#but i hope i'm right. that would be exciting!

[mggslover]

Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories. 

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed. 

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted. 

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.” 

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.” 

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid. 

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod. 

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head. 

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor. 

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?” 

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear. 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. As his best friend, you were the one he turned to, the one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could. 

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for. 

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island. 

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.” 

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was. “I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling good. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered, your tone icy.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling. “I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you said defensively, crossing your arms to shield yourself.

“Oh, so Hotch knew?” His tone turned bitter, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you reached out to him, but he instinctively stepped back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible, terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled shakily. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m someone who bothers people with my problems?” he asked, his voice raw with vulnerability.

“No!” you said quickly, the desperation clear in your tone. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, his exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.” He said, his tone filled with hurt. 

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. You bit your lip, trying to hold your words in.

“Please,” he whispered, his hand gently taking yours. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.” 

You stared at him, your chest aching. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with this truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat as he loosened his grip on your hand, making you regret speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?” He asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “I’m an awful friend,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs, hating to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His arms tightened around you, his hold warm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he reached out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, the warmth of his hand calming you. “You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.” 

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied, lifting your shoulders. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His eyes softened, his expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.” 

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently pulled you closer, the simple comfort of having you in his arms overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.” 

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch, not finding the words to express how you’re feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, but his eyes softened, filling with an emotion that made your chest ache. He nodded, “Yes. Please.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — urgent, raw, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat, conveying all the need you’d kept bottled up for so long. Spencer seemed to feel it, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

As you moved to the buttons of his shirt, Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. The moment your hands met his bare skin, his breath hitched, and his grip on your hips tightened. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and every inch of him seemed to respond to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him. 

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. The warmth of his touch had you gasping, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, consuming. One hand gripped your waist, holding himself steady, while the other hooked beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you closer. The heat between you is overwhelming, every touch igniting yet another spark. 

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours. 

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened. 

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of desperate whimpers from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper, determined to hit the spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

His low, breathy moans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you just as he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

[moonstruckme]

MAE!!! I'M HERE TO OFFICIALLY SPAM YOUR INBOX WITH REQUESTS (and no you don't have to answer all of them)

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 8K!!!

And first I would like to order a hot cocoa with James Potter and First Snow

Once again, massive congrats, Mae!!! Here’s to even more milestones (and my spam, of course)!

Thank you lovely <33

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 451 words

You’ve been up for hours by the time James rouses. 

You’d woken in the middle of night to peer outside, pulling open the curtains when you saw the snow blanketing your neighborhood. You had every intention of enjoying the peaceful view for a few minutes before you fell back asleep, except the peaceful view proved too exciting for you to drift off again. You’ve been half dozing while you’ve watched, mesmerized, as the pile outside your window has grown and the sun has come up. 

James reaches over and pulls you back into his chest with a warm, sleepy sound. You rub his forearm affectionately. 

His nose nudges behind your ear, cold. “Y’awake?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” 

He tugs at your hip, and you roll over, trading one view for another. James’ eyes are squinty and unfocussed the way they always are before he puts his glasses on in the mornings, his dark curls poofy on one side and crushed against his pillow on the other. He draws a line up your side with his palm. 

“It’s early for you, lovie.” 

You smile. You’re so happy your cheeks almost hurt. “It’s snowing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” James props himself up on an elbow to look over you out the window, then turns around to reach for his glasses when he can’t see anything. For reasons unbeknownst to you, watching your boyfriend adjust the bridge with his middle finger will never become less endearing. He blinks, taking in the scene outside. “Woah.” 

“Right?” You’re giddy. “It’s been going for hours.” 

“Looks like it,” James says, but his eyes are on you. He smiles adoringly. You kiss the uptilt corner of his lips on a whim, and it tilts further. “This is weird for me,” he admits. “Usually it’s me who wakes up first and has to try to get you out of bed.” 

“Who says I’m trying to get you out of bed?” 

He cups your cheek, squeezing. “You want to go out in the snow,” he says knowingly. 

You bite down on your lip in hopes of suppressing it, but your smile is unmistakably sheepish. James laughs, kissing you. 

“Give me just a second, angel.” He sits up, raising his arms above him in a stretch. 

“We can cuddle for a while first,” you offer. 

James looks at you. “You won’t be too eager to go?” 

You shake your head mutely. 

“Really? Because I was thinking that if I make cocoa now and let it simmer on the stove, it’ll be hot when we come back in.” 

You throw off the covers, going to find your clothes. “Good point. There’ll be plenty of time for cuddling later.” 

James laughs as he follows you up.

[yapileon]

@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 1

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader (first fic, be gentle with me pls i'm embarassed, also, i have no idea why i wrote that.)

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

While you had the tendency to be known as a cheeky chaotic teen, you currently felt anxious and shaky. You had spent three years working you ass off to be recognized in the La Masia training academy, it had paid off, since you were on the way to your first training with the senior team.

You're walking to the stadium when you feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You picked it up, smiling at the Mapi León wallpaper you had chosen weeks ago. You knew the pings had something to do with the meme you posted on your fan account, @TacklerCulers this morning.

tacklerculers

liked by 2,486 others

tacklersculers: Ona and The Flash have never been witnessed at the same place at the same time, just saying.

—

Like you thought, the meme was doing well, attracting multiples thousands likes from other woso fans. You couldn't help but giggle at the fact that today, you'd get to meet all of the barça squad. No, it was more than that, today, you'd get to become their teammates.

You were so excited when you had made it on the training pitch, you were the first aside from some of the training staff that you had greeted. You picked up a ball and started juggling, trying to get yourself in the flow. Except this is when you had spotted them walking to you.

Alexia, the captain of the best team in the world, and Mapi Leon, the arm-tape icon —and arguably your favorite player of all time—smiling brightly at you. You were so focused on them that you kicked the ball straight to your shin. Smooth.

"Doing good, rookie?" The defender had asked you with an amused look. Though her smile faded away when Alexia elbowed her in the ribs, frowning.

The sound you had made to answer was something between a hurried yes and a cat screeching. So you nodded profusely, not trusting your voice to not betray you again.

"Don't listen to her cariño," the blond had said softly, her hand on your shoulder, and at that moment you swore you could die, your life was complete.

"Big day today, sí?" the capitain added, dragging you toward the group of players who had started arriving.

You hoped you'd be able to find you voice again soon, otherwise today would only be a long and embarrassing day.

You waved to some of the players, high fiving Patri who seemed very happy to see a fellow La Masia made kid. You couldn't help but be star struck, looking around you you saw Irene Paredes. Wall of the team. And Ingrid Engen? Technically midfield goddess but honorary defender in your books. Really what would have the team done last season without her? You couldn't help but chuckle a bit seeing Ona, remember your meme from this morning, though you tried (and failed) to hide your laugh as a cough.

But then training started, and you were definitely better at football than introducing yourself, so you gave your all. You had warmed up with Ingrid, not like Mapi didn't try to get to you before but the Norwegian had dragged you with her, leaving the Spaniard pouting. You were definitely glad for Ingrid right now, you were sure if you had had to play with your idol right away, you would have somehow tripped on your own feet.

After the warm up, the real work started. You had been doing well, holding your own as much as you could against them, trying to time your tackles well, finding your grooves in your passes. You were playing a five-a-side when the incident happened. At some point, you had tried to nutmeg Alexia on a spur of the moment thing, and had blushed furiously when you had inevitably failed —leaving only Gemma to defend the goal. Which in itself was embarrassing enough, but you had recovered quickly, decided on fixing things, you had ran for your life, and somehow managed to kick the ball away from the goal line when Alexia took her shot.

Problem?

It has landed straight on Ingrid's back, hitting her at full strength.

Ingrid stumbled forward, gasping, and Mapi who was right next to her burst out laughing. You ran to them, mortified, half screaming a busted apology.

"Already trying to get rid of me?" The dark haired woman said, chuckling while rubbing her back.

You screamed, trying to defend yourself while slightly panicking. "What?! No. Ingrid I'm so sorry, it's the ball, I didn't-" you stopped yoursel.

It's the ball? Seriously?

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at you while her girlfriend was practically rolling on the grass from laughing too much.

"I think the ball did exactly what you wanted, little devil." the Norwegian had said smirking, leaving you audibly gasping.

"I- What?" You stumbled on your words "I'm an angel I would never willingly hurt another defender!" you added, gesturing.

Mapi, who was still holding onto her belly from how much she was laughing interrupted, "An Angel? You just tried to murder Ingrid with a football.”

You whined your disagreement, unaware that most of the team had stopped their training to watch you three arguing on the sideline, most with a smile on their lips. You heard Pina laughing in the background, saying something along the lines of you perfectly fitting in already. Alexia had made her way to you. Her voice surprised you when she spoke teasingly, "Would that mean that you'd willingly hurt someone who's not a defender?" You could see on the blonde faces that it was meant as a joke. You watched, half amused half desperate, as the three women burst out laughing at the face you made.

Thankfully for you, the Norwegian did not seem to hold a grudge for the way you had attacked her with the football, leaving the training session to continue.

It was the end of the day and you were making your way to the locker room when Mapi had ran to you. She ruffled your hair, putting her arm around your shoulder when she was satisfied, "You did good today kid, looks like you might have a nice future ahead of you."

Your mouth fell open, before you started scrambling to say thank you. You just couldn't believe Mapi of all people was the one to compliment you. All the team had welcomed you with open arms, pulling you in conversation, praising you when you did well, giving you tips when you were struggling. You always knew they were good people, but witnessing it first hand was leaving you a bit emotional.

You guessed your starstruck eyes were obvious when Frido, who was passing you to sit at her locker said, "Well, no need to ask who your favourite player is, uh?" You felt your body shrink in your seat and went straight back to blushing as the team giggled. After the first moment of embarrassment, you laughed with them.

You had behave fairly well, until you were presented with the perfect opportunity by Irene, feeling like the team had a good vibe, you decided to show a bit of mischief.

"So," Irene asked curiously, "what made you decide to be a defender?"

You froze for a second, your filter failing you, before smirking. "Because defenders are the hottest."

You saw Mapi nearly choke on her water while the whole team burst out laughing. And suddenly you felt very proud of yourself. You laughed with them while kicking away your cleats.

The tattooed Spaniard had recovered from her cough, tears in her eyes, "You're a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows, "I mean… am I wrong?"

"No lies detected," Ingrid chimed in with a wink, making everyone laugh harder.

You leaned back into your locker, not believing how well you were going along with the team. That's when you saw Aitana giggling and grabbing Ona by the sleeve. "Look! Someone edited you on a The Flash meme!"

Uh oh.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, hun! I love that you're requests are open!

Could I please request a fic where Eddie gets cold feet in a relationship with reader, or an old hook up comes along and he doesn't want to be exclusive, so she leaves and he doesn't think more of it until he hears, maybe a year later or so that she's gotten married and he's feeling the bitterness and sad over how he let something so good go?

Usually I love a happy ending but not in this case. Please and thank you!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Runaway Bride

"Do you ever think about getting married?" Y/N asked, her legs tangled with Eddie's under his sheet. Her finger traced shapes on his naked chest.

"Not really, I've always been scared of it, you know?" he answered. His hand rubbed up and down her back. "Do you?"

"All the time. I've been thinking about my wedding since I was young. The perfect dress and the perfect groom," she smiled. She turned her head to look at him, "Would you ever marry me?"

He smiled at the thought, picturing her in white as she walked towards him. Something about it made his stomach flutter. "Yeah, I'd marry you," he said. He beamed at the smile that took over her face.

"One day," she whispered before she placed her lips on his.

That was a year ago, and Y/N still held onto his words. Their relationship was still going strong and she fell in love harder every second.

"How was your day?" Eddie asked, his arms wrapped around her waist as she cleaned the dishes.

"It was good, I looked at flowers for the venue today," she smiled. Eddie kissed her shoulder, and his eye caught the diamond ring on her finger.

"Yeah? Did you pick a favorite?" he asked.

"I did, I have the examples in the bedroom," she said. She dried off her hands and turned around in his arms. She happily accepted the kiss he planted on her lips. "How's the shop?"

"Broken cars, same old. I'm a little more interested in something else right now," he smirked. She eyed his smirk, not surprised to feel his hands move down to her ass.

"What's that?" she edged on, her lips moving to his neck. His chest rumbled as a groan left his throat.

"Making love to my finacé," he said, his fingers dug into her sides. She laughed as he trapped her against the counter and tickled her sides. He scooped her up and raced to their bedroom as she laughed and screamed.

~~~

The closer the wedding got, the colder Eddie's feet became. He loved Y/N, but there was something in his gut whenever he remembered he'd be married to her forever. The thought was supposed to bring him comfort and excitement.

With the thoughts heavy on his mind and a twist in his gut, he got drunk at a sleazy bar. He wasn't sure how many shots he had, or how many times Y/N called. He kept going until he felt numb.

"Eddie?"

Eddie turned his head to see who called him, he shook his head as he could feel the room beginning to spin. He eyed the girl, a confused look on his face as he wondered how she knew him.

"Taylor, remember?" she giggled. The name rang a bell, and he looked her up and down. It took a few seconds but then it all clicked.

"Taylor!" Eddie smiled, his voice louder than he intended. He stood up, slightly stumbling over as the alcohol took its effect. She pulled him into a warm hug, and Eddie crushed her in his arms. Not realizing how badly he needed a hug.

Taylor sat and shared a few drinks with Eddie, listening to his rant about his fear of getting married. He was plastered, he forgot everything he said once it left his mouth and he knew the hangover was going to be brutal.

Eddie wasn't sure who asked or how it happened, but he moaned as he pushed himself inside of her. Her bed hit the wall as Eddie trusted inside of her. He shivered at the feeling of pleasure, for once the tightness in his stomach was a good thing.

~

The hangover was just as horrible as he thought. His head pounded as he rolled out of the unfamiliar bed. He slipped on his smelly clothes and left the house in a hurry.

Y/N was up all night terrified of why Eddie never came home. She figured his phone died after all the calls she left. She sat at the kitchen table, calling all their friends about Eddie's whereabouts when the man himself walked through the door.

"Jesus, Eddie! I've been worried sick!" She exclaimed, she jumped out of her chair and pulled him into a hug. She cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his clothes and the smoke in his hair.

"Where have you been? Sleeping at a bar?" she asked pulling away, she looked him over. Worry in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state.

"I need a second," he said through his clenched teeth. His head was pounding so bad that he could barely stand. She helped him sit on the couch, running to grab him water.

"Do you need medicine?" She asked as she handed him the cup. She figured with the bar smell he had to be hungover, quickly grabbing aspirin from the bathroom.

He was groaning in pain, hunched over when she returned. She helped him take the medicine, sitting beside him.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" She asked, she had never seen Eddie in such a painful sight.

"No, I just need to sleep," he said in a whisper. She helped move him to the bedroom and planted him on the bed. Eddie felt the guilt eating him alive as she took care of him. She stripped off his clothes, changing him into something comfortable.

~

He woke up to the slam of a door. He thanked God that he could open his eyes. The pain in his head was gone, but the guilt settled in his stomach stayed.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N standing there, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, quickly getting out from the sheets, and standing on his knees to hold her face.

"Who's Taylor?"

Eddie felt his body run cold. His mouth was dry as he licked his lips.

"Just a girl I knew back in the day. Why?" He nervously asked. It was clear he was caught, and he had no idea what to do.

"I found her number in your jeans," Y/N said, her voice nowhere as strong as it usually was. Eddie gulped as she handed him the small piece of paper.

"Why are you going through my jeans?" He was caught and all he knew to do was get defensive.

She scoffed and pushed her hands off of him. He caught himself as he balanced on the bed.

"That's your question?" She asked, her tears running down her face but her eyes were pissed. "I was being a good fiance and doing your damn laundry! So answer my question, why the fuck do you have a girl's number in your jeans?"

"I ran into her at the bar!" Eddie answered, standing up on his feet. "We talked and I didn't even know she slipped it in my jeans."

"You ran into her at a bar and came home the next morning," Y/N thought out loud. Eddie gulped as she began to pace. "No bullshit, just tell me, did you sleep with her?"

Eddie saw the anger vanish in her eyes, somehow her eyes turned blue as she began to cry. Eddie nodded, looking down at his feet.

"You son of a bitch!" She cried, Eddie looked up as he felt her hands beating at his chest. He tried to grab her hands but she was hitting him and crying hysterically. She began to sob, arms getting weak.

"I know! I know! Just breathe," he tried but she shoved him away.

"Don't tell me to breathe!" She snapped, "I can't believe you. Our wedding is barely a month away and you fucking cheat on me? Why? What could she possibly offer that I don't?"

"I panicked!" Eddie confessed, "I've been terrified for this wedding and I needed to cool off. So I went to the bar and got drunk. I barely knew what was happening, all I knew was that I didn't feel scared anymore."

"You're going to say you cheated on me because you got cold feet? WHY PROPOSE IF YOU ARE SO DAMN SCARED!"

"I thought it was what I wanted!" He cried, his sad eyes taking in her crying state. "I thought you were the one I wanted. But when I thought about being married, the commitment, and the kids. It all got too much."

"You don't want me anymore?" She cracked out

Eddie flinched at the cracks in her voice, her sobs turning into hiccups. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Fuck you, Munson," she spat. She took a few deep breaths to collect herself. "I would like you to leave for 2 hours, so I can pack and leave. I don't want to see you. I don't want you to call me. And don't ever think of finding me."

He took the time to soak her in. The pressure on his body was gone, but at what cost? Breaking the heart of the only girl that loves him in and out?

"Please?" She whimpered as she turned around.

"Take your time," he said. He walked over to her, craving to touch her one last time. But when his hand made contact with her skin she was fast to run into the bathroom and slammed the door.

~~~

~Three years later~

"Can I grab a drink from the fridge?" Eddie asked, standing up. He was over at Steve and Robin's apartment, hanging out with them and Dustin.

"Yeah go right ahead," Robin said, her attention on the TV.

Eddie walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge he noticed a photo of the fridge. He stood up straight, yanking the picture down from its magnet. He felt this heaviness on his chest as he looked it over. It was Y/N, she looked beautiful.

He hadn't thought much about her since the day he came home and she was gone. Not a trace of her anywhere. He respected her wishes, he didn't try to find her and he never asked about her. He forgot they shared the same friends, and he felt a little hurt they kept in touch with her.

She wasn't alone in the picture; a man was behind her with his arms wrapped around her. The smile on her face was angelic; she was beaming with happiness. A big rock was on her finger, one completely different from the one he gave her. It was prettier and shiner, and it looked far more expensive.

"Save the date" was written across the bottom in a fancy font. He knew she'd move on and settle down, but he didn't think about how painful it would feel to see it happen—to see her in another man's arms.

"Yo what's taking so long?" Steve laughed as he walked in, freezing when Eddie turned holding the photo. Eddie blinked his eyes, hoping to ignore the water building in them.

"Shit, Robin was supposed to hide that," Steve said, snatching the photo out of his hand.

"It's alright. You shouldn't have to think about that," Eddie shrugged, "it's been three years, surprised it took this long to run into her somewhere." He let out a sad chuckle.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, a worried look in his eyes.

Eddie nodded. He truly wasn't. He spent so much time pushing their memories away that he forgot what it felt like to love her. And now it all came back, and he loved a girl who was getting married, and this time not to him.

"She looks happy," Eddie painfully smiled. Steve watched as Eddie wiped away a tear, he acted like he didn't see it. "Is he good to her?" His voice wavered slightly.

"Yeah, man. She's happy and taken care of," Steve nodded. A pitiful look in his eyes that made Eddie want to vomit.

"I think I need some air," Eddie said as he escaped. Steve sighed as the door slammed shut, putting the photo back on the fridge.

Eddie pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking as he flicked the lighter. For three years he felt nothing. For three years he could sleep perfectly without thinking about her. He was still in the same house, easy as ever since she took everything that had a trace of her.

But now she ran through his head. The memories, the love, and the happiness. The glow she had when she walked into a room. If he didn't fuck it up, they would have married right now. He wonders if they'd have a kid running around and if they'd move into a bigger house.

As he inhaled the cigarette, he thought about the future he could have had. Even if it wasn't with him, he was happy she got her happy ending.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[tthoroughfare]

kerosene // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the setup of a slow burn between you and ellie.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.7k

so... this actually started out as NOTHING. i planned for it to be nothing. just me, my pages app and my love for jackson!ellie & that fuck ass hoodie against the world. howeverrrr i may or may not have written almost 10k so far that i'm planning to split up (and continue) into an ongoing series just focusing on you and ellie living in jackson, spending time with your friends, slowly falling in love. real piners rise

god i just love jackson ellie so much. her little nerdy cocky self

the idea of being friends and pining over each other for literal years because you’re both too scared to say anything… catching the other staring, having a few little moments here and there but chalking it up to nothing because you both don’t believe the other would see you like that.

and then she starts dating cat and you’re just like welp. guess this is really never ever gonna happen after all. you let yourself mope for a while, not wanting to go out as much for fear of seeing them together and feeling that strange pang in your chest — just overall being weird and avoiding ellie. you feel silly, really, locking yourself away and listening to sad music over someone you were never even with.

you selfishly hope it doesn’t last long, that it’s just a fling, but when months go by and they’re still together, you come to some sort of acceptance. you even date someone else for a short while to try and take your mind off of her, but quickly realize you’re just searching for scattered parts of her in someone else. and something in your gut tells you that while nothing’s wrong within the relationship, it just doesn’t feel right. doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to.

meanwhile, ellie’s mindset was that she never really saw you as attainable in the first place. and she did genuinely really like cat, so when she initiated the relationship, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see where it went. you were always at the back of her mind, though. she didn’t like the way you’d distanced yourself. you were never best friends, but definitely fairly close. she felt the switch almost overnight, the way you stopped going out of your way to talk to her, stopped asking her to tag along when you'd hang out with jesse and dina. she didn’t know what your deal was. the thought that you might be jealous did cross her mind, but she quickly swatted it away. why would you be jealous? it’s only her.

when you started seeing someone yourself, it was like confirmation. nothing was ever gonna happen, you weren’t jealous; how could any of that be the case when you were right there, with someone else? she cursed herself for even thinking about any of it, guilty conscience thick when her mind would then turn to cat. she knew she shouldn’t be deliberating whether you were jealous, whether you liked her, whether anything could ever happen between you, when she had a girlfriend.

she tried her hardest to push you out of her mind whenever you’d arise. she still saw you around, sometimes alone, sometimes with your girlfriend. you’d talk pleasantly, share a few laughs, but it wasn’t like it used to be.

and then one day, when she’s on her way home, she sees you by yourself. you’re sitting under a tree reading, headphones in. she can’t help but notice you look a little melancholy, like you don’t want to be bothered. she deliberates on whether to disturb you or not, stopping, then going to walk away, then stopping again. against her better judgement, she wanders over to you and nudges you gently with the side of her foot.

you look up, offering a small smile and tugging your headphones out. “hey.”

“hey.” ellie mirrors you, shooting back a soft smile of her own. a beat of slightly awkward silence passes as she tries to think of the reason she actually came over. she doesn’t even have one.

“what’s up?” you ask after a few seconds.

“uh… not much. just… uh… wanted to say hi.”

the corner of your mouth quirks into a slight smirk. “well… you just did.”

ellie breathes out a quiet chuckle, bringing her hands together to mess with her fingers. “very funny.” she pauses, then hesitantly crouches and sits beside you. “whatcha reading?”

you turn the cover so that she can see it. “mystery book,” you say, eyes flitting between ellie and the novel, before you rest it back in your lap, starting to lightly read again.

“you want me to tell you who the killer is?”

you chuckle, looking back up at ellie. “sure, take a stab at it.”

ellie’s eyebrows raise slightly. “pun intended?”

you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow as you realize what you just said. “nope. guess i’m just too witty.”

she looks down and smiles lightly, before looking up at the sky in feigned thought. she clicks her fingers. “it’s the priest.”

you let out a laugh. “there isn’t even a priest in it.”

“that’s what you think,” she quips back, feigning seriousness. “he will be introduced in… 43 pages.”

you roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile. “shut up.”

“nope. wanna hear some more of my predictions? 100% accuracy guaranteed.”

“sure.”

“… you’re in a shitty mood,” ellie says matter-of-factly, before her voice softens. “seriously, you good? you look all…”

she trails off, gesturing at you slightly.

you chew at the inside of your cheek. truth be told, you are in a shitty mood, but you didn’t realize it was visible. plus, you don’t really want to talk about it. especially not to ellie, of all people. “yeah, nah, i’m fine.”

she just gives you a look in reply — one to say, ‘i’m not stupid’. to which, you let out a small sigh and shake your head. you’re not good at lying to ellie. “okay, i guess i may be in a… tiny bit of a slump.”

she shuffles a bit, leaning back on her hands. “why? what’s wrong?”

you pick at your nail, pausing. “i don’t know, man. just… yeah. stuff.”

“what kinda stuff?”

you curse her in your head for pushing, but simultaneously feel a pulse in your chest that she cares. you don’t particularly want to talk to ellie about your relationship. or lack thereof. it feels embarrassing, for some reason. in the end, you let out a small, defeated sigh. “ugh. just… so… i’m not with you-know-who anymore.”

ellie raises her eyebrows, trying to ignore the way she feels selfish relief. “damn. that sucks.”

you shrug. “i suppose so.”

another awkward pause occurs as ellie tries to think of what to say. comforting people has never really been her forte, but she wants to try for you. plus, she’s curious. “…wh-what happened?”

you look up, eyes flitting around the scenery, pulling a small face as you think. “nothing, really. just… wasn’t working. like… didn’t really feel right, y’know?”

she quirks an eyebrow, looking sideways at you. “so it was you, huh?”

you let out something between a breathed out chuckle and a groan. “…yeah. i felt really mean.”

“damn. you’re ruthless. heartbreaker,” she teases deadpan in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

to which, you roll your eyes and snicker, the smile lingering on your face. even in the worst mood, you’d noticed, ellie could always make you laugh somehow. “shut up. it wasn’t like that.”

“then what was it like?”

you shrug lightly, toying with the cover of your book. “i don’t know. went as best as it could, i suppose. i have nothing against her, nothing happened, it just… yeah. like i said. wasn’t right.”

ellie hums in acknowledgment, looking away in thought. her silence feels a little uncomfortable, driving you to babble on. “i don’t know, she’s nice and everything, but it just felt like we were kind of… wasting each other’s time. i didn’t see it actually going anywhere. i know we’re still young, and… y’know, it’s hardly like we have to marry each other or whatever. but something just felt missing. i don’t know.”

you glance at ellie briefly, then back down at your book, tracing the cover art with your fingertip. “like… you and cat. you guys seem happy. what does that feel like?”

she feels a little taken off guard. she’s not used to talking about this with anyone; anyway, nobody’s ever really asked. she shifts, sitting cross legged and leaning her forearms on her thighs, messing with her hands. “uh… i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows slightly. not really the reaction you were expecting. “oof. what does that mean?”

ellie lets out a drawn out hum, wrinkling her chin. “… i don’t know. i suppose it just feels… hm. it’s just… what it is. i guess.”

you pull a face, blowing air through your nose. “wow. don’t get too sappy on me, now. you’re gushing.”

her eyes roll in response to your sarcasm, a lopsided smirk on her face. “shut up.”

you mirror her smile, meeting her eyes for a few seconds, trying to shove down the way it burns a hole through you, makes your chest feel like it’s constricting.

the moment is broken by a call of ellie’s name. you both automatically look up, spotting cat strolling over with a bright smile on her face. 

“speak of the devil,” you murmur jokingly, turning to look back at ellie briefly.

she scoffs in response, moving to stand up. when cat presses a small kiss to her lips in greeting, resting a hand on her arm, you avert your eyes.

cat looks down at you, offering a soft smile and a wave. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, looking back up. you did really like cat. you weren’t necessarily friends, but she was cool, and funny, and always nice to you. you flit your eyes between her and ellie as she turns back, addressing her girlfriend.

“i was on my way to yours. we still watching a movie tonight?”

ellie looks down at you, then back at cat, an unreadable expression on her face. “uh… yeah, yeah. for sure.”

cat smiles at ellie, taking her hand and lightly swinging it between them. “… well, we’ll leave you to it,” she says to you.

you nod slowly. “yup. catch you two later.”

you wave half-heartedly at them both as they walk away hand-in-hand, free hands returning the gesture. you busy yourself with putting your headphones back in and choosing a new song, but if you were looking up, you’d have seen ellie look back at you. twice.

[jbaileyfansite]

Critics Reactions to Jonathan Bailey's perfomance as Fiyero (Master Post)

“Dancing Through Life,” on the other hand, is the adaptation’s biggest musical accomplishment. Although Wicked is primarily about the relationship between these two women, the charming prince Fiyero always threatens to steal the show, and never more so now that Bridgerton heartthrob Jonathan Bailey is playing him in a dazzling blue/gold suit. Setting this song in a library full of rotating, cylindrical shelves allows the dancers to really show off their moves, while Bailey succeeds at infusing the number with his personality as he flirts with men and women alike. Unless Wicked really hits big with the Academy, it’s unlikely that Bailey will score a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the Oscars, but surely he deserves some honor for being the sexiest actor on Earth at the moment — hope you’re taking notes for next year, PEOPLE! [x]

And Bailey, from his boot-toe book choreography to ovation-worthy gymnastics, is hoofing his way through every step of “Dancing Through Life;” there will be deserved awards attention coming Grande and Erivo’s way for Wicked, and Bailey should be as much a part of the conversation. I can’t remember the last time a performance was so instantly charismatic, the kind of movie-star heist—he nearly runs away with the film during that musical number—that makes going to the cinema so exciting. [x]

A character I was worried about going into this. Jonathan Bailey, he plays Fiyero, who is this kind of just over the top cocky, flamboyant, kind of douchey, but in a fun way character. And there’s just so much there that it could be really easy to mess up. And I didn’t know that he was into song and dance performance, because I’ve only seen him in Bridgerton, so I didn’t know what else was in his repertoire. But I feel like he absolutely crushed that character. You cannot help but love everything he does when he’s on screen. He nails it. [x]

Jonathan Bailey oozes sex appeal and charisma as Fiyero Tigelaar in an utterly swoon-worthy performance, unleashing his West End talents with the dazzling “Dancing Through Life” sequence that cements himself as a true superstar, while his chemistry with both Erivo and Grande is off the charts. [x]

I have to give Jonathan Bailey his freaking flowers. I thought he was going to be good. He got an Olivier award for Company and if you haven't, there is a video of him singing The Last Five Years from years ago….So I was like I think he's going to do a good job, he's also so charming and everybody loves him. I was not prepared to see what we got. The perfomance, the vocals, the gymnastics, the charm, the way he says 'you're perfect' is just engrained in my brain in the right way. And he's so…like he would have chemistry with a chair, I'm convinced. Everyone in 'Dancing Through Life' is now pregnant and so am I. His entire arc of Fiyero being like the daft person and then becoming who he becomes is so clear and every choice, and look, nuances he has…it is calculated but effortless. [x]

Jonathan Bailey delights in the supporting cast as her love interest Fiyero, also offering a fantastic interpretation of someone who hasn’t been called upon too often to be serious but might be willing to give it a try. [x]

“Dancing Through Life” triumphantly translates the joy of seeing Wicked live: Dancers perform acrobatics in rotating circular bookshelves, Jonathan Bailey (who I swear has chemistry with every single person on the planet) taps his way across books with a flippancy perfectly suited to the charismatic prince Fiyero, and the ensemble works (and sings!) in harmony. [x]

Jonathan Bailey uncorks an outrageous scene-stealer as the heterocamp Fiyero, a performance to put alongside Cary Elwes in The Princess Bride. [x]

Chu's usual choreographer, Christopher Scott, delivers again with vibrant, inspired moves, particularly in the elaborate "Dancing Through Life," which takes place in the school's rotating, multilevel library. "Bridgerton" star Jonathan Bailey gets a chance to show off his musical theater background here, and he's terrifically charming as the glib Prince Fiyero, the object of both Elphaba and Galinda's romantic interests. [x]

The true surprise, even more than Grande, is Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, the charming prince with hidden depths that both Galinda and Elphaba gravitate towards. Bailey has such a light comic touch to him and his performance of “Dancing Through Life” might be the best part of the movie, and the most ambitious set piece in the film. [x]

The true standouts are three-fold, with Grande, Erivo, and Bailey embracing the tonal shifts with unbridled glee. […] Fiyero has major bisexual vibes, and chemistry with every single character. Bailey’s take on “Dancing Through Life” lets the Olivier Award-winning actor unleash his sex appeal on a library full of unsuspecting Oz-ites. [x]

Jonathan Bailey adds renegade bravado as the devil-may-care Prince Fiyero, selling the character's journey from apathy to activism with aplomb. [x]

Elsewhere, British heartthrob Jonathan Bailey steals the show as the vain Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, a love interest for both young witches. Bailey effortlessly dances and sings his way through the film’s most demanding musical numbers. [x]

It's Jonathan Bailey who threatens to steal the show though, instantly charming during Flyero's meet-cute with Elphaba. Anybody not swooning already will be with his excellent 'Dancing Through Life' number, Bailey's palpable charisma shining through the extended number which culminates in a reimagined Ozdust Ballroom. [x]

One more: Jonathan Bailey. His dashing Prince Fiyero is one charming prince, so cheeky that he will have boys and girls everywhere swooning. And swoon they do, within the film — it’s a small thing, and not to get all #RepresentationMatters about it, but I was delighted to see Wicked make very clear that both male and female Shiz students are equally lustful whenever Fiyero’s around. There are some deliciously flirtatious moments between Fiyero and some guys during “Dancing Through Life,” and it had me thinking about the fact that, for as fabulously gay as musical theater so often is, you don’t usually see that kind of thing in a massive mainstream film. Kudos all around. [x]

The standout to me: I’m going to go with Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero. He pops up into the film and immediately comes off so cocky, but so charming and likable. Just everybody he talks to, he has this fun rapport and chemistry with them, and just brings to life every scene that he’s in, whether it is just dialogue, joking, dramatic or his big dance number in the library. He’s so good. And it’s one of those things where I am not super familiar with him outside of this, and you just see him and you go - man, that guy is a star, this guy is really good. [x]

And while Wicked is all about is two leading ladies, we must spare a moment or several for Jonathan Bailey’s virile, twinkly Fiyero, who quite literally leaps onto the screen on his horse while clad in tight britches and sturdy riding boots. He’s charming in a way I never found the rather bland character to be onstage, bringing vibrancy to the role as a big screen heartthrob who tears up the floor (and library books) with his aggressive dancing. Now it makes sense that he could turn the head of both Glinda and Elphaba. A West End veteran himself, Bridgerton actor Bailey also boasts an exemplary voice – the casting directors truly spoiled fans here – and there are no exceptions made when every number is treated as a potential show-stopper. [x]

In terms of supporting performances, Bailey’s absolutely dashing and magnetic, giving a star-making performance – a la Rupert Everett’s in MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING. He lights up the screen as the object of romantic affection in screwball-esque scenes shared with Grande as much as he does during the library set number leading “Dancing Through Life.” [x]

Bailey is a charming Fiyero, using all of his Bridgerton swagger in exactly the right ways. He arrives well into the term, a transfer student who has reached the end of the number of schools to be kicked out of. Fiyero is sometimes treated as a throwaway character–the generically hot love interest for two girls to feud over. But this Bailey’s Fiyero will not be so easily dismissed and his “Dancing Through Life,” plays well when accented by talented professional dancers that make the entire scene pop. [x]

Then there’s Jonathan Bailey, who manages to steal the show from his very entrance. Not since Dan Stevens first showed up in The Guest, or perhaps when Glenn Powell out-cruised Tom in Top Gun: Maverick, has there been this much tantalizing testosterone employed in such an effective way. Bailey’s bravura take on Fiyero Tigelaar, the Winkie Prince who sings about “Dancing Through Life,” is by far one of Chu’s most accomplished moments of filmmaking, managing to make the character simultaneously seductive and disarmingly silly. It’s also a moment in Wicked‘s storytelling where there’s fun to be had, and the massive sequence is absolutely a joy that by far exceeds the smaller scope of the on-stage presentation. [x]

Jonathan Bailey is so very “that guy.” His Fiyero doesn’t have the foppish facade of the original. His portrayal makes us aware he’s more complex than he appears from the moment we meet him and his talking horse, but as a Prince Charming, his rizz is high. Who wouldn’t fall in love with Bailey (and who hasn’t)? [x]

Bailey as Fiyero is the ultimate casting as the Lord becomes a Prince. He delves into Fiyero’s shallowness and his moments between Elphaba and Galinda are so starkly different as Bailey plays into both relationships organically with wonderful chemistry between all three. [x]

Jonathan Bailey has a standout musical number with “Dancing Through Life,” and he manages to have chemistry with everyone on screen as the handsome Fiyero. He’s fiercely flirtatious and fun to watch. [x]

Jonathan Bailey could have chemistry with an inanimate object. That man absolutely shines in the role of Fiyero. [x]

But, it’s Bailey’s Fiyero (surprise!) who steals the movie’s second-best scene: the elaborately choreographed “Dancing Through Life.” [x]

Galinda immediately sets her sights on Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey, bringing an outstanding amount of Kenergy to his role). […] And there are certain sequences, specifically Galinda’s signature number “Popular” and Fiyero’s “Dancing Through Life”, where everything does click together nicely and the film suddenly sparks into life. [x]

Jonathan Bailey is absolutely swoony as the flirty Fiyero. While Wicked: Part One is just the beginning of his story, you can already see how Elphaba’s impact is starting to influence him to think more of others versus being shallow and self-consumed. [x]

Jonathan Bailey‘s Fiyero is a joy to watch, and you can see in his physicality and the sparkle in his eyes who he is destined to become. Once we see him dance and sing, he sweeps everyone off their feet. [x]

Fiyero gets one of the film’s most appealing numbers, brilliantly delivered by Bailey, “Dancing Through Life”, as the dashing Prince disturbs the peace of Shiz’s library to entice his classmates to join him for an evening of fun at “the most swankified place in town”, the Ozdust Ballroom. With Bailey gleefully taking on Christopher Scott characterful, silky smooth, choreography, he goes on to offer us seductive glimpses of the more substantial man hiding behind his mask of superficiality. [x]

I can’t say the word scene-stealer without talking about Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero. Give Jonathan Bailey awards, give him every role … for being so amazing in this movie. He is just so effortlessly cool and charming and funny, but I love the heart that he gives certain moments … Fiyero just lives with me now … He enters this movie giving me one of my favourite performances. [x]

The supporting cast proves equally magnificent. Jonathan Bailey’s Fiyero exudes oodles of charisma and a strong voice, easily proving he can handle Christopher Scott’s limber choreography while simultaneously putting his own stamp on it.  While his character plays a more major role in the second film, his introduction, through the stunning “Dancing Through Life” number, leaves a lasting impression and makes for a compelling counterpoint for both leading ladies. [x]

Not to be outdone, Jonathan Bailey of Bridgerton fame plays Fiyero. The heartthrob, almost brainless hunk, who arrives at Shiz and drives so many of the students crazy with lust. Now Bailey’s carefree, but passionate, and decisive in both singing and choreography. With his signature song “Dancing Through Life”, Bailey gets to showcase some awesome footwork, along with amazing vocals, for a scene that is just mesmerizing thanks to the energy and the camera work. [x]

That said, it's BRIDGERTON (2020) star Jonathan Bailey who winds up stealing most of the scenes he's in as the Prince, Fiyero Tigelaar. Bailey is fantastic as the Prince, bringing an entertaining sense of levity and delight to the film. This is to the point that Bailey's absence in the film's finale is quite noticeable, with the film feeling somewhat dull without his presence. [x]

Elsewhere, Jonathan Bailey is charismatic as the dumb-but-charming Fiyero, and there’s a campness to his song-and-dance number, “Dancing Through Life” that will stir the loins in a whole range of viewers. [x]

One standout is Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, the Winkie prince who quickly makes a mark on Shiz after his enrollment. Bailey is not only charming and funny throughout, but exudes an energy that many of the other supporting players simply lack. [x]

Supporting roles are strong too, most notably from Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, full of bravado and fun, as well as a hefty dose of yearning – and fans of Bridgerton will know that no one does yearning like Bailey. His 'Dancing Through Life' is a blast but he's just as powerful in the film's quieter moments as his chemistry with Elphaba burns. [x]

As for the supporting cast, Bailey absolutely shines in his biggest film role to date. Much like Galinda, Fiyero is initially privileged and arrogant, but Bailey instils him with so much undeniable charm that you can easily understand why literally everyone at Shiz is falling under his spell. The seeds are sewn for Fiyero to open up in Part Two, but, for now, Bailey nails it as a seemingly one-dimensional hunk with hidden layers to explore. [x]

The film’s biggest strength is its perfectly cast triple-threat performers – Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba Thropp, Ariana Grande-Butera as Glinda Upland and Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero Tigelaar, a handsome prince whose subplot is best not spoiled. […] The charismatic Bailey, Emmy-nominated for “Fellow Travelers,” is known as the oldest son Anthony in the “Bridgerton�� TV series, but in England, he is also an accomplished musical theater performer. He won an Olivier Award as Best Supporting Actor in a Musical for playing Jamie in the revival of “Company” in 2018. Fleet-footed and a nimble vocalist, he gives Fiyero an allure that wasn’t initially apparent on stage. [x]

Meanwhile, Jonathan Bailey channels his incredible Kenergy to bring the effortlessly charming Fiyero to the screen, with his fun take on “Dancing Through Life” almost stealing the show (someone please give him his own musical!) [x]

The same goes for Fiyero as Jonathan Bailey who makes his male lead into a much stronger character by leaning into the sobering moments as strongly as the lighter ones. [x]

Another pleasant surprise was Bailey as Fiyero. Best-known for his role in “Bridgerton,” Bailey isn’t as well-known for his singing chops, but he deftly carries one the most dazzling musical numbers of the whole show, “Dancing Through Life,” serving up both impressive vocals and dancing. Beyond his musical talent, Bailey is charming and roguish as the Winkie prince, while hinting that there’s a little more to him beyond his care-free persona. Bailey also has the unique ability to have chemistry with practically anyone he’s a romantic lead with, so he has great chemistry with both Grande and Erivo. The few, briefly swoon-worthy interactions between Fiyero and Elphaba specifically will likely have fans excited to see Fiyero and Elphaba’s relationship develop in “Wicked: Part 2.” [x]

[httyd-art-requests]

So the teaser for the live action How To Train Your Dragon film has dropped. Have you seen it? Any thoughts on it?

I just saw it, and BOY do I have some thoughts about it lmao

Live action remakes already annoy me for several reasons, and as much as I want to be excited for "new" HTTYD media, it really misses the mark for me

The movie doesn't look original to me. It's so obviously a remake of something else that it loses any personality it could otherwise have. If the original HTTYD movie had been a live action movie from the start, it would have looked nothing like this, because the creators would have tried to create something that stood out from other movies. This one just feels like a checklist being completed in front of me: "right so we'll have this scene, and then we'll have this scene, and the dragon does this, and the boy does this, and then this is the part the fans like so we're going to recreate it 1:1", but no real understanding of what made the original as beloved as it is.

This trailer just looks soulless to me, but I'm holding out hope that the other trailers will show us more and hopefully prove me wrong

Toothless's design is... fine I guess? They made his hind legs digitegrade for some reason, which just looks very jarring to me. Idk why they felt the need to change it, it's one of the details that made his design feel unique to me. Like dragons' legs are almost always depicted as dinosaur-like and digitegrade, and HTTYD having dragons that have plantigrade legs feels really cool. The wings are comically oversized and he lost a lot of his personality based on the scene recreations shown in the trailer (like the silly People Sit he does in the original, now he just sits like a dog lmao) but it really, really could have been worse.

I slowed it down to catch some of the other dragon species' designs and eeeeeehhhh... They're recognizable, I'll say that. They also lost a lot of the personality that the original models had, they look a lot more uniform in their proportions. I really don't see why making them look "realistic" has to mean that they look more boring, when we have so many animals irl that look fake and made up because of how absurd they look. They could have had more fun with it is what I'm saying

Casting Gerard Butler as Stoick feels like the only actually good decision, his voice as Stoick just can't be recreated. Hiccup's actor is... also fine I guess, no strong feelings whatsoever.

The thing that bothers me the most is the lighting. The original HTTYD movie paid special attention to making the lighting look as realistic and believable as possible. It's atmospheric and helps you get sucked into the world while you watch. "Subdued" is probably a good word to describe it. It very intentionally doesn't go overboard. The lighting in the trailer looks fake as hell. They could be using real actual lighting conditions on set and I still wouldn't believe it's real.

Overall, I have mixed feelings despite all the negative things I just listed. I'm sharing in the excitement of all the people who want to watch it, but I'm still disappointed that it, like, exists at all. No matter what this movie ends up looking like, I'm always going to prefer the original animated movies. I'm open to being proved wrong though, I really hope this movie is going to be better than anything we're imagining rn

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 7

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, oral (male receiving), Dom!Terry, breeding kink, spanking, bondage, degradation, rough sex, slight fluff at the end

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“Get up!” Terry said grabbing my arm. “Ow!” I whined. “Shut the fuck up! You gone have something to cry for soon,” he said looking down at me. We were chest to chest, and the side of my hip was pressed against the dining table. The sexual tension was becoming more and more unbearable as Terry's eyes burned into mine. “Just remember I love you, kitten,” he said leaning into my ear. His gaze darkened with lust and became penetrating and menacing.

It was as if Terry could see right through me. I fiddled with my hands while my gaze fell to the ground. “What's wrong, kitten? Are you nervous? Huh?” he asked lifting my chin to meet his gaze. I looked away quickly. I was unsure of how to answer that. I was slightly nervous but wasn't about to let him know.

“No, sir,” I said locking eyes with him. “Good. I don't want you to be nervous.— I want you to be fuckin' terrified,” he said pushing me onto the kitchen table, so I was flat on my back. He leaned over me and snatched the tie from the curtains. “Don't fuckin' move!” he yelled as he grabbed my hands. He tied the rope around my wrists with my palms together.

Terry’s hands moved through the side slit of my dress. Locating my panties, I felt his fingers loop around the seat of the fabric. “Y’know… I honestly don't understand why you still wear’em. I’m just gonna rip… them off!” he said snatching them from my body. The sound of the fabric ripping was deafening as it coursed through my eardrums. The kitchen table slammed into the wall forcefully.

The level of excitement and arousal I was experiencing was astronomical. I couldn't think of anything that would ever top this. His dick hadn't even touched me yet, and I was losing my mind. The heightened intensity of Terry's aggression was animalistic in nature, provoking a craving I had never felt. My heart was pounding, my skin was tingling, and my pussy was throbbing uncontrollably. He was tha much closer to fully unleashing the fervid beast within him. I was really about to let this man do whatever the fuck he wanted to me— no holds barred.

Before I could react, I was tossed over Terry’s shoulder. His arm looped around my waist as he carried me with no effort. My bound hands were hitting the back of Terry’s legs as he ascended the stairs. “Terry!” I whimpered. “Ye… What did you just call me?” Terry snapped as his movements ceased. We were positioned at the top of the stairs.

“That's not my name. You know better,” Terry said placing me on my feet before him. I staggered before regaining my balance. “Sorry— ,” I said taking a deep breath. “So, you're gonna refuse to say it? Is that what we're doing? Oh, I hope you know… I honestly do. You're asking for it, baby!” Terry said stepping closer to me. “I don't deserve respect. Is that what your tellin' me? You don't respect me?” Terry asked grabbing my chin. “Look at me when I'm talkin' to you!” Terry yelled. “Sorry—. Sorry, Daddy. I won't do it again,” I said looking Terry directly in the eyes. “Oh, that's not gonna work. On your knees, then apologize!” Terry said snapping at the floor. From that move alone, I didn't know whether I was shocked, offended, or turned on.

I looked down at the floor. I balanced my hands in front of me before slowly getting on my knees. I rested my weight on my calves and held my hands in my lap. “I'm sorry, Daddy. Forgive me for not calling you by your proper name,” I said letting my gaze linger on Terry's feet. “Unfortunately, apologies mean nothing to me. Actions speak louder than words. Let's go!” Terry said snatching me up by my arm.

He pulled me towards the open door of the master bedroom. He was practically dragging me in. He turned towards me and looped his arm around my waist., pushing me towards the bed. I sat at the foot of the bed and anxiously watched Terry's every move. He leaned over me, bringing his mouth to my ear. His hands fumbled with the knots that secured the rope around my wrists. “Strip,” he rumbled through gritted teeth.

I flexed my freed wrists as I slowly pushed the top of my dress down. The fabric bundled up around my hips like a cloud. Terry's eyes fell to my breasts. I lifted my hips to push the dress off and onto the floor. “This is your last chance to back out. Whatchu gone do, huh? I'm not gonna force you. If you're scared, let me know now,” he said standing to his full height. I held my breath as I struggled to formulate an answer. Unfortunately for me, my mouth was still in brat mode.

“Do I look scared? Or, are you just too weak to finish what you started? Don't use me as an excuse,” I said looking under my lashes at Terry. His stance stiffened as he began clenching and unclenching his fists. I watched his hands intently. I knew he wanted to hem my thick ass up.

Terry's face was obscure of emotions, almost indecipherable. I couldn't tell if he was pissed or impressed. He closed his eyes slowly and released a silent breath. His head rolled on his shoulders as if he was loosening up. I pulled my legs under me and began scooting back on the bed. Yeah, I fucked up. Terry's eyes opened and his irises had darkened to bronze. Shit! A menacing smirk spread across his face. All pretenses of softness and kindness were no longer present. “Terry” was gone.

Terry walked away and stepped into the closet. I could hear him searching through bags. He reappeared with two sets of handcuffs. Without saying a word, he used one hand and grabbed both of mine. He pulled me by arms and up to the headboard. He leaned over me and handcuffed me to it. Each hand outstretched away from me and restricting my movements. Terry pulled my body up slightly so my back was against the headboard. I was positioned in a t-pose.

He stood up beside the bed, looking down at me. “You look so pretty when you're scared, Mama. Too fuckin' pretty, honestly. Those lips, eyes, and this body do something to me. Something so carnal that I don't think I'll ever get enough of you,” he said rubbing his hands up and down my body. Soft, firm squeezes followed his gentle caresses. “Too bad, though. ‘Cause tonight I want you sloppy, disgusting, nasty even,” he said kissing my lips. I let out a small moan as I was being sucked into this fantasy, so quickly and so intensely.

Terry's hands moved down to my thighs and rubbed slowly. His hand slipped between my legs. The tips of his fingers grazed the lips of my pussy. I was beginning to squirm under his touch. “Please, do something. Anything!” I whimpered. Terry's eyes slowly rose to meet mine. He laughed at my begging. “You're gonna wish you neva said that,” he said as he climbed onto the bed. His legs rested on each side of my waist so he was straddling me.

“Look at me,” he said lifting my chin. He pushed the pillows between my back and the headboard before moving up a little more so that he was right in front of me. I was at eye level with his dick print. “I want you paralyzed by the end of the night. I want your throat sore, pussy swollen, and ass stinging. Since you like talkin' back, let's start with that throat,” Terry said unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. Naked and afraid was an understatement for how I was feeling.

He pulled down his pants and boxers altogether so they were resting on his thighs. His dick was already hard as a brick. His enjoyment was evident from the amount of precum leaking from his tip. “Open!” Terry barked. My eyes tracked the movements of his dick, swaying in my face.

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue while making eye contact with Terry. He placed his hand at the base of his dick and began rubbing it across my tongue. I could feel his precum dripping on my tongue. “You don't even realize what I'm about to do to you,” he said pushing his entire dick into my mouth without warning. I gagged around him. “Unh unh, what you gaggin’ for? You don't remember what you did that night? Why can't you handle this dick now?” Terry said fucking my mouth. My head was pressed against the headboard as he used me. Spit bubbles were forming as drool pooled from the corners of my mouth.

He was using my mouth like a pussy. I would probably be drowning in my saliva if I wasn’t sitting up. I wanted to smile so bad, but his dick was starting to hit the back of my throat with force. I moaned around his dick and slurped up the spit seeping from the corners of my mouth. “Oh, you like this. Don't you, you nasty bitch!” Terry said smiling down at me. His hand snaked around the back of my head, acting as a barrier between my head and the headboard.

Unbeknownst to me, he was locking me into a fixed position. He placed his other hand on the wall above the bed. Using this position as leverage, Terry's thrust grew harder. I couldn't move my head even if I wanted to. THIS WAS THE EPITOME OF FACE FUCKING. I opened my mouth wider and began breathing through my nose. I relaxed my throat as much as possible, but it was getting hard. Terry's head fell back. The grunts and moans he let out were fueling me to keep going. I had never heard Terry's moans become this deep— not even the first night.

Tears were falling from my eyes as I clamped them shut. I was taking this shit like a fuckin' champ. Terry pulled back a little to release his dick from my mouth, causing me to gasp for air. “Spit and breathe,” Terry ordered. I opened my mouth, letting all of his precum and my saliva fall from my mouth. “Good girl. Don't relax, yet. I'm not done wit’ you yet,” he said pushing his dick back in.

Terry was keeping his promise. My throat was getting sorer the more he thrust. That's when I realized what he did. He wasn't giving me a fuckin' breather or break; he was edging himself so that he could keep going. This man really was a monster!

“Oh, you can handle it. Right, Big Mama?” he laughed. The look he was giving me was so devious. He knew what the fuck he was doing. I clenched my fists, tugging at the cuffs. His thrusts slowed, and his hips stiffened. He grabbed the hair at the back of my head. He yanked my head back and pulled out. He palmed his dick, aiming it at my open mouth. His cum spewed out in milky ropes. It landed on my tongue and lower face. “That's it, baby. Nasty just how I like it,” Terry groaned rubbing his dick through his cum and smearing it all over my face.

Terry slid back from me and got off the bed. He stood on the side of the bed and finished undressing himself. I took full advantage of this break to recollect myself. Terry turned back to face me and undid the cuffs. He placed them on the nightstand. Turning away from me, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me to the center of the bed. I gasped in shock. What the hell was he about to do now?

“Turn over and arch!” Terry demanded. I turned over and arched my ass in the air. “I can't wait to see what you look like after this,” he said palming my ass. Getting back onto the bed, Terry positioned himself behind me. I was still a bit confused by Terry's statement. What did he mean by that?

Before I could finish my thoughts, Terry's hand came down on my left ass cheek.

smack

“Shit! No warning, Daddy?” I whimpered. “What for? There's nothing you can't handle, remember?” Terry mocked. He was definitely about to make me eat my words.

smack

“Sorry, two!” I yelled looking back at Terry. He scoffed at me. “Fuck you countin’ for? I'm not stoppin’ ‘til I'm tired,” Terry laughed. I know that fear was etched on my face, but there wasn’t anything I could do but take it.

smack

Over 20 smacks later

Terry was unleashing hell with every hit, causing me to lose count. Honestly, he was right. There was no point in counting. So when I got to 23, I stopped. I was too far gone to remember or focus, and maybe he knew I would be.

My face was in the sheets, and my tears were creating a wet spot beneath me. “You done talkin' shit, or do we need to keep goin’?” he asked. “No, I'm sorry!” I begged. “That's what the fuck I thought!” Terry grunted back.

The entire time he was spanking me his dick was pressed against my ass and pussy. I could feel every movement he made, no matter how small. He was definitely getting off on this, and so was I. As much as I was enjoying this, I wanted Terry inside me. NOW! I needed him. I felt like I was on fire. If you told me I would find pleasure in getting my ass beat, I wouldn't have believed a word you said. This was different— a good different. A different I could get used to.

I was in my head when I felt Terry's hands in my hair again. “Hey, do you hear me talkin' to you?” he snapped. Fuck! I had no clue what this man had said to me. Pleasure had taken over, and I had dissociated for a moment. “Sorry,” I whimpered out. “Breathe. I need you alive. You can die on your own time,” he said. I could literally hear him smiling.

I looked back over my shoulder with my eyebrows knitted together. “Fix your face, or do I need to?” he asked rubbing his hands all over my ass. He drew his hand back. “No!” I screamed, pushing away.“Aww, look at you! Who's scared, now? Huh?” he laughed. I hated it when he laughed like this. It pissed me off to no end. It made me feel like he was laughing at me.

“Shut up and fuck me already!” I yelled. I paused at my own remark. I was so caught up in the thought of him laughing at me that I probably made my biggest mistake of the night. “I mean… I was gonna do that anyway. But now… imma fuck the shit outta you, so don't run,” Terry said grabbing my hips. He reached between us and placed his dick at my entrance.

I knew not to expect him to take it easy. He pushed in without stopping and instantly bottomed out. “Fuck!” I moaned. Every inch of him was buried inside of me. I leaned forward, trying to find relief. “Nah, where you goin’? You told me to shut up and fuck you, right? So, whatchu runnin’ for?” Terry said pulling me back.

His hips went to work. There was no build-up or time to adjust. “Daddy! Oh, shit!” I shrieked. Terry's dick was hitting spots I didn't know I had. My pussy began clenching around him. “Ahh, fuck! You good pussy havin’ bitch!” Terry mumbled. How the fuck was I this close? He had just entered me, and I was already close to cumming. How?!

Terry pounded into me like he was trying to make a second hole. I put my hand behind me, reaching for his stomach. Without a word, he grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back. If he kept pounding me like this, there was no way I was lasting longer than a few minutes.

I could feel Terry moving behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at the full-length mirror in the corner. Terry turned back around to see me looking at him. As soon as that smirk returned, I knew he was up to no good.

His arms looped through mine as he lifted me from the bed. He carried me to stand in front of the mirror. “Mama, we need to have a serious talk. You remember what I asked you for earlier?” he asked. “What are you talkin' about, Daddy?” I questioned in confusion. “Having my baby. Remember that?” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes, but…” I started to speak before he cut me off. “But nothing. Here's the deal, Mama. You can't cum until you agree to it,” he said reaching between us.

He pushed himself back in, causing us both to moan in unison. “Damn it. That's not fair. Ahh, fuck!” I moaned. “Life isn't fair, baby girl. I told you what I wanted, and you ain't leavin’ this room ‘til I get it,” he said bending me over. He was once again fucking me mercilessly. Bottoming out with every stroke. His thrusts were not letting up. “Look at yourself. Come on, look!” Terry said gripping my hair. He pulled me up so my back was against his chest. Finally slowing down his strokes, he forced me to look in the mirror. “Tell me we wouldn't make some pretty babies? Unh unh, look. Don't close those eyes. Look at yourself, pretty girl. You tellin' me you wouldn't want a little you runnin’ around? Huh?” Terry asked while still slowly fucking me. The pleasure I felt was more intense than anything I had ever experienced. I don't know if it was the mirror or a combination of tonight's activities, but something was making me delirious. Here I was once again succumbing to the sorcery of Terry's dick.

“Talk to me. You want me to call you Big Mama, right? Right? That's what you want, Mama?” Terry asked speaking directly into my ear. The warmth of his breath radiated through my body. It was like I could feel everything— the way every vein in Terry's dick was protruding, the way the muscles in my pussy were contracting, the way Terry's balls smacked against my pussy, and the way I was surrendering to my own pleasure.

“Fuck it! Cum in me, Daddy. I want it!” I yelped. I needed to cum badly, and I could tell Terry needed to, too. His strokes were getting sloppy, and his hips were stuttering. “Yeah, you want Daddy to fill you up?” Terry said kissing my neck. “Yes, please. Cum in me. I wanna… ahhh…. I wanna have your baby!” I yelled. “ Then, take this dick, baby girl. You can do it,” Terry said, grabbing my hips. He reached around and began rubbing my clit while maintaining his pace— slow and deep. “I’m cumming,” I said panting. “I know, baby. I know. So is Daddy,” Terry said tightening his grip on my waist.

With one final thrust, Terry and I both came undone. His arms held me in place as his head fell on my shoulders. His embrace was strong and intentional like he was seeking completion.

Minutes passed as we stood there in bliss, coming down from our highs. Terry's arms slowly loosened from around me. I stumbled a little, almost falling forward. “You good?” Terry asked, turning me around to face him. “Yeah. My legs hurt. Well,… truth be told, all of me hurts,” I giggled. “It's okay. Daddy's gotcha,” Terry said, picking me up bridal style.

He walked back to the bed and gently sat me in the center before lying beside me. “Come here, Mama. I know I chose a crazy moment to bring up babies. But, let me know now. Were you serious?” he questioned. I laid back and put my leg over Terry's waist. “I mean… I don't know. I wanna say no, but deep down, I wanna say yes, too. Maybe?… You don't think it's too soon?” I questioned back, laying my head on his shoulder. “Babygirl, the choice is yours to make. Your body, your choice. If you feel it's too soon, that's fine with me. I can wait,” he said kissing my forehead. “Do you really want to be a father?” I asked him. “I've always wanted to be a dad. I just never felt comfortable enough to do it,” he said looking down at me. “So, what's making you so comfortable now?” I challenged. “You don't get it. Do you?” he asked, smiling down at me. “Get what?” I asked.

Terry lifted me so that I was straddling his waist. “You don't see yourself the way I see you. You exude this aura of love and kindness that draws people to you. Your love language is love itself. And to me, you are love… I hope that makes sense,” Terry said stroking my cheek. “It… it does,” I said as I started to cry. “Oh, no. Mama, I didn't wanna make you cry. I just wanted you to know how much I love you,” Terry said pulling me into a hug. “I love you, too. That was… that was just… a lot… for me,” I stuttered between sobs.

Terry's arm engulfed me deeper into his embrace. This was probably the safest and most loved I had ever felt. So, maybe, just maybe… ONE WON'T HURT.

Taglist: @persethegawd @kimuzostar @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld

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@qtmkenedy03 @prettypink-princesss @teeresaresa

[cottonlemonade]

Long Distance Relationship

word count: 970 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University AU!Kageyama x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none

request: hi! can i get a 32 and a 33 for lunch and then study with kageyama? thank you i'm so excited! xx || fluffy, 2.16am LDR with boyfriend Kageyama

You stretched and heard a pop that you didn’t know if it came from your neck or the rickety old desk chair. It was late, a quick phone check told you it was 2 in the morning. A wide yawn spread over your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, then blinked a few times to get your vision back into focus. You had stopped comprehending any of the sentences in front of you hours ago but hoped that through sheer willpower and the mere fact that you had the decency to pretend to study, it would all work out in the end. Your eyes fell onto your lock screen, lit up briefly by some spam mail. It showed a picture of you and your boyfriend Tobio with your heads stuck together, each holding a small carton of milk while squinting into the sun. It was one of your favorites because of the way he scrunched his nose. When you were accepted to different universities your heart had broken a little but you promised each other you’d be the high school sweethearts that beat the odds. You had nothing to worry about with him. The only other love he’d ever known was volleyball and besides that, you and breathing, Tobio didn’t pay anything much mind. The first year at university worked out great. You usually met right in the middle between Tokyo and Kyoto every other weekend so neither of you had to do the 3-hour train ride each way and could spend a bit more time together. Plus, those tickets were cheaper, meaning you could see each other more often. Your heart began to ache when you thought of your last get-together and how you didn’t want to let him go at the station, how he almost missed his train because he couldn’t stop kissing you, and how you both held back your tears until the other was out of sight. Because in your second year, the workload became greater and meeting became more difficult, you hadn’t seen him in over three weeks. However, the little countdown of days right next to the time, now in the single digits, gave you a little hope. Your roommate snored softly and turned around in her bed. You checked the lamp again to make sure it wasn’t pointed directly at her.

A rush went through your body when your phone buzzed and you picked up immediately.

“Hey you, why are you still up?”, you said quietly.

“I- Hi.”

“Hi.”, you grinned. Your fatigue was completely wiped away. It was so nice to hear his voice and you were barely able to contain your excitement.

“I was wondering how your day went.”

“At 2 am?”

“… yes.”

“Well, it’s much better now thank you, how about you? You sound out of breath. Were you jogging? At this time of night? That’s dangerous, baby, please get back as soon as possible.”

“I’m still quite a bit away but I’ll let you know when I’m home.”, he muttered and his tone made you smile.

You knew exactly what he looked like right now - hand in his pocket, probably looking at the tip of his shoe drawing random patterns on the ground.

“I miss you.”, you said into the silence that followed.

“I miss you, too.”

“But hey, only”, you briefly lifted your phone away from your ear to check, “9 more days until we see each other again, right?”

“Yeah uhm… about that…”

“You’re not gonna make it?”, you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“No no, it’s not that. Uhm, which was your dorm room again?”

“Second floor, third from the left, why?” Your heart did a tentative little bounce.

Something that sounded very much like a pebble on glass tapped against your window. You stood up and almost tripped trying to see out into the night. There, taking a few steps back so he would be seen in the cone of light from the campus lantern stood your boyfriend, wearing his favorite sweats and the hoodie you had given him for your last anniversary. You clasped a hand over your mouth to not squeak too loudly and Tobio heard scrambling on the other end. Half a minute later the lights in the foyer went on, then the front door opened and you stood there with only one slipper and a sweater that was inside out. He jogged over to you.

“What are you- how are you- oh my god, you’re here!”

He buried his face in your shoulder when you pulled him in for a long, tight hug.

You collected your second shoe on the way back up to your room and settled into your bed. Tears were welling in your eyes at his familiar smell as you drew him close. Too precious to waste with much else, you combed your fingers through his hair, while Tobio tried his best to be as close to you as humanly possible. He wrapped himself securely around your soft, squishy form. There was little talking involved, cuddling and the occasional gentle kiss were all that mattered. It was cozy and familiar being in each other’s arms like this and you wished the moment would never end. You could have fallen asleep but just as you were happily drifting off with the comforting scent of his shampoo brushing your nose a phone buzzed. Tobio made a low grumbling noise against your neck.

“I have to go.”, he whispered. The clock on your roommate’s nightstand showed 4 am.

“No, stay…”

“I want to. But I can’t…”, he didn’t make any attempts to move, just kept mumbling against you, “I have training in a few hours.”

He looked up at you, sleepy but so so happy. “And we’ll meet again in 9 days, right?”

a/n: request for @haikyuusunsalad

This was the softest prompt ever oh my gosh 🥺🥺 thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it!

[milykins]

Ask for requests and ye shall receive! I'm not good at writing requests so bear with me lol. It's a silly Raph x reader scenario I've had in my head for a minute. It's the dead of winter and reader is going to the lair absolutely freezing 'cause its snowing out. Once reader gets there, they see Raph working out and looking very warm...it'd be a real shame it someone with freezing hands where to try to steal that body warmth >:3

Thank you for the ask! It was a fun prompt. I hope this is what you had in mind!

Raph×Reader

No warnings - rated E for everyone

Special thanks to @sophiacloud28 for beta reading this!

Cold Hands

Your fingers were numb. You couldn’t feel your face either. You haven’t for about fifteen minutes since you made the stupid decision to walk home from work. Miserably forcing your way through the snow, you were unsure if you still had feet or two large blocks of ice. You hated being cold, especially this cold. Mustering the effort you kept going, huffing out clouds of vapour. Only a few more minutes to the manhole cover.

With shaking fingers you hooked the metal tool for lifting it into the holes. “C’mon…” it seemed to take longer this time, adding to your frustration.

You slipped in before it was fully open. You could care less about the ping Donnie would get from leaving it ajar. It’s far too cold and your concern for hypothermia was outweighing everything.

You needed warmth and you had your sights set on your favourite bruiser.

The lair was surprisingly quiet. Good. There was only one person you wanted to see after that lovely walk.

Shaking the remaining snow from your coat, you threw it haphazardly on the nearest chair. Exposing your poor feet to the sudden warmth brought forth a gasp of discomfort. Your toes and fingers tingled like fire as your warmed blood worked through the frozen appendages.

The set temperature of the lair was not enough to really help you feel normal again. You needed him.

You located Raphael in the weight room. He appeared to be part-way through his workout, standing and facing away from you. He was grunting softly to himself, clearly associated with power-lifting a couple of massive weights. Despite how cold you were still, it was hard not to appreciate him for a moment. The way his muscles bunched and tensed. The rivulets of sweat from his efforts.

He'd once told how much weight he could curl and the amount was staggering. Around five hundred pounds effortlessly on a good day. The man certainly took his workouts seriously, that was for sure.

Watching how hot he looked, literally and figuratively, a devilish thought entered your mind. You shouldn’t, oh, but you were going to. This was perfect, and you knew he wouldn’t hear you.

Excitement building, you slowly approached, hands at the ready, craving that body heat only he could give. Without warning, you yanked his mask tails to get him right where you wanted him, placing those freezing hands of yours right where his neck met his carapace.

The sound that came out of Raph was nothing short of hilarious. It was a cross between a gasp and a cry, with in an expletive added in for good measure.

“Aaagh! The FUCK?!”

You firmly held your freezing hands in place while the dumbbells slipped from his, hitting the floor with a couple of two separate loud thumps. Thankfully, it was protected by a thick, rubber mat, or they would’ve left a couple of dents.

He turned his head sharply to look at you, eyes narrowing considerably that you’d interrupted his workout like this.

Smiling innocently, you just shrugged. “I… I was cold… and you looked so hot.”

Always a sucker for praise his bunched shoulders dropped and the hint of a smile was forming. You knew he couldn’t be too mad at you.

Removing his wireless headphones, he hung them on a spare hook and turned, taking your smaller hands in his massive ones. The warmth of them drawing a small sigh of relief from you.

“Cold, eh?” Looking at you finally, he noticed your still-flushed cheeks and echoes of melted snow in your eyelashes and hair.

“Baby, did you walk?” His expression quickly changed to one of concern. “Why didn’t ya Uber it?”

You gave him a half-hearted shrug with the decency to look a little ashamed. “The weather was too bad… I would’ve been waiting an hour, so I decided to bite the bullet and walk.”

Releasing one of your hands, he brushed his knuckles across your cheek, still able to feel to lingering chill. “Ya shoulda waited… this type of weather isn’t great for me. It’ll basically cause me to slow down and sleep. You, on the other hand, could lose a finger or somethin’.”

Eyes fluttering closed a moment, you leaned closer. You craved the heat radiating from his body. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m gonna rack these, hold on.” He turned, hefting those huge dumbbells onto a custom-made rack. “Half a workout it is. I gotta get you warmed up.”

You begin to protest. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him this much. “B-but, Raph, you don’t have to-.“

He silenced you with a kiss and slid his arms under your back and legs to draw you right up against his solid form. “I need a shower anyway.”

And that was that. He was already taking long strides to the bathroom. You shivered in excitement that had nothing to do with how cold you’d been. He was heading to the one with the huge walk-in shower that you adored. Unsurprisingly, you couldn’t find a single reason to argue with him.

“I guess a shower doesn’t sound so bad… as long as I have you to keep me company…” You wrapped your arms around him pulling yourself up just enough to squish your cold cheek against his warm one.

Raph shivered a little before moving on. “Oh, that’s something you never gotta worry about sweetheart… warming you up is my specialty. Plus, those ice picks you called hands were absolutely criminal.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that teasing smirk of his.

“So, I can’t steal your body heat when I’m cold?” You were really playing it up, sticking your bottom lip out and giving him those ‘eyes’.

He kissed your pout and chuckled low in his throat. “Maybe not when I’m doin’ curls, alright? Yer lucky I didn’t drop those damn weights on your feet.”

Laughing more, you nodded. “Deal, now undress me and get me in that shower.”

He growled softly as he brought you in. Closing and locking the door behind himself he was fully intent on a making good on that promise.

Things had never been hotter between the two of you.

End

Until the next ask! This is the first of three!

Taglist

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please ask if you'd like me to add you to the taglist

[777heavengirl]

the one with the post mortem

sirius black x reader ! - 1,244 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: i cant tell if i like this or not but its the only thing I've been able to put out in days and its... yea no comment. also pls refer to this post about my update schedule and what I'm dealing w rn!

“You’re a bloody idiot Padfoot” James paced back and forth, hands on his hips as he scolded Sirius. “I just don't understand what you were thinking- they could’ve killed you”

“It's just a bruise Prongs can we relax here?” Sirius sighed as he held the frozen pea package to his face, he could already feel the tender skin around his eye bruising. The splitting headache he was now suffering from made him cringe as James's voice boomed around the living room.

“I think what James means to say is that-” You said as you walked back from their kitchen with tea in your hands, seamlessly passing the hot mug from your hands into his as you sat next to him on the Potter’s couch. “We are thankful it didn’t go past some shouting and a punch- Right James”

“Fuck no-”

“Come on-”

“No! It’s just-” James rubbed his temple, a frown etched deep within his features “Don’t put yourself back on their radar Sirius, I don't understand why you would want to go in the first place! You hated the woman!”

“We just don’t think it was the smartest idea to waltz into the funeral honey-” Lily said while rubbing circles mindlessly over her pregnant belly, her baby blue peplum top barely hiding the bottom slivers of her belly as she leaned back in her plush chair.

You stared at her round belly, a fleeting giddiness passing through you at the thought of the baby arriving soon. You had been scared you'd send her into labor when you knocked, dragging a bruised Sirius in, but she remained the calmest you had ever seen her, merely sighing as the two of you tumbled inside. Like it was just any other day. You guessed having James Potter as her husband meant he often brought home some excitement, to say the least.

“And then you also had the bloody brilliant idea of bringing y/n with you-”

“James-”

“No,” He shook his head, brown eyes staring straight into yours. “He shouldn’t have brought you! For Godric’s sake, they know you’re a muggle-born y/n! Merlin knows what they could’ve done-” 

“I convinced him to let me go with him, James! I wasn’t going to let him go alone-” James continued to lecture you, you did your best to concentrate on his words. But all you could focus on was Sirius's blank stare towards the floor.

You knew James's lecture came from a place of love and care. James was so much like his mother, you could almost see her. The way he argued with his hands on his hips, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. Nothing but care and love, and worry seeped into his words. You knew he meant well, you knew he just did not understand why Sirius couldn’t just leave it alone. It frustrated James, it always had. They were brothers, no one could deny that. But a piece of Sirius, small and deep within him, hidden from the world, would always belong to the most honorable House of Black.

And it not only tore Sirius apart but James too. 

As much as Sirius was a part of his family, as much as he called Euphemia mum and Fleamont dad, as much as they were brothers in every way but blood. As much as they had built many memories together, happy Christmases, and bountiful birthdays, with many more to come. Endless days together, growing old together, like brothers, like family. Hell, Sirius was in the Potter’s family portrait. But even through all of this, they could never erase Sirius’s past. It would always be there, like an ugly inky stain on an otherwise pristine white shirt.

But you understood. Somehow. You knew what it felt like, the need to go crawling back to the parent that makes you feel worthless, hoping and praying it'll be different each time. 

Sirius craved to be seen by his mother just as much as you did your father.

You guessed that was why you didn’t fight him on going, why you decided to go with him. 

“He’s right,” the room went quiet as you all turned to look at Sirius, his eyes were now closed, one covered by the frozen bag. He felt exhausted, like his arms and legs were made of lead, his heart felt heavy with guilt and grief. “I shouldn’t have agreed to let you come, hell- I shouldn’t have gone in the first place but that’s my bullshit to deal with, not yours, love” 

You scoffed, “Since when do we deal with bullshit alone-”

“Since you decided that we needed to lead separate lives y/n” He snapped now, dropping the bag on his lap as he turned to look at you. 

“Oh grow up Sirius” You turned away now, away from how his features twisted in frustration and regret. You did your best to keep your face flat and monotone, afraid to let even a single sliver of emotion slip through. You hadn’t talked about it, yet. Avoiding the theme altogether for the last couple of days since he came home. But the tension was there, palpable and thick. It permeated every conversation and every interaction. It made everything feel heavy, the way that rain would drench and turn your clothes heavy. 

You couldn’t take the silence anymore, with a sigh you got up, pulling down the edge of your black dress. Lily and James merely stared, wide-eyed and shocked at the outburst from the both of you. 

“I’ll see you two later-” Your words had barely rang out as you apparated away, the faintest crack of the air following you. 

Sirius groaned, dropping his face into his hands. 

“So no, you haven’t fixed it yet-”

“It’s not that easy Prongs,” Sirius melted into the couch, fingers tracing patterns into the corduroy. 

“Why?” Lily stared at Sirius, a glint in her eye that was no stranger to Sirius. He narrowed his eyes at the red-head. “Why isn’t it easy Sirius? She loves you an obscene amount- watching the two of you is gross”

“What are you talking about Lilykins?” Sirius played with the edges of the soggy bag of peas, a childish pout on his lips.

“Lils is right, the two of you are worse than we are and we are married pads,” James sat on the arm of Lily’s armchair. Sirius scoffed-

“Come off it- no one’s worse than you two” They both rolled their eyes, a small smile on their lips they tried to repress. 

“I’m not wrong though- the two of you are disgustingly cute- always fawning over each other, whispering things to the other- you know you should really confess Sirius, tell her how you feel-” Sirius sat up, eyes wide,

“Tell her how I feel? Is pregnancy melting your brain Evans?”

“Oi! It’s Potter now, thank you very much-” James feigned hurt but Lily burst into laughter,

“God- the two of you are meant for each other,” James and Sirius stared dumbly at Lily, uncontrollable laughter shaking her body, she slapped James’s thigh excitedly “You really do- I can’t believe, Merlin-” She continued to laugh, starting to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes as she let out full spurts of laughter. “I can’t believe the two of you said the same thing-”

But as fast as she started she suddenly stopped with a small, oh, green eyes wide-

“W-what is it-” James stood, staring at his wife “Is everything okay?”

“I either just peed myself" Lily grabbed onto James's forearm to attempt to stand up from her recliner chair "or my water broke— currently leaning towards the latter” 

“Oh fuck-”

taglist ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine

let me know if you wanna be added ! or if i missed you

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 3

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: heavy Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, crude humor, violence, swearing

summary: Since being saved by Wade after your encounter with Cassandra, Logan makes you lead the way in the wasteland in hopes you know where they are.

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Per-chance I may have disappeared but that doesn't mean I won't finish this story, sorry for being gone so long, please forgive me with this 2000 word update! Enjoy the long awaited part 3

Currently the three of you were all walking through a grassy field, Wade was annoying Logan like usual as you walked in front of them—to be completely honest you were exactly sure where you were going but you knew you’d get there.

It was like the blind leading the blind but they didn't know that.

As they continued to discuss whatever...dumb things Wade could produce, a loud bark rang in the distance, seemingly catching everyone's attention.

You looked forward, as a strange little dog began to run into view. It was ugly, in an oddly cute way, it's tongue jumping up and down with each step it took.

Logan had a disgusted look on his face, while Wade seemed star struck. Wade began to take his mask off, his mouth agape; as the dog got closer the man fell to his knees, and opened his arms, letting the creature jump up on him and lick his face.

"Look at you!" Wade exclaimed, clearly excited, "She's coming with us,"

"No she's not," The man in yellow protested, obviously not wanting the extra company.

While they bickered you took the opportunity to get a closer look at the dog, it made a strange noise as you did. Although you could tell it enjoyed the affection it was being given.

"Sorry, sorry about that girl!" A voice rang, the group turning to look, saw a, what seemed to be more attractive Deadpool with long hair.

You looked between both men, confused at seeing two Deadpool's at once, more so one that said 'sorry' upon first interaction, "Who are you?" Wade asked, noticeably confused.

The other man stopped for a second to catch his breath, "Oh, I'm Deadpool, and I guess you're Deadpool too," He gestured to the Wade you've been traveling with, "But in here, everybody calls me 'Nicepool'."

You snickered at the name, the thought of a nice Deadpool now in your mind.

"Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous," Nicepool began to ramble on, "She just had a baby too and.. woosh. Can't even tell." He told you guys, making a gesture with his hands to show you guys what he meant.

Logan gave him a confused face, while Wade added on, "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"That's okay," Nicepool told you three, as his right hand went over his heart, "I identify as a feminist."

No longer being able to hold in your laughter from this entire interaction you let out an audible snort/chuckle.

All three men looked at you, Wade had a subtle hint of amusement within his eyes, Logan was just confused and Nicepool looked disappointed you'd laugh at the fact he's a feminist.

"Right," Wade said, deadpanning. Before he suddenly perked up, his attention caught by something, "Are those gold-plated 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistoleros?"

" 'Course, to match my ear huggie," Nicepool responded, a smile on his face while he showed off his gold.

"Can I have 'em?" Wade asked, sounding like a child wanting to open their birthday gifts early.

Nicepool laughed at him, "Over my dead body!" He responded still smiling.

You grimaced at the man, "You're gonna regret saying that to him.." you said, knowing Wade would take it seriously.

"You're fun!" He said looking between you and Wade, "And I guess you've already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you touch her, she's 90% g-spot and she'll let you know it."

You looked back at the dog as Wade adjusted her in his arms.

"You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa!" Nicepool exclaimed, still smiling throughout the whole interaction.

You looked back towards Wade only to see Mary Puppins licking his lips and mouth, slightly disturbed by the strange sight.

"If you can't be a responsible pet owner then maybe you don't deserve this little unicorn!" Wade spoke as if a dog wasn't literally eating at his face.

Nicepool only smiled at him and put his hands together, "Guilty on all charges your honor. Shan't happen again" Nicepool bowed to Wade.

"Why are you so nice?" Wade asked, confused why this alternative version of him was so strange.

Nicepool once again smiled at him, "It cost nothing to be kind."

"Shutting the fuck up is also free," Logan added on, seemingly annoyed at the fact he was surrounded by technically three Deadpool's.

"Caliente!"

"This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he let himself go since the divorce." Wade introduced as he tilted his head towards Logan, "And this little thing right here is Y/N, they're our little time jumper!" You wave a small wave, not wanting to be rude. Nicepool gave you a smile.

"Where's your mask?" Wade asked, a look of suspicion and maybe even a hint of envy on his face.

Nicepool, although still smiling, gave a confused look before regaining his happy demeanor, "Come on guys," He pointed at his face, a knowing look on his face.

Logan just looked disgusted and Wade was annoyed, "Ugh this guy, we're looking for a group of survivors."

"Oh they're out there, but merc to merc, you better hope you don't run into the Deadpool corp, yeah they're crazy!" Nicepool began to explain who they were and what they do, you've been in the void long enough to know who they were, fortunate enough to have never come face to face with them.

You didn't listen much after that conversation, only being asked by Nicepool if these hooligans were bothering you and if you'd like to go with him instead but you declined, more interested in leaving this place then having to be stuck with another Deadpool for the rest of eternity.

As you three were led through what seemed to be a corn maze you stumbled upon a car, that Wade did not seem to like one bit.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not, nu-uh what the- No, no" Wade continued to protest.

"Just get in the car" Logan told him, his tone already showing how he was getting annoyed.

"What's wrong with the car?" You asked Wade confused on why he didn't want to get in.

Wade looked offended when you asked him that, "This isn't a car, this is a Honda fuckin' Odyssey, throttle response sucks a cock, dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that the untreated chlamydia was makin' a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete."

You looked at Wade, shocked at how much hate he held for the Honda Odyssey and at the relation he was able to make between chlamydia and a car.

"Get in the fucking car."

Nicepool smiled, his creepy little happy smile, "She'll get you there safe and sound, old Besty always does." Both you and Logan walked up to the car, getting ready to leave as soon as possible, "You're gonna have to give me my dog back though."

"I know. Listen, yes child.." Wade spoke to Mary Puppin's, as he pet her, showing his strange attachment to the furball, "If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home or if something should.. happen to you, I'd love to be her papa."

Nicepool laughed at Wade's subtle threat, "What would ever happen to me?"

Casually Wade replied, "Lots of stuff," This time the threat didn't seem to go over Nicepool's head.

He gave both you and Logan a nervous look, you could only reply with a sigh before you nudged Logan with your elbow, nodding towards Wade and the dog.

He sighed before standing up and walking towards the two, "Jesus" He muttered under his breathe.

Wade catching on quickly turned away, trying to run into the corn maze, being met with clear failure. "No! We're running away!"

You shook your head in disapproval still leaning on the car, "Give me that." Logan said grabbing the small dog from Wade's arms.

"We were so close girl" He tells Mary Puppins before she is given back to her rightful owner.

Logan handed Mary Puppins back to Nicepool, which then let him get into the car, while Wade slowly entered as well, clearly upset he wasn't able to take her with him. You got in as well, in the backseat of the car, giving a small wave to the little dog and her weird happy owner.

Logan started the car and began the long drive, giving you a little time to rest. Shockingly Wade didn't really speak much, until Logan got to the forest.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask," Wade started off with, you slowly opened your eyes, still leaning against the window, your arms crossed as you listened in, "What's with the suit? First thing I did when I flamed out I took mine off."

"Drop it," Logan warned him.

"It's not that ugly,"

"Stop talking about my suit."

"Did you make it yourself? Been there."

"Quit. Now."

"The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fuckin' bitches. They are not your friends I'll tell you that!" Wade was not getting the hint at all, Logan looked as if he was about to burst, "Friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams."

Logan replied snappily, not even looking away from the road for a second, "Shut the fuck up about this"

"Woah woah woah, watch your frown lines, angel baby, I'm just trying to bond a little bit."

"Yeah, well then talk about somethin' else," Logan let out an annoyed scoff.

"Fine!" Wade hesitantly said, you let out a quick sigh, thankful that Wade realized he should keep his mouth shut. Slowly you began to close your eyes again, hoping to get a little nap in during this ride.

Slowly but surely you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of today finally catching up with you. Although the peace wouldn't last long.

You had at least 15 seconds of nap time before the cars sudden stop made you hit your head against the back of Wade's seat.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, grabbing your forehead in your hands, Logan glanced at you, a glint of what you could only assume was worry evident on his face, before he turned back towards Wade.

"What do you mean if?" Logan's voice was raised, mad at whatever Wade had told him during your 15 second nap.

"I mean-"

"You lied to me, you don't have a fucking clue of they can help me fix things do you?"

"No I mean-" Before Wade could even finish his sentence Logan had let out his metal claws, digging them into Wade's leg.

You jumped back, a look of fear on your face, not worried that'd they attack you but that you'd get caught in the cross fire.

"Kid, get out of the car, now" Logan said, not even looking at you, his eyes stilled fixed on Wade. You knew you didn't have to listen twice, you quickly unlocked the door and jogged over to the thickest tree, hopping to use it as protection as the two men fought.

You thought the worst of it was over, you'd heard them yell a bit and assumed it was over once it went quiet but before you could walk back up to the car you saw Logan get thrown out of the car, that right there was your sign this would be an even longer day then it already was.

You watched for a bit before ultimately sitting down against a nearby tree and deciding you might as well take that nap now. You covered your ears and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You began to stir awake when you felt some arms around you and you heard the car turning on, but you assumed it was just one of them men thinking it was best to keep going on with the journey, so you put aside that thought and went back to sleep.

Until you suddenly were jolted awake by the sudden voice and quick movement of Wade, yelling what you assume was Thor.

[beautification-tales]

The Wereslut

A tale of periodic transformation

Ginger's heart fluttered like a caffeinated butterfly as she approached Sam's door. She clutched the stack of anime DVDs to her chest, feeling their plastic cases dig into her skin. Her cheeks flushed a shade of red that could put a ripe tomato to shame. She had met Sam only a few months ago when he moved into the apartment next door. Tall, with a mop of chocolate-brown hair and a smile that could light up a room, he was the kind of guy she had always admired from afar. He was cool, athletic, and had a mysterious aura that she just couldn't resist.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the only sound the muffled thump of music from a distant apartment. Ginger took a deep breath and rapped her knuckles against the door. It swung open, revealing Sam in all his glory, dressed in a casual tee and sweatpants. His eyes widened in surprise, then a warm smile spread across his face. "Hey, Ginger! What's up?"

Her voice quivered slightly. "Hi Sam, I... I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch some anime with me?" She held out the DVDs like a peace offering. "I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought you might enjoy it."

Sam's smile grew as he looked over the titles of the top DVD. "Attack on Titan, huh?" He chuckled. "You're trying to convert me into a weeb, aren't you?"

Ginger's blush deepened. "Only if you want to be," she replied with a nervous laugh. "But I promise it's really good."

Sam's smile remained as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching the room behind him. "Actually, Ginger, I'm kind of in the middle of something." The words hit her like a brick wall. Her hopeful expression crumpled slightly, and she took a step back. "Oh, I see. That's okay. I just thought—"

But before she could finish her sentence, the sound of giggling and high heels clicking on the floor grew louder. A moment later, a beautiful brunette with a figure that could make any magazine cover jealous sailed into view, her arms laden with shopping bags. "Sammy!" she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You didn't tell me you had company!"

Sam's expression grew sheepish as he took in Ginger's downtrodden look. "Ginger, this is Tiffany," he said, his voice tight. "Tiff, this is my neighbor, Ginger."

Tiffany's eyes swept over Ginger's unassuming attire and the anime DVDs before her smile grew strained. "Hi there," she said, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. "Sam's told me all about your... hobby."

Ginger felt a sudden urge to shrink away, her excitement replaced by a sinking feeling of embarrassment. She had hoped, maybe even for a second, that Sam would see her in a different light, that maybe he'd want to share in her love of anime. But now, with Tiffany standing there, she realized how ridiculous she must look. "It's okay," she murmured, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into her voice. "Another time."

Tiffany's laughter was like a tinkling bell, but the sound grated on Ginger's nerves. "Oh, I don’t think so. Sam isn’t into geeky loser things.," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Sam’s eyes widened at Tiffany’s cruel comment. He took a step towards Ginger, his hand reaching out as if to apologize.

"Tiff, that's not nice," he admonished gently. “What it’s true isn’t babe? You don’t want to give this girl any false hope… right?” she said with a knowing smile, her voice as sweet as honey-laced venom.

Ginger's eyes filled with tears, and she took a shaky step back. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her cheeks burned as the words echoed through the hallway. The stack of DVDs grew slippery in her grip, and she fumbled to keep them together. "It's fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I should go."

Sam's hand hovered in the air, his expression torn between guilt and frustration. "Tiff, that's not—" he began, but she placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off with a look that was both seductive and commanding.

Ginger didn't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. She turned on her heel, her heart feeling as if it had been crushed under Tiffany's expensive stilettos. Tears blurred her vision as she hurried back to her apartment, the DVDs clattering against each other in her trembling grasp. She could feel the weight of Tiffany's gaze on her back, but she refused to look back. Once inside the sanctuary of her own four walls, she let the tears fall freely, her shoulders shaking with sobs that seemed to come from a place of pain she didn't know existed.

Her room was a testament to her love for anime: posters of her favorite characters adorned the walls, plushies lined the bed, and a bookshelf groaned under the weight of countless manga volumes. Normally, the sight of her collection brought her comfort, a reminder of the fantastical worlds she could escape to whenever reality became too much to bear. But now, as she stared at the poster of a fierce heroine holding a sword aloft, she felt nothing but a hollow ache.

Something in Ginger snapped as she screamed in pain. The sound echoed through her room, a cathartic release of the agony that had been building inside her. She took a deep breath and turned to face the poster of the heroine she had once admired. With trembling hands, she reached up and tore it from the wall. The paper ripped under her fingernails, sending a thrill of anger and adrenaline through her body. One by one, she yanked the posters down, each tear echoing her own shattered illusions.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, she stumbled out of her room and into the hallway, the DVDs scattered on the floor behind her. She needed air, needed to get away from the suffocating reality that was her life. Without bothering to change out of her sweatpants and oversized t-shirt, she grabbed her phone and keys and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

The cool evening breeze kissed her flushed cheeks, and she took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She quickly walked past Sam’s door and could hear his groans of pleasure, which grew louder as she approached the stairwell. Her steps slowed, and she leaned against the wall, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of her own mortification. Through the thin barrier, she could make out Tiffany's high-pitched giggles and the unmistakable sounds of passionate lovemaking.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat that had formed from her earlier exertion. Ginger felt like a fool for thinking that someone like Sam would ever be interested in someone like her. The geeky girl next door, with her unruly red hair and glasses, was no match for a goddess like Tiffany. She stumbled down the stairs, her eyes blinded by the tears, and pushed through the heavy front door of the apartment building.

The street outside was alive with the sounds of the city: cars honking, people laughing, and music playing from various windows. Ginger didn’t register any of it as she started walking, her legs moving on autopilot. She didn’t have a destination in mind, just a desperate need to put distance between herself and the apartment complex that now felt like a prison of humiliation. The sidewalk was a blur of concrete and shadow as she stumbled down the block, the neon lights of the nearby convenience store reflecting off the wet pavement.

Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, each memory of Sam and Tiffany’s encounter striking her like a bolt of lightning. She couldn’t shake the image of Tiffany’s smug smile, her words cutting through Ginger like a hot knife through butter. The pain was unbearable, a reminder of every time she had been dismissed or belittled because of her hobby, her looks, her very essence.

As Ginger walked, her eyes remained cast downward, avoiding the glances of passersby. The world felt too harsh, too cruel to face. The sidewalk grew crowded, and she felt the press of bodies around her, a stark contrast to the loneliness that engulfed her. Without warning, she collided with someone, her body bouncing off them like a pinball.

Ginger's eyes shot up to see a gorgeous brunette woman standing in front of her, dressed in a stylish outfit that screamed confidence. For a split second, she thought it was Tiffany, come to twist the knife even deeper. But the woman's eyes, a soft brown, were filled with concern rather than the malice she had just encountered. "Oh, I'm so sorry," the stranger said, her voice as sweet as it was sincere. "Are you okay?"

But Ginger was beyond okay. The anger that had been simmering inside her boiled over, and she took it out on this unsuspecting bystander. "What the hell is your problem, watch where you're going!" she snarled, pushing the woman away. The brunette staggered back, her eyes wide with shock.

“Umm excuse me?” The brunette woman’s eyes narrowed, the sweetness replaced by a hint of annoyance. “You’re the one who practically bulldozed into me!” Ginger’s heart was beating fast as she unleashed all of her pent up rage. “Fuck you bitch! Women like you think you can do anything you want! Why? Because you got blessed with big titties? So just get out of my fucking way you empty headed bimbo.”

The woman took a step closer, her expression morphing from anger to curiosity. "Bimbo?" she repeated, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "You've got quite the mouth on you, little girl. You know what they say about calling someone a bimbo, don't you?"

“What ?” Ginger sniffled, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. She hadn’t meant to let it all out like that, but the pain was too much. The stranger smiled as she whispered. “It takes one to know one.”

Before Ginger could respond, the brunette leaned in closer and licked the palm of her hand. It was a quick, almost imperceptible gesture, and Ginger’s eyes widened in shock. The woman’s tongue was warm and wet, leaving a strange tingle in its wake. She stepped back, trying to shake off the bizarre sensation, but the stranger’s gaze held her in place. Her eyes had changed, the pupils dilating to almost swallow the irises whole.

"By the power of the moon," the woman began, her voice low and hypnotic, "I bestow upon you a gift, a transformation." Her words were laced with a mysterious power that seemed to resonate through the very air around them. Ginger felt a strange energy coil around her, tightening like a noose with every syllable spoken.

Ginger’s hand burned with pain as a burn mark appeared where she was licked. “Ah what the fuck!” she yelped, staring at the hand in horror. The brunette’s smile grew wider, revealing her white teeth. “It’s a small price to pay for what’s to come,” she said cryptically. “I’m sure you’ll have so much fun…tomorrow.” The woman laughed as she walked away, leaving Ginger trembling with confusion and fear.

The cold evening air seemed to pierce through Ginger’s skin, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable chill run down her spine. Shivering, she turned and hurried back towards her apartment building, her legs moving faster than she thought possible. The sounds of Sam’s lovemaking had faded into the distance, and she was grateful for that small mercy. As she reached the safety of her own hallway, the chill grew stronger, and she could feel a strange energy pulsing through her veins, setting her nerves alight with anticipation.

Her trembling hand fumbled with the keys, and she finally managed to unlock the door, stumbling into the relative sanctuary of her apartment. The mess of DVDs and torn posters greeted her like a sad reflection of her shattered heart. She didn’t have the strength to clean up the mess or even change out of her tear-stained clothes. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed, the mattress welcoming her with a comforting sigh. Her hand throbbed where the brunette’s saliva had burned her, the pain a constant reminder of the bizarre encounter.

“Forget Tiffany. She’s a bitch and I love anime. I love you.” Sam said as he looked deeply into her eyes. Ginger felt a spark of hope flicker inside her chest. Could it be that he felt the same way? That he didn’t care what anyone else thought about her hobby? She took a tentative step closer to him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. Sam embraced her and kissed her deeply, his arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace. The passion between them grew stronger, and soon they were both lost in a whirlwind of desire.

But the dream shattered as abruptly as it had begun. The sound of knocking on her door yanked Ginger from her fantasy world, and she bolted upright in bed. The room was bathed in the cold light of dawn, the curtains fluttering gently in the breeze from her open window. Her heart raced, the remnants of her dream clinging to her like a stubborn fog.

Ginger frowned in disgust as she was covered in sweat. She reached down and felt that her panties were drenched. The dream had been so vivid, so real. But it was just that, a dream. A sad, sad dream that taunted her with the one thing she wanted most - Sam's acceptance and affection. She wiped her eyes, trying to scrub away the last traces of hope that had lingered from her slumber. The knocking grew more insistent, echoing through the silent apartment. She threw off the covers and stumbled towards the door, her legs feeling like jelly.

When she opened it, she was surprised to find Sam standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. "Hey, Gin," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Can I come in?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected to see him today, let alone this early in the morning. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. His presence filled the room, making it feel smaller and more intimate than it had just moments before. The smell of his cologne, faint but noticeable, tickled her nostrils and brought back memories of their awkward encounter in the hallway.

“Did.. Did you just wake up? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Sam said, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the mess from the night before. “Umm it’s ok it’s early.” Ginger responded trying to hide the mess. “You’re joking… right? It’s evening Ginger.” Sam said, a look of confusion crossing his face.

Ginger looked at the clock, it read 7:30 PM. “Oh my god, I totally lost track of time,” she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had been sleeping the whole day away. Yet her body still ached as if she had not rested enough. Sam looked at her with concern, his handsome features etched with a frown. “So I wanted to come over and apologize. Tiffany is kind of…”

“A bitch!” Ginger exclaimed, interrupting Sam before he could finish his sentence. “You don’t have to apologize for her, Sam. She’s not worth it.” The anger in her voice was palpable, but she couldn’t hold back the hurt that bled through her words. “Yeah well it won’t happen again.” Sam said, his voice tight with frustration.

“Oh really you’re not going to fuck her again?” Ginger couldn’t hold back her feelings. She felt bolder for some reasons as the ache stayed throughout her body. “Huh?” Sam looked surprised. “No, I meant what she said to you. It was wrong. She shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers for any signs of residual pain. Ginger felt the pain increase as she winced at his words. The anger and embarrassment from the encounter had not fully dissipated, and his apology was a salve that didn’t quite cover the wound.

“Hmmm let me guess you used that big fat cock to punish her and now she’ll be a good girl.” Ginger’s eyes widened as she surprised herself. She immediately looked down embarrassed at how explicit her words were. “Yeah… wait, how do you know this?” Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“Cmon Sam. The whole building could hear you two.” Ginger mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. She felt a strange mix of emotions, a cocktail of anger, embarrassment, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I’m not mad at you, I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Well I meant it. I would love to watch Attack on Titan with you.” Sam said, his voice gentle and sincere. Ginger's heart did a little dance in her chest. Could it be that he was actually interested? “No Sam, I think you’d rather watch me attack that cock!” Ginger’s mouth hung open, shocked at the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. It was as if the pain from the day had turned her into a completely different person, one that was not afraid to speak her mind.

Ginger could feel the pain increasing in her chest as she looked at Sam, unsure of what to say. “Whoa Ginger! Are you ok?” Sam asked, taking a step closer. The genuine concern in his voice was like a balm to her soul, soothing some of the raw anger she felt. It was like something else was in her itching to come out. “I… I’m sorry I don’t feel so great.”

Without warning, the memory of the brunette's spell crashed over her like a wave. She glanced outside, the curtains billowing in the evening breeze. The sun had set, and the moon was a silver sliver in the dark sky. The ache in her hand was now a pulsing throb, a reminder of the mysterious encounter. Her eyes grew wide with realization. “Yeah you look like you’re burning up.” Sam said as he placed his palm on her forehead. “Whoa you definitely have a fever! You’re hot!”

“About time you noticed me!” Ginger exclaimed, her voice laced with seduction. Sam stepped back, his eyes searching hers, his hand still hovering near her forehead. He had felt the heat, but now he could see it. Her eyes had changed, the green of her irises swirling with gold, a fiery dance that seemed to reflect the intensity of her emotions.

Ginger stepped away and shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I think you should go ah ah” Ginger grabbed her stomach as the pain was unbearable now. She felt a warmth spread through her body, starting from her hand and moving up her arm. Her heart raced as the heat grew stronger, and she could feel something happening to her. Her skin began to tingle, and she watched in horror as her nails grew longer, sharper, and a deep crimson color.

“Sam what’s happening to me?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she held out her hand for him to see. But instead of fear, Sam's eyes lit up with something akin to excitement. His gaze roamed over her body, and she felt a strange sensation, as if his eyes were physically caressing her. Her body responded to his gaze, her breasts growing heavier, her nipples hardening into points that pushed against the fabric of her shirt. She felt her body stretch and change, her curves becoming more pronounced, and her skin taking on an ethereal glow.

Her sweatpants grew tighter, the fabric straining against her expanding ass. She looked down to find that her buttocks had swelled to an impossible size, the material of her panties stretching to the point of transparency. It was as if she had been blessed with the voluptuousness of a goddess overnight, and the sight of her own transformation was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. The pain in her hand had spread throughout her body, but it had morphed into a pleasurable ache that made her want to moan with each movement.

Ginger's short hair grew longer with every passing second, cascading down her back in fiery waves. Her cheekbones sharpened, and her eyes grew brighter, the green now a mesmerizing emerald that seemed to sparkle in the dim light of her room. Her glasses slipped off her nose, no longer needed as her vision corrected itself. She watched in the mirror as her body continued to change, her arms and legs filling with a newfound strength and feminine muscle that rippled under her skin like living art.

“Ungh fuck this feels so good!” Ginger couldn’t believe the words that slipped from her lips as her body continued to change. Her skin tightened over her newfound muscles, the sensation a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The tingling grew more intense, moving down her spine and into her legs, making them longer and more powerful. She watched in the mirror as her thighs bulged and her calves grew defined, every muscle fiber standing out in sharp relief.

Her ears grew pointed and sensitive, picking up sounds she’d never noticed before. The distant hum of the city, the rustle of clothes as Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the unmistakable sound of his breathing growing heavier. She could feel his eyes on her, and it was as if they were caressing her skin, setting it alight with a burning need for his touch. Her nose twitched, and she caught a whiff of his arousal, the musky scent making her heart race even faster.

Her eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Sam's pants, and she felt a strange power surge through her. The room grew hotter, the air thick with the tension that crackled between them. Ginger’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, and she could feel a wetness growing between her legs, her panties now sticking to her swollen sex. She was aware of her own beauty in a way she never had been before, and she knew that Sam couldn’t resist her.

The smell of his desire was intoxicating, a heady aroma that seemed to fill the room. She took a step closer, her hips swaying in a way she had never allowed them to before. The pain in her hand had become a pulsing beat, matching the rhythm of her own heart. She reached out and took his hand, her eyes never leaving his, and led him to her bed. His eyes were wide with shock, but he followed her without protest, as if under a spell.

Ginger felt her own body responding to his touch, her skin growing more sensitive with every brush of his fingers. Her breasts heaved with every breath, the fabric of her shirt now stretched to its limits. She watched as his gaze followed the movement, his pupils dilating even further. She felt a smug satisfaction at the power she now wielded over him, a stark contrast to the helplessness she had felt just hours ago.

Sam's hand hovered over her chest, and she could feel the warmth of his palm even before he made contact. His breath hitched as he finally touched her, his thumb brushing over the peak of one breast. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her knees buckled slightly, and she leaned into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel exposed, yet somehow seen for the first time.

The air grew thick with their mingling scents, the sweetness of her arousal and the musk of his desire. Ginger could hear the rapid thud of Sam’s heart, the erratic beat matching the tempo of her own. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the warmth of his skin beckoning her closer. Every inch of her was alive with sensation, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

Her eyes locked onto Sam’s, and she could see the hunger in them, the need that mirrored her own. His hand trailed down her arm, the calluses on his fingers sending a delicious shiver up her spine. She watched his pupils dilate further, his gaze dropping to her mouth, and she knew he wanted to kiss her. To claim her. And she wanted it too, with a ferocity that surprised even herself.

The scent of his arousal grew stronger, filling her nostrils with a heady musk that made her core throb with need. She could hear the quickening of his breath, feel the heat radiating from his body as he stepped closer. It was intoxicating, a siren's call that she couldn’t resist. Her hand reached up to cradle his face, pulling him down to her, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum.

The moment their lips met, it was as if a dam had burst. The kiss was explosive, a conflagration of passion that consumed them both. Sam’s arms wrapped around her, his hands exploring her newfound curves with a desperate hunger that matched her own. Ginger’s skin was a canvas of sensation, each caress setting her alight with pleasure. Her body felt alive in a way it never had before, every nerve ending singing with a symphony of desire.

Her nose twitched again, the scent of his arousal now so potent it was almost overwhelming. It was a heady mix of musk and sweat, a pheromonal beacon that drew her closer. She could feel his cock, thick and hard, pressing against her stomach, demanding release. The ache in her hand had transformed into a throbbing need that traveled through her entire being, a hunger that could only be satiated by the taste of him.

Her tongue flicked out, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin as she traced the line of his jaw with a gentle nip. Sam groaned, the sound vibrating through her body, setting every nerve ending alight. His hands slid up her back, his strong, calloused fingers digging into her flesh. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious blend of pain and pleasure that had her arching into him, her breasts pushing against his chest.

Her heightened sense of smell picked up on the scent of his desire, a potent aphrodisiac that made her head spin. It was intoxicating, a siren's song that grew louder with every beat of her heart. She could feel the heat of his arousal through the fabric of their clothes, a testament to the power she had over him.

The sound of his breath grew more ragged, the air in the room seeming to thicken with every shallow intake. Ginger's own breathing matched his, as if they were two animals caught in the throes of an ancient mating dance. Her body responded to his proximity, her skin a live wire of sensation that begged for his touch.

Her eyes narrowed, her heightened vision taking in every detail of Sam's face. The way his pupils dilated with desire, the flush that spread from his cheeks to his neck, and the slight tremble of his bottom lip as she traced it with her teeth. She could smell his arousal, a potent scent that seemed to coat the very air they breathed. It was a heady mix of musk and sweat, a scent so primal it made her want to purr with need.

The fabric of Sam’s jeans grew damp as her hand brushed against the bulge in his pants, and she could feel his cock pulse with every beat of his heart. The sensation was exquisite, a silent communication that told her exactly what he wanted. She felt a thrill of power, a delicious sense of control that she had never felt before.

Her heightened hearing picked up the sound of his racing heart, the wetness of their kisses, and the faint rustle of their clothes as they moved together. The symphony of desire grew louder with every passing second, drowning out the world outside their bubble of passion. Ginger’s body was a maelstrom of sensation, her newfound strength and agility guiding her every move.

Her eyes, now a fiery gold, locked onto the pulsing vein in Sam’s neck, the lifeblood of his desire beckoning to her. She felt a hunger stir within her, a craving that was both terrifying and thrilling. Her fangs elongated, a reminder of the spell that had transformed her. She hadn’t noticed before, but now, they were all she could focus on.

Sam’s breath was hot against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, and she felt her body respond with a tremble. The pressure grew as his teeth scraped against her flesh, and she knew he could feel the pulse of her vein beneath. It was as if her body was begging for his bite, craving the connection that would seal their bond.

Her hand slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles before finding the button of his jeans. With a quick flick, she undid them, her hand sliding into his boxers to grasp his cock. It was hot and heavy in her palm, a testament to his desire for her. She stroked him gently at first, watching his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. His hands tightened on her hips, urging her closer.

Ginger felt a rush of power as she realized she had Sam exactly where she wanted him. She straddled his waist, her knees pressing into the soft mattress on either side of his hips. He was so big, so powerful, and yet she had him at her mercy. With a seductive smile, she guided him to her entrance, her wetness coating his shaft. The anticipation was unbearable, the ache in her core demanding release.

With one swift motion, she sank down onto him, her tight pussy enveloping his length. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural moan escaping his throat. The sensation of his hard cock inside her was unlike anything she’d ever felt. The pain from her transformation had given way to pleasure, and she reveled in the feeling of being filled by him.

Ginger’s body moved on instinct, her hips rocking back and forth in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. Sam’s hands were everywhere, gripping her ass, her hips, her breasts. He was lost in the moment, and she reveled in the power she had over him. Her newfound strength made every thrust feel more powerful, more intense, and she knew he could feel it too.

With each movement, she could feel the energy from the spell coursing through her, heightening her senses. The scent of their mingled arousal was intoxicating, making her want to devour him whole. Her fangs ached, and she knew the urge to bite was growing stronger. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the soft skin of his neck, feeling the pulse of his vein beneath her lips.

Sam's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them with a desperation that matched the rhythm of their hips. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn’t hold back the loud moan that escaped her. It echoed through the room, a sound that seemed to resonate in the very fabric of reality itself. His own moan grew deeper, his hands moving to her hips to help guide her movements.

With every moan, Ginger felt the power of the transformation coursing through her, fueling her desire and her need to claim Sam. Each stroke of his cock against her walls sent waves of pleasure through her, and she could feel herself getting closer to the edge. The room spun around her, the colors more vivid than she had ever seen them. She threw her head back, her moans growing louder, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to fill the entire space.

Her hips moved faster, her movements more erratic, as she chased the orgasm that was just out of reach. Sam’s grip on her tightened, his own breathing growing more ragged. She could feel his muscles tensing, his body preparing for his release. Ginger knew she had him, knew she had him under her spell. The thrill of it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

With a final, powerful thrust, she sank her teeth into his neck. Sam's body tensed, and a strangled cry of pleasure ripped from his throat. The taste of his blood was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a heady cocktail of life and passion that set her ablaze. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she came, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Her body convulsed around him, milking his cock with every pulse of her orgasm.

The room was alive with the sound of their mating, the wet slaps of their bodies coming together melding with their guttural moans. Ginger’s newfound strength allowed her to ride Sam with a fervor that bordered on the bestial, her hips moving in a frenetic dance that seemed to shake the very foundation of the apartment. His own cries grew louder as he matched her rhythm, his hands clutching at her ass, his nails digging into her flesh.

The scent of their union grew stronger, a potent mix of sweat and blood that seemed to feed the transformation. Ginger’s eyes never left Sam’s, the gold in her irises burning with an intensity that seemed almost supernatural. Her nails, now claws, scored lines down his back, leaving trails of crimson that stood out starkly against his pale skin. His own cries grew more desperate, his hips bucking up to meet hers, driving himself deeper inside her.

Ginger’s moans grew louder, filling the room with a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate through her very soul. She could feel the power of the spell building within her, each gasp and whimper a release of energy that seemed to fuel her further. Sam’s eyes widened with a mix of fear and desire as she took his face in her hands, pulling him closer.

With a final, desperate thrust, Sam climaxed, his body shuddering beneath her. His cock pulsed inside her, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her body. His blood flowed into her mouth, the metallic tang of it mixing with the sweetness of his release. Ginger swallowed greedily, the taste of him a powerful elixir that seemed to complete the transformation.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as the orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, the power of it stealing her breath away. Her body spasmed around him, her muscles tightening and releasing in an endless symphony of pleasure. They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and passion. Sam’s blood coated her tongue, and she felt a sense of satisfaction that was almost primal.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Ginger pulled away, her teeth retracting and her eyes returning to their usual emerald hue. She looked down at Sam, his body now limp and still beneath hers, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. His eyes fluttered open, and she watched as confusion clouded his gaze. She watched as he passed out on her bed.

Ginger awoke to the sound of her alarm. Her body felt sore in places she hadn't felt before, and she was momentarily disoriented. She sat up, her head swimming with memories of the night that had just passed. But as she looked down at herself, she realized that she was back in her plain, geeky body. Her breasts were no longer swollen, and the fiery red hair had retreated back to its usual mousy brown. The pain in her hand was gone, and she was once again bespectacled. It was as if the whole thing had been a dream.

But then she saw him—Sam, sprawled out on her bed, his shirt hiked up, revealing a trail of teeth marks and scratches on his back. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a cold shower. It hadn’t been a dream. Her heart raced as she took in the sight of him, his handsome face relaxed in sleep, the smell of sex still lingering in the air.

Ginger’s cheeks flushed as she recalled the feral passion of their encounter, the way she had claimed him, marked him as hers. Her eyes fell to the crimson mark on her hand, a stark reminder of the spell that had transformed her. The giggle that had bubbled up in her chest died in her throat, replaced by a low growl of desire that seemed to resonate through her very bones. It was a thrilling thought—every full moon, she’d become this all-powerful creature of beauty and passion, capable of ensnaring any man she chose.

[minkieater]

you were tired of spending the holidays alone, tired of enduring your family’s incessant questions about your relationship status. from october fifth to november twenty third, you vowed to yourself that in the short eight weeks you gave yourself, you’d show up to thanksgiving with a boyfriend. eight different dates, eight different men, one of them’s gotta be a keeper… right?

────── “oh, you still don’t have a boyfriend?”

at twenty two, you thought it was completely normal to not have had a boyfriend yet, you didn’t think you were missing out on anything. your cousins bombarded you every year with their own relationships, shoving their boyfriends down your throat, the rocks that sat on their ring fingers from their fiancés, they were relentless – and it was every single holiday.

it used to be just your cousins, then it was your aunts, uncles, parents, siblings, your fucking grandma. you were tired of the question, tired of being the odd one out, even a little tired of being twenty two and never experiencing love. 

“yes i do,” you let out a nervous laugh, one you’d hoped your cousin didn’t pick up on.

“you do?” her eyebrows reached her hairline, eyes bulging out of her skull. “rina, did you hear that? she said she does have a boyfriend.”

you scratched the back of your neck as karina came closer, a smile on her face, “no way! finally, what’s his name?”

you blinked at them, scrambling in your head to think of a name – any name. your laugh came out nervous again before you answered, “you’ll meet him at thanksgiving, no hints until then!”

you spent the rest of your family’s end of summer cookout with your ears ringing, panicking about the mess you just brought on yourself. being september twenty eighth, you had exactly eight weekends until thanksgiving. 

eight weekends meant a different date each weekend, eight chances to get a boyfriend before thanksgiving. out of eight different men, one would be good enough to show off to your family, right?

i'm super excited about this one, it's gonna be so fun!!! if you see any of ur faves (plus a few more teezer boys not shown), stay tuned <3 love, t xoxo

[cheynovak]

Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I���m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

--

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[shabbyshoebox]

Storybook Sweater - Grunkle Stan & Mabel Drabble

Stan softly held the sweater in his hands, delicately darning the hole back together. A fishing pole was embroidered onto the front, with a felt fish applique "hooked" on the line.

Mabel had left him the remnants of the original ball of yarn it was knit from, some yarn needles, and a handmade booklet on how to do "Swiss Darning" (complete with pop-ups, glitter, and contrasting layers of yarn carefully glued down to show each step).

-

"Pfff, I want you to actually wear it!" Mabel had said, plopping the bundle of items into Stan's arms. "It's going to get torn on your adventures and it's going to tell so many stories- OH." She cut herself off and scribbled in her notebook, 'Storybook sweater w/ turnable pages'.

"I'm going to ruin it," he said. He lifted up the handknit maroon sweater, running his fingers over the stitches.

"That's the point, Grunkle Stan!" She gestured excitedly, accidentally sending the notebook and pen off the table.

"I'm right in front of you, Sweetie. You don't have to-"

"Grunkle Stan." Mabel had grabbed his face in her sticky hands- Stan hoped that it was glitter glue. Her eyes remained fixed on his. "You are going to wear this sweater. You are going to rip it, and tear it, and stain it. It's going on adventures with you, and I better see something wrong with it the next time I see you!" She then dropped her voice to a whisper, "This is your storybook sweater!"

"My...My what now?"

"Each part you fix is proof that you lived through something. I want you to point at a patched hole and tell me if it was made by pirates or merllamas!" Her eyes sparkled. "Promise me you'll wear it?"

"I promise."

-

So far, nothing exciting had happened to the sweater. He had caught it on a door latch twice, had spilled coffee on it once. Currently he was fixing a hole made by friction with his belt.

Stan pulled the fresh maroon yarn through the next row, smiling to himself as he found a dried piece of glitter glue on the thread.

He would have a good sweater story for her eventually.