#because why would it be any other day naturally

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

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•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

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[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 2

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI),smut, unrequited love, angst, reader gets hurt, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 5896

A/N: English is not my first language.

Dean hung out on the second floor with his new girlfriend while you and Sam watched TV. There were no audible voices. Well, you couldn't hear anything that far away, at least. You couldn't stop your mind from concentrating on them, even if you didn't want to. Your head hurt from the mix of the TV's sounds and the rain. Actually, the pain was in your soul.

You waited for regret to surface so you could condemn and despise yourself for opening yourself to Dean, your friend. But despite your best efforts, you were unable to sense remorse. You knew that you would do it again if you had a chance, taking back all that happened. How could you refuse him? You wished to memorize every moment of that night by being able to see every expression on his face. It was ridiculous that something so basic could no longer be made possible. The moments you spent with him are now only vague memories in your mind. All you could recall was the touch—his touch. It was still lingering on your skin. That would be enough.

It was clear to you from the way he laughed with her moments ago that the moment you had spent with him days before meant nothing. It was simply another hookup for Dean. Though you didn't think you'd reveal the truth from your side, you wondered what Sam would say about it. Sam was a good man, but you really weren't supposed to reveal to him that you slept with his brother since it would be too embarrassing. Additionally, you had given your virginity to his brother, whom you referred to as a "friend." There was no way you could tell him this.

You couldn't even recall the name of the show that was on TV. From time to time, Sam cracked up at the jokes. At least one person was feeling good. You looked at him attentively and observed that he had his attention on the show while he ate his popcorn.

He turned to face you, seeing your serious expression as he observed how you were reacting to the joke. In your arms, you held a pillow.

He said, “What's that look?”

“Seems like someone is enjoying, huh?”

“Why not? We all deserve a little relaxation after working so hard as hunters, don't you think?” He remarked, grinning, and turned down the TV. The instant the room was silent, you realized how much the noise had hurt your head. 

“Like your brother?” Compared to what you had anticipated, you sounded more serious. 

“Dean being Dean, you know.” Sam sighed and made a quick statement. Yes, you were aware of it. 

“How is your arm, by the way?” you said with a troubled look on your face. You've been feeling terrible for Sam because he kept you protected throughout the hunt and then ended up hurting himself. He was always considerate and cautious of you and Dean. It was in his nature. 

Sam smiled reassuringly and said, “It's fine. You know, things go wrong, and as long as you save the day, it's alright to get a little bit hurt.”

Stating, “I didn't want to get distracted that easily. I'm not sure what's wrong with me these days, but I promise I'll get better.” The claim that you were acting in this way without knowing why wasn't true. You were certainly aware of the exact cause of your growing distraction. 

If only Sam could read your mind and understand. Otherwise, there was no way for you to tell him straight what happened between you and Dean that night. You had any, yet deep down you needed to talk to someone. But you were very, really embarrassed. It's not like you were teens; you and Dean are grown ups. Reasonable ones, obviously. On the other hand, exposing your situation to him would be the same as declaring your love for him and would reveal your feelings for him.

“Really, Y/N, it's all right. What is done is done.” Sam looked at you, totally shutting off the TV. “Ignore what Dean said. You know how protective he is all the time. If you were the one who was harmed by me, he would say the same things. Though he may have come off as tougher, his intentions were good.”

"I'm afraid that's not true, Sammy. I mean, I know his intentions were good, of course, but I guess I touched his nerves this time for real.”

You attempted a smile, but it did not reach your lips before you realized Sam was trying to soothe you.

Sam replied awkwardly, “He cares way too much about the people he really cares about.” At these meaningless remarks, you both halted for a little period of time. “Well, it wasn't the best way to put it, but you get the idea. You might understand if you were raised by an older brother. He's not a bad person; there are just moments when I don't understand him.” 

“Of course not,” you cut him off right away. “You don't even have to say it. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying anything negative about him. I would never.”

“I know, I know...” Sam spoke quickly. “Still, I'm simply advising you not to think too much about what he said previously, all right? We've been hunting for more than a year; it's not that he doesn't like you. Remember that a year ago, it was he who offered the invitation for you to join that team?”

You ultimately nodded as Sam attempted to convince you that Dean didn't mean to hurt you. 

“Yes,” you murmured to yourself. “Considering how often you two sustain injuries, a nurse would be beneficial. I wonder if Dean was looking for a nurse for himself and his little brother, or if he was looking for someone with hunting abilities.”

“Let's say you're just talented enough to take a part in that very humble team,” Sam laughed. “And you're being a nurse is just another plus.” 

You sighed and then gave him a genuine smile, saying, “Fine, if you say so.” You had finally been somewhat diverted from your thoughts about Dean and his girlfriend by a brief conversation with Sam. 

Curious, you said, “How about you and Ruby, by the way? It seems that you two have become a very good couple, haven't you?”

“We're looking for something…to work out. But it's okay for now,” Sam remarked hesitantly. You found it amusing that he was so forthright about everything else than relationships. 

“You seem to be very much in love.” Not knowing how to present the matter to Dean without taking any suspicion, you offered an innocent glance to Sam. Sam was smart in every other way. Sometimes he observed and gazed at people as though he could see right through them. 

“She's like no one I've ever met,” Sam said timidly. “I think it will take some more time to work it out, but it's fine so far.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“How about you?”

You hesitantly replied, “What?” as he sent you one of his suspicious stares. 

“I've been thinking about lately and come to know... that it has been a year and I didn't even see you with anyone. That seems a little odd, don't you think?” Sam arched an eyebrow. “Are you not seeing anyone, or are you keeping it as a secret or something?”

You shifted on the seat and hugged the pillow against your arms a bit extra to help you unwind. In the end, he knew nothing about Dean or you. There was no reason to be anxious. It was only chitchat. 

“No, of course not!” You stopped him off before he started asking his questions. “It isn't... I'm not interested in anyone right now.”

“Really?” With a look of suspicion, Sam inquired. “We met other men throughout the cases, and they seemed to be interested in you. How can you tell whether you're interested in one of them if you don't give it a shot?”

“Sam, I don't like hookups. Something like that is not what I want.” However, you've turned into Dean's one hookup. The thought briefly ripped through your soul, given how little you've been talking recently, as if there were an unambiguous wall between you that you could not break down no matter how hard you tried.

“That's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to get the point that you should give people a chance to win you over. How in the world would you know if you liked someone or not without that?”

“I don't want to,” you interrupted, concentrating solely on Dean. It would be simpler to get Sam to understand you if you could tell him how you feel about Dean. 

Sam groaned and said, “Fine. It was just an advice.” 

“I know, thanks,” you responded, putting on a timid grin. “Will you continue to watch TV for a while? It's growing late.”

Sam said, “I think I will,” as he looked at his watch. “Are you leaving?” 

You said quietly, “Yeah,” as you peered out the window to see the weather. It was pouring. You would have hated sunny days even more if you had gotten intimate with Dean on a sunny day. Rainy weather used to be something you enjoyed, but now it just hurt.

“I think it's better if you stay though,” Sam said, taking a deep breath and using one of his fingers to show you the pouring rain. “You're not the best driver.”

With a harsh tone, you said, suddenly tossing the pillow over his face. “Did you just insult me?”

“That's not insulting,” Sam shot it back at you. “I'm just saying that you're no Hamilton.”

You said, “You have no idea,” and you couldn't help but smile as you recalled the day Dean forbade you from driving on rainy days after you nearly had an accident. Dean continued to get anxious when it started to rain while you were driving because of that day. His Baby was more important than anything. 

“Will you be watching TV or?” Taking back the remote control, Sam asked. 

“No, thanks; enjoy yourself.” Setting the pillow down next to the coach and stretching your arms, you yawned. 

You couldn't help but notice the agonizing heavy feeling in your chest as it began to flare up again like tiny needles as you made your way upstairs. Even though you didn't want to hear anything, you were listening for any sounds coming from Dean's room. As you passed, your movements almost seemed to slow down, but you quickly realized what was going on, and you entered the dark room where you would be spending the night, as if your brain didn't want to hear anything.

You had been repeatedly asked to leave the same house by Dean and Sam and start to live with them, but for whatever reason you were unaware of, you had refused. If they repeated the offer, you would most likely take it immediately. God, even if you just lived in the same house, you would probably fall even more in love with Dean. During hunts, it was even sufficient to see him for a few hours. Your heart ached to think about his face, his grin, and every joke he ever told.

Has the night some weeks ago caused you to ruin what you had? You didn't feel any regret, but as you noticed that Dean was becoming more aloof, regret started to consume you.

You'd just gotten out of the shower when your hands found one of Dean's t-shirts. You desired to wear it like you had some weeks prior. Back then, it wasn't a big deal; instead of complaining, he would just make jokes about how little and amusing you looked in them. But things were different today, and you knew it wouldn't be proper to wear it while he had a girlfriend.

If he truly had affections for someone, you didn't want to spoil things for him.

They laughed a little too loudly as you lay down on the bed and pressed his t-shirt against your chest as if it would bring him further closer. Dean's laughter mixed with Jo's. You tried, devastated, to focus on the soothing sounds of the falling rain and on the absurd or hazardous situations that had transpired during the hunts. It was useless. 

That was the moment you became aware of how really alone you were. Perhaps Sam was correct about telling you to pursue a romantic connection. However, how could it be possible when you were already deeply in love with someone? Anytime Dean was around, your heart felt like it was going to explode. You had no idea how to handle things like that. 

You set his shirt down and let it fall to the ground, acting as if doing so could shield you from the overwhelming feelings that Dean had given you. God, how could you possibly let go of your feelings for him when you couldn't even let go of a single piece of fabric with ease? 

You were so miserable and pathetic that you were unable to stop crying this time. You dreamed of something you could never have as the tears flowed down your cheeks and onto the bed. You will always cherish the beautiful memory the night gave you, but at what cost?

You were sobbing, but you weren't sure if it was from the noises Dean and Jo were making or from the dreams that could only have come true in your head. 

Your impulse to pick up Dean's t-shirt from the floor gradually vanished as your tears dropped to the bed and the pain consumed your entire being. Until today, you had no idea how much you actually loved him. 

“What happened?” With a big smile on her face, Jo placed her fingers around Dean's face and inquired in between laughter. She teased this thick neck with a quick, playful kiss. On his lap, she became still. 

Dean's fingers raised her skirt and were ready to push her underwear aside. Jo continued moving on Dean's lap, making herself wetter by rubbing herself over Dean's boxer, her hands lingering on his wide and bare chest with desire. 

“Nothing,” a rough-voiced Dean said. From the room where you were staying, he thought he heard something. He had heard you took the upstairs before he'd gone to the bathroom. You most likely made the decision to stay since it was pouring rain outside. You definitely didn't know how to drive in such conditions. He shuddered, remembering when you nearly crushed his baby and sent it to his sweet vehicle burial. 

Jo touched Dean's naked chest and paused her palm at his abs, saying, “You seem to be like thinking something else.”

“I wasn't,” Dean lied. It was not significant at all, so there was no need to provide details.

“I was just thinking though,” Jo said, attempting to find the right words to say. 

“About?”

“I think we'd be a great team, you know.” With a sly smile, Jo continued to stroke Dean's abs with the tips of her fingers. “As you are aware, Sam, you, and I would make an excellent team since we are now somewhat of a family, since I am also a hunter. Do you not think?”

Dean moved slightly on the bed, thinking of you, irritated at Jo's disregard for you, as if the details weren't even important. You were a member of the team. He was the one who initially made the offer to you in fact. Besides, they weren't even paired up. He said nothing about it so as not to hurt her feelings or make her feel humiliated if she brought it up. 

“How about Y/N?” In an attempt to lighten the mood and soften the air, Dean attempted to smile at her, but his smile did not reach his lips.

“She's a nurse,” Jo said, as if it were an insult. Dean felt uncomfortable and uneasy because Jo was attempting to push out the details of what she truly wanted to say about you. Despite her best efforts to seem polite, she came out as cunning and bitter. That was something Dean did not appreciate. 

“So?” Dean arched an eyebrow in questioning. “She is the only one still alive due to the terrible things that went wrong; her family was full of hunters just like ours. She doesn't even need to, yet she still has passion. That's very encouraging, in my opinion. I mean, continuing to work in the family business while also doing her professional job responsibilities. That requires guts.”

“Are you defending her?”

“I am,” Dean said in a firm and harsh manner. Jo was still on top of him, trying to get him to say nasty things about you, and he didn't enjoy her attempts at distracting him with handiwork. Dean felt unease and a strong sense of aggressiveness.

He never explicitly expressed his admiration for you for persevering through everything and for having the guts to face your fears. Jo recognized how much he genuinely admired you in his heart when he explained how excellent you were at what you did. Even though you occasionally were easily sidetracked, you were a professional.

Jo sighed, but she didn't give a damn about Dean's opinion of you. In the end, you posed no threat. For nothing at all. 

“I don't think your dad raised you and Sam for doing some charity to the orphan hunters and helping them to find a belonging,” Jo said. Although she made an effort not to seem cruel, it was the reality for her. “I am aware of the danger she took for Sam when you all were hunting last time. It is a weakness to be easily sidetracked in this.”

Dean's eyes grew enraged as Jo carried on speaking in a sinuous manner. She was aware of his dislike of others discussing the persons they cared about in this way. Particularly about the people he respected and gave enough thought to. 

Dean whispered, “Jo,” but it seemed more like he was threatening her. “Stop this fucking nonsense now. I'm serious.” 

“Do you have a soft spot for her or something?” Jo inquired once again. She also bit her lips invitingly while gently raising her skirt to reveal her pussy to Dean's gaze in an attempt to divert his focus elsewhere.

Her eyes were full of promise. In particular, Dean found it amusing when ladies looked at him with such passion. 

Dean immediately felt a sense of relaxation as his hands moved to her hips. He sighed and refused to answer. “Are we just going to talk?” he asked. She began removing her clothes rapidly while he licked his lips and observed. 

“Hopefully not,” Jo laughed in response. She was relieved that she and Dean had stopped talking about you. “Let our bodies talk in their very own, divine language.”

Dean switched the positions before she could say anything more. Now that he was on top of Jo, he was urgently kissing her while his mind was racing with ideas he wanted to put down for the night. 

Dean roughly spread Jo's legs wider and pulled her underwear aside, freeing himself from his boxer. With a single forceful shove that caused them both to moan loudly, he gave his firm cock a few strokes and pushed himself in Jo beforehand. That was an excellent way to get some real comfort now. 

Jo hadn't kept it low at all, so Dean put his hands on her mouth to silence her, causing her to sigh into his hands without intending to wake anyone. He picked up his speed and began to push into her rough and fast enough to satisfy both of them, knowing that she enjoyed being fucked raw and fast and that Dean also wanted to find his release. 

While he continued to fuck her, Dean warned her to "keep it low," suppressing his own groans.

She was, however, loudly groaning in Dean's hands, locking her legs around his hips, matching his speed as she raised her hips, as if she wanted everyone to know that she was getting fucked by Dean. Dean warned her to turn down the volume once more, but it didn't help.

In an attempt to find his release, Dean thrust into her more quickly, giving the impression that he was being forced to come—as if this were a mission or one of his hunts. He was striving to find his pleasure when he felt nervousness take over his body. He wasn't accustomed to feeling this way, especially around women.

His other hand tightened on Jo's tits, and he ran his fingers through her ass to help himself. His movements were forceful and impatient. All he wanted was for her to be somewhat silent so that he could focus more easily. It wasn't like Dean liked to be all crazy harsh on ladies or anything; he just needed to experience the closeness of a true, sincere touch, which was difficult to find at the moment.

He was on the verge of getting there, but he was unable to seize the ideal moment of pleasure and find relief.

Though it wasn't appropriate to think about it right now, Dean's thoughts began to form around the moment he and you had shared weeks earlier as he continued to stroke his hardness into Jo's warm pussy while muttering under his breath. It was as though his body had a mind of its own and knew when it was best for him to get what he was looking for.

His thoughts were hopelessly consumed by the sensation of your tightness and those moments of adorable small sounds that you attempted to hide from him. Dean attempted to concentrate on the woman who he was actually fucking into, not feeling proud of how he thought about you while he fucked Jo into the covers. Thinking about how he fucked you wasn't fair to no one at all. But his own body, which was attempting to steal what it desired by using Jo's body, was not under his control.

Him fucking Jo was becoming a battle between Dean's body and mind. Pleasure and reason; soul and mind.

Jo began to quiver instead of groan loudly, and as Dean withdrew his fingers from her lips, she cried out, “Will you come inside?” 

Dean instantly said, “No,” realizing that he hadn't been wearing a condom throughout his frantic sex with her. “Stay still.”

With a hint of rage, Dean sank his fingers into Jo's flesh and his head into her sweating neck, fiercely shutting his eyes. He was going insane as he struggled with his own thoughts, which were attempting to recall every little detail about your body and how you responded and tightened around his member. He didn't want to go back in time mentally and get pleasure thinking about the night with you while he was inside someone else. It wasn't fair for any. 

It was just an impulse decision made in the heat of the moment. Still, Dean's mind continued seeing the body underneath him to be yours, making him picture every single detail of how he took you and how you immediately clenched around him the moment he entered you. He was taken aback by how tight you were; you were like anyone he had ever fucked. 

As the fantasies overtook his thoughts, Dean became aware of his surroundings as Jo began to speak dirty to him, telling him how much she enjoyed it when he gave her such an aggressive fuck. Dean wasn't aware of himself till now that he started to fuck into her pussy quicker and harder.

Dean's body tensed as his eyes opened. He was pushing his cock in and out of Jo without intending to get off as he thought about you. He was a little caught by what had transpired in a split second. 

Jo gasped and said, “Why did you stop?” To regain his attention, she raised her hips higher. 

“Nothing,” Dean said, losing his temper and collapsing to his side as he felt his cock gradually soften. 

Jo was bewildered, but she became enraged when Dean abruptly quit fucking her and left her feeling unsatisfied. 

She sighed and said, “You want me to get on top?” although she sounded more like she was frustrated. 

“No.”

“What the hell is your problem?” she said, nailing Dean's chest. “Come on-”

“I said, 'no.' Alright?” In an attempt to disassociate himself from Jo, Dean stated. Even though he knew it was just about him, he tried to keep his cool down despite feeling like rage was taking him.

When she realized Dean wasn't in the mood and was most likely experiencing some sort of dysfunctional erection, she simply remarked, “Anyways,” without caring about it at all. “I promised to go out with some friends tonight, you know,” she said, putting on her clothes again.

“Alright. It's pouring outside though.”

“Yeah, and?”

With a sigh, Dean said, “Nevermind,” understanding that you were the only on who found driving in such weather difficult.

Dean quickly showered right after Jo departed the house, then jerked off just after he entered the bathroom. Even if things started to seem strange with Jo, his body still wanted some release to ease the tension. He was horny and furious at the same time. Though he was a man of action and he wasn't the biggest fan of taking himself in hand in the shower like a teenager, it worked this time. It felt good enough.

Dean gasped in frustration, picturing your gentle touches and the way he felt within you while he fucked Jo and how he thought about you while. The easiest way for him to regain control of his body was to stop. That was all—him and you were simply pals who took pleasure from each other for one night. You were lovely, so it wasn't that he wouldn't want to fuck you again, but it would just be weird. That was not Dean's type of thing. 

With one arm folded behind his head, Dean lay on the bed and tried not to think too much. Perhaps he was simply too exhausted.

Even though you were exhausted, your body woke up in the middle of the night due to a headache and a dry throat. You walked silently downstairs to the kitchen so as not to wake Sam, Dean, or his girlfriend. 

You cursed yourself for being so emotional and sensitive, crying your eyes out till you went to sleep. Perhaps you were about to have your monthly period very soon. You were forced to put on your headphones by Dean and his companion in order to block out the noises they created all night.

What a waste, you thought. Believing that once you committed yourself to Dean, things would improve between you two. The situation became worse because of it. There was now such a strong and lengthy barrier between you that, despite your best attempts to remain composed, you were unable to climb it at all without being exhausted. If you were more courageous than this, you would have let everything pass by, turned your back to the team, and concentrated on your actual work. 

After turning on the light and rubbing your swollen eyes, you sipped your water and sat down next to the window. You couldn't even get enough sleep, and you had to work all day. You required a long vacation. 

As soon as you placed the glass down on the kitchen sink, you turned around and saw Dean staring back at you. He was half nude, wearing just sweatpants; his broad chest was all naked. You jumped and gasped in fear because you didn't hear him approaching. 

Dean seemed a little confused for a moment when he saw your ruined hair and swollen eyes, but he said nothing. 

He stated, “You're so jumpy,” in a low voice as if another person may hear them. 

You paused in front of Dean and said, "I didn't hear you coming," but all you did was stand there and remain still, your heart racing. 

Ignoring him and returning to your room was difficult. Though your soul ached and yearned for more time with him, your mind knew that nothing would happen between you.

“Why are you still awake?”

You suddenly snapped, “Why are you questioning me?” but then you added, “I was thirsty.”

He said, “It makes us two,” and grabbed a glass of water for himself.

Can't help but notice how you looked, he remarked, “Your eyes appear somewhat swollen.” He couldn't help making a comment this time, a sense of concern overwhelming him.

Trying to sound convincing enough, you said in a hushed voice, “I just woke up. Couldn’t sleep properly.”

“You're going to work tomorrow, aren't you?” Dean inquired as if attempting to strike up a conversation after such a lengthy period. You haven't been speaking properly recently for the obvious reason. 

You answered, “Um, yeah,” and lightly stroked your hand to see whether it hurt. It no longer did. Thank goodness you weren't seriously injured. You've also taken plenty of time off from work. It would be best if you started working right away to take your mind off of Dean and all that was going on. There was a lot to take in. 

“But can you work though? Is your hand okay, by the way?”

“Yes, I suppose there's nothing to worry about. It's stopped hurting. Actually, I missed my job. It's been too long since I took a break.”

You took a deep breath and went to head back to your room, saying a quiet, "Good night," but Dean stopped you by grasping your arm after he finished his drink. “Wait,” he quietly whispered. 

He released his hold on you and gently caressed your skin in an attempt to apologize for being a little too harsh on you. You turned to face him, perplexed. “Yes?” you said as you awaited his next words. 

He seemed unable to find the right words to say, so he said, “Whatever happened during the hunting... It wasn't just your fault.” The moment he brought that case back, your heart pounded. 

You took a deep breath to keep yourself from being upset as you thought back to what he had said to you, his hurtful remarks, and how annoyed Dean was as a result of your distraction. 

You managed to stutter, “It's okay,” and try to smile sympathetically at him. “You are right in every way. I should have exercised more caution. After all, he's your brother.”

“No, I'm not right about everything.” Dean took a deep breath and held your still-healing hand. “I was responsible as much as you were. After all, I am the team's oldest member.” He attempted to lighten the situation with a smile, but for some reason neither of you felt like it. 

Dead had told you, just to your face, that Sam was extremely important to him, as if you had someone in your life to worry about. He hated himself for not being more compassionate after realizing he was simply being harsh.

“It was just... in the heat of the moment,” Dean made an effort to explain his behavior. But the way your eyes met, it seemed like he meant something very different.

“I know."

“I only wanted you to be more cautious; I didn't want to hurt you.” He looked into your reddened eyes and added, “Not just for me or Sam, but especially for your own good,” with such genuineness that it seemed he could see what a wreck you were on the inside. How messy you were.

“You did not hurt me at all. I will proceed with greater caution, as I had said previously.” You let his hands lightly brush across yours. Your heart had melted at such a simple, one-time gesture. Though you knew you couldn't, your body was aching to get closer to him. 

He finally released your hand after a little while. However, if he hadn't taken it in the first place, it would have hurt less. 

You hoped with all of your heart that this moment in the kitchen with Dean had gone differently. You wanted to be closer, cuddling, laughing, or doing anything else that would be tender and intimate. But you two were farther apart than before. Your eyes would have said everything about how much you wanted him if they could communicate.

“I honestly didn't intend any of the things I said to you before or later. I want you to understand this.”

“I do, Dean.”

Dean said, “I know things are a little awkward between us, but I don't want it to be like this,” before you could say anything more. “I hope that you continue to feel at ease with me. I suppose we haven't discussed it appropriately so far about this.”

Your cheeks suddenly flushed scarlet at the mention of your circumstance, and fear shot through your veins “It's really okay,” you nodded to him and replied in a hurry. “Everything's alright.” 

You felt burdened with the thought that he could be concerned that you might tell Jo. Should that be his worry, you might reassure and soothe him. In a whisper, you said, “I wouldn't...tell Jo.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, then scowled instead. His expression showed signs of uncertainty. Given how often they had been hooking up only, he wasn't really sure if he and Jo were a thing at all. 

He felt a little guilty as well as responsible for initiating the kiss that night since he was aware it was him. 

“You know, I don't want you to feel awkward. Don't let anything go to waste or let this ruin what we have.”

Your heart raced with hopelessness again as Dean blatantly said that he wanted nothing to change and that you should move on from the past. At this point, you couldn't tell if he was genuinely unaware of your emotions. It was better if he hadn't even opened his mouth in the first place and stayed silent. 

Since you believed you were trying your best to keep things calm between you and him and maintain whatever relationship you had with him, you wanted to ask him if there was anything you could have done to make him feel that way about you or did you make him feel uncomfortable around you. It wasn't like you were still holding out hope. You were not anticipating this any longer.

Despite his repeated promises not to hurt you, he continued to do so without even realizing it.

You nodded to him quickly and answered, “Of course, I don't want this either,” with a heavy heart. “I would not want to ruin.”

You gave him a little smile and a mumble of "good night," then turned back toward your room. You would have found the strength to cry a little bit more if your eyes weren't sore from crying so much hours before. But at that moment, all you wanted to do was sleep, without really considering anything.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆

A/N: Please, let me know what you think about this one. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ^^

Taglist: @procrastination20 @faiirynyaa @deangirl96 @steelthespooder @t1asstuff @slut-for-evans-stan @esposamultifandom @rebecca-hvnstn @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @filmologetica @n-o-p-e-never

@midnightpearlaurora @mango-munchies @zaratahir @sammyxorae @opheliadynah @spxideyver

[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

part 3 | part 4

"SOMEONE got flowers," Yelena teased the moment you set foot inside your office.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, brows only knitted in confusion.

When Yelena finally let you through, your eyes quickly caught sight of a bouquet of daisies on top of your desk. It came with a note that says 'Have a lovely day!' , and even if it had no name who it was from, you immediately knew it was from Wanda. She was the only one who knew you liked daisies anyway. And she now owned her own flower shop.

Anger and shame only filled you as you hastily threw the bouquet of flowers into the bin next to your desk, making Yelena gasp in horror.

Kate laughed. "That's the fourth bouquet she threw this week."

Yelena then grabbed the flowers and shook the dust off gently with her hands. "It's such a waste. Do you know how expensive flowers are these days? I'm gonna take this if you don't want it. This could be useful—"

"Why? You planning to reuse them?" Kate intervened with a nervous laugh, leaving her desk as she approached the blonde woman. In the untrained eye, it looked like she was only joking. But you knew there was a hint of jealousy in her words.

"What's in it for you?" Yelena replied, stepping back from Kate, hiding the bouquet behind her back.

"Nothing, nothing, of course," Kate nonchalantly answered. "So . . . you asking anyone for a date?"

Yelena sighed. "That's none of your business."

And as you listened to your friends banter on, your thoughts swam back to one specific brunette. One that had always occupied your mind these days.

You hadn't seen the woman since that very night. The very next day, while Wanda was still deep in slumber, sleeping peacefully like an angel in disguise, you silently crawled out of bed and left her in your apartment.

You didn't dare come back for two days, seeking for Kate's help as you took residence in her guest bedroom for the meantime.

Wanda sent a couple of messages asking where you were, and it only stopped when you blocked her. You hated yourself for feeling this way, for still feeling like a lost schoolgirl completely head over heels with the professor. You were weak. You were stupid.

Kate assured you that you were only human, it was natural to respond to natural urges, especially that it had been a long time since you'd had sex.

But you knew better.

If it was really a physical urge, and not Wanda herself, you needed confirmation.

MIRACULOUSLY the day after, the confirmation was in the form of your neighbor barista, Christine.

Christine had been writing her number a couple of times on the cup of the coffee you'd order everyday, next to your name that came with a cute heart drawing. But you hadn't entertain one single thought of finally asking her out.

You knew it was petty. Cruel. Selfish. You knew it would only hurt one of you, especially innocent Christine. As the saying would go, you shouldn't mess with the person who handles your food.

But on that weekend, you found yourself walking with Christine as you wander the streets of New York, finding strange street foods to try and fun carnival games to play. It would be wrong of you to admit you didn't enjoy any second spent with the girl.

Christine was nice. She was friendly, talkative and sweet, she even brought you your cup of coffee when she met you after work. You found out that she was also taking a couple of classes in the same university you worked at, wanting to become a lawyer one day.

And maybe Kate was right. If you only allowed yourself to be happy, just for one time, you'd be happy. And you thought life was finally merciful towards you.

Until you both bumped into Wanda and her twins as you and Christine headed towards the park. The twins were carrying bags of stuff from the nearby night market, while Wanda was holding two sticks of corn dog, probably she bought for her boys, and a cone of ice cream in the other.

And it was as if life had gone back on being cruel to you. Because all you could think about that moment was how Wanda looked both so beautiful and cute wearing a beanie around her head and a coat larger than her body as she licked her ice cream, trying to keep it from melting.

It tugged a string in your heart. And it hurt.

"Y/n!" Tommy said enthusiastically. "We didn't expect to see you here."

And if Wanda's glares sent your way were only daggers, you'd both be killed.

"Tommy," you replied. "Nice to see you without a cast. How's your arm?"

"Never better," he answered, as he swung his arm full of bags, pretending he was hitting a home run.

Billy added, chuckling, "He's always whining about it though, because it was itchy—"

"Shut up! I was not!"

You both laughed until you felt Christine hold your hand.

"Oh sorry, how stupid of me," you said. "Christine, these are Tommy, Billy and their mother, Miss Maximoff." You met Wanda's eyes quickly. "I used to babysit them when they were just kids. Guys, this is Christine, my . . . "

"Girlfriend," Christine confirmed, offering her hand towards them. And you froze, not really expecting her to say that. It was Wanda who reacted badly as she shook the offered hand of Christine's rather hurriedly and harshly.

"Hi," Tommy said, shaking Christine's hand last.

"How recent?" Wanda asked coldly.

"Come again?" Christine asked, giggling. "Sorry, it's just too loud here."

"Nothing," Wanda said, forcing a weak laugh. "It's just that Y/n is quite picky to date anyone. You're a lucky one, I guess."

"I'm sure she has no problem finding one, Ma'am," Christine replied with a challenging tone, making your lip tug upward. Her arm snaked around your waist as she pulled you closer towards her. "I've been trying to ask out this cutie here since the first time she bought coffee from our shop. Now, she took the bold move to finally send me a message."

"Is that so?" Wanda chuckled tauntingly, licking the melted drop of ice cream dripping down her fingers. The action made you grit your teeth. "Intriguing."

The conversation changed when Billy announced there would be an acoustic set playing that night near the park, inviting you both to watch it with them. But you respectfully declined, saying you didn't want to bother, your eyes never leaving Wanda and hers at yours, provoking you more.

AFTER you and Christine left them, Christine immediately apologized. "I'm so, so sorry, Y/n. Gosh, you might think I'm so forward—"

"For what?"

"For saying I'm your girlfriend. I know I'm not and we just dated." She sighed. "It's her, isn't she?"

You swallowed a lump in your throat as she went on. "I remember her face, she was the one who was looking for you I believe months ago. And you were so cold and frozen earlier when I touched you, thinking you were uncomfortable and all, so I panicked and decided to help. I don't know if that really helped anything. Gosh, I'm rambling—"

"Christine," you said, stopping her as you smiled. "It's fine. I'm not mad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm actually grateful. Thank you for saving me from that awkward interaction."

You went on walking in silence, her arm looped in yours. The night was still young but you already wanted it to be over. Not because of Christine. But because Wanda had already spoiled the wonderful night. And you hated yourself for letting her affect you like that.

Seeing your dilemma, Christine tried to lighten the mood. "Would it be bad of me to assume you dated the milf?"

You both exploded into laughter before you began to talk about it. And Christine was very understanding. She realized then that the persistent way of her trying to ask you out made her realize that it was just a silly crush. And when she got to know you, it would be terrible to start a relationship with someone who was still not over her ex. And you completely understood her.

It was a mutual decision that you and Christine remained to be good friends and nothing more.

It was a happy night well spent with a newfound friend as you both met up with Kate and Yelena afterwards, who were apparently on a date that night. At least, it made you forget about a certain brunette.

WHEN you came back to your apartment some time later, there Wanda was sitting on the floor just outside your apartment door. She looked weary and tired, hugging her legs as she buried her head in her knees. When she heard footsteps, she immediately lifted her head to look. She quickly stood when she saw it was you who arrived and you could tell from her eyes that she was just crying.

"What are you doing here?" you asked calmly. You were tired to argue with the woman.

"Where's Christine?" Wanda asked, looking behind you.

"I gave her a ride home," you answered, picking your keys from your pocket.

Wanda nodded. "I thought . . . I thought she'd be staying here tonight—"

"And you see it best to wait here just to check?"

There was a small pause. And you knew you were cruel. But you wanted to hurt Wanda because she hurt you so much.

Wanda wiped the tears from her face as she quickly apologized and walked past you, heading to the elevator.

But maybe it was the haze from that night that made you wrap your hand around her wrist, stopping her from leaving. Maybe it was the bottle of beer you had earlier that made you kiss the old woman with fervor, pressing her against the nearby wall.

And maybe, it was the terrifying thought that you're not into Wanda anymore that made the brunette kiss you back with desperation and need, clutching your jacket so tight, claiming you as hers and only hers.

You both managed to enter your apartment with difficulty as you two began to devour each other, hitting vases and lamps along the way as you pulled her inside while taking each other's clothes off.

But maybe it was lust that made you settle on the couch as you both stumbled upon it, not wasting another second to head towards the bedroom, that made you crave for the woman straddled on top of you.

Wanda took off her brassiere then went to cup your face for another kiss. You stopped her, holding both of her wrists. Your eyes were on her breasts, her perky hard nipples.

Maybe it really was thirst that made you stare hungrily at her, how she still looked so perfect even at her age, that made your hands slide across her hips through her stomach just to cup her breasts and squeeze them.

The brunette let out a gasp on the harsh way you held her, but as she wrapped her hands around your wrists, you yanked her hands away, keeping them behind her back.

You leaned forward to suck one of her waiting nipples, closing your eyes as you savored the moment.

"Fuck, Y/n," Wanda moaned, squirming before you, helpless.

Your hand held unto her while the other slipped down to her back, inside her underwear as you played with her warm slick entrance. And it was so cruel to feel her dripping like this and you had barely touched her.

Wanda whined and shook her body, making you finally take mercy and let her go. Her hands automatically clasped unto the back of the couch as you went to devour her other nipple with same intensity, and three of your fingers finally slipping into her hole, fucking her slowly and torturously.

"Oh, god!" Maybe it really was the way Wanda sound that night that made you so aroused. You fastened your pace, making her grind her hips to meet your thrust.

Disconnecting your mouth, you leaned back to stare up at her and watch her ride your hand desperately. Hugging her waist to pull her closer to you, breasts pressing against your chin, you deepened your thrust.

"Y/n . . . Y/n, I'm—" And she sobbed a moan, her body trembling in waves as she came, her warm hole clenching around your fingers you thought they might break.

You helped her through her high, watching the angelic look on her when she comes undone before you.

Maybe Kate was wrong after all. It wasn't just any physical urge. Maybe you were still in love with Wanda. And no one could compare to her.

Maybe it was that thought that made you give up as you let Wanda kiss you fiercely, let her kneel before you as she took off your pants and underwear and let her worship you with her mouth.

THE NEXT morning was the worst as you slowly creeped off the bed, careful as to not wake the woman. But to no luck.

"Am I just a good fuck to you every now and then?" Wanda's weak sleepy voice brought a tear in your heart.

You went on dressing yourself, deciding whether to interrupt Kate and Yelena just to find a place to stay.

Hearing rustling of sheets, you turned to look at Wanda as she moved towards you wrapped only in your blanket. And she looked so helpless, that you want to take her back right that instant, to hug her and say how sorry you were for making her cry.

But you knew you couldn't. She almost killed you. It wasn't fair.

It brought tears in your eyes and you hoped she didn't notice them. "Y/n—"

"What do you want, Wanda?" you answered bitterly, almost yelling. "Do you want to cuddle under the sheets? You want a relationship? Well, you should have thought about that when you crushed my heart years ago!"

You fought back another angry remark from your throat as her eyes began to glisten with tears. "I'm so sorry."

You exhaled a frustated sigh, hand on the door. "Then I also apologize that this is all I can give to you. That you can't always get what you want."

You finally stepped outside, leaving the poor woman alone.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link.

Thank you so much ❤🥰

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

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Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

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taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[redbird-tf]

Harmony

Sam winchester x younger sister x dean winchester

(More sam focused)

Summary: the brothers still had lots to learn about their sister, like the weight of her favorite harmony

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: the harmony i think of for reference

Warnings: angst, mention of death, violence

To say it had been a tough day would be an understatement it had been a tough few months. You were having a hard time adjusting to finding out you had two brothers, Sam was struggling to step into the big brother role, and Dean seemed to be doing the best out of the three. Of course, Dean was shocked, but he had been a big brother for years. The only thing Dean struggled with was the guilt and anger that you had been in this life alone for years.Hunting together was also proving to be a challenge. Dean and Sam had teamed up for years, but your independent nature often clashed with their established rhythm, making hunts more difficult. It would take time before you could truly function as a team.

If the boys had learned anything about you it was that harmony you were always humming. It wasn’t from any song the boys recognized, but it was the same every time you hummed it. Sometimes they’d hear it even when you weren’t around, because of how ingrained it was in their mind. Right now it was serving as the source of Sam’s annoyance. “Y/n i can't focus with your humming” Sam snapped from the passenger seat. You were lying in the back half asleep and hadn't even noticed you were humming. You let out a huff, abruptly grumbling out a half-hearted “sorry” which seemed to irritate Sam more as he slammed his book shut. “You know what? I've had it up to here with you.” He exclaimed turning to face you. “What did i do!?” You shouted back sitting straight up. “UH, the bruise on my face!” He mocked pointing at his black eye. “Thats not my fault!” You rebuttal, furrowing your brows “It wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed the plan” he countered “Your plan didn't work!”

“Alright, enough!” Dean’s booming voice made you both fall silent. “We all messed up, alright? Now knock it off.” He stated firmly. The car stayed silent, but he could see you two exchanging glares from the corner of his eye “Stop looking at each other” Dean commanded, and in sync, you both slouched back with your arms crossed. “Why do I always gotta be the frick’n mom” dean mumbled under his breath.

———————

“This it, Sammy?” Dean questioned pulling over. Sam looked down at his map “Route 46, the last spotting of a vampire was here” Sam stated stepping out of the car. “Got the dead man's blood?” Dean asked watching Sam sling the bag over his shoulder. Sam nodded leading the way into the woods. “I've never seen a vampire before” you whispered to Dean to prevent Sam from hearing you. “Well their not easy…” Dean paused seeing the flicker of worry in your eyes “Dead man's blood is about the only thing that will kill them, and they come in packs…but so do we” he explained trying to ease your obvious concern of messing up.

“Over here” Sam gestured for you to catch up. “Thats it?” You asked quietly, eyeing the old barn “There's only three in there” Sam said lowering his binoculars. You watched as they prepared their knives by dowsing them in blood, “be careful with that,” Dean stated handing you a dagger. You all crept to the back of the barn and snuck in through a cracked window. You dropped in a bit louder than intended, prompting Sam to shush you, annoyance flashing across your face. Tiptoeing over to the sleeping vampires. You loomed over them, waiting for Dean’s signal and when you got it, you pushed your danger hard into the vamp. He scratched hard into your arm but you held firm, only pulling away when you were sure he was down for good. You turned to your brothers “That was easier than expected”

You quickly realized you had spoken too soon as your body slammed violently intk the ground and your vision became a red blur. A burning sensation spread across your face and loud noises overwhelmed you, causing you to scream out for your brothers “i can't see! I can't see anything!” You cried in pure terror. The last thing you heard was sams voice drawing near before everything went black.

——————-

“It's been over three hours Dean” Sam's voice wavered while he paced back and forth. “She’ll be fine” Dean reassured him, adjusting the bandage covering your eyes before leaning back in the chair at your bedside. “What if she hit her head too hard?” Sam stuttered out. “She's fine,” Dean said sternly, though part of him was trying to convince himself. “We should take her to the hospital,” Sam insisted, balling his fist. “And say what, Sam? My sister got scratched across the face by a vamp” Dean explained the harsh truth. Sam sighed looking down at you, his lip quivering. “I'm gonna grab a beer,” Dean said, rising from the chair knowing he held it together much longer.

Once Dean had left, Sam knelt by your side and took your hand in his. Guilt gnawed him, knowing the last thing he did was yell at you for something as simple as humming. What's worse is that he knew you hummed to comfort yourself. A detail he had picked up on over the months. He’d watched you hum yourself to sleep, after hunts, or when the world felt overwhelming. Sam bit his lip feeling his eyes begin to gloss over. How could he have been so cruel? How could he call himself a big brother?

He closed his eyes and began to hum the familiar harmony, seeking his own solace within it. “Mom?” Your voice rang, barely louder than a whisper. Sams's head shot up “Y/n” he breathed out. His body flooded with Relief. “Sam?” You became confused as you abruptly sat up. “Woah, easy there,” Sam said placing his hands on your shoulder to steady you. “I-I can't see” stammered, panic creeping back in. “I know. You got hurt and we had to stitch you up. I can remove the bandage if you want” he explained gently in an attempt to soothe you. You nodded and Sam began to slowly unravel the bandages. You looked around and saw the bunker walls surrounding you, your eyes beginning to uncontrollably water. As the fabric fell away, you took in the bunker walls surrounding you.

Your figures brushed over the stitches on your face, tears beginning to well in your eyes. Your reaction was making Sam nervous “We did the best we could, it shouldn’t scar too bad” he tried to reassure you, but You stayed silent, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I thought i died, i thought..” you paused, “i thought you were my mom” you muttered. Despite the circumstances, a small laugh escaped Sam's lips “Why would you think that?” He asked with a slight smirk. “You were humming her melody” you stated blankly. Sams's smile dropped, and the guilt he didn’t know could grow any larger, grew “y/n, I'm sorry…i didn't know” he apologized, moving to sit next to you. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t muster the strength to look him in the eye.

“She's awake?” A voice shattered the tension as Dean rushed to your side, unintentionally pushing Sam aside. He embraced you tightly “you gave us a scare there, kid” he breathed out with a chuckle. You mumbled a sorry into his shoulder before pulling away to meet sams gaze. The eye contact took him by surprise and it took him a moment to gather his words “y/n, I'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve that.” He watched as your gaze softened, but continued to press on“And…i won't hum that again, i didn't know” he explained lowering his head. You shook your head “No Sam, it's ok. You do it perfectly and…” he gazed up at you again, seeing a smile tug at your lips “It's comforting” Your tender tone washed away the heaviness in his chest. Sam mouthed a thank you, taking your hand in his as his thumb glided over your knuckles.

“Did i miss something?” Dean questioned glancing between you and sam, a hint of frustration that made you both laugh. “No no…i just” Sam stopped, taking a moment to appreciate the happy version of you that had replaced the distressed one he’d seen just moments before. “I'm just learning what it means to be a big brother” Sam expressed with a wide smile. Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, then you can watch her while i get some shut-eye” he said, giving Sam’s shoulder a light pat. Sam tried to rebuttal, but Dean cut him off “you wanted to be the big brother, welcome to the job,” Dean teased. He shook his head until he felt you lean into him. He glanced over seeing how you relaxed against him. This is the brother he wanted to be.

[meldingintheunderdark]

I wish the ultimatum was implemented and not limited to the Rite of Thorns and its other conditions.

Whenever the ultimatum is mentioned, especially on reddit or youtube, it's always about Minthara, rational and diplomatic, whereas Halsin is aggressive and cruel. Pure logic versus messy emotions. Some opinions are also based on Halsin supposedly being a raging drow racist (no).

Why would Halsin not be emotional though? It's about the horrible loss of the refugees, his druids, his animals and his Grove. It's about being a prisoner at the mercy of Minthara and the goblins. Who wouldn't be furious? Even without the Rite of Thorns, Halsin's anger would be warranted. Minthara shows no remorse whatsoever because, in her opinion, the Absolute forced her hand. Moreover, Minthara is also very emotional when she points out what Lolth and the Absolute cult did to her. They're simply expressing their emotions differently.

I'm persuaded some opinions I've read are undoubtedly skewed by the idea that logic is more valid than emotions. This archaic belief is still used to this day to silence the voices of marginalized groups, to disregard their righteous anger. Minthara, who appears calm and factual, seemingly has the upper hand over Halsin, who's emotional and stating his boundaries without compromise. If Minthara was the one outwardly emotional, I bet players would tend to think she's hysterical. Because she adopts an overvalued attitude too often demanded to make any dissident voice palatable, in control of her feelings and body language, she's right. And the big man mentioning his trauma, clearly emotional? He has no argument whatsoever. He's aggressive, he's unforgiving, so he's OOC. Are we talking about the same character? Halsin, who has just lost everything and everyone? Halsin, who's still not without sympathy? Halsin, who loathes to put the ultimatum to the PC? Halsin, who still thanks the PC and hopes to be proven wrong if he has to leave? Halsin is forgiving, but he isn't a forgiving idiot. Minthara is still a sadist. She isn't sorry. She hasn't changed. Why would he forgive her? Hence his "a viper cannot escape its true nature" statement.

People complain Halsin is bland, yet they can't tolerate his outbursts.

One is unrepentant and wants the destruction of the cult at all costs. One values life and fights to save Faerûn even if his demise is the sole outcome. Minthara is a skilled cutthroat. Halsin is self-sacrificing to a fault. The scene is so good. Two different individuals who will never see eye to eye. They're each other's antithesis. Their values are irreconcilable.

Minthara and Halsin are both extremely emotional and their arguments reflect their respective states of mind. Choosing Minthara or Halsin tells more about our own morals (or our character's) than their logic, or lack thereof. So disappointed the ultimatum will never be canon.

[skaruresonic]

The idea of Sonic being Maria’s reincarnation is fascinating to me, I must admit. Though it’s funny to think that she waited 35 years for it after her demise for Sonic to actually be born and then when he is, he’s opposing the cousin and he can’t enjoy Earth and its flowers fully like she also couldn’t because ALLERGIES lol. Comedy value too.

It is, isn't it? Again, I wouldn't push it as canon, but purely as a hypothetical for-shits-and-giggles kind of idea, it definitely is interesting to think about. Particularly with the parallels between Maria and Sonic:

1.) Both admire the genius of those closest to them (Tails and Gerald), 2.) Both are associated with the color blue, 3.) Both have a playful nature, 4.) Both like to race Shadow, 5.) Both are selfless, 6.) Both share immense strength of spirit. Other thoughts: 1.) Sonic can't swim (no pools on the ARK?) 2.) Sonic also seems to have something of an "you play tough, but I just know you'll do the right thing" attitude when it comes to recognizing Shadow's trauma in Battle. Kind of like how Maria recognizes that Shadow isn't the most personable guy around, but is still kind beneath his prickly exterior.

3.) Sonic's hay fever suggests a strong immune system. Overcompensation for Maria's weak one? xP

4.) It would be hilarious if it turned out Sonic continued stealing Eggman's thunder in his current incarnation.

5.) This is the most YMMV point and total fanfic lol, but maybe the spirit "chose" a hedgehog body in order to copy Shadow. Which would make the whole "faker" exchange extremely ironic on multiple levels.

6.) Sonic and Shadow threatening to throw down every time they clap eyes on each other becomes extra hilarious too.

---

Some people have said they aren't fully on-board with the idea because they fear it has the potential to erase or downplay Sonic's agency. While I sympathize with that anxiety, I also view the concept as something akin to transformation. Sonic may very well become someone or something different when he dies, like the blue wind in '06. Nothing is ever permanent.

(And to be quite frank, I kind of find the idea of Sonic being the literal second ULF that got ejected to Earth to be more convoluted than transmigration. You can accept hedgehogs being born as test tube babies, but you draw the line at reincarnation?) It's not that Maria literally is Sonic, but rather, her spirit has moved on and has become someone else. She no longer exists except as the embodiment of the things she loved most: the Earth, full of wonders and as "cool and blue" as Sonic, humanity, and freedom. (In that vein, I like the idea that Sonic helps Shadow move on from the grief of the death of his former life.)

Sonic is, however, at the end of the day, entirely his own person, even if his underlying "substance" is technically the same as Maria's. He would never want to look back, and maybe that's why he doesn't pick up on any subconscious cues about the ARK during his time there except to bid Shadow sayonara.

That is the whole gist driving the underlying idea. There's never gonna be some dramatic grand revelation where Shadow discovers the truth and angsts about it. Chances are Sonic would just laugh it off anyway.

---

Though it’s funny to think that she waited 35 years for it after her demise for Sonic to actually be born and then when he is,

Well yeah, the spirit had to make sure Sonic's buddies would be born at roughly around the same time. Adventure's no fun without friends.

You ever watch a revolving door and try to gauge when you should step inside? That's probably what happened. Can't go now. Maybe now? Oh crap, Eggman's gonna take over the world if I don't go now. xP

---

she’s opposing the cousin and he can’t enjoy Earth and its flowers fully like she also couldn’t because ALLERGIES lol. Comedy value too.

Can't have shit in this transmigration Chili's lol.

This is a potential comedy gold mine. The Commander is ranting and raving about how Maria was slaughtered in the ARK raid, meanwhile Shadow glances over to Sonic, who's hopping from foot to foot like "I just wanna throw hands" xP

[betweenstorms]

Simon Riley was not a man of many words.

His silences were deeper than them, more telling than anything he might have spoken, and in the daylight, they suited him perfectly. He wore quiet the way others wore their skin, natural and seamless, woven into his very being. But at night, something shifted in the dark, as if the silence became too much even for him to bear.

It began one evening, with the world teetering on the edge of sleep, the air thick and drowsy, suspended in the quiet between breaths. His rough voice cut through the stillness, a deep murmur that slipped through the dark like a careless whisper carried on the wind—so soft, so low, you almost wondered if it was just a dream.

“You make everythin’ easier.”

It was a quiet confession, a thought that slipped from him unbidden, breaching the surface of his entire being, hanging in the air like a thin thread between you. You stirred, but held your breath, allowing his words to drift into the stillness—delicate, almost too fragile to touch. He wasn’t seeking a response from you anyway. His words weren’t meant for conversation, they were fragments of himself, pieces he only let fall in the dark, when the night was soft enough to hold his vulnerability without breaking it.

It became a sacred ritual, born from the shadows—his voice, low and rough like the scrape of gravel, rising only when the night wrapped itself around you both. He spoke of things that could never survive the light of day, shards of himself he’d long buried. 

He would tell you about the boy he once was, trapped in a home where silence had screamed louder than any argument. His mother wore her bruises like secrets, shadows beneath her skin that she never let anyone see. His father’s eyes held a fury so deep and lethal it felt ancient, a rage Simon knew he had been born with, something passed down like a curse etched into his pathetic bones.

And then, sometimes, the words shifted, softening as they turned toward you. It wasn’t often, but in those slipping moments, Simon would tell you about the way you made him feel, like you were the one constant in a world that had always been fractured and shifting.

“Don’t know why you stay, love,” he murmured one night, his hand brushing your cheek as if to tether himself to you. “But I’m fuckin’ glad you do.”

In the morning, it was as if the night had erased his words.

As the first light crept through the window, Simon would rise without a trace of the man who had spoken to you in the shadows. The mask slipped back into place as naturally as breathing, and with it, the stoic quiet returned. His hazel eyes would be distant again, guarded, as if the softness of the night had never touched him.

But you carried his words with you, like tokens of something sacred, tucking them away in the quiet places of your heart.

And that, in itself, was a kind of love he didn’t need to speak aloud. It was in the way he lingered a little longer in the mornings, the brief touch of his hand brushing against yours as if seeking an anchor before the day swept him away. It was in the way he would glance at you, a softening in his eyes that no one else would notice but you. And you understood that love, for him, was in the silence and the darkness, in the way he allowed himself to rest beside you.

Because for Simon Riley, this was love.

[justalovelyblackgf]

CLARK KENT HELPING YOU TAKE OUT YOUR BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever to get your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried. fortunately, your fiancé clark is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that’s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get of enough it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as two are both putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer more than when he was using those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: One of my favorite chapters so far. <3

Word count: 3,5k

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A week has passed since you learned the news of your and Aemond's betrothal. And you, most naturally, have made your home in the Red Keep, beside your betrothed. However, much to your happiness, Rhaenyra, your father, and the rest of your family have been staying as well—acquiescing the wishes of Queen Alicent and King Viserys.

The day began with dark rain clouds in the distance and the sun's rays nowhere to be seen. Soon after midday, the downpour started. Heavy rain fell over King's Landing, the drops hitting loudly against the red stones of the Keep.

You stood hunched over the overlook of the training yard, watching with mild interest the few soldiers who insisted on continuing their training even under rain and on top of muddy grounds. Your betrothed, as it happens, was one of them.

Aemond swung his sword towards Ser Criston's shield, not caring for the curtain of rain falling over him, his smirk ever present. You tried telling yourself you weren't watching him, but it was impossible to deny the butterflies in your stomach every time Aemond looked up in your direction, as if to ensure you were still there.

For lack of better words, the past week had been… a lot. You had been doing your best to come to terms with your betrothal and everything it entails. However, in doing so, you might have distanced yourself from Aemond, when perhaps you should have done the opposite. Small things, like avoiding his presence in rooms and spending most of the daylight away from the Keep, riding out on dragonback more often than not. You knew it was mostly out of reluctance, it pained you to think that from now on any relationship you'd have with the second Prince would be born out of duty.

What you failed to notice was that your absence had started to wound your betrothed. Aemond could feel the lack of your warmth around him as clearly as the many years he was forced to live without it; it only served as a reminder for him that your union was not something you had wished for.

The loud thump of Ser Christon's shield falling to the ground brought you back to the present. You watched as the knight ran one hand through his wet hair and patted Aemond on the shoulder with the other.

It seemed Aemond was ready to let go of his sword as well, however before he could do so, you found yourself skipping down the stairs. An impulse that came to you before any rational thought could say otherwise.

Your boots dug into the wet mud of the training yard, and heavy raindrops were quick to soak through your clothes and make your hair cling to your skin. Feeling grateful that you had chosen against wearing a dress today and going for your usual breeches and overcoat. You brushed a hand over your eyes to no much avail, bending down to pick up one of the discarded swords.

Aemond had his back to you, chin down to protect his eye from the rain as he regained his breath. His long silver hair fell over his shoulders, now soaked and slightly curled because of the rain.

"My Prince," You called, prompting Aemond to turn around and face you, a mix of curiosity and surprise in his eye upon hearing your voice. You twirled the hilt of the sword in your hand, then raised its point towards him. "Would you do me the honor?"

Silence lingered in the training yard, with the only sound coming from the rainfall. You could feel the eyes of the few guards and knights around you, undoubtedly whispering among themselves about why a woman would dare challenge a Prince of the realm for a duel.

Aemond took in the sight of you almost hungrily. His lips parted as raindrops cascaded down his alabaster skin until they reached his mouth or the end of his chin, his silver curls framing his features almost poetically. A small, barely there smile molded his cheeks then. He glanced at the sword in his hand, and back at you.

Aemond took a step closer, and you could count the tiny raindrops stuck to his eyelashes if you wanted to. "The honor would be mine, My Lady." He eyed you up and down, savoring the feeling of your closeness once again.

You exhaled slowly when the Prince raised his sword, steadying your grip as steel touched steel. For a beat, all you did was look into his eye, as if speaking a language only you and he knew.

And your duel began under the eyes of the few curious and expectant guards and knights who watched you.

You swang your sword first, a swift movement that Aemond was quick to avoid and counter with an attack of his. The clash of blades rang loud even under the pouring rain, sharp steel cutting through the drops and boots skidding over the mud as you and Aemond danced around each other. Your bodies moved together almost in synchrony, almost as if you'd trained these exact movements together; swords clashing and flying a hair's width away from your bodies yet never breaking any skin or even cloth.

Aemond had a wide grin on his lips, enjoying himself a little too much. You were certain you were almost robbing a laugh out of him. With a twirl of your body and the deafening sound of blades sliding against one another, you and Aemond stopped face-to-face; both held each other's attacks, blade to blade, panting heavily.

"You've been training well all these past years, at least," Aemond spoke, his breath heavy on your lips as he tried to regain air in his heaving chest. From this close, you caught the glance he sneaked down your face, "Kept your form."

You ducked your head at him with a grin of your own, equally breathless as you tighten your hold on the hilt of your sword, "Of course, only waiting for the day I'd be able to beat you again."

Aemond almost faltered at the allusion of you thinking about him during your time apart. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the raindrops falling there, and skipped a step away from you, resuming the duel with a swing of his sword right after.

You easily blocked the attacks, and your elegant dance continued for a moment further, until Aemond ducked from an attack of yours and promptly raised his sword again. The swift action coming from below caught you partially off-guard and a low hiss of surprise escaped your lips when a sharp pain could be felt on the left side of your chin.

This made Aemond falter, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly and his eye widening as he held his stance yet frantically looked you over for any apparent injuries he might have caused. The thought of him hurting you caused an instant pit in his stomach.

His concern gave an opening to you, however, and you took it with a mischievous smile. You twirled the sword in your hand and dashed for him, but Aemond was the best swordsman in the realm for a reason.

The Prince was quick to block your sudden attack with one of his own. Swords clashed, a sharp and loud ringing under the falling rain, and then… silence. You and Aemond stood stock still over the muddy grounds of the training yard, the only movement coming from your heaving chests.

The point of your blade rested over Aemond's chest, and the point of his blade rested over your chest. A draw.

Heavy breaths fell past your lips and you could feel your body shaking from the exertion. But the smile stretching your cheeks refused to leave as you held Aemond at the mercy of your sword.

There was a smirk on the corner of your betrothed's lips as well, his hair the more disheveled you've ever seen it be, sticking to his wet forehead. His smile dropped, however, when his eye seemingly focused lower on your face.

Aemond watched intently as the rain carried a steady trail of deep red blood down your chin and then down your neck. The cut was small but seemingly deep enough as it continued bleeding incessantly.

You didn't seem to mind it, but Aemond gulped heavily at the sight. He was the first to lower his blade.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Small puddles of water were left behind with each step you took, your soaked clothes and shoes leaving their marks on the arched hallways surrounding one of the Keep's courtyards. Closely beside you, the rain still fell heavily from the sky.

You walked without much hurry to your quarters, despite thinking of changing out of your wet and increasingly cold clothes. A distant pain on your chin persisted, and as you raised a hand to the small wound, your fingertip came back a little bloody again. You didn't mind it, of course; a few cuts and bruises were a given even during a friendly spar. But once Aemond had locked eyes on the thin trail of blood making its way down your neck, he'd paled. There was no chance for you to tell him you didn't mind it though, for he walked out of the training yard shortly after.

A breath went past your lips and you willed yourself to stop thinking about him with a shake of your head, yet as you did so, you spotted his mother from afar, walking in your direction.

Alicent wandered slowly, she had her gaze focused on the falling rain outside, her hands clasped together in front of her and the brown curls of her hair lightly kissing her cheeks, framing her face. She must've caught a glimpse of you from the side of her eye as you were about to walk around her.

You gave her a gentle smile, halting your steps once she spoke your name with a hint of surprise.

"Darling, you're soaked." The Queen looked at you from head to toe, her brows furrowing in concern when she noticed your bluish lips. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing." You reassured her quickly, "Aemond and I were just sparring in the training yard, under the rain, that is."

A small laugh came from Alicent then, her smile was a fond one as she glanced aside to nowhere in particular as if being taken by a memory. "You two." She turned to you with a teasing eyebrow raised, "I still recall the days when you'd come back inside for supper with your shoes covered in mud after spending the day together. You haven't changed."

You averted your eyes in the same heartbeat, with a breathless chuckle of your own, feeling your cold cheeks warm up. "Yes um- Perhaps… perhaps we haven't."

She could sense your hesitation easily, see it in the way you made yourself smaller under her gaze. Alicent took your hands in both of hers, "I haven't had a chance to speak with you, since you came back." Waiting so you'd look up and find her eyes, she squeezed your hands. There was a sympathy in her. "And you should know that I am very happy to have you in the family."

You knew she referred to your betrothal, and you managed a thankful smile to her in turn, before averting your attention back to your joined hands.

"Aemond is too." Alicent felt compelled to say.

You looked up at her with a quick move of your head, wisps of damp hair flying over your eyes. Your smile faltered and you could feel your breath catch at her words.

Alicent sighed, nodding softly. "My son, he might take his time to show it, but I believe he is happy." For a moment, she seemed to mull over her next words, choosing the best ones to speak out loud. "The years you spent away were… hard on him." She held a pause. "I know he missed you, dearly."

You wondered, briefly, why hearing it from his mother meant so much to you. "I..." The rain was heavy, almost as heavy as the beating of your heart. "I missed him too."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Aemond had chosen to hide away in the Red Keep's library for the rest of his day. He'd taken a quick but warm bath and changed to dry clothes, the afternoon was almost at its end and the day had only grown colder with the incessant rainfall; and the library that only a few people chose to visit was ever so comfortable.

The bookshelves were as tall as the windows that nearly touched floor and ceiling, each of them had a stair attached so anyone could reach any desired book. However, most of them held a thin layer of dust, especially the ones at the top, having long been neglected and left aside.

Aemond sometimes wondered if he and the maesters were the only ones who regularly stopped by to pick up a book or two.

Because of the lack of sun, the spacious room had grown dark, prompting the lighting of a few torches and candles that cast a faint but golden glow to the book spines and plush armchairs.

The Prince browsed the shelves in silence, fingertips running along the titles etched on each book cover and raising small specks of dust. He looked for nothing in particular, and allowed his mind to wander.

Aemond thought back to his duel with you earlier today, recalling the rush of excitement and tasting the recent memory on his lips still, like the cold raindrops. It was thrill, and ecstasy, and passion to share something so familiar with you again. As if you'd been kids practicing together, like you had done a million times before.

When your swords clashed together, there was no betrothal, there were no seven years spent apart, there were no heavy hearts. Only you and him, dancing around each other.

With a scoff, Aemond became all too aware of a secret he'd keep hidden behind lock and key; that he'd easily live in such moments.

But then there was red in the water, and just as with everything he merely touched, he'd damaged it. He'd hurt you.

The soft creak of the doors being pushed open captured Aemond's attention. And he watched as you walked into the library, because you knew just where to find him.

Your steps were slow, and Aemond's throat worked through a gulp when he noticed how you'd changed to a loose but not less beautiful dress. Light blue, with long sleeves, and showing a bit of your shoulders and collarbone.

The Prince straightened his posture when you made a beeline to him, not pretending otherwise when you stopped only a few feet away.

"My lady," Aemond spoke quietly. With the only sounds coming from the crackling of torches and the rain falling outside muffled by the windows, he needn't speak any louder for you to hear.

You greeted him with a timid smile, then ran the pad of your finger over the books' spines until you pulled one out. Red and golden adorned the cover of the thick book and its title was written in High Valyrian. Your cheeks flushed when you read it, and with a clear of your throat, you pushed it back between the other books on the shelf.

"I wonder if the tales of Old Valyria are still kept on the highest of shelves," You decided to comment, chancing a glance at him.

Aemond hummed, pursing his lips. "I wouldn't know, haven't picked up that book in years."

"We didn't have a copy of it in Dragonstone." You turned to Aemond then, leaning your shoulder against the bookshelf. "Sometimes I wished to read it before bed, like…"

"Like we used to." The Prince finished for you. If you looked closely enough, you could see the hint of a smile on his lips. His eye was gentle and soft, brows devoid of any crease of worry; his hair undone, falling freely over his shoulders and only held in place by his eyepatch. You liked him like this; relaxed, serene—it felt like being privy to a side of him very few were. It felt like a privilege.

Your heart got a little light and wishful when Aemond did this—staying too close, smiling at you, looking only at you—but he seemed oblivious to it. And it was dangerous. You crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you remember the day when maester caught us climbing up the stair." But your smirk stayed when you glanced at one of the stairs attached to the bookshelves, "Up to the very top. And he'd been so mad, because if we fell it would've been his fault."

Aemond averted his eye from yours, looking down at his feet with a nod. If he held your gaze any longer, he might lose his composure—deep in his heart, feeling selfishly content to have you back.

"I don't think he misses our younger days here," You chuckled.

"I doubt the maids do either," Aemond chimed in easily, raising a brow at you, "Can't recall how many sweets you forced me to smuggle from the kitchen."

You feigned offense with a small scoff and by placing a hand atop your heart, "As if you didn't enjoy them with me afterward, hiding us away in your chambers so your mother wouldn't find you with the lemon tarts, My Prince."

Aemond tried to hold back a laugh and failed. And your heart jumped at the sound, at the smile on his lips that accentuated the pink hue of his cheeks. You couldn't help but just look at him, take him in.

But silence eventually lingered when none of you had anything to say anymore. Both you and he trapped under the sudden realization of how close you were to each other.

Aemond locked his gaze on you and on his parted lips he could feel whispers of your shaky breaths. Standing so near, his eye cast over every contour of your face. He clenched his fist when his fingers itched to reach over; just a small hand move and he'd touch you. Soft candlelight bathed your skin aureate, outlining the shape of your eyebrows, cheeks, chin—Aemond gulped when he spotted the cut he'd left on you, a rather angry shade of red standing out amidst your soft features. The Prince wondered how he hadn't noticed it sooner.

You watched with an enraptured gaze as Aemond's brows furrowed, he blinked once, averted his eye for a moment, and looked back at you. The air got stuck in your throat out of instinct when you suddenly felt the ghost of a touch on your cheek.

Aemond's fingertips brushed your skin all careful and hesitant, as if a little unsure of what he's doing. He pursed his lips and you could see the turmoil in his eye; lost, destructive, almost angry—not at you, but at himself. The pad of his thumb drew a line just beside the cut he'd carved on your skin.

The rawness of his touch surprised you, something warm and familiar you found yourself drawn to, and despite your fears, you raised a hand to close around his wrist. You were gentle and slow with how you pressed his palm more firmly onto your face, with the encouragement and reassurance you knew he needed.

An unsteady breath fell past Aemond's lips. His hand shook the slightest bit in your hold, and with your thumb pressed against his pulse point, you could feel the racing of his heartbeat.

"You didn't hurt me," You promised him, it was nothing but a whisper; tucked away in your own world, far from duty and expectations.

Aemond's breaths had grown almost labored, he ran his tongue over a dry bottom lip, and the hand he held you with became a little desperate. His fingers buried in your hair, you could feel him pulling you in. Or perhaps you were the one leaning closer and he was just allowing you to.

But suddenly he was too close, and your noses almost touched, and with a crack of thunder outside, you were brought back to reality. You lowered your chin, breaking the connection with his gaze. Your thumb brushed against his skin in a silent apology when you pulled his hand down and away from your face, before taking a step back from him.

All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. All you could feel was the fear of falling into something born out of duty and not love.

In your haste, you failed to see the small glint of a wounded tear in the Prince's eye.

The doors of the library being pushed open with abandon stole both of your attention, you and Aemond looking at it with wide eyes as if caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.

A knight of the Kingsguard stood at the doors, he tightly clutched the hilt of his sword and his expression was a helpless one. "My Lady." He nodded at you, before turning to Aemond, "My Prince, your mother requests your presence at the great hall, at once."

Aemond chanced a glance at you and you could see the confusion in his eye. "Did something happen?"

The knight hesitated, and you felt a cold shiver going down your back.

King Viserys had died.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter will be out soon.

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[harlynstein]

ALRIGHT so the Bill in this AU is done! Might as well drop some more lore on his behalf LMAO

Alright so Bill was a child raised in a heavily spiritual and loving parents and twin sibling named REDACTED. Both had always surrounded themselves with nature, and to no surprise would their children enjoyed it as well. Bill at the time had shown signs of brilliance, but struggled immensely due to the relentless bullying of his disfigured eye and the other being completely fake. He was pulled out of school during intermediate until high school. While he still had a hard time it was tolerable to say he pushed through thanks to his brother. Now, his brother REDACTED was never pulled from school, meaning that he had an easier time getting along with class mates in comparison to Bill.

With bill wanting to make friends, he refused to mention any other bullying to avoid being pulled out again, to which he develops a friend group he considers close till this day. Because of the sudden drift, both personalities and experiences clashed constantly. While they still stuck together, cared for one another– bill couldn’t help but feel awkward, and felt suffocated by his brother’s success to blend in. Bill managed to graduate early due to his genius, and managed to get into college at the age of 15. He finished his degree young, and decided to go into Paranormal Studies. His brother during this time, had a falling out with Bill during a college party. Leaving both parties humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed they became estranged, forcing Bill more into his college studies. His college roommates in this AU are Pyronica and Kryptos, to which both had decided to come and help Bill on his journey to the unknown anomalies.

In the van the three traveled, made a couple of friends throughout their journey, and recorded countless entries on their travels. However, they discover the only way to truly understand the reason why this all happened was to travel to Gravity Falls. Using whatever money he had, he built what he called his “Cipher Den” a place where the three are able to gather their findings and begin to find answers.

Alas, while they all seemed to collect plenty, for Bill it wasn’t enough. No answers to where they came from, or why they existed. It haunted him day and night until roaming within the woods and stumbling in a cave encased in writing to summon a powerful being. So powerful in fact it is warned to never summon this demon, for his fate will destroy everything you love.

Of course we wouldn’t be able to move on with the plot if he didn’t! And so, Bill was introduced to Ford! A creature wise, smart, calm and collected. His approach while intimidating at first, would soon have Bill admiring his brains. Their deal was struck, and in secret kept this away from his friends. Slowly he’d been manipulated by Ford, slowly isolating him until Kyotos and Pyronica would barely see him outside of his lab. Soon, the portal would begin its process, blinding following Ford as he was a god.

It wasn’t until the two assistants were swept into the portal for a second that they’d warn Bill, before being shut down by the obsessed scientist. Sadly that would be the last time they’d ever see Bill, as for the next few years he became a hermit in the Den as his friends ditched him entirely. Ill managed to get into contact with his brother, where there was slight hope in bonding from REDACTED, Bill still was stuck in his old ways, fighting his brother and being knocked into the portal himself. His brother taking his place had pretended to be him, and in the mean time turn his Den to a dive bar, a popular one thanks to the odd and bizarre “pieces” scatter among the joint.

Currently, Bill is out of the portal which brings us to current day!

This AU is pretty much if Bill and Ford swapped places but lived similar paths in life:

-Ford an being from a different dimension, destroying it, went apeshit, and is a universally wanted criminal

-Bill a paranormal/anomaly scientist who fell for Ford’s trap, shut everyone out and was the one sucked into the portal

There shall be more info soon enough!

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere romantic hcs for Legoshi and Juno both fighting over a wolf darling please ^^

Sure! I haven't rewatched Beastars so I hope they're both accurate. I ran out of ideas for this near the end so I'm sorry it wasn't very intense or anticlimactic....

Yandere! Legoshi vs Juno with Wolf! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, SFW Scent kink, Manipulation, Coercion, Stalking, Blood, Violence, Implied kidnapping, Forced relationship(s).

This is unnerving because, while you are a carnivore and the same species as them, the two can still take advantage of you.

For example, as a fellow wolf you'd think you can trust the two....

Legoshi may be socially awkward, but he's reliable.

Plus Juno is so sociable and nice!

Unfortunately, despite that, it doesn't seem like you can trust them in this....

Juno herself has been described as ambitious, manipulative, and jealous/possessive in canon.

This is shown in how she competes to be Beastar and her behavior towards Legoshi and Haru.

Legoshi is, surprisingly, more tame than Juno.

He's humble and polite, struggles socially, and tries to be gentle/patient.

Although, since he is still a wolf, he is capable of being imposing and assertive.

He doesn't like scaring people... yet his stature as a male wolf is naturally intimidating.

Out of the two, I feel Juno would be the one more forceful.

Legoshi spends a lot of his time trying to rationalize his feelings and comprehend them.

While Juno immediately thinks it's love at first sight and you must date.

There's a lot of manipulation in this rivalry.

The good thing is, you're not an herbivore.

Which should, in theory, put you on near equal footing with them as a wolf.

You see the two wolves during classes, in the hallways, during Biology Days...

You may even have drama club with them.

As a wolf you interact a lot and don't activate any sort of hunting instinct in them.

What you do ignite within them?

A need for companionship.

Juno used to feel such a way for Legoshi until she met you.

She loves your fur, your scent, your voice...

She loves it all!

It's funny, because the moment she finds a new crush?

Her old crush also shows signs of liking them.

Frustrating.

Wolves tend to be possessive of chosen mates.

So while Juno shows this a lot more, Legoshi's capable of it too.

You're close with them as friends and fellow wolves.

You even remember their scent and are capable of sensing them through that.

Which is why it unnerves you when you start sensing them more often than you should.

Juno is much more clingy, sociable, and touchy with you.

She's assertive and it seems like she's showing every animal around her that you two belong together.

It's like she's showing claim over you.

You notice and may try to distance yourself, but the other wolf follows you closely.

Why are you trying to avoid her?

Do you not like it when she holds you? Nuzzles you?

Don't you see her tail wagging when around you?

Legoshi is less into PDA....

He's shy around you and allows you your space and independence.

He's protective more than possessive, yet those desires still linger within his actions.

He blushes at close contact, stutters when speaking to you, and overall just likes to admire you from a distance.

He's the opposite of Juno... yet he feels jealous when he sees how Juno acts around you.

Legoshi can tell you aren't a big fan of Juno's clingy behavior.

Which he uses as an excuse to pull you away and distract you a bit.

Much to Juno's frustration.

Although, while Legoshi is protective and willing to help you away from Juno...

He can end up being suffocating too.

Legoshi is less manipulative and possessive than Juno at first.

Although, with how strong the other wolf is coming on, he may feel like he has to show claim over you.

It's no doubt in his instincts if he really does view you in a romantic way.

You probably don't even see either wolf in that kind of way.

Which is why it can be overwhelming when two wolves are suddenly not only trying to win you over... but compete.

They both act caring and attentive to you when it's just you and them alone.

Yet the moment the two are in a room with one another?

There's tension and glares.

Maybe a frustrated growl here or there.

Juno is the one who acts the most moody out of the two.

She's often arguing with Legoshi, blaming him for trying to sabotage her or how she just wants him to leave you and her alone.

Her heart is still recovering from their "break-up" (They were never together).

Now he's trying to take yours from her!?

Meanwhile Legoshi just wants to make sure you're okay and Juno isn't being too... much.

Legoshi's crush is gradual, so he starts just genuinely looking out for a fellow "pack member".

Although... Over time he wonders if he should pay attention to how his tail wags and how he blushes around you....

Would the two be violent with one another...?

No... I can't really see it.

Legoshi would want to physically hurt Juno.

Juno may threaten him, standing her ground and barking about how you're hers.

But she won't actually do anything... hopefully.

Legoshi is no doubt stronger than her as a male wolf, so she's cautious.

Even other wolves can sense the tension between these two.

Biology Day feels more stressful than it should be due to Juno and Legoshi avoiding one another.

Juno would try to spend more time with you by inviting you to gatherings or trips.

You don't seriously plan on spending all of your time in the dorms, right?

You'd rather do that than deal with their tension.

She'd drag you out to hang out with her, always having an arm around you as she walks.

Her tail would be wagging fast, while yours sways with insecurity.

Legoshi would be less forceful, merely offering for you to hang out with him... doing anything really.

Since he isn't as intense, you may actually go to him more often.

Right up until he admits he has feelings for you, another wolf, and asks if you'll be his?

He may be more considerate... but he's going to want this rivalry between him and Juno to end at some point.

One of them will have to claim you as theirs soon....

You don't seem at ease around Juno... but you're at ease around him, right?

Right?

It's worse when you're walking around the halls, only to catch sight or smell of them.

You know at least one wolf is watching you at all times.

As though they're waiting for the perfect move.

Kidnapping seems OOC for both of them... but hey...

Maybe one of them will trap you in their dorm so you have to make a decision?

This rivalry could go on for months.

It really pushes you and the two wolves to the brink.

You're aware the two stalk you.

You're aware they're pushy to date you because you're such a good looking and kind wolf...

Yet you wish they'd stop.

Even when you tell them you want nothing to do with either of them...

They only seem to press more.

Juno gets more possessive, Legoshi gets more protective...

You can't trust either of them anymore.

Plus, you may even grow more concerned when you start seeing blood on their fur.

With months of tension, the two may even fight more.

Wolves are territorial and violent when it comes to mates....

You can only hope the issue resolves soon.

Those wounds are beginning to concern you.

They can't hide the smell of blood from you.

Juno may be the one most likely to lock you in her dorm until you choose her.

Although, Legoshi may lure you to his dorm in an attempt to soothe you and protect you.

Both wolves are intense and only seem to have one goal in mind...

How long will it be before one of them snaps?

You may be a wolf, a carnivore just like them...

But between them you just feel like prey.

[acourtofthought]

I saw this Elriel post saying Elriel is basically Elorcan and honestly now I'm kinda conflicted because I loved them 🥺

Do you think she would pull an Elorcan with them? Or do you think Elucien will pull through with the reluctant mates trope? I've seen so much from both sides that I honestly don't even know what I want anymore lol I think I just want ANY book

The above is something Lorcan said to Elide in one of his dreams and a strong possibility for why he was willing to tie his immortal life to her mortal one.

Lorcan has no other mate, Elide has no other mate therefore him believing she might be his mate can not be challenged. He wants to be with her believing he's meant to be with her. Elucien's bond is confirmed, Az can scent it, Feyre confirmed it when she slipped into his head and Mor used her gift of truth on Lucien (the only reason he was allowed to enter Velaris / their home).

Lorcan believed Elide was his mate because of the way he felt for her. Az thought the Cauldron might be wrong because he's the third brother and his two brothers were with two of the sisters so why shouldn't he get the third sister? He never once spoke of actual feelings for Elain, he never even mentioned a single thing he liked about her outside of her beauty and the way her arousal smelled. He didn't give her credit for her bravery, for how she stood up to Nesta, how she saved his life, how she saved Nesta and Cassian's life, he never asked her how she was coping after her fathers death, if she still missed Graysen, how she was feeling after her fights with Nesta, etc. Az wanted a mating bond like his brothers because he thought that would have been the fair thing, Lorcan thought he might be Elide's mate because of Elide and only Elide.

That is not the same thing. Also, Elide was a bit dark in her personality which is why she was a match to Lorcan who was associated with death. She had a disability which prevented her from doing the things she wanted to do. Elain has no such physical disability but she avoids cruelty because it bothers her. Whereas Nesta gruesomely behead the king in revenge, Elain stabbed him, a killing blow, but only to the extent that was necessary and nothing more. Elide was never mentioned as being a gentle grower of things, with life shining in her eyes, who had a love of nature and flowers, who craved sunshine in the way Elain is. Lorcan and Az might be similar but Elide and Elain are very different. As far as reluctant mates. Nobody knows what Sarah will do but reluctant mates is a lot more of a sure thing in fiction than truly rejected mating bonds. I can name many authors who have gone the route of reluctant mates but I can't think of a single book or best selling author where a FMC rejected her mate and the series / book ended with the rejection sticking.

In terms of aesthetic, I think Sarah really hammered it home for us when she wrote CC. Solas - the Sun God was the lover of Cthona - the Earth Goddess. Lucien is set up to be the heir to the Day throne with Helion being described as the sun personified and Elain is definitely a lot like Cthona in terms of imagery.

[rey-jake-therapist]

We better get some real good Saurondriel content in the finale, because if the showrunners have been trolling and baiting us all this time and we’ll get Galadriel outright resisting Sauron and cast him away with Nenya or some Marvel-type sh*t, a huge chunk of their audience will be pissed.

I don’t understand what they are playing at here. Yeah, the kiss was strategic and not romantic, but wtf would they have that happening on-screen? No one will be happy about this scene, not the shippers (Elrond x Galadriel will), not the (actual) lorebros, and even the casuals might cringe. I would have picked a kiss between Galadriel and Adar any day, over this.

Ok, you may have seen my opinion on the kiss already : I don't mind it at all and I think it was very well done, in a way that there was no confusion possible about its nature. Now I can see many are confused anyway and it's understandable, but I found it the most platonic that a kiss on the mouth can be, and Galadriel's reaction said it all : "bro what?" was what her face said. She looked as stunned as if her own brother had kissed her. If you look closely it's very clear that he's gving her something, so she was also surprised by the subterfuge. And Elrond says, "forgive me," before doing it. Of course he's asking that because he regrets how he treated her, but I think it''s also a pre-apology for what he's going to do. To warn her that he's about to do something WEIRD and that she must play along.

It's quite confirmed by Morfydd Clark in the BTS interview : she said that Galadriel didn't think Elrond would be so bold (in the sense: bold enough to risk it all to allow her to escape, I think); when the interviewer expressed her surprise, Robert laughed goofily (he's so adorable, I can't). Then they were asked what he was doing, to which they answered: "he was giving her a pin!". End of story. There was no reason to talk about it more because it was all that it was.

So to be clear, I didn't intepret it at all as "Elrondriel baiting". Are there really many shippers, anyway? Everybody knows that Galadriel will become Elrond's mother-in-law, even the showrunners ackowledged that fact in an interview. Since the beginning their relationship is sibling-coded.

Why making it happening? Because otherwise the audience wouldn't understand how he gave her the pin in the first place. He couldn't put it in her hands because there was no way to do it discreetly. Kissing her was the only way, truly.

Personnally, I would have preferred it if it had been the Orc who discusses Adar's orders who would have released her, but well, they went for that instead... There was definitely a desire to surprise the audience and see their reaction. I must say my first reaction was a big "yikes!" because it really felt as watching two siblings kiss, and I'm pretty sure it was how most people reacted.

I keep seeing this kiss being accused of "breaking the lore", but it doesn't break anything. They didn't get married suddenly because Elrond kissed her to give her a pin... I must say that when I've read about the leak, I didn't believe it because in my view, it would make their relationship awkward and ambiguous. But I didn't imagine that it would happen in front of witnesses, because there was no other choice! For some reason, I thought that Elrond would sneak into Adar's camp and kiss her to give her the pin while he could give it to her in a completely different way. In this case, it would have felt awkward and would have inserted some unnecessary drama into a plot that doesn't need that.

An Adar/Galadriel wouldn't make any sense whatsoever, imho. Shipping them is very cool and fun, I found myself imagining scenarios where a romance between them could actually work, but it's not at all what the show is heading for.

No one can say how episode 8 will turn out, if it will be satisfying for the Haladriel shippers or not... We can now be quite certain that the kiss that Morfydd hinted at was this kiss, so there won't be a Saurondriel kiss. But is it really that surprising? We talked so much about the possibility that I caught myself hoping for it, but tbh I'll be content if their scene is emotional and isn't limited at "I hate you! I hate you more!" and useless fighting.

The only hope I have for Haladriel in episode 8 is that Galadriel realizes that Sauron didn't fake it all with her. I don't know how they'll manage that, but it's the most we can truly hope for, imho. The showrunners said episode 8 would be emotional... Now we just can wait and see!

[myun-saidthoughts]

But once the feeling passes, I question "was this feeling ever real?" When it fades, so does the importance it once held:

What is internal emotional permeance and emotional object constancy? (Disorganized attachment style edition)

Individuals with a disorganized attachment style or Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) often struggle with these concepts, but in this post, I’ll focus on a different manifestation of these patterns. Instead of seeking constant verbal reassurance or relying on continual acts of love to confirm that someone cares for you, I’m exploring how this dynamic unfolds internally. It's about the emotional barrier between you and your mind—where you can only care about or desire something or someone if that feeling is constant and always present. This habit can influence your emotional responses toward yourself and others. You might experience moments of despair or hopelessness, but once the intensity of those feelings fades, so does their significance. In those intense moments, nothing else feels real, and no words or actions can alleviate them. But once the feeling subsides, the desire to understand it further also dissipates. This can cause a sense of disconnection from your own emotional experiences, leading you to question their validity or reality. When the emotional intensity drops, there's a difficulty in maintaining a "mental representation" of that feeling because it wasn't fully integrated. This leaves you with a sense of emptiness or confusion, as if the emotion evaporated or never mattered to begin with. If your emotions can feel so real one moment and vanish the next, it's hard to believe in their authenticity, which feeds into a fear of abandonment. If you can't trust your own feelings, it's natural to worry if what you are feeling is real or true. This uncertainty makes it challenging to desire or pursue romantic connections, even though there's a part of you that longs for them.

When you struggle with this, it's not just about needing reassurance from others-it's about needing reassurance from yourself that your feelings are valid, even when they change.

In essence, it's the inability to feel something unless it completely consumes you. Subconsciously, you don’t allow yourself to want, care, or love another unless the emotion fills every part of your being. You start to question, doubt, and dismiss any thought or feeling once it fades. You may find yourself questioning your authentic feelings toward someone because "you can’t feel it anymore." The overwhelming emotion is no longer occupying your mind or causing that deep sense of longing, leading you to wonder if it ever truly existed.

It's when you meet someone new and there isn't a spark or an instant longing looming over you, you may dismiss it altogether. You tell yourself, "He can't be important; there is no instant desire, therefore I can never want him. If he leaves now, there won't be a part of me that cares." Instead of allowing them in, you enumerate every reason why this person won't fulfill your suppressed needs, and the cycle continues. It's when you do find yourself wanting another, they check every insane box on your list, and suddenly one day, the feeling just passes. You then ask yourself "I think I don't want him anymore? Why don't I care as much as I did before? And why does it feel like I'm no longer attracted to him?" Suddenly, any permanence or consistency you once felt with them withers away, leaving you stuck in a feeling of stagnancy and dislike. You think, "These feelings aren’t consuming me anymore, which means he won’t be an important person in my life. If he were, my feelings would remain constant and present, and I wouldn’t be questioning my desire for him."

It's when you’re listening to a song that stirs a hopeless emotion within you—suddenly, there's a resonance that lingers at the back of your mind, and for those moments, all you can feel is that intensity lurking in the shadows. But once the song ends, so do the emotions it brought.

It's like sitting on your bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. In that moment, you feel nothing but despair and hopelessness, as if there's no purpose, no meaning, no desire to continue. The heaviness feels so real, so present. But when that feeling eventually passes, as all feelings do, you can’t grasp it again.

You dismiss those feelings, telling yourself, "I feel okay now." The weight is gone, and so you question whether you truly felt it at all. If the feeling can pass, then so does the importance of it; now you question if it ever meant anything in the first place.

And the cycle continues.

You tell yourself that feelings must be constant in order for them to be real. "I have to always feel this way," you say, "and if I don't, then the feelings were never significant."

These habits quietly build barriers, creating emotional blocks and distance, preventing you from desiring someone or something deeply again. Allowing emotions to consume you isn't realistic or healthy. Instead, your brain may be constructing a barrier that hinders genuine care for others, often rooted in abandonment wounds and a lack of self-trust, You find reasons why this person isn’t right for you or downplay the significance of your feelings once they start to fade. However, this habit only serves to keep you at a distance, preventing you from truly validating your own emotions. As a result, you end up trapped in a cycle that you long to break free from.

At some point in your life, there was a moment when the trust you extended to another was broken, the love you offered went unrecognized, and the safety and care you longed for never arrived. To protect yourself, especially with the deep emotions that naturally arise within you, you’ve begun to view romantic connections and feelings in a black-and-white lens. If you can’t always feel something, you conclude that the emotion isn't permanent and, therefore, not real.

Now, without even realizing it, you navigate through life with a lens designed to keep you "safe." However, this approach creates distance within yourself. You yearn for a partnership and want to feel secure in someone else’s presence, but despite your efforts, something continually stalls the connection from forming. You experience moments of longing for a soul who can provide the ease you’ve never felt. And in some other cases, even when you find someone who brings you the sense of wholeness you've desired, something always seems to block your progress. If you're unaware of these subconscious patterns and unable to recognize the self-undermining behaviors you cling to, how can you ever break free from them?

As humans, we inherently long for, wish for, and seek to hold onto loving connections that provide us with a sense of security and love. This is a fundamental aspect of our nature. Although certain moments may seem fleeting, these feelings never truly vanish. Instead, something in your mind tells you, "It's time to let that part of you go." Yet, in reality, that feeling doesn’t disappear; it merely fades from your conscious awareness. The question remains: how can the same emotions persist? Whether it’s through desiring a partner or grappling with internal emotional turmoil that leaves you feeling hopeless, if the feeling came once, the feeling will come again. 

This is especially true for those who seem to struggle with finding a partner. You may search for connections that won't ever leave you wondering or questioning, you search for eyes that whisper to you "you won't lose feelings for me." This is a self protection tactic that your body searches for because of the fear that comes within when it comes to allowing yourself to want another. Your body is afraid to care for someone who might ultimately leave. You worry that the person you choose may not choose you in return. As a result, you set impossible expectations for yourself in your quest for a partner. You think, “If they can meet these impossible standards, then I’ll feel safe choosing them.” If they can endure your emotional turmoil or confusion, then they “must” be significant and “must” be someone meant to be in your life.

Accept your desire for connection. Acknowledge that there is a part of you longing to be held by someone else. It’s okay to allow yourself to care and want another, even if those feelings don’t always remain constant in the beginning.

Connections are meant to be built; they should happen naturally over time. You can’t expect yourself to automatically know someone, especially if their eyes are the only reassurance telling you, “You’re safe.” Trust their actions, and trust your gut. I understand you may long for a deep love that no one else can recognize or even become accustomed to; but often, this expectation of always yearning keeps you at a distance from choosing someone who is already choosing you. If the person you’ve allowed yourself to love causes you to question your feelings, acknowledge those emotions, but also reevaluate their origins.

Consider where these hesitations are stemming from. Is it your subconscious? Is it your fears? Is it because, once upon a time, the person you chose ended up choosing another? Is it because your mother never cared for you in the way your soul wished for? Is it because your father abandoned you emotionally in times of need? Is it because your emotional needs were never acknowledged or met? If so, then understand that those lost feelings activated a switch within you—a switch that tells you to run before it's too late.

Healing is not a straightforward journey, and it won't happen overnight. The first step in overcoming these patterns is to acknowledge them and recognize that there is a part of you still operating from a place of fear.

You are not alone, and there is a way out of these self-undermining patterns. You are capable of change, and your soul is asking for acknowledgment. Grant yourself the grace and validation you seek; it is the first step toward healing.