and hurried off, closing the door behind him.

Her entire body relaxed at his leaving. She ran a hand over her face in an attempt to physically remove the heat from her cheeks.

She had been so close to getting caught with this.

Too close.

When she was sure there weren't footsteps in the corridor, she turned back, opening the book once more and reading further.

It gave her an idea.

She grabbed the book, carrying it to Cregan's desk and setting the heavy thing down. Her fingers sprawled over the page once again, careful to not continue the tear that went down the side. She slowly sat down as she continued to read.

A gentle circled rubbed at the area will increase pleasure during the act of sex.

She looked over her shoulder to check one last time before her hands began to bring her skirt up. The fabric was quickly pooled around her stomach and her legs were exposed. Her right hand shook as it brushed the small piece of fabric still guarding her most intimate parts from the cold air.

But the most important part of a female's genitalia to understand is the vagina. Located between the clitoris and the anus lies the vagina. Though different in looks, all women's perform quite alike.

Her breath caught as she gained her last bit of bravery, and her fingers pushed the fabric to the side. The cold air made her hiss, as did the coldness to her fingertips.

The labia majora protects the vagina from foreign particles, the labia minora after that. 

Her fingers explore the very area, the cold digits skimping past the skin until she knew her middle finger grazed the inside of her vagina. 

She should have known the territory well. It was her own body and still she found herself unsure of where everything laid.

And above all else, she felt filthy for it. This was for her husband, not her own gain. Her own pleasure has nothing to do with making an heir. But she wouldn't stop now.

Her eyes grazed over the page again as she pushed her middle finger deep inside her. It caught once or twice, the lack of moisture causing a small discomfort. But once her second knuckle disappeared into her, she recalled the feeling. 

She remembered this now: the feeling of something inside of her. Though, this was one finger and nowhere near as intruding as her husband's cock. And only then did she begin to understand how a man could fall apart from this feeling. Her walls seemed to not want her finger to part from her. She pumped it in and out a few times before daring to turn the page with her left hand.

…

Cregan returned as promised, with the sun beginning to set behind him- though it was covered with the thick clouds of the North. 

Standing on the stairs to the castle was his wife. He had long awaited to return home. To continue his duties to her? No. But home meant warmth and small comforts and he would take that every day he could.

He dismounted his horse and took slow steps to her. He forced a small smile, more for the sake of everyone else than the two of them. "My lady."

She gave a polite nod of her head when he grew close. "You've returned safely."

"I have." His gaze wandered around the area in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"I… I've missed you," she muttered.

His eyes looked to her and his brows pulled together. "Have you?"

"Well…" She looked down at her shoes. Was that even true? She didn't miss him. Not really. Well, she did in a way. Waiting to talk about the book. "Well, I found myself wanting to be with you as soon as I could." She swallowed and looked up at him. "Would that be considered missing you?"

" 'Being with me,' " he repeated as he thought it over. He squinted in contemplation before trying to clarify. "As in speaking with me or… other things?"

Her face flushed and her eyes looked right back down to the ground. 

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. His tongue ran along his teeth before clicking as he came to a conclusion in his mind. "An hour. My chambers."

It was a soft command. He never ordered her around. And if she chose to voice an opinion ever, she knew he'd consider it. He was a forceful man, but not like that. 

But when she made no motion against it, he chuckled. One of his hands came up to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "An hour. I'll even wash for you first." He pressed an emotionless kiss to her lips and stepped away, grabbing his horse's reins and beginning to speak to one of the other men.

An hour. That felt like too long to sit with her thoughts. But she'd manage. Somehow.

…

An hour later, she opened the door with her heart beating wildly. 

But upon seeing what laid inside, it died down.

Cregan laid in the large copper tub, his head laid back against the rim as he bathed: fast asleep.

She leaned on the door and studied him for a while. How easily the rough man became just as soft as anyone else. He seemed… at peace for once. That large crease that always laid between his brows was gone as he softly snored.

It's hard to make an heir like this. But he'd journeyed so far, and something like sex seemed dumb when he needed rest this badly.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, careful not to make a heavy sound. Her steps were quiet and careful, quickly guiding her to him and now she kneeled at his side. 

Her fingers dipped into the water. It was beginning to grow cold.

And judging by the light pruning of his fingers, he'd been there for a while.

Cregan often took his baths alone. He always refused the help of servants, even his wife, rather wishing to have this as his alone time.

She grabbed the cloth that lay over the side- unused, judging by its dryness, and dipped it in, beginning to lightly trail it over his chest. 

She took the time to study every scar across him. There were many and she had no doubt that he'd won each battle they belonged to. She had seen him sparring- she knew how formidable she was with a sword in his hand.

The water ran down his chest and dripped into the tub again. The sounds echoed in his room. Each seemed loud compared to the utter silence of the air.

She moved to the other side of the tub and cleaned him, now noticing the deep cut on his shoulder. Deep purple and green bruising laid around it. It looked quite painful. When she ran the cloth over it, he hissed and his eyes finally opened.

He took in the room, a sharp gaze that would make most men fearful. Once they set on her and he completely came to, they softened slightly. She saw the way they flickered from her eyes to the cloth in her hand. She waited for him to inevitably shoo her from the room.

"Has it been an hour?" He quietly asked. "I apologize. How rude of me." He pulled the rag from her hand. "And I've made you feel as if you have to clean me to make up for time lost that I now owe you. Well, sit and I will hurriedly finish, wife."

His words and movements caught her off guard. She was unsure what to say. 

"Go on," he motioned with a hand. "Sit and wait for me. Like you so patiently have."

"No," she finally countered. "Y- your shoulder. It looks painful. Let me."

Her hand grabbed for the rag, brushing his. The two seemingly froze in the moment. Cregan's deep eyes stared up at hers, as if taking her in for the first time. Finally, he shook his head. "It won't take long."

"I know. So, let me," she argued again.

He looked down to their hands, their fingers touching just barely. Slowly, his grip loosened and she was able to slip the cloth from him.

Silently, she took the acceptance and began to wash him again. She took extra care around the bruises now. When the cloth ran over them, the fingers of her other hand followed and paused. "Does it hurt?" She softly asked.

Cregan's eyes were glued to the water now, his fingers dipping in and out and watching the droplets fall back into the tub. "They always do."

"It didn't go well, I take it?"

He held water in his palm, cupped carefully as he studied it. "It went very well."

"This is very well?"

He tilted his hand and let the water escape down his arm with a sigh. His head tilted and he finally looked at her with a firm gaze. "The Wall is harsh. Even on its best days."

Having him stare at her so deeply made her chest flutter and she suddenly imagined how he might look at her while doing things from the book in the library. 

She dared a thought, bringing a hand up to his cheek. He watched her carefully. To think that she did this of affection was a ridiculous one. He must have something on his face.

But when her palm rested there, on his cheek, he began to think differently. It brought a strange feeling to his stomach.

Her hand rested there for a while and the two were unmoving. But when she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, he pulled his head away.

Her fingers pulled to her palm as she accepted the rejection and blinked away all thoughts. "Lean forward," she gently commanded.

He raised no fuss, pulling himself forward with a small groan. No doubt his muscles protested with each movement.

She focused now, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed and contracted each time he moved. 

The cloth ran across his back and few times, and he eventually sighed at the feeling. Her hand somehow applied just enough pressure to his aching back. And when she noticed and focused just above his shoulder blades, he let out an audible groan.

"Tense, Lord Stark?" She almost teased.

He didn't catch the teasing part though, too relaxed in this state. He only nodded and prayed that she'd continue.

She abandoned the cloth and began to fully massage his shoulders with her hands. It put the powerful man in a relaxed trance, and not one he cared to come out of anytime soon.

"I've been thinking," she spoke. "Well, do you think that… " she hesitated. "That maybe… maybe there's more to conceiving a child than… what we've been doing?"

There was a silence. It was suffocating and she was sure that she'd said the wrong thing. She would have swore he hadn't heard her, but the sudden tension in his back said so.

Finally, his head turned just a bit, revealing half of his face to her and he barely looked over his shoulder. "I think," he drew out, "you've been reading."

Oh. So he knew of the book.

She pulled away, as if burned and began to wring her hands as her nerves took over. "It was there… and… And I only thought… maybe-"

He laid back again the tub again to look at her. "Is that something you want?" He calmly asked.

Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak an answer. 

"Wife," he voiced a little sharper. "I asked you a question."

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Yes."

The corner of his lips tugged up and leaned his head back against the rim as before, closing his eyes. "So be it."

"W-" she stopped herself before creating any problems she didn't need. He'd agreed, and that was that.

With her confused presence, he opened his eyes and lulled his head to the side. "I'll apologize again for taking our time." His hand came out of the water to her, mimicking the way she had cupped his cheek early. "But after the feast?" His thumb ran over her lips, catching and pulling down her bottom lip. "You are mine to have."

…

She remembered something in the book about this. Foreplay, she recalled. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog and seeing the way it would drool in anticipation. 

Like quick glances, small touches, things that would signal to a partner that you wished to engage in sexual activities. 

Doing such things during a feast felt scandalous. But it filled her heart with a fire that she knew was traveling between her legs as well.

She had started it, brushing her hand with his as they ate. Then wiped at a bit of wine that had dripped down his chin. Then even daring to brush a hand across this thigh.

But that was earlier. Now, across the room from each other, she took other tactics. 

When she wasn't looking at whoever she spoke to, she looked at Cregan. Her eyes would wander from his face to his feet, a long gaze that took its time, and enjoyed every moment of it. And he was quick to notice it. When she was caught and his eyes were on her, she quickly looked away in mock embarrassment.

It worked wonderfully.

The rest of the evening, she felt his eyes on her and when she'd look back, he'd have a look that said he was ready to devore her whole. She felt her core almost drip with the adrenaline rushing through her.

Now, to act on it.

She caught his gaze again, keeping it and taking slow steps to the high table, hoping he'd get the hint to follow her. 

And perceptive he was.

She stood in front of her chair and reached down to her cup when his chest warmed her back. His hand reached over hers and seized her chalice as his voice spoke lowly in her ear. "Bid them goodnight. We are retiring."

She craned her neck to try to look at him. "We are the hosts-"

"-two minutes, and I'll carry you myself if I must."

His warmth disappeared, and he set her cup back down to the table.

A wide grin came to her lips.

…

The moment the door to his chamber closed, he pushed her against the wall. His lips chased her with a heat like she was the air he needed to breathe. His hands pulled at the fabric on her shoulders, so eager to undress and ravish her.

Her hands did the same, pulling at the strings of her doublet. But it was hard to do so through Cregan's heavy hands tugging her this way and that. 

Soon enough, cold air rose goosebumps across her skin. Cregan paused, only for a moment, letting his eyes wander over her. And for the first time, lust was evident in his pupils.

His lips consumed hers once more, his tongue delving past her teeth to hurriedly explore. His hands and hers both pulled at his clothes. 

With his chest bare, he deemed that enough for now. He picked her up and took her to the bed, dropping them both to it and holding himself above her with one hand. His lips moved to her neck now, sucking at the skin. And her small hitch of breath encouraged him.

Soon he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down his trousers and throwing off his boots. His eyes never strayed from her body. How beautiful she was. Now he really noticed.

His hands found her ankles. He pulled her down to the edge of the bed.

She began to notice how he'd began to go back into their routine from before.

He stepped between her legs and propped her hips up a bit, lining his cock with her cunt and beginning to force his way in.

Her jaw clenched and her nose inhaled sharply. She was never used to that first push. 

Her mind wandered to the night before with the book. She had went on to get three fingers in and without pain. She knew it was possible to avoid this if they went slowly. And the pleasure she had felt yesterday was inexplainable.

"Cr-Cregan," she panted out.

His eyes snapped up to hers. They never spoke during this. There was never anything to talk about. 

"I want to… to do it differently," she managed out.

He pulled out from her, holding her legs steady as he gave her a questioning gaze. "What did you read in that thing?" He finally asked.

"I want… I want to be… above," she tried to explain. "You lay down and I… I will do the work."

He was hesitant, understandably so, but he was hard enough now that he didn't quite care how it happened. He just needed a release.

So he laid himself on the bed, his eyes almost bulging out with the way she straddled him so confidently. 

She brushed against his manhood, and he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he tried to take back control. But her own hands pulled his away. She gave him a look that warned him to let her try it.

She sunk down onto him this time. The pressure was there, but it was different. More bearable this time. And at her own pace, she took her time to adjust to him until his pelvis met hers. 

Cregan's eyes were closed in bliss, and she took that as a sign to continue. She pulled her hips up and sunk back down, and a whine left her mouth without realizing it. It felt… good. Sex with Cregan felt good.

His hands trailed back up to her hips, more gentle this time. He guided her hips in a back and forth motion and a sinful moan escaped from him.

She continued it as he wanted, leaning down to brace herself on his chest. With this new motion, she could find a little pressure to her clit, and it brought a whole new wave of pleasure.

The motions quickened as the two began to explore the idea that maybe… just maybe… they liked this.

If their moans had any indication.

She felt a tightening in her lower stomach, something she remembered from yesterday. She wondered if Cregan could feel it from inside.

And he could. It created a resistance that had him almost drooling with how well it felt. How good she made him feel.

"Let me fill you," he voiced in a beg. It hadn't intended to come out that way, but it did. Cregan was begging.

"I w~" the words caught in her throat. "I want you to fill me," she managed. "Give me a child, Cre~"

The words died altogether on her lips as her orgasm washed over her. The one from her fingers yesterday was nothing compared to this. She felt it throughout her body like spring that had finally snapped. 

Cregan's eyes were open and wide at the feeling of her cunt around him now, spasming with the aftermath of her orgasm. It felt amazing, and he had cursed himself for never discovering it before.

And now that he had, he wouldn't forget it. 

Her cunt milked him for all he had, and he happily gave it to her, releasing himself with a heavy groan.

The two slumped on the bed, Cregan's arms wrapped around his wife's frame. Neither were eager to move from their positions, not even as he softened inside of her or the liquid ran down her thighs.

Before, Cregan had held her up and made her keep it in. 

Now? He didn't care. He could always just fill her again.

He'd do anything to see the way her jaw dropped and her eyes glazed over again. 

"Thank you," she breathed against his neck.

There was a comfortable silence from him. Then finally, "I'll have that book read within the fortnight."

..........................................

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[drchucktingle]

From Chuck Tingle, author of the USA Today bestselling Camp Damascus, comes a new heart-pounding story about what it takes to succeed in a world that wants you dead. Misha is a jaded scriptwriter who has been working in Hollywood for years, and has just been nominated for his first Oscar. But when he's pressured by his producers to kill off a gay character in the upcoming season finale―"for the algorithm"―Misha discovers that it's not that simple. As he is haunted by his past, and past mistakes, Misha must risk everything to find a way to do what's right―before it's too late.

----

BURY YOUR GAYS cover has been released today and theres something TRULY INCREDIBLE about it, something that bends timelines and melts away the edges of the void and brings tears to my eyes. can you see it? let me explain in a thread as you PREORDER NOW... 

for nearly ten years i have been publishing my stories despite pushback that they are too odd. us buckaroos are the outsiders, but this community has kicked open the door for art that is sincere and strange and beautifully unique. that is my trot and that is OUR trot as buds

we came out of nowhere and made CAMP DAMASCUS a usa today bestseller. every step of the way that book overperformed. buds were CONFUSED that a book from ‘silly meme erotica author’ could take flight. but us buckaroos knew it was inevitable because we know the power of love

i still recall the question ‘are you SURE you do not want a new horror pen name?’ HECK NO i am proud of the tingleverse. i am not ashamed of these queer erotic stories i drag up from bottom of my heart and spill with raw sincerity across irony poisoned timelines

i have been mocked my whole life as author that is ‘ridiculous no-content meme’ by those who have never read it. that my work is ‘not real’. i have been mocked for my autism and queerness and told THIS WOULD NEVER WORK. which brings me back to cover of my new book BURY YOUR GAYS

looks like the name chuck tingle is NOT a liability for the mainstream. all devils who doubted can gaze upon this cover and see bold CHUCK TINGLE staring back at them PROUDLY from the shelf in all its queer autistic glory... HOVERING ABOVE THE TITLE AND JUST AS BIG AND PROUD

thank you nightfire and chucks manager and chucks agent for believing in me. these buds have always had my back. thanks to BUCKAROO COMMUNITY who have always supported my way, this next step in our trot is not just about me IT IS ABOUT US. we kick open these doors together

so heres to making this world a little more unique and strange for those of us who are, ourselves, unique and strange. heres to bending timelines to us, instead of us bending to them. heres to name CHUCK TINGLE big and bold ABOVE the title on a big five traditional published book

and remember the best way to support an author, especially someone on outside pushing their way in, is to PREORDER THEIR BOOK. because of publishing business model it is SO IMPORTANT so if you would like to support chuck then PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS NOW

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 13 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If you don't make up soon, things will either escalate or stay that way forever. Which one would be worse?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, threatening, mentions and threats of suicide and self-harm, (rough) oral sex, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

It started off small.

The tension in his jaw. The clench of his fists. The way he lingered in rooms he had no reason to be in, as if expecting you to finally give in.

But you didn’t. And then his evil twin took over again. Just like that.

Your books went missing. From one day to the other, you woke up and when you stepped into the warmly-lit living room, you immediately realized it. The shelf was empty. He didn’t leave you a single one.

That same night, when you made your way back to your room in order to cry and weep yourself to sleep, you realized something else was missing. Your blanket had disappeared. The radiator was turned off. And when you tried to turn it back on, it stayed cold.

Eventually, the meal portions became smaller. For each meal, the plate stayed the same size, but it got emptier. In the end, it was hardly enough to feel full. Just enough to pick at it and feel incredibly sad.

And why?

Because he wanted a reaction. A word, a glance, a single sign that you were still there. That nothing had changed, that you still belonged to him. But for once in your life, you were being stubborn,  far too stubborn. The moment you realized he would punish you anyway, even if you did things the right way (you didn’t try to escape), you gave up. You gave him up. Gave up whatever it was between you two. Because there was one thing you wanted even more than him.

An apology.

Not your freedom. Not even your goddamn hair.

You wanted an apology.

You knew how incredibly stupid it was to assume he would ever break the façade of cold and ruthlessness, even if it was for you. And after all, he had done his best, hadn’t he? In his eyes, sure. He had.

He hadn’t apologized with words, of course. That was sheer impossible. But you saw it in his actions. The soft touches, the lingering glances. The hesitation in his grip. And the softness in his eyes.

The way he stood in the doorway of your room, night after night, watching and waiting. Brooding. Hoping, maybe.

At first, he tried to play along and approach the situation nicely. You’d wake up and find something sweet on your nightstand. A book even. Back when you told him what your favorite book was, he went and bought it. A hardcover book and what was even worse, an old one. Original cover, worn out pages. It smelled like an old bookstore. It smelled familiar. Like the only home you knew. Words. Phrases. Imaginary worlds.

The moment your eyes registered the title, you felt a sinking feeling in your chest.

Wuthering Heights.

You loved it especially, because, during the course of your twisted childhood, it allowed you some closure. It made your terrible home of Yorkshire feel like more of a home. The thought of Catherine Earnshaw running around the moors, Heathcliff yearning for her, their combined pain and their longing – it turned the battleground of your childhood into something beautiful, something romantic. Like your tragedy wasn’t the only that took place there. It was the birth of something beautifully sad.

At some point, you had told him about it. The meaning the book held to you and how you loved old book stores. Second hand pages and the smell of words.

Of course he remembered it. He was always considerate like that. And back in the day, when you found that beautiful book on your nightstand, covered in dark blue and the title in an innocent white, you almost broke the spell. You almost found yourself running back to him, forgiving him, being his girl.

How could you not? It was obvious that he felt something for you, wasn’t it? Even if he would have rather died than ever admitted to that.

But you stayed strong, for that one time in your life. You stayed true to yourself and the promise not to give in first. Let him feel that he hurt you. Let him feel that he broke your heart, just after he brought you back to life.

You stayed stern. Ignored him during every meal, even though you felt his gaze on you.

The blister stayed firmly in place as well. After you had woken up that one morning and found it on your nightstand, you first reaction had been to feel fear of course. You had almost forgotten about that. You still didn’t know what had occupied your mind to make you do that. What devil had possessed you to stop taking the pill?

He had been so loving at times, so gentle. Maybe it was that. You had felt too safe in his embrace. You didn’t want to ever leave it. And after all, he left you the choice of taking it, right? So, you stopped. Four days you took it and after endless, heated arguments with yourself in your head, you stopped.

Try and live for once.

Maybe something good will come of this, after all.

But then he locked you away. Cut your hair. He didn’t believe you. And suddenly, everything was different. He didn’t speak first. And, God, you wouldn’t be the first to speak, either. If he took every inch of your hair, if he took every last bit of you. You wouldn’t give in. Not you. Not this time.

Of course you missed him. Dearly. You spent your days longing and your nights yearning.

Catherine and Heathcliff.

But you had managed a lifetime without a gentle caress before. Why would you budge now, just because you knew it now?

 Eventually he got impatient. And he took the books. The blanket, the food. The warmth. He took your comfort and all the love you felt for him. You felt the loss of his touch, of his love, like a physical reaction in your body. Something was missing. And despite your anger and your resentment, despite the disappointment and the sadness you felt, there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, rest your head on his lap and have him read to in this painfully soft voice of his, that made you feel like you were home.

You knew he didn’t do it as a punishment. He wanted a reaction. A cry, a yell, an angry word, a fight even. Everything was better than this silence.

The silence was a living, breathing thing, that took up all the space in the apartment and pressed down onto your chest, hard enough to suffocate you. And to your immense satisfaction, he seemed to feel the same way. Until, finally, he snapped.

You sat hunched over your ridiculously tiny amount of rice and a small broccoli rose. Your stomach grumbled loudly and you knew this wasn’t going to help. But you sat in silence nonetheless and tried to savor every bite.

He stood at the counter and stared down at it, his hands gripping the edge tightly. And eventually, the silence broke.

You heard the crash before you saw it – his plate, shattered against the kitchen wall. You flinched and cowered, digging your nails into your palms painfully. But you still didn’t look at him. Until his voice cut through the silence in a low growl.

“Enough.”

It was enough to make you glance up, slowly and almost carefully. It was the first time that you looked at him in weeks. You had played this game for weeks. And now it was him who lost it.

“Say something.”

You were tempted to. But you stayed strong.

You took in his appearance, the way he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His eyes were bloodshot and his charming smile formed into a scowl. You suddenly realized, despite it all, you felt bad for him. You didn’t want him to suffer.

Behind that whole horrible mask, there was something human inside him. Someone who felt pain and who had been through a lot. Someone who had been betrayed and hurt, by the person who was supposed to protect him.

Just like you.

Someone who cared about you, in his own twisted way.

And yet you stayed stubborn.

“Say something!” He growled again and took a step closer to you. He was angry, you could tell as much, but he was also frustrated. Behind the fury in his eyes, there was also a hint of desperation. More than a hint, a whole lot, actually. Despite the growl which was tinged in anger, you heard the softness of a plea between his words.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Then you slowly unclenched your fists and looked down at the plate in front of you. He would never apologize. Because to do so, he would have to admit that he did something wrong. And he was far too proud for that. He was too full of himself. Also, he preferred getting angry for no reason. Apologizing wasn’t really his cup of tea.

You stayed silent and it tore at his soul. And hurting him hurt you.

When you still didn’t answer, he huffed in frustration and took another step closer. His stance was menacing and threatening. Even though you hadn’t felt the pain he could inflict on you in a few weeks now, your body remembered. It was hard to forget how the humiliation seeped into your bones like a cold, how his fist felt, whenever it connected with your body. The sound of the countless slaps to your cheek, which were echoing through the halls. The sound of your quiet despair.

He gritted his teeth and you knew, you were about to get reminded of it. Somehow you didn’t even expect it. It was almost like he had forgotten how touching you worked. After all, it had been a while. His movements seemed somewhat uncalculated. He reached out his hand above his head, but before he could land the first blow, he froze at the sound of your voice.

“I want to leave.”

Your voice was soft and gentle, small and timid, yet determined. It was such a contrast to his own anger. When he heard it, he stopped immediately. A part of him seemed relieved, like he hadn’t expected you to ever speak again. He seemed to savor the sound of your voice in his head. But by the time his brain registered your words, he frowned and slowly lowered his hand.

“What?”

You nodded and slowly looked up at him again. “I want to go. I want you to let me go. I want to go home.”

He scoffed. “This is your home.”

You shook your head. “I want to leave.” You said in the same, soft voice.

His frown deepened. “There’s no such thing. You knew the deal, when you accepted it. You belong to me. You’re not going anywhere.”

You took in the way he didn’t even look angry. Just frustrated and so very confused.

“I knew the deal. But I don’t want to stay.” You took a deep breath. “I don’t feel safe with you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, something that was equally dark as it was hurt. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected you to fight him or give in eventually, not for you to demand him to let you go. What a silly thing to hope for, right? But it was the only thing you could do.

“You don’t feel safe with me?” He all but spat out. He was disguising his pain very well behind a stony mask of anger and disgust. But you had known him for quite some time now and you slowly grew to lean the different masks and what he hid behind them.

“No, I don’t.” You said quietly. “I did everything right and I still got punished.”

He scoffed. “You tried to leave!”

“No, I didn’t!”

He gritted his teeth and eyed you up and down in a way that left you unsure how to feel.

“Yes, you did.” He spat out. “I had to kill that old bastard, because of what you did.”

His words made you flinch. “You had to?” The disbelief in your voice quickly turned back into anger. He couldn’t mean this. “You looked pretty content doing it!”

“What do you want to hear?” He hissed. “That I made a mistake? I didn’t. You made a mistake.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, but failed miserably. “I had the chance to leave. I even considered it. But I decided against it and I know that you know that!”

He clenched and unclenched his fists the whole time and you suddenly realized how lucky you were, that he hadn’t fully snapped yet. You were sure, by the end of the day you’d end up either dead or with some bone in your body broken. But so far, he did really well in his attempts to stay calm.

It was a dead end. He wouldn’t give in and the only way you could go back to oblivious co-existence was, if you gave in. But you still stood your ground and you realized just how good it felt.

“I saw you there. You stood right in front of the door. You looked at him and spoke to him, instead of- Instead of calling me and-“

That was the moment you realized something. Something that felt like a bucket of ice water on your head. Your heart squeezed tightly in your chest and the sinking, painful feeling of disappointment left you nearly breathless.

“You knew that I didn’t try to leave.”

The words were barely audible. You might as well have thought them in your head, but no. He heard you. You could tell by the way he stiffened and couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Oh my God!”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He growled and suddenly he looked very determined. But his eyes told another story. “You tried to leave!”

“Oh my God!” You jumped up and glared at him with every ounce of anger you could find in yourself. “Why the Hell did you cut my hair then?!”

He pointed his index finger at you. “Because you deceived me.”

You ignored his words, too caught up in a haze of disbelief and fury. “Why did you ignore me all this time?” You nearly asked yourself that. “And the fucking pill?! What business did you have placing it there, while I was asleep? You knew I didn’t do anything wrong! That’s why you hesitated! That’s why you were suddenly so nice to me!”

“Shut your fucking mouth or I will shut it for you!”

“What did you punish me for then?!” You felt angry tears sting your eyes as you took a step closer to him. The part of you that longed for him still did. You hadn’t felt him so close to you in weeks. The warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne surrounded you like a warm hug.

“You nearly killed me!” You snapped at him, very unlike yourself. Your sense of self-preservation was suddenly near-dead. All you wanted was for him to answer your question. “Why?!”

His expression was the same mix of frustration and anger. But his anger became more and more apparent. You knew he wouldn’t need much more and he would explode. Would he break your nose? Would he squash your kidney? Or would he finally finish what he started that day and choke you to death?

“One more word.” He hissed as he towered over you, ready to strike.

He hadn’t hit you yet. He wasn’t even yelling. He was just…

Was he just…

“Oh my God.” Your voice was barely audible, just a small whisper, hardly to be heard under the sound of his heavy breathing. “Oh my God, you didn’t punish me, because I tried to leave.”

He frowned and shook his head. “What are you fantasizing about now? What are you cooking up in your-“

“You did it, because of what I said to you.”

The second you realized it was the same second your anger suddenly vanished. You were obviously still angry. Mostly so, because he ignored you for so long, without really ignoring you. But you weren’t furious anymore. You were more…curious. Disappointed. And sad.

But the second you said it, you saw a brief flash of something in his eyes. You couldn’t quite tell what it was. You had seen that in him once or twice. But it always left as quickly as it came. And suddenly you were certain.

“You punished me, because of what I said to you.” You said firmly.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He scoffed. “Stop being an idiot. Stop acting like anything you could say to me would ever be enough to influence my actions. You’re nothing! I told you that! You’re-“

“Then let me go.”

He stopped and regarded you with a frown. But he was slightly calmer now, all the while you sounded almost panicked.

If he did all these vile things to you, when you were no more than a stranger to him…

What would he do to you, if you were more than that?

If he was comfortable around you?

And why on earth were you allowing it?

It was like someone suddenly pulled up a curtain in the fog that was your brain and you realized, something was wrong.

You had had no chance to escape your mother. After all, you had been no more than a child and she was your mother. Nowhere to flee and no one to rescue you. You spent your life begging and pleading and hoping to find a way to finally break free.

But this.

This.

You were letting it happen. It was you.

You were allowing this. You knew what he was doing to you and you still let him. You let him touch and kiss you and even take you.

Your first time had been with the same man, who slapped the living hell out of you. Who punched your gut and left you tied to the bed, your bladder ready to explode in pain and humiliation. The man who called you vile names. The man who committed heinous crimes on you. On your body and mind.

What were you doing?

What, for God’s sake, were you doing?

Your eyes widened impossibly and you backed away against the counter.

“I don’t want this.” You gasped out. “I don’t want any of this. I want to go home. Let me go home.”

His frown deepened. You suddenly realized, you had no idea who he was.

“Why are you suddenly…”

You saw yourself. Years from now. Tied to a bed, your body bruised and battered. Maybe there was a child on the way. Maybe you already had one. Or three. Or seven. Who could tell? Maybe you’d make a perfect baby machine. He wouldn’t let you go to the hospital to have your poor, little bastard children. No, he’d make you bear them alone, with no one to assist you but him.

And the children?

God, the children.

What would they have to go through? What kind of miserable life was right there, waiting for them to endure it? You were sure, your mother would probably look like a saint compared to him.

Years and years and years. No one ever got to go out. All they would know would be this place. They wouldn’t ever understand that there was a whole world outside, for them to explore. With kindness, with love. In a way where people’s motivation was positivity rather than fear. Where peace ruled and love didn’t equal pain.

You couldn’t do this, you suddenly realized.

You just couldn’t.

It didn’t take you longer than two seconds to reach for the block. He had stopped being careful around you approximately by the time you allowed him to use you as he pleased.

You forgot the way his lips felt on yours, the second your fingers curled around the handle of the knife.

His eyes shot open and he rushed forward, ready to beat you to it. He wouldn’t let you stab him, no matter how careful he was.

Silly man.

That wasn’t your intention.

You took a step to the side, your back pressed against the wall and raised your hand. The cold metal felt uncomfortable against your neck. The feeling was unwanted and unwelcome, but if it was indeed your only out, oh God, you would take it.

He froze in his tracks and his eyes widened to a nearly ridiculous degree. He stared at you like you were an alien and slowly held up his hands in a gesture that came close to surrender.

“What are you doing?” He asked in a soft voice. “Give me the knife.”

Your eyes were equally as wide as you stared up at him, the blade tightly pressed against your jugular.

It was funny, really. You remembered at least one time when it was him who did the exact same thing to you. But back then, he didn’t look as horrified. Instead, his brows were furrowed and his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. But now, he looked straight-up terrified.

“Let me go.” You whispered. “I want to go.”

“Darling.” He whispered back and took the tiniest step closer. When you pressed the blade even harder against your skin, he immediately stopped and raised his hands a bit.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay. I get it. You’re angry. I understand that. But-“

„I’m not angry!” You felt tears running down your cheeks. You had been here far too long.

“Okay. Whatever it is that you are, please listen to me. Give me the knife.”

“Why do you care?” You hissed. “After all, it was you who almost killed me!”

He took a slow breath and nodded. “I know. But I didn’t, did I?”

“No.” You gritted out. “And why not? What stopped you? What did I say to you, that made you stop?”

He frowned. He was getting impatient, you could tell. “Set the fucking knife down, do you hear me? You don’t make the rules around here.”

But you weren’t trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t even trying to prove any point. Not anymore. All that you wanted was some clarity.

What was going on inside your head?

You choked out a sob and with a shaky hand, pressed the blade harder against your skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“No!” He rushed forward, ready to yank the knife away and shake you back to your senses.

You huffed furiously and took another step away from him, shooting a glare his way.

“Let me go.” You demanded firmly.

“I can’t!” You didn’t expect the way his voice suddenly cracked. It happened so fast and was so unlike him, that your brain hardly registered it.

His gaze was fixed on the small droplet of blood that was trickling down your throat, but you hardly felt the pain. Your chest heaved rapidly and you took a deep, slow breath.

You had to get your answers. You had to get out. Or you had to die. It was the only outcome.

“I…”

You looked at him, your expression trying to gauge what he was thinking. Was he getting angry? Impatient? Was he having violent thoughts? Was he more than ready to make you pay for this?

But his expression was soft. Almost pleading. And you suddenly realized, it was not a trick.

“Please.” He said so quietly that you nearly missed it. “Just stop.”

Please?

Your breath caught in your throat, when you heard the desperation in his soft voice. His bloodshot eyes were so wide and terrified, it was unlike anything you had ever seen in him. He looked so helpless that you nearly pitied him. This wasn’t the same man. It couldn’t be. What had changed?

The only thing that could be heard were your breaths mingling in the cramped space of the kitchen. He kept stalking closer and closer, until your chest nearly touched his. And this time, you didn’t back away. He didn’t seem like a threat for once. He seemed…broken.

“You’re right.” He suddenly whispered. You felt his breath tickle your skin and everything else seemed to fade away. Nothing mattered anymore. Your body longed for him. Yearned for him.

“You’re right. I knew you didn’t try to leave. I always knew.” He whispered and reached out a hand. It hovered above yours, you felt its warmth even through the air. Just a few inches and he’d get you. But you didn’t care about the knife. All you cared about was his hand, gently wrapping around your own. The moment his palm brushed over the back of your hand, you were done for.

You were weak.

The curtain fell back into place.

And the fog, it was heavier than ever.

He held your hand with such gentleness and care, that you hardly even understood what he was doing, until he did it. What he was saying.

To what he just admitted.

“When I saw you standing there…That man right there, ready to take you away.” He swallowed and shook his head, all the while his fingers gently moved yours out of place and he finally wrapped them around the handle of the knife. “It didn’t matter to me if you tried to leave or not. All that I saw was that…You were nearly gone.” He breathed.

The knife fell to the floor with a loud thud. He then kicked it away until it bumped against the opposite wall.

“All that I saw were you. Gone. And God, I…God, I…” His voice was barely more than a breath. And his lips were so close to your own, that you could almost taste them.

His brows furrowed and he used the same hand to gently cup your cheek in his hand.

“You can’t leave me. I can’t let you go. I can’t lose…” He stopped himself.

It took you weeks, tears and anger to realize. He wasn’t angry.

He was afraid.

“Why not?” You whispered breathlessly.

He bit his lip. “Stop this.” He hissed. “I know what you’re trying to do here.”

You slowly shook your head, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “Why not?” You whispered again. You leaned even closer and now it was you who initiated the contact. The moment you felt his body pressed against yours, you were done for. You had spent so many hours craving and dying to feel him again, asking yourself why, what did I do wrong? And now he was here and he was so desperate and God, you were, too.

You never actually wanted to leave anyway, did you? It was just your way of provoking a reaction.

That was what you told yourself.

“Tell me why not.”

He opened his mouth and hid his feelings behind a deep frown. He was obviously still very deep in the game of denial. And you weren’t going to be the one to pressure him. After all, he had his own things going on. You didn’t understand them, but you knew they were there. So, instead of waiting for his answer, you tilted your head up and brushed your lips over his. The touch was barely there, it was so soft and subtle that your body hardly recognized it as a kiss. But when you kissed, he made the most desperate sound you had ever heard. His eyelids fluttered and he dipped his head forward. Craving.

He was your Heathcliff.

He was your desire, your love and your tragedy.

He was all the bad there was in the world, when you live in a world full of darkness. But within the dark, he was also the light that painted the apricot walls of the halls you found yourself in into a warm white. Into all the good in the world. Into a world of warmth.

Warm. Good. Perfect.

A soft shiver ran down your spine when you felt him press against you, desperate for more. But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, give it to him. Not yet. Despite the way your body craved his touch, you found yourself pulling back ever so slightly.

A strangled sound grumbled in his chest, like he was moments away from having his way with you, any way you could imagine.

But to your great surprise, he didn’t. He didn’t force anything on you, despite his frustration. His need was so apparent, you felt it in the way he breathed and you saw it in the way his eyes bore into yours. But he held himself back.

All for you.

“I didn’t try to leave.” You whispered. It was the one thing that was still between you, quiet and brooding, but oh-so obvious. He had hurt you. He had hurt you far worse than he had so far. Not because of the hair you lost, not because of the way he almost strangled the life out of you.

You had expected these.

But what you didn’t expect was for him to ignore you and make you feel like you did something wrong, when you didn’t.

“I know.” He said after a while. He sighed deeply and gently pressed his palms against your hips, holding you in a tight, near-bruising grip. His fingers dug into your flesh with an intensity that quickly reminded you of how much he needed you. It wasn’t like you were deliberately trying to tease him. You just needed…

“Forgive me.”

Your head jerked up and you stared at him speechlessly.

“You…You’re saying…”

“It was my fault.” He said very quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

Your heart nearly burst in your chest as you stared up at him. You couldn’t tell how sincere he was being. But then again, would he really say that, if he didn’t mean?

Would he say that at all? To anyone else? Ever?

You inhaled shakily and parted your lips in order to make any sound, but there was nothing. Your head was empty. All that there was, was him.

He leaned forward and pressed you against the wall behind you with the weight of his body against yours. His head dipped forward and his lips grazed your earlobe as he spoke.

“Can you forgive me, my sweet girl?” He whispered.

Your eyelids instinctively fluttered shut, when his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your ear. A hard shiver shook your body and you bit your lip to keep yourself from making any more sinful sounds.

“I…Yes.” You whispered back. “Yes, of course.”

He hummed softly and slowly ran his hand along your back, up your shoulders, until his fingertips carefully ran up the side of your neck. He felt the drop of blood on your skin and released a low growl.

“No one gets to hurt you”, he gritted out, “no one, but me. The rule applies to you, too.”

Your eyes stayed shut and you inhaled softly, when his fingertips slowly ran along the small wound. You had almost forgotten about that.

“I don’t know, if I should punish you for misbehaving…or take good care of you, because my darling girl is hurt.”

Your chest heaved rapidly and it only ever got worse, when his hand slowly wandered down along your chest. His hand was flatly pressed against it, like he was feeling your heartbeat. Which seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

“Your heart is racing.” He whispered. “Are you nervous?”

You nodded breathlessly. It had been a while since he last touched you. You had lived in the memory, of course. A few times even more so than you dared to admit. You weren’t normally an overly sexual person (or at least you thought so.) But the nights without him got harder and colder, so that you caught yourself a few times, with your mind on him and your hand wandering down your body.

Pathetic, you thought. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I missed you.” You whispered, before you could stop yourself.

Of course you expected a satisfied smirk or even that he made fun of you in some way. But instead of being condescending, he hummed softly and breathed another kiss against your lips.

“Show me how much.”

You bit your lip in thoughtful hesitation. A part of you was nearly there, ready to ask How?

But another part of you, a part that you only ever had gotten to know after you met him…That part wanted to be daring.

And wicked.

And even fucking naughty.

You took a shaky breath and leaned in, meeting his lips halfway. This time, he didn’t give you the opportunity to back out. His mouth dominated yours in a deep, desperate kiss. His tongue forced your mouth open and began exploring the warmth of it, meeting yours in a wicked dance.

The moan that reached your ears was enough to make your legs go weak and the fabric of your underwear grow damp.

Slowly and tentatively you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Closer.

Your leg around his waist.

Closer.

You felt the bulge in his pants press and rub against your heat in a way that made you moan in return. God, you were hungry. Hungry for him.

He bit your lip almost hard enough to draw blood and when a pained whimper left your lips, his arousal only seemed to grow and he responded with a low growl.

He pulled his head back and regarded you with a long, intense look.

“I missed you being fucking naughty for me. Look at me.” His hand shot out and he slapped your cheek, before you even realized it. You didn’t even have the time to be surprised about it, because an involuntary moan came over your lips in response.

“Good girl. Be a good girl for daddy.” He breathed. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obeyed without question, parting your lips to allow two of his fingers entrance. Your eyes were half-lidded and desperate as you stared up at him, while he rubbed his fingers over your tongue.

“Suck on them, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

Your lips closed around them and you began teasing him with your tongue, sucking on his fingers lightly. His eyes immediately darkened and you were sure you felt the hardness between his legs throb.

“My good girl.” He murmured. His free hand wandered down your body, until he cupped one of your breasts and squeezed it lightly. He hummed in response and tore at your dress with impossible strength. It didn’t take long for the material to give in. You ignored the slight pain the friction brought you, because a moment later, he pulled back and ran his tongue along your now exposed breast and sucked on the peak, causing you to arch your back and moan.

“Oh God.” You breathed. “Oh God, please.”

“Beg me.”

“I’m begging you. Please. I need you.”

“Good girl.”

He hummed again and gently nibbled on your skin, before his lips wandered up and found the uninjured side of your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access and he made good use of it, because he kissed every inch of your neck and lightly bit down it. When he did, you moaned again. And you also moaned when he bit down on your earlobe, hard enough to hurt.

You were a puddle under his touch, ready to melt, mindless. He did the thinking for you.

“Touch me.” He breathed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. In a fit of courage, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to undress him fairly quick. The sight was enough to make you go into a frenzy. You leaned in and brushed your lips along his neck and down his bare chest. Every sound he made, motivated you further. Your tongue glided along his flawless skin and flicked against his stomach, making him arch his back in return.

“My naughty girl.” He murmured. “Did you miss me that bad?”

You nodded absentmindedly, licking a path up his toned torso.

“Look at me.”

You froze, before you quickly pulled back your head and looked up at him with wide eyes. He sounded so stern and determined, like he had just detected some kind of flaw in you, a mistake you made.

Please, you thought to yourself, however you want to punish me, please don’t go back to ignoring me.

He didn’t. Instead he gently ran his thumb along your lower lip and murmured: “How do you want me?”

Your face instantly flushed as you were pulled back into the abyss of your desire. “I…”

“If you don’t choose, I will.”

“Taste you”, you gasped out half a second later, “I want to taste you.”

His eyes darkened even more and he looked at you with a mixture of untamable desire and something akin to pride.

“On your knees.” He growled.

You were on your knees, before you realized it. He undid his belt with nimble fingers and you felt the leather wrap around your wrists. You didn’t protest. If anything, it turned you on even more. He wasn’t being rough about. Not tonight. It was almost like he was trying to decipher if this was what you wanted. After all, it had been a complicated few weeks. He had mistreated you. But you forgave him. And now, now he was trying to be the good guy. At least this once, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being too rough.

When you didn’t protest and only ever licked your lips in response, he exhaled a soft growl and slowly undid his pants. You watched him with a keen eye and parted lips. You had imagined and remembered the way he looked, the way he felt. But it was nothing compared to the reality of it.

His slacks landed by his ankles and you were greeted by the sight of his hardened length, throbbing and needy for your touch.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue, while the fire in your body only ever became bigger, hotter and far harder to put out, until it was near impossible.

He took a step closer and you felt him press against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled sharply. Just a second later you felt him rub his tip along your tongue, causing him to groan. And you moaned in response.

It was very unlike yourself to be so wicked and let go of any inhibitions like that. But in that moment, you were so terribly desperate, you would have done anything for him. And you wanted him, needed him. Badly.

So, when he began to move and slowly push forward into your mouth, you let him guide your movements, but you acted just the same. He pushed forward, but you pulled back just enough to spit down at his length. He moaned in response and he moaned even louder, when you began to coat him in your saliva, right before you took him back into the warm, soft and wet embrace of your mouth.

His fingers tangled in your hair and he held your head in place, as he began to thrust forward and use your mouth to his own pleasure. His pace quickly became punishing. He was impatient, you could tell. He was desperate, just as desperate as you were.

Had he touched himself and thought about you? God, the thought drove you mad. And suddenly, you felt even more wicked.

You strained against his bruising grip and pulled your head back. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he allowed you, a frustrated groan on his lips.

“Did you touch yourself?” You breathed. “Did you think about me?”

His eyes widened briefly, but then they got surrounded by darkness again. “You stopped to ask me that fucking obvious question?”

“Say it.” You whispered. “Please, I want to hear it.”

“Every night.” He gritted out. “I touched myself every night, thinking about. The only way I could ever cum was when I imagined that I aimed for your face. Your lips. Your tight, little- Fuck!”

You didn’t give him time to finish his thoughts, because you resumed the movement and took him back between your lips, teasing and flicking, licking and sucking on his throbbing member, until the way his eyes rolled back nearly became audible.

You could hardly breathe and he kept his hard grip on the back of your head, while he used your mouth and breathed out sweet words and curses.

“My beautiful…beautiful girl…My cumslut…My whore…My dirty, little…My brainless…Ah, fuck…”

The way he throbbed inside your mouth was enough for you. You were dripping wet and you needed him. With a soft plop, you pulled your head back, which earned a hard look from him.

“Fuck me.” You gasped out breathlessly, your voice horse from the way he had just ravaged your throat. “Please, fuck me. I need you.”

He growled in response and immediately reached down to undo his belt from your wrists. A short moment later, he yanked you up to your feet and pushed you against the wall.

“How?” He growled.

“How what?” You croaked out.

“How do you want me to fuck you? Decide or I will!”

You opened your mouth.

“Too late.”

He picked you up as though you weighed nothing, making you gasp out in surprise. And then he carried you in a direction that made no fucking sense.

The balcony.

You never thought about the balcony, because after all, it wasn’t real in your book. You didn’t get to open the door or try and breathe real air, so why bother to act like it was real?

But he carried you that same way and before you knew it, he pressed something against the sensor by the side of it – a chip? Was it a chip? A card? – and the door opened.

You nearly cried. Oh no, you did cry.

He carried you outside and suddenly you felt the cold air hit your skin. The same air you had missed out on for weeks. Was it months? At least eight weeks. Two months.

It was dark and cold outside, but the city ahead was shining in countless different colors and lights. You had almost forgotten where you were, which country this was. It was so very different from the sight you had grown up to see from your window every night. The cold fog, the storms, the moors. This was different. Another world.

You were different.

You were his girl.

He pressed you against the railing and you choked out a sob. Real air. You breathed real air.

He pressed himself against you from behind, his lips grazing your ear. “How is this?” He breathed.

You swallowed thickly and tried to come up with a response, but it was impossible. You were so high up in the sky and yet you felt like everything was right. Like you were hovering above the sidewalks, the busy streets, the cobblestones.

“Thank you.” You breathed out. “Thank you.”

You heard the way he smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He yanked your dress up, until it pooled around your hips. For a moment you had forgotten how badly you wanted him, but when he pressed a finger against your soaked panties, you remembered it again. You inhaled sharply. You would have closed your eyes under the sensation, but you had to keep them open. You didn’t know when or if you would get to see the real world again, so you wanted to savor every moment. The cars, the bicycles, the life down there.

“Make space for daddy.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you held onto the railing tightly, while you slowly spread your legs further for him. He ripped your panties apart, the sound echoing through the dark of the night.

You felt him press the tip against your entrance, slick and ready, to needy to go slow.

“Oh, baby, look at me.”

You didn’t hesitate to look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He looked more desperate than you had ever seen him before. And when he finally pushed forward and claimed you as his once again, you had to choke back another sob. Of relief, of need, of desire.

And love.

It felt like the first time again, because it had been so long. He pushed forward slowly, taking his time to fill your body with his. A strangled sound came from your throat and he joined you in that. His head fell forward until he managed to press his forehead against yours.

“My darling, my love.” He breathed out.

My love.

This time, he didn’t take it back. He didn’t even seem to realize. And you didn’t feel the need to pretend not to have heard.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned out and captured your lips in another kiss. He began to slowly quicken the pace, pulling back, just enough so that he got to thrust into you again with renewed strength and ferocity. You moaned with every thrust he gave and you moaned louder, when you felt his fingers press against your clit and rub it.

I love you. God, the words were on the tip of your tongue. I love you.

But you stayed quiet between your moans and gasps, only being interrupted by his groans and grunts.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He repeated. “I want to fuck you all night.”

His pace became punishing yet again and he bent you over the railing. Your head fell forward and you arched your hips against him, seeking more.

He hit every right spot and his fingers against your skin were enough to make you writhe. You moaned breathlessly, the sound mingling with his grunts of pleasure. A few particularly hard thrusts were all it needed from him, to send you over the edge. You nearly screamed out your release when it hit you. It felt so warm against the cold of the night, his warmth seeping into your skin and bones, his hardness sending you into oblivion. Your walls clenched around him, making him go insane. It was all he needed to go over the edge with you. He came with a low growl, filling you with his seed, while your body practically milked his orgasm out of him. He gave another hard thrust and fucked his own release back inside you, causing you to gasp out in a mixture of relief and overstimulation. It felt heavenly and you didn’t want him to ever stop.

Once the both of you slowly came back down from your high and you stopped gasping for air, he tangled his fingers in your hair and gently pulled your head back. He rested his chin on your shoulder and breathed against your ear. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked at the scene in front of you again.

You wanted this. For the rest of your life.

Him. Only him. And the rest would follow.

“I’ll stay like this for a little while longer.” He whispered. “I know that you like it.”

You slowly closed your eyes, your face flushing in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He smiled slightly.

“You still get flustered. God, you’re sweet.”

He sounded so…normal. So gentle, so sweet, so teasing, like a normal partner would, like a lover would.

You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his warmth and his scent, which surrounded you like a warm blanket.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You whispered. He hummed and buried his face in your neck.

“What a silly question, my sweet girl. I’m far from done with you.”

__________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @luvr4miya

Author's note: Hey, sweet people! I'm sorry the chapter took me so long this time! IMPORTANT: A great part of it was inspired by sweet @hayakamis-blog

First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🎉🎁🤍 I said it already, but I'll keep saying it, hehe

She wrote a lovely text which inspired a whole lot of this chapter and I'll link it here, so you can see for yourself, which you totally should!

The second thing is, I'm HELLA tired, so I'm not sure if I've proof-read it correctly...Also, my eyes are closing already, so I'll just finish the upload and hopefully answer all your lovely messages by tomorrow!

I'm sorry if it sometimes takes a while for me to respond. My depression has been rather cruel on me lately, so I sometimes find myself struggling to get things done. But you still motivate me sooo much and I really love you for that. It's a great light in the middle of darkness. So, that was enough of that for now. I love you all to the moon and back! Yours eternally,

Lana 🤍

[ladybyakuya]

| SIDE EFFECTS + SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

+cw. — fem!reader, established relationship, ( domestic ) fluff, love & comfort, slight angst, mature language, atsumu being atsumu, mention of hinata and bokuto. beta-read by my beloved ray.

+wc. — 1.2k 

+syn.—  Sakusa has gotten used to you pretty quick ever since he started living with you but now that he has known the bliss, he does not want to go back to living alone.

+notes. — this is for flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for a prompt: quality time hosted by @spookuna. mdni cuz im eighteen plus blog.| redirect to blog navigation. & tagging @tetzoro for poking my pineal glad with a question that became a inspo for this <3

For almost a month, Kiyoomi has had an odd extension of routine that starts after his matches. It starts with going straight home ( to you ), and eating the dishes you made for him which was suggested by a dietitian of course! and then wait at least one hour before hitting the shower, and that too, a cold one since right after he is done drying himself he jumps into bed just to hold you amongst his chest like a hot bag; this . . .this particular moment is what he has been looking forward to for months and now it has finally become a part of his life, and if things do not go south then it might just last for the rest of his life. Just barely thinking of it gets him wide awake. If life was a sleepless dream, then he would not mind sleeping forever at the end of it with you.

Today, however, everything turned upside down. He came home a little late, just a little; ate silently without talking much. Generally, he turns into a yapper right when he sees you. He has so much to talk about yet even with all that bubbling enthusiasm he still does not forget to ask, “Babe, how was your day?”, “Aw, babe that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”, “What? Need me to scare the manager? Because I can.” he says while flexing his muscles wearing nothing but a towel around his torso but you know he won’t do that since he has the confidence that you can handle anything all by yourself. After all, you scared the shit out of Miya when you first met him and he will not accept but, indeed, Miya is not easily scared, especially by girls. However, this evening his responses were full of— “umm.” and “umhm” — nods and sneaking glances. The Kiyoomi that is reserved for the world has come home to you today. 

And that one-hour gap, between his dinner and shower, which is generally filled with listening to you as you roam around the house and work and he follows you like a puppy is filled with frequent calls, messages, and screen time today. It sure makes you worry if not disappointed or angry. It has been a month since you two started living together, so this one hour has always been filled with making this small apartment a place that you both could call “home.” Things were slowly falling into place, turning this place into a home. You were happy, and Kiyoomi? He was the happiest man in the world. 

However, crest-fallen.

Sakusa came out of the bathroom freshly showered when you were folding his clothes. Now that he can see your back properly without any thoughts lingering in his mind you look tired, sad, and perhaps. . . a little annoyed. Maybe it is not a good time to tell you the news after all but what else he can do, he does not have much time left either. He tip-toes his way towards you, slowly.

“C’mon out with it, omi. What’s up?” You say and turn towards him with a bunch of his clothes in your hand only to face a half-naked Sakusa, a pink towel wrapped around his torso, his hands in the air branching out in a form of embrace. You chuckle as you walk off to his closet but his stance remains intact just his head following you; 

his jaw drops as he enquires with utmost curiosity, “How do you always know?” which earns him just an endearing glance from you. You keep the stack of his clothes on the shelf, one by one as he finally says what has been bothering him. “I have to move out. . .to Osaka.” You had to pause before keeping the last t-shirt on the stack of clothes. Your hand is still on the edge of the closet wooden frame since you know the moment you close it— is the moment you have to face such a warped reality where you would be alone in this newly bought apartment, with no omi to wait for, cook for, or take care of. . . 

As if he could read your thoughts he mumbles sharply. “Babe, turn around.” He must be still in that pink towel. The air conditioner is on but it seems that he does not mind the cold today. You slowly turn around closing the cupboard with your hands at the back biting your lower lip in anticipation thinking if Kiyoomi had to tell you about moving out to you, then he must have tried all the possibilities of either staying here with you or taking you with him yet none of them must have worked because if it had, you two would not be standing so apart like two curtains drawn apart. 

“Oh dear God,” Kiyoomi groans as he clutches your wrist pulling you into himself. He makes you sit on the edge of the bed while he sits on the floor, legs folded keeping his head on your lap as he draws lazy patterns on the side of your thighs with both hands, simultaneously. “I never thought I’d fall in love even though I’ve planned it in my notebook ever since I was a kid.” He turns his head up, “Now that my love is here I want to keep it, safe, forever.” The water from his hair has left spots on your long tee. You run your nails through his scalp and he lets out a low even groan saying, “So, I took a week off to spend time with you and of course to get the packing done.” He has to rake his eyes open since the exhaustion blended with being sleepy along with your tender touch is too tempting not to give in.

“What?” You ask, surprised. “You did it for me?”

“Yeah. ‘course. Why wouldn’t I?”

A black pup tip-toes its way into the room and both of you watch it walk till it halts right at your feet wagging its tail, tongue hanging out of its mouth. Both of you look at each other, and then a familiar voice turns up, “We’re here love birds.” Sakusa rolls his eyes before turning around and grabbing your bathrobe to wrap himself up probably because now his senses are back enough to let him know how chill the temperature of the room is. You put your palms over your cheeks, it has become warm again, as you look at the pup. 

Just when you crouched down to pat the pup, Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto followed into your shared bedroom. 

“So, what’re you gonna name him?” Miya asks with a big grin plastering on his face.

“Kiyo!”

“Heyyyyy.” Naturally, Sakusa protests. Bokuto and Hinata share a look holding back their laughter. 

“Well, I call you Omi when I need something from you, or when I’m angry with you and I call you Mr. sakusa when we—you struggle to put your thoughts out in words so Atsumu interjects. 

“ —fuck.” He is still grinning. What’s he so happy about?

“Yeah. that.” you point at him while keeping your eyes still on Kiyoomi. “So, I don’t see a problem calling him Kiyo.”

[zeppelinlvr]

Still Feel Like That

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you accompany Dean, Sam, and Bobby on a hunt. You and Dean go out for a drink and Dean looks after you when you've had too much to drink.

Notes: Reader is a yapper (cus same), kinda implied that reader is Bobby's kid but it's not stated outright, sorry if you like Poison or Bret Micheals reader hates on them for a second, I assumed that Dean switched out his radio with one that would be compatible with cassettes since a 67' would likely have a 8 track player, I got lazy with my research so I apologize if any facts are incorrect (feel free to correct me).

Warnings: Suggestive language, flirting, cursing, mentions of throwing up, y/n is used like three times, Dean in his undies (yummy!)

Word Count: 4.1k

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You sat at Bobby’s old wooden table, sipping hot coffee from your Garfield mug. You didn’t own it but when you saw the grumpy orange cat with a text saying ‘I'm listening I just don’t care’ sitting on Bobby’s shelf of mismatched old mugs you’d used the cup ever since. 

You sat in your pajama shorts, slippers, and an old tee shirt, the cracked text reading “Winfield national flatpickin’ championships”. The shirt previously belonged to Bobby and he couldn’t remember how he acquired such an item, he assumed he was passing through Kansas and picked it up along the way, but you loved it so much he felt it was necessary to give it to you. 

You were reading through a book you had picked up on demonology. Bobby had given you a few vague events that had occurred and you were trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with. You had a book on Pagan gods on standby. 

You heard the front door open, figuring it was Bobby you chose to continue reading but when you heard unfamiliar voices you quickly looked up in a panic, nearly knocking your chair over to try to scramble and find Bobby. You were not a hunter by any means, you just did the research and stayed in the comfort of motels. You knew some basic self defense but you could not fight a serious threat on your own.

You were making a dash for the nearest room when you heard Bobby yell your name. 

You quickly spun around to look at him, seeing two tall, handsome, potentially dangerous, men standing next to him. 

“What the hell are you doing kid?” Bobby asked you, concerned by your panic stricken expression.

“I heard people- and I was trying to find you and not die” You uttered out, still confused about who the two other men were. “Sorry, who the hell are these guys” you added 

“Sam and Dean I talk-” Bobby started but you cut him off 

“Winchester?” you asked excitedly “Bobby talks about you two all the time and I really wanted to meet both of you, especially Dean, Bobby says you make stupid decisions but you sound fun” you rambled quickly, a smirk growing on the shorter ones face at your mention of him. 

“Oh my god you have to be Sam, you totally have that sad puppy look” you said to the taller one “You could ask me to donate my life savings to a charity then build a shelter for the homeless and I totally would” you continued to talk.

“I like her” the shorter man who you had now assumed was Dean said with a grin 

“Wait Dean” you started turning to him “Did you drive your car here, I’ve heard rumors it's a totally awesome 67’ impala and I’ve been dying to see it” 

Before Dean could respond with a comment about how you were marriage material Bobby interrupted your rambling “Okay motor mouth, I’m sure Sam and Dean are enthralled by your commentary but they need our help” 

“Are you the super smart Y/n?” Sam asked 

“The one who has saved our asses more times than we can count” Dean added

“Yes, that's her, and I don't prefer to shout about her to the whole world because she's not exactly Hulk Hogan” Bobby said, growing slightly annoyed with the continued blabbering. 

“Really? Hulk Hogan? You have to compare me to that doofus, call me Bret Micheals while you’re at it” You shot at him 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be Kerry VonErich” Bobby sighed 

“Yes, minus his incredibly tragic life” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Bobby why have we not met this chick sooner, she's awesome” Dean said slightly in awe. 

“You two don't care to stop by all that often and I knew you and her would get along real well and we wouldn't get anything done” Bobby responded hinting at the exact situation that was happening. 

“Let me see Dean’s car then I promise I will be productive” you offered

“Yeah let her see my car” Dean added, Sam smiling at the situation and Bobby rolling his eyes and reluctantly agreeing. 

The four of you made your way outside and when you saw the impala you let out a gasp of excitement before sprinting towards it. 

“She is so beautiful” you gushed to Dean “You keep her in phenomenal condition, does she run well?” 

“Like she’s new” Dean responded, smiling at your excitement over the car. 

“Is there an 8 track player? I have a few tapes I could give you if you want” You offered 

“Switched it out for a cassette player” Dean told you

“Good choice, 8 tracks are such a hassle, you can hear another song playing in the background of whatever you're trying to listen to, and don't even think about trying to fast forward to get to the song you want, at least you have a slim chance to land on the right song with cassettes” you rambled 

“Yeah no kidding, you wanna see my tape collection” Dean offered 

“Nope, we agreed on just the car now we need to figure out what the hell is going on in Pawnee Nebraska” Bobby interrupted as the four of you made your way back into the house 

“I’m so sick of going to these ho-hum towns, why can't you guys hunt things that reside in memphis or something, I want to go to a museum that isn't about the butter cow or a mayor who died of dysentery” You said with a sigh

“Hunting in this ho hum town means road trip and i'm sure Dean would be delighted to let you ride down with him” Bobby offered for Dean, partly because he wanted some silence in his own car and he also wanted you, Dean, and Sam to be able to talk as much as you pleased and hopefully be caught up so you could focus on working. 

Dean agreed to the idea and Sam shrugged, hoping you would prevent bickering between him and his brother. 

“I promised I’d focus so Sam, you’re smart, have you found out more than some bad weather and a ‘still under investigation death of a couple’” You asked, turning to the taller brother, offering him a smile, slightly feeling bad you’d paid so much attention to his brother and not talked to Sam much. 

“Yeah, I think the weather is unrelated, I found autopsy reports and the couple had these wounds on the back of their necks. I don't recognize the pattern but you might be able to” he replied to you with a soft smile, he made his way to his computer and set it on the table where your abandoned books and coffee lay. 

You made a noise of disgust upon seeing the picture but you instantly recognized the wound pattern “That has to be changelings, they feed off of the mother until she dies, it's so creepy” You started “In a lot of the books I’ve read they switch out an infant for a changeling, did the couple have a kid?” you asked 

“Yeah, but she's a little girl who’s ten years old” Sam replied to you

“Different cultures have varying takes on changelings, some of them say they can grow and develop like a human would, so it's definitely a possibility” You told him “We have to get down there asap before more kids are switched out, and when you figure out where the little girl is at now, monitor her behavior closely, she's gonna be hungry and use abnormal phrases for a ten year old.” You explained

“Alright you heard her” Dean said, squeezing between you and Sam and placing a hand on your shoulder. He secretly wanted your attention back on him. 

“Let me pack a bag and change then I’ll be ready to head out” you told them

“Same goes for me, give us five minutes” Bobby added

You headed to your room and changed into jeans and tee shirt, additionally throwing on a crewneck from a college in Louisiana that you had found in the aisles of a thrift store. 

You threw a few additional outfits in a duffle bag and your pajamas which consisted of sleep shorts and a tee shirt, you threw your slippers for your constantly cold feet in the bag and you were ready to go. 

Your socked feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the front door to grab your shoes. You threw them on and told the group you were ready to go. 

Dean, Sam and you crowded into the impala, Dean leaping on the opportunity to tell Sam to sit in the back after you had informed the brothers you get carsick. 

“I have zofran, Sam can sit in the front, I don't want to take his spot” you said 

“Nope, Sam get in the back” Dean quickly said as he took his spot in the driver's seat. 

After the three of you had gotten in the car and started on the trip Sam complained “Dean, I know there's a pretty girl but what if I get carsick in the back” 

“You won't, and the very pretty girl won't complain about my music choices” Dean told him and raised his brows at you.

Your face heated at how they referred to you, you cleared your throat and changed the subject “I know you guys are more hands on than me so I know a few ways to figure these things out, different folklore says if you can make them laugh they’ll reveal their truth, or you can shout god bless you, you can cook with eggshells. German legends say you can whip the child but honestly the easiest way to kill them is just lighting the fuckers on fire” You explained “People used to throw them in the fireplace or in the oven but you can get away with a blowtorch and a can of hairspray” 

“That's more our speed” Dean replied 

“People were seriously throwing these things in ovens?” Sam asked “What if the kid wasn't actually a changeling” 

“People got overly paranoid and it wasnt exactly common knowledge back then that someone could be born with physical or mental disabilities, also families used to be really reliant on everyone in the household being able to help out so a lot of child abuse ensued because parents didnt want to have a changeling on their hands” You explained “Anyway these things creep me out so lets talk about something more lighthearted on the way there” 

“i agree sweetheart” Dean said and you blushed at the name “I heard your comment about Bret Micheals, are you a Poison hater” 

“I can tolerate them but I will not go out of my way to listen to them, they’re definitely one of the lamest hair bands” you told him “I definitely prefer Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard and Cinderella if I’m going to listen to hair bands” 

“Atta girl, you don’t like that Barry Manilow bullshit do you?” Dean asked 

“God no, fuck Styx too, that Babe song pisses me off” you laughed 

“Cus you know it’s you babe” Sam started singing off key and you groaned in annoyance, Dean laughing. 

The three of you talked about music, movies, and Sam and Dean's past hunts, asking odd would you rather questions when trying to think of new conversation topics 

“Okay would you rather have to eat a little bit of cheese on everything or never eat cheese again” you asked 

“Never eat cheese again” Sam quickly answered 

“I’d put a little bit on everything I fucking love cheese” you answered 

After extensive conversation and small bits of bickering the three of you made it to Nebraska, Bobby close behind.

Dean checked into the hotel, getting two rooms, one for him and Sam and one for you and Bobby. He gave the woman behind the counter a credit card with a name that most certainly was not his then the three of you made your way to the rooms. Dean opened the door to one of the rooms and the cowboy theme of the room made you laugh.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em’ Dean” you said 

“It’s fun, this cowboy boot pen holder on the desk is cute” he said, picking up the small red ceramic boot with a few pens sticking out of it.

“It is kinda cute, and I like the lasso on the wall” you pointed out 

“Oh man, creepy” you said as you noticed the sad clown painting hanging above the bed. 

“That's coming down” Sam said and quickly moved over to the painting to take it off the wall and lay it face down in the corner of the room. 

“Sammy here is a afraid of clowns” Dean informed you

“I don’t blame him, they’re scary, and all the media about killer clowns doesn’t exactly make me want to see one” you replied 

Bobby arrived at the motel shortly after the three of you had gotten the rooms. The four of you were discussing plans for the next day as it was later and you all agreed to start interviewing people in the morning. 

“i’m gonna go grab a drink, I saw a bar about ten minutes from here” Dean announced 

“I’ll join you if Bobby and Sam don’t need help with research” you said 

“Go take a break kid, you work your ass off, me and Sam will be fine” Bobby told you, you thanked him and gave him a quick hug before heading out with Dean. 

You weren’t surprised by the crowd at the bar, mostly older men who looked like they had just gotten off work, farm clothes and dirty work shirts adorned most of them. A few of them had women who you assumed were their wives at their side, chatting quietly with them. You were glad your outfit wasn’t out of place for the scene. 

A man who you guessed to be around fifty was working behind the bar, he gave Dean and you a soft smile before asking what you’d like to drink. 

“I’ll take a beer” Dean told him

“Busch okay? We don’t have anything else” The bartender replied 

“Perfect” 

“And for the pretty lady” the bartender asked 

“I’ll just take a vodka cranberry” you said, not minding his comment too much, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, people just talked like that. 

You and Dean sat at the bar after getting your drinks, chatting with each other. 

One drink led to another and you lost count of how many you had drank. You were asking Dean silly questions and you began to vocalize your thoughts about how handsome he is.

“I know you can't kill a vampire with a wooden stake, but have you ever tried death by stereo?” you asked with a giggle, you had taken your hand into his and were toying with his fingers. 

“The Lost Boys is a great movie, me and Sammy will try out death by stereo just for you the next time we hunt vampires” he replied earning a laugh from you.

“You are so manly and cute and handsome” you slurred poking a finger into his chest, eyes widening at the firmness of his muscles “Oh my gosh you’re strong too, I feel like I just poked a rock” 

He laughed and shook his head at your comments “Let's get you to bed before you say more shit you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

“I don't regret anything, I’ve been thinking about how cute you are all day, and those big arms wrapped around-” You blabbered but were cut off by Dean.

“Yep time for bed, but give me a heads up sweetheart if you still feel this way after you’ve sobered up” 

“I’m going to pay, then we’re going to get in the car, then get you to bed” he added

“Very forward, I like it” you giggled with a raise of your brows. 

After Dean paid he walked you out to the Impala, you stumbling slightly finding it hard to walk after being sat down all night. 

“I'm cold” you lied, you were not cold but you wanted his jacket.

“You have a sweater on?” he replied with confusion lacing his tone.

“You're supposed to give me your jacket then I can smell like you” you told him and tried to give him a hug while still walking. 

He forced a sigh then wrapped his jacket around you. You snuggled into it and thanked him.

After a car ride consisting of you informing Dean your feet hurt and you were tired, the two of you arrived back at the motel.

Dean opened the door to yours and Bobby's shared room. You giggled noticing the lights were off. 

Dean attempted to shush you “he's probably asleep already, quiet down” 

You only laughed harder at the fact you needed to be quiet “he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge when he sleeps, he just needs the little hat” you commented through your giggles, Dean tried to hide his smile to not encourage you. 

“I always think the ghost of Christmas past is gonna get him” you said before bursting into laughter and Dean quickly slapping his hand over your mouth. He pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door attempting to muffle your giggles. He flipped the light on and asked you where your duffle bag was. 

“In the room somewhere” you shrugged 

“Well no shit sweetheart” 

“It's on my bed I think” you giggled 

“Okay perfect you stay right here and I’ll go get it then you're going to change and go to bed” he told you

Dean groped through the dark until he found your bag, it was sitting on your bed as you had told him. He made his way back to the bathroom to find you sitting on the toilet lid, playing with the toilet paper roll that had the first square folded into a fancy shape. 

“Isn't this just precious” you said and showed him the toilet paper

“Yes, very cute put it down” he said and took the roll out of your hands, placing it on the counter. 

He opened your bag and fished out your shorts and a tee shirt “get changed” 

“No can do, can’t get my pants off” you shrugged with a fake sigh 

Usually Dean would be enthralled to take a girl's pants off but he wasn’t in the mood for an ass whooping from Bobby. 

He just prayed Bobby wouldn’t wake up because you weren’t budging. He helped you shimmy your jeans off your legs, then slipped your shorts onto you. 

“Need help with my shirt too” you said as you shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and put it into your lap. 

He slipped your crewneck over your head, your shirt coming off with it. He quickly took in your figure, admiring the sight of you in your bra before he slipped a clean shirt over your head. 

You unclasped your bra and slipped it off from under your shirt before tossing it on the bathroom floor. 

“Really? you can do that but you can’t change on your own” Dean whisper yelled 

“I can’t show you too much” you shrugged “now can you carry me to bed?”

He was willing to do anything to get you in bed at this point so he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to your bed, you giggled as he threw you down onto the sheets. 

“Go to bed now” he whispered and you quickly made yourself comfortable under the blankets, cuddling into his jacket that you still held in your arms. 

You heard the door close and you soon drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke around four in the morning the red numbers off the alarm clock informing you of the time. You were starving and the alcohol had barely worn off. you crawled out of bed and slipped on Dean's jacket, it hung loosely on your figure, the length going past your shorts and the sleeves being far too long. You were glad for the added warmth because you were freezing. 

You were absolutely craving fried chicken and you dug through the mini fridge wholeheartedly expecting to find some, when the disappointment hit you, you left the room and went into Sam and Dean's room, letting yourself in with the spare key you had been given. 

You began to dig through their refrigerator in the dark, expecting to find some chicken but when you heard a gun click and the light flipped on, you spun around, met by Dean in his underwear and Sam shuffling in moments later with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What the hell are you doing” Dean asked 

“I want fried chicken so bad” you complained 

“Why would we have fried chicken?” Dean asked, still groggy and confused. 

“I don’t know I just wanted to check” you told him 

Sam laughed at the interaction, telling Dean he shouldn’t have let you drink so much before he headed back to his bed. 

“I promise I will get you fried chicken in the morning but please go back to bed” Dean told you 

“You look cute in your undies” you giggled 

“And you look cute in my jacket now go to bed” he mimicked your giggle. 

You agreed but not before you made him promise to get you your food in the morning, you made him lock pinkies with you despite his complaints of annoyance. 

You made your way back to your room and quickly fell asleep again. 

The next morning was hell, Bobby woke you up around 8 and you were met with a headache and a need for water. The second you stood up you found yourself running to the bathroom as a nauseating feeling built in your throat. 

You heard Sam and Dean talking as you were throwing up the memories of last night. Both of them asking how you were doing, and Bobby explaining you were currently throwing up, expecting an explanation from Dean as to why. 

Dean ducked out of the conversation “I’m going to get her water and hold her hair back, like a man does” he walked into the bathroom and gave a small chuckle at your figure hunched over the toilet. 

“Do not fucking laugh at me” you groaned 

“You still want that fried chicken” he asked, and you gagged at the thought, he grabbed you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and handed you the toilet paper you had been previously admiring to wipe your mouth off with. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and the tears from your eyes before standing up to brush your teeth. 

“You still gotta work today you know” Dean told you 

you rolled your eyes at him and after you had finished brushing your teeth you said “I’ll survive, I can tolerate sitting and reading, you have to go fight the things” 

You and Dean joined Bobby and Sam, Sam having told Bobby about you breaking into their room. You were expecting to get your ass chewed out but all you got from Bobby was “Kid I’m glad you had fun, you need to loosen up sometimes, but we still need your help today, so I expect your best” 

You agreed and gave him a quick hug before setting up a spot to research on the desk in the room. 

Sam and Dean left to put on formal clothes as they were posing as detectives and had to look the part. They returned to the room after changing. 

“Don’t you boys look handsome” you said with a grin 

“We have to be believable” Dean grumbled 

“I’m being serious, you look nice” you smiled “I’m going to look for potential demonic activity in other areas, call me if you need anything” 

“Will do sweetheart” Dean replied 

“Thanks for all your help y/n, we’ll pick you up some fried chicken on our way back” Sam grinned 

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating anything but maybe you’d change your mind later in the day, so you didn’t shut him down. 

As the three were turning to leave you said “by the way Dean, I do still feel like that” earning a grin from him and his head flooding with thoughts of what he could do to you when he got back. 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[lundenloves]

fatherhood

This happened. *Holding a fist to my mouth, biting on them knuckles.* This happened as a combination result of an awful sleeping schedule and unemployment. Banged this out in an hour. Don’t tell me it’s obvious, i’ll fold. Happy reading, kids.

↳ no warnings | 1.1k | f!reader

part two | dad!simon masterlist

the way his eyes make me want to howl in tears while digging my own grave isn’t actually canon. sigh.

Ghost stood still for thirty-two seconds, standing in near open fire on enemy view. One that was only guarded by a particularly large tree, saving his life when Soap had dragged him down to cover by his tac vest. “What the fuck, Lt.” He’d shout over the fire, his brows tightened in a frown toward his lieutenant. “Eh?”

Ignoring the sergeant, Ghost would continue the rest of the assault half-heartedly. Which was disconcerting to say the least, and so, so unlike him. Only mumbling over the comms when required, saving the already minimal chit-chat and failing to hear the multiple requests for backup from Gaz.

Johnny had been bold that night. Hitting his lieutenant on the shoulder and fucking grabbing his mask, turning Ghost’s head toward him. Well, for the mere two seconds Simon had allowed for it before pushing him off. “What’s wrong with you, Lt? For fuck sake. You’re scaring me ae.”

“Focus, Sergeant.”

“Naw. You focus, sir.” He placed a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, before standing up and checking round the corner. “Let’s move, yeah?”

Simon’s jaw tightened under his mask, begrudgingly following Soap. Comms fucking yapping on in his ear, and he barked back at them while gesturing Johnny keep walking. It wasn’t ideal, yet so poignant to see him so different.

You.

You had gone into labour with Simon’s baby. The issue was, he had found out before going out on the current assault. His military mind raced with every possible travesty to do with childbirth. He feared you weren’t going to make it without him for unknown reasons, he felt it.

Soap didn’t know. No one knew.

He was good at that, keeping things to himself. Especially the things that ate at him — never did they ever come out aside from when Johnny forced them. Even then it was a battle.

So when they arrived back to base in safety, all trudging back to a meeting room. Gathering thoughts and sharing collected information, it was odd that Simon hadn’t shown. Not just odd, but almost scandalous as Johnny would say.

No messages. Nothing.

He hadn’t heard from you and in his head that meant fucking death at this rate. The balaclava came off for a split second, looking at himself in the lens of some sunglasses sat on a shelf adjacent to him. The stubble he had left was itchy against the fabric, smoothing his hand across his jaw he put his head into his hands.

Although, the balaclava was back on in under a minute for the subconscious feeling of vulnerability creeping in. And he was right to feel so when the door to his office had been knocked on, so light that he knew it was Soap before even opening the door.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, standing in front of his desk with arms crossed. Johnny entered and shut the door behind him, his hands flat on the surface.

“Lt. Are you alright, sir?” The way his eyes narrowed was enough to make Simon’s roll.

“Just grand.”

Although the tough facade was almost dropped when his phone had pinged from the desk. Jaw tensing at the sound, he was sure his fingers had twitched at the need to reach behind himself for it. Soap stared pointedly at the way the heel of his boot tapped against the floor, his fingers now looped in the pockets of his tac vest.

“Check it then.” The Scot nodded toward the desk.

“Do you need anything?” Simon asked. The dead stare he gave was piercing, shifting his feet to lean forward from the desk a little.

Johnny pointed to the desk, “It’s ringing, sir.”

For a moment, Simon did consider kicking Johnny out but figured. Fuck it. Reaching for the phone behind him to find it were a FaceTime from you, his own masked face staring back at him. This was probably it. The worst or best news of his life only a swipe away. With fucking Johnny MacTavish only feet away from whatever reaction Simon would undoubtedly suppress.

And well, it wasn’t so bad, Soap knew you. He knew you well. Well enough to the point where throughout your pregnancy he had been labelled ‘uncle Johnny’ by yourself much to Simon's demise

So when he swiped to answer, and was virtually face-to-face with a newborn it was a… chaotic feeling in his stomach to say the least. One that dropped to the floor when the baby had cried loud, a strangled babble that turned into a scream.

“Shh, shh,” Your voice mumbled over the line, zero energy throughout but just enough for Simon. “Daddy is there. Look baby, he’s here.” You had framed both yourself and the tiny baby on your chest, voice wavering with the last few words.

Johnny couldn’t save himself from the steps he took forward, planting a hard grip on Simon’s shoulder and shaking him slightly in glee. “Congratulations, mate.”

Simon took the balaclava off, his hair strewn across his forehead and spiking in every which way. He had no idea what to say, holding the fabric close to his chest and staring in awe.

“She’s beautiful, Si.” Was all you had said, obviously exhausted but confirming the gender for the first time.

Simon felt his knees buckle at the thought of having a little girl in the world, the familiar feeling of worry was completely wiped. The image of the little person enough to change his whole mindset, no longer was he scared but ready.

Ready to give his little girl whatever she wanted.

He was still lost for words when the call had ended. A promise of another at the same time tomorrow was the only thing that kept him upright, pulling the balaclava back on and looking to Johnny who cracked a grin.

“You’re a fuckin’ dad, Lt.”

He nodded, rubbing his eyes before holding the door open for the two of them. “Can I tell ‘em?” Soap continued, gesturing toward the group they were walking to.

“If you must.” Simon let a small smile take his face, content in the fact it was well hidden.

“Oi!” He’d called out, jogging ahead of his lieutenant and slamming his hands on the information table, sending many papers flying off edges. “Lt has stepped into fatherhood.”

The men erupted into deep voiced cheers just to wind their lieutenant up, all shaking his shoulders and drawing the attention of the whole fucking camp toward them.

It was the first time he had felt himself smile properly in months. His ears tinted a deep red although not visible, neck likewise.

Fatherhood it was.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

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[trulybetty]

honey, it's cold outside

pairing: jackson!joel x reader word count: 2,243 warnings: just domesticity, no descriptions of reader, use of a nickname, no y/n, soft & cozy post tlou season one joel estimated reading time: 11 minutes summary: christmas eve in jackson and joel is looking to be anywhere but alone, not that he would tell you that - but you know joel. ao3: linked

x. honey masterlist

honey, it's cold outside.

The snow had started to come down sometime in the afternoon. Soft and light at first, barely sticking to the ground, too warm for it to settle. However, by the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, the darkness of the evening closing in, down with it came the temperature, dropping considerably. That was when it had started to come down thick and heavy. It now blanketed Jackson in a still, quiet kind of peace. The kind that made the world feel a little smaller, like it was just you, the house, the storm beyond the frosty windows and that the world, maybe, hadn’t fallen apart.

Joel had come over earlier that afternoon, mumbling something about fixing the creaky hinge on your front door. You knew better though. Lately he’d been even more restless than usual since Ellie had moved into the converted garage at the back of their house—claiming she needed her own space from ‘the old man’. Despite the fact that being still so close it was almost debatable if it truly was independence. Especially considering she raided the fridge still on a daily basis. She was acclimating to life in Jackson at such a fast pace. He missed her, but he’d never say it outright, not unless you pressed. Even then, if so, it would be a grumbled confession, his voice low, rough as gravel. 

By the time Ellie and Dina had left for the Christmas Eve gathering at the main hall, stopping by briefly to see if either of you wanted anything, Joel was still at your home. Shoulders stiff under the weight of a now damp jacket, boots tracking melting snow across your entranceway. You didn’t mind. He’d made himself useful, fixing the creaky hinge on your front door, tightening the screws on the loose leg of your kitchen table, fixing the shelf underneath the bathroom mirror and finally putting the stubborn kitchen drawer back on its track. But now he seemed to linger, standing awkwardly in the living room like he wasn’t sure whether to stay and find something else to fix or leave.

“Joel,” you called, soft but insistent, from the couch where a fire Joel had insisted on starting earlier, crackled low in the hearth, “Sit down. You’re making the place look untidy.”

His face flushed as he hesitated, always cautious, always trying to gauge whether he was overstepping. The once urge to account for threats in a life before Jackson, replaced by a lingering uncertainty in a world that had begun to feel like home again. Eventually, he relented, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door, his boots followed next—slipped off and placed near the fire to dry. Before he could choose the old worn leather armchair across from you, you tapped the space on the couch beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, drawing you closer to him than you’d planned, not that you minded. His warmth radiated, a welcome contrast to the cold pressing against the windows trying to find its way in.

For a while, you both sat in companionable silence, watching the flames flicker and dance, listening to the occasional groan of the wind against the house. You could see through him like an open book, you didn’t miss the way his hands flexed now and then, restless even in the stillness.

“You could’ve gone to the main hall with Ellie,” you said, breaking the quiet. 

Joel shook his head, his lips twitching like he was attempting to fight a smile, “Crowds ain’t my thing.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, a wry smile on your lips that you made no attempt to hide, “Could’ve fooled me. You’re the most popular guy in Jackson.” 

That earned a soft huff of laughter, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Not sure that’s somethin’ to be proud of.”

“You don’t fool me either, you know,” your voice was gentle, more teasing than serious. “I know you don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

He didn’t answer, at least not right away, but you knew Joel well enough to let the silence stretch out before you. Eventually, he sighed, long and slow, and dropped his head against the back of the couch.

“Guess not,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

You reached out, resting your hand over his, his fingers twitched under yours but didn’t pull away. 

“Stay,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

With his head still resting on the back of the couch he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. So very much Joel. His hand, still underneath yours, flexed as his calloused fingers turned and intertwined with yours, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

The dishes clinked softly as you carried them into the kitchen, balancing a stack of plates, cutlery and glasses while Joel trailed behind, muttering something under his breath about how you didn’t have to fuss. He had said he didn’t want dinner—he’d come by to fix the hinge, nothing more, already overstaying his welcome at your insistence—but you’d caught the way his eyes had lingered on the roast chicken and vegetables as you’d prepared what you’d said was your own plate, knowing exactly how this conversation was going to go. And when you had insisted, placing the plate down at the table, he’d sat down and eaten without protest. 

Then he’d had seconds.

“You know, for someone who wasn’t hungry, you sure made a dent in that chicken,” you called over your shoulder, setting the plates in the sink. 

Joel grunted, the kind of sound that wasn’t quite an agreement but wasn’t denial either, “Didn’t want it to go to waste.”

You glanced at him, standing there in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as if he were trying to take up less space. His face betrayed him though—a flicker of something softer in his eyes, like maybe he wasn’t used to being fed because someone simply wanted to.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” you said, rinsing the plates under warm water. “Not hungry actually means two servings.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk breaking through his normally guarded expression, as he pushed himself off of the doorframe and headed over to the sink where you stood. Gently, he nudged you away with his hip as he took the dish from your hand and continued washing them. “You’re funny,” he said with a pointed look telling you to sit down when you attempted to dry the plates.

You rolled your eyes as you took a seat at the now steady kitchen table, “Just calling it as I see it.”

The conversation between the two of you was light, easy in a way that felt rare. Joel had a way of being in the room without really letting himself be in it, like he always had one foot out of the door. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the snowstorm hemming him in or the warmth of the fire lulling him into a sense of ease, he certainly didn’t look like he was in a hurry to leave.

You watched as he finished with the dishes, drying his hands on a towel before he put everything away, needing no direction from you—now familiar with where everything was kept.

“You want to sit back by the fire for a bit?” you asked, “or are you still pretending you’re here for that hinge?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting to the window where the snow continued to fall, thick and relentless. Finally, he nodded, the motion small but enough.

Joel had stayed, as you knew he would, his body sinking deeper into the couch with every passing hour. His arm slowly found your shoulder, pulling you close until you were nestled against him, the warmth of his body a comfort alongside the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear. You talked about nothing and everything—the state of the roads, how quiet Jackson felt with most people at the Christmas Eve gathering, and Ellie’s recent streak of stubborn independence. Joel had smiled at that, a wry, tired kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“She’s doin’ alright,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Better than I was at her age,” he paused, “all things considered.”

You didn’t press him. Joel didn’t like to linger on the past, even if it was woven into every line on his face, every guarded word. You cherished any piece of it he shared, keeping space for it and letting the silence fill the gaps in between. You offered him what you could in return: a soft place to land, a steady presence so he didn’t have to put as much effort into maintaining the solid defences he had built up.

When you had suggested heading to bed soon, he had hesitated, his hand holding the arm of the couch like it was an anchor, “I should probably head back—”

“To an empty house?” You tilted your head, your voice gentle but firm, “Did you say Ellie wanted to spend the night at Dina’s place? Plus there’s the small issue of the blizzard outside. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

He sighed, long and slow, but didn’t argue. There was something in his eyes—a weariness you’d only seen on him when he thought no one was looking. It wasn’t just the snow keeping him here, he could have made the short walk home easily, and you both knew it.

The fire had burned to embers, casting the room in flickering shadows. The snowfall outside had softened, but the cold still crept through the walls with the dying heat unable to stave it off. Upstairs, your bed waited, the sheets warm and heavy.

Joel followed you without question, quiet as ever, but you caught the softness in his gaze as he took your outstretched hand. He seemed lighter, like the weight he carried every day had been set down, if only for a little while.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the storm outside, but thin enough that the glow from the strings of lights that adorned Jackson could still be seen. You returned from the bathroom, face clean and clothes changed, to find Joel stood by the edge of the bed. You weren’t sure if he was waiting for you or if he was testing if the familiar fragile thread of tension had truly been left behind. 

You climbed under the blankets first, patting the spot beside you with a quiet smile.

“C’mon, Miller. Bed’s not gonna bite, can’t promise about me though.”

He snorted softly at that, unbuttoning the plaid shirt he wore, leaving him in a soft tee and worn jeans. He climbed into the bed, it wasn’t the first time, but it still felt new, tender. Joel shifted hesitantly, his body stiff as he lay on his side, his back to you. It wasn't a matter of ignoring you, but rather a well-ingrained means of survival—facing the exit and keeping his good ear alert for any potential danger. You didn’t need an invitation. Sliding closer, you wrapped an arm around his waist, your forehead pressing lightly between his shoulder blades. He stilled for a moment, then let out a breath that sounded almost like relief, his hand moving tentatively to rest over yours where it lay against his stomach. 

“Alright?” you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m alright.”

The moment stretched, the sound of the wind outside fading into the background as your breathing fell into rhythm with his. His body feeling solid against yours, bringing warmth that chased the lingering chill away.

After a beat, you broke the silence, “Don’t think about slipping out—everything will still be there tomorrow if you stay the night. Sleep, if just for tonight.”

“You always this bossy?” he asked after a while, as if this was a new revelation, his voice a quiet rumble.

“Only when you’re being stubborn,” you shot back, your tone light. “Which is… most of the time.”

He huffed out a laugh, the sound low and genuine. “Fair enough.”

You smiled against his back, the curve of your lips just brushing the bare skin above the collar of his shirt. This wasn’t perfect—nothing with Joel ever was—but it felt right in a way you couldn’t quite explain, nor felt the need to solve. Holding him like that, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, it was easy to forget it all. Just focus on the quiet, the warmth of your bed, that there was only you and Joel. And for that night? That was enough.

The rhythm of Joe’s breathing slowed and evened out, his body melting against yours as if he’d been waiting for this—someone, you, to hold him steady. To remind him it was okay to let go, even for a little while, so you held him a little tighter, your legs tangling under the blankets. 

The smokey scent of the put-out fire from downstairs lingered, and the house creaked again as the wind pushed against it, only making the space between you and Joel feel cozier. You closed your eyes and listened to Joel’s faint snores, the ones that he would swear he didn’t make, as you fell into sleep—there in the quiet glow of the night, everything felt whole.

[winchesterwild78]

Safely in Your Arms

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife)

Warnings: None, just a sweet story of our rough hunter who needs to be cuddled and loved.  Fluffy, brief mention of a past hunt.

A/N: Writing and having Supernatural playing in the background lends to some inspiration. Our Dean deserves love, comfort and cuddles. Lots of cuddles. I wrote this fast and edited it just as fast. Please enjoy.

💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

You stood on your tiptoes as you tried to reach the flour that Dean had put on the top shelf. You huffed in frustration and cursed under your breath. “Damn it, Dean. Why do you have to be so friggin tall?” You huffed. You grabbed a chair and was about to climb it when you heard that deep chuckle coming from behind you. You turned and saw your husband leaning against the doorframe watching you and laughing. 

You smirked, walked over to him and pointed in his chest “What’s so funny, Mr. Winchester?” He grabbed you around your waist, pulling you into him and replied “You are, Mrs. Winchester.” Then he kissed your forehead. “Need some help sweetheart?” “Yes, if you want me to make this pie. I need the flour you put on the top shelf.” You pointed. He walked over and grabbed it without any problem and chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes and thanked him. Dean sat at the table and watched you work. He loved watching you in the kitchen, well let’s be honest he loved watching you do anything. Especially when you were baking. His favorite part of watching you was when you were reading and you would bite your lip as you concentrated, or how you would wrinkle your nose up when your hands touched raw dough. 

When the two of you got married it took awhile for Dean to believe he deserved this kind of life. He was always terrified of being close to anyone. For fear they would be taken away. You pushed your way through his walls and when he finally let you in he hasn’t looked back. You quickly realized early on in your relationship that Dean’s love language was physical touch and he learned that yours was acts of service. He had a hard time at first letting you do things for him, but he’s gotten better. 

Since Dean grew up in the hunter life it was hard on him in more ways than one. His father, John, was not a very affectionate man. Especially with his children. So Dean had to take on the role of mother and father for Sammy. He made sure Sam grew up having as much stability as possible. You had no doubt that he would make an incredible father one day. Since Dean didn’t have a mother for much of his life, Jody had become his unofficial mom, he was hard to love at first. Each touch, kiss and show of affection was met with gruffness and walls. Eventually you were able to get him to trust you.

You were making the dough for one of your famous pies. You loved baking for Dean, and he loved eating whatever you made for him. While you were rolling out the dough, Dean came up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist and looked over your shoulder. You giggled as he kissed your neck. “Looking good sweetheart.” He kissed your neck. “Need any help?” He kissed your cheek.

You smiled “Dean, if you keep distracting me I won’t get this pie done.” He huffed and turned you to face him. “Fine, finish baking so I can hold you.” He kissed your lips then started to let you go. You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to you. “I didn’t say I was done with you, Winchester.” You pulled him flush to your flour covered shirt and kissed him deeply. He moaned into your mouth. You could feel his arousal growing. You pulled away and he groaned. “Okay, now I’m done with you.” You giggled. 

Dean smirked, “Be glad you’re making pie, sweetheart, but I will get you back later.” He playfully slapped your ass. You finished prepping the pie and put it in the oven. When you turned around you saw your gorgeous husband sitting at the table waiting. “Okay baby, we have about an hour before the pie is ready, what do you want to do?” 

Dean stood up and stretched. As he did his shirt lifted and you saw the top of his hips peaking out from his jeans. You licked your lips. He grabbed your hand and led you to the “Dean cave”. “I figured we could start a movie or something if you wanted to.” He smiled softly. You sat on the couch beside Dean and grabbed a blanket. He turned on the tv and you sat staring at him. Tracing his face and watching how each freckle lit up with the changing light from the television. You were deeply and madly in love with Dean from the moment he saved you from the vampire nest you were dragged to. Dean has loved you since the minute he laid eyes on you, well, almost. It was supposed to be a quick vamp kill. In and out. However, when Dean and Sam got to the nest they found you. Laying, tied up and fighting for your life. Dean saw you and immediately ran to you. You punched him in the nose thinking he was a vamp. Thank goodness you didn’t hurt him. He untied you and wrapped you in his strong arms and kept saying “You’re safe in my arms, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

From that moment on you have always felt safe in his arms. You laid your head on his shoulder trying to pay attention to the tv, but you couldn’t concentrate. Dean was mindlessly running his fingers up and down your arm. It started to tickle and you squirmed. “Dean, that tickles” you giggled. “What? What does, this?” He tickled up your arm and you squirmed. Dean laughed loudly. You loved seeing and hearing him laugh. 

“Dean, stop tickling me.” You squealed. “Okay, okay” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “Thank you.” You laughed as you laid your head on his shoulder again. Dean smirked “you know what, naw. I love hearing you laugh too much. Sorry sweetheart.” He grabbed you and pulled you close, tickling you all over. You squealed and squirmed under him as laughter filled the room. Dean had you on the floor now. He was on top of you running his hands over your body hitting every spot he knew would elicit a laugh or giggle. 

You heard the timer go off for the pie. “Dean….stop….the….pie….” you were able to say between giggles and breaths. He stood up and helped you up. “Okay, sweetheart. Go get the pie out.” He kissed you as you stood up and you started to walk away. Before you could get too far he pulled you back to him and both of you tumbled to the couch. You were on top of him and he smiled. “God you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He leaned up and kissed your lips. “You’re not bad yourself, Winchester. Now let me get your pie out before I burn it.” You smiled and got up. 

You got the pie out in time and set it on the counter to cool. You felt your husband's strong arms wrap around you again. You leaned into his chest and he held you tight. 

“Have I told you lately how much I love you, Y/N?” Dean whispered in your ear. “No, but I have a good idea.” You whispered back. Dean kissed your neck and you melted in his arms. ���I have an idea sweetheart.” Dean said, turning you to face him. You looked in his beautiful green eyes and saw so much love and happiness. It made you indescribably happy to see Dean like this. Living a life filled with love, happiness and everything he deserves. “What’s your idea, baby?” “Since we have to wait for the pie to cool, why don’t we go work on our next project?” He said enthusiastically. You knew what he was talking about but you wanted to play coy. “Oh, and what project is that? Remodeling the shower, cleaning out the basement, working on the car?” You smirked. “Nope.” He answered by popping the p. “Hmm I can’t think of any other project we’ve been working on.” You grinned. 

Dean smirked and pulled you closer to him. “You sure about that sweetheart?” “Hmmm, yep.” You grinned and wiggled out of his arms. “You might have to jog my memory, Dean.” You said as you walked to the door. Dean growled playfully and you squealed, running towards your shared room. You reached the door and pushed it open. Dean stuck his foot in the door, preventing you from closing it. You both were laughing as he grabbed you and took you in his arms. You both collapsed on the bed laughing. 

“I love you Dean. So much.” “I love you too, sweetheart,” He wrapped you in his arms and held you tight. You sighed contently because you always felt safe when he held you. “Yes, Dean. Let’s work on the project now. I want to have your baby.” “Really sweetheart? You’re ready to have a baby? His eyes sparkled. “Yes, Dean. I am. Let’s have a baby.” Dean kissed you deeply and held you tight. “Thank you sweetheart, thank you.” 

You knew no matter what life brought your way, as long as you (and anyone else that came along) had Dean, you would always be safe. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @stoneyggirl2

[d-targaryenshoe]

The Arrival Of A Miracle - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1666

Summary: Oh how wonderful it is when new life joins us in this adventure called life, is it not?

The chamber is elegantly decorated with antique furniture and delicate china tea sets. Violet Bridgerton, an elegant and wise woman in her seated on a comfortable armchair. 

And Eloise, a spirited and intelligent young woman joins the both of you with a cup of tea.

 "It's so lovely to have this moment of peace amidst all the chaos, isn't it?" Violet chuckled, taking a sip from the hot liquid in her teacup. "At least for the time being."

"Yes, indeed. I can't believe this little one will be joining us shortly." You smiled, placing a hand upon your bump covered by your green gown.

"Time flies, my dear. It feels like just yesterday when Anthony was a baby himself." The mother sighed, slightly lost in memories, smiling at you. 

"Speaking of babies, it seems like everyone else in London is busy with their own affairs." Eloise joked, making you chuckle as well. "I hardly see anyone these days."

"Well, Eloise, life does tend to get busy, especially when there's a new addition to the family on the way." Violet silenced her daughter, pointing at your bump. 

"I must admit, it's quite overwhelming at times. But having tea with all of you brings such joy and comfort." You said, looking at both the women in the room. "Truly."

"My dear, you're doing wonderfully. We're all here to support you every step of the way." Violet assured, placing her hand on yours.

"Absolutely! And once the baby arrives, we'll have even more reasons to celebrate." Eloise laughed, taking a biscuit from the table.

"Indeed, Eloise. Our family will grow, and our love will only deepen." Violet agreed. "Could I ask something?"

"Oh, most definitely, what's the matter?" You asked.

 "I've been searching for this specific book for weeks, and I can't seem to locate it anywhere." Eloise almost begged. "My brothers are no help at all. One of them is always painting and the other is making sure a nursery is completed."

"Eloise, y/n is close to birthing a child, how could you ask such a thing?" Violet scolded her daughter.

"It's okay, I'd be happy to help you out." You answered, getting up from the couch with some difficulty. "We can go to the library together and search for it."

"Really? You would do that for me?" She asked, eyes wide with happiness. "Thank you so much. Let's go right now."

And with that, the younger Bridgerton took a hold of your hand and pulled you towards the library.

Entering the library, you're greeted by the smell of old books and the sound of pages being turned. 

"Wow, this library is impressive. Do you have any leads on where we should start?" You asked, placing a hand on your back as you felt some subtle pain.

"Well, I've already checked the history section, the adventure section, and even the rare books collection. But no luck so far." Eloise sighed, randomly reading some titles of books.

 Eloise is meticulously going through books about unsolved mysteries and hidden secrets. "... It must be here somewhere."

You walk a little further into the library, reading some book titles as well, hoping you'd find the book, at least to help Eloise out.

Suddenly, Eloise's hand brushes against a book that feels slightly different from the others. 

But at a sudden moment your face twists in pain. As Eloise walks towards you with a book in her hand.

"Y/n, are you alright? Shall I get Mama or Anthony?" She asked worriedly, placing the book on the shelf, and placing her hand on your back. 

You took a deep breath, placing your hands on the shelf, trying to steady yourself. "It's too soon. The baby isn't due for another two weeks, El."

"I don't know much about this but this child is coming," Eloise said, looking around her if there was anyone that could help her out "We must get you to your room."

"I... I can't wait any longer. The baby is coming." You panted, cradling your bump with one hand, feeling how the pain got worse.

"We'll do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our child," Eloise assured, taking hold of your hand, and leading you out of the library.

You smiled weakly, grateful for the support of your sister-in-law. 

Eloise smiles back, determination etched on her face. She took your arm and supported you as you both started to make your way up the grand staircase.

Eloise and you slowly walk up the staircase, each step becoming more challenging for you. Eloise whispers words of encouragement, trying to keep you calm.

"You're doing wonderful, y/n. Just a few more steps and we'll be in your chamber." Eloise encouraged, breathing along with you.

Your grip tightens on Eloise's arm as another contraction hits. You wince in pain, but bravely soldier on. "I can't do this, El."

"You're stronger than you assume, y/n Bridgerton. Remember, soon you'll be holding your beautiful babe in your arms." Eloise smiled, rubbing the lower of your back, hoping to soothe some of the pain.

You reach the top of the staircase and continue down the hallway towards your room. 

Eloise helps you into the room and guides you towards the bed. You collapse onto the bed, your face pale and sweaty.

"You, try to stay calm, I'll get Mama and make sure that wicked brother of mine, returns home," Eloise said, kissing your cheek one last time.

Descending the grand staircase with purpose. She spots her mother, across the room. "Mother, we must act fast! Send the midwives to y/n's room and fetch Anthony immediately. She has begun the labor upstairs in their room!"

Anthony Bridgerton bursts through the doors of the Bridgerton residency. Noticing the stares his mother and sister are giving in his direction. 

"It's your wife, dearest." Violet began.

"Where? Where is my wife? What's the matter?" He asked, noticing Eloise nodding her head subtly towards the hallway upstairs. 

"Anthony, my dear, there's no need to worry. Y/n is in good hands. She's in your room." Violet explained, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Preparing for the arrival of your child." 

"I just want to be there for her, Mother. I want to hold her hand and support her through this."He answered, looking down at the wedding ring on his hand.

"And you will be. Y/n knows how much you adore her. She knows you'll be by her side every step of the way." She smiled as Anthony's eyes lit up with determination.

"Yes, I will. I'll be the best father and husband I can be." Anthony nodded his head. 

"I have no doubt about that, my son. You will be a wonderful father, just like your own father was." Violet spoke with tearful eyes.

"Thank you, Mother. I won't let her down."

"I know you won't, my dear. Now, go to her. Your wife needs you." Violet insisted, motioning her hand toward the staircase.

Anthony nervously enters the room, his heart pounding with anticipation. He glances around, noticing the midwife preparing the birthing supplies. The room is filled with an air of both excitement and trepidation.

"Is everything alright?" Anthony asked the midwife who was taking some sheets for the bed.

"Yes, Mr. Bridgerton. everything is going well, soon you'll child will be here." The woman answered.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He walks over to your side, are you're lying on the bed, your face flushed with pain. 

"You're doing amazing, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony whispered against your forehead, softly smiling. .

" Oh, the pain! I can't bear it any longer!" You cried, leaning back into the pillow. 

"Just a little while longer, my lady. You're doing wonderfully." One of the midwives reassures, adjusting the gloves on her hands. "Just a few more pushes and we'll have the baby in your arms."

"Don't leave me, Anthony. I need you." You sighed, squeezing his hand.

"Alright, my lady. On the count of three, give me one more big push." The midwive said as you we're pushing the best you could. 

"Come on, my love. You can do this." Anthony encouraged, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

The birthing room is filled with a team of midwives bustling around, preparing for the imminent arrival of the baby.

"Just breathe, my lady. You're doing great." The midwife said as she saw sweat beads on your forehead as you clutched Anthony's hand tightly.

You gritted your teeth, leaning back in your bed. "I can't... I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony said, removing the strands of hair on your sweaty forehead.

You gather all your strength and push with all your might. The room fills with the sound of your pains. 

 Anthony's face breaks into a fragile smile as he hears the cry of a babe. "It's... it's a miracle."

"Mr. Bridgerton, It's time for you to cut the umbilical cord. Are you ready?" The midwife said, holding out the scissors towards Anthony. 

"I mostly am" The woman hands him the pair of sterilized scissors. He takes a deep breath and approaches the baby, who is in the hands of the midwife.

"Here we go, little one." Anthony carefully cuts the umbilical cord, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The baby lets out a soft cry, signaling its arrival into the world.

"It's a beautiful and healthy baby boy!" The midwife said as she took the baby and gently placed him on your chest. Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you held your newborn close.

"Welcome to the world, my son. We will love and protect you always." Anthony spoke as his eyes were filled with tears.

"Our little miracle. Our family is complete." As you both gaze at your newborn son, the room is filled with a sense of pure bliss and the promise of a bright future.

[lover-of-mine]

Blue and yellow coding of Eddie's arc this half of the season just because I feel like making this post.

As usual, the theory is that Eddie will work his way to his yellow in the same way that Buck worked his way to his blue, his blue being the coming out scene blue. (Overview and links to all the posts I made on that here).

Also please remember that in the search for yellow, yellow means gold/honey/sunlight, orangy/yellow type tones.

First of all, no place like home (I made a detailed post on the episode that you can read here), but all the scenes about Eddie include blue and yellow elements and we got out first sandy yellow color when he was talking to Bobby.

His 2 part confession in confessions is also yellow and blue. How warm the actual confessional is, is also an interesting point when you add in the amount of blue elements in the juice shop.

Something that I keep talking about Buck's arc is that he does not match the background during his discovery, but he matches when it's about Eddie (aka the right choice), so the fact that Eddie already matches is worth noting. That's also true for when he's in the 804 yellow, bathenas apartment is very warm and he matches the background pretty well.

That yellow shirt also happens to be the shirt Eddie is wearing during the 601 dinner which happens to be 1 of 2 explicitly blue and yellow buddie scenes. When I say explicitly I mean that's part of the color of their shirt/jacket because that's usually the focus of an outfit.

The other one is the will reveal.

And we have all the blue and yellow elements during the conversation he has with Brad during wannabes.

Something worth noting here is the way everyone is wearing gloves while cleaning. The hose and rags are usually yellow but the addition of the gloves for the blue is intentional, take buzzkill for example, no gloves while cleaning.

Something I think it's particularly interesting is the way that he works as a divider almost, behind him to the left there is no yellow, just blue, but to the right we have all the yellow equipment and the people behind him with the rags. Also because the shelf of white hose highlights the way that the one behind Brad is supposed to be noticed.

There's also that rope behind him hanging in the dining room that weirdly looks like caution tape. That and the little yellow elements in the fridge.

Honorable mentions include: yellow organic fruit leader.

And the blue and yellow coding of the well callback in 806. I put this down here because technically this call is about Chim's plotline but it is an eddie begins callback that is very blue and yellow, so...

But something else I wanna point out is the way that in my post explaining the Eddie finding his color theory (that post can be found here), I mentioned the way that Chris is red. His crutches are red, his glasses are red, he's in yellow and red when he leaves.

And the scenes tend to have all 3 primary colors, most of the scenes also have a lot of red elements, so if we have Chris as the red, Buck as the blue, and Eddie as the yellow and the red keeps being included in the conversation, it's almost as if they are keeping Chris involved because Eddie can't make the discovery without Chris.

That is interesting with the buddie's parenting crisis maroon.

And the red and blue for parenting as a whole that was solidified once again with madney's pregnancy (meta on that applied to buddie and 710 here).

So if we consider the possibility that they are doing some really elaborate color theory game here to make sure Eddie finds all his colors, they are basically making the Buckley-Diaz family its own little group of primary colors so Eddie can make all of them. And considering that my base statement is that they are trying to show that Eddie can't live his life as a secondary color, especially since a lot of us associate green with Eddie, or earthy tones in general, this is a fun theory to think about.

He can't figure it all out without Christoper, but the addition of the blue means he also can't figure it all out without Buck. So the idea that he's stuck right now because he doesn't have one-third of the equation and if he does move to Texas he would also be missing a piece, but choosing to go get Chris and stay in LA will give him all the elements.

Anyway, this got way longer than I expected when I started typing aoksasaok, as usual, if you read this I love you 💜

taglist (interact with this post if you wanna get tagged)

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @dangerpronebuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @miles--to--go @jesuisici33 @wolfdeans @lunarsolar1 @joshwritesfics @glasscities @kejfeblintz @stagefoureddiediaz @mosaicstardust @eddiedisasterdiaz @hermioneindisguise @queerprincesseddiediaz @lookforanewangle @becausebuckley @lemotmo @thenainitaldisaster @epiaphany @trudayss @shelfthe-reader @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @buckgettingstruck @scoupsahoy @the-whispers-of-death @iced-coffee-jesus @izzysbeans @thegeekcompanion @sunflower-eddiediaz @bucks-daddy-issues @linus-lucy

@dingdongfries @angelcamael

[lila-went-missing]

Hey girl! Can I request some fluffy Vi headcannons? <3

Absolutely! I'm finally writing on my laptop, partially because I have the live UConn feed on my phone. They 're playing Tennessee and I'm STRESSING, they're down four points in the last quarter. I hope you love this but I'm sorry if it seems rushed. This kind of turned into general relationship hcs but it’s all very fluffy. X

Fluffy Vi headcanons

For starters, Vi has had anything but an easy like and it really shows through the way that she acts around people.

Originally I think she would be a bit standoffish, especially right after leaving Stillwater.

It might take a while but she would get used to having you around. Her body would definitely take a while for her body to catch up to her mind. Any time you reach out to touch her she might tense up or flinch back, but she knows you wouldn't hurt her. She'd get there eventually it just might take some time and patience.

On the other hand she would love to be touching you.

I wholeheartedly believe that one of her love languages is physical touch.

She can convey feelings through contact that she can't with words.

She would constantly have a hand on you, whether shes holding yours, keeping it on your thigh, or just a hand on the small of your back as you walk.

She likes to have a physical reminder that you're safe and right there.

She'd love it when you lay in her lap, doing your own thing while she reads a book.

When they robbed Jayce's apartment the first place she went was the bookshelf. You can't convince me this girl isn't the biggest bookworm.

I feel like she would run a hand through your hair while you traced patterns on one of her legs.

I also think she would love to read your own copies of the same book and later discuss. I saw someone else mention this and I loved it.

Vi definitely sees herself as a protector so she would love being the big spoon.

The feeling of holding you against her, covering your body with her own.

Especially with how big she is.

She's like 5'10, BROAD shoulder, MUSCLES!!! She'd for sure cover most of your body.

She would not care how much you weigh or if you have some chub, she would pick you up and throw you around in her arms. Argue with the wall.

But despite all of this, sometimes she would need to be held and babied.

She wouldn't ask for it outright, at least not at first.

She would have this look on her face, her brows slightly furrowed and an almost undetectable frown.

But you see it of course.

So you would pull her into your lap, or on your chest, and just lay with you for a while.

Vi seems like the person to LOVE having her hair played with and her back rubbed.

I mean borderline purring because she’s so relaxed.

But who can blame her. With all the work and fighting she does I know her back is full of knots.

Our girl does NOT get a break.

Other than physical touch I think she’d be big on acts of service.

I mean come one her whole life her purpose has been to protect people so you can’t convince me she doesn’t like doing things for you.

It’s a whole range of things. From grabbing something off the top shelf to beating up a guy who made you uncomfortable when you went out for drinks.

Sometimes you have to force her to relax.

But it’s all worth it to her if she’s making your life easier.

I can see you patching her up quite frequently.

Even though she doesn’t fight in the pits anymore she does fight a lot of people for you.

There are a lot of bruised knuckles in your future.

After a while though she’ll settle down, more focused on making you happy than beating up a guy for looking at you.

She loves you very much. It may take her a bit to say it but she does.

She’s shows you her love everyday too through her actions.

You’re by far her favorite person.

She definitely calls you cupcake, among other things.

Other than cupcake, her favorites are probably babe, baby, and princess in a playful way.

HEAVY on Princess if you’re from Piltover.

But she says it with so much love that you don’t mind the playful jab.

I think she’d be addicted to you tracing her tattoo.

Plus you’d never get bored because it’s so big and intricate.

It’s another thing that would knock her out in like five minutes.

Moral of the story she’s addicted to you and wants to spend the rest of her life with you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Favorite Guest (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1

Trey considered himself a peaceful man. Exalted in the company he worked at, a reliable watchman, and a highly trusted man in his personal life. This is probably why he was the only one who noticed the dissolving of his friend’s position and the praise for his miraculous results with one of the hardest hybrids they had in captivity. 

With cameras and sensors all over the zoo, it was up to him to be the first to see everything. To warn the upper management and the scientists who were all too engrossed in their studies to be aware of the impending danger from their subjects of interest. It wasn’t his job to map out the tremors from ‘upper management’  but after being instructed to stop recording during certain officials visits, he accepted it as his duty. 

Ring

Ring

“Yo Yo it’s Cater D, go ahead and leave me a message and follow me on my socials after the beep!” 

Beep

Hearing the message from his friend when he wasn’t stuttering and sobbing uncontrollably didn’t help settle Trey’s suspicions. On paper, they never knew each other but in truth, they’d met in school and kept in contact even as they got into the same line of work. Confidentiality was a line they crossed long ago sharing the events of their work. Trey didn’t feel bad, he figured it was human to share secrets especially, against the monstrous image of the company they had, only interested in the height of the discovery of new life. 

It was also why Trey debated with himself while he watched the loudest sensor go off. The blaring red alarm was loud but due to secrecy the soundproofing of his office let only Trey know about the impending doom. 

The sensor was a valued company secret, the only technological link to the largest threat they’d entrapped. The green Naga that was hundreds of meters (and that was by guessing) the anomaly that turned themselves in and claimed to have convinced the other subjects to stop fighting on his command–was on the move. In an outdated attempt to track him and the other nagas, a plate was installed near the entrance of the cave they gravitated to. There were other cameras and recorders in there but all were dismantled, smashed, or broken before they could collect any data. 

The plate was based on weight and depending on how much longer it was pressed down depended on who was coming out of the cave. 3 meters was the silver-tailed one. 6 meters was the blue one. But any reading over that was registered as the green one. 

This would have been a time for him to unlock the shelf and flip the switch. Putting the entire base on a code dragon: an appropriate name for the Naga they weren’t even sure was one. Evidence suggested that properly shutting down the facility would be the goal….but Trey was hesitating. 

This same facility of people had thrust a dear friend of his into the fire by making him the scapegoat to secure the Naga’s first demands. Clearing his existence from all walks of life when he exercised his morality. Risking his life to defy whatever demands those ‘higher-ups’ had led out.

Cater was now gone. 

All that remained were the scientists who were responsible. 

Without being scared it was clear that the ‘higher-ups’ were worried about an uprising. There was so much they didn’t know about the subjects they’d kept trapped. Always discovering new abilities with the massacres of many employees. It was bound to happen. And with the green Naga’s only confirmation of peace was that he was looking for something possibly being fulfilled with the poor guest from the zoo. 

So the urge to call an early day off grew more as other sensors from separate exhibits began to ring. 

“Yeah, I think it’s best if I take an early day off.”

____________________________________________________________

Hearing the distant sound of glass breaking from inside the cave was the signal you were waiting for. Letting Rollo pick you up, you watched from deeper than the entrance to watch the tip of Malleus’ tail finally disappear into the darkness.. 

“Wow, he is so long.”

Idia giggled as he finished his his contraption, “And girthy too. Hehehe.”

Rollo was likely sneering at him but you couldn’t tell. The blue-haired Naga didn’t look bothered in the slightest, instead, he was smiling widely as he handled the controller. The part of the plan that Malleus allowed involved all three of your participation—Operation Leftovers!

“Idia are you all set up to go?’

“Yup! Those batteries you had worked so much better than the ones I’ve got. And the little gadget in your bag was really–”

“Idia please just send the thing out. I’m ready to forgo the entire plan if you rant another moment longer.”

The Naga with the handmade drone pouted a little before clicking some buttons. The whirring of the drone charging up before flying off. With a phone he swiped as a monitor for his drone he looked intently at the screen. Moving closer to him you watched the fuzzy image become clear. It showed the jungle of the enclosure traversed through by something large. The trees and grass are lying irregularly, some things snapped as though the Naga had gone through breaking them mid-launch. The drone easily maneuvered through the remains to reveal the glass of the enclosure shattered and surrounding it the scientists downed. 

Looking over your shoulder Idia mumbled to himself,” He really didn’t save any for the rest of us, did he?”

You heard it and while you weren’t fond of the scientists who’d brought you here, they were still human. It made your stomach turn as Rollo perked up with a smile as Idia loosely pointed out a few Malleus had missed. The silver Naga darted off from you two, eager to get his hands bloodied with the humans he’d been loathing for months.

“C’mon (Y/n), he might get too excited and leave us behind.”

Accepting Idia’s invitation you climb his back, rubbing your watering eyes into the vast expanse of his cerulean locks. Taking deep breaths you try to distract yourself with the smooth gliding of his tail and the occasional demented giggling he lets out while watching the drone screen. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you’re glad you declined Malleus’ offer to carry you while he cleared a path. When you warned him about the use of guns or explosives he laughed, informing you that ‘the pellets sent in the past were nothing for someone as familiar with fire’ as he. As much as you’d love to watch him deflect, you assured him you’d be more helpful in the rear. Promising you’d be able to guide the three of you out of the facility without putting any of you in too much danger—much to Rollo’s displeasure. The plan hinges on Malleus’ destructive capabilities and the other captive creatures also take advantage. 

Idia slowed as he cautiously turned the corner to find Rollo throwing a formerly alive scientist into a nearby wall. Still controlling the drone it provided a cleared path to the entrance of the zoo and parking lot, save for the few guests running in fear. 

“It seems like Malleus is already headed to your place.”

You sighed as you pictured the giant Naga scaring your neighbors. Unfortunately, when you tried to convince him of another rendezvous point he dismissed your worries—claiming that he’d love to enjoy himself in the quaint confines of your human nest. You just hoped he hadn’t destroyed your furniture while squeezing into the tight space. Rollo pulled you out of your 

“Now how do we get to your ‘inconspicuous’ route?”

“We have to go to the car park.”

They both looked at each other before looking at you again. 

“The place where we put the metal tools with wheels.”

“Oh!” “Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning.”

Mapping out the way with Idia’s drone you urged the duo to move quickly; ignoring their not-so-silent snickering about ‘how you were the slow one with your tiny single-jointed legs.’ The surreal relief of stepping over scientists’ bodies and opening the staff-only door you had been escorted through just hours before. The sun was setting now and you were grateful that it looked like the general zoo was closed now. It made the laughable scene of shoving two Nagas into your car less conspicuous. At this point the only battle was driving with those two bickering right in your ear. 

“Don’t touch me!”

“I literally can’t right now! Maybe if you scooched a litte-”

“Me!? Scooch!? Are you blind?”

“Why are you being so pissy lately!?”

“ME!? PISSY?! YOU WANT ME TO SHOW YOU—”

After a short eternity of driving; finally, you could open the door to your destination, watching as they unfurled and wiggled away from each other. All that was left was for you to unlock–or rather just open the door seeing as it was already unlocked. What a promising sign.

“So this is my house, feel free to make yourselves at ho—”

The feeling of wind slapping your face and the disappearing silver tail past a corner was another shock. As if sensing your disbelief Idia curled around you unbearably close nuzzling into your neck while humming.

“He’s just worried Malleus took over all your smell.”

“Really? I thought he just wanted to find someplace far from us.”

“...Maybe that too…”

“I see.”

“You got any games?”

It took a while to get inside the actual door considering Idia was refusing to release you from his hold. Inching yourself into your home it was apparent Malleus had made himself at home, draped over your couch, the kitchen, and all hallways was his emerald shimmering tail. Standing firm–almost rocklike as you struggled to climb past with ease.  You were able to shake Idia off you when you introduced him to your television, leaving him with instructions not to break anything you set out to find the Naga all spread throughout the house. 

It was a battle trying to balance yourself on the steps that were being majorly taken by the muscular tail draped on the entirety of the stairs. But you made it, taking a breath before pushing the door to your room–-it was halfway closed on the rest of Malleus’ tail. 

Taking up the entirety of the room was Malleus, leaning low on the side of your bed, imitating what would’ve been a person kneeling. The level he was in served its purpose as it seemed, he was whispering something in Rollo’s ear. The grumpy Naga was perfectly curled, fitting on your bed as he laid face down into your pillow. He was violently clutching the plush cotton but the seconds that you spied Malleus’ whispering it seemed to weaken. 

Malleus turned and smiled, “Happy your home, (Y/n)!” 

Slithering away from Rollo he held you into his chest, lightly digging his nose into your head. No doubt, smelling you for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t tell if he was intentionally blocking your vision or genuinely interested in what he was asking.

“Do you have anything to eat, (Y/n)?”

“I can make something real fast, though I don’t know if it’ll be any good,” you glanced at his tail,” or enough.”

“That is fine, shall we go?”

He was already moving you with him as he headed to the door. You tried to look past him at Rollo but Malleus was intent on leading you out. 

“What about Rollo isn’t he hungry?”

Malleus completely took you off the floor, carrying you down the stairs while nuzzling his head into your own. Figuring he was attempting to calm you, you stopped trying to look tucking your legs up higher as he reached the ground floor.

“He will be fine for now. Do not worry about him.”

__________________________________________________________

The sun had long since set and the kitchen was closed. The only human within the house was fast asleep under the covers, subconsciously fighting the blue-scaled Naga who was dutifully playing with a switch. His tail was curled between his human’s legs in a snug hold casually gaming while his human snored into the night. 

The other two Naga were downstairs, sitting in the dark without the lights on. They didn’t need it. Their gray and green eyes can see each other perfectly clear. Rollo was on what (Y/n) called a couch coiling his tail repeatedly while he kneaded at the pillow he’d been squeezing for over six hours. Now and then dragging his nose along the cover while inhaling the scent of its original owner still lingering in the linen. 

“I am still hungry.”

Malleus kept his distance leaning over the back of the couch and letting his head rest on his arms. His gaze worriedly flickering to his mate’s face and then to the permanent puncture marks into his pale unattended neck.

“Are you listening?”

Rollo was turned around now as if aware that his giant mate was distracted from listening to his woes whining. He was peeved for many reasons. The irritating scent of other inferior humans on both sides of his newest mate’s home. The occasional whiff of dominance his other mate was exuding and the inferiority that came with being near him. But most of all the lack of a filling meal was on his mind; especially when just hours before perfect morsels surrounded him.

“I am.”

The husky voice and the feeling of Malleus’ weight curling around his smaller tail was a constant reminder of his mate’s comforting superiority. This was evident for the same reason he hadn’t gorged himself while leaving the prison, he dreamed of eating his way out of. Just as he hated he loved Malleus knew this was what the problem was.

“You were not able to eat during your escape.”

It wasn’t a question, the plan never included him needing to attack others. Granted there were a few outliers, but it wasn’t enough to satiate him. Even worse there were quite a few opportunities to eat some humans-paralyzed with fear. But he refrained, for the their newest mate was too judgmental and it would be inconvenient if they tried to run now.

“Hardly, it wasn’t enough to keep any one full.”

Malleus purred as he ran his fingers up the spine of his mate, letting his tail lock around Rollo’s as he shivered.

“I am grateful you kept (Y/n)’s happiness in mind.”

Rollo huffed, “Was there ever a doubt I wouldn’t?”

Malleus answered with a kiss to his hips, unraveling himself as he made his way to a window that was already opened. 

“How about we both ‘eat out?’ (Y/n) was certain there would be an influx of their law enforcement attempting to discover what was going on.”

 Rollo smirked, “Sounds delicious. I say we go!”

 Rollo didn’t need to be told twice dashing past Malleus and onto the darkened allies in the direction of the zoon. Before Malleus could follow he looked to stairs with a woeful pout. 

“Don’t make that face, I’ve got (Y/n). We’ll be fine.”

Malleus tilted his head as if to ask, ‘Are you sure?’

Idia rolled his golden eyes, finally looking up from his game to capture the lips of the greedy dragon. After a minute of Idia attempting to accomplish his game while sucking the forked tongue down his throat, he was released with a loving nip to his neck. 

“Have a nice meal you two.”

[littlxpxtal]

The Beach

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3k

If I told you that I loved you

Tell me, what would you say?

If I told you that I hated you

Would you go away?

Now I need your help with everything that I do

I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

Fallin' again

I need a pick-me-up

I've been callin' you "friend,"

I might need to give it up

April

Fuck you

I hover my thumb over the send button for a long breath. When I exhale, I press send, click my phone off and toss it onto my bed. It lands face down.

I walk over to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and striping down.

The pogues went back to the cut, sending JJ off into the swamp lands with a backpack full of food and camping gear. We are hoping in the next few days we can figure something out to make sure he can come back home safely.

While I shower, I think of all the new information I learned about the mission, and how getting the rest of the gold out was the next goal, but they would have to do it very strategically.

My mind wanders to rafe for a second, and I wonder if he’s back from his trip. Then I remember I hate him, and don’t want to hear back from him. I think about how after my shower, i'm going to block him. I should’ve done that after sending the message anyways.

I’m not entirely sure why it took me so long to send it. I drafted that text the same night JJ and I talked about rafe. I think it just took me a bit of time to finally be able to let go, and let him know I refuse to be treated like this.

There was a small part of me that hoped he already blocked me, so he wouldn’t even see the message from me.

Tomorrow is the last day of spring break, and my family will be back on the outbreaks by nightfall. I think about how I’ll try my best to be asleep by the time they get back tomorrow so I can avoid any questions.

The pogues helped me clean everything, washed bed sheets and dishes, took out the trash and wiped everything down. There was no trace of life in the house, not even from me.

I make mental to do lists of what I still need to do before graduation, what i should wear to school this week, and what color to polish my nails. My mind wanders and runs a million miles a minute as I step out of the shower, ringing my hair into the towel, and plopping it on top of my head. I lotion my body and face up, then wrap myself in a robe.

When I walk out of my bathroom, a shriek spaces my lips.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of my bed, and he’s playing with one of the trinkets from my book shelf.

“What’re you-“ I hold on tightly to the doorknob, ready to run back into the bathroom if needed. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

“You shouldn’t leave the door that leads from the outside, directly into your bedroom, unlocked. Especially when you’re home alone.” He says coyly.

“I think we are privileged enough to know that we don’t really have to worry about those kinds of things here on figure 8, now do we?” I tilt my head, and take in his presence. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up. His eyes are on my body, wrapped up in a silk sobe.

“Why are you texting me all crazy like that for, hm?” His eyes finally flicker up to meet mine. They are cold and hard. I glance over to scan my room, find anything to pique my interest enough to not give into the urge to look back at him. My heartbeat raced and I felt my mouth get drier by the second.

“I had been wanting to say it for days, but I figured it would be best if I waited until you were done with your trip so I didnt bother you.’ he scoffs and stands up, taking a step towards me. I responded with a small step backwards, my breath hitching in my throat.

“You think some text behind a screen would’ve ruined my trip? You think saying “fuck you” to me, is something I would get worked up about?”

my lips trembles, my body is reacting in a way as if im getting scolded, or reprimanded for speaking back to an adult.

I don’t speak, my body freezes and he takes another step towards me, his head dipping down.

“You think I care about the fact that you helped hide maybank here at your house?” I hyelped, and my hands trembled. I looked down at the ground, and he’s finally close enough where I can smell his cologne.

He hooks his finger under my chin, and I flinch. My back is pressed against the doorframe, and he leans forward, pushing my chin up, and y eyes meet his,

“Cat got your tongue?” He coos, his eyes look manic, and there’s a slight tremor in his hand.

“I think you do care. And it would’ve ruined your trip.” I finally croak out, letting out the breath I had been holding.

“And I mean it. Fuck you rafe. Fuck you and the mind games you play with me. Your not even my boyfriend and you like to control everything, and if i'm not doing something you Like, you use move onto another one of your girls. Like im disposable, like i dont matter. And I know i Fucking matter to you.”

I dont really mean to say the last part, but it came out anyways. I was just being honest.

He doesn’t respond for a while so we stand in silence, and he stares down at me, his finger still holding under my chin.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I dont object, but I dont open my mouth for more.

“You dont mean it” his whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes i do” I mumble, my brain getting light from the feeling he brought in my mind.

his other hands reach up and trailing down the valley of my chest against the robe. His fingers make it down to where the rob is tied, and he glances up with a smirk.

“Tell me, y/n, did you finally sleep with him? Did you get back at me?” He hot breath fans against my chest, and he lowers on his knees, slowly pulling open the tied pieces of my robe.

”What Don't you get about the fact that JJ and I don't do that. Never have and never will.” I try my best to pretend I am unaffected by the way his fingers trail up my inner thigh, right to the line of my robe, barely hanging open. His lips press right below my naval, and a whimper escapes my lips.

“It would’ve ruined my trip” he whispers, using his hands to open my legs, I press harder against the wall, the towel on my head finally dropping to the ground, I pull my wet hair to one side, looking down at rafe. His pupils are blown, his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for my response.

“I know it would’ve” I say with a smirk.

”you give me a constant headache” he grumbles, pressing another kiss to the inside of my thigh.

”You Make this whole thing so hard. Would be easier if you just stopped overreacting” I retaliate, bending my knees slightly, opening up my thighs more. He grips my hips and Iicks a strip up my slit.

“Wheres the fun in that?” He says with a chuckle before diving in, suckling on my clit, his fingers burned deep into my hips. I moaned out in pleasure, my hands entangling themselves in his hair.

He hums with pleasure against my heat, and I find myself panting, my head hung low, bottom lip between my teeth.

“So did you fuck her again?” I ask, hissing as he sucks hard on my clit in response.

“Nah” he responds quickly, before his mouth attaches back to my folds, his tongue lapping up and down rhythmically.

I whimper a few times, and he looks up to my eye contact with me.

“You’re easy to piss off” he says against my pussy.

”sounds like you do it on purpose” I groan and bcuck my hips against his face. He releases his mouth, its covered in my slick, and his eyes are still blown out. His right hand trails down, and he runs two fingers between my folds, pushing into my hole, just teasing it slightly. I breath out heavily and he smirks.

“You’re fun to play with” he drawls out, his eyes focuses on the way his fingers are sliding into and out, deeper with each pump. My legs start to shake as he curls his fingers inside. Once they are fully inside , he quickens his pace, the silence in the room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me.

“‘M not a fucking toy” I grit out, pulling his hard harder, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel myself reaching my peak. He doesn’t respond, and instead brings his mouth back up to my clit, flicking it with his tongue, swirling around in circles, clockwise then counterclockwise.

“Fuckkkkk” I groan out, seeing white behind my closed lids. I cum all over rafes face. I dont get to ride it very long, before he’s dragging me over to the bed, and pushing my face down, ass up. He pulls the robe full off my body, and presses my face down into the pillows, I feel himself line his cock up with my entrance, and he pushes in.

”Rafe” I groan, holding out the sheets with all my might. I finish riding out my high as he pounds into me from behind, his hands gripped on both sides of my hips.

Profanities slip from his mouth, accompanied with a few whimpers of my name.

I gain enough strength to push my self up, so im in tabletop position, while he still pumps in and out of me. I turn my head and look back to see the hoods of his eyes are hanging low, his jaw is slack, his tongue peaking out the side, and drips of sweat are beading on his forehead. A whimper erupts from his mouth, and he grunts after, his eyes snapping open to meet mine, as if he sensed me looking at him.

“This what you wanted? Huh?” I bat my lashes innocently and bit my bottom lip.

”Wanted to piss me off so much I just had to come over and fuck you just to get you to shut the fuck up? Huh pretty girl?” My eyes roll back and my head hangs down. He’s tsks his tongue, leaning forward, one hand gripped tightly on my hips, the other gathers my hair in his fist, and he yanks me back, my shoulders pressing up against his chest. He cocks his fist down to the right, angling my head up and back to look up at him. His pace hasn’t faltered once, and the continuing sound of my pussy squelching against his throbbing cock is only getting louder, I can no longer contain my moans, and I squeeze my eyes shut as they spill out of my mouth. He takes this opportunity of my open my mouth to spit in it. My eyes shoot open, and we hold eye contact for a second before I swallow and he smiles.

“All you have to do is ask nicely you know?” His grip on my hair still tight, and his dick is ramming into my harder than before.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” I whisper, looking deep into his eyes. His smile never faulters, and he leans down and kisses me.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again” he says, breathing into my mouth, his eyes shut, still pounding relentless into me.

“What? Oh, Fuck you” I whimper out. Everything happens so quickly.

His eyes snap open and they darken, he lets go of my hair, pushing me down by my shoulder too the bed.

”Don’t.” He gives my ass a hard slap, making me yelp out.

”Ever” he pulls his dick out, and grabs my hips, flipping me onto my back.

”fucking” he pushing my legs open, and wraps them around his hips.

”say that” his right hand reaches up and wraps around my throat, putting just enough pressure.

”again” he growls the last word before ramming himself into me.

I lift my head up and attach my mouth on his shoulder, sucking harshly to cover the moans I wanted to scream out. His head rests against mine, and he grunts.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He breathes out heavily, and looks down at me. We make eye contact and I pout, refusing to give in. His hand is still on my throat, and he gives it a squeeze. I groan in response, shutting my eyes.

“Look at me” he commands. My eyes flutter open and he has a smirk on his face.

“I’ll only be a good girl if you promise to stop fucking other girls”

His hips stutter a second before he completely stops. The grip on my throat is released,and he pushes himself up on both hands, hovering over me, my legs still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“Is that what you really want?” He asks sincerely.

I wiggle my hips to try and get him to keep going, but he doesn’t budge.

“I dunno. Can we just keep fucking?” I please, grabbing onto his bicep and reaching up to kiss his neck.

“Sure” he whispers before thrusting again.

We dont say anything the rest of the time, until Rafe is about to cum.

”’m close”

”Not inside me” I protest.

”Fucking duh” he grumbles into my neck before pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He immediately stands up, grabs a tissue and starts cleaning me off.

Once he’s done, he passes me my robe, and he puts his clothes back on.

“Well, are we like good now?” He asks, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

”Yea, we always were”

”Right” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Im just gonna” he points towards the door he snuck through. I nod my head in understanding, and watch him leave. I turned off my bedside lamp, and laid in silence.

My moment of self loathing was interrupting by my phone ringing.

Sabrina

I answer immediately

“Sab?” I say into the phone, sitting up.

”Y/N, you need to get down to the beach right now. Like NOW”

I furrow my brow, take my phone from my ear to check the time. I was 9:27pm

”I dont know Sab I was about to go to bed honestly.”

”Bitch, it’s the last night of spring break. And mostly everyone is back, and we’re partying on the beach. Get here NOW” she yells the last part into the phone before hanging up. I hurriedly pack a bag with miscellaneous illegal items, slip on a hoodie and shorts then run out the door. I check Sabrina’s location to see where on the beach she was, and it was decently close for me to make it on foot.

When I arrive, I see a mix of faces, those I get along with, and those who I simply pretend dont exist on a regular basis. Before Sabrina sees me, I catch a glimpse of rafe. He’s taking a drag of a cig while Kelce talks to him and Topper. Topper looks semi interested, while rafe looks like he couldn’t care less. His face looks angry and hard. And hot. Like. Really fucking hot.

Before I could analyze his face more, Sabrina yells out my name, and his head whips in my direction. I look away before our eyes meet, and smile when they land on Sabrina.

“Hi baby, I missed you” she cried out, standing up to greet me with a hug. She’s sitting on a towel that topper brought. I smile down at them and look around to see where I can set up. Conveniently, there’s a spot next to rafe in between him and some random kook.

“Why dont you go sit by rafe and cheer him up a bit. He’s in one of his moods.” Topper jokes, nudging his head over. I give a fake smile and trudge over, laying my towel down without acknowledging him.

When I sit down, he gives me a Look.

“What? We’re you saving this for someone?” I say with a smirk. He gives me a fake smile, and laugh then rolls his eyes.

I pul out the bottle of wine I stole from my parents bar and take a big gulp. I hand it out to him, and he takes it, drinking a small mouthful before passing it back.

We get along cordially, mainly because we dot actually talk to each other. We just silently pass the bottle back and forth between each other, while people chatter among us.

When the night gets late, and everyone starts slowly leaving the beach, it ends up just me and rafe, my head laying on his lap, staring at the stars as he stroked my hair and looked out into the ocean.

”This is nice” he mumbles. I nod my head in agreement and he looks down.

His face is sad, and his eyes are brimmed with tears.

“Y/N, I dont think I can be the person you need.” He whispers, and a tear slips down from his face and lands on my cheek. He wipes it away then looks back out into the ocean.

“Could you try?” I as. My face is hot and flushed from the alcohol, and I was probably going to say something I would later regret. But i don't care. I wanted him to want to try for me.

“You might have to teach me”

“Okay” I whisper. “Rafe?”

”Yes, Y/N?”

”Can you take me home? And will you stay with me?” He smiles.

“Of course”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: @ltristessedureratoujours @davinashifts333 @tomholland792

[laswells-ashtray]

It’s 9 AM where I am now and I have work at 10 (no car). I’m pretty certain I have some type of chest cold/phenomena, but I’m not 100% sure. And I’m on my period.

Can you info dump about all of the little COD ideas you have in your head so I can read about it on my break or when I get off? If that makes sense? It doesn’t have to be full stories, just the Autism Thoughts.

Damn, and to think I just had dinner. To be fair it was an early dinner but it was homemade spaghetti and it was fucking banging. Don't die of illness and such, also if you've cursed me I swear to God because whenever anyone tells me about their period I end up synced with them and that's happened seven separate times. It's like fucked up Bluetooth. And to the one person who reads this and thinks I'm oversharing, what are you gonna do about it?

Ghost has, and will again smack Soap across the back of the head for referring to food as "orgasmic" in public.

Nikolai has a penchant for hazelnut Happy Hippos. He has sworn John to secrecy but God forbid that man smoke a joint and get near a box of those fuckers.

Alejandro and Rudy once got into an argument because Rudy admitted that out of all of Alejandro's nieces and nephews, Rudy has a favourite. The argument only ended because after Rudy named his favourite, Alejandro realised that it was his favourite niece too.

Once while drunk, a baby gay let Kate hit her vape in a bar and Kate considers it the lowest she's ever gotten while drinking, this is nowhere near true. She threw up in a man's mouth when he tried to kiss her while she was drunk in her early twenties, she does not regret it. Nor should she.

On more than one occasion, Farah has woken up to find Alex's face smashed against her shoulder with him drooling on her shirt. She'll never say a word because it's endearing, it's adorable and if she told him he'd never sleep next to her again.

Speaking of, Alex is a wrestling guy. He's always liked The Undertaker bit, especially the entrance music but he doesn't like the man behind the costume. Follows Stone Cold on an Instagram account that he has mainly for watching reals, he likes photos of Stone Cold with his chickens or his cats. Loved the Punkintyre feud, and sided with Punk because he's a good ol American boy but Drew McIntyre awakens something deeply bisexual inside of him. Likes watching Cena and Bautista in any movies they're in, loved them back in the day. Fucking loves Toni Storm's transatlantic, old-timey actress bit.

Valeria is a reader, likes a good murder mystery with a glass of wine and some takeout. Will sit down to read a chapter or two and finish the book. She has a shelf full of her favourites, she'll read them online first but the ones she loves, she buys a copy of. The only non-murder mystery books she owns a physical copy of are the Jurassic Park novels but she bought ones with sophisticated covers so no one would be able to tell unless they open up to the inside page.

He isn't scared of them but Simon is deeply mistrusting of swans. He refuses to explain why to anyone, he just calls them cunts and moves on with his life.

John's go-to move when Nikolai is irritated with him is to drop to his knees and unzip Nik's zipper with his teeth. The Russian goes for it every time even when he knows it's just John's way of playing with him.

[glitter-stained]

I know some people argue that robin!Jason and Dick were never close post-crisis pre n52 because they only interacted a couple of times in canon and I understand that due to Dick living away when they first met they wouldn't be as close as the relationship Dick has with some of his other siblings, but I would also wish we would take in account that for all three of Jason's years, we have like 30 issues of Jason's run. That's exceedingly small. We have batman #416, we have that one moment in teen titans (i forgot the issue) of jason working with the team, and i think the ski trip we found out later about was included in the same canon*. (also, i do feel like even if you didn't know/like eachother before going on a ski trip together by the end of the ski trip this will have changed, and the picture definitely felt like they were getting along even though Jason's face in the picture was comically weird.) I'm not sure if there were other interactions shown or mentioned, but hey, 2-3/30ish isn't a bad score at all! If we're going 3/30, that's a whole tenth of Jason's robin era.

(And I'm talking about their relationship from Dick's pov since it's the one in question here but it's clear to me in Jason's run, even post-crisis, that Dick is often on his mind and important in his life (with a certain inferiority complex the little siblings of very cool people know well) with stuff like I think Batman #410 or Jason is Legends.)

And even more importantly, 30ish is extremely short for three damn years. That's ten issues per year! Do we assume that Jason was sitting on a shelf for the whole time he's not working with batman in the comics? Do we assume batman was sitting on a shelf twiddling his thumbs all that time during those three years he appears, either? It's perfectly logical to make the assumption that Bruce and Jason were still going out as goddamn Batman and Robin even when it's not shown on screen and having a relationship and interacting together even when it's not seen. In fact it's the most reasonable and logical assumption even. It's obvious Jason and Bruce's interactions extend past what was shown on screen so why wouldn't Dick and Jason? We know from Dick's relationship to his death that Dick cared about Jason. We know how much his death impacted him. Regardless of the (now retconned) terrible mess that was their relationship after Jason came back, they had a relationship, and it was good, and how deep it went is up to interpretation but it doesn't cheapen or lessen any of Dick's relationship with his other siblings to acknowledge that (like, seriously, even though some of them might view it as such in the story, dick's love isn't a prize that can only go to the one blorbo to win the competition. Personally I don't see Robin Jason being his favourite, and that's fine. Probably since, as I only have one sibling to be weird about, this is one aspect of Dick and Jason's relationship that I don't project onto them.)

There's a difference between saying "those are the only canon interactions between Dick and Robin!Jason that we know of" and saying "those are the only interactions that happened between Jason and Dick when Jason was Robin", especially if the next sentence is going to be something like "read a comic". I want to insist that I'm not saying that they have to have been super close. All I'm saying is I don't see, with the knowledge I personally have of canon and the retcons I choose to disregard (because of terrible writing), why considering that they were close wouldn't be canon compliant.

Leeway, nuance and up to interpretation stuff are fun and should matter for evaluating the level of canon compliance of your own headcanons, and I think it's especially important when trying to police other people's interpretation of canon: are you certain their interpretation is fanon and you're correcting it with the right canon, or is it a case of two headcanons clashing in the blank space between comic pages?

I just found it strange to never see it taken in account in the sometimes pretty emphatic takes I saw on the debate around their relationship, so those are my two cents on the matter. All this to say, [theatre joke in coming], when it comes to Dick and Jaybin, we could all stand to be more chill.

* btw i'm excluding dixon's nightwing year one from this conversation because I hate how it manages to shit on every one of the characters i've seen him write in it so violently and also fuck dixon, my jason comes from post-crisis not that crappy weirdo retcon.