#i love it more than i thought it would honestly

[tomsparkyr]

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘!

following episode one of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

wc: 6.4K

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You sat yourself down on the chair placed in the middle of the room, a soft blue and purple light flooding the area. You smiled at the camera in front of you, feeling a little bit nervous at the entire concept of the show; but nonetheless, you still agreed to contribute to it.

It was difficult not to tell your friends about the whole thing, sworn (and to a contract) that you weren’t allowed to tell them you were entering a home with no outside contact for 7 days; only allowed to tell them you were taking a social media break.

Your family knew, obviously. But unable to tell your fellow youtuber friends was tough, because it was so painfully obvious where you were going.

Having to lie to George, Chris and everyone else was awkward. They had arranged plans for the next week and you had to reluctantly say no, because of course, you would much rather be stuck in a home with people you don’t know and then spending money that could potentially be yours.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

”Hello, my name is Y/N, I’m 24 and I’m a youtuber slash content creator!” You grinned expectantly at the camera.

Continuing, “Most of my content is just… me and my friends getting drunk and filming it because we think we’re funny!” You answered honestly, thinking back on the many times you got too drunk filming pub golf videos that George had to give you a piggy-back on the walk home.

The camera crew asked you how well you think you’re going to do in the challenge,

“I’d like to think I’ll do well, honestly!” You laughed.

”I spend money but I don’t spend so much at a time; like I could go weeks without buying something, then suddenly I’m a couple hundred quid down within a week?”

You continued, “I think I can go without my phone for a week; I’d like to think I’m not that addicted.” You laughed and cringed slightly.

”If anything I think I’ll miss my friends more than anything. I’m sure I’ll love the people there but it’s meeting new faces, I’d just love to walk in there now and see someone I know— My dog! That’s it, I’ll miss my dog this most!” You interrupted yourself, losing your train of thought.

The camera crew laughed at you and pushed the interest about your dog back home, “I just hope she’s being looked after. I’ve left her with George for the week so I think she’ll live?” You laughed nervously.

Upon this, the camera crew behind the device smirked and tilted their heads downwards so you couldn’t see their face. A couple of them turned around and subtly nudged each other.

It was at this point that the crew said that your interview was over and that it was time to enter the place you’ll be living in for the next week.

You nervously picked up your suitcase, clinging onto your comfort pillow in your right arm and hugging it tight to your chest. You couldn’t remember if you could take this into the house but taking no risks, you took it anyway.

You entered a white room with zero life in it; a metal detector gate stood in the centre of the room and a hole to put your luggage in.

”Oh, God.” You muttered under your breath as you realised there was no turning back now.

You paused for a second and scanned the area before realising it was just you in here, “Oh, I’m by myself… that’s embarrassing.” You laughed at yourself, knowing your friends at home were going to be making fun of you when this aired.

Walking through the metal detector, you lugged your suitcase behind you and only just recognised that you might have overpacked for a place that would not utilise your items in absolutely any way.

After putting your suitcase on the conveyor, you walked through to the main area in which you could hear some voices, none of which you could distinguish.

Walking through the empty hallway, you called out “Hello?”

Upon saying this, two heads poked out and their eyes widened at the sight of you.

The girl ran over to you and embraced you into a hug and introduced herself, “Hey, I’m Mya!” She smiled at you as you responded; she was happy there was another girl in the house with her already.

Meanwhile, the man who had seen you first turned his attention to the other male in the house as you and Mya embraced; “Yo, George, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

George furrowed his brows, a bit taken aback “My what?” He laughed a bit as his feet took him towards the hallway to peek at the new arrival; who was supposedly his girlfriend?

Pulling back from Mya’s hug, you made direct eye-contact with George, your best friend, standing a couple feet away from you. “What the fuck?” You shouted and broke out into a sprint towards him, him already on route to you.

”No way!” He shouted back and caught your figure into a tight hug, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist and lifted you off the ground slightly as he buried his face into your neck amidst the hug.

You slung your arms around his broad shoulders and fell into the all too familiar embrace, catching his scent and subtly running your hands through the hair on the back of his head.

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in here?” He chuckled, his voice muffled as his head was tucked into your neck; he had settled you down onto the floor now but didn’t falter his grip by any means.

You laughed back at him, pulling your head away so you could maintain eye-contact with him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You retorted jokingly.

PK looked confused, “So they are boyfriend and girlfriend then?” Mya laughed at him, knowing the extent that you and George got shipped on Tiktok, the occasional edit finding itself on everyone’s for you page.

You and George turned back to look at PK,“No, no! George is my best friend!” You smiled at him, still in disbelief that George was actually here; “Half my videos are just with her.” George finished for you.

PK tilted his head, pointing between you two in which at the time you realised George’s hands were still resting on your waist while yours were cradling the back of his neck.

Confused (still), PK shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, completely convinced that he was looking at a couple in front of him.

As more people entered one by one, you and George dispersed from the group, his arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you against him the entire time.

You shook your head and looked up at him with a smile, “What are you even doing here?”

George smiled down at you as you settled themselves down on the sofa in the living room.

“Dunno, the Sidemen like me so I thought, why not?” He laughed at himself, you scooted closer to him as he picked up a cushion to set it down on yours and his lap.

He nudged you, “What about you, you little minx, how did you keep that a secret from me?”

You smirked and fiddled with the loose threads on the cushion.

”I didn’t tell anyone!” You admitted, “Not you, not Chris, not Arthur; I told no one! Not even— Wait…” You trailed off, eyes widening.

”George, who’s looking after my dog?” You said, fear flooding your features.

George laughed and threw his head back, a hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you persisted on the whereabouts of your dog.

”She’s living with Chris and Arthur for the week.” He reassured you, an obvious relief washing over you as your shoulders fell from a hunched position.

In your own little world, you and George nattered away to each other, updating him on everything he’s missed and completely ignorant to the new members joining the house; because you were all too consumed with each other.

George just knew at that moment that when this aired, Chris was going to rip into the way he was staring at his ‘best friend’.

A shouting voice tore you out of your George-infused daze as it was directed at you two, “Wait, you’re that couple that’s always edited on my for you page?”

The blonde girl next to her snapped her head around to the pair of you sitting with George’s arm still around you, her eyes widening, “Holy shit! I love you two!”

George’s cheeks suddenly were painted a pink colour and you sported a flushed face. An awkward laugh bubbled from your chest, “What?”

Upon seeing your awkward faces and red creeping up your necks, the blonde girl covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

You stood up and left George’s touch, walking over to the girl with a comforting smile on your face.

“Don’t worry! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You said as you raised your arms out for a hug.

She met you halfway as she responded,“Ugh, you’re gorgeous. I’m Milli.” She smiled sweetly at you, peering over her shoulder to see the other girl still gawking at you.

The louder one strutted over and immediately pulled you into a hug, “I’m Farah, who is sorry about—“ “Oh, God. Don’t even worry about it!” You reassured the girl, finding it quite amusing that you and George had crept your ways onto other people’s for you page.

time skip!

The bedroom situation was the next challenge.

After introducing yourself to everyone (they acted as if they didn’t know who you were, but they had all seen the George x Y/N edits) you all made your way over to the bedrooms, some even breaking out into a sprint.

A couple people jumped onto their beds, claiming it as their own. There were two double beds and the rest were singles, but because there were only 10 people at the time, sharing a double bed wouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

George leaped onto one bed and said sarcastically, “Oh my God, guys, stop fighting over my bed!” You laughed at him and slowly sat down on the one remaining bed next to his.

You crawled onto your bed after readjusting the pillows against the headboard so you could sit up comfortably, leaning back and allowing your eyes to close momentarily.

It wasn’t until you felt a nudge on your shin that you opened your eyes and saw a George Clarke resting on his stomach, a pillow squished between his chest and the bed, his beaming smile staring at you.

You tilted your head at him and smiled softly, lightly kicking your foot back at him as his hand lingered on your leg; the rest of the room became a blur as he kept looking at you.

Sending a quick wink your way, he hoisted himself up off the bed and gestured a hand out to you. You took it as he helped you onto your feet, so the group could walk back into the living room per producers request.

The group all positioned themselves on the couch, George settling down on the end as you squeezed between him and Mandi. With little spare room on the couch, George carefully lifted your leg so it was led over his thigh and his hand rested comfortably on your knee. Opposite you, Whitney grinned at the action.

George was fiddling with his bottle as the group conversed, “So, Y/N what do you do?” Cinna asked you.

Hearing your name, you perked up. “I mainly do YouTube videos with this weirdo here.” You pointed a thumb George’s way.

The group laughed at you and took careful notice at your closeness with George. “And George, what do you do?” She continued.

George tilted his head, “I started on TikTok.” He trailed off as Whitney butted in. “Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah.” George responded. Whitney persisted, “Why not in real life?” You furrowed your brows at this. George, oblivious to her, said “Should I stop?” as he pointed at himself jokingly.

“But you don’t talk in real life! I’m like “George…” Whitney said. She was then interrupted by the Sidemen walking in, smug smirks tugging on their face.

You and George smiled at the familiar faces, previously being in Sidemen videos in the past. You took notice that George’s mood had picked up more now he knew more than one person, becoming more comfortable in the odd place he was confined in.

JJ began for the group, “Welcome to the new series of Inside!” 

The group whooped and cheered at this. Everyone was excited at the prospect of winning a million pounds.

The Sidemen began listing off the rules and concept of Inside, everyone nodding along and the occasional verbal reaction. 

Harry pointed at you and the group, “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open!” You and Farah made eye-contact and started jumping up to run to the shop as a joke, the group laughing at the pair of you.

JJ said one last thing before everyone bid their goodbyes to the Sidemen, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

You all clapped and half heartedly cheered, more nervous than excited at this rate because the money you could win was in the hands of everyone else.

Farah quickly asked as they were leaving, “Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?”

“Shut up.”

time skip!

The group all discussed that you wanted to keep the prize money at least 800K, agreeing with a ‘hands in the middle’ before you all jogged down to the shop.

As you entered, half the group were already in there and complaining about the lack of choices they could purchase, Milli however wasn’t upset about the prices at this point.

You and George lurked at the back, shoulder to shoulder and laughed at Mandi as she stood up to the camera asking about the whereabouts of her vodka.

As a quarter of the group decided on food and drinks as the first purchase before you butted in with a suggestion, “Wait, surely we should get some entertainment first, just so we don’t all want to die on the first day?”

George, Dylan and Milli pointed at you, nodding and verbalising their agreement. Milli grabbed your upper arm and took you both to the camera to confirm your order.

“I’ll say table tennis bat and you’ll say table tennis ball, right?” You asked her, she smiled as you both poked your head up to the camera and held your microphone to your mouth.

“Can I confirm the table tennis bat,” “And the table tennis ball, please?” You and Milli spoke, giggling at each other after as you made eye-contact.

You distanced yourself from the group and they began talking louder and speaking over each other, finding yourself settled next to George who had barely spoken outside of you since being in here.

Looking at the list of items, you nudged George, “What the fuck is a ‘golden straw’?” You laughed and furrowed your brows.

You saw his eyes scan the list and chuckle at the item considering its price, “That’s actually a stupid price.” He thought out loud.

“I swear if anyone buys that shit…” You closed your eyes and shook your head, sneaking your arms around him so you could link arms.

The door suddenly opened to reveal the items you and Milli had bought. She turned around and called your name to come over to her. You walked over and tugged George close along behind you.

You saw Milli’s shoulder drop and she leaned down to pick the item up, “What?” You questioned. She turned around and lifted up the one tennis bat.

“No!” You gasped and tightened your grip on George’s arm. “Is it one?” He asked, dreading the worst after your reaction.

“It’s one!” Milli confirmed your suspicions. You groaned, cursing out the Sidemen as everyone around out kept bickering. You watched as Dylan walked back to the camera.

“I’m confirming that you did scam us with that one, I’m not going to lie. So we are ordering one more bat.” He purchased the other bat.

You turned around to face George, smiling up at him as his figure towered over you. “I’m gonna kick your ass at table tennis.” You promised to him and yourself. Laughing at you, he drifted his hands down to rest on your hips, “Best out of three; guaranteed I’m gonna win all three.” He replied smuggly, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to listen to everyone talk about eating arrangements, you yanked George’s arm and the pair of you ran back to the living room, table tennis bats in hands and laughing in joy. Even in a confined house with 10 other people, you found George attached to you as if it was only the pair of you; no one else mattered except for him.

George walked around the table, shoving you lightly before the game started in an attempt to throw you off. You cleared your throat, “This is a practice round, no cheating and no foul play!”

“You’re only saying it’s a practice round so you’re not embarrassed when I kick your ass.” George winked at you and threw the table tennis ball down onto the table.

You heard a playful gag next to you, “Ew, guys stop flirting!” Cinna stated sarcastically. You and George only laughed and began playing against each other.

George played against you for a couple rounds, the game going back and forth a handful of times. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, you beat George in a tight game. George only shrugged and walked backwards to sit on the couch, leaning his body back and relaxing for the first time since walking in here.

You tilted your head and called Dylan up to play against you, still high on adrenaline. “Dylan, come play the reigning champion!”

Hearing this, George’s head popped up with furrowed brows. “What? I thought you said it was a practice round?” He asked in mock offence.

You shrugged, “Yeah it was… until I beat you.” George suppressed a laugh into a groan and rolled his head back as you shot him a sickeningly sweet smile; knowing he had been caught out by you once again (not that he did anything to stop it).

interview room!

“I mean, I think I’ve started off decently. Barely spent money so far, but I haven’t been down there since I got the table tennis stuff.”

“I mean, I don’t really care about winning now that I’ve beaten George in table tennis! I’ve known him for years, played against him thousands of times and now suddenly hours into my new home for the week and straight off the bat I’ve already taken the win”

“My main concern right now is that I’m so hungry. And I know the meals are gonna be shit, but honestly, I could take anything right now!”

After gossiping about the whole pot noodle fiasco, an alert came up on the screen: ‘Lunch is now ready to collect from the shop’.

“Oh, thank God.” You groaned, feeling the effects of a constant rumbling stomach taking a toll on you. George, who was sitting opposite you looked puzzled and partially offended, “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

Leading the pack down to the shop, you skipped down to the final step and came face to face with an open trap door and met some… unpleasant food. Picking up two of the pots, you inspected the food.

George creeped in behind you and peered over your shoulder. Upon seeing his presence, you passed him his meal and stiffled a laugh at his scrunched up nose and face of disgust.

Grabbing a spoon, you opened the pot and attempted not to be put off it immediately. You watched Mandi verbally express her utter hatred towards the food; placing a hand on her shoulder, you urged her to try a bit before she opted out. “Hey, Mandi. Just try a little before--”

“Can I confirm an upgrade, please?” You sighed as she ignored you. Feeling awkward now, George wrapped his arm around its usual spot on your shoulder and tugged you against him, whispering in your ear not to worry about it; unbeknownst that the cameras can see and hear everything.

The pair of you walked away from the chaos of buying upgrades, chatting to each other and sitting back down onto the couch.

Cinna watched you and walked up to you, “Come with me to get the rest?” She urged, knowing many people had left scraps of food down in the shop and was aware of your hunger earlier on.

You smiled at her and left George’s touch, him frowning slightly. You followed side by side with Cinna, strutting into the shop and splitting the weight of the spare food between the two of you.

As you began walking away, you spotted something shiny left in the shop.

“No fucking way.” You murmered, now having personal issues with this goddamned straw. Cinna turned around at your words, eyes widening and walking over to pick up the straw.

“Is there a golden straw in there? Did they leave it?” She questioned no one in particular.

You threw the straw a rude face, “That shit cost fucking £2,500?” You shook your head, already having some suspects on who bought it.

Snatching the straw off her, you stormed ahead to the living room to ask some very needed questions; Cinna laughing at you as she trailed behind, finding your beef with the straw hilarious.

“Who bought this?” You spoke loudly as you entered the room, watching George on the beanbag throw his head back in mock frustration, murmuring some swear words in the wake.

Cinna walked in and made a bee-line for Mandi, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Mandi’s lack of an answer told you the whole story.

Passing the straw to Mandi, you felt a hand brush yourself and looked down to George playing with your fingers as he remained seated, his eyes watching the conversations rather than you. You suppressed a smile at this and tried to fight back a blush from creeping onto your face.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the voice of Tobi rang around the house, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

time skip!

Finally, it was you and George remaining; neither of you had been selected to compete in Insider Dating (a part of you felt like they set you two up on purpose, but by no means were you complaining).

“And lastly… George? Y/N?” Simon smirked, holding his card close to his chest.

The group whooped and cheered as the pair of you stood up, even JJ was jeering you on. Tobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and JJ let out his gawking laugh in response. You groaned, fully aware it was something revolving between you and George.

George sat down opposite you, a worried grin painted on his face as you sucked in a deep breath, picking up the menu in front of you.

“For not the first restaurant date for these two,” Simon started, smirking as he watched both of your faces grow a shade darker and keeping your heads down low. Some of the other contestants let out a wolf-whistle and slammed the table as they laughed at Simon’s joke. “On the menu for you two is Shocking Questions.”

As you inspected the menu more, confused on what was happening, George had already figured it out. He looked at the Sidemen for confirmation and said, “Oh.” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see your blush. “What’s that?”

“We’ll be getting shocked.” He said with a lack of enthusiasm. You closed your eyes and sighed, nervous about both the questions and being shocked; but remaining determined that you wouldn’t press the red buzzer.

Simon started, “Okay, George. You’ll be answering the questions first, so, Y/N, please ask the first question.”

You took a deep breath, inspecting the question before looking up at George and asking him, “What is your worst online dating experience?”

Unsure when to start, George looked around him and then at the camera, “Okay, um…”

He placed his hands on the table in front of him, “I matched with somebody on--” He cut himself off as an electric jolt sent his body forwards as he groaned in pain. You covered your mouth in shock and offered a hand out on the table for him to grip onto for comfort.

Taking your hand very quickly he continued, “That’s a lot of power. Um. I matched with somebody on Hinge, and I was speaking to them for about two days. Voice notes back and forth, it was fun. And then--”

Another jolt came through and he squeezed your hand hard, cursing out in the meantime, “Oh, God! I’m sorry, Y/N!” You shook your head and reassured him, “No, no! Keep going, you’re doing great!” The contestants laughed at you as you attempted to comfort George as more jolts came through.

“Fucking hell. Um, then I tried to meet up with them, but it turns out they weren’t real. I was there for an hour and a half.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his story, focusing on him and keeping eye-contact with him to try and urge him through this. Also thinking at the same time, if his questions were bad, think of the masacre for you.

“I came back home, reverse Google Image searched them--” George’s body locking up in pain from the electric, “And they weren’t real. Fucking hell, that’s a lot!” He groaned, still squeezing your hand across the table.

Simon urged you to ask the next question, “Could we please have the second question?”

Your eyes widened at the question and George felt more jolts come through, “Oh, my God, please, can we make it a quick one?” He begged, playing with your fingers and cracking your knuckles as a way to distract himself from the pain. “Oh, my God. That was actually quite bad.”

You began starting the next question, interrupted by George burying his head into his bicep and groaning out, “Fuck!”

“If you had to snog, marry and avoid three Insiders, who and why?” You stared into his eyes as a faint pink sprinkled his cheeks; you couldn’t decipher whether that was out of pain or embarrassment of the question.

George pulled a shocked yet puzzled face, “I don’t fucking know!” 

PK from the side shouted out, “Yes, you fucking do!” while pointing your way; you were unable to see this as your eyes were trained on George in front of you.

“Both genders?” George joked to try and diffuse the situation, making the Sidemen laugh as jolts of electricity came through more frequently and painfully.

George shook his head and gestured towards you, “Snog you, avoid Farah,” He turned around to face her and sent an apologetic look her way, “Sorry, you’re quite loud!” The rest of the group laughed as he turned back to you, “And marry Y/N!”

The group, including the Sidemen all screamed and pointed accusing fingers at George, while you sat with a mouth open and a surely bright red face by now. “You said Y/N twice!” Simon raised his brows and shouted at the man. “You can’t pick the same person twice!” JJ laughed.

George’s eyes widened as he realised what he did, “Shit! I meant marry Y/N, snog Y/N-- Shit!” He cursed as another jolt came through and stumbled over his words, “Fuck! No! Snog Mya!”

Everyone, including you laughed at him as Simon now approved the answer, and George’s grip on your hand faltered and he hid his face on the table, embarrassed beyond belief.

Some of the girls awed at his answer as the chaos had only just settled down, the focus turning on to you (as if it wasn’t already).

You rolled your head back in an attempt to release some nerves but failed to do so. You swallowed hard and looked in front of you to see George, now sat upright, staring at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher.

Looking down at the table, you saw George’s extended hand open for you, “Tit for tat?” He tilted his head, smiling at you as you accepted it, your palm brushing his. He took a deep breath as his heart jumped a little bit at the intimate moment shared in front of everyone and dozens of cameras.

Simon perked up again, “George, could you please ask the first question?” 

George looked down at the question sheet, eyes widening at the second question in particular, but chose to tackle that situation when he got there.

“Y/N,” You were waiting for the first shock but it hasn't come yet, “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” George asked.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh, God. Alright, so basically--” You screamed as the first shock came through and your body jolted forward in a much similar fashion as George’s previously had. You gripped his hand hard, feeling bad that you could potentially be hurting him in the process.

“You’ve got it, you’ve got it.” George encouraged you, a soft smile etched across his face.

“Shit! Okay--” Another shock going up your spine, painful but quick, “He said I was in-- Fuck!” More and more shocks came through. You understood you would have to rush this answer because there was no way you could get through it at this rate.

“He said I was in love with someone else apparently, so he-- Shitting Hell!” You gripped George’s hand. “So he cheated on me and I snitched on him to his mother!” You blurted out, hearing the loud laughter from the contestants and the Sidemen around you, even George was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

JJ’s laugh stood out from everyone elses, “Damn Y/N! We’ll take that. George, next question?”

George’s smile fell slightly, “Right, Y/N…” Your body jolted forward in pain, “Shit! George, I love you but please hurry up!” The group laughed at your reaction.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N explain the story of your first kiss.” His voice faltered towards the end, heart thumping in his chest as your face paled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly, “No! No! I can’t say that!” Tobi butted in, “Answer or lose 10K!”

A horrendous jolt of electricity went through your body and your hand held George’s while the other bunched up the cloth of the table as you squeezed it.

“Tell us, Y/N!” You heard other contestants shout at you. Milli shouted, “Come on, Y/N! You can do it!”

You tossed your head back, “Fuck! Okay! So basically, we were younger and neither of us-- Shit!” 

“Neither of us had had our first kiss yet, so we--” You groaned, head now falling forwards as your hair covered your face slightly. George leaned over and brushed it away, tucking it behind your ears. 

“Push the button, Y/N!” JJ urged. “Fuck off!” You screamed back, some of the group crying with laughter and standing up in doing so.

“We played odds on that we had to kiss right then and there! That’s it! Please turn this fucking thing off!” You begged, feeling sweat drip from your forehead now.

However, Simon decided to alter the rules of the game.

“Y/N, we’re not accepting that until you tell us who it was with.”

Your eyes bulged out of their head as the screaming around you ensured, George falling unusually quiet compared to everyone else as his gaze remained locked on you.

“What the fuck? That’s not-- Oh, God!” You groaned, “That’s not fair!”

JJ and Tobi just laughed, “Just tell us!”

You shook your head rapidly, “No fucking way!”

“Say it!” They screamed.

“No!” You responded with the same energy.

“You’re not leaving until you tell--”

“George!”

Everyone around you jumped up in shock and amusement, smacking the table laughing and pointing fingers at you and George.

George’s mouth also dropped open in shock as he didn’t think you would actually admit to it, blush coating his neck and cheeks as everyone was looking at you two and that you had exposed your deepest secret.

Your body relaxed as the shocks stopped but you didn’t necessarily win; sure, not losing 10K is great, but now on day one of your new home, everyone would talk about you and George, definitely not helping your case that you’re not dating.

Simon removed his hand from covering his mouth in shock, “Well… I guess you passed.” He didn’t know what to say, no one did really; everyone was just screaming incoherent words in disbelief of this entire situation.

You had never wanted to hear the words of Tobi more in your entire life, “Insiders, you have completed your first challenge of the series.”

time skip!

After a long first day, you had settled yourself down onto the couch in the living room. Led down, you sported George’s hoodie as he found himself back at the table tennis court; this time battling against PK. Blocking everyone out, you drift off for your much needed nap.

As George played against PK, the new contestant DDG had some questions.

“I didn’t know the Sidemen let couples on here.” He thought out loud, catching everyone in the room's attention. They looked at him with tilted heads. “Who’s the couple?” Cinna asked.

DDG pointed a thumb in your direction as you laid unconscious on the couch, “That’s your girl, right?” He nodded towards George.

George chuckled and looked down, “Yeah, George. How’s your girl?” PK teased.

Shaking his head, George served the tennis ball nonchalantly, “She’s just my friend.” He didn’t know who he was trying to prove, himself or those around him.

Dylan butted in, “Oh yeah, I just kiss my best friends every now and then.”

Without looking at them, George continued, “Ah! I was her first kiss, that doesn’t mean we just kiss every now and then.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” PK laughed. In mock retaliation, George served a harsh ball his way, the mini group laughing at him.

DDG looked between you on the couch and George standing to his right, “Hold up… you’re not dating her?” George shook his head.

He raised his brows, “For real, man?”

George slowly nodded, “For real.” He sounded partially disappointed but masked it as he continued playing table tennis.

time skip!

You found yourself standing in the shop alone, inspecting the items as you were yet to purchase anything for yourself, excluding the singular tennis bat earlier. You heard someone creeping up behind you.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” George whispered from beind you, crouching down slightly so he could reach your height. You leaned back into him and his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Why the fuck do I want that jiggly ball so bad?” You thought out loud. George responded with a loud gawking laugh, stumbling back a bit and bringing you with him.

You turned around and slapped his chest, “No, George! It’s not funny! Why does every part of me need that jiggly ball?”

He looked down at you with a suggestive eyebrow raise, your face fell as you understood what he was insinuating. “Oh, shut up!”

Laughing, you held his hand and walked out of the shop together. You settled on the couch again after your nap, reintroducing yourself Patrice as the last time you saw him was when you were half-asleep.

A couple of minutes later, you heard your name being whispered at the door. Standing up, you followed the noise and was met with George suppressing a wild grin and something stuffed up his shirt. “Oh, God. What did you do?” You smiled.

George leaned down and dragged the pair of you into the corner of the room, “I might have suggested that Farah get something for you.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement.

“No, you didn’t…” You mumbled. 

It was then that George whipped out the bright purple and blue jiggly ball from underneath his shirt, handing it to you and bouncing it between his hands in the process, giggling in excitement. “Oh, my God!” You squealed.

You took the ball from him and played with it for a moment before looking up to see George already staring at you. You shook your head, smiling at him, “Thank you!” 

You pulled him into a crushing hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground, swaying the pair of you back and forth slightly. He placed you back down as you seperated from the hug, hands remaining on your waist as you stared at each other, not breaking eye-contact. 

Neither of you said anything to each other, but your eyes said so much more. The hand that wasn’t holding the ball reached up to his face and urged him to tilt his head to the side, before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away from your peck, you smiled at him and backed away slightly. You tossed the ball so it hit his forehead lightly and bounced back into your hands, “I’ll see you later.” You bit your lip to keep your smile from growing.

Walking away, you didn’t notice that George watched you as you went; a hand pressed up against his cheek where you had kissed him, only hoping it was closer to his lips.

As bedtime rolled around, you situated yourself in your bed next to George’s. You rested on the side facing him, finding him doing the same and could recognise his beaming smile even in the darkness.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as the tiredness took a toll on you. You let your hand flop off the side of your bed, not thinking too much of it.

Then, you felt a soft brush against your hand and looked down at it, seeing George’s hand lacing his fingers with yours as his hand was stretched off his own bed. Leaning off the side of his bed, George pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, signaling a sweet ‘goodnight’ to you before the pair of you dozed off.

Maybe this weird, confined lifestyle where everything was overpriced and challenges determined your mood for that day wasn’t too bad. But maybe, it was rather the person holding your hand that could help you tolerate this.

taglist (ps love u all):

@sidemenslver @wherethezoes-at @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @iammyownselfdestruction @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @hollie911

[muqingslover]

[ Pushing my virgin Caleb agenda again yippieeeee. God he's such a loser I love him. Thinking about making a masterlist but im a full-time procrastinator lmfao ]

Virgin!Caleb who has zero sexual experience but is the textbook definition of sexual frustration. This man is about to snap in more ways than one.

Virgin!Caleb who during his teen years had to deal with his raging hormones and finally caved and searched for porn one night. He couldn't care less about the content itself only that the person MUST look like you, bonus point if their voice sounded similar to yours.

Virgin!Caleb who feels incredibly guilty each time he cums using your clothes but he can't stop himself from burying his nose into the soft fabric of your coat as his other hand quickly moves up and down his dripping cock— By the gods, you just smell so fucking heavenly.

Virgin!Caleb who wants to try everything at least once (as long as it doesn't hurt you) because he simply can't get enough of you and your body. Of all the LIs I think he's the most open to pegging but that's a topic for another day muehehehe

Virgin!Caleb who watches you sleep like a creep and notices your shirt riding up while you laid comfortably on your stomach. His eyes trail down to your exposed skin, body growing uncomfortably hot and causing him to shift the way he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He wonders...Would you squirm if he brushed his fingertips down your back? Would you tell him to stop? Or would you let him move lower? Would you let him slip his hands under the waistband of your shorts to feel your soft thighs and press against the thin fabric of your underwear, that would surely be wet by now— ....Yep, he definitely needs an extra cold shower tonight.

Virgin!Caleb who gets nosebleeds every freaking time you do or say something his dirty, loser mind considers as too much to handle. I will die on this hill if I have to listen to mE HE GETS NOSEBLEEDS AND IT'S SO HOT BELIEVE ME ! !

Virgin!Caleb who tries to keep his composure after he accidentally caught you grinding into a pillow and whining so good. He knows he should leave, that this is beyond immoral, but his body won't listen and honestly it's not like he really tried all that much.

Virgin!Caleb who is now leaning against the wall next to your door as he ignored his throbbing boner straining against his tight pants, trying to imagine that your pretty moans were because of him instead. How he wished he could just walk in there and taste you. To mark you as his so no one else would even dare to look at you. To keep you locked in his room, safe and healthy, while he spent his day buried into your soft little hole until either of you were unable to form a coherent thought.

Virgin!Caleb who had to cover his mouth to prevent your name from spilling out when his climax hit him and he made a mess in his own pants without even touching himself, sliding down the wall after his shaky knees gave out. Oh yeah, he's in biiiig trouble.

[rainydayathogwarts]

heyy i’m the same anon who just sent the one abt james. i think i accidentally wrote spring instead of summer? i honestly don’t remember.. very sorry😭🙏

but also ngl spring could be cute with this prompt if it was like fake dating or smthn ("come on, you're my only option"). ok sorry for rambling! i love your work

only woman - James Potter

ʀᴀɪɴʏᴅᴀʏᴀᴛʜᴏɢᴡᴀʀᴛꜱ' 3ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! summary: the first time you and james have a friendly conversation after your breakup leads to something more... (smut) wc: 1.6k+

James potter was not happy. No, not now, and not since an hour ago, when you’d cornered him with your beautiful smile — the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place. Sitting on the couch in the common room with his cock hard as a rock, James was forced to listen to the other marauders’ jokes while you insisted on hearing whatever gossip Lily had to tell you. James didn’t know how to pull you away from your shared group of friends, because since the two of you had broken up, you’d barely even been in the same room together.

It was only today that you decided you were ready for that next step in rekindling your friendship, calling out James’s name in the hallway as you caught up to him, hooking your arm through his and eagerly asking if he’d read the newest book in your shared favourite comic book series. James had engaged in your conversation with a wide smile, communicating how happy he was for things between you to finally be normal again.

But now, as he sat with a pillow over his lap, he was sure things would never go back to normal with you. He’d taken too many not-so-subtle glances down the front of your shirt, like he always did when he was your boyfriend. The only difference was that now, he couldn’t tug you closer to him by the hips, pressing desperate kisses against your lips until you were stripping your shirt off.

Your breakup was stupid, James now decided.

The both of you should have talked things out like adults instead of arguing and deciding on the spot that your relationship wouldn’t endure the inevitable long distance that would come due to your varying interests for further education. James remembers seeing your puffy face the day after the breakup, Lily leading you away from James and the rest of the marauders so you could have a somewhat peaceful breakfast. By not having an amicable breakup, you created tensions in the friend group. Awkwardness that had only begun healing two months after you’d separated. It took more than those two months for you to speak to each other, and nearly six full months after your breakup — today — you’d had your first friendly conversation.

And James was already regretting everything. He shouldn’t have broken up with you, he shouldn’t have spoken to you today, he shouldn’t have let his thoughts wander, because now he was stuck in this situation. This situation, with you glancing up at him from across the room with a friendly smile, though you had a mischievous glint in your eye he would recognise anywhere.

He had enough.

Abruptly standing, James grabbed his bag, which conveniently hung just in front of his hips, covering his unfortunate situation. “I think I’m going to go give Professor McGonagall the essay we started in class. I want to get her feedback on it.” James knew he didn’t have to direct any of his words to you for you to get the hint, his eyes having previously burned into you. And he stood correct, watching as you eagerly jumped up, grabbing your roll of parchment off the table. “I’ll come too! I just finished mine!” None of your friends suspected anything as you ran after James out of the common room, exchanging their gratefulness for your awakening friendship.

You hooked your arm through James’s as he led you out of the common room, though it wasn’t long before he was pulling you into a hidden room, its door wedged behind a statue. You called out your ex-boyfriend’s name and he spun to face you, a pleading look on his face. James dropped his book bag at his feet, and your eyes were instantly attracted to the bulge in his trousers. You suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to make its way onto your face, instead raising your eyebrows at James, putting both hands on your hips. “This is what you dragged me out here for?” You sassed, and James immediately retorted with “You followed me.”

Huffing, you spun on the balls of your feet and reached for the door, but a hand on your wrist stopped you from leaving. You held your breath suddenly, feeling the warmth of James’s body radiate onto you. “James.” You uttered in a warning tone, but the man only shoved himself in the tight space between you and the door, forcing you to look at him. “Please. I don’t know what overtook me but I’m just- please.” Stepping away from James, you looked him up and down. He came closer to you, finally placing his hands on your hips, lowering his volume as he pleaded “You’re my only option.”

Offended, you slapped one of James’s hands off your body, scoffing “Why? ‘Cause no one else will take you?” But the boy only shook his head, saying “Because you're the only one I want.” Your breath hitched in your throat and your face immediately softened for James, putting a hand on his face. You almost forgot how loving and sweet James naturally was.

Okay, enough playing hard to get, you decided, finally pushing yourself up against James to press your lips against his in a passionate kiss. A grumble sounded in James chest as he brought a hand up to cup your face, the other one securely wrapping around your waist. You sighed into the kiss and James pushed his tongue past your lips and into your mouth with a desperation that had an intensity thickening in the room. You tripped backwards over James’ discarded bag, but his hold on you immediately tightened, and he dragged you over to the window nook, where you fell onto your back when the back of your legs hit its edge.

Gripping James’s belt, you messily undid it, gasping when his hands trailed under your skirt to tug your panties down. The second you released James from his boxers, sitting under his leaking cock, he broke the kiss to grab hold of himself, biting his bottom lip as he blindly tried to find your entrance. You hooked your leg over James’s hip, and almost immediately, you felt his tip probe your wet entrance, desperately pushing into you. You gasped, moaning when James slammed his lips back onto yours and you snaked a hand into his hair, tugging softly at his loose curls.

James wasn’t going to last long. You could tell by the way his thrusts were unusually short and desperate, fast instead of hard. James whined into the kiss, his hips barely pulling out of you every time before thrusting in again, balls-deep. You gasped as his tip grazed that spongy spot that never failed to make you lose yourself in pleasure, wrapping your arms over James’ shoulders to pull him closer to you. James averted his kisses to your neck, sucking eagerly on your skin and biting whenever particularly strong moans overtook him. “I love you.” He suddenly panted, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, haven’t had sex since you.” You moaned at James’s unexpected words, throwing your head back onto the thin cushions behind you. “Fuck James!”

“Tell me you’re mine.” He begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he lifted his head up to hover above yours, his lips barely grazing yours. "’M yours Jamie! No one can fuck me — oh my god — like you.” James moaned, letting his forehead drop against yours as he shut his eyes. “Fuck, you like when I fuck you like this?” He asked, trying to snap his hips into yours with more power. You hummed out an answer, barely able to form a coherent sentence when James brought his hand down to toy with your clit. “Just you.” You mumbled, bringing your hand up to push James’s face closer to yours, finally connecting your lips in a kiss again. You bit down on James’s bottom lip, unaware that immediately, the sting of your bite would have his hips stuttering to release his load of cum into you. You gasped loudly as James moaned your name, willing himself to give you a few more thrusts that finally pushed you over the edge.

James’s breath hitched in his throat when your nails harshly dug into his skin and your thighs tried clamping shut around his torso. He stared at you lovingly as you arched your back, eyes bracing shut and your mouth falling open to let out a string of high-pitched moans. James brushed a few hairs away from your eyes, smiling at you when you finally caught your breath and opened your eyes.

“Fuck, I better be the only woman you fuck for the rest of your life, Potter.” You panted, wincing slightly when he chuckled. James pulled out of you, a tint of blush on his cheeks. “So, uh… You’ll be mine again?” He asked sheepishly. You sat up, putting a hand on James’s bicep. “I’ll be yours again if we can talk about what broke us up in the first place.”

When you re-entered the common room, Lily, Remus and Sirius weren’t surprised to find you were both friends again, but they were more than shocked to find the hickeys on your neck, and to discover that James had decided he would follow you anywhere in the world if it meant you were happy. At least they also found out that you’d knocked some sense into him and said his career was just as important as yours.

Who knew, maybe you two were perfect for each other: one blinded by love and the other to provide them vision.

[beloveds-embrace]

(a low-effort, self-indulgent post about 141 x sunshine reader with a love for flowers <3)

Moving to a military town had been a gamble. You weren’t military, had no family in the service, and you had no real reason to pick this particular place other than the fact that it was safe, stable, and quiet. The houses were affordable, the people were friendly enough, and you figured you could make a home here. Besides, you were far enough from the base to avoid their early morning drills but close enough to still feel secure.

And it was nice. Really, it was.

The town had its charm. It was small, orderly, and filled with people who were either part of the military or had long grown used to living in the shadow of it.

You just hadn’t expected it to be so… plain.

Everything was muted, designed for practicality rather than beauty. Row after row of beige houses, identical porches, yards that were neat but uninspired. It felt more like a barracks than a town, and you knew you wouldn’t last long surrounded by such monotony.

So, you changed it.

Within a week of moving in, your porch was transformed into a floral wonderland. Ivy and jasmine vines trailed along the railings, hanging baskets, overflowed with cascading petunias, swung from the beams, and the front steps were lined with carefully arranged potted blooms. Roses, marigolds, lavender- anything that could inject some color and life into the dull uniformity of the street.

And the town noticed.

It started small- passersby slowing down, lingering in front of your house, knocking to ask if they can take pictures. Then came the comments at the local market.

“Did you see the new house on [] Street? The one covered in flowers?”

“I thought I was dreaming- looked like something out of a storybook!”

“Oh, that’s her place. She’s always out there, tending to them. Such a sweet thing, always smiling.”

And then came the soldiers.

One morning, while you were watering your newest additions- lilies this time- a group of soldiers on their way to base slowed in front of your house. Their conversation died off, replaced by muttered confusion.

“Didn’t know we had a damn botanical garden in town.” One of them said, adjusting the strap of his gear bag.

“Are those-” Another squinted at your newest arrangement. “Does she change them?”

“She does,” a woman in the group confirmed; you had seen her before, you were sure. “Saw her planting new ones last week. Honestly, it’s nice.”

You smiled to yourself, pretending not to notice as they carried on their way.

But it didn’t stop there.

Another soldier stopped during his run, hands on his hips as he took in your porch. “Hell of a setup.” He commented, glancing at you.

“Thank you!” You beamed, wiping your dirt-streaked hands on your shorts. “Wouldn’t want the town looking too drab, now would we?”

His lips twitched. “Well, you’re succeeding.”

More and more soldiers began to take notice. Some just passed by with lingering glances, others stopped to admire the work. A few even asked for gardening advice- one particularly flustered private admitted he wanted to impress his girlfriend with a flower arrangement but had no idea where to start. You happily helped him pick out a selection, even wrote him a little care guide.

It wasn’t just the passing soldiers, either.

Older women in town would stop by just to chat about your arrangements, some even bringing over cuttings from their own gardens. Parents would pause during walks, their children pointing excitedly at the bright flowers and fairy lights you had strung along the porch. The local baker started leaving small bags of cookies at your door with notes like, Your flowers made my morning brighter!

And then there was Task Force 141, as they’d eventually introduce themselves to you.

The first time you caught Captain John Price standing on your sidewalk, arms crossed as he stared at your house, you thought you were in trouble. He had the kind of presence that demanded respect- commanding, observant, the weight of experience in every movement.

“You lost?” you teased anyways, adjusting a pot of marigolds, and hoping he wouldn’t consider you disrespectful.

Price huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flicking between the vines, the flowers, the fairy lights. “No. Just… wasn’t expecting this.” He gestured vaguely at the floral explosion around you.

“Well,” you grinned. “I refuse to live somewhere that looks like a training camp. You are the soldiers, not me.”

That had been the start of it.

Soap was the next to visit. He showed up a few days later, leaning against your railing as he inspected a cluster of bright yellow sunflowers. “Got any of those that’ll survive my terrible luck?”

You hummed, then handed him a small, sturdy succulent. “Try not to kill it.”

Then came Gaz, who always claimed he was “just passing through” but somehow always found himself near your house. He asked questions- what flowers worked best for balconies? His mum has a love for tending to flowers as well. Did you have any recommendations for someone who had never taken care of a plant in his life?

Regardledd, you happily enjoyed chatting with him, and he left with a small potted fern, promising to send updates.

And then there was Ghost.

Ghost never exactly visited, but you saw him. Once, when you were rearranging your display and muttering about getting new soil, you spotted him standing across the street, arms folded as he observed your work. He didn’t say anything- just gave a barely perceptible nod before disappearing back into the shadows.

But the next morning, a heavy bag of high-quality soil rested against your porch steps. No note. No explanation.

But from what the others had told you of him… you knew who it was from.

The townsfolk had opinions about that, too.

“That group’s been sniffing around your place an awful lot,” Mrs. Holloway, the town baker, noted one morning as she handed you a fresh loaf of bread. “You got yourself a security detail, dear?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think they just like the flowers.”

The butcher, a gruff man who had lived in the town longer than anyone, grunted in agreement. “Good. Those boys need something nice to look at.”

Even the local barista took notice. “Gaz came in the other day asking if we had any floral-themed drinks,” she giggled, leaning in close to you. “I swear, he’s trying to impress you.”

Ultimately, the town adored what you were doing. Where once there had been dull uniformity, now there was life. People started adding their own touches- small flower pots, window boxes, even a few hanging baskets inspired by yours. The air felt lighter, more welcoming.

And the 141?

They had seen the worst the world had to offer. They had fought in places where beauty was a distant memory, where survival took precedence over everything else.

Yet, somehow, you- sunshine incarnate, with dirt-streaked hands and a smile that could brighten even the darkest day- had managed to burrow into their hardened hearts.

[daeniradraconis]

Can I get a soft, cozy Quinn Hughes fic? Something that feels like a warm hug? 🥺

Thank you so much for your request! 💕 I’m really sorry for the wait—I truly hope you love it! ✨

Sewn with Love

You never really meant to steal all of Quinn’s hoodies. It just kind of… happened.

It started with one—the navy blue Michigan one he let you borrow after a late-night skate. Then came another, a Canucks hoodie you pulled on after one of his games because the rink was freezing. Then a gray one, an oversized black one, a few more you conveniently forgot to return.

At first, Quinn would roll his eyes and make half-hearted attempts to reclaim them.

“You know I do need to wear clothes, right?” he had teased one morning, plucking at the hem of the hoodie you were currently swimming in.

“You have plenty,” you’d countered, pulling the sleeves over your hands, completely unfazed.

And eventually, he stopped asking for them back.

The teasing never quite faded, though. Whenever he caught you in one of his hoodies, he’d just shake his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. He never said much, but you could tell—he liked it. Maybe even more than you did.

So when your birthday rolled around, you weren’t expecting anything huge. A dinner, maybe a thoughtful gift—Quinn wasn’t flashy, and honestly, just spending time with him was enough.

But what you woke up to was… unexpected.

Standing at the foot of your bed, hands stuffed in his pockets, was Quinn. Draped over his arms was something large, something soft, something familiar.

You blink, sitting up groggily. “What—”

“Happy birthday,” he says quickly, shifting his weight like he’s nervous. Then, in one smooth motion, he lifts the fabric and lets it unfold in his hands.

It’s a blanket.

But not just any blanket.

Your breath catches as you take in the patchwork of fabric, stitched together in uneven, but clearly careful lines. And then, realization crashes over you like a wave.

It’s made from his hoodies.

All of them.

“You did not,” you whisper, barely able to process it.

Quinn scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh… figured since you basically stole them, I might as well make it official.” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something deeper underneath. A kind of quiet sincerity he’s never been great at saying out loud.

You reach out, running your fingers over the fabric, memories stitched into every piece. The navy blue Michigan hoodie is now part of one corner, the Canucks logo peeking out from another. You can still spot the frayed cuffs of the gray one, the one you wore so much it practically molded to your shape.

And then, you notice it—stitched into the fabric, small but unmistakable, are words. A few along each patch, written in slightly uneven embroidery.

The first time you stole this one, you kissed me. The night you visited me at UMich, you borrowed this. You wore this one to my first game with the Canucks. You took this during Christmas break and never gave it back.

Your fingers tremble as you trace the stitching, your heart swelling with every word. You look up at him, eyes wide. “You remembered all of this?”

Quinn’s ears tinge pink, and he shifts awkwardly. “Yeah. Of course I did.” He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “They weren’t just hoodies to you. And… they weren’t just hoodies to me, either.”

You swallow, emotion thick in your throat. Each memory, each moment, immortalized in the fabric, just like the feelings between you.

“You cut them up?” Your voice is caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Well… yeah,” he says, watching your reaction carefully. “I mean, it’s not like I was getting them back in one piece anyway.”

You gape at him, then back at the blanket, your heart nearly bursting. “Quinn, this is…” You shake your head, overwhelmed. “This is insane.”

He shifts again, like he’s unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “I, uh… I did all the sewing myself,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Watched a bunch of YouTube videos. Poked my fingers a million times. It’s kinda messy, but I wanted to do it myself.”

You run a hand over one of the seams, slightly uneven but carefully done. “Wait—you actually sewed this?”

“Badly.”

Your chest tightens. “That’s—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

His lips twitch, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “So you like it?”

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you push back the covers and practically launch yourself into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as you bury your face in his shoulder, the scent of fresh laundry and something unmistakably him wrapping around you.

His arms tighten around you, warm and steady, his chin resting lightly against your hair.

“Thank you,” you murmur against his hoodie (which, ironically, is one of the few he has left). “I love it.”

You feel him exhale, the tension in his body melting. “Good,” he says softly. “’Cause you’re kinda stuck with it.”

You smile, pulling back just enough to look up at him. His eyes are warm, fond, and maybe just a little shy.

“Quinn?” you say, tilting your head.

“Yeah?”

You smirk, tugging lightly at the hoodie he’s currently wearing. “This one’s next.”

He groans, but the way he pulls you closer tells you he doesn’t actually mind.

[effiestrinkets]

THIS POST CONTAINS THG SOTR SPOILERS

finished sunrise on the reaping !! losing my mind. i cried so much.

here are some long rambling thoughts about my beloved effie trinket and also her friendship/relationship to haymitch abernathy. (yes, i’m back here after all these years lmao)

CW for themes present in the hunger games novels — murder, war, torture, cannibalism

this really is kinda wild to get new canon lore about haymitch and effie’s backstory so many years later. and that it contradicts all of our old fanon headcanons is funny, but honestly i love this canon backstory.

effie wasn’t a child watching haymitch’s games, but she’s actually a lil bit older than him! probably 5-10 years older, right? and imo she’s such a sweetheart even though she’s flawed and capitol-brainwashed. she came in and showed so much kindness to the D12 districts in the 50th hunger games, she met haymitch before he went into the arena and saw his true self. before alcoholism, before the capitol twisted him into something he wasn’t. the moment when he picked up the dropped makeup box for her was sweet.

i just love all of the new details we learn about effie. in the og trilogy katniss is so oblivious and dismissive of effie (no shade ily katniss) so i really enjoyed getting haymitch’s pov and finding out that he feels comforted by her and trusts her

• she had lavender hair when we first meet her!! this to me feels related to maysilee having a lavender dress at the reaping. something something both women are women haymitch grows to love. also love that we see effie wearing lavender in the hunger games movies a lot. lavender is associated with many meanings — calmness, grace, love, devotion, femininity, queerness, royalty, take your pick.

• loved to know effie loved her younger sister proserpina so fiercely and would go out of her way to help her :’)

• she dressed D12 nicely for their interviews and really showed them some small moments of kindness — it was especially lovely to see her and maysilee having moments of girlhood together in what were maysilee’s last hours of normality — and that she was kind to lou lou

• also i enjoyed the hints about the trinket family and effie’s great-aunt messalina and great-uncle silius disgracing the family during the war. knowing it’s ‘hard (enough) to be a trinket’ in the context of the capitol really informs us of so much of effie’s motivations and mannerisms. she’s obsessed with being perfect because their family has clearly been critiqued and shunned at times. her sister’s at the university, not the academy, which means they aren’t part of the capitol elite.

and thinking about what they might have done to be disgraced… silius trinket owned clothes with concealed weapon slots? bloodstains?? plutarch describing silius as ‘depraved’??? it probably wasn’t rebel sympathy because effie says “you win” when vitus says that’s what his grandfather was, so i’m leaning towards cannibalism, becausec also…

in TBOSAS we learn from snow that nero price (a titan of the railroad industry) was a cannibal during the war and served his maid’s leg to his family. his daughter persephone price was a mentor along with snow in the 10th hunger games. it’s implied persephone price, as a child, ate the human meat food that her father provided. much like the myth of persephone eating the pomegranates from the underworld.

can someone with more ancient history knowledge pls expand upon this — i feel like it’s something. now, in ancient rome, valeria messalina was the cousin of emperor nero. she was the third wife of the roman emperor claudius, but had an affair and married her lover silius and as a result, messalina and silius were both executed.

and proserpina (effie’s sister) is the roman name for persephone (confirmed daughter of a cannibal in tbosas)! i personally believe that’s gotta be a sign that effie’s relatives also engaged in cannibalism during the war.

• effie told haymitch he was being brave and said he deserved to look beautiful 🥹

• she’s a fake leather hater, lol, this fact goes so well with film!effie loving mahogany

• she was so nervous before haymitch went into the arena that her hands were shaking, and she reminded him not to step off the plate for 60 seconds so he wouldn’t die

• she promised to get his token to his love (leonore dove) if he died in the arena

• she believed in a positive attitude to get through anything :’)

• post-games, she stood strong in the face of peacekeeper bullets and she was already faking positivity and she was determined as ever, ‘you can’t keep effie down’

• while everyone else saw haymitch as a vicious animal and had him chained up, she trusted he would never hurt her and stood by him

• she watched over haymitch at the victory party in the capitol when he was in a cage

• when they needed a new escort and plutarch suggested effie, she came even though it wouldn’t be easy for her. being an escort is a way for her to climb the social ranks, but it’s also so challenging and puts effie in line of president snow’s gaze

• after his family and leonore were killed, she tried to motivate haymitch to keep living when he was suicidal and she helped him to bathe and get cleaned up and doted on him and she took the knife out of his hands when he started sleeping with it

• she tried to keep haymitch sober on the victory tour despite all the booze around them

i love her so much u guys. she’s such a misunderstood character with a lot of love in her heart <33333

she’s brainwashed by the capitol from birth and she’s certainly got all of their superficiality, like she worries about trivial things like ageing and cares too much about how she looks, but in her heart she’s good and kind. she’s clearly just trying to survive and not get herself or her family killed by the regime.

plus, i’m now thinking of all of this in context of the other novels.

how in the hunger games haymitch tries to hug effie when she’s drunk (but she pushes him away bc she’s worried about looking perfect for the reaping), and how they bicker (more so in the films) but trust and actually get along with each other, because now we know they’ve known each other 25 years at this point and in this time, and that means they were mentor and escort to 46 children who died before katniss and peeta came along.

effie tries to help katniss and peeta, as best as she can, and she grows to love them. she just wants them to be safe and hates to see them hurt. and she wishes she could make sponsor deals… and she and haymitch are “of one mind” and really do work well together as a team. and effie hides her smiles when the other 3 are being kinda traitorous. she’s got a rebellious streak herself.

then in catching fire she’s even more of a mother hen to peeta and katniss, she stops drinking in solidarity with haymitch while he’s trying to be sober, she gets them all the gold bangles to be a team, when effie stresses about being behind schedule and everything not being perfect because of delays haymitch sides with effie when katniss is rude to her, effie fusses over the kids all the time, she freaks out when peeta and katniss do the seneca crane / rue moments to the gamemakers and haymitch sides with her warning them not to be rebellious. effie is so deeply aware of how rebellion gets u killed and she keeps her mouth shut to stay alive. just like haymitch does. GAHHHH.

and, the detail in sotr that effie hates needles, but then in mockingjay (the book) she ends up a prisoner of the capitol and gets tortured and starved and probably gets drugged to all hell. and haymitch and plutarch have a hard time keeping her alive. bloody hell.

now, onto the hayffie of it all.

book!haymitch loves leonore more than anything, and he still sees visions of her throughout his life including into the epilogue, post-war. i always wondered what suzanne collins would do after the films leaned in harder into the hayffie romance angle (thank u woody and liz lmao) and i do like that she kept it aligned to the original books — it���s very mature and realistic. they do care deeply for each other, but it’s not some glossed over romance given the deep trauma haymitch has been through.

book!haymitch by the end of his games, after everyone he loves is murdered, believes that he cannot love anyone or they’ll die. he closes himself off completely. of course he’s not going to allow himself to become romantically linked to effie and have a relationship with her. he’s broken and an alcoholic and trying to win a rebellion. katniss, in catching fire, thinks he could’ve had any woman in the district, but he doesn’t. he can’t.

but in the epilogue, now that the war’s over? yeah he worries that his liver is gonna fail him, but he’s still only in his early 40s and they do have great medicine so who’s to say what happens between him and effie in the next 40-50 years of their lives? maybe they stay just friends, maybe they become romantic. i think that’s all open to interpretation. SOTR really doesn’t rule out romantic!hayffie to me. in fact i think it gives us some delicious angst potential (hello fanfic) wherein he loves effie but will always love and mourn leonore.

anyway, i am just so glad to know more about effie trinket and glad we got to see her again. she is so special to me. i need an effie book please and thank you. ❤️

[gatorbites-imagines]

Sinister Mark and Mohawk Mark would definitely be the ones to catcall the reader in the house the most and are the most likely to tag-team.

Second place goes to Omni Mark and Viltrum Mark (or Sheisty Mark, I imagine Omni Mark isn't picky about his threesome partner)

Honestly, I think sinister and mohawk tag team only to try and one up each other. They give the vibe of two territorial dogs who snarl and snap at each other, frothing at the mouth and barring teeth and all.  

Since they can't both be on readers dick at the same time, at least with their hole (which hole depends on what anatomy they got,,, or if it's the pregvincible au,,,), so I imagine they almost “fight” on the readers dick with their mouths. They are biting each other's tongues and all, until reader snaps at them and tells them to quit, before they accidentally bite his very human dick off. 

Probably ends up with one of them riding readers face and the other rides his dick, just so they both have something inside them that's equally good. Reader is gonna be sore and out of breath, limp on the bed as mohawk and sinister keep fighting on the floor. At least the view is good... 

Omni-mark and viltrum Mark are more stoic and just... quiet and thinking, planning. As much as viltrum mark loves his cock tortured, he loves doing it to reader as well. Reader starts sweating when he catches the two of them looking at him, more quiet than usual with thoughtful expressions on their faces. 

They both want to drain reader down their throats, and of course they both want a load to swallow of equal size and yes, they are stroking and milking until they get the same amount. Then they each want to ride the reader, with equal loads pumped inside them too. You have no idea how they check, cuz at this point reader would be seeing double. 

One of them rides you as the other laps at the readers balls, or bites and licks at the readers neck and chest. If they're feeling extra frisky, theyll ride your face as well. Even better if they are just having a conversation as well as they squeeze reader completely dry. 

[literary-dolly]

jailbird

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k warnings: police, reader gets held at gunpoint and arrested (whomp whomp) and it’s a bit brutal, other than that i think it’s fine

Can you really call it a meet-cute if you meet the love of your life in a prison cell?

Yeah, this was not how you thought your day was going to go.

When your boss had told you that you needed to go and work a shift in Bludhaven, you’d shrugged. It was Bludhaven, how bad could it be? It certainly couldn’t be any worse than Gotham and it’s collective of rogues that seemed to haunt every street corner these days. Oh, and the giant man dressed as a bat. Everywhere needs it's selling point.

As it turns out, Bludhaven must be the safest place on earth, because seemingly their biggest perpetrator is you.

Everyone knew about the corrupt cops, that was a given. Everyone knew about the rag-tag villains that made their way over from Gotham and the like. What everybody didn’t know about Bludhaven, was the danger of being dragged out of your car at gunpoint by a police officer, being screamed at to get on the ground as traffic skidded perilously close to your body, handcuffed and raced to the nearest police station with the sirens screaming in your ears.

You were keeping your cool, which honestly, was quite the feat. The beginnings of tears had pricked at your eyes as they read your rights (because clearly that was something that had been considered when you’d been thrown onto the concrete), the thrum of your heartbeat rushing around your head and clouding every conceivable thought. But you held it together in spite of it all, refusing to give the smarmy officer with a twisted grin the satisfaction of watching you break down.

You still didn’t even know what you’d done.

Their hands are rough as they begin to muscle you towards a holding cell, jeering as they push you forward, feet stumbling to keep upright. You lip begins to throb from the force of your teeth sinking deep into the flesh, but still, you manage not to break.

The cells are remarkably empty, save for one a lone man whistling in the corner (he promptly quiets when you and the officers enter), and you’re pushed forward into one without much thought, knees hitting the ground sharply with the force of the shove. They don’t even take your cuffs off.

“Give us half an hour, sweetheart, we’ll be back,” the big, round officer chuckles snidely, a barking laugh coming from his counterpart behind him. The two make quiet jokes to each other as they bicker back and forth. The final swing of the door slamming shut makes every muscle tighten, and when they release again, everything else seems to be unleashed with it.

The tears are coming thick and fast before you can even register the wetness on your cheeks – it’s not sadness, its rage. You muffle quiet sobs with the back of your hand as you brush yourself off, hoisting yourself upwards with what feels like every ounce of energy left within. You hadn’t even been able to call your job and tell them that you had gotten a little caught up and probably wouldn’t be making it in today. With this luck, you were probably going to be fired by 5pm this evening.

“Hey,” a rough voice calls from across the room, startling you from your thoughts. It’s surprisingly tender, “You doin’ okay?”

You wipe your eyes roughly, staring upwards towards the man in the cell across from you, taking him in with a long glance. He’s tall, but more so than that, he’s huge. Honestly, it’s a surprise they fit him through the doors around here. Even through his tattered hoodie and jeans, it’s not hard to tell he has the physique of some kind of bodybuilder, the muscles in his forearms taut as he leans casually against the bars. A mop of unruly black hair lays atop his head, broken by a vivid strike of white curled against his forehead.

In normal circumstances, you would be intimidated by the sheer stature of a man like him, but his eyes are what capture your attention. A gentle baby blue, flecked with stripes of green than seem to flicker as he stares – they’re kind. There’s a softness to his gaze that was more courteous than any other you’d experienced so far today.

He’s exceptionally attractive, so there’s always that.

“Yeah, yeah,” your voice is brittle when it finally comes out, “I’m, uhm, okay, just a rough morning.”

“What have they got you in here for?” His head tilts to the side with and ever so slightly furrow of his brow, “no offense, but you don’t exactly strike me as the armed robbery type.”

You have to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, “Uhm, I’m not really sure, to be honest with you. I was just driving to work and now I’m here.”

“What?” His voice is sharp and there’s an edge to it that can’t be mistaken, “they just arrested you and didn’t tell you what it was for? That’s like Policing 101.”

“Tell me about it,” you huff, heart rate finally beginning to slow, “I…haven’t done anything. I mean yeah, I accidentally stole that yoghurt at the checkout but that was like a month ago, and that was just because I forgot to scan it! And that was in Gotham, not here. I’ve never even been here before!”

A grin fights its way onto the face of the handsome stranger, and he shakes his head in what seems to be a smidge of disbelief, “Oh that’ll be it, I hear they’ve been looking for the reprobate that did that one for weeks now. But seriously,” he pauses and his eyes narrow, “they hurt you?”

“No,” you hum, before sighing and settling yourself back onto the floor, it was likely going to be a fair bit longer than half hour before you got out of here anyway, “they were a little rough. Unnecessarily forceful, pulled a gun, but I’m not hurt.” Not physically anyway.

If you weren’t staring directly at him, you would’ve missed the way the stranger’s eyes darken, swathes of green seeming to swim faster around his irises. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked like he was planning a murder. You’re suddenly struck by the potential danger of your new companion, after all, he was trapped in a cell same as you.

He shakes the look from his eyes almost instantly, stretching his noticeably uncuffed hands out behind him with a sickening crack. For a second, he seems to wince at the action but quickly pulls himself back to his languid stance against the bars.

“What about you?” you bite the bullet despite your reservations, offering him a small smile to show there was no animosity in the question, “what did they get you for?”

“Armed Robbery,” he replies without missing a beat making you choke a little, a shark-like grin stretching across his lips, a soft chuckle rattling his chest, “No, I'm joking. Speeding - but I happen to be a very good driver.”

“Oh, is that right?” you bite back playfully, “I thought I took the wrong turn to the motor track but apparently I made it in the end.”

Both of your laughs seem to mingle together in the stagnant air of the cells, his deep vibrato making something stir in the pit of your stomach. Isn’t this like rule number one of stranger danger? Don’t be enchanted by random man met in prison cell on a Tuesday lunchtime.

“Okay, Comedy Club,” the stranger lets out a bemused sigh, “so tell me, how does a degenerate like you end up in a paradise like Bludhaven?”

Your eyes meet for a second, and in spite of every warning sign, you can’t help but feel an affinity for this guy. He’s funny, and he’s handsome, and oh fuck it, it’s not like there’s anything else you could stand a chance to lose today.

“So, it starts with my bastard of a boss, right?”

Handsome stranger is in the middle of regaling you with a story about how him and his best friend accidentally turned a lighter into a blowtorch when the angry voice cuts through the room, metal door slamming open with a clang against the wall behind it.

“Jason, seriously? Why can’t you just call like a normal person? One-twenty in a fifty! I mean seriously!” A dark-haired officer rushes forward to face Jason’s cell. He’s not as tall as the former, a lot leaner, but seems to be fairly strong from the way the bars rattle as his hand clamps around one, “You know how busy I’ve been. If this is about B-“

“Dickhead,” Jason bites with a smug grin, nodding towards you in the cell opposite, “Good to know your senses are as astute as always. I know Alfred taught you the same manners he taught me. We have company.”

The officer spins on his heel with a sheepish grin, a nervous laugh dripping from his mouth. He’s also strikingly attractive in that universally-accepted, male model kind of way – not as much so as Jason, who seems to be constructed entirely of hard lines and edges.

“Pardon my manners, I’m Officer Grayson. Dick Grayson,” the man offers kindly, a warm mirth in his eyes, “I was simply distracted by this one here. He’s a real problem, like, you wouldn’t believe.”

Jason kicks him through the bars, eliciting a yelp from Dick, who only seems to offer him a scowl in response. You realise all at once the similarities between how the two hold themselves, their seemingly boisterous way with one and other, and also the fact that Officer Grayson hasn’t called in any support and tackled Jason to the ground. Brothers.

“I did call, Dickiebird,” Jason hums, “You didn’t pick up.”

“You called once, Jay!” Dick sounds utterly exasperated, “I’m at work – and trying to be professional.” Dick throws a few pointed head movements in your direction.

“It’s important, Dick,” Jason’s voice steels, and all of a sudden there’s the same seriousness you caught a glimpse of briefly when you’d mentioned the gun earlier, “About our mutual friend, you know the one.”

Concern passes Dick’s face briefly, the light of realisation brightening his eyes. Wordlessly, Dick swipes his badge against the cell door, and it swings open, prompting Jason to straighten up to his full height and step out into the light.

Heaven almighty.

“I get off in twenty, and I reckon we have about thirty before they realise you’re not going to show up on the system. Can I trust you to wait outside?” Dick concedes, staring uncertainly towards his brother.

“Been outside before, Dickhead,” Jason grumbles roughly, “Not a fucking animal.”

“Yeah, okay Jay. Cuffs?” Dick asks, brow pinched between his fingers. Without a sound and nothing more than a shit-eating grin, Jason slowly peels the missing cuffs out of his pocket, placing them in Dick’s open palm, who reacts with little more than a sigh, “I’ve been telling them we need better ones for months.”

“Cuffs aren’t the problem, Dickie,” Jason chuckles, pushing his way past his counterpart towards the door. Dick turns on his heel and begins to follow, reaching around to open the door.

“I don’t understand why you were in there for so long, Jaybird. You could’ve broken out hours ago,” Dick mutters, seemingly to himself more than anything.

Jason’s gaze flicks to you, warmth in his features, and with a soft smile he utters, “I had some pretty good company. See ya’ around, Comedy Club.”

You offer him a soft smile in return, trying to ignore the way your heart batters against your ribcage. Jason.

The door shuts behind them. You are alone, again, still in a prison cell and mostly definitely in need of a new job – but for some reason, you don’t feel too bad about it all.

It takes all of five minutes for Dick to return, storming in and muttering profanities under his breath. He presses his badge against your cell door. It swings open, and he takes a hasty step forward to start undoing the cuffs that have left deep indents on your wrists.

“I can’t give you those hours of your life back, but I can apologise,” his words are sincere, and marred by some kind of resentment, “I am so sorry about this. They mistook you for someone else who we’ve had a warrant out for a while now – but they had no reason to treat you like they did. If you want to press charges, I can point you in the right direction.”

“It’s alright,” you offer, surprised by the cheer in your own voice, “it really wasn’t that bad in the end. And I can check one thing off the bucket list, I suppose.”

Dick chokes back a laugh, unable to fight the grin that fights its way forward. “I like you, kid, you got some spirit. Now come on, enjoy your freedom. Who knows how long it’ll be before you're back behind bars again, huh?”

The transition out of the station goes a lot more smoothly than your entrance. As you take your possessions back from the front desk, you’re fairly certain you can hear Dick admonishing the two officers that arrested you from the adjacent room.

Now, that makes you smile.

Stepping out into the parking lot, you feel silly as you glance around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Jason before you likely never see him again – maybe even exchange numbers. You find yourself thoroughly unsurprised when he’s nowhere to be seen.

By the time you make it back home to Gotham, the sky has dulled to a smog-laced, inky black, nothing but moonlight bleeding out into the darkness. It may be gross, criminally-infested and maybe the worst-holiday destination in the entire world, but its home. As your keys sink into the front door of your apartment building and your breath pools out in an icy furl, you swear you catch a flash out of red out of the corner of your eye. It’s probably nothing more than some rogue out causing trouble after sundown, nothing out of the ordinary.

It's only when you collapse onto the couch that the weight of the day finally hits you, limbs feeling suspiciously like lead as you melt into the cushions.

What a day.

Jason joking about armed robbery like he doesn't commit actual murder on the regular.

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If not, leave me alone.

[zepskies]

Omg yay!! @tofics Welcome back, friend!! ❤️❤️ I'm so glad you're tuning into this one because you'll see some Smoke Eater type stuff in this mini series too - with the added fun of a plus-sized reader. 😘

Okay, first of all - love love loooveeee @redhoodieone for requesting this and @zepskies for bringing it to life. Firefighter!Dean just does things to me. And yes, Alex, it's all your fault. (Thank you!) And now the reader is an ELEMENTARY TEACHER? ARE YOU KIDDING ME! That only happens to be what I'm studying! It's like this trope was written for me 😭

Omg that's right!! I love that you can relate to this story on multiple levels, and the reader being an elementary teacher was part of the request too! ❤️

Now. I know I've said it before, but as a plus-size girly myself, reading fics where the reader is plus-size herself not only helps with the immersion, but also becomes even more of a delight when they're pictured as desirable. And you did such a good job with that. The repeated slaps on reader's ass, his obvious attraction to her, but most importantly, his outrage when she calls herself fat. Like he can't even believe she'd think of herself that way, because that title simply never occurred to him. Such a rewarding and healing thing to read! 🥹

Ughhh I feel you so much here. Me being plus-sized myself, it's always fun for me to give myself this escape and write how I wish all of us would be treated, especially when we get down on ourselves. That scene at the end was very self-indulgent in a way, but at the same time it made sense for the reader character and how Dean sees her! And also, I just feel that Dean wouldn't mind having his hands full. 😏❤️‍🔥

And god, all those feelings of comparing herself to Lisa and Jo. I wish I didn't know that sinking feeling in her gut when she talked about how she had to slim herself down to fit into the dress, while Lisa and Jo do it so effortlessly. Or the absolute gut-punch that was Lisa's talk about "sticking to a clean diet for the baby" - as if she gives two shits about the little one growing in reader's belly 😒 Ten bucks say she secretly wishes there was no baby to begin with (which, honestly, theoretically I can't blame her for...), nor that she cares about the reader's "health". Fat shaming packaged as "caring". 🤮 Ugh, it made me so mad just reading it! (You wrote it so well 🥲)

lmfaooo pure personal experience on this one! 😅 While I'm sorry you can relate to the reader here like I do, I'm glad you thought it was written well! Lisa being a total bitch in this one loll, disguised in "niceness and politeness" to me is always worse than being blatantly nasty for some reason. It's more like the kinds of things we probably deal with on the day-to-day, when you don't know if something knows they're being a bitch or not, or if they're really trying to hurt you.

GIRL. Now why was this so freaking hot. Jesus Christ. And then his admiration when she's on top next morning 😭

Because who would expect a selfless (generous) man on a one-night stand? 🤭

*dreamy sigh* And this. THIS. The moment where he catches her disappointment. (Cause, ngl, I would've been uncertain as hell myself if I'd just slept with this guy for the third time in one night and suddenly he's scrambling to leave...)

It's an important moment! Shows that Dean is not trying to make her feel like he just used her for sex, he really just is running late. 😂 He's a good guy, he just has a lot of growing to do. 💓💓

Oh, Dean Winchester, the man you are. Alex, I can't wait to see where this goes! Lisa as a more bitchy version is quite the interesting read, and their little unintentional three-way set-up is bound to cause some drama 👀 And I'm here for it!!! Can't wait for the next chapter - coming out on here just one day after my birthday! Can't wait to read it 💓

He's extra something special, all right. 😩

Girl I can't wait to share Part 2 on Sunday!! (Soon and very soon!) It's a huge rollercoaster of emotions we're headed down, and this is only the first leg of it. 😂

Omg Happy early Birthday!! 💕

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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[opalblade]

21 MARCH 25.

𓂀 THE ASTROLOGY OF BLACK PEOPLE .

AN: this is a post by a dark skin black woman of west african descent. please keep that in mind. my experiences and cultures will largely inform this post.

SOURCE FOR ART BELOW

⭐️ PLANET RULERSHIP .

the idea for this post started when i was sat thinking about how all of astro tumblr said black people are ruled by saturn.

i would like to say that's crazy! i understand the thought process, but we (black people) are not defined by our oppression and struggle! we have cultures and a multitude of other things to offer as well!

saturn rules over things like oppression and poverty. it makes sense considering the history of the black diaspora, slavery and colonialism to associate saturn with us. does saturn have a good side too? yes! however, i do not believe we are solely ruled by saturn. many other demographics could be saturnian based on their experience with oppression.

i, personally, find that the sun correlates best to black people and the black diaspora.

the most obvious reason is that our skin contains a TON of melanin, which is our natural protection from the sun! (please please please wear sunscreen though. we still need it.)

the sun is related to gold, as are black people. we have an entire country that was named the "gold coast" (present-day ghana) due to its plentiful gold reserves. many black cultures hold gold in particularly high esteem and to this day, i see black people wearing gold more than any other metal.

black people are associated with pride in ourselves and our cultures. we are noted to have rich and ancient cultures, the oldest actually. one thing the sun represents is hierarchy, and black cultures tend to have a focus on this - particularly respecting our elders.

we're known for our self-expression and dominating the arts — see: the entire music industry, the harlem renaissance, reggae, ska, samba, afrobeats, highlife, amapiano etc. it goes on. we influence culture through our self-expression and have found ways to liberate ourselves through self-expression. a great example of this is capoeira, an afro-brazilian martial art disguised as a dance. our cultures are heavily inspiring and imitated with everyone wanting to wear braids, our clothes, take part in our music and people are even obsessed with our food. the sun rules over leo and the 5h. our dominance over the arts is not to be dismissed, nor can it be ignored.

the sun rejoices in the 9h. black people have a particular relationship with religion and education. black women are the most educated group in the usa. the church has played a large role in black cultures and communities historically and still does today. we can see this most obviously with martin luther king jr. not to mention, we have our own indigenous religions that managed to survive slavery and spread from africa to the americas. there are several different religions thriving among black people - with lots of black africans taking part in both muslim and christian festivities.

the sun also exalts in aries. black people are known to pioneer many things and focus on self-determination of the diaspora. our movements inspired many other movements and our cultures have inspired many other cultures and artists.

if anything, black people are more likely to be ruled by the sun and not saturn... we are not simply suffering.

honestly we could be ruled by jupiter too (rules over 9h and 12h, rejoices in the 11h of community, the plentiful resources in africa, jupiter's exaltation in cancer....). if you have some thoughts, please share!! i'd love to talk more about this <3 i may make a separate post breaking this down.. there's a lot more to say!

⭐️ PAN AFRICANISM .

Pan-Africanism is a general term for various movements in Africa that have as their common goal the unity of Africans and the elimination of colonialism and white supremacy from the continent.

SOURCE.

i looked at the charts of some of the most influential pan-africanists to find the astrological essence of the movement.

[ malcolm x, marcus garvey, kwame nkrumah, w.e.b du bois, patrice lumumba, nelson mandela, frantz fanon ]

their big 3 showed clear ketu, rahu and jupiter dominance.

ketu represents the past and liberation. rahu represents the future and innovation. it's not surprising that the nodes showed up prominently in their charts. pulling on the myth of ketu and rahu, they were separated and split into a headless body (ketu) and bodiless head (rahu). this mirrors the creation of the black diaspora, which was created due to the horros of slavery and black people being split up across the atlantic ocean. i believe both nodes showing up represents a return to wholeness that pan-africanists aimed for.

rahu also aims to critique society (seen in ardra) and revolutionise it. there is a large focus on changing society and removing its perceived injustices.

jupiter is a guru, known as "the teacher to the gods". his role is to bestow wisdom and remove ignorance. the aim of removing white supremacy from the black diaspora and from the african continent required a lot of education. most of these men were intellectuals and placed heavy emphasis on educating the black community.

⭐️ AFRO HAIR CARE .

@vindelllas post on hair in vedic astrology ends with contemplations on protective hair styles such as braids. venusian hair as venus gives curly hair and our hair is coily (the tighest form of curls) plus the adornment of braids and other african hairstyles. braids were also a status symbol in african societies such as ancient egypt (venus rules over elitism).

unfortunately, black people really hate our natural hair. we've been forced to feel ashamed of our coils and kinks and now we perpetuate these same cycles. we use relaxers that burn our scalps, fry our hair and even give us cancer... we use braiding hair that tugs at our roots causing traction alopecia and also gives us cancer. our hatred of our hair is literally killing us. it's devastating and, for some reason, still the source of major discourse when the truth is blatantly obvious.

this all causes a damaged venus. this reflects even further in the black community. the hatred of women (ruled over by venus), our bodies, our freedom etc. the blatant disrespect towards us, the harm done onto us, and the way we are controlled. we are seen as "the least desirable women" and we are constantly made fools of and degraded by our own people and other races. however, our features are copied en masse — our naturally full lips, our naturally full figures, our braids, our fashion sense. all venusian things that are copied and mimicked while we are put down and called "ugly".

unfortunately, a lot of us internalise this hatred. on the topic of hair, many women wear wigs to hide their natural hair, which they call "difficult", "ugly" and "manly". they use relaxers to achieve a straightened look, or constantly silk press their hair. it's undeniably out of self-hatred and i'm tired of pretending it's not.

it's gotten so bad that women wearing "stiff wigs" or even their natural hair, and not aligning with the goal of conforming perfectly to eurocentric ideals are deemed as "less black". it sounds crazy, but it's true. black women that wear their natural hair or wear "obvious" wigs are seen as wanting to pander to white people.... there's lots to be said, but i'll leave it there.

hair relaxers specifically cause two types of cancer — uterine (uterus) and breast cancer. it's a clear attack on women as women are the ones who use relaxers the most. same with braiding hair.

this post is very important. we need to learn to start loving our natural kinky and coily hair! it's venusian and we need to treat it as such. with love, care and devotion.

i also love this post, relating our hair's transformative qualities to mermaids. we definitely need to embrace our hair's flexibility and malleablity. it's definitely fragile, which is why we wrap it up in silks, and we need to treat our crowns with such reverence. romanticise and truly fall in love with your afro hair, ladies!! 💋

. *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚ . *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　

© 2025 opalblade. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[vmlnrzmp4]

heyyy!!! Can I request a family dinner w bllk dad's and their daughters (possibly w their future partner???)

𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

—turned out more angsty than i thought.

itoshi sae

when kai had gone abroad, sae genuinely thought the distance would make natsuki's and kai's feelings for each other disappear. he was wrong. the distance only made them yearn more for each other. especially when sae accompanied natsuki at the airport to welcome kai, sae felt...sad when he saw how the kids ran towards each other and secured each other in an embrace. here at the dinner table, natsuki and kai thought they were slick, holding hands under the table but sae noticed. obviously he did. he's sae. he exhales, putting his chopsticks down, making everyone's attention go to him. and he asks the question—if kai actually has feelings for natsuki. and without hesitation, the words leave kai's mouth—i love natsuki. you could already sense sae's heart paining. honestly, you felt the same, not on sae's level however. but the atmosphere seemed to lighten when sae called out them for their pda and warned about it. but atleast, he approved.

itoshi rin

on one side, there was rin. on the other were souta and shouma. and then between all this? were poor sakura and hiro. if looks could kill, hiro would be dead thrice now. you noticed ofcourse, and that was it for you. you stepped up, glaring at the three—rin, souta and shouma, telling them to cut it out. the twins tried to reason but you shut them up by saying that they're still too young to be like this. it was disrespectful considering that sakura and hiro are older than them. then you turned to rin, your expressions even colder now as you scold him, saying how because of him the twins are getting this behaviour from him. rin was about to argue. but he decided to shut his mouth, considering that's a better option than to face your wrath. you then scolded the three of them together saying that you knew they were protective over sakura but it is sakura's relationship, they should not butt in. and with that, you exhaled. and you smiled as if you didn't make the three almost piss their pants.

isagi yoichi

compared to the other families, isagi household was thankfully calm and peaceful. as for yoichi and kaito—no father and brother wanted to imagine their daughter and sister dating. but kaito, who was initially very overprotective(just like his papa) over yuki—was now all buddy buddy with kazuki. and yoichi who initially had a beef with painting(only because it was kazuki's hobby) was now impressed by kazuki's art skills. the dinner was wholesome with yoichi(and kaito) actually communicating with kazuki. sharing stories and jokes and laughing over them. (very domestic kazuki marry yuki already—). at last, you were just thankful the night ended on a good note.

michael kaiser

the tension was legit suffocating. you might think that alex would be regretting falling for the michael kaiser's days daughter. no. alex didn't regret one bit. and michael knew that. and michael hated that. like any other dad, michael was not ready to see his little girl grow up have get a lover already. but she did. which did cause a lot of chaos. but now the chaos was silent. like mentioned before—suffocating. you and alex were talking about pretty mundane things. anne would include herself here and there. and then there's her papa. cold and silent. and michael hated that too. he envied you. how you could casually talk to alex. but how could he even initiate? not when he literally told alex to get lost before. so michael thought it would be better to shut up. and that's why alex spoke first. "sir...i know your first impression of me wasn’t great," which was when he had called anne past midnight, "but i mean every word i say..." and that is—"i love anne," alex confesses, "i always have and always will." michael scoffs, but it's all amusement, "got a smart mouth huh?" "i mean every word, sir." "and i still don't approve," michael declares, as per him, his logic is that alex has to earn it. it cannot be granted. not when it comes to his princess.

a/n: hello darling! i apologize, it took a while to complete your request, but here you go🫶🏼

taglist: @anyaminz @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[petertingle-yipyip]

WAITING ROOM - JOAQUIN TORRES

Pairing: Joaquin X Reader // Word Count: 2,282

Summary: It’s not easy to date a superhero, so you stop. But when your biggest fear actually happens, you can’t seem to stay away.

You were sitting in Joaquin’s desk chair, using your toes to spin slightly side to side. You were - again - waiting for him to come back from whatever assignment he had with Sam.

The hard part about dating a superhero-in-training was getting used to the potential life or death situations he put himself in.

Yes, he was capable. Yes, he was strong and brave. Yes, you admired what he did and loved him for it. But it was harder than you thought to make the adjustment.

Sleeping alone because he was out of town, saving someone who needed it. Eating alone because the mission went sideways. Caring for wounds he shouldn’t have gotten, but he couldn’t help the intel was outdated. Putting a smile on your face everytime he left with the promise of coming back in one piece. Those were the cuts that always bled.

How many nights had you stayed awake, waiting for him to walk in? How many nights did you stay awake when he was recovering in case he needed you? How much food had you left out to get cold because you just couldn’t eat? How many messages had you left on his phone when he didn’t come home on time?

How much longer could you do it?

He was back from training exactly when he said he would be. A rare occurrence that you were both glad for and dreading. You spun to face him and smiled.

“Hey.” He grinned and you felt a weight settle in your stomach. This conversation wouldn’t be easy. “Told you I’d be on time today.”

He passed by you to put his stuff away, making sure to stop and kiss the top of your head first.

“Joaquin?” You quietly tried for his attention while your eyes landed on your shoes. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about…”

“I already know.” He answered and your head snapped up. “Date night. We could try that new Mexican place? I’ve heard good things.”

“Oh…” Your gaze fell again. How could you forget date night?

You made your decision then. You could talk about it later. You shook your head and stood, plastering that fake smile again. No one breaks up on date night.

“Hang on.” He stepped in front of you, a hand on either of your shoulders. He scanned your face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You tried the smile again.

“It’s not nothing. I know that look. That’s the ‘I have to say something I don’t want to’… Oh, shit. Did someone die?”

If only it was that simple.

“No one’s dead.” You said honestly. “We can talk later, okay? It’s date night.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you talk to me, querida.”

You closed your eyes with a deep sigh.

“I need you to know it’s for the better.” You spoke, still hiding behind closed eyes. “Please know that.”

“You’re scaring me… What’s going on, Y/N?” He said quietly. He gave your shoulders a small squeeze and you had to force yourself to push his hands off. “Y/N?”

“It’s for the better.” You said again, turning away from Joaquin. You’d never be able to say it if you had to look into those damn eyes. “I love you, J. You know that, and I love what you do. I’m so proud of you. You’re a superhero. That’s amazing. But I…”

“Hey…” His hand landed on your arm but you pulled away almost immediately. “Did I do something?”

“No, you… Well, yes, but… I think we should consider taking a step back.” You finally managed. “You know it’s for the better.”

“I…”

“I want to be selfish. I want to ask you to pack it up and just be with me.” You forced yourself to face him despite the tears welling in your eyes. “But who am I to ask you for more? Sam needs you. You need this.” You gestured vaguely towards the door. “I know that, but I need you too.”

“You have me.” He reached for your hand and you let him take it. He placed your hand over his heart and held it there. “You have me.”

“I love you.” You cried.

“I love you, too.” His eyes were welling with tears of his own. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“It’s for the be-“

“No, it isn’t!” He cut in. “In what world is this better? You need me, right? That’s what you said. You need me. Well, I need you, too. Just- Just tell me what you need me to do, querida. Tell me, please.”

You shook your head. “I can’t… What I need you to do, I can’t ask you. I can wish all that I want, but I can’t bring us together, Joaquin. I can’t have you.”

“But you do.”

You pulled your hand free. You felt a deep cold settling under your skin, as if breaking up with Joaquin stole all the heat from your body. You watched him nod slightly and wipe his sleeve across his eyes.

“I love you.” You whispered. “You’re going to be the perfect Falcon. I always believed in you. That’ll never change.”

He forced a tight smile and then blew out a sigh. You reached a hand for his cheek and then thought better of it. You patted his chest instead before leaving.

You didn’t talk to Joaquin much after that. There were a few exchanges, sending something the other thought was funny. Joaquin sent a picture of the skyline when you assumed he was flying. You liked that he still thought of you in those moments. He even tried to call you once or twice. You hadn’t answered either attempts, but he did leave a voicemail that you hadn’t listened to.

Something about hearing his voice would leave you missing him all the more.

It was a few weeks after the break up that you got the call.

“Y/N?” Sam spoke quickly, anxiously. The background sounded busy so you assumed he was on mission. But if Sam was calling you during a mission…

“Sam?” You answered with the same urgency. “What’s wrong?”

“He went down.”

“What?”

Everything in your body ran cold. Your worst fear was happening on the other end of the call, taunting you from a distance you just couldn’t reach. Your kind just kept repeating one simple word.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

“I’ll send you the address. Get there as soon as you can.”

“Wait.” You tried but the call ended.

Your phone buzzed with the address and you were shoving your feet into the closest pair of shoes. Snatching your purse, you stumbled over untied laces on your way out the door.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Miraculously, you arrived at the hospital without a speeding ticket. The receptionist directed you to the room and your heart stopped in your chest when you got to the viewing area.

“Dear God…” You whispered.

Sam came to your side and put a gentle hand on your back. You practically threw yourself at him. You hugged your friend tightly and he returned the embrace.

“He’s gotta be okay.” You cried against him. “I need him to be okay.”

“He’s a tough kid.” Sam offered. “He’ll pull through.”

“How do you know?” You leaned away to look at Sam.

“Cause he knows you need him.” Sam gave a strained smile. “And he’s stubborn.”

You chuckled weakly. “I thought it’d be better if we broke up.”

You and Sam went back to the window. Watching the doctors move efficiently, seeing the tubes sticking out of him, glimpsing the numbers for his vitals. It all felt like a sledgehammer in your chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were wrong. Wrong to break up with him, wrong to not be stronger, wrong to walk away from him.

He wanted to fight for your relationship. He was willing to do whatever you had asked. He begged you to stay and all you could say was ‘It’s for the better’.

Looking at him in that state, how was anything better?

You curled up in one of the chairs on the other side of the room. You stared at the wall, tears quietly falling in steady streams, until your eyes were so dry and heavy you had to close them. Even in sleep, your mind was on Joaquin.

Sam eventually shook you awake and led you to Joaquin’s new room.

“How’d he do?” You asked quietly.

“Doctors had to restart his heart.” Sam confessed.

You stumbled over your still untied laces.

“Did he tell you the last thing I said to him?” You said weakly, practically clinging to your friend. “That I loved him and I’d always believe in him… Right before I walked away from him. What if he had died, Sam? What if they couldn’t get his heart going again? The last thing I said would’ve been breaking up with him.”

“Y/N…” Sam stopped in front of the door and frowned at you. “Right now, he’s gonna need you. I’m in the middle of some heavy shit, so you need to step up for his sake.”

“He won’t want to see me.”

“Last time he called you, you didn’t answer. He left you a voicemail. You ever listen to it?”

You shook your head.

“Go in there and listen to it. If you can tell me he wouldn’t wanna see you after, then you won’t have to come back.”

You sighed in resignation. Truthfully, you were too mentally drained to argue anymore. You shook your phone in silent confirmation and snuck into the room. The door clicked shut behind you and you settled into one of the chairs.

“If you wanted me to come around, you didn’t have to get shot out the sky, J.” You tried to joke, though you were the only one to hear it. “You always were dramatic though, huh? … You better pull through, or else I’m going to the afterlife and dragging you back by your ear.”

You sunk deeper into the chair and pulled up the voicemail.

‘Hey, Y/N! I guess I didn’t really expect you to answer. Kinda hoped you would, though. Just so I could hear your voice again… Hey! I, uh, I was flying earlier with Sam and I just couldn’t help thinking that you would hate it.’

He laughed a little and your heart ached. You scooted the chair a little closer to prop your feet against the bed frame and keep a gentle hold of his hand.

‘I know you kept saying it was for the better, but not a day has gone by without me thinking of you… I miss you, y’know? I come back from training or something and I- I look for you still. I check my phone for your text. I found your sweatshirt in my car and I almost started crying… Just call me back. Maybe? If you want. Huh?’

There was a bit of background conversation. You could just make out your name and some light teasing. Whatever Sam was saying, you couldn’t quite make out but judging by Joaquin’s embarrassed laugh, it was poking fun at him calling you.

‘I gotta go, but… Call me back? Okay, bye.’

You locked your phone and leaned your head back with a heavy sigh. Your heavy eyes closed again.

“For the better, my ass.” You muttered.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep again. The emotional rollercoaster of the day wore on you more than you had expected. There hadn’t even been time to fight the second nap.

The only thing that drew you out of it was the light squeeze of your hand. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up quickly. The bright sun coming through the windows blinded you momentarily.

A hospital room, the beeping of the heart monitor, the faint smell of sanitizer, a warm hand in yours.

“This is what it takes for you to come by, huh?” He asked playfully, a rasp in his voice that made your heart lurch.

“You idiot!” You scolded quietly. The aforementioned idiot smiled. “You could’ve died, J!”

“But I didn’t.” He offered with that stupid smile on his face still.

“Stop smiling! This is serious! If you had died, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” You admitted quickly. Being in that hospital, seeing the doctors restart his heart, it put everything into a new perspective. “Goddammit, Joaquin. I love your dumbass and you decide to get shot out the sky over the ocean! You’re lucky to have survived!”

“Y/N, I-“

“No, this is where you listen.” You said firmly. Tears were welling in your eyes so you dropped your gaze to the floor. Joaquin squeezed your hand slightly in response. “I thought it was selfish to keep you to myself. And, yeah, maybe it is. But I am selfish. I don’t want to share you with the world… I will, because I have to. Because you’re the Falcon and you’ve earned that.”

You forced your eyes up, ignored the tears down your cheeks, just so you could see Joaquin’s expression. His smile had fallen by then and his eyes were wide and attentive.

“You deserve to live your dream, J.”

“You’re my dream, querida.” He said softly. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

“I need you to live.” You stated plainly. “You’ll get hurt and you’ll be gone late and you’ll be off-grid sometimes. But you have to live.”

“If I’m coming home to you, I’ll live as long as you’ll have me.” He chuckled weakly. “I love you, Y/N.”

“This is for the better.” You nodded. “I love you, J.”

[spiritgutz]

TWO TIME HEADCANONS

i am obsessed with this freak and need to dump my thoughts

WARNINGS: brief mentions of blood (involving two time's wings) and cults, two time being two time word count: 914

authors note: i'm extremely rusty with writing and i quite literally never use tumblr. please forgive any mistakes i've made as i try to get the hang of this 🙏

First of all, Two Time is absolutely enamored by you. The two of you are practically connected by the hip. It may seem a bit much, but they just feel so drawn to you! Why wouldn't they want to spend every waking moment by your side?

Very touchy. Their hand is usually almost always on some part of you in public, most likely on the small of your back or simply holding your hand.

They would likely refer to you as their "guardian angel."

You'll catch them staring a lot pre relationship with that signature smile on their face.

Glances turn into full-on staring, innocent touches seem to last longer, your personal space seemingly becoming shared between the two of you.

In all honesty you probably catch on fairly quick to their habits.

From across the cabin you could feel eyes trained on your frame. Most would find this unsettling, but you honestly didn't mind. You didn't move to find the source, nor acknowledge it for that matter.

However Chance, who you had just been talking to, seemed more focused on something behind you rather than conversing. You tilted your head in confusion before twisting your body around to discover the distraction. Ah, that suddenly made a lot more sense. Settled up on the second floor, Two Time gazed down at you while their arms rested on the wooden railing. Their smile seemed to grow the moment your eyes locked with theirs. Chance would address you, asking something along the lines of "Are they bothering you?" In response you would only wave your hand dismissively. Their behavior, albeit creepy at times, didn't bother you. It was almost...endearing.

As stated by the devs, Two Time is a little "insane in the membrane." But this doesn't mean that you love them any less!!

They can and will talk to you about the cult and the Spawn as a whole.

Speaking of that, Two Time would love for you to be a member of the cult someday! They won't force you by any means, but that doesn't mean they won't try and persuade you.

Sometimes you'll catch them watching you while you sleep. They'll just..stare at you. They almost act like a cat in that regard.

They sleep almost completely still minus the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

You might just end up staring at them instead. They look so peaceful when they're asleep, so serene.

I'd like to think that Two Time naturally runs colder than most people. Their hands would be like ice cubes.

PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE GIVE THAT CULTIST A HUG!!! WARM THEM UP RIGHT NOW!!!!

Two Time will melt if you touch their hair. I'm not arguing about this I am correct and anyone else is WRONG /lh

One of their favorite things is when you comb your fingers through their hair as they lay on top of you after a round is completed. It makes them feel safe

The two of you have totally fallen asleep on the cabin's couch before

If you're an active participant of the games(?), Two Time will always put your safety before theirs. A killer is trying to attack you? They’re using their body as a shield to protect you.

As much as they want to keep you safe, you're very against their methods. Your heart sinks whenever you see their wings burst from their back.

Sat on their bed, your hand gently trailed down from Two Time's shoulders, to their back, to just below where their wings had sprouted from their back the round prior. Their shirt still had remnants of dry blood, just barely blending into their black top.

You hadn't meant to get in the way. One moment you were assisting with a generator, and the next you were almost another victim of the masked killer, Jason. You surely would have perished right then and there if Two Time hadn't grabbed you by the arm, pulling you behind them as they took the blunt of the attack.

As you relived the events again in your head, a shuddered breath left the cultist sitting in front of you. Snapping out of your daze, you muttered an apology. You didn't want them to be hurt, to have put their life on the line for you.

"The Spawn would be pleased in knowing you're safe."

Two Time spoke, tilting their head back and smiling your way. It was pained.

Deep down you knew they would do anything for you, but you couldn't help but feel guilty. Even "The Spawn" seemed to encourage Two Time's efforts despite the pain that came with it. So wordlessly you shook your head.

You leaned forward, placing a soft but fleeting kiss just in-between their wings. Their posture stiffened at your actions, almost making you wonder if you had upset or even worse, hurt them. But they soon relaxed, releasing a sigh of contentment. You took notice of the way their face blossomed in color.

A wave of silence washed between you two. However as your finger traced shapes along their shoulder, your partner spoke up again, although a bit quiet.

"Perhaps they would be pleased with my safety as well.."

Their muttering, that small revelation—it brought a smile to your face. Carefully you leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek, causing them to chuckle. They're devoted to The Spawn, but to you as well. Even if it conflicts, they'll try and make you happy <3

[delulustateofmind]

Happy Friday! Today feels very sleepy so here's:

Yan!JJK Men x Sleepy Nonchalant!Reader

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

Tw: yandere behaviors, kidnapping, slight noncon/dubcon, somno, mentions of murder. MDNI.

At first, Gojo genuinely didn’t get it. He’s talking, and people love when he talks, he’s charismatic, funny, the strongest, so why are your eyes fluttering shut mid-sentence? Watching you with growing irritation, white brows furrowing, as your head tilts back into the plush pillow, your breathing going soft, right in the middle of his story about a fight the first years had.

A huff of a breath, that teasing lilt shifting to annoyance, “Are you seriously sleeping right now?”

But the longer he watches you, the harder it is to stay annoyed. You're not tense. You're not trying to escape. You're just... soft. Relaxed. Wrapped in his blankets, lying in the bed he picked out for you. The first time he returns from a mission to find you exactly where he left you, tangled up in his hoodie and the mountain of plush pillows he bought for you, it hits him, you must trust him. Or maybe you're just too sleepy to care, but that makes his chest ache in a whole new way, rather would assume you're actually just in love with him too.

You always greet him the same way. Barely awake. Raspy little voice coming out from under the blankets. “Welcome home…”

He climbs in next to you without any sort of hesitation. Wraps his lanky arms around you, face pressed into your neck. Clinging onto your warmth, pressing a few kisses here and there. He doesn’t care if you can’t stay awake through his stories anymore. He just wants to feel you melt into him. You try, sometimes, asking sleepy questions about his day, but your eyes always start drooping again.

He thinks it’s adorable. His sweet little darling can’t even stay up, but still tries to care.

Though, in bed, it’s a different story.

“Come on,” he groans, pouting against your throat, nipping the soft skin, leaving bites and wine red hues. “I'm making you feel good, aren't I? The least you can do is stay awake and moan for me, c’mon, baby, pleeease.”

All whiny and desperate, his hips snap harder, just to pull more sounds from your sleepy little self. Watching how your brows furrow, the way your mouth parts with soft, high whimpers before you start drifting again, lashes fluttering, body going loose as he presses your knees to your chest. Honestly it's a game for him at this point, how deep can he push you until you actually wake up.

But even when you go all quiet again, eyes slipping shut, he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re warm and pretty and pliant underneath him. Not when he’s this close, so deep inside you, clinging to every twitch of your body.

A free hand of his trembles just slightly as the warm palm settles on your waist. Leaning down with the other, giving your cheek a few lazy, gentle pats, ensuring you're still coherent enough.

Your lips part to protest, barely more than a sleepy murmur and he’s already kissing you. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your tired little whine as he thrusts deep, grinding into you as his third load spills inside. A soft groan against your lips, voice cracked and breathless. “Shhh… it’s fine, sleepyhead. You can sleep through the next few rounds.”

Geto was just so used to obedience, submission, fear. So when he caught you nodding off mid-sermon, he nearly lost his composure.

He almost thought he needed to kill you. To make an example of your disobedience and lack of etiquette in a temple. Your head tilted forward, body slouched, breathing slow while he preached about cleansing the world of filthy non-sorcerers. You looked like a child dozing in a classroom. Disrespectful. Pitiful.

And yet… intriguing enough. He couldn’t remember you. Couldn’t place your face. Maybe you were just a leftover, someone he spared when he exorcised the curse that used to cling to you. When he asked how you got here, how you found the temple, all you did was mumble, “It felt cozy…”

Cozy huh.

Something about your sleepy little pout, the way your lashes fluttered while you fought to stay awake. Making him feel a certain way as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and flashed him that sweet smile and a mumbled apology. He should’ve cast you out. Sacrificed you. But instead, he let you stay.

You became a quiet little fixture in his world. Always near him, even if you were barely conscious. He started carrying you during temple work, your body slumped against the silk of his robes or curled up in his lap as he held meetings and sermons. His followers knew better than to speak on it. You were an oddity, a stray he took in. And for all his cruelty, Geto had a possessive streak a mile wide.

When you slipped to your knees in front of him, dozing even as you lazily licked at the salty cum on the tip of his pretty cock, his breath caught. You were messy and tired, little bubbles of spit forming along his shaft, as you whined that your jaw ached. Suguru wasn't sure if he should praise you for being so cute, blowing bubbles on his cock with your sleepy drool or punish you for being a tease.

Instead he cradled your head, not out of kindness, but control, lacing his fingers in your hair. “You can take it,” he cooed, slowly pushing himself deeper down your throat. Ignoring any gags and whines. “Be a good girl. Just a little longer.”

The sight of you, eyes glassy, tear tracks glistening, mouth stretched wide with drool pooling at the corners. God, it made him feel divine. He needed to ruin you. Needed to remind you who your savior was.

So he started bringing you to his bloodiest sermons. Sat you right on his lap while he exorcised curses, while he slaughtered your kind. Kept you tucked against his chest, your soft little body pressed close while the screams echoed through the temple. He'd expect you to cry, not to cling onto him while you slept, nuzzling into his robes as he was your shelter. Ignoring the screams, the deaths of your kind. Perhaps a sleepy little pet won't be so bad.

Nanami didn’t want to do this. Kidnapping wasn’t exactly in his moral playbook. But you weren’t answering your phone, weren’t responding to texts, and every time he showed up at your apartment, you brushed him off with a sleepy smile and went right back to bed.

You were overworked. Exhausted. Probably depressed. And he couldn’t just leave you like that.

So, he took you.

Gently, packed up your things, moved you into his home. Carried you to bed and tucked you in. When you stirred, confused, he sat beside you and said, “You need rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

You were drowsy, but not frightened. That… worried him more. We're you just so done with life that it was easier to be kidnapped? Poor thing.

He started waking you just to feed you, his voice low and careful. “Open your mouth,” he’d say, spoon in hand. “You need to eat something.”

He hovered. Quietly fussed. Took your temperature, read articles about chronic fatigue, bought vitamins and supplements and all your favorite snacks. At first, he asked constantly if you were depressed. If something was wrong.

You always said no. Just sleepy. Just tired.

Eventually, it was just easier to believe you.

So, his whole routine revolves around you. He works his shifts, knowing you’ll be there when he returns. Curled up under his weighted blanket, breathing steady (he has to check sometimes), hair tousled and cheek pressed into his pillow. He gets undressed, slides in behind you, and you instinctively scoot back into his chest.

“Nnnh… Kento,” you murmur.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

He should feel guilty. He knows this isn’t normal. But you let him do this. You make soft noises when he holds you. Ignoring how his hands slip your sweet panties to the side. You cling to his bicep in your sleep, shifting against him as his fingers rub little circles on your sensitive nub. And when he wakes you with slow, careful fingers between your legs, dipping into your heat, your only response is a sleepy sigh and a tilt of your hips, letting him know he's doing a good job.

You never fight him. Never run. So he should just indulge himself, right?

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could you do honkai girls with an s/o who can transform like a Power Ranger or Kamen Rider?

(H:SR/ToCS) Firefly, Herta, Seele, Rappa, Laura, Emma, and Duvalie's S/O having a Power Rangers Transformation

"IT'S MAKING ME CRINGE, DUTCH!-" *VIOLENT COUGHING* - 99% of the characters in this post

Firefly at first was taken aback by S/O's wrist suddenly glowing a bright red color.

...Which were then quickly followed up by flashy and dramatic poses.

(S/O) "IT'S MORPHN' TIME!"

(Firefly) "Morphing what-?"

In an instant, S/O's body was overtaken by electricity, before their clothes were replaced with a red spandex jumpsuit, posing and an explosion appearing behind them.

Firefly couldn't react too outwardly, considering that she was still acting as SAM.

And...truthfully, yeah if she criticized them about it, it'd be the pot calling the kettle black.

She knew her transformations were sometimes dramatic, but that was a fear factor. S/O's on the other hand?

Well, even their explosion was color coded to their suit, so this was going a little overboard.

(Firefly) "...I wonder if the armor would form like that flawlessly if I posed like that too."

Herta was honestly fascinated by S/O's Power Suit, moreso than she was annoyed.

It was kind of funny too, if not cringeworthy.

(S/O) "GO, GALACTIC!-"

S/O pointed their sword heroically in the air, scaring the subjects Herta had them fighting against.

Which was impressive, considering they were all automatons.

(Herta) snrrk! "Is the catchphrase necessary?"

(S/O) "Absolutely it is!"

(Herta) "I see...Note to self, make prototype not require vocal confirmation-"

Once she got around to making her own for science, she would not be shouting that literally every single time she needed someone beat up.

As for the residual energy buildup, Herta would also make sure that a transformation would not cause a catastrophic explosion too.

Seele just groaned everytime a fight broke out near her and S/O.

Normally, she would have been concerned that the love of her life had the risk of getting hurt.

S/O's method of fighting was anything but normal.

(Grunt) "Tch, what is a Galaxy Ranger going to do, bring us to 'justice'?! Hah, get real!-"

(S/O) "I'm not just any ranger. Not by a long shot...!"

S/O stuck their hand out, reaching for the weird red lizard-themed wrist device on them.

(S/O) "I need more quantum power!"

Seele crossed her arms and waited impatiently, foot tapping on the ground waiting as the suit suddenly morphed around them, shocking everyone but her.

(Seele) "Can you get this over with already? I'm not gonna wait for you to summon your giant robot this time."

After seeing it for the 50th time this month, Seele is more than just a little over this flashy and stupid ass way of fighting.

Who the hell would even find this cool?!

(Rappa) "THAT IS SO FRIGGIN' COOL, NINJA KOIBITO!"

Rappa is basically frothing at the mouth the moment S/O transforms into their suit.

Even their lines mirrored hers, and which meant that it was over the top, obnoxiously loud, and flashier than the signs around Penacony.

It was to the point that Rappa copied S/O: lines, movement, and all.

(Rappa & S/O) "NINJA STORM, RANGER FORM!-"

Landing in front of the robbers they were bringing to justice, they struck a pose inflicting fear into their hearts!

...Or at the very least, left them confused as to what they were witnessing.

(S/O) "WITH THE SPEED OF THE WIND!"

(Rappa) "AND STRENGTH LIKE THUNDER!-"

Rappa has zero issues with their transformation, and is enjoying it perhaps a little too much.

(Rappa) "Ninja Koibito, you will get me a suit like yours, won't you?!"

Laura knew that S/O was part of a very eccentric Bracer group, but she truly had no idea how weird they were until seeing them in action.

She drew her greatsword, prepared to fight the monsters threatening the village before S/O ran past her, reaching for their wrist.

(Laura) "S/O! Hang on, we need to-"

(S/O) "LIGHTSPEED, RESCUE!-"

S/O apparently thought it was more important to pose in front of the monster than dodge it, something that gave nearly gave her a heart attack.

With a blinding light, S/O transformed into a red jumpsuit that effortlessly punched past the monsters, causing them to burst into a fiery explosion, one that nearly scorched her, as they effortlessly saved the townspeople behind them.

They landed from the explosion with a rather impressive flip, but she was still absolutely floored by their theatrics.

And the townspeople were just as weirded out as her.

(S/O) "Don't worry, we're here to save you! Now go!"

(Man) "T-Thanks...I think?"

(Laura) "S/O, are the poses required?-"

(S/O) "Hm? What poses?"

(Laura) "...Nevermind."

Now, Emma has dealt with and seen some strange magic in her time.

But never has she seen anything like the way S/O uses theirs.

Emma is half convinced it isn't really magic, since they were using a device that wasn't too dissimilar from an Arcus to activate it.

And she certainly hopes it wasn't, because just watching S/O transform gave her second-hand embarassment.

(S/O) "MAGICAL SOURCE, MYSTIC FORCE!"

As they dramatically posed and pointed their phone into the sky, Emma's hand slid down her face, slightly knocking her glasses out of position.

(Emma) "Dear Goddess...-"

She couldn't imagine having to do that everytime she used her staff, let alone keeping a straight face and not think it was the dumbest thing.

Emma would find the suit and cape kind of cool, if it weren't for the flamboyant poses they struck, and the explosions that happened everytime S/O finished fighting something.

Now that had to be magic.

She politely chooses not to say anything about it, for better and worse.

Duvalie's jaw dropped the first time she saw S/O in action.

She was in awe alright, awe of their stupidity.

S/O had brought an ancient lizard-like archaism to their control, colored it bright red, and even managed to make it pose with them.

On top of that, they changed into their combat gear with a dramatic flash of colors, complete with pose and catchphrase.

Duvalie's eye twitched as she watched them effortlessly bulldoze through scores of monsters.

Which someone in spandex, no armor, and a sword that borderline looked like a toy shouldn't be able to do.

Meanwhile, her two subordinates simply watched, turning to their head knight.

(Ines) "...Did they just shout, 'Dino-'"

Duvalie spun around to Ines, finger on her chest as her voice bordered full on yelling.

(Duvalie) "NOT. ANOTHER. WORD. Oh, they are SO DEAD THE MOMENT THEY COME BACK!"

(Ennea) "If anything, they're doing a good job. We were supposed to be here clearing them out. Perhaps we need to don their jumpsuits and-"

(Duvalie) "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I WOULD NEVER PUT ON SOMETHING SO STUPID LIKE THAT!"

(Ines) "And you let S/O do that?-"

(Duvalie) "IF THE TWO OF YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD, I'LL MAKE THEIR GIANT MACHINE EAT YOU!"

[kawhh]

Hi can we talk for a sec okay let’s talk

this is a pretty tame thought compared to everything else you write so sorry in advance

vampire!jack. Right.

he’s in a silly mood. he wanted O+ blood specifically and the bank sent O- and now he’s pissed. throwing the glass of blood at the wall and crossing his arms.

enter you, his delightful, mortal girlfriend who’s about 400 years younger than him, who also hates when jack doesn’t get what he wants.

solution? you introduce him to other ways he can quench his thirst. he’s been around for a while and eating pussy is an ancient art but god you were something else.

you trust him not to bite you because that was the first establishment in your relationship but in the process he sinks his teeth in your inner thigh.

claiming you.

etc etc etc

My love, it never matters how tame it is. I'm not even against trying to dabble more with fluff.

"He's in a silly mood" = he's throwing glasses. I'm cracking up.

Warnings: I can't be trusted to be normal about the AU. You find him slightly scary but apparently not enough to be reluctant about offering yourself up on a platter. He's well behaved until he's not. Restraining you physically, keeping secrets. Not proof-read.

He'd be such a pissy little brat about the blood. He'd find reasons to complain about everything about it. The wrong blood type, the wrong temperature. He heated it up too much, or not enough. Or how it just apparently tastes different sometimes.

He was frustrating and honestly a little scary when he was angry. He'd often sit there in silence, pouting, watching you with this absolutely feral look in his eyes, fully making you feel like prey.

Outside of his anger, he was pretty good about it. You could almost believe he wasn't a vampire. His self control was excellent, he never looked at you with hunger in his eyes. He never used his vampire strength against you, always managing to keep every touch light.

He'd promised to never bite you, to never scare you. You hadn't established many rules for your relationship, wanting to somewhat treat it like an everyday, normal partnership, but there were a few base rules.

The promise to never bite you, the promise to never scare you on purpose. The promise to never lash out in anger towards you and no attempts at hypnotizing you.

They've been set for months and he's never even come close to breaking them. He'd rather die again than hurt a hair on your head. He's careful with every action, not wanting to accidentally break one of them either.

He's barely even sexually touched you. He's not fully sure that he can keep himself in control, doesn't know how much you would tempt him, how he'd resist the urge to speed up just slightly past humanly possible while buried inside you.

You'd never tried to encourage it either, until now. Until you can't shift the pout from his face, watching him get hungrier and hungrier. He can't even control his fangs now, they're peeking out of his mouth, he's running his tongue along them like he's trying to soothe himself.

You know it'll be hours before there's even a chance of him getting replacement blood. They try and deliver everything fast, but there's a limit. Especially if they know they're dealing with hungry vampires. It's often even written into their contract - things can go horribly wrong when they get out of control.

It's not like he could sneak some away from a hospital either. If he wasn't hungry and was more himself, maybe. But when he's struggling for control and hungry? It'd be like an all you can eat buffet.

He's watching you like a hawk as you get closer, you can see the protests forming on his lips. His eyes narrowing, darkening by the second. Widening again slightly as you keep moving towards him, pushing your weight against his shoulders to make him fall more into the couch.

He's confused and he's nervous. You're so close to him, closer than you should be when he's this hungry. He doesn't know what to do with himself when you straddle him. He's scared to open his mouth, to scare you. He's scared to touch you, he doesn't trust himself to control his strength.

The further you scoot up him, the harder he's inhaling. He can smell you. His hands hovering an inch away from your skin. He can almost taste you. You're turned on. He can smell the scent of your arousal almost masking the scent of your blood. It's intoxicating, but also confusing.

Venom's filling his mouth, his fangs working on overdrive, but he's cautious. You've never done anything together. Why are you suddenly... there's no mistaking your intentions. He's cautious but not stupid. You're so aroused, your underwear is almost transparent. He can see the outline of your cunt through them, your arousal slowly leaking out the sides, trailing down your thighs.

He can't resist your advances any more. He can't do much to stop you and you're clearly on a mission. He can taste you in the air, you're helping dampen his hunger. He's yanking you forward the extra few inches, smothering his face against your cunt.

You're soaking his lips as he nuzzles into you, not needing to breathe. Sliding his tongue up your inner thigh, dragging it along the fucking delicious skin between your thigh and pussy. Lapping at you like a cat. He's fucked. Truly fucked. You taste like heaven. You're so wet.

Why the fuck hasn't he done anything with you before? He can clearly... stay in control, right?

He's fine so far. He feels fantastic even. Sure, his brain feels like he's been shocked when he finally lets his mouth drift further to the side, dragging your underwear to the side with his nose, resting his mouth over your soaking wet hole, breathing in deeply. But he's fine. Totally in control.

His fangs ache against you, he's trying so hard to not knick you with them, he can feel them resting against you, almost lining your cunt.

He needs more to fully control himself, the ache still present. The hunger still claws at him. He's hesitantly sliding his tongue inside you, needing more from the source. He can feel his fangs inside of you now, sliding further in with his ever increasing need to be buried inside you. He can't get close enough, can't get enough.

He's fucked the minute he accidentally gets a little too rough, knicking you slightly with one of them, the sudden drop of your blood in his mouth making him panic, but he can't pull back. He's too addicted to your taste. He's in too deep.

Lapping at the little wound, whispering broken apologies that you can't hear into you. Fuck, you taste so good. The mix of your arousal, the taste of your cunt mixed with your blood? He could scream.

He's gripping you tighter. He's breaking almost every rule in the book, but you're just so delicious and he's just so hungry.

You taste so much better than the blood he has delivered. He doesn't know how he'll go back. He can only think about getting more from the source. The wound's already healing from his saliva and venom.

His grip on you pins you down in place, even as you squirm. You're probably complaining about him and the damn rules. He can't bring himself to care, feeling too far gone.

He knows the risks. Knows that biting you with his current intentions and feelings towards you could cause major problems, problems that he should be discussing with you. It's your fault. You're the one who offered your cunt up on a platter.

Gasping for air he doesn't need as he pulls back, his target set. He's striking before you can blink, his fangs digging deep into your inner thigh, his bite sending shocks of pain through you. You're whining, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to get him out of you.

His pulls of your blood are slow, he's dragging it out. His new favourite meal, he doesn't want to rush it. He knows he's being harsh, but you need to understand how badly he needs you.

He's almost edging your skin, lifting up slightly to make a mess, the blood dripping down your thigh before he's licking it up.

He won't explain the bond he's forming. He can't lose this. You can't be aware of the danger. He'll have a hard enough time getting blood from you again after this, you'll be like a startled cat.