#because it was pretty rocky in moments

[katierosefun]

today has been such a wild up and down and up and down moment for me because i got a text message from my favorite person in the world at like. 6:52 am wishing me luck on first day of classes for the second semester, and then classes were . . . interesting (ie. professors + class content is all really exciting, but boy some of my sectionmates just. keep driving me insane. why do people still act like they’re in high school). and then my college friends and i made plans to hang out this sunday. and then my three hour class turned out to just be super awkward (again: why are some of my sectionmates like. fucking high schoolers). and then i texted my friend who made me feel ten times more valid for my shared fun fact (ie. everyone looked at me like an idiot for saying that i used to memorize an entire movie script when i was thirteen. and for saying that i would like to explore deep space at one point). and then i realized i need to go back to my place (which always fills me with a certain dread). and then i learned that my roommate had very kindly dragged up my heavy-ass packages up the stairs today (which made me cry because for a split second i thought my landlord had stolen my packages, and i’m so sad that’s something i genuinely need to worry about now, but like. i really worried about that). and then i hopped on a zoom meeting and rambled for 2 seconds too long because “sorry my camera’s off, i’m making dinner rn oh no i’m freezing aren’t i” and it was very chaotic so i felt bad for no reason. and then i found out my contracts professor has finally posted the grade, and guys. it’s my highest doctrinal classes grade. do you know how weird that is. contracts was literally the class i for sure thought i was going to fail. and it’s my highest grade. what the fuck--

[3hks]

How to Write REALISTIC and SMOOTH Dialogue

In a story, dialogue is quite important, it helps the readers paint a picture of what's happening and the characters themselves. However, it can be difficult to avoid the unnaturalness and choppiness that comes with a lack of experience. But luckily, I have put together A LOT of advice on how you can get over that rockiness and improve!

*** KEEPING YOUR DIALOGUE REALISTIC, AND PACING ***

>> Keep your characters in character:

Dialogue is a remarkably quick way for readers to determine your character's personality. Thus, you want their speech patterns to remain fairly consistent so the audience won't get confused. If your character is more serious, then they will use less slang and perhaps a more impressive vocabulary. If your character is more relaxed, they will use more slang and compress the words. (such as "dunno," "kay," "y'know," etc.)

Basically, you want their tone to match their traits so the way that they talk is more realistic and personlized to themselves. If the way all your characters speak is the same, there's something wrong. A strong tip is to put yourself in your character's shoes and imagine how they would respond!

>> Take the situation into consideration:

This is another part of keeping your characters in, well, character. Different emotional situations will have a different effect on separate people, so make sure that you have an idea of how your character will act during stressful, irritating, and sad times.

If your character is normally cold, they will struggle if it comes to comforting other people because they have less experience in that field.

>> Don't take too long with their words:

Unlike when narrating something, most people talk just to get the idea across. They will be more specific and quicker with what they say. (This excludes any character who likes to talk a lot.) Unless it's on purpose, they won't dance around the topic. Think of when you casually chat with your friends; you're pretty unlikely to use certain words and/or phrases that might be common to use while narrating.

If you want to explain something complicated, instead of writing out a paragraph of just one person talking, use a question-and-answer prompt! This is where another character continuously asks related questions that get answered by another person, so you can indirectly reveal your explanation.

*** HOW TO WRITE A SMOOTHER CONVERSATION AND DIALOGUE TAGS***

>> Having a variety of dialogue tags:

This is a pretty basic thing to look out for if you're new to writing conversations. Using words like "said," every other sentence can easily make it feel choppy and robotic. Instead, use words like "murmured," "smirked," etc. to paint some emotion into their words. Additionally, vary the location of the dialogue tags! They don't all have to go after the statement, you can include something in the beginning or even the middle, too!

Examples:

Beginning - She tilted her head, "What are you talking about?"

Middle - "Oh," he blinked, "I actually never thought about that."

End - "Wait up!" She exclaimed loudly, waving her hands around.

>> Using no dialogue tags to create a smooth conversation:

Having too many tags can also overwhelm your reader--remember, sentence variety is a crucial part of writing--so you can always drop them if they're unneeded. This applies when your characters (two is the suggested amount) are talking back and forth in a pattern straightforward enough for the reader to understand who's talking without it having to be labeled.

Dropping dialogue tags in these moments can create a smoother atmosphere during the conversation because the reader only has to focus on the talking present.

*** USING SLANG, STUTTERS, FILLER WORDS, AND PAUSES ***

Human speech is often not perfect; when talking, we often make mistakes such as filler words, grammatically incorrect phrases, etc. Hence, for more natural-sounding dialogue, it's important to incorporate some of these.

>> Pauses and stutters:

When reading dialogue, we read it at a steady pace unless it's written otherwise. However, that steady pace can soon get too robotic and too smooth. Luckily, there are several ways to change this! You can use dialogue tags, (ex: she quickly spoke) commas, and ellipsis (...). These are often integrated when the character is hesitant, nervous, answering something, or when they need to admit something. The same idea applies to stutters--they're mainly used to demonstrate anxiousness, which can be found in varying situations.

>> Filler words and slang:

Filler words can really just be used where you see fit. They may be used in the situations I previously mentioned (because it shows someone stumbling over their words) but it's ultimately up to you!

Slang, just like everything else, should not be used too often, or it will seem forced and exaggerated. The point is to sound natural, and increasing amounts of repetitiveness can ruin it. It's also important to remember that in real life, our conversations move slower; when someone speaks, another person usually doesn't respond quite literally, right after. However, in writing, dialogue can actually often seem that way, which is why using tags and these imperfections of speech is pivotal for building a realistic conversation!

*** CONCLUSION ***

Lastly, a key point when writing dialogue is to ALWAYS read the conversations! Whether it be in your head or out loud, it can often help you catch anything that seems off! Additionally, like I mentioned at the very beginning, write dialogue from your character's perspective! Imagine yourself as them and how they/you would talk. Try to keep your dialogue tags, sentences, and word use varied to create a natural conversation!

If you were struggling before, I hope that this (extra) long guide was able to really offer you some insight and useful tips! If you read this far, thank you!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

[sarcasticassian]

one day in Family Video Robin and Eddie are talking about films, some gay, some not and Steve is half listening but he eventually decides to join in because hey he’s watched a film with a gay couple in it before so that counts right? He tells the others this, feeling quite proud of himself and they both look kinda incredulous and so Steve, feeling helpful, is like I’ll go find them hang on, we should have copies

and Robin is dumbfounded because the only gay movie Family Video, because it’s right there in the name this place is mainly for families, have is The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Robin is pretty sure that’s because Keith didn’t know what he was ordering in because he admitted he’d never seen it but her and Eddie watch Steve trot off to the sci fi section, sharing confounded looks and waiting for him to return in silence

Steve comes back clutching three tapes to his chest and proceeds to drop the Star Wars trilogy onto the counter in between Eddie and Robin, he looks so proud of himself as he leans into Eddie for a moment blinking his big cow eyes at him, like he’s waiting for approval, Eddie decides for once in his life to keep his mouth shut until he’s figured out just what he’s supposed to say

Robin has no such qualms though and just states a fact for them all ‘this is Star Wars, Steve’, ‘yeah! kinda crazy, right?’, ‘sorry, where is there a gay couple in Star Wars? I know you and Dustin watch them a lot but I feel like I’d have noticed’, Steve’s expression drops slightly and Eddie feels so bad because Steve looks like a sad sad puppy and Eddie wants to wrap him up in a giant cuddle

‘are the robots not gay?’ is what softly breaks the momentary silence that has settled between the three of them

‘they sure are’ Eddie blurts out, determined to keep Steve happy and it works because a smile blooms across Steve’s face again and he nods to himself, leaning against Eddie again instead of on the counter like he normally would, Robin stares and Eddie narrows his eyes and then she’s nodding along too, ‘oh yeah, yeah, how could I forget about those funky little guys? they’re definitely married’

and the conversation moves on, Robin recalling Steve and Dustin’s nerdy handshake which makes Steve press his face into Eddie’s shoulder to hide his burning cheeks when Eddie crows in delight and they only send each other a little smirk the next time the Party is watching Star Wars with them and 40 years down the line Eddie sends Steve a tweet about R2D2 and C3PO having gay vibes and Steve starts cackling in the middle of his 9th graders history test and they all demand an extra five minutes because he distracted them all

[her-favorite]

A HUNCH; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!(QUIET)!READER

warnings: none!

a/n: requested! hopefully you like it anon! <3

wc: 1,154 (short)

SYNOPSIS: The beginning of a relationship may be rocky, but with you and Matt, it never happened that way. He understood you more than anyone else, and he always knew what you wanted before you even had to say it.

-

You knew it was kind of foolish to be nervous to ask something of someone - especially someone like your boyfriend - but it never came easy to you.

You and Matt have only been official for a little over two months, but it’s already been a million times better than your other relationships. You’ve known him and the triplets for a little while now and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to Matt the very second you saw him. His perfectly parted hair, his pretty eyes, his smile.

For someone as reserved as yourself, your closest friends around you could always tell you had more than just kind feelings for the boy. But being that reserved person, it wasn’t easy to admit something like that, let alone tell Matt you’ve developed romantic feelings for him. So, you spent years trying to convince yourself that your admiration for the boy was purely platonic. You couldn’t face it if he were to reject you; you wouldn’t just be losing the boy you loved, but your best friends, too.

To anyone else but you, it was even more obvious the feelings Matt has for you were. Lingering glances, smiling a little too wide when you decided to participate in a group activity, or the butterflies he felt swarming in his stomach when he ‘accidentally’ sits a tad too close to you on the couch. But he could never tell you how he feels.. you’d only reject him, right?

After far too long, Nick and Chris were tired of the silent pining. From the quiet, defeated sighs that left your mouth when Matt didn’t join your movie nights, to the whining from their brother about how much he wishes you were his girl.

Once the two boys were done playing matchmaker, you and Matt couldn’t be happier together. With the relationship still being in its early stages, it still took some getting used to everything a real relationship comes with. It never upset you, you were more than happy to be able to experience something like this with the man you were hopelessly in love with for the past few years. But that didn’t mean anything about you changed.

You still liked to keep to yourself, to not cause a distraction, or to not speak when you didn’t feel like doing so. And Matt still (and will always) loves that about you.

You both tended to be quiet people, especially in public, it just felt more natural to the two of you. And with that, it was easier to confide in each other, since you both understand how the other may feel in that moment. You couldn’t be more ecstatic to have such a patient and understanding boyfriend.

But even with your love and trust in him, the anxiousness for rejection still lingered in the back of your mind. You were never one for hugs or anything of the sort, but with Matt… it was different. His touch was comforting and safe; it left you with a warm feeling inside.

You wanted it.. you just hated asking for it.

It wasn’t too often that Matt held you in his arms, besides at night. If he notices you becoming anxious in a public setting, he’ll immediately reach for your hand and bring you close to him, but other than that, Matt just doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

He’d love to smother your face with kisses and make you rest on his chest while you guys watch a movie together, but he knows that sometimes physical touch can be too much on a bad day.

Every since he met you, he always found you interesting. Not just because you were quiet or held a lot of the same qualities as him, but because of the way you handle yourself (your beauty was just a bonus). From then on, he’s studied the way you react to certain phrases and plans and made sure to either avoid specific outings or to do something that came natural to him: being quiet. Sometimes silence can be tense and awkward, but with Matt, it was only the opposite. It felt secure, a soft layer of comfortable solitude shared with another person.

As you sat on the couch at the triplets’ house, you wait for your boyfriend to get out of the bathroom as you click through unseen movies. Hearing the door creak, it grabs your ears’ attention but doesn’t make your head turn.

“Finally.” You tease softly, glancing over at him. Matt walks over to you in a plain white tee with plaid pajama pants, the untied string seemingly holding them up without having to be tied. His hair was slightly messy, his hands in it just seconds prior. Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the pretty man, your eyes focus back on the tv screen a few feet away.

“Hey.” Matt huffs lightly, throwing himself down on the couch beside you. “Did you pick anything yet?” He asks, following your line of sight, watching the movie titles pass by. With a shake of your head in response, he chuckles softly. “You’re making fun of me for how long I was in the bathroom, but you haven’t picked a movie the entire time?” He says playfully, poking your side gently. Smacking his hand away once it starts to tickle, you send him a joking glare, a small smile tugging at your lips once you see his.

A few minutes pass and you both decide to rewatch one of your favorites, too exhausted to pick and find a new one. Sitting beside him, Matt sprawled out on his couch, giving his legs room to stretch. He quickly picked up on your tense body language as your legs scrunch up under yourself and the way - only he could see - your fingers twitched, signaling for something more.

“C’mere, baby,” Matt broke the silent argument in your head as you looked over at him. He was motioning for you to get closer as he lightly patted his legs. Sensing your hesitation, his hands envelope your hips, gasping when he drags you over towards him. Lying you down on top of him, he wraps his arms around your back, squeezing you into him. “‘S’this okay?” He whispers, his head resting on yours as you dig yours further into his neck.

“Mhm,” humming in response, your once-tense body relaxes in his hold, immediately becoming one with him. His steady heartbeat calmed you as yours became synced.

“Don’t be scared to ask me somethin’, okay? You know I have absolutely no problem holding my girl.” Matt whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to your head, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your back.

With a quiet, “okay,” leaving your lips, you let yourself melt into him, slowing succumbing to sleep instead of rewatching a movie you considered a classic.

Only he knew you better than yourself.

[microsofttothemax]

the resentment leo would have with splinter post-krang. i genuinely think they would take a bit for them to recover and be comfortable around each other

why do i think that? here’s some reasons. this is gonna be a HELLA long analysis so be prepared. sit down, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive in

in the movie, after raph was taken, leo goes on a whole rant about how he got the key, he gets the answers, and he will get raph back. yes this is irrational and brash, but not in leo’s eyes. in his eyes, this is a foolproof plan that will work

splinter attempts to intervene, and tell him like it is. “it’s not your plan, you need to work with your team.” however, it comes out as a sharp sting to leo’s previous attitude

“My son, listen to your team. This is not about you.”

it’s meant to be sensible and wise, but to leo, it’s a jab at him. it’s a stab at his cockiness and self-centered attitude, and it reminds leo of why they’re even in this position in the first place. which he hates

most of all, it’s splinter saying it. it’s his father telling him that it’s not about him. because to leo, he’s always been last place to splinter’s affection, and it’s like splinter’s confirming it here

don’t believe me? here:

splinter talks to leo, and it seems that for a minute, he listens to his father’s words. that maybe he should really stop and listen. maybe he should stop and think of a plan, listen to his brothers’ input.

but the second splinter says it’s not about him? leo shuts down. he pulls away from splinter, and refuses to listen to him. and while splinter may be right, it was something leo never wanted to hear

it’s obvious that he has a somewhat testy relationship with his father, and splinter is trying to make up for it by giving leadership advice. but to leo? this is the guy who made him leader to seemingly mess with him, never bothered to give him attention or praise on his accomplishments, and never truly knew leo beyond his “acting as the best to save face” charade

which brings me to another reason. no, i do not think splinter was ever abusive or purposely neglectful to leo, or any of the boys for that matter. but its clear theres a bit of a rift between him and leo. i think that he kind of resents leo a bit (without meaning to) because he sees himself in him. he sees the irrational movie star who never thought ahead, and made too many mistakes to count

an example would be when leo got punched by lou jitsu two times. none of his brothers got punched, why just him? and sure it could be a running gag, but i find it also to be intentional

maybe deep down, splinter still resents leo for being so much like his irrational, unreasonable younger self. that every time he sees leo, he sees his stupid past self, and without meaning to, he at times hates leo because of it. and if he doesn’t hate him, he seems to resent him to some extent

splinter also has plainly stated that donnie was the funniest one to him, (s1ep 1, mystic mayhem) and outright laughed when leo asked if he was the favorite son (rottmnt wake-up alarms on youtube, timestamp 1:59) leo also staight-up said that he was splinter’s least favorite (s1ep 4b, down with the sickness)

so yeah, i can see the resentment leo may have for his father deep down. it could be pretty apparent post-krang, hidden behind his jokes and teases

now don’t get me wrong, they have their moments of bonding, and i do love to read little drabbles and fics where they hug and heal. however… realistically speaking, it would take a while for them to get to that stage of father-son bonding post-krang. with splinter naming him leader out of the blue, to the missing lou jitsu posters on the walls of leo’s room in the movie — and we’re definitely talking about that in a later post, trust — i would bet their relationship as father-son pre and post-movie would be extremely rocky.

another reasoning for this could be that splinter often underestimates and undermines leo’s abilities and accomplishments. far as i’ve seen, the most reaction splinter’s given to leo’s accomplishments is an eyebrow raise

for example, when outsmarting big mama, leo was genuinely proud of spending time w his dad and showing him his abilities. he genuinely thought they were working together. however, splinter didn’t say he was proud or anything, just complained he wished he’d brought donnie (s2ep 2, many unhappy returns)

“I knew I should have brought Purple.”

ouch. that mustve hurt a bit

and yes, i will admit, leo was being a bit of a little shit in this scene, and yes, he could’ve told splinter of the plan before starting to yap and blab to big mama about the plan he cooked up. however, the response splinter gives is not much better. essentially, he’s saying, “i don’t like this kid or his plan, so therefore i think i should’ve brought one of my favored children to solve the problem better.”

and before you go and tell me donnie could’ve outsmarted big mama the way leo did, think for a moment. leo fully admitted to manipulating and lying in an episode before

“I don’t lie, I just… change the truth.”

whereas donnie cannot tell a lie to save his life. i love him, but the guy is a shit liar. he has failed multiple times at it

“We are just typical normal humans.. who got lost in the middle of our normal… everyday human lives— nailed it.”

“Uh… nothing. Just having a typical, normal, mystic-free day.” “What? I said mystic-free.”

“Why aren’t you guys more upset?”

“Oh. This… hurts me. Uh… I’m very sad…?”

raph & mikey aren’t much better. mikey straight-up started sweating when he had to lie to splinter about piebald, and raph has so many different stinks/scents to him that it’d be easy for others to tell he was lying

also, mikey has doctor delicate touch. who does not know what lying or “don’t be blunt” means

and donnie’s really only being extremely straightforward with what he thinks or about what’s going on around him. so it makes no sense as to why splinter would want to bring donnie along to outsmart big mama, unless he genuinely doesn’t enjoy leo’s presence, which seems to be the case

now all of this is evidence to point towards a very unsteady father-son relationship with these two. yes, splinter seems to be a very lenient father, and i genuinely think he wants to be a good dad. however, oftentimes that leads to miscommunication and misread moments, empty promises, and overall neglecting behavior on his part, all without meaning to

so while he does try harder to be there for his sons later in the show, it’s pretty obvious that one brother — who thrived off any attention possible — probably stopped caring about that validation after all that he went through. splinter gives, but leo doesn’t take. he doesn’t bother to, because he thinks it’s either a prank of some kind, or because he just genuinely doesn’t care for his father’s input anymore.

(this was based on that one post about splinter & leo by @midwesternvibes, i just figure i revisit that bc i’m thinkin about it again)

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗽.𝟭

child of dionysus x luke castellan 🍷

IN WHICH… the man you hate just can’t seem to leave you alone

warning! this fic contains- swearing // alcohol mentions // shitty parents // use of y/n // angst // daddy issues! // spoilers to tlt // probably not book accurate // implied sex!! // no actual smut, but definitely heavy illusions to sex (both characters are 18) // loss of virginity // drugs (medicinal) // blood // reader wears a swimsuit?? // reader gender isn’t mentioned i think // mentions of death/drowning // ends on an cliffhanger!!!

[a/n]-we’re just going to say tlt takes place in 2005, so luke and will have been born in 1986. also, incase you didn’t know, Hera doesn’t have any demigods, so her cabin is empty :)

part two is in progress, just wanted to put something out until then. also kinda ends on an odd note because it wasn’t intended to be multiple parts

🎧- night shift by lucy dacus

6.6k words (oopsies)

You hated Luke Castellan above all else.

Coming from you, that was a pretty bold statement, considering that you had a fiery hatred for plenty of things. Whether it be people who smacked their gum too loudly or ignorant gods who brushed off their children with no remorse, everything seemed to unwillingly ignite a spark in you. However, someone in particular really seemed to piss you off.

The mere sight of his stupid curls and even stupider scar hadn’t always awakened such a burning rage in you; in fact, he used to do the opposite. He was fourteen when you first met him.

April 13th, 2000

Luke had been placed into the chaos of Cabin 11, the other campers unfazed by a new demigod living with them as they carelessly bumped into his shoulder while playing tag. Old magazines scattered the wood floors, and dust covered the edges of his scrappy bed. With a sigh, he threw his bag onto the floor and escaped the overwhelming sensations provided by his siblings.

The light tour Chiron provided was seemingly useless as he mindlessly waltzed down to the lake, unsure of another quiet space to go to. He performed a quick glance around to ensure he was really alone, and then plopped down onto the rocky shore with a groan. Without his father and now Thalia, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive a night at this bullshit camp.

“You okay?” You emerged from the woods, staring at him with a concerned expression. He jumped slightly, startled by your presence since he literally just checked to see if he was alone. “Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, noticing the way his tone was so unconvincing while sitting down next to him and staring out at the view. It wasn’t typical of you to be so welcoming, but you had recently received dessert privileges back after getting them taken away for punching some Aphrodite girl, so a cheery mood was accompanied. He glared at you, slightly annoyed by the way you interrupted his moment of peace. But then again, you weren’t really bothering him, so he figured you could stay. You were also breathtaking, so how could he shoo you away?

“No.” Luke replied honestly after a moment of silence, a slight grimace decorating his features while thinking about his long past.

“Fair. I’m sorry about your friend.” You said, your voice filled with empathy rather than pity as you kept eye contact with the horizon despite the cooling wind that turned your eyes glossy and ruffled your neon orange shirt. “Thanks.” He muttered as the memories flooded his mind, to the point where he had to clench his teeth together so he wouldn’t cry.

“I’m Y/N. Child of Dionysus.” Turning around, you offered a friendly smile until you realized he had his head buried into the crook of his elbow and emitted gentle sniffles. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Did I say something? I’m trying to work on it, I swear-“

“Does it ever get easier?” He interrupted, although his request came out muffled as he whispered into his skin.

“Well… sorta.”

“Sorta?”

“You get used to the whole Greek God thing, I guess.” You reply, avoiding the question he was clearly implying about his father being present. It wasn’t one you typically liked to talk about, along with most of the other campers with daddy issues. The truth was, you hated the gods for abandoning their children, but speaking out about that would have some brutal consequences. Let’s just say you would lose more than just dessert privileges for a week.

“I’m heading down to the bonfire; you should join.” You said after another long pause of silence, standing up and dusting the particles of sand that had collected on the bottom of your denim shorts.

“Okay.” He stood up, wiping his eyes, and followed you as you hiked through the trees.

“So, why were you stalking me again?” Luke spoke up with a sarcastic tone, stepping over the large tree trunks that had fallen down onto the forest floor.

“Woah, I was not stalking you, newbie.”

“Sure looked like it when you magically appeared out of the woods.”

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You snapped, the caring facade slipping away as you stared at him harshly enough to pierce his heart.

“Jeez, sorry.” Luke looked down at his feet, feeling a little guilty for being too pushy with practically a stranger. After seeing his suddenly reserved body language, you stopped the hike and faced him.

“Don’t apologize.”

“What?” His gaze averted back up to meet your cold expression.

“Don’t apologize. I was being a bitch. Stand up for yourself.”

“Uhh..” Luke was now extremely confused, looking around as if this was some sort of prank show with the way you switched up so fast.

“Let’s try again. I’m gonna say the sane thing, and you’re going to stand up for yourself. Kay?”

“I don’t-“ He started, but was quickly interrupted by you.

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You repeated from earlier, making your voice sound even ruder as you dramatically exclaimed.

“N-no? Is that what I’m supposed to say?” He questioned, still nervously glancing around and searching for some sort of explanation or another person hiding in the undergrowth to reveal it was a silly joke. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief at his terrible performance, blinking slowly as you scoffed.

“Oh gods. It’s not what you say; it’s how you say it. Be more confident.” Stepping back, you repeated the sentence again. “Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.”

“No.” Luke said, this time with more pride, although he kept staring at you for a sign of approval. “Good!” You supportively with a grin, turning to continue your walk. And after a sassy eye roll, Luke followed behind.

“Just trying to protect you from the Ares kids. They can be assholes.” You happily explained, a little too cheery for someone who just snapped at him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Luke knew he should be bothered by your interesting behavior. I mean, most would, but deep down, he liked how you were empathetic in such a strange way. It made him feel human, instead of like a tourist attraction that people whispered sweet nothings to and stared at curiously.

“Don’t take anyone’s shit, and soon enough you’ll be swimming in kleos.” You stated, swaying with every step and providing plenty of hand gestures.

“Kleos?”

“Glory. Everyone here is basically fighting to be respected.”

“Oh. Shouldn’t everyone just be respectful?” He obliviously asked, ducking under a low, hanging branch.

“They should, but they aren’t. But with glory, it makes you important. People sit up when you walk in the room; stay out of your way; things like that.”

“Wait, so I just have to stand up for myself, and suddenly I’m all important?”

“Sometimes. Usually, though, you have to major in some skill. Archery, sword fighting, healing, etc. You been claimed yet?”

“Yeah, Hermes.”

“Oh.” You replied, dissatisfaction noticeable.

“Oh??” Luke questioned, offended and sounding a little more rude than he intended.

“It’s not really a bad thing. Just different demigods are usually good at certain stuff. With Hermes, they typically tend to be good liars.”

“What’s your talent?” Luke asked, causing you to go quiet for a minute while thinking.

“Well, I’m really good at poker. That’s about it.”

“You’re a good talker, too.” He said, causing you to shoot him a threatening glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you give decent advice, and you’re pretty welcoming. That’s a plus.” He instantly backtracked.

“Half of the camp would disagree with you on that. Turns out hostility doesn’t get you the best reputation.”

“You’re hostile?” Sure, you may have had a little anger management problem, but hostile? You seemed sweet enough to Luke, at least.

“I don’t talk to all the newbies like this.”

“Then why me?” Luke, from his understanding, wasn’t special. He didn’t stick out. He wasn’t super hot, smart, or funny. He was just average, in his opinion.

“Dunno. Why not?” You said, which wasn’t entirely true. He just seemed different, like he was hiding more beneath the surface. Similar to a puzzle that you needed to solve, except if you didn’t, you’d be burdened with a painful itch of curiosity for the rest of eternity.

“Hm, Fair. But what should I try to achieve kleos?”

“Don’t go for archery or healing; the Apollo kids will smoke you. Maybe sword fighting? I could show you the basics sometime.”

“Sword fighting it is.”

May 21st, 2001

"Where were you during arts and crafts?" You asked while sitting down next to Luke at lunch, clearly irritated by his absence during this morning's activities.

"I was-" He tried to explain, but you had already taken his hands and begun to inspect them, your touch shutting him up. You huffed in annoyance while gently tracing over his callouses and cuts.

"You were training again."

"I just needed more practice. I didn't mean to-" He started, feeling remorse for not showing up, but you were there to quickly interrupt him.

"Save it. I have bandages back at my cabin; let's go. It's the least you can do for leaving me with your siblings all morning." You slammed your hands on the table, standing up and practically dragging Luke to follow you (he would have followed even if you didn't force him).

Once a long distance away from the pavilion, you brought up a topic he wasn't the most comfortable with. "Training to prove yourself?" He swallowed back his anger, not wanting to lash out at you, despite the fact that you could obviously take it.

"Maybe I am. Who cares?"

"I do. Stop caring about the gods so much."

"Easy for you to say. Your father's here." Luke mumbled mockingly under his breath, barely above a whisper, but you heard.

"I'm not sure he even knows my name. He's a drunk dumbass, not exactly great dad material." This shut him up, his gaze traveling to the dirt floor until you reached Cabin 12. Silence and tension filled the air as you opened your backpack, scouring for the gauze and anticipatant. Gripping his wrist with a rage-filled force, you carefully rubbed the Neosporin over the red cuts and wrapped his palms with the stretchy material gifted by an Apollo friend.

"Don't say I don't care about you. You know I do." You whispered, breaking the quiet atmosphere and filling it with fiery love.

"But he doesn't."

"So?"

"He's my father. He should."

"You should stop focusing on what you don't have. Working yourself to the bone won't improve your relationship."

He didn't respond, not having an argument or a sassy comment whipped up, because you were right. He manufactured this mindset that if he was good enough, if he had glory, Hermes would finally notice him and would finally love him. However, there was always a little voice in the back of his head that made him doubt all of his hopes for a family. You just amplified that voice like a microphone.

"And you left me alone with your brothers. Bleh." You smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little while tying off the first bandage.

"C'mon, they aren't that bad."

"You should have heard how they were talking about Julia from Aphrodite Cabin."

"Ew." He laughed, looking at you while you concentrated on wrapping his last hand. You looked so stunning like this, with your pearly teeth peeking between the skin of your lips and your eyes squinting while focusing on making sure it was perfect. He was truly a dumbass, focusing on the gods while you were right in front of him. "Done." You said while tucking in the end of the gauze. He hinged his hand open and shut a few times to make sure it was sturdy, and of course it was.

"Thank you." Luke praised you, not just for patching him up, but for caring.

"Anytime. Hey, I made you something during arts and crafts." You dug through your plastic junk drawer, clinking around all the junk in search of something specific.

"Hm?"

You snatched up a small beaded necklace from the drawer before extending your hand and showing it to him. It was crumpled up, the flimsy string intertwined with itself and the beads out of order, so he picked the jewelry up and awed at the handmade piece. It was wooden beads painted in deep burgundy paint with your first name spelled out in Greek letters, strung on black elastic.

"It's gorgeous." Was all he could manage to utter out, still starstruck by the thoughtfulness of your gift.

"Thanks. We should probably get back to lunch before it's over." You replied, and for the first time in Luke's year of knowing you, you look flustered. You nervously glanced down at the laces to your shoes and fiddled with your fingers, even swaying from the tips of your toes to the back of your heels.

"Yeah, yeah." He agreed, slipping the necklace on and walking out with you behind him. For the rest of the day, he was all smiles and giggles, with others unsure of why he was in such a good mood. Until the inky night sky swallowed the bright blue light, and nightmares came with it. 

Most demigods were prone to the occasional bad dream, but Luke was a frequent victim of Hypnos’ curse. Every other night was filled with images of losing what he loved, but he was too embarrassed to talk to someone about it, so he suffered silently.

That night, the dreams were particularly horrific, to the point where he awoke covered in sweat and probably some tears, too. His mind debated whether or not sneaking out and waking you up was a bad idea, but the thought of staying awake alone in his bed another minute scared him more than any profanity you could throw at him for interrupting your “beauty sleep.”

Tiptoeing silently outside the hot cabin, his heart pounded as he traveled to your room next door. He was still in flannel pajama pants and an old tee shirt with some vintage band plastered on it, the chilling wind erupting goosebumps. 

Luckily, your bed was right next to a window, which he promptly (and quietly) tapped on to wake you up. A few groans and twists later, you slid open the glass and gawked at him.

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing?” You whisper-yelled, praying to the gods none of your siblings woke up and started bitching.

“I had a nightmare.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning because you had a nightmare?” 

“Please, I just need someone to talk to.” Hearing the desperation and seriousness in his voice, you couldn’t possibly reject him, no matter how tired you were.

“I’ll be out in a second.” 

Sliding the window shut, you slipped on some sandals and exited to see Luke, who was standing on the porch. 

Walking down the steps with him tracking behind, you waited until you were isolated by the lake to talk. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having really bad nightmares lately, and I know that sounds stupid, but I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Have you tried talking to the Apollo kids? It’s not rare for them to deal with insomnia.”

“Well, no. It’s humiliating. It’s taken me a year to talk to you about it, and you’re my best friend.” Luke skimmed past the term ‘best friend’, unsure if you felt the same. It was stupid; you were definitely his best friend, but what if he wasn’t yours? 

“First of all, it’s not. But I don’t mind talking to them. I can say I’m having nightmares, and they’ll probably give me melatonin, and then I can give it to you.”

“You’d do that? Smuggle drugs for me?” He spoke softly, the moonlight enchanting his features. 

“Course. You’re my best friend.”

December 27th, 2002

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You yelled at Luke in the empty Hera Cabin, angrier than ever. Word had spread to you like wildfire of a quest Luke had accepted, despite the fact it was a suicide mission.

“Listen-“

“No! You told me you didn’t care about the god’s approval anymore. And now you’re going on some bullshit quest?! You’re a fucking dumbass.”

“I just need one chance to prove myself to him.” He pleaded, begging for you to understand and forgive him, even though he knew you weren’t the “forgive and forget” type. Honestly, he was about 80% sure you were still holding a grudge against him for stealing the dessert off your plate three months ago.

“Why aren’t you happy where you are? You’re the best swordsman at camp in three hundred years; half the girls here are in love with you, and everyone practically worships the ground you walk on!”

“I don’t care about them.”

“Do you not care about me, either?” You spoke softly, which was a dramatic shift from the heated yelling a few seconds ago.

“What? Of course-“ Luke cared about you more than anything— more than himself or any silly god. It wasn’t very far-fetched to assume that he even loved you, although his anxious self would never admit anything of the sort. But this quest was a dream of his, and it wasn’t possible for him to just give it up.

“Whatever. I’m done with your bullshit.” You cut him off and stormed out, leaving him to watch you walk away with an aching pain in his heart. That wound was left open as he set out for his journey that night, along with two other campers who were slightly underqualified.

The quest went to shit the minute they left camp’s solace, with monsters attacking from every direction. However, he and his companions were able to make it to the guarded tree with only a few minor injuries.

Until Luke reached for the golden apple and was sliced by the dragon who protected the fruit. Blood gushed out of the cut that decorated his eye as he stumbled away. The loss of blood and shock caught up to him, and eventually he lay in the arms of his friends, fading in and out of consciousness.

The idea that your life flashes before your eyes when you're near death is indeed true. Memories of previous years flooded his brain, from his childhood to his teen years (which mainly consisted of you). As the light faded away, all he could think of was how he never admitted his love to you and how your last interaction with him was an argument.

The next time he awoke, he was in the camp infirmary, dazed as he slowly blinked the sleep away from his eyes. The teenage nurses yelled at him as he slowly stood up and deliriously walked outside, but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to see you and apologize. His near-death experience was a wake-up call, a sign that what he was feeling towards you wasn’t just friendly admiration.

Luckily for him, you were waiting for him outside, sitting on a wood bench as you anxiously bounced your leg. As he stumbled out the door, you immediately stood up and rushed towards his weak body. What caught him off guard was the way you hugged him instantly, wrapping your arms around his torso while burying your head in his chest. For the first time in days, you were able to breathe, inhaling his musky scent rapidly. The fight had taken a toll on you. You lied awake at every night scared out of your mind that he would die hating you.

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, I was just angry at you for leaving me, but-” You rammbled into the cloth of his shirt, the vibrations on his skin making his heart flutter.

“Don’t apologize.” He said with a loopy smile, making you laugh with relief while remembering the first time you met. His original plan of confessing his love to you the moment he woke up with a dramatic spiel was immediately thrown in the trash as he looked at you from above. The worries of ruining this magical friendship you had spent two years building overtook the joys of the possibility that a new relationship would blossom. So for now, he was comfortable being friends with you. Best friends.

The stares from others went unnoticed, Luke too enchanted by your warming touch to see the way others gawked at him from afar, like he was a monster. Not until the next day, when he wasn’t drugged, at least.

When he looked in the crowded bathroom mirror the next morning after plenty of rest, it almost scared him. His gash was a beaming red with dried maroon blood on the edges and a violet hue discoloring the nearby skin. Swallowing nervously, he did his best to clean it up with warm water before rushing to the picnic tables for breakfast, where you sat munching on cereal.

“You’re the most brutally honest person I know. How bad is it? Like, can I even show my face anymore?” He blurted out, causing you to glance up with a slight panic. After a few seconds of consideration, you replied.

“It makes you look badass.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Go get something to eat and come back to talk to me.” Luke responded with a nod, heading off to grab a quick breakfast. With a tray of pancakes in his hand, he returned and sat down across from you.

“So?” You waited eagerly for some explanation of his trip.

“It went like shit. You’re right, I’m not good enough.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you shouldn’t rely on your successes or failures to determine your worth.”

“Same thing.” He retorted with a scowl, stuffing his mouth with food.

“Not even close. So, what’d you learn?”

“That I need to train harder.”

“Holy shit, you are a dumbass.” You said with a long blink and a theatrical sigh.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. How’s Annabeth?” Annabeth and you were always so different, but somehow that made you closer. She spent her hours strategizing and acting like an adult, and you spent yours playing games and wishing you were younger. Regardless, she was like a little sister to you.

“She’s… like usual.” Luke replied with a crinkle of his lips.

“Mm, so she’s still forcing herself to be an adult at nine?”

“Yeah, just about.”

“We should get her to play poker with us one night. Help loosen her up a little.”

“Not a chance.”

March 19th, 2003

You and Luke stood side by side, anxiously waiting for Capture the Flag to start, while Chiron yapped about the rules. You’d already heard the whole spiel of instructions multiple times, so naturally you grew bored, and your mind wandered off to the boy beside you.

He looked like a true warrior, with his pointy metal helmet that somehow sharpened his features. Over the past few summers, he had grown significantly, and the puff on his cheeks had thinned out. Needless to say, he wasn’t short of admirers.

You painfully watched as hundreds of girls fawned over him and even began to dread getting ready in the bathroom because of how many praises were thrown at him.

Luke sensed your annoyance from afar, although it wasn’t hard to notice by the way you scowled every time someone approached him with a new compliment. However, he thought you were just envious of the praise he received. In reality, you felt threatened, like someone would steal your spot in your best-friend-who-sometimes-flirt-with-each-other relationship with him. He would never let it happen though, even if you weren’t aware.

“Let the games begin!” Chiron yelled, snapping you out of your daydreaming session.

“You take the east side of the forest, I take the west, we meet up in the middle, right?” You wanted to confirm the Athena cabin’s strategy with him, to which he replied with a quick nod.

“Mhm. See you on the flip side.”

“See you on the flip side, Castellan.” You both turned to the different small groups that you were leading, setting out on foot to start your plan.

Annabeth and a few other geniuses had spent the past two weeks carefully crafting a flawless plan for today’s Capture the Flag game. You and Luke would attack, traveling into their side of the woods, while the rest would defend.

While you might not have been the best swordsman, you were a master of trickery and deception and decent at fist fighting. Plus, you had a solid team backing you up.

“So basically, we just need to fight some of the red team and then meet up with Luke and his group in the middle. Kay?” You instructed to your acquaintances, who diligently followed behind you as you hiked through the evergreen trees, until you saw a few of the other team lurking around. With a surprise attack, you were able to defeat them, with little of your squad lost in the process.

You kept on trekking through the dark depths of the forest before spotting some of the best members of the red team, specifically Sam from Ares cabin.

They were the biggest asshole around, and extremely cocky for someone who was the second-best sword fighter in camp. Plus, they were always trying to get in your pants, along with every other counselor who was old enough. To be frank, they were super hot, but you weren’t interested in anyone currently. Well, anyone who wasn’t Luke Castellan.

Knowing you wouldn’t win this battle, you shuffled to the bushes and silently watched while thinking of a good plan.

“Nice try. Up. Slowly.” Sam said unexpectedly, causing you to sigh with frustration and calmly stand up, along with your teammates.

“So, you can either give up now and save yourself the trouble, or we can do the whole fighting thing and eliminate you that way. Your choice.” They stated with a smile, only egging you on.

“What a little bundle of joy you are.”

“Hm, okay, fighting it is.” They sliced for your stomach, the metal of their blade clinking with the iron of your breastplate. You were stunned at first, but immediately charged back while his goons attacked your friends.

The sound of swords slicing and heavy grunts filled the woods, alerting Luke, who was a decent distance away. Most of his teammates had been eliminated, so now it was just him and one other member. He lightly jogged to the scene, not caring too much.

Meanwhile, your group was putting up a solid fight, but so were they. You clashed swords relentlessly with Sam, while your teammates suffered a bloody battle. In a mere minute, all of your team had surrendered, but so had all of Sam’s team.

With every second that passed, your efforts got messier and energy your got lower, and it was apparent this wasn’t going to be your victory. With one clean slice, Sam nicked your arm violently, and you let out a scream in response. Unbeknownst to you, Luke heard your pain and panicked, changing his pace from a careless jog to a speedy sprint. His partner yelled at him, confused, but Luke just kept going, despite his muscles that ached like fire.

You grew exhausted, now just weakly defending yourself from every attack. Seeing how unfocused you became, Sam took this opportunity to swipe your feet with his leg and send you tumbling to the ground, disarming you in the process.

Both panting heavily, they shakily brought the blade to your neck and stepped on your torso to prevent less squirming.

“You’d be a lot hotter if you weren’t such a bitch.” They said, and before you could come up with a witty reply, Luke had charged from behind. Slicing at Sam with adrenaline-fueled anger, he instantly knocked them down to the floor.

“Don’t ever talk to them like that again, or I’ll seriously fuck you up. Okay?”

“Okay, Jesus! What are you, their boyfriend or something?”

Luke wasn’t sure how to reply, so he didn’t. Was this too protective of him? No, he was just helping a friend. Right?

“Just say you surrender already.” He mustered up.

“Fine, I surrender.” Sam mumbled, and Luke took his sword away while they fled. Then, he turned to you, who was watching the whole thing from the floor.

“Holy shit, thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. They hurt you?” He replied with a grin, helping you up with his right hand.

“Nothing bad.” You responded, twisting your arm to get a glance at the cut. He winced with empathy while grabbing your wrist so he could get a better glance.

“Ouch. Go to the infirmary. It’s bleeding a lot.”

“Whatever. Go get the flag, trooper.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. With a sly salute, you both headed your separate ways. Luke had a pep in his step as he jogged to the bright flag, forgetting all about his partner, who was somewhere in the trees far behind him.

You headed to the nurse, getting it cleaned and patched up easily before setting off to the lake. Sitting on a pointy rock, you waited mindlessly for this stretched-out game to end. Technically you were still in, but your match with Sam was enough fighting for the day.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because Luke emerged from the forest a few minutes later carrying a gleaming red flag with pride.

Standing up, you cheered with excitement as you ran up to him, squealing like a little girl. He stopped in front of you and dug the pole into the rocky shore with a grin. Still in awe, all you could manage out was a toothy smile in reply.

“Congrats, Castellan.”

“Eh, it was no big deal.” He joked, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Whatever. Bonfire tonight!!” You laughed and made sure to yell out the last sentence for all of your teammates, who whooped with glee.

When the sun drifted down the horizon that night, you and dozens of campers headed down to the shore, where a sparking fire raged. The flames danced as you sat around, scattered on different logs. You currently sat on the floor next to Luke while he sat on the wood, leaning your back against the dead tree and ever-so-slightly brushing up against his legs.

Everyone had noticed your change in attitude over the last few years. You seemed bubblier and more happy because, well, you were. Falling in love with someone who had a chance of reciprocating feelings was heaven. Every long stare from across the room and gentle touch made your skin crawl with adoration. Maybe you should tell him. But why ruin everything?

As the night stretched on and the violet sky dissipated into a jet black that was freckled with stars, you grew sleepier. And after the third yawn in only ten minutes, you decided it was time to hit the hay.

“Okay, I’m calling it quits. Night guys!” You stood up before turning to Luke.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You whispered in such a caring tone that he felt shivers down his spine. Speechless, he watched with hearts in his eyes as you walked away.

“At least try and be discreet.” One of his friends laughed as soon as your figure went unseen.

August 2nd, 2004

“Absolutely not. No way!” Annabeth yelled at you.

You, Luke, and her all sat on the floor of Cabin 12 playing Uno because apparently gambling “isn’t appropriate for an eleven-year-old.” The problem was that you liked to make up your own rules, while Annabeth strictly stuck to what was written in the instructions.

“Beth, everyone plays this way! Just take your six!”

“If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?” She gave you her signature death stare.

“What are you, my mom? Luke, what’s your opinion?”

“Do not drag me into this.”

“I quit. I’m heading down to the lake, you guys wanna come?” You stated, slamming your mountain of red cards onto the floor and jumping up to search for a bathing suit in your dresser.

“I have archery training.” Annabeth said, grabbing her stuff and walking out.

“I’ll go.” Luke replied a little too eagerly.

“Okay. Meet me at the docks in ten?”

“Sure.” Using his bandaged palms to push off the wood floor, he left to go change.

Slipping into your black swimsuit, you threw a baggy shirt over it and skipped down to the shore, where Luke was waiting with his feet in the icy water.

“Hey.” You alerted him of your presence while sliding off your cover and tossing it down beside you. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but gawk at the slivers of your exposed skin. Nervously swallowing, he weakly replied. “H-hey.”

Ignoring the way he stuttered and stared, you jumped into the cool lake. The blue water engulfed you in a refreshing embrace, rolling off your skin as you emerged from the surface.

“I’ll race you to that buoy over there.” You pointed to the white float that bobbled up and down.

“Deal. Winner gets loser’s dessert for a week.”

“Deal.” You took off before he was even in the water, pushing off of the wood dock to accelerate forward.

“Cheater!” Luke yelled playfully before jumping in and following your path.

Eventually, he caught up and even reached the buoy first, grinning triumphantly as you paddled towards him.

“I hate you.” You mumbled, but the beaming smile plastered on your face told another story.

“Fine, you can keep your dessert privileges, but I still want bragging rights.” He offered, not caring a smidge about anything but making you happy.

“Gods, you’re such a good person.” You said, knowing you would have taken his food and flaunted on him for the next seven days.

“Race you back?”

“Fuck no. I’m tired.”

“I’ll carry you. The waters not too deep; you can sit on my shoulders while I walk.”

“You’ll drown.”

“I’m pretty ripped; I think I can manage carrying you one hundred yards.” He jokingly replied with a flex of his bicep, which was definitely appreciated by your wandering eyes.

“Sure. I’m not saving you if you do end up drowning, though.” You climbed onto his shoulders, and he gripped your calfs to help stabilize you and because he really just wanted an excuse to touch you.

“That’s a pretty badass way to die.” He said while trailing through the fresh liquid.

“To die while swimming through five-foot-deep waters?”

“Well, not when you phrase it like that.”

“How would you phrase it?”

“Glorious hero meets his fate at the lake with another counselor’s thighs wrapped around his head.”

You both froze with shock when he uttered his suggestive remark, even Luke not realizing his mistake until after. He felt his cheeks go hot and nervously tried to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh my gods, I swear I did not mean-“

You cut him off with a deep and angelic laugh, clearly not hurt by his poor choice of words.

“You’re a dumbass.” You choked out through heavy giggles, and he instantly relaxed upon realizing you didn’t think he was a complete pervert. Every laugh you released was like a weight off of his shoulders, and that was when he knew he could not shove his feelings down anymore.

Hours had passed, and you two ended up watching the sun fall by the lake while sharing a cherry red and white striped blanket. Not a word was whispered as you rested your head against his shoulder, his curls dripping onto your skin. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your slow inhalation of the crisp air.

Once night arrived and the cicadas started chirping, it was finally time to break the comforting silence.

“I’m gonna go shower.” You said while slowly standing up and letting the towel drape off of your body.

“Me too.” Luke replied, getting up and placing the towel back on your shoulders so you wouldn’t have to brace the chilling breeze in a swimsuit. As you walked away, he couldn’t help but stare.

“Wait, I need to talk to you once you’re done. Meet me in the Hera Cabin after we’ve showered?” He called out after you, to which you nodded in response.

He needed to confess how he felt about you immediately, or his chest might actually explode. He needed to tell you about how his heart raced every time your touch lingered a second too long, how he ranted to Annabeth every night about the things you did that made him swoon, and how he was madly, head over heels, in love with you.

Once the musk of lake water had fully washed off, you headed to the infamous empty cabin, where Luke was waiting. His hair was still wet from the shower, causing his curls to separate, and he fidgeted with his fingertips while anxiously waiting for your arrival.

“You okay, Castellan?”

“No, I’m not, actually. I need to tell you something, like right now.” He stuttered out, his lip crunched up like he was in pain.

“You’re scaring me a little, but I’m all ears.”

“I love you.” Luke blurted out, the tension in the air increasing significantly with just three words.

“What?” It seemed as if the world had stopped, even the birds quieting down for a listen.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated, like it was no big deal, like it was second nature.

“You love me?” You whispered out, almost like it was unheard for you to be loved.

“More than anything.”

You swallowed, thinking for a second while he awaited a response.

“I love you too.”

With the conformation of your words, he leaned in until the tips of his nose rubbed against yours. His lust-coated eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, making it apparent what he wanted. Luke breathed in your fresh scent heavily while watching and waiting for a reaction—for you to pull away or do something.

Trailing a hand up into his hair, you delicately pushed his head until your lips met. His skin was honey-sweet as you gingerly kissed; it looked like something out of a romance movie. He forced himself to be a gentleman and pull apart after a few seconds, no matter how much he wanted to kiss you until his oxygen ran out.

Looking up into his eyes, you craved more. This built-up tension between you two was finally erupting, and it needed more than just a little kiss to be satisfied. So, you took charge and feverishly leaned in for more.

His hands cusped your cheek, carefully avoiding any boundaries you might have set up. That was until you snagged his bottom lip with your teeth, and he lost all self-control. The sweet kisses turned into a full-blown make-out session as he steadily snaked his hand down your torso and to the fat of your ass.

Only breaking for air when absolutely necessary, passion filled the atmosphere, along with hushed moans from the both of you. Luke warily trailed his hand upwards to your chest, and you could tell where this was heading. Panting, you removed your lips from his and spoke up.

“I’ve never.. I’m still…”

“Me too. Do you.. still want to?” He revealed, his heart racing while still daintily grazing your skin.

“Yes. Please.” You desperately nodded, like death was approaching if you didn’t continue. With that, he laid you down on the squeaky mattress of an unused bunk bed and hovered over.

“Gods, you look stunning.”

୨୧

part two in progress…

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MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[pantherxrogers]

hey! could you write a san version of the sugar daddy/boyfriend smut👀

one-shot: sugar daddy!san x fem!reader ⋆。°  ✮   ⁺

⭐️ pairing: sugar daddy!san (+ boxer!san) x fem!reader

⭐️ warnings: smut (18+ only), explicit language, oral (f receiving), dry humping, swearing, gentle dom!san, slightly sub!reader, crybaby!reader (but they're happy tears), incorrect boxing terminology (boxer!san is just sexy lmao i know nothing about boxing), pet names galore, spit as lube, super fluffy too

also...pee after sex!!

⭐️ summary: sugar daddy!san comes home from Europe with a special gift for his spoiled girl. she's a little bit of a crybaby, but he knows how to remedy that. he may be a boxing world champion but he's devoted on making the reader feel like the winner 😼

⭐️ a/n: lmao, i got carried away writing this one because San is my bias. it's definitely longer than Mingi and Yunho, so i'm calling it a one-shot.

i re-watched the bouncy music video recently, so i had the idea to combine sugar daddy!san with Boxer!san. and also non!idol san. it's a trope salad LMAO. enjoy! 🫶🏾 thank you for the request darling! <3

my masterlist (you can find the mingi and yunho versions here!)

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"Good job, baby!" You squeal, rushing towards San as soon as he steps into your shared penthouse.

"Thank you, pretty girl," your boyfriend mumbles, weighed down by jet lag, but already feeling lighter in your presence.

"So proud of my undisputed champion! I wish I could've been there," you coo, basking in the feel of him.

"Me too, baby," he confesses, finally content in your arms. It's always nice to win, but nothing beats his greatest treasure. You.

Standing on your tippy toes, you press a firm kiss to his lips. He meets you with a hunger. San traces his tongue along your plump bottom lip, asking for entry. When he delves into your mouth, you can't help the little moan that slips out. The sound makes San's pants feel tighter.

Your heart's beating faster now, and you melt into your boyfriend's warmth. The thin, silky nightie barely covers anything. A warm chill goes down your spine when your nipples brush against San's firm chest. As you lift your leg to drape around his waist, you notice his arms are locked behind his back.

"Ummm…" you trail off, breaking the kiss to ask for an explanation. This is your first moment to really get a good look at him, which doesn't help the wetness gathering in your thong.

He's smirking at you, and he's just so sexy. The chandelier lighting of the foyer reflects from his thin, gold chain. You notice that he's dressed comfortably, likely still wearing whatever he wore on the private jet to get home.

He's wearing his own merch, Choi San (K-Rocky) World Champion printed across the front of the gray hoodie. It makes you beam with pride every time you see it. Trailing your eyes down, you're met with his matching sweatpants and growing bulge. More pride surges in your chest, happy to know he missed you as much as you missed him. As a result, a girlish giggle slips through your lips.

"Something funny, pretty girl?" he chides, playfully raising an eyebrow at you.

"Is there something in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?" you grin, loving the ways his eyes light up at your cheesy joke. He crowds your space again, smiling down at you before he whispers in your ear.

"Well, I'm definitely excited to see my baby, but I also have a little surprise for her," he grumbles, sending warmth to your lower belly. He steps back again, arms still locked behind his back.

You're fighting back a smile, remembering the promise he made before leaving to reclaim his title.

"Close your eyes, sweet girl," he murmurs. You can't see him, but he smirks again, cock stirring in his pants at your obedience.

"Are you ready?" he teases, chuckling softly at the furrow in your brow. He can't ignore how cute you get when you're feeling bratty.

"Sannieeeee, c'mon," you whine, growing more impatient by the second.

He feels like a pervert the way his eyes lock on your full breasts, biting his lip when they sway in tandem with your little tantrum. He thinks about how they'll feel in his mouth when he gets you underneath him.

"Stop staring at my tits and let me have my gift!" you growl, knowing how spoiled you sound but you've lost the ability to care.

"Hey, be a good girl," he commands, the serious tone in his voice putting an abrupt stop to your antics.

" 'm sorry, sir," you whisper breathily, clit throbbing at the way he effortlessly switches into his dominant side.

San heart aches a little bit when he looks at you. He knows you love playing rough, but he doesn't have it in him to torment you any longer.

" 's okay baby, open your eyes for me," he coos. He nearly jumps back at the shriek you let out.

"Ah! I knew it!" you cry out, reaching forward to snatch the Hermes bag out of his hands. Reaching inside, you almost burst into tears when you feel the handbag of your dreams.

"Sannie," you whimper, looking up at him with teary eyes. He's on you before you can continue, wrapping his strong arms around you.

"Don't cry, baby," he begs softly, unable to watch you cry, even if they're happy tears.

"I can't help it," you sniffle, "I'm so grateful for you," the words are muffled against his chest, you find it hard to continue opening the bag.

"I couldn't do any of this without my baby. This is the least I could do," he answers honestly, pulling your soft body away from his to look into your eyes.

"I love you more than anything." You tear up again at the sincerity in his eyes.

"I love you too," you whimper, trying to stop the tears that flow down your cheeks. San's hands come up, brushing away the tears as lightly as possible, so you don't feel his rough callouses.

He holds you for a few more minutes, quieting your tears with affirmations and soft kisses. You stand there in silence for a while, calmed by the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"How do you feel now, baby? he asks softly, tracing his hand down your back. Another smirk rests on his face, when he watches the goosebumps raise up on your skin.

"Think 'm good now," you answer him, remembering the task at hand.

You finally open the bag, admiring the heavy Birkin in your hands. As you pour out a stream of thank you's and I love you's, when San catches you by surprise.

One moment, you're standing in the foyer and the next moment, he's scooped you up and into the living room. He gently places you on the vast leather couch, settling in beside you.

Drawn to his warmth, you cuddle up next to him, loving the way his strong arm cradles your waist. He carefully takes the bag from you, placing it on the marble coffee table. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence before the TV catches his attention.

"Are you watching my highlights, baby?" he teases, knowing full and well that you always tune into ESPN when he's away.

"Don't tease me, Sannie. I missed you," you mumble, nestling further into his side.

San looks down at you, enchanted by the exposed skin that the nightie doesn't quite cover. He brings a rough hand to your thigh, tracing the smooth skin, admiring how it feels in his grip. He can hear your breathing pick up, knowing exactly what effect he has on you.

"Missed you too, pretty girl," he sighs, using one arm to shift you onto his lap. San helps you adjust, finally content when you're straddling him.

"I missed you more," you breathe out, finding it difficult to concentrate.

He's so warm and strong beneath you, his muscular thighs being the perfect pillow. His hands are lower now, softly groping your ass through the lingerie. You can't help but to grind down on him, both of you letting out a content moan.

"Not possible," he murmurs, "But you're welcome to try to prove it," he finishes his sentence with a sharp smack to your ass, triggering another moan from you.

"Shit," you huff out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his body underneath yours.

His cock is fully hard now, protruding through his sweats. Your thong is basically nonexistent, clinging to your wet pussy. That sensation combined with San's lazy grinding make it hard for you to think clearly.

His lips are on your neck now, sucking on the sensitive skin. He loves the way you moan out into his ear, harshly grinding his hard cock against your pussy.

"C'mon baby, you gonna prove it to me?" he teases, warm breath against your ear.

His words finally click in your head, knowing what you want to do. You start to shimmy off his lap, trying to get on your knees, but San's arms lock you in place.

"Wanna show you how grateful I am," you beg, hooded eyes staring back into his own.

His head lulls back onto the cushion, finding it hard to concentrate when you look at him like that. Messy curls, hard nipples poking through your nightie, and your lips swollen from kissing. You look fucked out and he's barely getting started.

"Then let me taste you, baby. That's all I really want," he groans, quickly switching your position. Your head spins for a moment, barely registering how you changed places so fast.

You're on your back, San's rough hands pinning your thighs to your chest. The leather couch is cool beneath your skin, helping you think a little more clearly. Raising up on your elbows, you look down at him, eyes almost rolling back at the image.

He's bent over in front of you, gray hoodie long forgotten. He's wearing a white tank, muscles on display for you. As you admire him, his smooth lips trail along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Always the tease, he softly kisses your clit through your thong, your hips bucking in response.

"S-Sannie, please," you moan out, trying to push up against his mouth. He pulls back, smirking up at you, loving the neediness in your voice.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl," he murmurs, faintly tracing his fingertips up and down your plush thighs. He looks at you expectantly.

"Want your mouth," you whine, hating when he does this. It makes you feel shy, but maybe that's why your heart flutters a little bit. Even if you'd never admit it to him.

"Want me to lick your pretty pussy?" he coos before lowering his head, pressing another kiss to your bundle of nerves.

"Mmmm, yes" you moan, eyes rolling back at the light pressure.

"Such a good girl. What my baby wants, my baby gets," he growls, peeling the soaked fabric away from your pussy.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes locked on the trail of wetness still clinging to your thong. He can't help dipping his tongue in it, eager to have a taste. You yelp, surprised by the sudden contact.

"Y-yes, Sannie, feels so good," you pant, unable to focus on anything but the intense pleasure from San's tongue.

He alternates between sucking on your clit and bringing up a finger to rub figures eights. Your hips buck up, doing anything to maximize your pleasure.

"You like that, baby? Like how it feels against your little clit?" The look of pure ecstasy on your face gives him his answer.

He latches back onto your pussy, using his thick tongue to delve between your sopping folds. Your high-pitched moans spur him on, sliding his tongue into your tight hole.

The lewd noises of your boyfriend tongue fucking you is too much for you to bear, your pussy starts to clench around the wet muscle, teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

"F-fuck, yes sir," you huff, spreading your legs even wider, "Gonna cum soon."

He hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. He's back on your clit again, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue. When you thrash against the couch, San tightens his grip on your thighs, trapping you into place.

"You can come for me, sweet girl. It's okay," he soothes you, switching back to rubbing fast circles against your clit.

Your hips have lost their rhythm now, aimlessly bucking into the pleasure of San's thumb. He lowers his head again, lewdly spitting on your pussy.

"C'mon on my tongue, baby. That's it," he hums, gravelly voice going directly to your clit.

"Ahhh, fuck," you whine out, feeling his tongue enter your hole again. The pleasure is too much. His rough thumb against your clit and tongue stretching out your pussy push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, San coaxing you through it.

He sits back on his heels, taking in your body. He keeps circling your clit, letting you ride out your high and come back down to him.

When you've calmed down, you see your boyfriend hovering over you. That kind smile is on his face now, stretching all the way up to his eyes. You swear you can feel your heart expanding in your chest.

"Hi, my pretty girl."

"Hi Sannie," you whisper shyly, cheeks burning at the way he admires you.

"C'mere," he snuggles you back into his lap, adjusting your nightie and smoothing down your curls. You giggle at the wet kisses he's pressing to your cheeks, loving the way he cares for you.

"Missed my baby so much," he accentuates his words with a tight squeeze, making your heart do the same. You let out a soft missed you too, feeling sleepy in his arms.

Cradling your body, you feel him rise from the couch. He turns off the TV, but alarm bells ring in the back of your head.

"Sannie."

"Hm?"

"Can you take my Birkin to my wardrobe please?" you mumble. San tries his best to hold in his laugh, so he doesn't disturb you. Not even a mind-shattering orgasm could make you forget about your Birkin.

"Of course, baby," Is the last thing you here before your eyes close for the night.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Skepticism

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(NFL)football player!reader

Summary: Tim is skeptical about the first female NFL player. When he shares his opinion with you, he doesn't realize that you are the woman he's talking about.

Warnings: fluff, Tim gets embarrassed and apologizes a bunch, flirting

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

A/N: Bodyguard Tim👀 If this reads like Eric Winter talking about sports in He Said, Ella Dijo just remember that he's Tim Bradford. They're pretty much the same.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The history of the NFL has changed forever! The first female player has been drafted into the NFL, in the Los Angeles Rams’ 13th pick.

Since the moment your name was called at the NFL draft, your life has been turned upside down. Being the first female player in the league has resulted in unending news coverage, mixed praise and backlash, and unescapable attention. People know your name now, and as you prepare to change your life forever by putting on a Rams jersey, you can only hope that the skeptics are wrong about you and what you’ll do on the field.

“Dinner tomorrow!” Lucy yells at Tim. “Be there!”

“I will,” he replies. “Unfortunately.”

“Be nice,” Angela chides.

“You can always back out and stay home to watch the game,” Nolan points out.

“If they’ll start showing the games again,” a nearby officer interjects. “Everything on ESPN has been about the chick that got drafted. Even during the games, she’s all the commentators can talk about.”

“There’s a girl in the NFL?” Lucy asks. “Finally!”

“Wait, who?” Tim inquires. “I stopped watching the draft before it was over, but how’d I miss that?”

“You must’ve been very busy,” the officer replies. “She’s everywhere, man. Football got ruined. They can’t leave anything sacred.”

Tim doesn’t add to the misogynistic view of his colleague but knows that he has some research to do. Football history has certainly changed, but Tim won’t decide on how he feels about a woman playing professionally until he learns more for himself.

“The Rams, man,” the officer laments.

The moment Tim arrives home after his shift, he turns on ESPN. SportsCenter is on, and he’s unsurprised to see a woman’s name projected behind the men at the desk.

“No, John, what we’re failing to consider is her history,” Rocky Boiman points out. “Her college playing record is better than the twelve male drafts ahead of her.”

“The point remains that a historically male-dominant sport is supposed to be male-dominant,” John Anderson argues.

“If we take the gender out, the size difference, everything except how well these people play, she blends right in,” Tedy Bruschi states. “Regardless of whether or not she should play, she can play, and she does it very well.”

“I’ve been watching her in action since her senior year of high school,” Rocky adds. “If anybody has what it takes to be here, we’re looking at her.”

“Until she gets hit,” John comments. “There may not be regulations against female players, but statistically, she is more likely to be injured.”

“Then she would’ve been injured in college,” Tedy interrupts. “At the end of the day, this comes down to one of two things. Either you don’t think women should be in the NFL, for whatever reason, or you’re ignoring the facts and judging her prematurely. I will end with this, if you think this woman should quit before she starts, you’re going to be proved wrong.”

The SportsCenter logo appears on the screen before Sarah Barshop of the Rams and Matt Bowen, an analyst, begin reviewing your stats and playing history. You played in college, but your stature and your above average statistics alone don’t convince Tim. Not because you’re a woman, but because he’s seen better odds. He’ll never say that you don’t deserve a spot on the team, but he won’t believe that you can make a difference to the team until he sees it. If you can prove it at all.

“They’re talking about you again,” your friend says.

You look up from your playbook diagram and smile. The men on SportsCenter have been talking about you every chance they get. It’s not just them, though, everyone with a pulse and an ounce of interest in football has an opinion of you.

“Still arguing about if I’ll get my collarbone snapped in the first game?” you guess. “Or have they moved on to female hormones?”

“Most of them are defending you. Your stats are all they seem to care about,” your friend explains. “Maybe you will have a fan base bigger than me and my cats.”

“But you’re all I need.”

“That and a Rams paycheck.”

You laugh and return your attention to the book before you. You’re entering a new world with a lot to prove, so you’re going to be ready for anything.

“Hey, we should go to dinner tomorrow night. We haven’t had time to celebrate with all of the interviews and everything.”

“That sounds great. Just don’t pick a sports bar.”

Tim looks away from the football game to check his watch. He’s got half an hour until Angela, Wesley, Lucy, Nolan, Nyla, James, Wade, and Luna are supposed to be here for dinner. Although Tim doesn’t remember whose decision it was to meet for an “end of the hardest week this year” dinner, he agreed to come. When he arrived nearly an hour early because he had nothing better to do, he found a seat at the bar and got invested in a game.

The restaurant isn’t busy, but the bar is nearly at capacity. It seems that everyone who wasn’t arrested this past week is now here, watching football and listening to updates on you. Every chance the announcers and reporters get, they bring you up. Tim refuses to change his opinion until he sees you in action. Your highlight reel has become an hourly regular on ESPN, but you’ll have to get through training and into next season before any of it will truly matter.

“What do you think about it?” the bartender asks as he wipes the spot beside Tim.

“I think we won’t know until we see her play,” Tim answers. “If we see her play.”

“My boss is convinced she’ll lead them to the Super Bowl, but I don’t think it’ll be that straightforward.”

“It never is,” Tim agrees.

“I also think it’s a little strange they don’t show her face. She was at the draft, but everything since then has been her in her uniform or at least her helmet.”

Someone yells for the bartender, and he nods at Tim before he walks away. It is strange, but Tim assumes that they’re trying to maintain the public image of you as a football player, and not just a woman.

As you enter the restaurant, you receive a text from your friend. Running late, so don’t have fun until I get there. You shake your head at the short message and ask the hostess for a seat at the bar while you wait. She points you toward the entrance, and you focus on finding a seat and avoiding any unnecessary spills as you navigate the crowded area.

“Excuse me?” you ask a man seated at the bar. “Can I sit here for just a few minutes?”

He turns toward you and nods, and your responding smile isn’t only gratitude. The man is incredibly attractive, you realize. As you sit on the stool beside him, you notice his attention is on the television screens over the bar. Several of them are broadcasting college football games, yet you see your name appear in the closed captions.

“Which game looks the best?” you ask him.

“Penn State and Missouri game isn’t bad,” he answers.

“Missouri’s better, I assume.”

“Aren’t they always?” he asks lightly.

Penn State’s coach calls a time out and you ask the bartender for a glass of water as the screen changes to the commentators. One of them mentions a play you made in college, and you roll your eyes. You don’t mind the attention, but they’re taking what should be about the players playing now and making it about you. The man beside you scoffs, and your smile grows.

“It never ends,” he mumbles under his breath, and he spins his bottle in one hand.

“Tired of hearing about her?” you ask.

“I mean, I don’t want to sound like every other man in this city, but, yeah, a little.”

“I get that. Skepticism isn’t a bad thing; you can have an opinion.”

“I’m just not sure I can have an opinion until she starts playing. Yeah, her college history was good, but she’s not in college anymore.”

“Right,” you agree.

“There’s a reason there hasn’t been a woman in a sport that intense. Injuries would be detrimental to her and the team,” he points out. “Not to mention the fact that we’ve only seen the good, every time someone tries to mention something she can’t do well, they get cut off with don’t judge her because she’s a woman.”

“Not that I don’t agree with the injury thing, but, I mean, women have been playing rugby for years and it’s just as intense.”

“Yeah, but that’s with other women. Seems like there’s just too much at stake for one girl to make history in the NFL. She hasn’t even proved anything yet other than the fact that women can be drafted.”

“And you don’t think she can prove more?” you ask. “Skeptical that she makes it through the next part?”

He lifts his glass and shrugs, which you take as a firm yes.

“I played football in high school,” he adds. “And I feel like I can see talent when it’s there. She has talent, I’m not arguing that, but I don’t see NFL-worthy talent yet.”

Someone says your name, and you turn. It’s a college-aged girl, and she smiles shyly as she asks for a picture. You immediately agree and slide out of your seat to hug her and take the picture.

As you pose with her, you notice that the man beside you is staring at his bottle with his lips pressed together. Maybe you should have introduced yourself the moment your name came up, but you wanted to hear the truth. And the fact that he didn’t just say no, she can’t do it gave you a boost of hope that you can. Skepticism is better than complete doubt.

“Sorry,” you tell him as you return to the stool beside him.

“No, I’m sorry,” he replies quickly. “I probably should have recognized you, but what I said- I mean, you’ve got talent, and I shouldn’t have said that you didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt with a laugh. “I needed someone to be honest to my face for once.”

“You’re getting plenty of direct negative opinions,” he points out. “And I’m sorry.”

“Now you’re apologizing for every other football fan. Seriously, it’s no problem, no hard feelings.”

“But I-“

“You’re a cop, right?” you interrupt, gesturing to the badge on his hip. He nods, and you answer, “Truth and justice is your thing. You made some good points, too. I’ll use ‘em in my training to prove all the other skeptics wrong.”

“Which I believe you can! Seriously, though, can I buy you a drink or something? Anything to make it up to you?”

“Make what up?” you question, smiling as you lay your hand over his forearm. “I forgive you if that’s what you need to hear, but you didn’t do anything worth apologizing for.”

You move your hand to offer a handshake and properly introduce yourself. He inhales deeply before he shakes your hand.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he says.

“And you’re a cop, I play football,” you finish. “Now that we know each other, can I ask what you’re doing here alone?”

“Guy like me in a place like this?” he jokes. “I’m waiting to meet some friends from work.”

You nod and say, “I’m meeting a friend, too. A little celebration of sorts.”

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure,” you agree.

“What made you get into football? Why it over any other sport?”

“Bear Bryant,” you answer seriously.

“Really?” Tim questions with his eyes narrowed.

“You’ll have to watch my ESPN special to find out. That or we could do this again another time, without the accidental meeting.”

“People are going to think you’re in this sport just to meet men,” Tim replies.

“Who says I’m not?” you tease. “But, seriously, you’re great, and I bet you could tell me how to win a Super Bowl.”

“You’re the football pro,” he points out. “I’m just a cop.”

You nod and look away, disappointed by his implied rejection. Suddenly, though, you remember what your agent told you.

“Well, if you don’t want to go on a date… I do need a bodyguard on my security team.”

Tim’s eyebrows raise as he turns in his seat to face you. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

You look away when your friend calls your name, and you wave at her before you stand. Stalling at Tim’s side, you add, “Think about it. I’d love to flirt with a bodyguard.”

“I will,” Tim promises softly.

“Come find me if you decide tonight.”

You smile at Tim and grip his arm kindly in place of a farewell. Tim Bradford believes in you and is considering your offered position of bodyguard, so you know you can get a Super Bowl ring this year. No matter how skeptical everyone else is.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

If Lynn wants to hug him later, that’ll be really great, but he just–he really doesn’t want to be one of those foster parents who always pushes. Pretends like they’re closer to a kid than they are or like that kid should be grateful for every little thing or give them everything they want or . . . whatever. 

Even if Lynn never wants a hug from him at all, at least then Lynn can know Billy’s not gonna punish him for it. Can feel–safe, knowing that. 

More than anything else, Billy really, really wants Lynn to feel safe with him. 

“Safe” is . . . 

It’s just harder to come by than a lot of people think it is, that’s all. 

Lynn . . . hesitates, again, and looks at the pillow Billy’s holding out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then gingerly wraps his arms around Tawky in awkward imitation of him. Billy beams at him, trying not to be weird about it or anything. Lynn kind of thinks like a teenager, obviously, but also he’s just a baby, so . . . well, it’s kinda hard to be sure how to balance that kind of thing. 

Billy just has to figure it out, though. He can do that. His dad would’ve, so–yeah. 

So he’s gonna do it too. 

“Yeah, like that,” he confirms, and Lynn looks embarrassed and looks away. “Tawky’s nice to hug, right?” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, still looking embarrassed. Billy isn’t sure if it’s the “thinking kind of like a teenager” thing or if he’s just feeling awkward about doing a new thing, but figures that’s Lynn’s business anyway. He sneaks a glance at Tawky while Lynn’s still looking at the wall and flashes him an encouraging thumbs up, and Tawky stays contentedly hugged in Lynn’s arms. Billy’s glad Lynn feels comfortable enough to hug him, at least. Sometimes being a stuffed animal is even more useful than being a superhero. 

He wishes he could hug Lynn right now too, but–well, like he said, he’d rather Lynn feel safe with him than anything else. 

The ten minutes is pretty much up by then, so after Lynn and Tawky have gotten in a little more hugging, they all walk to the library together. Lynn looks at the sky a lot and seems a little awkward carrying Tawky, like he’s still not sure what the best way to do it is, but Tawky’s obviously still content to just hang out quietly and people-watch a little on the walk. Billy points out where some stuff is in the neighborhood, and at the library Lynn looks totally overwhelmed, which, well . . . it’s not a very big library, honestly, but it’s still gotta be thousands of books and Lynn’s never been in one at all before, so Billy can’t blame him for it. 

The librarian helps “Rocky Morgan” sign up for a library card, since “Lynn Morgan” doesn’t have paperwork or anything yet and Billy’s not sure how that’d work and doesn’t wanna test it before Batman gives the all-clear, and then they walk through all the sections together one-by-one. Billy figures they can just pick out a book each from each of the main sections, and then there’ll be lots of different stuff for Lynn to try. 

They get a couple big art books and a couple mysteries, a couple romance novels, some sci-fi, fantasy, westerns, thrillers, history and autobiographies, some classics, and a few different picture books, though Billy figures they can skip the hard science stuff and self-help for right now. Though he does find a cool-looking astronomy book, and maybe Lynn’ll like that? He’s not actually an alien, obviously–Billy guesses he’d be more like . . . what, a second-generation immigrant or something?–but space is still cool. They also pick out a couple of cookbooks, because Billy figures it’ll help Lynn decide what to cook and help him remember the recipes without having to ask Lynn what he’s supposed to do every five minutes. 

It’s a lot of books, but they’ve got super-strength and also Billy doesn’t want Lynn to end up stuck reading things he doesn’t like just because there’s nothing else in the apartment; he wants to give him a lot of options to pick from and figure out what he likes from. Lynn’s a baby. He shouldn’t get stuck with just boring stuff to read. 

The library’s old and kind of fancy. Lynn looks out the high wrought-iron windows at the sky while the librarian checks them out, looking . . . confused, a little, or maybe just like he’s thinking. Billy doesn’t really know his expressions well enough to tell either way. The library’s bright, though, and there’s a lot of windows and a lot of places to sit and read with a lot of natural light in them, so if Lynn decides he likes to read, maybe they could come regularly? Like, once a week or every couple weeks, maybe, depending, Billy figures. He’s spent a lot of time in libraries to get out of the rain or cold or snow, personally, and it was . . . nice, sometimes. There was always stuff to read and somewhere to sit and the librarians were usually nice too, as long as he didn’t fall asleep anywhere too public. So–nice, sometimes. 

Nicer than hiding in a doorway or a stairwell or under the slide at the park or in a gazebo or–

Just–it was nicer. And safer. And sometimes he’d look at the archeology books and pretend Mom and Dad were just still on a dig, and they’d be coming to get him soon. Coming to–take him home, soon. 

. . . maybe Lynn could come to the library by himself, if he ever wants some alone time or something.

[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

[lackadaisycats]

Does Rocky drink? I might be forgetting a moment from the comic, but I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen him have alcohol. Would the ensuing chaos simply be too much for the world (considering the effects of syrup) or is it a “if I take any of your hard-earned liquor it would be an act of betrayal” thing? Or does he drink and I’m just completely forgetting? This is such a trivial question but it’s been plaguing my mind all day help 😭

Despite his line of work, you could say he's a teetotaler. He wouldn't drink any of what he considers Mitzi's inventory even if he did partake, though. And he is pretty judgmental of Wick's frequent presence at the bar, but it's not exactly because he objects to drinking on principle (or he'd take issue with the entire band). He has sampled alcohol before, but it definitely doesn't give him the same kind of high that a syrup-filled morning coffee does.

His abstinence is mostly to do with past experience.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 1/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, tough topics

Word Count: 4167

A/N: Alright. I'm only going to write this once. Danneel doesn't come off well in this story. She's pretty much described as the devil himself. She does and says things that are absolutely awful. In this Story she's pretty much the biggest bitch. I don't want to hear any complaints because it's just a story. Fiction. No hate towards anyone. So, that being said, I hope you enjoy reading it.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jared parked in front of the airport in Austin, his fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel. It had been too long since he had seen Jensen outside of the conventions. This visit was different, just for spending time together, no panels, no crowds. As he waited, Jared couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. It was the first time Jensen was visiting him after he moved away from Austin, a chance for them to catch up without the chaos of their usual meet-ups.

As Jared watched the stream of passengers disembarking from the plane, his mind drifted back to the rocky path that had led them to this moment. Their friendship had weathered its fair share of storms, strained by distance, conflicting schedules, and the pressures of their respective careers. Yet, despite the challenges, they had somehow found their way back to each other. It had taken time, effort, and countless late-night conversations, but slowly, they had begun to rebuild what they had once thought lost.

This weekend, as they celebrated Jared's birthday together, it felt like a new chapter unfolding. Jensen's decision to fly to Austin, despite his busy filming and convention schedule, spoke volumes about the strength of their renewed bond. As Jared caught sight of Jensen emerging from the crowd, a genuine smile spread across his face, washing away any lingering doubts or tensions. This weekend was about reconnecting, about rediscovering the camaraderie that had always defined their relationship.

Jensen opened the trunk and unceremoniously tossed his suitcase inside before collapsing into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking every bit as exhausted and worn-out as Jared had feared.

"Wow, someone looks like they've been through the wringer", Jared teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he started the car.

Jensen shot him a mock glare, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "Thanks, Jared. Always great to get a warm welcome", he quipped, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice despite his worn-out demeanor.

"Just calling it like I see it, man", Jared chuckled, pulling out of the parking spot and heading towards the exit. "But seriously, you look like you could use a week-long vacation on a deserted island".

"Tell me about it", Jensen muttered, sinking back into the seat and closing his eyes for a moment. "Filming has been brutal lately. I swear, I'm starting to feel every single one of my thirty-something years".

Jared couldn't help but chuckle at Jensen's dramatics. "Thirty-something? More like ancient, old man", he teased, earning himself a playful shove from Jensen.

"Hey, watch it, Padalecki. I may be old, but I can still kick your ass", Jensen retorted with a smirk, the weariness momentarily forgotten as the car with little laughter.

As Jared merged onto the highway, the gentle hum of the car filled the silence between them. Glancing over at Jensen, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface.

“So, it’s just the filming that’s got you looking like you’ve aged a decade overnight?”, Jared ventured, keeping his tone light but his concern evident.

Jensen let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. “Yeah, filming’s been intense, but that’s not all of it”, he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation.

Jared knew better than to push too hard, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. “Is everything okay at home?”, he asked tentatively, knowing full well the delicate balance Jensen was trying to maintain.

Jensen’s jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine”, he replied, his tone betraying the lie.

But Jared wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “Come on, man. You don’t have to pretend with me”, he pressed gently, his concern outweighing any discomfort he felt broaching the topic.

Jensen hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Things… haven’t been great”, he admitted, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.

Jared could sense Jensen's internal struggle, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Before he could push him further, however, Jensen seemed to retreat, throwing up his defenses like a shield.

"Hey, forget I said anything, okay?", Jensen mumbled, his voice barely audible over the sound of the car's engine. "Let's just focus on having a good time this weekend. I could really use a break… from everything".

Jared nodded, respecting Jensen's boundaries even as his heart ached for his friend's pain. "Yeah, of course", he replied, his tone gentle yet supportive. "We'll make sure this weekend is all about relaxing and having fun. No drama, no stress".

Jensen managed a small, grateful smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks. I appreciate it", he said quietly, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual facade of strength.

As they continued down the highway, the weight of their unspoken conversations hung heavy in the air, but for now, they both agreed to set aside their worries.

As the miles flew by, a more simple conversation flowed easily between Jared and Jensen, the tension of their earlier exchange dissipating with each passing moment. It didn't even take 30 minutes until Jared pulled into the familiar driveway of his family home.

"Home sweet home", Jared announced with a grin, turning off the engine and casting a sideways glance at Jensen. "Welcome back to Casa Padalecki".

Jensen chuckled, the weariness in his eyes momentarily replaced by a spark of excitement. "Thanks, man. It's good to be here", he replied, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As Jared and Jensen climbed the front porch steps, they were met with the eager faces of Tom and Shep peeking out from behind the screen door. The boys' eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Jensen standing there, and their excitement was palpable.

"Uncle Jensen!", Tom exclaimed, darting forward to wrap his arms around Jensen in a tight hug, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

Shep followed suit, his smaller frame joining in the embrace as he grinned up at Jensen. "We didn't think you were really coming!", he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and joy.

Jensen chuckled warmly, returning their hugs with equal affection. "Well, here I am", he replied, tousling their hair playfully. "I couldn't miss the chance to hang out with you two".

As they stepped inside the house, laughter and chatter filled the air, the boys buzzing with excitement at the prospect of spending time with their favorite ´uncle´. Jared couldn't help but smile at the sight, grateful for the bond that had formed between Jensen and his sons over the years. With Jensen back in their lives, even just for the weekend, he knew that memories would be made and cherished for years to come.

As Tom and Shep dashed off to explore the backyard, their laughter echoing through the house, Jensen turned to Jared with a curious expression.

"So, where's Gen and mini Gen?", Jensen asked, a playful twinkle in his eye as he referred to Jared's wife and daughter.

Jared glanced at the clock on the wall, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "They're out shopping", he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Looks like it's just us guys for now".

Jensen chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Ah, a little father-son bonding time, huh?", he remarked.

"Yeah, something like that", Jared replied, his gaze drifting toward the backyard where the sounds of his sons' laughter drifted in through the open door.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the backyard, Jared and Jensen found themselves sitting side by side, beers in hand, watching as Tom and Shep played with the chickens.

Jared took a sip of his beer, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "So, how are the kids?", he asked, his tone casual but genuine.

Jensen's smile faltered slightly at the mention of his own children, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced grin. "They're good", he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Busy with school and all that".

Jared nodded, though he could sense there was more to the story than Jensen was letting on. He had seen firsthand how Jensen had thrown himself into his work, often using it as a means of escape from the troubles at home.

"Must be tough juggling all that work and family", Jared remarked sympathetically, knowing all too well the pressures of balancing a career with family responsibilities.

"Yeah, it's… still challenging", Jensen admitted, his gaze drifting off into the distance. "But hey, enough about me. How's Gen and the kids? They keeping you on your toes?".

Jared chuckled, grateful for the diversion. "Always", he replied with a fond smile. "But wouldn't have it any other way".

As they sat together in the fading light, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air, Jared couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much left unsaid between them.

As the evening wore on and the sky darkened, Gen and Odette returned home, their arrival greeted with hugs and laughter from Jensen. They exchanged pleasantries and caught up on each other's lives, the warmth of their conversation filling the air.

However, as the hour grew late and the kids were ushered off to bed by Gen, a sense of tranquility settled over the house. Now alone in the quiet of the evening, Jared and Jensen found themselves relaxing on the porch once more, the glow of their beers casting long shadows in the dim light.

But their peace was short-lived as Jensen's phone rang, breaking the serene atmosphere with its shrill tone. With a frustrated groan, Jensen glanced at the caller ID, his annoyance evident.

"Danneel?", Jared asked quietly, his brow furrowing with concern as he watched Jensen quickly silence the call.

Jensen nodded, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice heavy with irritation. "Probably just checking in to make sure I'm not having too much fun".

Jared could sense the tension radiating from his friend, the weight of Jensen's strained marriage casting a shadow over their evening.

Jared let out a heavy sigh, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily on his chest. Finally, unable to contain his thoughts any longer, he spoke up, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and concern.

"Jensen, can I ask you something?", Jared began, his gaze fixed on his friend. "Why won't you just finally leave her?".

The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of years of silence and suppressed emotions. Jared knew it was a delicate subject, one that had been tiptoed around for far too long, but he couldn't stand by any longer and watch his friend suffer in silence.

Jensen's expression hardened, a flicker of defiance crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. "It's complicated. You know that", he replied evasively, his voice betraying the turmoil raging beneath the surface.

"But is it really?", Jared pressed, his tone gentle yet insistent. "I mean, I get that there are always reasons, but at what point do you say enough is enough?".

Jensen's jaw tightened, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he wrestled with his inner demons. "I wish it were that simple", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you have no idea what she's capable of".

Jared's heart ached at the pain etched into Jensen's features, the deep-rooted fear and resignation that seemed to consume him. But he refused to back down, knowing that sometimes, the hardest conversations were the ones that needed to be had the most.

"I know it's fucking scary", Jared admitted softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Jensen's shoulder. "But you don't have to face it alone, you know. We're here for you, no matter what".

Jensen's grip tightened around his beer bottle, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Jared", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "If I try to leave, she'll make sure I never see my kids again. She'll ruin me. In every fucking way possible".

Jared's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "And what do you think she's doing right now? Keeping you trapped, suffocating you with her control", he retorted, his voice tinged with anger. "She's already ruining you, Jensen. Can't you see that?".

Jensen's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to find the words to express the turmoil raging within him. "I can't risk losing my kids, my image, my career", he finally admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't".

Jared's heart ached for his friend, the pain etched into every line of his face. But he refused to let Jensen succumb to the fear and manipulation any longer.

"You're stronger than that, Jensen", Jared said firmly, his voice filled with conviction.

Jared's frustration softened into determination. "Listen to me, Jensen. You need to stop letting her control you", he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "You just need to get yourself a damn good lawyer".

Jensen's gaze flickered with uncertainty, the weight of Jared's words sinking in. "But what if it's not enough?", he whispered, his voice filled with doubt.

"It's a start", Jared replied, his tone resolute. "And you're not alone in this. We'll find you the best lawyer, one who'll fight tooth and nail to make sure she won´t ruin your life more than she already did".

As they sat in the quiet of the backyard, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air, Jensen felt a glimmer of hope stir within him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

But then, with a heavy sigh, Jensen's resolve wavered as he confessed, "I can't take it anymore, Jared. Every time I'm home, I feel like I'm suffocating. I drown myself in conventions just to get away from her. And when I am home, I'm mostly drunk just to be able to deal with her".

Jared's heart sank at the raw honesty in Jensen's words, the pain and despair evident in every syllable. But he refused to let his friend continue down this destructive path.

"We'll figure it out, Jensen," Jared said firmly, his voice filled with conviction.

Jared knew how bad Jensen really was. For years he could do nothing but watch as Danneel destroyed his best friend. Publicly humiliated him, manipulated him and mentally abused him. She gradually destroyed his self-confidence, his friendships and caused him to isolate himself from everyone. Jared wanted nothing more than to finally see his best friend happy again. Truly happy. But with Danneel and her toxic personality by his side, that wouldn't happen. So he hoped to use the time they had together well enough to somehow get through to Jensen.

As Jensen made his way to the guestroom an hour later, the weight of the evening's conversation hung heavy on his shoulders, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions and stress. Each step felt like a burden, the familiar sense of suffocation creeping in as he retreated from the warmth of Jared's home to the solitude of his temporary sanctuary.

Slipping into the guestroom, Jensen closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh, the darkness of the room enveloping him like a shroud. He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to quiet the storm raging within him.

But despite his best efforts, the memories and fears clawed their way to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him with their intensity.

And as he lay there in the silence of the night, the weight of his burdens pressing down upon him, Jensen couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way out of the darkness that had consumed him for so long. But for now, all he could do was try to find solace in the quiet of the night, hoping that somehow, someway, he would find the strength to face another day.

The next morning, Jared and Gen bustled around the kitchen, the savory aroma of breakfast filling the air as they worked together with Odette by their side. The sound of laughter and chatter filled the room, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung over the house the night before.

As they set the table with plates of pancakes and fresh fruit, Jared glanced at Gen with a playful smirk. "Think Jensen will be able to handle waking up to the smell of your cooking?", he teased, earning a chuckle from his wife.

Gen rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in her expression. "He better be ready for the Padalecki family breakfast experience", she replied with a grin, her culinary skills on full display.

Just then, Tom bounded into the kitchen, his energy infectious as he eagerly awaited his next task. "Can I go wake up Uncle Jensen now, Dad?", he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Jared nodded with a smile, ruffling Tom's hair affectionately. "Go for it, buddy. Just try not to scare him too much", he replied, unable to contain his own amusement at the thought of Jensen's reaction to being roused from his slumber.

With a mischievous grin, Tom dashed off to carry out his mission, leaving Jared and Gen to share a knowing look.

As Tom made his way towards the guestroom, his excitement bubbling over, he couldn't help but feel a mischievous urge creeping in. Quietly, he slipped inside, tiptoeing towards Jensen's bed with a grin plastered on his face.

With a sly glance towards Jensen, still lost in slumber, Tom couldn't resist the temptation. He settled himself down beside Jensen, his heart racing with anticipation. And then, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he let out a loud fart, breaking the silence of the room with a resounding blast.

Jensen jolted awake with a start, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Tom in disbelief. "What the…", he sputtered, his voice trailing off as he tried to process what had just happened.

Tom couldn't contain his laughter, doubling over with mirth as he reveled in the chaos he had created. "Gotcha, Uncle Jensen!", he exclaimed between giggles, unable to contain his excitement at the successful prank.

Jensen instantly grimaced, his hand flying to cover his nose as the pungent odor assaulted his senses. "Oh, man, Tom! What did you eat?", he exclaimed, his voice muffled by his hand as he tried to escape the noxious fumes.

Tom doubled over with laughter, barely able to catch his breath between fits of giggles. "Sorry, Uncle Jensen!", he managed to squeak out between laughs.

Jensen waved his hand in front of his face, desperately trying to dispel the stench that hung in the air. "You're absolutely your dad's kid", he grumbled, his tone laced with both amusement and exasperation. "Damn, that fucking stinks!".

Again Jensen waved his hand in front of his face, still trying to rid the room of the lingering smell. "Alright, alright, Tom", he said with a chuckle, trying to mask his amusement. "Why don't you go air out that stinking butt of yours while I get dressed?".

Tom grinned mischievously, his laughter echoing through the room as he bounded out of the guestroom, leaving Jensen to shake his head in amusement.

Dressed and somehow awake, Jensen made his way towards the kitchen, the promise of breakfast and laughter drawing him forward.

Jensen took a seat at the table, a grin playing at the corners of his lips as he recounted Tom's prank to Jared. "You won't believe what your son just did", he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Jared raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh? What did he do this time?", he asked with a smirk, already bracing himself for another one of Tom's antics.

"He let out the loudest fart I've ever heard right next to my face", Jensen replied, his laughter infectious as he recounted the incident. "I swear, that kid is just like his old man".

Jared couldn't help but laugh at the image of his son terrorizing Jensen with his infamous flatulence. "Well, I guess he takes after me in more ways than one", he quipped, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Shep and Odette's laughter filled the room, their amusement at Tom's antics contagious as they teased their brother relentlessly. Gen couldn't help but shake her head affectionately at their sibling banter.

Turning to Jared, Gen's smile widened as she made a suggestion. "Hey, do you think you and Jensen could handle getting the drinks for tonight's party?", she asked, her tone hopeful as she looked between her husband and his friend.

Jared grinned at the idea, nodding eagerly. "Of course", he replied, excitement lighting up his eyes. "Consider it our mission. We'll make sure we have plenty of drinks to keep the party going all night long".

Jensen nodded in agreement. "You can count on us", he chimed in.

As they made plans for the evening's festivities, the anticipation of the birthday party ahead filled the room with a sense of excitement.

Two hours later, Jensen found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Jared's car, the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the road soothing his frayed nerves. They were on their way to the next liquor store, their mission to stock up for Jared's birthday party well underway.

Jared glanced over at Jensen with a grin, the excitement of the evening ahead evident in his eyes. "Ready to make a dent in the liquor aisle?", he joked, his tone light as he navigated through the traffic.

Jensen chuckled, a sense of camaraderie washing over him as he settled back into his seat. "You bet", he replied. "Just promise me we won't end up with more beer than we can carry".

Jared laughed, shaking his head at his friend's jest. "No promises", he teased, though there was a hint of mischief in his tone.

As Jared disappeared in search of the restroom, Jensen remained leaning against the overflowing shopping cart, his expression a mix of boredom and introspection. With each passing moment, he found himself sinking deeper into his own thoughts. Again the weight of his troubles pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within, the nagging sense that he was trapped in a life that no longer brought him joy. Despite the excitement of Jared's birthday party looming on the horizon, Jensen couldn't escape the shadows of his own turmoil that threatened to engulf him at every turn.

Lost in his thoughts, Jensen barely noticed the bustle of shoppers around him as they navigated the crowded aisles of the liquor store. His mind was a whirlwind of memories and regrets, a tangled web of emotions that left him feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Lost in his thoughts, Jensen barely registered the collision until he felt the impact against his back. Startled, he stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance as he turned to see what had caused the disturbance.

"Hey, fucking watch where you're going!", he grumbled irritably, his frustration evident in his tone as he glanced over his shoulder.

But as he turned around, ready to unleash a torrent of curses, Jensen's words died on his lips as he met your gaze.

"Sorry", you apologized quickly, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you struggled to regain your composure and the bottles of whiskey in your arms. "I didn't see you there".

Jensen's irritation faded, his annoyance evaporating as he took in your apologetic expression. "It's okay", he replied more softly. "No harm done".

———————————

A/N: I wanted to give you a little preview. I don't know exactly when it will continue. If you want to be tagged, please let me know <3 It's going to be a damn long story, that's for sure, lol.

Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 2

[silverwhittlingknife]

The Bats Are Fighting (Distaff Edition)

some conflicts I enjoy:

Babs is pretty hostile/judgy toward Helena at first & is bitterly upset and hurt when Helena starts wearing a Bat costume - apparently a Batgirl costume - without asking her. Later on, Bruce chases Helena out of the costume, and Babs gives Cass the Batgirl costume with her explicit blessing. Helena and Cass never have a rivalry over this exactly, but I don't think they ever really get along, either

Babs and Helena eventually make up when Babs lets Helena join the Birds of Prey but it's rocky in the beginning - Babs dislikes Helena's methods and doesn't entirely trust her; Helena resents being kept on the outside

Steph is super-impressed by Cass and tries to get her to like her and they eventually get close, but Cass has a pretty low opinion of Steph-as-a-vigilante and doesn't hesitate to boss her around or knock her out, and she's super-hurt by Steph lying to her about what's going on during War Games (probably not unrelated: Cass is the only Bat to blame Steph instead of Bruce after Steph dies)

Babs and Cass get very close but also have tensions because Babs wants Cass to have the 'normal' life that Babs thinks she should've tried harder to have when she was younger, and Cass isn't entirely comfortable with this pressure, plus - this one I think is a bit more well-known - Babs spends a lot of time tutoring Cass and looking after her (awww), BUT ALSO in a tense moment she gets really nasty and harsh about Cass's reluctance to learn to read and calls her "stupid"

Dinah finds Steph REALLY annoying and wants her to stop tagging around after her... until she finds out about Steph's miserable home life, and then she appears like an avenging angel and kicks Steph's dad and his cronies out of the house

Babs decides to work with a guy who tortured Dinah because she thinks he's capable of redemption and Dinah is NOT HAPPY about it

Just generally, Steph and Helena are very much outsiders who don't get brought into the "core" Batfam and who aren't trusted with info like Bruce's secret identity. By contrast, Babs is an insider almost from Day 1 - she may have conflicts with Bruce, but she's also got his absolute trust - and Dinah is as insider as it gets, with a mom who was also Black Canary and a stint on the JLA

other general characterization notes that cause Conflict (TM):

Babs is pretty much a classic Bat - she's got a ton of control issues and she's an instinctively secretive workaholic

Helena is an adult who will kill people if she damn well feels it's necessary and she doesn't appreciate being lectured about it

Steph is a defensive teenage outsider with a bucketload of family problems - deadbeat evil dad! addict mom! - and when she's upset she's got a reckless self-destructive streak

Cass is very much like Bruce in that 1) she is wildly super mega good at fighting, 2) she's an instinctive loner who's comically bad at people AND YET she can nevertheless effortlessly manage to head off to a foreign country for a weekend and have a passionately-felt mutual love affair with some random criminal or something, and then that person dies & she goes home like nothing happened, 3) she cares about other people but completely sucks at communication & when in doubt will just go silent & take off or refuse to have conversations, 4) because she hates talking sometimes she'll just knock you out or hit you so that she won't have to do it, 5) she will spend an entire year planning to have a fight to the death with someone for Reasons and tell no one about it because why would she tell someone

anyway they're all terrible <3

[cupidlovesastro]

astrology observations #3 (based on my experience)

✰ water venus’s can be very obsessed with people, emphasis if it’s in 7th or 12th house!! water venus are know to fall head over heels, so when it’s in 7th house, the house of relationships, it can make them fall harder than others. if it’s in the 12th, it could make you dream about this person a lot or feel intense spiritual connection to someone (good or bad)

✰ gemini moon or venus can actually be pretty clingy 😭. they love being their friends/ lover other half. they’re the type to always ask to hang out, or to get matching outfits, trinkets, nails, etc!

✰ sagittarius in jupiter, mercury, or pluto, and in 3rd house can make you speak very dramatically about things. you could also exaggerate stories!

✰ if your mom was intimidating when you were younger, she could’ve had fire or earth in her big 3😭

✰ speaking of mothers, water sign (scorpio, cancer, pisces) mothers with air sign (aquarius, gemini, libra) children seem to have rough or rocky relationships. usually because the mothers can be controlling or overbearing, while the air sign child wants freedom and to do what they want. their mothers may also over react to stuff and it can be a lot for the air sign child, or cause them to build certain attachment styles

✰ aqua moons are not detached or dry. believe it when they say they’re unpredictable because one moment they couldn’t care less and the next moment they could be breaking down (i’m literally an aqua moon LMAO)

✰having a lot of neptune energy or pisces can make you dream A LOT. if you ever feel stuck or confused in life, your dreams could tell you a lot about yourself and the parts of yourself you never see or don’t see often

✰gemini mercuries have a weird sense of humor LMAO

✰i believe sagittarius in big 3 or dominant people can actually be really good at manifesting IF THEY STOPPED CHANGING THEIR INTEREST EVERY 2 DAYS😭😭

✰if you’re sign is know to not get along with another sign, but you happen to get along with them, it could be because when you were younger you were around people that had that sign or has traits of that sign. for example, if you’re a capricorn, and people are like “sag and caps could never get along!”, your mom, dad, sibling, etc could’ve had that in their big 6

✰i notice people with 12th house stellium can look like they know something that you don’t or that they’re being secretive 💀

✰i notice a lot of aqua in big 3 people like video games

✰capricorns are so extremely passive aggressive and i feel like no one talks about it💀

[hoshigray]

So here's the scenario: Toji is your hot dilf apartment neighbor. You moved in next door to him, and you two hit it off as good neighbors ought to be. You're already in a relationship, but that "unfortunately" leads to a rocky end. But have no fear because Toji is here!

A/n: Just a lil' smthn I have to write out for a fic I'm about to write and not post bc I'm hella busy this week;;;w;;; But anyways, here we go, and I hope you enjoy! This was a lil rushed so sorry for typos or incorrect grammar!!

Cw: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - it gets cute the first half but smutty the next, so minors DNI - makeout session - daddy kink - pet names (baby, good girl, mama/ma, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - praise - missionary position - his dick touches your cervix - mention of violence and blood on Toji's end.

Wc: 1.7k

Dilf! Neighbor Toji...

...who rolls his eyes when he realizes someone will live next door to his unit. You first meet him on the day you move, happily introducing yourself to the tall man. Once he saw you, Toji was captivated by your kind tone and inviting atmosphere.

...who slowly but surely gets to know you as the days go on. You share moments of your life, and he shares some of his. You find out about his children, Tsumiki and Megumi, who you propose to babysit if he ever needs it, which is considered. Toji is told about your boyfriend whom you've been seeing for a long while. He pulls back from this information, but that doesn't mean he can't look at you when he pleases.

...whose children are the sweetest around you. Tsumiki enjoys playing and being around you, while her younger brother, Megumi, practically follows your every move like a baby duck. The more you spend time with them, the more you play a role in their life, and Toji can't help and think what if you were in their lives.

...who briefly meets your boyfriend and immediately catches a bad vibe from him. When he doesn't call or text you back after literal days go by, when he doesn't give you a ride to work even though you'd do so for him, even Toji's kids avoid him when he's around.

Oh, but the worse case of all was when Toji caught that little devil bringing another woman inside your apartment.

He wanted to do nothing but screw that man's face down, painting the hall with his blood. But he knows you'd be horrified, or worse, faint at the petrifying scene. So now, he stays quiet and waits for the perfect time.

...who loves the beautiful sound of your angry voice through the walls, with your door bursting open and your boyfriend's feet scampering down the stairs. Toji opens his door to see you breathing heavily, tears leaking on your face that's hot with anger and shame.

It hurts him to see you so broken, so he brings you inside for a cup of tea. It's up to you whether to talk about the issue; he knew you only needed company.

...who notices you hang out with him and his family without having to invite you over. Rather than going to your own apartment, you spend more time in his, playing games with his kids and making lunch for them or watching over the place while he's off doing hitmen business (which you don't know about yet).

He's not complaining at all, though. He welcomes you and would rather you be by his side than some other bastard who'd break your heart again.

...who enjoys it when it's just you two. The two of you are watching a movie together at Toji's, and the kids are at a sleepover.

You're lying next to him, your head resting on his shoulder with his hand stationed on yours. The television had your attention for quite some time until you felt someone's eyes looming into you. As you turn to see Toji, his gaze captures your eyes, and a smirk is thrown your way.

"What are you smiling about?" You raise a brow at him and chuckle.

A brow is raised in return. "Ya know you're very pretty, right?"

You bashfully look away from him. "Oh, stop it," you mumble as you can feel your face get a little hot. Toji snickers, the rise and fall of his chest causes your stomach to do flips.

"C'mon, don't be like that." He grips your shoulder to bring you closer, and his free hand gently pulls your face back to him. "I mean it, sweetheart. You're so fuckin' beautiful. You don't know what you do to me."

Your breathing goes slower, and your eyes can't seem to leave his green orbs. "What do I do to you?" Your voice drops down into a whisper.

There are no words. The two of you stare at one another as the movie fills the silence.

Toji's eyes don't leave yours, gaze so sharp as if you aren't allowed to either. The uncomfortable lack of response was gnawing you alive, and all you could do was hope for something to end this.

And then something does happen. Toji moves his face close enough for your nose to lightly brush his. Your body went rigid.

His chuckles were too low for your brain to function in this situation. "Nervous, huh? Close your eyes, baby. I'll take care of you."

You blink. Is this really happening right now?

Hesitation is present, yet your eyelids curtain your eyes. Toji grins harder in satisfaction and fulfills your silent request as his lips land on your anticipating plump ones.

Jerking a little, you reciprocate and kiss him back, your hands placed on his chest for some support. He brings one hand down to your back while the other holds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as his tongue governs over yours.

The kiss is broken, in addition to the shaky breaths you inhale to steady yourself. Toji peers at you through a haze, drinking in your soft expression and the cute whimpers.

He grins at you. "So beautiful fr' me, sweetie, so fuckin' beautiful." He kisses you again, and the sound you make when he bites your lip has him wanting more. "Damn..." Toji grabs the TV remote to mute the television and cups your face with his big hands. " C'mere, mama," he says, his lips taking control with lustful haste.

You yelp into his mouth when you lose your balance, and Toji takes the initiative to lay you on the couch. Comfortable with the new position, your hands can roam around his back that hides under the black turtleneck, and your legs hold onto his waist as he rocks into your throbbing core.

Toji is absolutely relishing this moment. All this time, he could only watch and respect your prior relationship. But the more you smiled at him, played and cared for his children, wished him luck on his missions, and even visited his late wife's grave to pay respects, his resistance was hanging by a thread bound to snap.

And now that he has you in his grasp, mewling and squirming under him and softly gasping out his name in ecstasy, Toji would be even more idiotic than your ex if he let such a darling like you whisk away after all you've done for him.

It took a few moments for the makeout session to end, the two of you gasping for air instantly. You look at Toji, only to be met with the most breathtaking picture of your life.

The light from the TV highlights a side of his face, with his lips a little swollen and red from all the kissing that transpired. Strands of his slick black hair gravitate downwards away from his forehead. His emerald eyes are hooded softly, but the intense gaze isn't hindered as the feeling of hunger is portrayed through them.

You chew the bottom of your lip in anxiousness, and Toji laughs breathlessly.

"See?" He caresses your cheek. "Told you I'd take care of you, princess."

...who can hear the vibration of your phone ringing on the bedroom floor, with the caller ID titled your ex's name. But it doesn't matter to Toji. No, sir. Because at this moment in time is when you deserve his full attention as you're crying and panting heavily under his bow, your figure pressed into the bed as he drives his cock deep inside of you.

Salty tears on your face are wiped away by his calloused fingers. "Hnnngh, shit, shit, shit," curses fly out through gritted teeth as he slows his pace down. "Haaaah, damn, baby. You're grippin' me so hard, I ain't goin' nowhere."

He has you under him in missionary, but it wasn't the first position of the night. You're in your third round, and your body is aching. Your lips are swollen and plump, your legs twitch around his sweaty body, and your abused vulva is now a slick-covered mess extending to your inner thighs. The base of his cock has formed a creamy ring, evidence of the connection between your sexes, along with the sounds of skin slapping against each other.

"Ahhhh, haaaah, Daddy, please—Mmmph!!" You feel the tip of his length brush your cervix, you clamp into him harder, and Toji hisses at your inner grasp around him.

His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion, but his tone still affects you. "Fuck, ma, I'm gonna— Aishhhh, oh fuck," his groans fill your ears, and a shiver is sent down your spine. "Where do you want it, sweetie?"

"I-I'll take the pill! Ahhaaa, please, Daddy, inside, inside!" Your words are slurred, but you choke them out for him to hear your demands.

"Heh, of course, for being such a good girl fr' me, mama." Toji's thrusts get erratically faster and harsher, your poor cervix being abused by the merciless intrusion of his dick.

Your eyes roll upwards as you let yourself go. You spasm around his girth and wait for him to finish. Toji hammers into you a few more cruel thrusts and then exhales out of heavy groan, eyebrows scrunched together as he releases himself into you.

Once you two come down from your high, he slowly moves off you and pulls his cock out. The cold feeling of cum and slick mixed together dripping out of your puffy cunt has you gasping.

Toji presses his forehead against yours and praises you for being such a good girl. You let out a worn-out chuckle and kissed his nose. The two of you lay together for a bit, harnessing the sense of bliss and peace as your bodies sink into the mattress when sleep succumbs to you both.

...who looks forward to you moving into his unit permanently, as well as Tsumiki and Megumi, counting the days for you to always be beside them. You fit the role of a family member by bringing them together. Toji realizes this and enjoys the thought of you being with his family, especially when the worst comes to worst. And even then, he'd lay down his life for your and his family's sake.

When the time comes, maybe another little being can join this happy union you've created, and Toji will be fully prepared.