#especially when it comes to romantic relationships

[euthymiya]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first who ever did) — ft. sylus

synopsis: sylus is too causal with accepting pain. you don’t like seeing him hurt, so the best solution you can come up with is seeing him in pleasure

❤︎ word count: 2.4k words — it’s a miracle i kept it this short

❤︎ before you read: female hunter reader ; mature content. not suitable for minors ; not an established relationship but implied romantic connection. idk it’s complicated LOL ; injured sylus ; described blood and injuries ; evol inhibitors to make his injuries a bit more serious ; not proof read : hand jobs ; banter ; that’s pretty much it just wanted to write him cumming

❤︎ comments: i am posting this 3 mins before i need to leave for work this man has me hustling before my hustle rip

The safe house is quiet. Not including the sounds of Sylus’s low, pained grunts as you dress his wounds, it’s quiet. You’re quiet, and it’s unsettling—on a typical day, you’re more than half the noise.

(In a good way, of course. Sylus is not a liar by any means, and saying he doesn’t like the constant sound of your voice as you talk would be a ridiculously big lie. He values the truth in things.)

It means you’re brooding. Sulky, petulant brooding. He’ll just have to fix that, he thinks—and soon, too.

“I’ll have to trouble you a bit longer, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breaking the silence as he glances at his arm.

You glance up and stare at the damage: a stab wound to his abdomen, a gash on his arm, and ugly, unwelcome bruises littering across soft, slightly tanned skin.

You frown. It borders on a scowl. He watches as you carefully stitch the wound closed on his lower belly with precise fingers. (Faintly, his mind registers that you’re good at this. Too good at this. He doesn’t like the implications of that—not for his own case and especially not for yours.)

“Does it hurt?” You mumble, finally.

Sylus is not a liar by any means, so he hums, titling your chin up and forcing you to pause. “Yes,” he says truthfully. You’d never guess he was in pain just by the look on his face—but there are always signs if you look close enough.

Sticky, sweaty skin. Deep, labored breaths. Slumped posture that’s so far from his usual tall, towering stance. He looks just a bit tired, too. Like sleeping (something he rarely does enough to be considered healthy) would be his ideal course of action right now.

You frown at his admission. “I told you not to get so close,” you huff, “you never wait for me.”

He chuckles. Deep, slow. Every time Sylus laughs, you’re reminded how powerful he is. How even through the sound of his amusement alone, he sounds important. Wealthy, too, if you’re being honest—he laughs like the rich. But that’s always amused you more than it’s impressed.

“You seem rather distraught, love. Dare I say….you’re concerned?”

“You’re too smart to act this stupid,” you spit.

He grins. It’s large, wide, and all too smug for someone who’s under your hands as you mend back torn skin. Gently, he hums, “so the kitten bears her fangs. How cute.”

Your mood is getting increasingly worse. Sylus knows that—but sometimes, he’s a little selfish. Pushing you harder, cornering you against the wall with smart words and sly teasing is the only way to make you open up sometimes.

And, well, Sylus is no liar. He can’t say he hates getting under your skin entirely—it makes you look at him. And he likes your attention. But more than that, he likes knowing you care.

“You don’t think I’m capable,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes.

“And when did I say that, Miss Hunter?”

“You don’t have to say it, I just know. Otherwise, you’d listen when I tell you to wait,” comes your agitated reply.

Sylus does not wait for you. He jumps into a fight without letting you step foot onto the battlefield. Most times, it’s a minor form of irritation on your end when you’re itching to get in a good few hits. Sometimes, like now, it makes your emotions saturated in every form of distress.

Anger. Sadness. Regret. Panic. All of it simmers and simmers until you feel you’re overflowing with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He pays the price today—one sloppy dodge of a blade, and it impales his lower abdomen with precision, lacing him with something. Something that evidently is rather good at repressing his evol—he can’t fight nearly as well let alone heal.

You can’t help but feel useless. More than anything, under appreciated. Maybe, if he’d waited just a moment so you could have covered him, then maybe your night would end with less blood on your hands and less pain on his.

“You’re also too bright to act this dim,” he says lowly, voice just a bit tight with pain. You tighten his stitches, and he doesn’t even grimace despite the clearly unpleasant sensation.

“Do tell me,” you glare, “just what am I being dim about?”

“If you think I don’t recognize your capabilities,” he drawls, studying the knife that once tore through his flesh slowly. It’ll be analyzed at the base. You’re certain he’ll figure out just what the blade was laced with and trace it back to its origins soon enough. He sets it down and meets your eyes—deep, rich crimson bleeding into your gaze. “Then maybe you’re not as good at seeing the bigger picture as I thought.”

“That you’re a smug bastard who likes to prove you’re better on your own?”

“That I care about you,” he says plainly. “I can handle it. It’s better you than me.”

“You could have died,” you hiss, “if I wasn’t there—”

“I’d have lived either way,” he says smugly. “Killing me is a rather difficult thing to do. Inflicting pain, on the other hand….well, at least it keeps things interesting.”

Your face drops. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so right. You can injure him all you want, but he heals fast enough that he’s here to stay. Like an annoying thorn that keeps pricking you as you pick roses. Like a weed that just keeps growing back the more you tear them from the ground. He comes back. Annoying as he is, he comes back. And you don’t mind that so much—you think you might even need it that way.

But it always hurts. He bleeds red just like any other person. Grimaces here and there despite how accustomed he is to the agony. Somewhere along the line, his pain became yours.

And you can’t help but be hyper aware of how much you despise it.

“I hate when you’re hurt,” you whisper.

“I’ll live,” he soothes, cupping your cheek and swiping a stray tear with a large, callused thumb. You shiver, pouting slightly at the words. “I’ve had worse.”

“But you still feel the pain.”

“Can anyone really avoid that, sweetie?” He raises an amused brow.

Before he can open his mouth to add more, you lean closer, careful not to hurt his wound as you press against his chest and bury your head into his neck, pressing a light kiss to the skin.

His breath hitches, and you think you’ve finally gotten through that thick, stubborn front of his.

“If it hurts,” you murmur, “then I can make it feel good.”

He shivers—barely, of course. But he shivers. It’s a small win. “Oh?” He asks carefully, his good arm curling around your waist to keep you in place. “And how so?”

You press a lingering kiss to his jaw. Your lips are not strangers to Sylus. They know him as well as he knows them too, but you’ve always danced along the edge of more than friends and less than lovers. One second, you think you’ve crossed over the line with graceful steps, the next you fall ten steps back.

Right now, you think you don’t care. Line be damned and whether you’re just friends or lovers, you couldn’t be more unbothered.

“I don’t like when people touch you,” you admit, “not at all. But especially not so….rough.”

“Mmh, jealous are we? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I willingly let touch me,” he grins. You roll your eyes, watching as he shuffles back to lean against the couch and relax.

“I should be the only one who touches you,” you say with an air of petulance.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, placating your mood, “then show me something more gentle,” he whispers.

You smile. It’s the first one of the night, lips curling against the shell of his ear as you breathe, “oh I intend to.”

Just like that, your hand trails up his thigh, carefully tracing along the inner edge of his leg before your palm roams over his crotch. There’s a bulge forming as if on command. Your ego boosts just a little—for all his strength and endurance, one brief, mere little touch from you forces his body to react against his will.

“Is this really where you should be putting in all your effort?” His breath hitches, and the tips of his ears flush a pretty, soft little pink, “my arm still has an open wound, you know.”

“You’ve had worse,” you repeat his words back to him, “but let me show you better.”

It’s quick work, unblocking his belt and unzipping him just enough to gently pull out his half-hard cock. You glance down, smiling at the small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, forming a kind little opportunity for you to watch him squirm as your thumb grazes his cockhead to collect it.

You smear it along his length as you slowly stroke him to full hardness, and he offers you a shaky little huffed out, “fuck,” under his breath.

“Does that hurt, too?” You hum, nose pressing into his jaw as you kiss his neck.

“No,” he sighs, melting into you, “no it feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“Do you see how nice it is when you just trust me?” You scold, “now apply this to the battlefield, too.”

He chuckles deeply at that, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to fuck his hips into your fist—his stitches are still fragile enough that he doesn’t want to risk tearing them. Instead, he has to trust that you’ll give him what he needs, all on your own.

“I’d rather get hurt and be spoiled like this,” he mumbles, “than risk anything happing to you. Seems like a better option if you ask me.”

“So stubborn,” you click your teeth.

Sylus is not a liar. You know that. If he says you’re capable, then you believe him—and if he says that he’d rather take the brunt of injuries and the pain that comes with them just to finish a fight before you can be involved, you know it’s not a lie. But you don’t always like the truth. You don’t like knowing he uses himself as a shield of sorts for you, as some wall between you and pain or maybe even death just because he can. Just because he heals. Just because he thinks he should.

You don’t always like the truth. Sometimes, you’d rather live in a lie.

So you tell yourself he thinks you’re less than him. That you’re lacking and beneath his approval and you have something to prove—so your hand tightens around his thick, reddened cock and you stroke fast. Quick and to the point.

Enough to have him groaning with an arm instinctively moving to cover his eyes as he throws his head back—only he hisses, feeling the stinging tug on his gash as he moves.

You hum, guiding his arm back down as you cup his cheek and murmur, “careful now. You’re hurt—I wonder whose fault that is.”

He rolls his eyes at the comment—but one swipe of your thumb through his slit has them rolling back in pleasure before he can glare at you. “You’re rather smug today,” he huffs, “do you like seeing me defenseless, sweetheart?”

“Not for the reasons you might think,” you say sweetly, grinning as you peck his cheek. Right where you cut him the first time you met. Right where you think you’ll always have to soothe so he knows you didn’t mean it.

Not anymore, at least.

“You’re far from the innocent kitten you seem to be,” he grins, huffing out a soft laugh as it tapers off into a light, breathy moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make you forget the pain?”

“Oh yes,” he grins. Suddenly, a wave of red wraps around your hand and forces your grip to tighten. “I’ve forgotten I was injured at all.”

His evol, you realize—it’s back.

You stare at the gash on his arm—crimson on crimson as the flurry of his power replaces the blood, leaving behind soft, healthy skin. Not a scar left behind. Not a trace of pain. Not even a faint line of where torn flesh mended together and became new.

He’s had worse, you remember. And he comes back from it every damn time.

Still, you think—you’re going to give him better.

“I don’t want you hurting because of me,” you breathe, leaning into his chest and pressing your weight against him without worry, now. Your hand fists his shirt as his arms wrap around you and keep you close.

Your hand glides along his girth between your bodies, working him up slowly, slowly, slowly until it all feels like it’ll come crashing down all at once. His breath hitches as he lets out a light groan of your name.

It sounds pretty on his tongue. You’re more determined to pull nicer sounds from him, too, so you kiss under his ear lobe, sucking gently on the skin and feeling him let out a soft, labored gasp.

“Will you spoil me like this every time I’m hurt?” Sylus breathes.

You scowl and hiss, “no. Absolutely not. Then you’ll just get hurt more.”

He smiles smugly at the retort, biting his lip as you squeeze your fist around him tighter. “A smart little kitten, aren’t you? Sharpening your claws.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like me enough to worry. I think that says enough.”

“Asshole,” you glare.

He’s shameless, you think. Because the insult brings him to the edge, his mouth falling open to a beautiful face of bliss, body quivering under you in soft tremors of pleasure. Sylus is beautiful. Dark, rough around the edges, and uncut stone with sharp corners. Beautiful enough to want, dangerous enough to slice your fingers if you don’t know how to touch him properly.

You admire him as he spills into your hands, his lips desperately searching yours as he leans closer and pulls you into a kiss, heavy breaths pouring into your mouth as he gives himself to you.

“Good,” he pants, “you…you make me feel so good.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be here for,” you murmur, “so you don’t have to feel pain.”

You stroke him through his orgasm, until he’s soft and pliant and limp under your touch. Gently, you stroke his cheek with a thumb as you cup his face. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes.

“As capable as you are,” he says quietly, “I like the idea of you spending your energy in other fields of expertise. Sue me.”

“I should,” you purse your lips. “Sue you for all you’re worth.”

“It’ll be worth the troubles,” he says smugly, “you’ll get quite the sum if you manage to.”

And he’s not a liar, either—so you scoff at his smug, truth-telling grin before giving his curved lips a small peck.

Girl . Idk

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Other Stuff that can happen in "stagnant" whump fics

So I've been thinking about something and wanted to share it as an open conversation. A lot of the time my writing block when writing whump or sickfic comes from like...what can actually happen in the course of the story. Especially since my stuff tends towards the longer side (I'm a chronic overwriter), it's hard to keep things...interesting I guess? And I find my writing suffers when my Tales Of Woe don't have much structure to them.

(I say this as someone who writes primarily sickfic, or recovery-based stories that are caretaker/whumpee focused, with little or no whumper involvement, so that's what I'll be focused on here. Certainly if you're writing something like a character being held in captivity and tortured/attempting escape/encountering other prisoners/being searched for, you've already got plenty going on and probably don't have this issue at all.)

So I've made a list of Stuff That Can Happen during your whump/sick fic. If you would like. Of course, there will always be a market for stories that are mostly the same level of suffering and nothing else is really the focus, but if you do find you struggle with this like I do, this list might be for you.

Character arcs/Internal/social shifts:

1 caretaker, their relationship to the whumpee strengthens

1 caretaker, they find themselves growing apart from the whumpee

2 or more caretakers, there are complicated dynamics between all of them + the whumpee that shift around

Eg; there's a whumpee and 3 others, Caretaker A forms a closer relationship with Whumpee throughout the story, Caretaker B *was* close with them before but finds their place now "usurped" by A, Caretaker C tries to keep the peace between them while also helping out Whumpee

A caretaker realizes they're better at Caretaking than they'd thought

A caretaker realizes they're not as good at Caretaking as they'd thought

Whumpee realizes they have romantic feelings for Caretaker (or vice versa)

Whumpee discovers they only like Caretaker as a friend (or vice versa)

Whumpee learns to trust Caretaker (s)

Caretaker (s) learn to trust Whumpee

There was a previous misunderstanding (about their feelings for one another, their loyalties, an action taken from one of them etc.) between Whumpee and Caretaker (or between more than one caretaker) that gradually gets resolved

A misunderstanding occurs within the story that builds and is then resolved

One caretaker has to convince another to be honest with Whumpee about this misunderstanding (or has to convince Whumpee to be honest with Caretaker)

Someone unexpected arrives at the scene; whether that be a rival, a friend or family member of the whumpee, a potential other caretaker, or Whumper

Perhaps this is a relief for the caretaker, who needs a break

Or it's a stranger who causes tension in the situation

Maybe the caretaker knows this person is coming and is stressed out waiting for them

Physical/symptomatic shifts:

Whumpee is found injured and unconscious, and wakes up being cared for - their wounds later become infected, leading to a much longer recovery

Whumpee's condition quickly worsens

Whumpee steadily becomes delirious

Whumpee is feverish and goes from feeling freezing cold to boiling

Whumpee feverishly tries to stumble out of bed and into a different room (searching for Caretaker? trying to find a warmer spot?), and are found before, as, or after they collapse

Adding illness to injury: Whumpee is dealing with an injury, only to get sick, or sick only to also become hypothermic, they have heatstroke and then get hurt etc. Compounding whump.

Environmental shifts:

A caretaker could leave temporarily out of necessity, leaving whumpee and/or other caretaker(s) worried about them until they return

The weather changes (worsens? gets better? worsens and then gets better? gets better and then worsens?)

The characters have to shift locations for some reason

An important resource is run out of

Something necessary is destroyed or partially destroyed

A doctor/medic needs to be called

Somebody else becomes sick, injured, or lands in some other danger

Whumpee's newest symptom requires a different type of medicine than what they've been taking up until now, possibly one the caretaker doesn't have

The characters are in an intense situation (in hiding, in a warzone, on the run, trying to escape a natural disaster etc.) and the stakes suddenly become much higher due to something related to this

Maybe there's a flood and the waters have reached their safe spot

Maybe whumpee is some enemy they're sheltering in secret and members of their team/army/etc. come searching for them

There's lots more I could add and I'm not sure if this is explained in the best way, but there you have it.

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[snoopyhughes]

it's you, it's you, it's really all for you (nh13)

Happy winter fic exchange @puckology101 !!! For the plot I had in mind, I didn't think a Swiss Alps trip was realistic but I hope this does the trick. I tried to detail the beautiful Banff scenery as best as I could (especially for someone who has never been!) so I hope you could truly envision that.

As always, @wyattjohnston Demi thank you so much for hosting this event for our community!

This is 2k+ words, I don't believe there's any mentions of any defining traits but I have not done a thorough check to ensure that this is safe for all to read. If you would like me to do that, shoot me a message and I'm more than willing to double check.

Title from Video Games by Lana del Rey (the live version, iykyk) this is loosely edited!

Nico Hischier, in hind sight, was thrilled that Switzerland was not a part of the four nations tournament. His logical, captain sense knows that he should want to play hockey all the time, work on his game, and he does really love international play. However, he needed a break. The high powered, adrenaline filled season had taken a toll on his body and his mental capacity.

But deep down, he was thrilled. Because that means he gets to go on a trip with his best friend, Y/N. When some of the guys who weren't going to four nations decided to get a group together and take a trip to Banff, complete with skiing, the beautiful winter scenery, and two hot tubs on the property, he jumped on the opportunity, even faster when he knew Y/N could come with.

Dawson insisted that he invited his girlfriend because he promised her a trip on the all star break but she ended up not being able to go. Soon enough, almost all of the guys were inviting their partners, save for Luke who insisted on bringing his best friend Dylan Duke, never one for formalities with girls.

Nico was chronically single, but always by choice. He does not have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he's tried to show you how much he loves you, more than a friend, but it never works. Either you're lovingly clueless or you don't feel the same way, the latter causing a pit in his stomach. That being said, Nico will always pick you as his plus one to pretty much anything. If you ever suggest that he find a real date, someone who he might want to be romantically involved with, he shrugs it off immediately, letting you know that "he doesn't have time for a relationship right now" and that "you make him happier than any relationship ever could."

Everything leading up to the trip was relatively smooth. The private jet flight (that you'd never get used to) was like flying on a resort, you were able to get time off work with no problem, and even the packing didn't seem like as much of a chore as it usually does. But things started getting interesting as soon as you, Nico, and the group made it to the ski resort. You always knew you'd be sharing a room, that much never bothered you. You'd shared hotel rooms with him before, having not been a first timer on an all star break trip, which is essentially what this was. Coincidentally, all of the people on the trip ended up with rooms right next to each other. When you opened the door, you saw one huge king bed staring right at you.

You and Nico shared a look, assuming that your room may have gotten mixed up with the others. Sure enough, when you knocked on everyone's door, they all had the same set up as you. The only room with two beds on the floor, it seemed, belong to Luke and Dylan. You thought of asking them to switch, but you could only imagine Luke's dramatics and theatrics if you tried to suggest switching rooms.

"It really doesn't bother me, Y/N. As long as it doesn't bother you, I'm fine with it. Besides, did you see the size of that bed? It could probably fit a third person in there also." You really didn't know why you were so nervous. Of course, you had known you had feelings for Nico. But you always felt that Nico could never have any feelings for you. You had watched Nico flirt with girls in the bar after games, even on the trips you went on, awkwardly tagging along on his side. It was the same way he flirted with you sometimes. It made you feel like you were just another girl for him to flirt with. He had a naturally flirty personality, and you were just another person who came in contact with that.

As you opened the door to the bedroom again, accepting your fate, you took a second to look around and truly take in the room. You were amazed at what you saw. When you first walked into the room, you could clearly see the bathroom, with a jacuzzi tub and a waterfall shower, and even a double vanity sink. In addition to the huge bed, there was a massive TV set up across from it, some of the softest towels you've ever countered in your life, and a huge glass sliding door. When you moved the curtains, you couldn't help the gasp that had came over your mouth.

Nico had seen tons of beautiful mountain scenery in his lifetime, growing up in Switzerland. He had seen the mountains, the snow, all of it. And sure, you had seen snow. It was usually tinged with grey and brown, tire tracks and footprints ruining its true beauty. This, this pure, unaltered beauty of the mountain scene in Banff, it took your breath away. Nico couldn't help but smile, seeing your pure joy, watching the breath get stolen from your mouth as you observed the scenes around you.

"Nico this is... wow," you gasped, leaning in when he wrapped his arm around you, feeling him rest his head atop of yours. Your heart fluttered, feeling like you were meant to be here. "You're my best friend," you smiled nuzzling into his side. "Yeah, my best friend."

You should've known with the room situation that the guys were up to something. After all, Dawson insisted on booking the rooms, saying that Nico deserved a break from his "captain duties," causing Nico to rebut that "booking rooms on a vacation is hardly a 'captain's duty.'" But when you turned away from the mountains, you were beginning to discover that it was possible that you and Nico had gotten the "honeymoon suite." You had your own private hot tub on the deck of your room, the first floor patio backing up into a beautiful mountain scene. You imagined snow falling onto your face and hair as you and Nico lounged in the hot tub together. Your cheeks heat up at the thought, causing you to pull away from Nico. You couldn't allow yourself to get too caught up in the what ifs. If Nico really wanted to make a move on you, he would make a move, not the same move he had made hundreds of other times.

You found yourself in your bathroom getting ready with the other girls that were on the trip. Nico had already gotten ready and was downstairs at the bar drinking with the guys. Since you had gotten in to the resort after 5, you knew no skiing would be happening, so you made reservations at a nice restaurant in downtown Banff.

"So, how's it going with you and Nico? Do you like the room?" Dawson's girlfriend giggling, nudging you in the side. "I knew that couldn't have been accidental. Dawson seemed way too excited watching me trying to figure out how to unlock the room door," you laughed, nudging her right back. "It's so foolish. You both clearly love each other, but neither of you will make a move. It makes no sense. If you guys won't do it, someone else had to try it." You sighed, putting the cap on your lip gloss.

"I know what you mean, but I really don't think Nico likes me back. He acts the same way with every other girl he's come across. If Nico really wants to be with me, I want him to make it known, make it obvious. Do something that lets me know that it's me only, not me and the girls at the bar, not me and the girls who wait for him after games, just me." Whether you realized it or not, the other girls were silently taking notes, and as soon as you went to the bathroom at dinner, they told Nico.

When you arrived with the girls at the restaurant, you learned the guys were already waiting at a table. Nico's eyes lit up when he saw you, smiling wide and blushing at your prolonged eye contact. As you came closer to the table, he took a step toward you, pulling you into a hug. His large hand ran along your back as he pulled you in close, causing goosebumps to raise up your arms and on the back of your neck.

"You look absolutely stunning," he whispered in your ear, causing your cheats to heat up, a smile just as big as Nico's. Nico only pulled away to pull your chair out for you, again causing your cheeks to heat up, the girlfriends smiling around you, although you had genuinely no idea because you couldn't stop staring at Nico.

They wondered how you couldn't see how much he cared for you, more than anyone, especially any other girl. Even the guys could see how much he cared for you. The girls understood deep down, knowing how difficult it can be to be able to fully trust a man, especially if you had been hurt in the past by one. Because yes, they were taking notes to share with Nico. But they really didn't need to. And everything they told him, he already knew.

He knew exactly where you'd want to eat, knowing that you craved your comfort food when you were tired. It was the perfect place to eat after a travel day, and getting to the hotel when it was already dark. He knew your preferred seating choice, and of course he knew that you would want a table with a view of the mountains. He didn't care how much it cost him, or that he had to name drop himself (and Luke) to get the table with the view. All that mattered was that he could sit across from you, and watch you admire the view, while he admired you, which was really all that mattered to him.

And nothing felt more perfect than when the rest of the couples started either making their way back to the resort or to the next stop on their drinking trip down the Main Street in Downtown, you and Nico stayed. The two of you stayed, his hand softly brushing yours as you talked, him with his back to the window, taking that spot specifically so that you could see the scenery. And even as everyone left, leaving the two of you at the table alone, all he wanted to do was look at you. The way you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed, even the soft yawn you let out towards the end of the night made him smile, his cheeks hurting at the end of the night.

When the uber dropped you two off at the resort at the end of the night, Nico held the door open for you, helping you back into the room. When he moved from the front of your view and you saw what he had done, you couldn't stop the gasp from coming from your mouth. How he had done it while being at the restaurant and you being the last to leave the room, you truly didn't know. But you didn't need the logistics, because it all settled in for you.

It's you. It's always you. It always has been, and always will be. The most beautiful bouquets of your favorite flowers sat around the room, no flower petals on the floor because you both agreed that that was impractical. A bucket of champagne sat cooling right by the glass doors that outlooked the view, the most perfect view. It was then you realized that it was more than Dawson who picked this room, it was Nico, wanting to share the space with you. It was Nico who knew how much you'd love the view. It's Nico. It always has been, and it always will be.

When your eyes locked from across the room, your eyes finally looking up at his, which you knew had been on yours the whole time, you couldn't cross the room fast enough. And when your lips locked with his, everything else floated away. It was like nothing else mattered. As the snow fell in the background just behind you, you knew that it didn't matter where you were, and it didn't matter who came in the way. It was always you.

[johns-prince]

1967 is decidedly peak year for Lennon-McCartney as John and Paul were reportedly and observably the closest they ever been. Coming and going together, John always hanging around Paul's house, practically inseparable.

Then somewhere from the end of 1967 to the beginning of 1968, India happens, and just all of a sudden these two are having a falling out? For no real reason? Go on, you can't believe that.

1967, we know John and Paul started taking LSD together. While they were close before, tripping out like this gave them access to getting much closer to each other than before. We know the experience of dissolving into each other through that eye contact thing was described by Paul as both disturbing, but good, and other subsequent trips with John as fantastic because of this new access to each other in ways they hadn't realized was probably possible.

There really isn't much of John talking about these specific trips with Paul, but considering how insistent he had been to take LSD with Paul, and the fact they continued to take it together to the point even Jane was jealous of John getting to experience that with Paul—he was probably over the moon about it. Finally, he gets to experience this much much deeper connection with Paul, melds them into one, their thoughts and feelings becoming singular.

Aside from how much closer John and Paul had gotten, it seems the Beatles at a whole were as close as ever. You have their trip to Greece in the same year, and how there were talks about them buying an island and living on it together.

1967 was really the year for the Beatles, for John and Paul especially.

Still, there's reservations. Paul mentions how you can't come back from the kind of experience he shared with John. You could say that he meant between all them, but that's only because Paul has a habit of including the other two whenever he's uncomfortable with the strong use of “I, me, myself,” in conjugation with John in certain contexts. We were jealous, we loved him, we felt like he was leaving us. Paul only briefly mentions George and Ringo, like a second thought, when describing his first LSD trip with John.

But it was just Paul and John, and I'm sure there were many other subsequent trips that involved solely them.

So they can't go back. Their relationship has changed in a fundamental way that both excites and pleases and disturbs Paul. We can only presume John wasn't as disturbed by it as he was pleased by getting to have this closeness with Paul that no one else would be able to share in. It was all their own.

Paul loved the Lennon-McCartney relationship for everything that it was, but he probably didn't want it to swallow up his whole self/identity (which is normal) Additionally, while I believe Paul is actually pretty straight heterosexual male, I do believe he had this special exception for John—and how can you reconcile that? I don't think Paul had the emotional and mental capacity to quite start to confront the fact there was some romantic/sexual tension between him and John that couldn't just be explained away.

For comparison, Yoko was willing to let her whole identity be swallowed up in the JohnandYoko partnership and relationship that we know today. Because it was technically giving John everything he needed from a partner that would keep him satiated or delusional enough for her to keep him and his connections and finances under her thumb. Even when it inevitably frustrated her that she felt living and thriving off of John's coattails, she made the choice to forgo her individualism and identity for what being with someone like John could give her. There would be no Yoko Ono in the papers and in any relevance without John Lennon.

It was kind of a perfect storm because Yoko and John were both very insecure people, fearful of failure and being a failure and being left behind, whether that be by others or the world.

In another essay I would point out that Yoko got with John because she needed him, needed him to help her complete herself, to transform her into a cultural and artistic icon. I'm not sure she always necessarily wanted him by choice as she needed him as means to an end.

Paul didn't exactly need to be with John as much as he wanted to be John, he wanted to be by John, next to, creating, collaborating, existing with. That's why in a way it was kind of silly for John to fear Paul going off on a solo career after writing yesterday. If Paul wanted to leave John and the others he could've, but he didn't. He wanted to be a Beatle, he wanted to be John's partner, to continue making music together until they were old men. Paul chose to be with John because he wanted to be. Simple as.

Anyway, Paul might have his own complexes and issues but Paul wasn't dealing with the black hole in his chest like John was. He had his insecurities, but Paul never needed to meld his entirety with another to try and make himself complete. Paul was much more secure in himself than John, even if he had to fake it at times, Paul always seemed to know himself better. Paul didn't carry around a self-hatred and lack of self worth like John did.

From an outsiders perspective, I can't fault Paul for not either wanting to be John's everything and anything, and not being able to be that infinite everything and anything for John—because of the time, the place, the sex, all the psychosexual bullshit in between, and because in the end it probably would've devoured them.

I doubt John knew how to deal with it either. John was always prone to extremes, one or the other, you love me fully unconditionally or you don't. What made the whole affair unfair was that he had the hardest time believing anyone could love him fully unconditionally. And Paul did (he still does!) but there's only so much a normal human being with flaws and hangups of his own can take.

By 1968 it seemed like John was hardly in a great state—increasingly abusing substances, feeling completely trapped by his first marriage (no fault of Cynthia, she tried so hard to make it work and make him happy), smothered by expectations, Brian's death (he's cursed y'know, everyone who's ever loved him dies on him), and probably some kind of mental illness brought on by it all—John wouldn't have been in a very stable mindset to really consider or even care too much about any repercussions about leaving his first wife and child to then go gallivanting as a free man, with his best male friend, collaborator, and partner.

But Paul, steadfast, moderate and conservative, not yet completely in the mental anguish shitter like John is, would be conscious enough of these consequences, what it could mean for the band, for them. These things mattered. And maybe John's a special case but Paul's not gay so how could it work to begin with? If he can't make any justifications for it or excuses (maybe if I had been a girl I could have...) then it just can't be done.

Yeah we love each other yeah we want to be in each others pockets till the day we croak, we feel like we NEED each other like air in lungs (yeah we might've fucked) but there's nothing to do about it so we just need to go on like usual and keep it at that.

Because it worked fine before, the way we were dealing with it. Why try to fix something that isn't broken?

But it was broken.

John wanted more but Paul couldn't give it to him. Paul has a right to how he feels, we can never say exactly what, and he wasn't in any wrong in denying or rejecting John if that's what happened.

But, I've always believed too that Paul always had an unrealistic expectation of his own relationship with John.

Because it's just not fair to expect John to keep on going on like everything is normal and his relationship with Paul and all the feelings and wants that entails are normal.

Not holding similar feelings for a friend is just as valid as holding deeper feelings for a friend and finding you can't stay friends due to not being able to go back on these feelings.

But why couldn't Paul have John, and Linda, and a big family, and John. Why can't he have his cake and eat it to. Why couldn't John have his relationship with Yoko and still have his partnership with Paul.

Because they aren't normal best friends that's why. Their partnership wasn't normal. Even Paul admits to it. Paul had to “make way” for Yoko because in a sense he was John's first girlfriend. Of course Yoko couldn't be secure in her marriage with John if Paul was still in the picture. Even if Paul doesn't understand the depth of meaning behind this because he's preposterous doesn't make it any less obvious. And don't think for a second John would've made it any easier for Linda, and like hell Linda would've put up with it.

So, John was “if we can't be lovers we can never be friends,” and Paul was, “I'll have my cake and I'll eat it to.”

I'm not trying to paint anyone as a villain in this. Both sides are understandable, both sides don't actually want to lose the other, both sides love each other, they just have different perspectives and feelings on the matter.

It's whether these differences can be reconciled and reasonable compromises can be made.

But we're talking about John and Paul and as we know, these differences were not reconciled and they were not reasonable men to be making reasonable compromises. Also they were two men.

John wanted all or nothing. Paul couldn't give all, because it's unrealistic and because Paul probably already thought he was giving John as much of him as he could reasonably give. But it wasn't enough.

If they could have kept each other and their relationship as it was despite getting married, I do believe Paul would have had no problem keeping Linda and his kids in one box, and his special little relationship with John in another box. They were able to do it before with John's marriage to Cynthia, why couldn't the same apply?

We know why. Cynthia was never a real, genuine threat to Paul and the Beatles (but mainly Paul) in the end, John always chose to go off the other boys, to go stay nights over at Paul's home instead of staying home with his wife and kid. She simply didn't interfere.

The many girls Paul screwed around with, while certainly put John on edge, and he hardly liked or got along with any, weren't anything too serious and at that time John was willing to put up with it or he hadn't the capacity to really evaluate his life as it was and his relationship and feelings towards Paul.

But Linda was a genuine threat. She wasn't going away. Paul loved her, she could give him everything. And what could that mean for John, especially if he had been making his feelings known, he was pushing for something deeper, definitive, with Paul? How could John stand a chance.

Yoko was nothing like Cynthia. How John treated her and their relationship was nothing like his last marriage. Paul was no longer the sun in John's universe, it was Yoko, and for once Paul was actually put on edge, similar to that of Stu, if not worse. She was his wife, his partner, a woman, a girl. Since Paul wasn't a girl then what chance did he have to put a stop to it, what right did he have to say anything?

John starting it by bringing Yoko into their sessions as if to make a point. Maybe Paul got the point of he didn't not entirely but maybe he was tired and can't Paul McCartney get a little tired of these games when he's hopped skipped jumped and crawled to try and prove to John each time that yes I love, yes I won't leave you willingly, yes I'll put up with you because I love you and you love me right? We're in this together for the long haul.

Can't go back to compartmentalizing relationships outside of Lennon-McCartney, and it seemed their relationship couldn't remain as it were with wives and children between them. Things were different now, they were different. John and Paul had grown, and while their past comments about sticking together as partners even after the Beatles go bust, even in their old age, is cutesy and sweet and coming from young boys who really didn't know any better but knew they loved each other and loved creating together—what's to become of them now that Pandora's box had been opened.

It's all led up to the point when things begin to breakdown, the band starts to pull apart, relations splinter, and John starts bringing up divorce, divorce from the Beatles, divorce from Paul.

The details we won't be privy to, we can only speculate and theorize and piece the puzzle pieces. But it's such a short time frame for such a massive change from John and Paul's relationship in 1967—almost always found together, John at Paul's home, John and Paul arriving together to the studio, taking walks, dissolving into each other—to how they treated and behaved toward each other in 1968, especially after India.

Without proper communication, without making the effort to confront the reality of what they were to each other and what that might mean, plus the drugs and the alcohol, I'm not surprised these unexplained feelings between them began festering.

I've lost the plot somewhere halfway in the post. But something happened.

The final straw was probably in India. But before India, the tension must have been building, like the calm before a storm. Taking LSD together changed the way they saw their relationship, or maybe simply gave them a more honest approach to it, a much less inhibited understanding of what they meant to each other. It scared Paul, or worried him, but he still liked it, which might've been just as worrisome. John was probably thrilled about it, loved experiencing it with Paul, and it might have enlightened him further on what he actually wants. Though drugs should never be trusted. Then Brian died. The Beatles were shattered with grief. John was beginning to spiral. And then it was 1968, and in February the boys went to India. Everything changed significantly there. John and Paul spent a lot of time alone in one room. They were seen together a lot. John often gazing. Something happened. Something happened and we don't know what but it did. Sex? Maybe, maybe not. A confession? Maybe, maybe not. They come back, worse than for better. John works tirelessly to break Paul's heart and drive him to some sort of reaction. To fight, to stay. Love me love me. Paul couldn't or wouldn't because "if I had been a girl then maybe I could have..." but he wasn't so he they had to make way for Yoko. Paul loves Linda, John loves Yoko. They get married a week apart. John and Paul divorce the Beatles breakup. John really didn't actually ever love Paul and they didn't grow up in the same bed or write eyeball-to-eyeball and hey did you know he loved Yoko because she reminds him of a bloke in drag? She's me in drag. John actually manages to instill some of that insecurity and fear in Paul—about his talent, about who he is on his own, whether or not John ever loved actually him. They fight nasty like bitter exes. Paul is the first to lay down the arms with Dear Friend. John responds with Jealous Guy. They're on and off. Paul continues to try to make the effort to connect with John again, despite John and despite Yoko. The lost weekend happens, a total mystery in itself. Calls are missed and time still passes. John comes to the inevitable conclusion that he still loves Paul no matter how hard he tries to not love him, that he can't escape. John backtracks a lot. They start talking again. They occasionally see each other. They rent a studio to use after the new year in 1981. John is suddenly killed in December of 1980. Paul keeps John's name and legacy alive for years and years and years. Paul reminisces about their shared past like a widower. Their relationship will be compared to a marriage, a love affair like that of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, and even soulmates. They are only ever known as brothers, collaborators, and friends.

The greatest songwriting duo that ever was. The lovers that never were.

[hiddengiggles]

Let’s talk about consent and smart ways to play

Yes, consent can be revoked at any time. That’s normal and your boundaries should be reexamined regularly as part of your own check ins.

No, it doesn’t mean either party did anything wrong, it can just be a change of what either wants. Shaming either party for changing their mind serves no one. Don’t act like the person who was receiving the action is unfair or a “tease” for changing their mind. Don’t act like the person giving the action was bad or wrong for doing the thing for which they had consent at the time because you didn’t like it.

Yes, it’s awesome to be able to open yourself up and be vulnerable for different activities and kinks. When you don’t have a partner to engage with regularly, it can be thrilling to finally find a person to play with, I know.

No, blanket consent for EVERYTHING right from the jump is NOT a good idea. If you’re connecting with a play partner the first few times, start slow and expand. Feeling enough trust to give consent for some kinks can and probably should take time so uou can be really comfortably vulnerable

Yes, it is exciting to safely meet play partners from the online world when you are BOTH ready for it! When you’re safe about meeting (getting to know them slowly, setting a neutral meeting point, letting a few people know where you’re going and the name of your friend, etc) it can be a great way to get time with your kinks. When it isn’t forced, rushed, or for too long a time period, the organic connection can be magical!

No, you should not assume each party is on the same page unless you’ve communicated multiple times, especially in writing. If you had a phone call a month ago that talked about boundaries and assume all is well, you’re not actually playing safely. Some people write out rules, some BDSM players sometimes make it a “contract”, but a verbal conversation will not protect you or help you if worse comes to worst. This is especially important for partners still new to playing together. Record the hard conversations in some way.

Yes, you can start a conversation on boundaries and kinks with generalization. Example on my end, my husband and I both are okay with pictures and videos taken of us and posting them. In the early days of our relationship, we checked every time we played “Is it okay if I film this?” but after years together we’ve both agreed it’s okay to take them anytime, though we check with each other if we’re comfortable with what was captured regularly.

No, a general conversation is not enough. Continuing my example, we both have boundaries for ourselves and for each other to make sure we’re okay with it being posted (or sometimes sold). Earlier today, I put on a really pretty lingerie set for some birthday giggles. However, I stopped and asked “If you wanted to film this, would you be comfortable with me being seen in this publicly? Our usually boundaries call for a top and bottoms covering”. He paused, considered, and said no, so I put on a tank top and shorts too. Get specific with every aspect of your play, from your comfortable clothing levels, to where content can be posted, to areas you don’t want touched that day that you might normally be okay with otherwise. Assuming you already know the answer is not enough, say it again.

Consent is a lot bigger and more complicated than just this post, so talk about it A LOT with your partner(s). The biggest key to a good relationship in and out of kink (friendship, mentorship, romantic relationship) is to NEVER STOP TALKING. Communication is key, talk about your boundaries and consent over and over and over. They will change and grow, and so will you.

Mistakes and miscommunications will happen, but it’s important to talk about them like the grown people you are. A lot of consent issues with new partners aren’t malicious, they can easily stem from either party being unclear or simply not thinkinh to ask about something that could be a boundary issue. Unless it was a blatant “I KNEW the boundary and disregarded it purposely because I wanted to do it” situation, be an adult and talk about it. If you’re adult enough to be engaging in activities or kinks for adults, you need to follow through and talk about what went right and wrong. Learn and grow from the stuff you didn’t do as well before, accept responsibility for your part, and move on, with or without that partner.

[pepstarvanmoon]

Someone please get El out of there

Is it not obvious what this is? Do you really not know what you should be doing? SAY THE DAMN WORDS.

Why do you think she’s doubting you? Can you really not tell?

Mike, sweetheart, your relationship balancing skills are a terror to your friends, family, and romantic partners.

This is why people found Midleven cuter in S1/2, because the day you made it official marked the beginning of El’s doubts in your feelings for her.

You cannot seem to grasp that El is your friend AND your girlfriend, and somehow treating El like a girlfriend equates to treating her like shit.

You cannot make this up. El needs WORDS because Mike’s ACTIONS actively make her feel unloved. She does not feel it, so she wants some kind of verbal/written affirmation because of how emotionally distant Mike feels.

(someone talented please edit Elmike to Hamilton’s Burn or send an existing edit my way, thank you ♡)

His actions do not align to her expectations of love, not that it’s a good idea to let TV define romance for you, but you’re allowed to want/expect certain things in a relationship, and El isn’t getting that.

And let’s not act like Mike isn’t good at making people feel loved/cared for. Will is in love with him for a reason. El loves him for a reason.

(It was difficult to pick scenes for this because I’ve read arguments for how these aren’t really romantic at all, but from 12/13-year old, “fresh out the lab” Eleven, it’s as romantic as romance gets imo)

El has been trying to convince herself that their relationship is better than it is, because once she admits to herself that it’s not working, what does she do?

Her day-to-day life isn’t that great. Sure, she has her new family in the Byers, but her dad recently passed away and she’s being bullied at school. She has no friends outside of Will, and while I’m sure their relationship is great (wasn’t explored that much tbh), he can’t keep her from feeling isolated, and his own trauma with bullying keeps him from standing up for her.

One good, unchanging thing she has is her relationship with Mike. He’s the one who took her in and housed her, he taught her what it meant to be a friend, and… I’m having a bit of trouble here lol. I was going to say:

Never used her for her powers (not true lol)

When she was burnt out, he never expected more from her (not true LOL)

Never treated her differently for her powers (for this one, he found her awesome in an awestruck way rather than a Brenner “I’m gonna exploit this” way, but when he thought she lied about Will/hurt Lucas he was on her ass lmao)

My girl has those ‘first love’ blinders on. I keep having to ask myself what she sees in him besides ‘first person to accept me + we kissed’ like besides the latter, Dustin was right there. A lot of the parts of Mike I enjoy don’t reveal themselves around El outside S1 (barely S2). He’s shown as caring and protective, but he’s like that for all of his friends?? Especially when they’re in danger so idk what’s different. I’d have to peruse the milkvan tag to get a hint, but I’ll probably get a better idea watching Sleeping Beauty.

I’m a firm believer that Mike kept it ambiguous because he didn’t want to admit what the real problem was to Will.

“I couldn’t tell El that I love her.” - simple as that. Must be something about Will that has him holding his tongue because after S3 I doubt he’d have that much trouble telling Lucas.

Are you embarrassed? If you thought it wasn’t that serious you wouldn’t have told Will that it was something you “can’t come back from”. Is love serious to you, Mike? Because you can’t love El in the way she wants, do you think you’re incapable of it? Do you feel wrong? Do you not want Will to know?

Hit a little too close to home, huh.

(and let’s not get into the "team, friends, best friends" scene they had together like what was the point in having them make contact a SECOND time.

They already established a connection between them. Mike could’ve asked to be a team after the "guess it's gonna be up to us again," and Will could’ve taken the painting offscreen (the focus shot of Will grabbing the painting gets me so bad like WHY), but instead they wanted them to blush and giggle over each other AGAIN before they got to the van.

Make it make non-Byler sense I'm begging.)

You’d think that’d be good enough, but Mike still feels conflicted and has to make it Will’s problem (actually, Will kinda made it his problem. The way they shot the triple take makes it seem like Will dragged Mike away for another talk because of how spacey he was being. Who knows.)

Tf do you mean you didn’t know what to say? “Maybe if I said that thing” so you DO know? It’s painfully cut and dry if you take emotions out of it. El wants Mike to say that he loves her, so to fix this, to come back from that fight, Mike has to say he loves her.

Why is it such an internal battle for him? If I were to take it at face value, I’d chalk it up to what he said in the van scene.

So your solution is to push your relationship to a point that has El crying and throwing all the loveless letters you sent to the floor? To tell her that she’s incredible and a superhero and that she should know how you feel about her because, despite the tears streaming down her face and her DIRECTLY asking you if you still love her, she must know how amazing she is too?

NEWSFLASH, Queerler! She’s learning just how much she doesn’t need you right now, so I guess it’s time to face your fears!

This isn’t what I meant, but go off ig (don’t, actually, this is awful for everyone involved).

No way you expect El to buy this. You’ve expressed this fear of "losing El" to Will, I’ll give you that, but nothing you’ve done IN FRONT OF EL has conveyed this. Your letters weren’t helping, and you being there in person only made it worse.

Eagerly awaiting the day Michael Wheeler stops lying.

Well, I guess he doesn’t lie ALL the time.

[valleyian]

Thoughts on Cursed Child becoming a movie

A very random late night rant, but here we go. I’ve seen a lot of fake trailers circle around the web and on social media in regards to a potential HPCC movie. And whilst that’s all fun and games, I also want to talk about the actual consequences a movie like that would have on both the fandom and people.

First off I need people to understand that HPCC is an (almost) separate entity of the Wizarding World franchise, being mostly excluded or regarded as “non canon” by the mainstream. However this does NOT mean JKR doesn’t receive royalties from the play, she still earns money from it. The ethics of spending money on the play is also something to be discussed, however I want to specifically talk about the consequences that a potential movie would have on the HPCC story and the representation within it.

First of, HPCC although it has controversies, is in my opinion the best installation in the Harry Potter universe when it comes to representation. What do I mean by that? Since HPCC is a theatre play, it follows general casting rules which in most cases is colour blind. This is implemented in most theatre productions where ethnicity of actors do not matter, HPCC is not an exception. This means that a lot of POC actors get opportunities to be on stage and portray these characters, not to mention the deliberate casting of Hermione Granger. (Although I will note that this casting has caused a lot of stir, in addition to the fact most of the productions have yet to cast a POC lead in the role of Albus, not counting Tokyo or Brazil).

Although only speculation on my part, I can’t imagine a HPCC movie would be able to deliver on the representation shown in the play, with the numerous casts that have been. I also would assumed they’d return to the white casting of Rose and Hermione, which obviously would erase the theatre play castings purpose.

Then onto my second point; being queer representation. Although it’s not confirmed 100%, and also wouldn’t be able to be confirmed as long as JKR has her dirty grubby hands on the IP, Scorbus is as close to canon as possible. This became evident after the script rewrite, a rewrite that was deliberately written by the current queer actors of the play. It was also written as a retaliation agains JKRs bigoted statements which she had began to spread at that time. So as of now, the play leaves the relationship between Albus and Scorpius ambiguous, yet it is very obvious there is a romantic undertone. This is the closest to any LGBTQ rep in the Harry Potter Universe, (no I will not count Dumbledore and Grindewald) and it means so much to people. A movie by Warner Bros and directed by JKR would most certainly remove all aspects of this, and return to the original script with the very forced addition of Scorpius x Rose. (Nothing against the ship, but I’m against the way it was used as a last minute ploy to remove any assumed gayness).

A subsection to this topic I want to touch upon is also queer representation within the casting. It’s not uncommon for theatre to feature a diverse cast both in ethnicity and orientations. HPCC again is no exception. Over the shows 8 year long run, there has been countless of queer and trans actors who have played in it. There have been gay and trans leads in the roles of Albus and Scorpius as well as the ensemble, and this representation is crucial. Especially since this is an IP within JKRs hands, casting people of said groups is such a powerful move. I can almost guarantee a movie would NOT be as inclusive.

And lastly, if there is a movie, should you support it? It’s not my place to say, and I will also acknowledge I am hypocritical when it comes to what I chose to consume and spend money on in regards to the Harry Potter franchise. However I also want to acknowledge that when you are supporting the theatre play, you do give money to JKR, but you also give money to the numerous queer and POC actors in the cast, a lot of whom are activist. I personally will stay away from any HPCC content that erases any of the current representation added. Unless the movie follows the new script, with POC and queer actors, as well as minimal influence for JKR, I WILL NOT support it. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Also, feel free to correct me if I stated something incorrect or false in this rant!

[ginho001]

YAYYYYY I LOVE ALL OF YOUR INHUN HEADCANONS 🤍🤍🤍🤍 I especially love reading the cute traits and habits they have. And of course the omegaverse 👀 is a big treat, I loved it a whole lot thank youuuu. Hell yes to the gihussy and 💦

Now talk to me about how they feel about each other, how they act when they're together, date ideas, things they love doing for each other, and... sexytimes 👀

anon ur lowk my best friend. i'll share my personal hcs below, but before I just wanna plug this fic that in my mind is the closest manifestation to how I believe the two would interact. this author is amazing and every fic they've written for 457 is ART and if you're looking for a great read, this is it pookie ong ong

ANYWAYS ok ok lemme spit (go read it tho if you haven't already on GOD)

starting off with gi-hun, in my mind he's very demure when it comes to the relationship. behind closed doors he likes the domesticity, physicality and romantic gestures. REASONING BEING: i firmly believe gi-hun never would have married if not for societal and familial pressure, now whether or not its bc he's gay or not (i'm personally on the fence abt that) is up to y'alls discretion. but back to the original point: he had a very idealized view of marriage until he actually got married, and something broke inside him when his marriage failed, and in-ho knows that to some degree. I imagine on valentines or some other holiday, they're just sitting in the bedroom together in the dark, and gi-hun quietly divulges he used to do big romantic gestures like this with his wife, even when he didn't have a lot to offer until things got bad in the end, and it makes him SO tender and sensitive in private, let alone in public. HOWEVER i believe this only applies to gi-hun in korea. When they go on vacation or end up going to the US, he's much more comfortable with hand holding and displaying his ring on his finger instead of keeping it on a chain around his neck like he did in korea. THAT BEING SAID. he loves in-ho. in a deeper way than he loved his wife, and he knows it. the trust is deeper, and he's true to himself, which is something that he could never do before without being shamed for how pitiful he was. in-ho accepts him in that pitifulness an out and he loves him for it. the attraction to how handsome he is and his cute little mannerisms come after.

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS LONG WINDED SORRY

on the smaller side, gi-hun really likes in-ho's hair. i think he misses when his was longer, so he's always mussing it up with his fingers.

when not in peril, gi-hun (surprisingly) loves when in-ho makes his shitty dad jokes. he likes that he can laugh with him, feels freer when he does. he knows that between them there is nothing pre-conceived, they know the worst of each other, and gi-hun looks forward to the times coming where they learn the best.

gi-hun can't cook for shit, so he splurges on expensive pastries sometimes, as he learns in-ho has a sweet tooth.

like i was talking about previous, in korea their dates aren't elaborate, they are just colleagues or friends going out to dinner, celebrating something or other with drinks. however when they head to Thailand or the US or wherever else they decide, they do old men shit. sorry, still not that elaborate. they just go on strolls, go sight-seeing, birdwatching, etc. occasionally they get gussied up in purdy suits and go into high rise sugar daddy restaurants, but primarily they are doing old man shit outside of when they are fucking. they smooch and hold hands gayly tho ofc

because i am a generic loser, i side with the "in-ho is obsessed w gi-hun" camp bc a) its true and b) its true so.

i think in-ho's obsession to some degree is fueled by his guilt. we know from HDH he still has some belief deep down that gi-hun is right, and hopes he can prove him wrong in the long run. Thus, his obsession comes from watching every micro-fucking-movement he makes and hyper analyzing like a doofus. he doesn't realize until there's a little bit of separation that there was actually a decent chunk of his hyperfixation that was actually just into him lowkey. gi-hun is different from his late wife in nearly every way save the fucking. stubbornness. hard angles and naivety, but beautiful in his humanity, something in-ho lost when his wife died. he falls in love because gi-hun has enough humanity for both of them, in spite of everything. he brings him back to the simple, past the whiskey and jazz in his sterile habitat back to the noise, something he didn't know he missed.

in-ho likes doing romantic things. bouquets, expensive cufflinks, decorating the kitchen with shitty streamers on holidays, bringing breakfast in bed. at first gi-hun was very "no, no, you don't have to" but when in-ho genuinely, unironically pitches a fit about it when gi-hun carries his breakfast in bed to the kitchen to eat at the table, gi-hun lets him. if he's not bringing him breakfast in bed he's making gi-hun a plate but feeding him off of his.

UHHHH NSFW BELOW THE CUT

these 2 have surprisingly high libidos for their age, and this is not to feed my say gex bias guys trust, its because when they r finally away from the games, their bodies aren't in survival mode and r like "oh i can fuck now" so they r getting it on like at the very, VERY least twice a week.

i am a bottom gi-hun truther. i personally don't see in-ho being willing to offer himself sexually in that way (as in reamed in the ass), which works out well for them because gi-hun gets a lot more out of it bottoming, aka the vulnerability and closeness. he likes when in-ho is right in his face during missionary, sweating and chewing on his lip because at first he is so, so scared of hurting him. they eventually figure out their groove, and gi-hun comes to find out in-ho has a spit-thing. at first he thinks it's a biting kink, but then it starts getting into spit as lube territory, or just sucking all on his neck not even to leave marks necessarily, just to see the sheen on his skin. gi-hun is less embarrassed about the times he accidentally drools thanks to that

they don't be going crazy in any positions bc old men, and in-ho's shoulder is probably fucked up from getting shot, so they're pretty generic. it takes them a wile to figure out gi-hun is flexible for no fucking reason. just one night they fucking missionary, in-ho grabs the thighs, overbalances and BOOM gi-hun's knees are bracketing his fucking head like no problem. ended up being a wobbly-leg kinda night for the both of em

gi-hun is a talker during sex. he's always asking if in-ho feels good, exclaiming his own satisfaction, etc etc. in-ho talks too, but sparingly because he doesn't want to lose control and start grunting and huffing like a wild animal. it still happens every so often though, because c'mon who wouldn't lose their shit if all the sudden you find out you can basically bend your hubby like a pretzel.

sometimes though they'll be tired as fuck but still have a libido, those times they just kinda spoon and hump, not really worried about the mess so much. those are the nights they'll talk real affectionate to eachother, and fiddle with their rings after bc they are married idc what u say.

OK MAYBE i'll share some abo stuff later as bonus, but this is already SO MUCH LONGER than i meant it to be so I will bid y'all adieu.

[shadowww-bunny]

↪︎ 💌Relationships with Dean Winchester be like:

🥃 Dean is not used to romantic long-term relationships, emotional attachment is difficult for him, so it will take a very (really VERY) long time before the hunter confesses his feelings to you. He will hesitate for a long time, try to suppress this aching feeling in his chest that appears when he thinks about you, but when he realizes that it is useless, he will decide to give you two a chance.

🥃 Dean is not a master of deep, sappy speeches, so you should not expect cliched sentimental compliments from him as in the best melodramas. Dean is a man of action, it can be difficult for him to express his feelings in words, so he will demonstrate his affection for you in the only way he is familiar with: hugs, kisses, glances and, of course, passionate nights in bed.

🥃 Despite his harsh appearance, Dean enjoys physical contact. This is his love language. He doesn't miss an opportunity to touch you, whether it's a pat on the back, tucking your hair behind your ear, or jokingly nudging you. So don't be surprised if Dean "accidentally" falls on you or his hand ends up where it shouldn't be.

🥃 Dean is used to being the protector, the one who controls everything, so your care confuses him. The hunter's lifestyle makes him subconsciously look for a trick and doubt whether he deserves it. But every time you praise, compliment, and gentle treatment, he melts and even embarrasses. Dean can pretend he doesn't need it, but he appreciates it more than he show.

🥃 Dean has always dealt with his negative emotions alone, and at first he will wear this mask with you. It will take a lot of time, persuasion, and words of love before Dean starts showing you his fatigue, sadness, and pain. Of course, he still hides a lot, not wanting to burden you with his problems, but after you listen to him and support him, he feels much better.

🥃 Dean knows you well enough to notice when you're upset or just in a bad mood. He's not as good with words as Sam, but he has his own ways of comforting you. Usually, Dean puts you on his lap and hugs tightly, allowing to bury your face in his chest, as if it's the only shelter from the storm inside you. He kisses you in a silent promise to protect you from all the troubles in the world, and you know that it is.

🥃 Dean likes it when you wear his clothes. It usually happens in the morning, on a weekend, when you put on the first thing that comes to hand, and it turns out to be one of Dean's. Hunter is turned on by how adorable you look in his oversized T-shirt that barely covers your hips. All sleepy and sweet, and his. Only his.

🥃 Dean likes to distract you, especially when you're busy with something. He's acting like a cat demanding attention, and he won't let up until he gets what he wanted. When Sam is not around, Dean becomes even more needy and impatient. He tease you when you're focused on the research. Dean just lies on you, resting his head on your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shirt until you roll your eyes and start stroking his hair, eliciting a satisfied smile.

🥃 princess treatment. Dean enjoys taking care of you. It is important to him that you feel safe, loved and special, and he will do everything for this. Dean buckles your seat belt, carries your bags, and loves holding you in his arms, feeling how your delicate figure fits perfectly in his arms. He becomes so gentle only with you, and it's really cute.

🥃 Dean is jealous. He tries to suppress it, respecting your personal space, and stands somewhere nearby looking after you, but when some guy turns out to be too annoying, Dean immediately finds himself next to you. His hand rests possessively on your hip, and his murderous aura makes the guy quickly leave. However, the hunter won't let you go for a long time after that. He protects what is his.

[gottencents]

011: suddenly, I have a valentine

synopsis. SM Entertainment would’ve loved for FALLEN ANGELS and aespa to never share a stage — especially with Chanel possibly "corrupting" their prized “it girl,” Karina.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

Karina sighed, setting her phone down. She wasn’t mad—well, maybe a little frustrated. It wasn’t like Chanel didn’t care. If anything, Chanel had gone above and beyond to show how much she liked her. But sometimes, Karina wished Chanel would just… say it outright.

Still, she had to admit it was part of Chanel’s charm. Her awkwardness. Her nervous rambling. The way she tried so hard to make Karina smile, even when she didn’t need to.

“I just have to be patient,” Karina whispered to herself. “She’ll come around.”

Chanel threw her phone onto the couch, groaning loudly. How could she be so oblivious? She’d been so caught up in just enjoying her time with Karina—FaceTime calls that lasted until sunrise, casual dates that made her heart race, and the way Karina’s smile seemed to light up her whole world—that she’d completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day.

She paced her living room, muttering to herself. “Okay, Chanel. You need a plan. Something special. Something romantic. Something that doesn’t scream I’m a clueless lesbian who forgot Valentine’s exists.”

Her eyes landed on the kitchen. Home-cooked dinner? Candles? Fairy lights? She could make this work.

Chanel stood by the stove, nervously stirring the pot of sauce for the third time. She had never been this fidgety in her life. Usually, she’d laugh off nerves, masking them with jokes or charm. But tonight felt different. Tonight was important.

The sound of the doorbell made her jump. She wiped her hands on her apron and quickly glanced at her reflection in the microwave. Her hair was… acceptable. Her shirt didn’t have any accidental food stains. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

When she opened the door, Karina stood there, effortlessly beautiful, dressed in a soft pink sweater and jeans. Her smile was warm but curious, her head tilting slightly as she took in Chanel’s flustered expression.

“Hey,” Karina greeted softly.

“Hey,” Chanel replied, stepping aside to let her in. She closed the door behind her, suddenly hyperaware of how intimate her apartment felt with the low lighting and soft music playing in the background.

Karina looked around, her eyes landing on the table set for two, the candles flickering warmly. “This is… wow. You did all this?”

“Yeah,” Chanel said, scratching the back of her neck. “I, uh, kinda went into overdrive. I just… I wanted to make tonight special for you.”

Karina turned to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know.”

“I know,” Chanel said quickly. “But I wanted to. And also…” She hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Karina blinked, confused. “For what?”

“For being so oblivious,” Chanel admitted, her voice soft. “I mean, it took me forever to realize Valentine’s Day was even a thing, and I didn’t realize how important it might be to you. You’ve probably been dropping hints for weeks, and I just—”

“ baby ,” Karina interrupted, stepping closer.

Chanel stopped rambling, looking down at Karina with a mix of nervousness and guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Karina said, her tone firm but gentle. “I know relationships are new territory for you, and honestly… you’ve already done more than enough to make me feel special.”

Chanel let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I just don’t want you to think I’m not serious about this. About us.”

Karina’s expression softened even more. “I don’t think that at all. You’re trying, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Chanel nodded, her lips curving into a small, relieved smile. “Okay. But just so you know, I’m still going to spoil you tonight.”

Karina laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I’m not complaining.”

They moved to the table, where Chanel served the dinner she’d been stressing over for hours. Karina’s face lit up at the first bite.

“This is amazing,” Karina said, her voice full of genuine appreciation.

Chanel grinned, her confidence slowly returning. “Yeah? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Nope. You’re officially a better cook than me.”

“Good to know,” Chanel teased. “I’ll add that to my list of skills.”

After dinner, they settled on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. Chanel had queued up Karina’s favorite romantic movie, but her attention kept drifting to the girl beside her. The way Karina’s head rested against her shoulder, her soft laughter at the cheesy dialogue—it all felt surreal.

How did I get so lucky? Chanel thought.

“Why are you staring at me?” Karina asked, her voice amused.

Chanel blinked, realizing she’d been caught. “I wasn’t staring.”

Karina raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I was staring a little,” Chanel admitted. “But can you blame me? You’re kind of… perfect.”

Karina’s cheeks flushed, and she nudged Chanel playfully. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” Chanel shot back without thinking.

Karina froze for a moment, her gaze meeting Chanel’s. The air between them grew heavier, more charged.

“Say that again,” Karina whispered.

Chanel swallowed, her voice quieter but steadier this time. “Your dork.”

Karina smiled, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart. “Good. Because I like the sound of that.”

Chanel’s heart raced as Karina closed the gap, their lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. It was slow and gentle, as if neither of them wanted to rush the moment. Karina’s hand rested on Chanel’s cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin, while Chanel’s fingers found their way to Karina’s waist.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“So,” Chanel murmured, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Does this mean I get to call you my Valentine?”

Karina laughed softly, her eyes shining. “I thought that was obvious.”

Chanel grinned, her confidence returning. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Dork,” Karina said again, but this time, her tone was filled with nothing but affection.

“Your dork,” Chanel repeated, kissing her again.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

A/N: texts made to all be incoming on purpose for u to know who talking better <333

Taglist ( closed ) : @saysirhc @awkwardtoafault @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @1luvkarina @womanl0ver @hazel-tanthamore22 @deuxae @arihiu @spidrgamer

[noirleo]

Oooo, can i plz hear all your jealousy HC for the bayverse boys? :3 hope ur week is going well!

oh my god yes

jealous turtles from most to least ◡̈

(all turtles + reader are adults ♡)

1. raph

c’mon, did you expect anyone else?

being a middle child with three brothers, raph grew up sharing everything he had—his food, his clothes, his personal space. so when he finds someone he has feelings for, he makes a point that he’s not going to share with anyone.

his brothers prefer to take more subtle, graceful methods of claiming their s/os when they feel threatened. raphael does not have a subtle bone in his body.

if someone tries to hit on you while he’s there, he will physically put himself in between the two of you, glaring down at his prey target until they take the hint (and probably flexing his crossed arms as he does so. he doesnt do all of that lifting for nothing).

vern tried to chat you up, once, when you first met. raph swiftly handled it, and you’re not exactly sure what was said, but vern now makes a point to keep a very conservative amount of space between you and him at all times.

a lot of his jealousy comes from insecurity—he definitely thinks you could do better, find someone you could actually walk around with, show off to your friends and go on vacations with.

so how does he cope? by proving his indispensability to you. when you date raph, you don’t lift a finger. need something from the top cabinet? he’s got it in his hands before you even have to ask. want to see a sold out concert? how convenient, he just managed to find some floor seats for you and your friends

don’t ask how he got them, it’s really best for everyone if you don’t actually know (both legally and ethically speaking).

asking someone else for help (god forbid you ask vern or one of his brothers, especially leo) will probably end up in some icy silent treatment and very short yes/no answers to questions that can only be cured by insistent apologies and lots of kisses

2. mikey

oh, our beloved little mikey

mikey spouts confidence, but much like raphael, he is deeply afraid that you’ll leave him for someone whose complexion is a little less green

while raph’s jealousy is defensive, mikey’s is pleading. he needs a lot of verbal reassurance that you’re his, nobody else’s

even when he’s not feeling jealous or insecure about the relationship, he just likes to hear you say it—and once you do, he’ll believe it wholeheartedly, all doubts and anxieties set aside (for the time being, at least)

when you’re around others (and even when you’re not) mikey is extremely physically affectionate, and probably will mention to anyone who will listen in a very unsubtle manner that the two of you are dating and really, really happy together, thank you very much

if you’re sitting, you’re sitting on his lap (or so close that you might as well be). if you’re standing, you can bet that he’s got an arm slung around your waist or your shoulder—just so everyone in the room is clear who you came with and who you’re leaving with

3. donnie

donnie’s jealousy is quiet. he’s much less outward about his feelings of jealousy than raph or mikey, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

when you mention a creepy guy from one of your classes getting a little too close for your comfort, he’ll nod and empathize; little do you know, he’s got the guy’s social security number, address, and name of his childhood pet pulled up on his laptop within seconds.

mysteriously, he doesn’t really show up for class anymore. rumours float around about some pretty shady things hes done being sent to the dean, president, and every RA on campus.

you confront donnie, and he just shrugs innocently. huh, weird, guess it’s a good thing you guys don’t hang out anymore then right? and then he’ll change the subject, but the triumphant gleam in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed

if someone starts to get flirtatious with you while donnie’s around though? all bets are off.

standing at 6’8 and made of pure lean muscle, donnie is fully aware of how intimidating he is, and it radiates off of him.

all it takes is one glare, leering from over your shoulder, and suddenly the person trying to flirt with you has some very important business to handle on the opposite side of the room for the rest of the night.

when you turn around to see donnie standing behind you, one hand on the small of your back, he’s back to his relaxed, smiley self

4. leo

leo is definitely the least jealous of his brothers. he’s confident, bordering on arrogant, and knows what he brings to the table.

i mean, c’mon. the barista who wrote their number on your coffee cup may be cute and share your taste in music, but how many times have they saved new york from an alien invasion? can they do anything to protect you in the event of a foot clan takeover?

didn’t think so.

communicating and trust are monumental to leonardo. right off the bat, he’s very straightforward about his intentions with you, and expects the same level of loyalty from his partner

leo’s trust isn’t easily earned so if he trusts you, then he does so completely and wholeheartedly. if you say that you and someone else are just friends, then he won’t think twice about it

that’s not to say he never gets jealous though. he’s just much more lowkey about it than the others

if you mention offhand being catcalled on your way to the lair one night, you’ll have a private escort for the foreseeable future

hes not big on pda, but you can bet that if he catches someone else’s scent on you, especially another guy, he’ll be extra cuddly when he sees you

he’ll for sure try to play it off though and subtly give you something that smells like him. oh, you seem cold, here’s one of his hoodies that he conveniently had on hand. go ahead and put it on. he’s just looking out for you, no ulterior motives here.

you see right through him, but you’re willing to look the other way for some extra snuggles.

[ninallthatjazz]

Joke's on you, I am the pining idiot AND the oblivious dumbass not realizing they like me back!!

If you were in a fanfic, would you be the pining idiot or the oblivious dumbass?

post it in the tags!!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

23 years!! So Eddie hasn’t been to confession since he was around 10?!

Well if that isn’t interesting!!! That feels so pointed because that is a very young age to stop going to confession - unless you’ve started to realise you’re different - that the church as been teaching you the things you’re feeling and realising about yourself are not ok according to their teachings and beliefs and the best and easiest way to avoid religious wrath, not look at yourself too closely and bury your feelings is to just stop going to confession (assuming he was still going to church with his parents as I can’t imagine they’d not have him go to church every Sunday at 10!)

[atissi]

okay very preliminary thoughts on mitski's new album BUT i think there's something with how "laurel hell" felt like a goodbye to the music industry (can't find the source but i remember reading that it was intended to be her last album under her contract) like i'm sorry anthony fantano but if you interpret the back half of "laurel hell" as being generic breakup songs you're missing like 80% of the context. to me TO ME it feels so clearly about her negotiating her relationship with fame, how she can't love her fans the way they love her, and how she feels like she sold her soul to her job, so the only thing to do is step away. but THEN "the land is inhospitable and so are we" was created after mitski decided to renegotiate her contract, specifically because she loved making music enough to deal with the negative aspects of the work. and then all the songs are about the ghost of love she can leave behind, despite the present pain or emptiness, and like. do you see it. do you see it.

[fxrmeldehyde]

made a playlist about being aromantic after a deep talk with oomf ☝️ it's a little short rn but I'll add more songs as I find them