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kaleldobrev · 8 months ago

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You're Gonna Kill Me Sweetheart (3) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension, Slightly vulnerable Dean, Self-Loathing Dean & Sexual fantasies (nothing explicit)

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | A little bit of a slower part, but Dean and Y/N get to know each other a little bit. This was originally supposed to be a part of chapter 2, but I didn’t like how long chapter 2 was and I thought this section could be its own chapter | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read Chapter 2

Walking into the motel room, there was indeed a single bed, and it didn't look like the normal motel size you were used to. It somehow looked smaller than usual, but you weren't sure if it was because you were nervous and your eyes were playing tricks on you, or it was in fact smaller.

You turned to Dean, who was still staring at the single bed. "The bed looks a little small," you said, the two of you still standing in the doorway; almost afraid to enter the gaudy room, which looked to have about fifty different shades of green.

"Guy said it was a queen," Dean commented, his voice sounding a little bit annoyed. "It's a queen my ass," he mumbled, being the first one to enter the room, leaving you to stay in the doorway. You held back a chuckle at his comment.

As he was about to place the duffel onto the bed, you closed the door behind you. "Do you have a preferred side?" He asked, the moment you turned to face him again.

"The right if that's okay," you answered, biting your bottom lip with slight hesitation at your answer. "Unless you want it." Back at yours and your boyfriend's apartment, you tended to have the left side, despite your preference for the right side as it was farther away from the door. But when he moved in, he automatically claimed the right, leaving you to endure the left.

Dean shrugged. "Left is fine with me," he said, placing his duffel bag on the left side of the bed.

There was a part of Dean that was happy that you had picked the right, as it was farther away from the door. He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself, but he strangely felt better being near the door so he would be able to protect you at a moment's notice.

He watched you walk over to the right side, placing your duffel down and unzipping it, almost matching his movements. He couldn't help but grin a bit. "Do you want to shower first or can I?" You asked.

"You can go first. Just don't use up all the hot water," he winked, before zippering up his bag and pushing it underneath the bed. At this point, he couldn't tell if his wink was flirtatious or just out of habit.

You felt your cheeks grow hot from his wink, hoping that you weren't blushing. And if you were, hoping that he didn't notice. You wanted more than anything to tell him that he could join you, but you resisted. There was no way in Hell he would say yes, as he probably looked at you like a child, or someone that he felt like he needed to protect.

But you couldn't help but wonder what his body looked like underneath the layers of clothes that he wore. You wondered what it would feel like to run your hands up and down his chest, placing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, as the water ran down both your bodies. You licked your bottom lip at the thought, again, hoping that Dean didn't notice. Your throat was dry again — you needed to get into the shower quick.

"Thanks, I'll make it quick!" You briefly smiled, before making a beeline for the bathroom.

Once he saw you enter the bathroom and shut the door, he couldn't help but notice that he didn't hear you lock the door. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled to himself, and he licked and bit his bottom lip. He was thankful that you weren't here to see him.

But the urge to open that door and join you in the shower right now was strong. All he wanted to do was run his hands along your arms and kiss your neck and bare shoulders from behind you, as the water traced every inch of your bodies. He wanted to admire the way the water hit your curves, and hear you moan against him. He was curious how you would react to his touch. Fuck, he thought. This was going to be a long few days.

He had to snap out of his fantasy, even though he didn't want to. But he needed to be realistic about the situation and dynamic between the two of you if he was going to survive the next several days. He was 37, and you were 22 — a fifteen-year difference. It wasn't a small difference by any means, and it was just big enough for people to question the relationship between the two of you if you were to ever end up together. Then again, there was no way you would actively choose to be with him, or someone like him; he had too much emotional and psychological trauma and baggage to the point that he sometimes didn't recognize himself anymore. He'd been to Hell and back (figuratively and literally) and handled all of this trauma by either drowning it with alcohol, violence, or bottling it up to the point that it nearly kills him. You didn't deserve to be around this, you deserved to be with someone that was normal — or at least normal enough.

You were young and beautiful, and barely had any scars (at least from what he could see). You'd been hunting for only a handful of years, so he figured you hadn't been emotionally traumatized as much as he had been over the years, from hunting for almost three decades. Despite being a hunter, you had more years ahead of you than he had.

As he tried to distract himself from you, his mind starting to think about what your boyfriend was like. Was he a hunter like you? Did he live with you? Was he into cars like you were? Why didn't he come to this hunt with you? But Dean knew that he was jealous of him, jealous because he had got to love you unconditionally, and touch you in ways that Dean would never be able to.

He heard the sounds of your clothes hitting the bathroom tile, the shower not even on yet. You were naked just a few feet away from him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He balled up his fist as he sat at the table, going through his dad's journal — something he hadn't done in such a long time, and tried his best to focus on the pages. But he was having more trouble concentrating than he'd like to admit, because he was too focused on what you were possibly doing in the bathroom.

Finally, the water went on, and he let out a deep breath. "This is gonna be a long few days," he mumbled to himself. Getting up from the chair, he knew that he needed some kind of distraction, because hearing you in the shower was going to be the death of him. "Hey, I'm gonna grab something from the diner down the street. Want anything?"

"Um, if they have apple pie can you get me a slice? If not, bacon cheeseburger please!" You yelled out, no hesitation in your answer whatsoever.

"Fuck me," he mumbled.

"What?" You called out again, sounding a little confused. "Dean?"

"Uh, apple pie or bacon cheeseburger, got it," he said quickly, grabbing his keys and jacket. "I'll be back in two shakes," he called out to you before opening the motel door and quickly shutting it behind him: not even waiting for you to respond to him.

As he locked the door behind him, he hesitated slightly to leave, leaning his forehead against the door gently. He didn't want to leave, that was one of the last things he had wanted, but he needed to in order to try and stop these fantasies of you. The constant wondering of what you currently looked like in the shower, the wondering if you would moan if he kissed your neck; how your soft and smooth skin would feel against the roughness of his own. Stop it, stop it, he repeated.

You barely even had time to answer him, as you heard the motel door slam shut; the sound causing you to jump a little at the suddenness. You had a couple of emotions swirling inside of you: confusion and disappointment. You were confused at the suddenness of the diner question, but you were a little disappointed that he didn't even offer to take you with once you got out of the shower. You couldn't help but wonder if you had done something to offend him in the short amount of time you had been together. No, you've barely done anything, you concluded. You wondered what his deal was, and if something had possibly triggered this reaction from him.

Once finishing up your shower, you did your usual post shower routine — nixing the brushing of your teeth, as you were moments away from devouring either a mouthwatering bacon cheeseburger that rivaled the feeling of sex, or the sweetness of apple pie.

Exiting the bathroom, you grabbed the remote off the side table, hoping that there would be something watchable at this hour besides infomercials. You didn't dislike them, but you preferred something with some substance to it.

Flipping through the channels, you repeated 'No,' a few times, after each switch, not finding anything suitable. But after a few No's in a row, a smile finally graced your lips as you saw the sweet, sweet image of one of your favorite cartoon dogs: Scooby-Doo. It was the start of one of your favorite Scooby-Doo movies too, Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island, and you couldn't help but keep it on the screen.

It was a movie you hadn't seen in such a long time, as back at home, you either had to hide watching this from your boyfriend whenever it was on, or had to skip it all together, as he felt that you shouldn't be watching cartoons at your age. You hoped that Dean wouldn't mind or make fun or you in the same way your boyfriend had did.

Pulling back up to the motel with two bacon cheeseburgers and two slices of pie in the bag next to him, he gripped the steering wheel one final time and took a deep breath. He had only been gone about twenty minutes, and twenty minutes was not enough time. But yet, it seemed like an eternity away from you that he never wanted to face again. He needed to be near you, but he needed to be far away.

He sighed, bracing himself, slightly praying that you had managed to fall asleep while he was gone so he wouldn't have to make awkward conversation with you. You had told him that you were exhausted after all.

But as he reached the motel door, he heard the television on, and he held his ear up to the door to hear what you could possibly be watching at this hour. When his ear reached the door, he chuckled quietly to himself, hearing the voice of his favorite cartoon dog. You're gonna kill me Sweetheart, he thought.

Unlocking the door, he almost had to walk right out. Son of a bitch, he said, thankful that he didn't say it out loud. You were lying on your stomach, holding your head up with your hands, swinging your feet carelessly in the air, with a long shirt on that seemed to be about two sizes too big for you. He hoped to God that you were wearing shorts or underwear underneath.

You turned to him, your smile beaming. "Welcome back," you said. "That was quick."

"Yeah, there was um...no line," he said, clearing his throat. Stop thinking about if she has underwear on, stop thinking about if she has underwear on. Stop objectifying her. "Scooby-Doo," he pointed to the screen, trying to drown out his Rated R thoughts. "Love that dog."

Your smile remained, and it appeared to get wider. "I love Scooby-Doo, and Zombie Island is one of my favorite Scooby-Doo movies," the way your voice sounded made his heart melt; you sounded so incredibly happy. "I'm glad you don't mind, because I don't get to watch this that often." Your eyes looked so sad now, and Dean felt his heart starting to break for you. Did your boyfriend not like when you watched this? He desperately wanted to ask, but knew it wasn't his place to.

"I don't mind at all. You're never too old for cartoons, or Scooby-Doo," he smiled, placing the two bags of food down on the table. "You know, Scooby-Doo is one of those things where, no matter where me, Sammy, and my dad were, it was always on. Sometimes, my dad would be gone for hours or days at a time, and Scooby and the gang and my brother were the only ones that kept me company. Made me feel less alone, even if I felt alone."

Dean's words were making your heart break, hearing about the childhood that he never had, but always wanted. You knew that what he was telling you wasn't meant to be a sad thing but, you could hear it in the way his tone sounded, and the way he smiled, as it slightly looked sad and pained.

As you watched him take the food out of the bags, you smiled with delight seeing that not only did he get bacon cheeseburgers for both of you, but he got two slices of apple pie in addition. "They had both?" You asked, promptly sitting at the table.

"Yeah. I know you said one or the other, but I thought why not get both if they had both?" Dean shrugged, separating the food out. You couldn't help but be weirdly appreciative of this gesture, as this was something that your boyfriend would have never thought to do. He would have gotten one or the other, saying that getting both would have been too much.

The only sounds that filled the air were the comedic stylings of Scooby and the Gang, the occasional laughter from either you and Dean (or both), and the sounds of the pair of you chewing the pie that often came with moaning. Despite there being no talking from either one of you, it was nice and comfortable; no awkwardness to be found. When you looked over at him, he genuinely looked happy. You weren't sure if it was because of Scooby and the Gang, the pie, or both; but it was nice to see him so happy. You didn't have a lot to compare it to, to be fair, but based on stories you had heard from Sam and from other hunters, Dean has had it rougher than most.

You had wanted to tell Dean how much you appreciated having this moment with him, because it was the kind of moment that you didn't get to have very often. But you decided against it, feeling that it would somehow make the moment awkward between the two of you.

A few moments passed, and he was the one that had broken the silence. "Mind if I ask you something?" He asked between bites.

"Sure," you answered.

"How'd you get into hunting?" He asked the dreaded question, and you felt a knot in the pit of your stomach. It was a question you've been asked several times over the years by numerous hunters, but you've always managed to re-focus the question onto them. It wasn't like you had a problem answering the question, but it was something that you had rarely talked about, as the pain of it still seemed so fresh despite it being over five years ago. Your hunting story was something that even your parents didn't know fully, and you were unsure if they would ever know.

But there was something about Dean that had made you feel safe, and made you feel like it was okay to share it with him. But your body wouldn't allow that, and you stayed frozen, almost shut down.

"Hey," Dean said, and hearing his voice made you snap out of the current state that you were in, afraid that if you were in this state any longer, it would have been much harder to reel yourself back in. "Don't sweat it okay?"

"I'm sorry," you apologized, even though you had no reason to.

"Don't be," he reassured you. "Tell me when you're ready."

You nodded back at him, slightly smiling, and feeling relieved that he didn't place any kind of pressure on you to tell. You really did appreciate Dean, even if he didn't realize it.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 4

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junowritings · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with gn crush who can't genuinely can't tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them?

Anon dear nothing but kisses thank you for the amazing request and requesting my fav Tiefs~

I'd wanted to leave the scenarios between each vague when I began this; I swear this started off small but it's now like 2am and ten pages long but here we are!

Also I've only just finished Act 2 so I may not have been too accurate with Haarlep and the others' act 3 moments but I do hope you enjoy~

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Haarlep

♡ You’ve certainly put yourself in it this time. Managing to earn the affections of an incubus like Haarlep? You’ve either done something very right, or so very very amusing.

♡ At the House of hope the lines between affection and lust have all but blurred for Haarlep long before you showed up snooping around in places you weren’t supposed to be. You aren’t the first one to be lured in and, if the place’s owner had its way, you most certainly wouldn’t be the last; but that doesn’t mean you can’t provide some worthwhile entertainment for the incubus you stumble across in Raphael’s quarters.

♡ The second you’d poked your head into the boudoir to snoop you’d caught Haarlep’s attention, if only for the fact that you most certainly shouldn’t have been poking around so brazenly. They’ve heard your name plenty of times; heard how you’ve toed the fine line of keeping Rapael on his toes at every turn without making an enemy of him - yet. You should know better than to test the limits like this - but you don’t, and that makes the thought of killing you so wasteful to Haarlep when there’s far more amusing ways to make use of you.

♡Maybe it was merely for curiosity’s sake that they allowed you to walk in and out of the place with your life and soul intact; the potential of getting to do something - or someone - fun too tempting to pass up on after wiling the days away with the same old faces. For you to come voluntarily traipsing round the corridors of Raphael’s very ‘home’? Knowing the consequences and either too brave or too foolish to heed them? Now that piques the incubus’ interest, enough that they’re willing to let you leave after they’ve had their fun. After all, they know you won’t be able to stay away for long.

♡ You keep coming back - of course you do. You’re fun to toy with - the most amusement that they’ve had in quite a while. Even with an unwanted guest squirming around in your head and time being a precious commodity when your corner of the world is on the line, you always have a penchant for coming back for more. And they are more than content to give you those reasons to keep coming back; you’ll never stray for long now that they’ve got their claws into you, of that they’re certain.

♡ Oftentimes your visits aren’t with the promise of fulfilling desires - at least not the carnal ones. Instead you make a habit of sneaking into Raphael’s boudoir just to keep them company, flashing them that mischievous grin as you stretch out onto that luxurious bed and eagerly pat the space beside you. Haarlep feigns the role of a lover well - they’ve had enough centuries to hone their craft after all. So even they know when the line between a mere amusement and something more affectionate begin to blur together when it comes to you. It's gradual, of course - those simple hours listening to you rattle away about the latest scandalous adventure as they gently card clawed fingers through your hair; watching those little twinges of content pleasure on your face as you lean into their touch almost instinctively.

♡ Haarlep is intimate by nature, always wanting to keep a hand on you at all times no matter the form that they take. Even in the most mundane circumstances you’ll find claws rubbing soft circles into your sides, a head perched upon the crook of your shoulder and warm breaths against your ear just close enough to get you to squirm or playfully push them away. If they’re feeling particularly greedy they’ll hide you away from the world within their wings, pulling your attention to focus purely on them as their tail curls loosely around your leg.

♡ The first night that you make the mistake of drifting off right there in the incubus’ arms is the day that Haarlep puts a face to the emotion that rattles awake within their chest. When was the last time they had felt such affection? Adored for merely existing? The concept of love is inherently foreign for someone like Haarlep, who has long released any such ties the moment they were contracted to be Raphael’s personal mirror in bed. And yet the feeling is relished nonetheless.

♡ Be it blind trust or mounting exhaustion that leads you to this they care not; they’re far more focused on engraving every little contour of your face to their mind, running a finger down the curve of your jaw with a pleased hum. Such a hopeless one they’ve managed to fall for - if only you knew just how much you drew them in.

♡ Haarlep knows full well that you must be a little clueless to keep willingly coming back to the incubus without thought of the potential consequences. One would mistake you for a fool, or someone who values their life so little - but you’re neither (most of the time), and it doesn’t take much for Haarlep to clock onto why that is. You’re hopeless at differentiating between platonic and romantic advances; poor thing. A better person would take pity on you, perhaps assuage your inner turmoil with a few simple words. But when the alternative is being able to get you squirm with just enough hints to keep you on your proverbial toes? Well, who could fault them for keeping you guessing?

♡ Out of all of them, Haarlep is more than happy to keep you spinning with this ‘will they won’t they’ game that they have circling around your head all of the time. Why waste a good thing with something so frivolous when they already have you right where they want you? Away from prying eyes, tucked away in their arms as they make your head spin with honeyed words and teasing remarks of your little conundrum. There’s no need to spoil the party by putting a name to the blatant feelings that lay thick in the air, is there?

♡That’s what they believe at least while they have you. But alas there’s always the inevitable departure - time is ticking on the surface world, your world. And you can’t spend all of your days in the House of Hope for them to seek out whenever they wish, though the idea becomes more and more appealing with each passing day. They're always reluctant to see you leave, hoping to tempt you back with teases and promises, all the while their hands are on your hips and his tail is back to curling around your ankle as though intent on convincing you to stay.

♡ They allow you to slip from their claws if you insist, but don’t think you won’t have eyes on you until the very second that you disappear through that portal, contemplating pulling you right back for one selfish reason or another. They have teased and pulled at your heartstrings about missing you before - a comment once said in jest to rile you up - but this time Haarlep’s the one who feels the familiar tug as they slink back to their familiar stage. There’s the ripple of shifting bones and infernal magic rippling through them as they don your form, standing before the mirror within Raphael’s quarters as they bring a hand up to affectionately caress the flesh of their - your - cheek. An imitation of the real thing, but it serves its purpose as they anticipate your return.

♡ Perhaps, they decide as they map out every inch of this reflection of you, they will wrap this little game up sooner than they thought. Better for the cat to snatch you up before a fox does, hm?

Dammon

♡ Nothing’s been easy since long before Dammon and the other Tieflings took up the journey to Baldur’s gate, hoping for a better life than the ones that they’re leaving behind. He’s had to leave a lot of things behind in pursuit of that better life - his forge and his tools, anything he couldn’t carry or risk going back for. Hells, he was limited to the clothes on his back and the essentials he’d been fortunate enough to take with him; but that was all he had left of his old life, and Dammon knows the others are the same. It’s not just material possessions either - any plans he once had about his future went up in smoke months ago, instead clinging to the hope of forging some kind of livelihood in the city when they finally arrived. Anything other than that? Any dreams of love? A partner? A family? A dream is all they’re set to remain as.

♡ Dammon’s thankful that there’s plenty of things to keep him busy. Sure the forge and tools at the grove don’t hold a candle to his setup back at his old place but it’s an excellent way to keep himself occupied whenever he finds himself getting restless and itching for the outlet of familiarity. While things remain a stalemate between the Tieflings and the druids, he passes the time helping where he can, repairing armor and weapons with what limited materials he has to make sure that no one’s going out there completely unarmed. It’s good work for now, and lets him stave off the pining, leaving the humored thoughts of kindling anything romantic with anyone for the lonely nights at his forge or tucked away in his books.

♡ That all changed once you came along of course.

♡ Your mere presence is a whirlwind of a tale in itself. Armor bashed and dented from something much larger than goblins, weapon looking as though it’s one good swing away from snapping in two. Hells, it looks like you took a tumble from a damned cliff and walked it off - a thought he admits to a few days after your first meeting. He decides it’s probably best not to ask when you laugh, patting his back with a shake of your head as you chuckle that he doesn’t know the half of it. Wherever you came from you’ve taken a hell of a beating, and yet you still look ready to take on the world as you amble over to his forge to browse his wares and introduce yourself to the tiefling.

♡ You make yourself known about the Grove, making fast friends with some and tolerable allies in others. Dammon’s firmly in the former category, and really enjoys having you around. Even if you don’t know much about smithing you humor him whenever he talks about his craft, listening with an eager ear whenever he gets that bright glint in his eye that signals he’s going to go on a tangent. Don’t mention it though - it will fluster him to the hells and back to know that you notice that kind of stuff. Not to mention you respect his space while he’s working. Dammon’s focus when his working is honed in on defining details and making each piece perfect in his own way, so it's easy to lose track of what’s going on around him when he’s bent over his forge with his newest labor of love.

♡ Maybe that’s why you’re able to catch him by surprise so often, startled out of his own reverie spotting you leaning against the beam of his makeshift workspace. You comment how amazing it is to see him so immersed in his craft - it’s inspiring, really - and that small appraisal alone has his face turning a lovely shade of copper. His work’s been praised before - it’s the highlight of his days seeing people genuinely appreciate the things he creates with his own hands. But being the one receiving such praise rather than the items he makes does something to his poor heart.

♡Dammon recognizes that he’s beginning to fall for you. It’s not something that hits him all at once, more like a gradual wave of affections that wash over him with each little greeting or rushed wave as you dart around the camp and back out again on the next adventure. It makes him feel…lighter, warmer. He’s tried to remain hopeful about what the future holds, to keep morale going in his own way; but he’s just as uncertain about it all as the others are. But having you around? Seeing the lengths that you go to - both from the issues at the Grove to the attack on the inn and the conflict at Moonrise? That kind of life that he had to push on the backburner feels feasible now - and you’re beginning to become an integral part of it at every turn.

♡ Dammon’s love language is acts of service, so you can expect him to go out of his way to do things for you to make your life easier. It starts off small; giving you discounts on anything you buy from him and little freebies he can spare whenever things aren’t so dire. Dammon always believes that you deserve more however, so eventually you can find him going out of his way to fashion whatever materials he can spare into things for you.

♡ He’s no jewel smith, but he knows his own craft well, so he’ll gift you things that he knows you’ll find useful - weapons . He’ll refuse any kind of payment you try to give him, assuring you that you deserve far more after all you’ve done as he gently presses your gold back into your palm with a warm smile, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary.

♡And yet you still wonder why the party strong-arms you into being the designated buyer whenever you stop by his forge for repairs or supplies - your lack of awareness is going to give Gale more gray hairs at this rate.

♡ The only problem with Dammon’s acts of service, is that it’s very easy to mistake these gestures as him just being a good person - which he is! You’ve seen how easily he goes out of his way to help others in a pinch. You were there when he went through all of that effort to help Karlach curb her infernal engine enough to give her the chance for closeness that she’d been deprived of for years. (after all she’d almost cracked your ribs returning the hug you’d given her to test if Dammon’s upgrade had worked.) It’s easy for you to rationalize all of his gifts as something that’s just platonic - you couldn’t hope for more, right?

♡ Dammon wishes so badly that you would.

♡Is certainly the most upfront about his crush out of all of the tieflings once he realizes that you struggle to discern any romantic intentions. Though he does worry that he’s the one misreading the situation and that you may not actually reciprocate the feelings he has for you, in the end it doesn’t stop him. He needs to get his feelings out there before they burn over - especially with what could very well be the end of the world dangling over everybody’s heads by the time you all finally reach Baldur’s gate. If he doesn’t do it now, he worries you’ll never get the chance to figure it out for yourself.

♡ He’ll call you away from your companions, asking for a moment of your time at the back of his shop. Tucked away in the far corner of his workplace, it reminds him of back at the Grove curled over his forge with you by his side watching him work with a quiet admiration. The memory gives him the confidence to reach for your hand, noting the way your eyes widen and your breath catches. You’ve fought gods and toppled cults, and yet you’re left speechless by his touch? As if the tiefling couldn’t fall for you any more.

♡ If he had his way, Dammon would give you something far better than just spilling his feelings, something more profound than just words. But he knows better, that you’re on borrowed time and a small moment whisked away in the back of his forge is all he can give you right now - with promises for a proper date and confession when you come back alive.

♡ Expect Dammon to go overboard with the gift though, because of course he won’t just leave it at words. He keeps flipping between something classic like flowers and sweet treats (maybe even craft some metalwork flowers himself?); or perhaps you’d like something more practical like a weapon or armor with custom engraving (that he absolutely put his signature on in the hopes it will remind you of him when you’re on the road.) In the end he decides to go with a combination of both, carefully tucked away somewhere safe to give to you whatever your answer may be.

Rolan

♡ The idea of a crush was, at the beginning, a laughable notion to Rolan. Back at the Grove his priority was focused on two things and two things alone - one, getting to Baldur’s gate to begin the apprenticeship he’s dreamed of for months; and two, getting Cal and Lia there with him in one piece. Anything beyond that was unimportant, at least, that’s what he told himself at the time to make the idea of leaving the Grove without the rest of them more palatable. But then of course some newcomer just had to step in during one of the bi-daily spats about it and that whole idea went up in the air along with whatever patience he may have had.

♡ You’d convinced him to stay, convinced him not to pack up and leave in just one conversation and he’d bended to your interjection just like that. Rolan still doesn’t know why he conceded, watching with furrowed brows as Lia rounded on you excited to figure out how you did that and Cal sighing in relief that the whole argument was finally over with. It doesn’t matter - soon you’ll be right back out of those gates, just another soul passing through, and you’d be gone as though you never existed in the first place.

♡ If only it was that simple, but no, you just had to stick around instead of carrying on your way. Perhaps it would have saved his heart the trouble if you hadn’t.

♡ His feelings are misplaced, mistaken for frustration watching you traipse around fixing problems he hasn’t been able to. At first it’s jealousy - another ugly feeling he won’t admit. How do you make helping people look so easy? Breathing life into the cracks that have formed between the two groups and patching them up as simply as you breathe?

♡ It doesn’t help that you stop by to see him every time, a habit that persists long after your time in the Grove. Rolan believes it’s out of pity and the wizard is ready to give you an earful about it. But the longer you stick around the more he has to come to terms with the fact that it’s nothing as malicious as that - you just enjoy coming to see him, for whatever reason. Rolan doesn’t know at what point your company becomes more than tolerable, even enjoyable - but the idea of it being anything more than that, with anyone much less you, is a far off notion.

♡ Of course he doesn’t expect to fall for someone, and he most certainly doesn’t expect it to be you. He’s a stubborn soul, who is just as reluctant to come to terms with his own feelings, much less the realization that these feelings aren’t the closely guarded secret he believed them to be.

♡ All it takes Cal makes an offhand comment once about how Rolan’s ‘complaints’ about you these days sound more like praises - that if he didn’t know any better it sounds like he actually loves having you around. And just like that Rolan very nearly chokes on the drink he was unfortunate enough to be imbibing in at the time.

♡ Him? Have feelings for YOU?! You, some wayward adventurer with a penchant for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t rightly belong out of some presumed sense of duty to this little wayward band of Tieflings? Who goes out of your way to seek out his company again and again no matter how harshly he comes off in return? Who humors his temper, grins at his sarcastic wit, and gives him that damned smile that sometimes makes the warmth in his chest feel like it’s shooting straight up to his throat threatening to spill-

♡ Oh.

♡ Oh no.

♡ The lightbulb pings simultaneously, and it's a good thing you’re not around to hear his siblings absolutely losing it over the knowledge that their brother is stuck pining over you. Not even a few weeks ago he was cussing you out over some perceived slight that was childish in hindsight, spurred on by his own feelings of helplessness. But now? You still made his blood boil, but gods if it didn’t feel like his blood burned for you now.

♡ Rolan’s way of flirting is by showing off to you. He believes that his greatest asset to impress you is his magic, and is fully prepared to use the arsenal of non-lethal spells at his disposal in an attempt to get you swooning. During the celebration at the Grove he remembers fondly the sound of your applause at his performance, your eyes alight with mirth as the sky right above your heads came alive with the results of his magic. The satisfaction of witnessing your face light up in the glow had been worth it; you’d rolled your eyes at his admittedly overdramatic bow but still grinned as your expression softened in embers of the campfire. It still has that warmth Rolan’s begun associating with you kindling in his chest, so he sets on impressing you every chance he gets, with the hope that just maybe it’ll be enough to kindle a warmth within you too.

♡ Rolan insists that he’s not outright confessing to you because surely you already know? Granted he hasn’t been the most…open, about his feelings, nor has he been very direct in his approach where others would have been bold…

♡ Oh who is he kidding - the thought of your rejection scared off any attempts to confess before this point. You’ve always been there - coming in every time there’s been mortal peril to save his life and the lives of his family again and again. It’s hard not to feel as though he’s got nothing to give every time you prove your resilience - would you even want him after you’ve seen him at his worst? He’d much rather live with the torment than know the answer to that question, even if it gnaws at him every night.

♡ Before you ask, yes there’s a betting pool on who’s going to confess first. What began as an inside joke spread like wildfire amongst the group the second Mol caught wind of the lucrative deal. Rolan doesn’t know what’s more mortifying - the fact that his affections are blatantly obvious enough to everyone around the pair of you, or that despite all of this you’re the only one who has no idea.

♡ Someone else is going to have to break the stalemate that’s going on here and convince him to confess. Not just for your sake or Rolan’s, but because your respective groups are getting fed up with the building tension with no-one saying anything. Gods you can’t both be this dense can you?

♡ Yes. Yes you can. And no one is having a good time right now.

♡ Fortunately for the both of you, the aftermath of Moonrise is when the dam finally breaks on all of the things that Rolan’s been holding back. Loose lips sink ships, and in Rolan’s case all of the drinks he’d imbibed earlier attempting to drown his sorrows at the last light inn have eased the filter that kept his feelings at bay. It’s made him far more prone to speaking his mind, not to mention that he’s still reeling from the rush of relief at seeing his siblings alive - yet another thing he has to thank you for - so much so that he’s seeking you out before he can think otherwise.

♡ He doesn’t have to go far; you and Rolan nearly butt heads as he goes to shoot up from his seat, and though you look worse for wear still bearing the bruises and battered gear of a battle well won he watches your expression light up. All it takes is seeing you’ve come back alive, that you’ve come straight to him before you’ve even thought to patch yourself up and his resolve crumbles.

♡ Rolan’s out of his chair and in your arms before you can blink, one hand winding through your hair and the other pressed against your back to stop you from falling flat on your ass with how swift he moves as he holds you like you’ll slip right through his fingers. He swears he can hear your heart hammering against his chest, too focused to notice the twitch of his tail curled round your leg. By the time he catches himself, Rolan practically goes rigid and pulls back, enough to see your face. The tiefling takes in your wide eyes and slack jaw with a sudden jolt of clarity that fuck, you really weren’t aware of what you were to him this whole time; and now he’s gone and-

♡ He opens his mouth again - whether to take it back or blame it on the drink. But before he can there’s arms around him, and suddenly he’s back in his chair with your face pressed into the crook of his neck, and he swears he sees a flash of red on your face enough to rival his own skin. You hold him tight enough that he has to focus a little to breathe, but it’s a sacrifice he makes gladly as his ears pick up on your hurried murmurs of ‘having no idea’ and ‘can’t believe it’ as you practically corner him into his seat.

♡ The moment is broken by the swift screech of “Finally!” from somewhere in the inn, and suddenly the world’s spinning again. Rolan’s glare over your shoulder in a bid to suss out the offending party is half-hearted, lacking any real bite in lieu of having someone far more important to focus his attention on.

Zevlor

♡ Welcome to slow burn two: electric boogaloo, and in this essay I will-

♡ Zevlor has not lived an easy life, even before the fall of Elturel; you can tell he’s got more than his fair share of scars and war stories behind those deep yellow eyes, the testament of a man who fights daily to hold the pieces of his hope and faith close to his heart. He’s a weathered soul, who many have relied on and put their faith in even in spite of his own perceived shortcomings. The tieflings that he leads to safe pastures are no different; they’re all hoping to find a better life at Baldur’s gate, and all of them turn to Zevlor to lead them all there.

♡ The relief is almost palpable when you arrive through those gates, dragging Aradin and his men in behind you. You’d made short work of the goblins fighting to tear their way inside, still plucking bits of arrow and guts from the battered shell of your armor as you’d wandered into the Grove alongside the rest of your party.

♡ He has every reason to believe that you’ll simply go on your way, knowing that you’re more than capable enough to handle the threats out on the road to leave the Grove in your peripherals without a second thought. Yet you don’t; instead you’re right back into the fray, pushing between the spat between himself and Aradin without hesitation with a sharp reminder that there’s more here at stake than some squabbling about something that could have - but didn’t - happen.

♡ Zevlor isn’t proud to admit that he’d hoped you’d be useful in easing tensions in the grove between the Tieflings and the druids. You’re a neutral third party, so to speak, and though he’s sure that the druids are set on locking down the grove and kicking them out to the wilds he hopes that someone like you will be able to at least buy them all some time. When that inevitably didn’t work he’s surprised to learn you’ve set your sights on the next best thing - forget just the goblins at the gate, you’re gearing your party up to take on the source at the heart of that camp.

♡ He’d be lying if he said he didn’t admire you from the beginning, a feeling that only becomes more profound the longer you’re around. Zevlor watches you humor Mattis’ salesmanship, sees you taking the time to train the others to better defend themselves and diffusing any quarrels on the daily rounds that you insist on joining the Tiefling on. It has a visible impact on the camp’s morale, and Zevlor has to wonder if you were truly just a passing adventurer or something more divine sent to them in their hour of need when he catches you conversing with the other tieflings, bringing smiles to their faces after months of hardships.

♡Another firm member of the ‘won’t broach the blatant pining in the room’ club. Zevlor’s lived long enough to put a name to the emotions that he’s feeling, and has taken the time to process what exactly that means when it comes to his feelings for you specifically. What he feels for you runs deeper than respect, deeper than the mere admiration that he held for you at your first encounter beyond the gates.

♡You consume his thoughts every second that you’re not close to his side. Worries himself into a panic each time you leave the safety of the grove wanting to follow but kept rooted with his own duties. You’re more than capable of defending yourself as you’ve demonstrated time and time again, but gods if he doesn’t lament not being there to protect you as ardently as you do to others. It would be selfish to want such a thing, but it doesn’t stop him from craving it in the least.

♡ Out of every single being on this list, there is none more reluctant to confess to you that he’s begun to fall for you than Zevlor. He knows this affection; wishes for nothing more than to allow himself this small act of greed keeping it close and savoring the warmth it provides. But unless you say something that is as far as he is willing to dare your relationship to progress.

♡ What really stops Zevlor from confessing is himself. He firmly believes that he’s simply not worthy of you. He’s a man who has made too many mistakes, made too many choices that have led to lives lost and consequences on those around him. Surely you deserve someone unmarred by that kind of life? Who can give you love uninhibited by the guilt and ghosts of one's past that plague him on so many sleepless nights?

♡ But oh how easily you’ve got this man curled around your finger, and you don’t even know it. Now that you’ve so thoroughly poured your life into the cracks of his soul, after everything you’ve done, that selfish want kindles a fire in his heart. He’d drop to his knees and pledge you his life if it meant having you look at him with a sliver of the affection he holds for you.

♡ The closest that Zevlor’s ever gotten to confessing to you was during the after party in the Grove. It had been the first time in who knows how long that Zevlor could try to shelve his worries for the future, to allow his guard to relax for the single night of revelry that this celebration offered. A respite like this was far too welcome, and Zevlor was about as ready to fall asleep where he stood as he was to wile the hours away enjoying the revelry.

♡ And there you were, the one responsible for it all leaning up against his side, thoroughly exhausted from doing the rounds around the camp but beaming with pride. His eyes were on you the moment you pressed a hand to his shoulder, golden eyes glowing in the light of the campfire taking in your ruddy cheeks and tired grin as you sighed over how good it was to finally see him smile.

♡ Perhaps it was the longing of a sentimental old tiefling, or being half drunk on the atmosphere that seeped into every fiber of the party, but in response he’d brought a hand to cover your own. Zevlor had guided it away from his shoulder and you’d allowed him to with ease. You’d watched with curious eyes as he’d brought your hand up just enough to brush his lips across your knuckles, ghosting over bruises and scrapes with an unspoken reverence.

♡ You’d never had the chance to ask him what you’d really meant to him back then - Alfira had interjected to veer you back over to the party, eager to show you the beginnings of her next song dedicated to your feats. And by the time you’d spun around to look for him again Zevlor had all but slipped away, gone for the rest of the night.

♡ By the time you reach Baldur’s gate you’re still struggling to discern Zevlor’s feelings from that night. That’s it; no one else can wait for you to realize the obvious anymore.

♡ Someone else is going to have to step in to give you a nudge in the right direction, and not a gentle nudge either - if you’re truly struggling to see how hard Zevlor is crushing on you you’re going to need an intervention. Don’t be surprised if your traveling party is the one to bite the arrow and do it. You have no idea whether to be confused or offended when they drag you aside to break it to you and ease their suffering. Astarion is griping on about how this started off entertaining but now is downright painful to watch you two eyeballing each other and not doing anything about it. Wyll is trying to stem the migraine he gets in his attempt to really drive home that you’re not just imagining all of these romantic moments you’ve had with Zevlor. And Lae’zel is several minutes away from clocking the entire group round the heads with the hilt of her sword for wasting time.

♡ She shoulders past the other two with a biting comment about their lack of efficiency before turning her attention back onto you. Her tone is sharp but not unkind as she quips that you’re wasting breath on your own perceptions of the tiefling’s actions. What you should focus on is what you want and how to get it. Besides, even a fool would notice the way he starts at your beck and call - she’d like to believe that you’re as competent as she thinks to put the pieces together.

♡ Lae’zel’s words do the trick. They watch your brain shoot through every train of thought you’ve been battling with all at once, eyes comically large and hand clamped over your mouth in a poor attempt to mask your scream of realization as you do exactly what she says. And then the next moment you’re scrambling past your companions, a frantic command for them to meet you back at the camp before you all but trip over the pavement beneath you in your haste to seek out the former hellrider.

♡ Once you find him, Zevlor almost jumps out of his skin with how hard you barrel through the door and into his home. He’s half a mind to worry that there’s something seriously wrong, immediately rounding to close the distance between you and place his hands upon your shoulders to keep you from falling flat on your face. The questions of concern die on his tongue the moment your hand cups his face, guiding him to look at your face and thumb brushing over the ridges of his cheek in such a way his mouth runs dry.

♡ When you finally blurt out what you came here for, asking through hurried breaths if he loves you Zevlor all but freezes beneath your touch. His eyes are wide, wild with the fear that you’ve come to turn him down and fully prepared to assure you that he’ll never burden you with his feelings ever again. That is till you continue for him. All it will take is a little reassurance on your part that he has nothing to fear, that you care for him in turn, and you’ll have this poor man practically crumbling into your awaiting arms as though you’ve slipped the weight of the world from his shoulders. Give him time, hold him for a little longer, and Zevlor will gladly regale you with the feelings he’d intended to leave unsaid for the rest of his days - he’d do anything you’d ask, after all.

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star-girl69 · 1 year ago

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Cherry Blossom

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: headcanons about you and clarisse and your new adopted kid

a/n: idk inspiration strikes randomly but enjoy

Cherry Blossom - Lana Del Rey

warnings: not proofread, probs ooc clarisse but I DONT CARE I DO WHAT I WANT, swearing, mentions of violence and weapons, idk pretty chill, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

clarisse never really felt anything towards kids

sure some of them are cute

she likes her younger siblings, bc she gets a real kick out of being able to teach someone who ACTUALLY has talent

she wants a mini army of ares kids w her skill

she would DESTROY in capture the flag

but then along comes your little sibling ivy

even clarisse admits that that’s a cute kid

and you just LOVE this little baby

she has the same hair color and skin as you and yours just like omg my baby

she comes to camp when she’s like 10

bc her mortal parent has a new family and doesn’t rly want her anymore

she never really talks about it but you know that it hurts her

and then it’s like omg this adorable little baby needs a mom EYE will be her mom

clarisse is so confused as to why you love ivy so much

but you are DETERMINED

clarisse is trying to have a nice little date with you and then you walk over with ivy on your hip

she’s about to like explode

but one day you’re helping ivy get used to holding a sword and clarisse watches you from afar and she’s like OH MY GOD bc you are teaching her WRONG

so she marches over even tho she’s supposed to be doing something

“oh my god y/n y/n please i love you so much but STOP”

“what ☹️☹️”

“you are teaching her wrong just move over again i love you but MOVE OVER”

so then she teaches ivy just like the basic stances and ivy is like GOOD

you’re both impressed

but she just has a natural talent

and then all of a sudden clarisse is like oh yeah so this is my child and i would kill for her

ivy is the most spoiled camper at camp

like she always gets little baubles and things from the hephaestus kids you ask them to make and clarisse threatens them to make

you get her the BIGGEST piece of dessert every day

clarisse is a bit more bad cop tho

she’s not afraid to tell ivy to go do 20 push ups if she does smth wrong

and you’re just like “WHY ARE YOU TORTURING THE PRECIOUS BABY????”

it’s so funny bc you and clarisse will just be like tucking ivy in every night and it’s SO jarring bc clarisse is like “ok my little warrior have sweet dreams” and kissing her forehead

all of your siblings are confused but very happy!!!! ivy deserves loving parents even if they are two teenage girls

ivy is also the most popular and influential 10 year old at camp

like everyone knows her name and everyone knows to give her what she wants

there was this one day when some older camper accidentally bumped into her and bc she’s just a baby and so tiny (☹️❤️❤️) she got KNOCKED to the ground

and you’re like “OH MY GOD MY BABY”

and clarisse is like “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” about to punch the guy and then ivy starts crying bc she skinned her knee and then clarisse is like WHAT

she throws the kid to the ground and she’s like freaking out

overprotective clarisse you can never escape her

so then you’re all like running off the infirmary and ivy is FINE like you and clarisse are just insane

and then one time another younger kid was being mean to ivy and you actually had to hold clarisse back from attacking this 12 year old

ivy definitely picks up her habits from the two of you

someone pisses her off and she will just start attacking them

clarisse is trying so hard not to be proud while you tell ivy that violence is not the answer

but then clarisse is like “OH WHO CARES Y/N THAT WAS SUCH A GREAT KICK AND AN EVEN BETTER PUNCH”

“CLARISSE NO”

the ONLY two people clarisse is affectionate with are you and ivy like ivy is always climbing her like a jungle gym bc clarisse is just so strong and can like do all these crazy things w her

clarisse will literally throw her up into the air really high and catch her

ivy fucking loves it

you have a heart attack

and now they have to do it in secret 💔

you always tuck ivy in together but let’s be real most nights ivy ends up in your bed

and clarisse is all pissed off

so she ends up sneaking into your cabin and your bed every night

like just a huge tangle of limbs and blankets and ivy snores but it’s not that loud and it’s adorable

like the ONE night clarisse didn’t sneak into your bed ivy had a nightmare and you were like oh no way

bc most nights clarisse comes in at like 11pm and you’re already asleep but you know she’s there and you wake up next to her so

but you wake up to comfort ivy and you’re like WHERE THE FUCK IS CLARISSE

and then ivy realizes CLARISSE IS NOT THERE

it’s like some super dramatic scene in a movie you wrap up ivy in a blanket and come into the area cabin and start berating clarisse

“do you just hate us? bc it is ONE THIRTY THREE in the morning and you are NOT in my bed and poor ivy had a nightmare and you WERE NOT THERE”

clarisse is like looking at you like what

half of her siblings are awake and just watching this crying child you’re holding cross her arms and shake her head disapprovingly and clarisse is not even awake yet

“baby idek what you’re saying just come lay down”

“yes but we’re talking about this in the morning”

“…okay”

of course all is forgiven the next morning after a nice sleep

there was this one night you were at the campfire and then ivy just found some random person’s dagger? and she’s like

“y/n!!! clarisse!!! look what i found!!!!”

“what do you have?”

“a knife!!!!”

“NO”

like that one meme y’all know

and then you have to chase her down

clarisse gives her a very blunt sort of dagger thing to play with and ivy is very happy

it’s so weird bc clarisse is like yk being all grumpy and mean and then ivy or you walks around and she’s like AHHHHHH MY LOVES

also when percy shows up he’s so confused

like the scene where she pushes him over you walk over with ivy and then ivy literally JUMPS from your arms to clarisse’s bc she knows she’ll catch her

and then clarisse is like “omg hi my little warrior how is your day?”

“OH MY GOD I THREW A ROCK REALLY HIGH I’M SO STRONG”

you’re like “no seriously it was like 10 feet high”

“omg baby that’s so amazing i’m so proud of you”

then everyone around you is like “oh wow ivy that’s so amazing you are so strong”

bc ivy is just an adorable baby and also bc they don’t want to incur clarisse’s wrath

she don’t PLAY about ivy’s happiness

percy is ????

then clarisse is like “oh isn’t that so funny my 10 year old baby can throw a rock higher than you probably can”

PERCY IS ??????

that’s all i got y’all

in conclusion ivy is just your perfect little angel princess

and you and ivy are the lights of clarisse’s life

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family

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fumifooms · 1 year ago

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Firefly Wedding is so…

It’s so

It’s them. It’s "It’s just a firefly, they’re meant to die soon. Why should I care about the sick, or the poor?"

It’s "I was purposely trying to scare you and push you away to see how far you were willing to go with your act, how desperate you were to play with my feelings as if I was a fool, but it didn’t work."

It’s "I know you’re just using me but now I care. Please keep using me. I need you to need me."

It’s choosing to give her her freedom anyways. Because your love is no longer all about you, no longer selfish. Because this love isn’t just a shallow balm to soothe your complexes anymore.

It’s being betrayed, finally facing the lies and no longer pretending you both don’t know that this is a farce, but desperately wanting to keep it going anyways. It’s "I should hate you now. Why don’t I? Hey, tell me we’ll go through with the plan, tell me you’ll marry me after all. Otherwise, why am I still here? Why don’t I want to leave? You act like you don’t need me but I still need you."

Like that’s so revolutionary for a yandere story. The self-delusion is strong, denial that things have changed despite it being impossible to truly believe, BUT HE STAYS. It’s no longer selfish 😭😭

"I don’t care about you anymore, I won’t help you. Get yourself killed for all I care." <- Jumps to her rescue 3 milliseconds later when she almost falls down a ladder/roof. It happens twice. The ‘lying and trying to emotionally distance yourself from something to protect yourself and not get hurt’ defense mechanism is blatant and it’s failing really bad.

It’s "My sense of duty and goals to have accomplished something useful in my short life are making me do this, but I do want you to stay with me." The yandere stuff here gets turned on its head because what he says is empty where it matters and meaningful where it matters. It’s knowing that if Satoko asks him not to kill anyone he won’t, but knowing that he won’t give up on her no matter what, even if she’s unattainable, even if she’s sickly, even if she pushes him away like just before. It’s so thinly veiled for "I’m determined to see my goal through, but that’s not what I want. If you just so happen to take me away and I don’t try to run away hard enough then we can elope and be free. I want to have an excuse to leave with you. Please give up on marrying me. Please don’t. I want that, but I can’t."

It’s "If I didn’t burn brightly in my short firefly life, then what was the point?"

Except that burning brightly doesn’t have to mean making big achievements, or being useful to your family.

It can be living happily, living for the ones you love, fighting for them. It can be worth to risk it for things that actually matter to you.

It’s giving your heart to someone, figuratively and literally. To lend it to them even if it might get used or battered, for as long as it beats to use your body to protect them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself. A love that burns bright into a bonfire before they both turn to ashes. Unwise but wholehearted.

It’s despite even that, needing grandiose gestures to be able to trust that this is real. It’s needing external cues that prove it to feel safe in their love existing, other people to confirm that he’s not crazy, that this is happening and this is how they both feel. Their love has been fake, both being a warped love and being a lie, only being out of necessity or because the other was the only one willing to offer it to them, offering comfort, safety, support and care. And showing that they care is the most loving of all. It’s despite everything falling back into old habits that "Oh if she was miserably worried for me then that means she’s not indifferent to me! That’s good!" And then once again being taken aback by her, by her earnestness and by her will. Because oh, no, this goes deeper than that. She cares. It’s love.

It’s opening your heart up to love, and both being punished and rewarded for it.

But most of all it’s

And it being the most loving thing he’d ever heard

Firefly Wedding is so…

And yet it’s also

The complicated and hurtful nature of love and the joy and light it brings are two sides of the same coin, because that’s what inevitably happens when you care about something. But caring about a firefly isn’t a waste even however short lived it is, or how hard the loss will inevitably hit you. Isn’t their light just such a wonder to witness?

#hotaru no yomeiri #firefly wedding #firefly marriage #firefly wedding fandom how we feeling #Spoilers #he’s like Denji except. Worse #Lmk if i need to take out the pictures or smth #I genuinely don’t know if firefly wedding will end happily or in tragedy I AM SCARED??!#Iirc the very beginning is a letter that says how she died?? Anyways i am so fine and cool and collected #Ah yes my favorite genre dark romance that manages to become healthy somehow by the end of it <3 #Can’t believe they invented love in 2023 #It’s like seeing them slowly work through loving someone loving yourself and loving life live it’s so good #Gimme the sad af dark romance about what it means to love someone 😤

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lydiadeetzwannabee · 28 days ago

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° ❀⋆࿔ dandelion ࿔⋆❀ °

° ࿔⋆❀ summary: When your name comes up for the first time since college, Art gets hit with a tidal wave of nostalgia. He invited you over to a motel room to talk, but you both know that’s just an excuse.

° ࿔⋆ notes: fem!reader, sexual content, smut, angst

° ࿔⋆ w/c: 3325

° ࿔⋆ a/n: i love eternal sunshine deluxe and i had to get this out my head bc UGH i love dandelion but back to scheduled programming right after this

2010

Queens, New York

Art can hear the trombone player from down the street as he steps up the metal stairs. The keys jingle in his hand when he walks to his designated room. Opening it was disappointing, but he didn’t expect much from a thirty-dollar motel wedged in the corner of a highway-side inn.

The motel smells like stale cigarettes and old air conditioning. One of those places where the floral bedspread has long since given up, and the flickering neon sign outside the window buzzes just loud enough to drown out any of his overthinking.

The room was unnecessary; he’s already got a suite courtesy of the Open. But Art’s been trying to save his personal life to himself during his rise in the tennis world. It’s not that he wouldn’t want to be seen with you. God, he would. He’d take your hand right now and post it, headline it, put it on a damn billboard if you let him. But he knew you wouldn’t want to be being spotted with him. Especially after how long it’s taken for one of you to break the silence between you.

Finding you again wasn’t hard. He was in New York for the US Open and grabbed drinks with some old Stanford guys last night. One of them dropped your name in passing, mentioned you lived out here now. Art had your old number dialed into his phone before he’d even left the bar.

“Someone said you’re in Queens,” he said like it was nothing. Like it didn’t shake something loose in him. “I didn’t even know. I just— God, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Now he’s here, closing the door behind him as he stares at your “Be there in ten” text sent seven minutes ago.

“Just one night,” he had said. “I just want to talk.”

Talk. Even he doesn’t believe that. Art’s not sure what to do while he waits. He probably should’ve planned this better, spoiled you a little even though you’d hate it. But all he has is a bottle of alcohol and a fresh pack of cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke anymore—his dietitian won’t allow it—but he figures you probably never kicked the habit. There are a few condoms tucked in his wallet. Not because he expects anything. Just… wishful thinking.

It’s obvious what he wants. Obvious enough to make him forget how horrible your last encounter was. But Art’s always been an optimist when it comes to you. Stupid, stubborn hope. He’s never been able to kick that habit either.

He snaps out of his head when he hears a knock at the door, suddenly tensing. Ridiculous, honestly. He used to know you so well yet now you’re practically a stranger. His breath caught in his throat when he opened the door, eyes scanning over you. Suddenly, he was twenty again, sitting next to you in a study group. Laughing under flickering library lights. Thinking he had all the time in the world.

You look the same. But you don’t. Your eyes are still beautiful yet now they’re dimmer. Your face is sharper, older, more sure of itself. You don’t even say hello before you push past him, as if you’re already sick of having to deal with him. Like this whole thing is some errand you’ve agreed to run against your better judgment. He doesn’t take it personally. Not really. That’s always been you.

You look around the room with what he assumes is disgust, your arms crossed over your chest and your expression unreadable. You don’t sit, instead you turn to face him again. Art finally shuts the door, swallowing as he takes a step towards you. He keeps his distance, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he says. Now he can finally take the time to appreciate you. You look good. Better than he remembered, and he remembered too much. It makes him feel stupid, like he should’ve worn something different or fixed his hair again before you got there, but you always liked that style on him. Maybe still do.

Your brow raises at him before you glance at the sad bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “Then why’d you rent the room?”

Touché.

He took a breath, suddenly finding the carpet extremely interesting. “…guess I hoped you would,” he admits.

And you sigh. Sigh like this is taking up your patience like you’re above this whole thing. Like even considering meeting again was a mistake. “What do you want, Art?”

He wants a lot of things. He wants to apologize, to take back every bad thing he ever said or did. To apologize for everything he didn’t do. He wants to tell you how he’s sorry for not talking to you sooner, for the way things ended between you. That he should’ve fought for you harder.

But all that comes out of his mouth is “I missed you.”

His words hang in the air for a second, the neon sign buzz feeling ten times louder than it was.

“You missed me?” you repeat like you don’t believe it. It’s not enough.

“You find me now and suddenly you miss me? You didn’t try to find me before, Art,” you say, your voice tinged with that same disappointment that makes his heart ache.

“You disappeared.”

He sighed, knowing there was some truth in your words. He doesn’t even know why he didn’t try earlier. Maybe it was the fear that you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. But looking back, that was stupid.

“I know,” he starts. “I know. You’re right. But I—“

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” you muttered. And if it was meant to hurt him, it did. You finally move, but it’s only to push yourself off the wall, and Art’s scared that he’s losing you again. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d grown up.”

Art’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, taking a step forward. “And?”

You scan him, his face, his posture, his hands, and he swears you’re looking right through him. Like you still know him, whether you want to or not.

“Why are we wasting time?” you say, low and dangerous.

He paused. Not because he didn’t know what you meant, but because he did.

And maybe it’s stupid. Reckless. Idiotic. Maybe it’s the worst idea either of you has had in years. Maybe ignoring your problems until they come to fruition is unwise.

But you’re here.

He’s here.

And those unspoken words between you simmer with tension, hot and heavy and aching to be touched.

He doesn’t realize how he’s stepping closer until he stops right in front of you, his chest almost brushing against yours. “We don’t have to.”

You hum, your hands moving to unbutton your coat, and he simply washes. His eyes are longing, yearning, unsure if he’s allowed to touch you. Your coat hits the floor with a soft thud, and Art swears time slows down. It’s not just the way you look, it’s the weight behind it. The tension that coils tighter in his chest with every breath. This isn’t casual. This isn’t mindless. This is everything he’s tried to suppress and forget and move on from, standing just inches in front of him, calling his bluff.

“You still do that,” you murmur.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like I’m going to disappear.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. He never has. So instead, he kisses you.

His eyelids flutter at the familiarity, his lips carefully moving against yours, like he’s afraid that if he does a single thing you don’t like, you’ll pull away. But instead, you push harder, your tongue slipping between his lips. You kiss him like you’re angry, like you want to hurt him for what he did to you. He kisses you back with everything he can’t say, hands cupping your face, your waist, anything he can touch to prove to himself you’re real.

Your hands press against his chest, feeling him through his sweater. He moans against your mouth before you tug the hem of it. He helps you pull it off, breaking the kiss for a split second before meeting your lips again. He tries to keep kissing you when you trail down to his jaw, his head tilting to make space for you. You kiss down his neck like you remember the map of him, and maybe you do. His hands slide under your top, fingertips grazing the skin of your back, and you don’t stop him.

He gently tugs your hair to lead you back to his lips. It’s messy. Urgent. He backs you toward the bed like instinct, and your bodies move in sync the way they used to, like no time has passed at all. His body covers yours as he settles in between your legs. He leans down, placing wet kisses along your neck while his hands palm your thighs. His hips rock against you, trying to elicit those soft sounds from your lips as he rubs his clothed erection against your center.

Your eyes close at the feeling, a soft moan escaping your parted lips. Your legs wrap around his waist and it only encourages Art to move faster, press against you harder. His hands roam across your body, fingers slipping under your top to push it up just enough to reveal your bra. His eyes focus on your chest before looking back at you with dark eyes, waiting for permission.

You give him a slight nod and he doesn’t hold back. Art’s taking off your shirt and tossing it to the side before you could change your mind. His fingers deftly unclasp your garment, slowly pulling it off. He kisses the hollow of your throat, your collarbone, your shoulder, his lips grazing skin like it’s sacred.

His mouth wraps around your nipple with a soft hum and it makes your breath hitch. His tongue’s circling the bud, nipping now and then to make you gasp before kissing and sucking it better. He touches you like he’s rediscovering something precious, fingers memorizing your rhythm, coaxing every sound out of you until your back arches and your hands grip his shoulders.

His lips continue their actions with your other nipple as he feels down your stomach, his hand slipping under your waistband. He groans against you when he feels your wetness soaking through your underwear. He cupped your heat, making you gasp as his middle pressed against your clothed clit, rubbing it in slow circles.

Your hand flies to tangle in his hair, tugging at his golden locks as you begin to move against his touch. He pulls back from your breast with a pop, kissing you once again. His fingers push aside your underwear, lightly tracing your entrance while you moan against him. “You’re so wet,” he muttered, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders to press you closer to him.

You whine, gripping the side of his neck, and he slips his finger into your channel. Your nails dig into his skin, lips faltering against the kiss as he begins to pump his finger before adding a second. His pace slowly picks up, and your sounds only pick up volume. He pulls back enough just to admire you, the way your face is scrunched up in pleasure, the way your eyebrows knit together, your kiss-swollen lips glistening under the motel’s dim lights. You look angelic.

He can begin to feel you squeeze around his fingers, letting out a low grunt as he moves faster to bring you to your climax. Art isn’t sure how he made it so long without this, without you, but all he knows is he can’t stay away from you anymore. How can he when you’re writhing in pleasure under him like this? Your velvet walls tighten around him, begging him to make you cum. You’re almost breaking his skin from how hard you’re scratching his shoulders, desperately trying to grip onto anything when your orgasm hits you. Your hearing goes muffled, and you swear you see stars.

Art watches you in awe, his arm almost cramping, but he doesn’t stop. His need to watch you come undone overrules any other sense.

You ride out your orgasm before falling limp against the mattress as you pant. Art’s hand slows to a stop, and he slowly pulls out of your heat, eliciting a small whine from you. He sits back on his knees, slipping his fingers into his mouth to taste you. You can feel the desire begin to pool in your stomach at the sight of him moaning at your taste and licking every last drop.

You’re still recovering from your climax when your hands reach out to unbuckle his belt. He helps you, pushing away the denim before his fingers hook into your pants, pulling them down and off. He crawls over you, staring down at you.

And God, the way you look at him.

Like you hate him. Like you want him. Like you still remember what it felt like to love him.

He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, taking a second to feel you under him, to memorize your ragged breaths and body all over again.

“God,” he muttered. “I missed you…�� Your hands tug at his sides, and he’s reaching for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out the saved condom. He tears the packet open with his teeth, going to roll the latex on his cock before your hand wraps around his wrist. He stops, watching you with attentive eyes, scared he might’ve done something wrong. You shake your head.

"No," You breathed, your eyes locked with his. "I want to feel all of you. I'm on the pill. Please, just take me."

Art hesitated for a moment, the condom still in his hand. It had been so long since he'd felt a woman bare, and the thought of your tight, naked pussy wrapped around his cock was almost too much to bear. Throwing caution to the wind, he tossed the condom aside and positioned himself at your entrance, groaning at your arousal covering his tip.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. At your nod, he gripped your hips and slowly pushed forward, feeling your slick walls parting for him. He had to pause for a moment as the head of his cock popped inside you, taking a breath to stop himself from pushing in. You gasped his name—not loud, not performative, just honest. Like it slips out of you before you can stop it.

Your back arched off the bed as he stretched you open, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "Fuck, you're so big," you gasped, your nails digging into his biceps. "Don't stop, Art."

With a grunt, Art thrust forward, burying himself in your heat in one smooth stroke. He paused, letting you adjust around his size. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, drawing him in even deeper. He could feel every inch of you, and it took all of his willpower not to cum right then and there.

He began to move, pulling nearly all the way out before moving back in. His thrusts are slow at first like he’s savoring it, like he wants this to last forever. But you dig your nails into his shoulder, silently telling him not to hold back, and he doesn’t. He slowly begins to set a hard and fast pace. The room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans of pleasure.

The headboard creaks. The neon motel sign flickers outside. Somewhere on the street, the trombone is still playing. You whisper something that sounds like don’t stop. Or maybe it’s don’t leave. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t ask.

He just gives you everything. He can feel you start to tighten around him already, your body tensing as you climb closer to your peak. He leaned down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, swallowing your combined moans. He moves with purpose, needing you to feel every inch of him, like he’s trying to apologize with the way his body moves against yours. One hand slides beneath the small of your back to hold you closer, deeper. All that matters is this. The heat, the sweat, the way your name leaves his lips like a confession. Like a prayer. You dig your nails into his back. He pulls away from the kiss to groan into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm close," he panted against your mouth. "I want to feel you cum on my cock. Let go for me, baby. I got you."

His words push you over the edge. Your head fell back, your climax hitting you in waves—slow at first, then all at once. He follows soon after, burying his face into your shoulder, muttering a choked “fuck” that sounds too raw to be casual. You could feel him painting your pussy white as he filled you with spurt after spurt of his cum.

It felt like forever before your climax passed and you both relaxed. Your eyes close at his weight on top of you, your arms wrapping around him.

You don’t speak for a long time. The room is hot now, heavier with silence than it was before. The sweat on your skin cools under the hum of the air conditioner, and Art’s hand rests against your hip like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he moves. The silence between you isn’t awkward. It’s... thick. Like something is sitting between you—years, mistakes, words unsaid—and now it’s all right there, hanging in the air.

He moves first, rolling onto his back before pulling you against his side. You don’t protest, your head nuzzles into his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse, quieter than before.

You nod. “Yeah.”

But then your eyes flick away. And that’s all it takes for him to know you’re not. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again,” he says. “…I should’ve tried harder, baby. Said more. Did more.”

You swallow hard. “You didn’t say anything. That’s what hurt the most.”

He flinches. “I know.”

Your fingers toy with the edge of the sheet, suddenly nervous. Like everything that just happened could fall apart if either of you breathed too loudly.

“I thought maybe,” you say slowly, “after Stanford... I dunno. I thought we were doing more than just having fun.”

“We weren’t just having fun,” he says immediately, his hand idly squeezing out the knots on your shoulders. “You were the only thing that felt real.”

You meet his eyes again. There’s something broken in them. Something yours.

“Then why’d you have to end it like that?”

He hesitates, averting your eyes to watch his hand knead your skin. “Because I was scared. And stupid. And…” He sighed, meeting your eyes again. “I thought I might’ve ruined it if I had you for too long.”

You’re quiet.

After a beat, “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to disappear then show up years later like this and pretend it didn’t matter.

“I’m not pretending,” he says. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

That lands hard. You feel it in your chest, in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he adds. “I know I don’t deserve to. I just... I wanted you to know. I never forgot you. And if this— if tonight was just one night, then... thank you. For giving me that.”

You stare at him. And you hate how much he still means to you. You reach over, fingers brushing his hand. He laces his with yours without hesitation. You rest your head against his chest. He doesn’t know if you’ll stay. He doesn’t ask.

For now, you’re here.

And that’s more than he deserves.

#les writes ⋆ ₊ ⊹#art donaldson #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson headcanons #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you #challengers #challengers fanfic #smut #angst #idk what else to tag #lololol

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vertumnanaturalis · 4 months ago

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Ok so originally I was gonna make one post with a whole ton of them together but uh. it got too big. So instead take some headcanons to match my design for Councilor Besk

God tumblr is going to ruin the quality of this

Councilor Besk

Birthday: Early Quiet Age: would have been 36 on New Year's Day the year the game starts, turning 37 shortly after

"The adults only talk about Councilor Besk in hushed whispers and and melancholic, well-practiced platitudes nowadays, never letting the topic linger before pushing it on to something else."

(Spoilers for late game content below)

Besk died almost exactly four years before the ship reached Vertumna, a few weeks past the 16th anniversary of it's launch, and, tragically, the day before her 37th birthday.

When Besk first signed up to have a child in the third age bracket, almost everyone arround her assumed she was intended to be a surrogate mother for a child that would be raised in the creche, but nobody ever actually asked her; When she later asked Eudicot and Seeq about having twins, she told them that she never said that, and the two were flustered enough in the moment to agree to her request without fully going over it with the whole council

The reason people assumed that was because Instance assumed that, and the reason Instance assumed that was because she had been the one to suggest Besk carry a child - with Besk thinking that Instance wanted a child with her.

No, it did not go well when they cleared this up.

Yes, this is why Besk wanted twins.

She had a few friends earlier on in the Stratospheric's journey, but those relationships quickly deteriorated, either from the imbalence of Besk's role as only councilor, or from her habit of self isolation to deal with her own issues

Anne thought that they were friends, and they sort of were for a brief period when Kom was young but before Besk had her twins, and they had a friendly-but-not-friends relationship before leaving Earth, bonding with other troubled teenagers over a pilfered bottle of whiskey; Bernie was another kinda-sorta-not-really friend of hers getting on the ship and briefly becoming actual friends before drifting apart as she withdrew into her depression

She was always kind of short for her age and was never very tall as an adult, but a lot of the gen 2 adults have a skewed memory of how tall Besk actually was, either remembering her as a small teenager back on Earth, or an average-to-tall adult as councilor on the ship. Tangent unfortunately got her short queen genetics, and even before her gene therapy was destined to be short, but the combo of the two makes her look like an Especially Small Arabesque in their eyes

She also has the same brown-black eyes as Tang rather than the blue-black ones her brother has

Her office and quarters had faux-window monitors in them, something that most rooms had at launch but were considered gaudy and mostly broken down for parts, she had the last ones in operation by the time Sol was old enough to notice them. Most of them were recycled after her death, but one of the larger ones was left in her old office out of a sense of guilt by one of the engineers tasks to break it down.

Said old office was turned into an extra storage room, as nobody was able to properally work in there after her death, and even years later the researchers of the Heliopause found the room uncomfortable to be in for too long

In general she was just very into old tech, like I picture her old communicator being like somebody today going around using a walkie-talkie in their day to day life just because they think it's neat.

The genetics that give her the iridescent sheen to her hair and the genetics that give her the "dark on top but light near the neck" aren't directly connected, and happened to only pass down one to either of her kids by chance; Dys inherited the gene for blue-purple structural iridescence, while Tang inherited the one responsible for the pale underside; the gene that gives her the non-iridescent purple hair was also from Besk, the matte one being recessive to the iridescent one.

Not technically a Besk trivia but related to the above section, but by pure happenstance the donor picked for Dys also happened to be a carrier of the matte purple hair gene, in turn making Dys himself a recessive carrier of it but not through his mother.

God I am probably missing random details and things I meant to add on here but it's already like four times as long as my wip attempts for other unseen parent designs so I'm cutting myself off here

#i was a teenage exocolonist #iwatex #my art #my headcanons #my sweet beloved Arabesque. like 87% of the games late stage problems are because of you and thats ok because I love womens wrongs #very hinged queen out here having a second baby as a piece of her very hinged yuri divorce #Anyways happy New Years everybody lmao #uh. ignore that for some reason half of these bulletpoints attempted to duplicate themselves before I noticed. whoopsie #god I hope I didn't accidentally delete something not duplicated

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rieamena · 9 months ago

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three and five

ken sato—

wc: 1.6k contains: afab reader, smut, fluff, lots of kisses, petnames (reader uses fem!aligned ones), breeding kink, mating press, multiple positions, both you and kenji being whipped for each other, marriage of 8 years, you have kids together (6 year old twins), you call ken daddy once (im sorry) author's note: first smut was ken sato, second was billy kid, this time its ken sato again and i will say that what they say is true. the third time is really the charm. idk what possessed me while i was writing this but i wanna say a big thank you to whatever did nsfw ,, mdni

"oh, my beautiful wife~" kenji sings, plopping down next to you on the couch, head finding immediate comfort in your warm, plush thighs. this is how days spent without the kids usually went, your special set of twins spent the day (and night) at ami's, playing and complaining about homework with chiho, leaving you and your husband of eight years to unwind and spend some alone time together. "yes, my lovely husband?" a hand raked through his hair, massaging his scalp. ken lifted your unoccupied hand, pressing a kiss to it before using it to cover his eyes, the entire action painfully slow. from kenji's point of view, you're more than an angel on earth, you're his faith, his belief. words cannot express how grateful he is to you for choosing him—for staying with him— despite all the challenges

"i love you." three short words that held all the meaning in the world. your husband made it a habit to tell them to you everyday without fail. like that night five months after you moved in together when he was dealing with yet another kaiju attack. he rushed out of the house, powering up into ultraman, but he didn't forget to stop by the window where you watched on. how could he? ken pointed at himself, then formed a heart with his hands, before finally pointing at you. even though his body physically looked different, and you couldn't see his pretty, expressive face, you knew with every fiber in your body that he was grinning widely. or that time when he woke up at 11:58 pm and shook you awake for a minute to tell you that he loved you one more time just before the clock hit twelve. but despite all of that, all of those i love yous, this one felt different. "i love you so much." at this rate, you were starting to get suspicious. when you tried to remove your hand, ken held it against his eyes firmly

"are you crying, or just embarrassed?" "can you say it back." "i love you too, ken sato." "i love you more, mrs. sato."

kenji's face was now pressed against your stomach as you rubbed circles into his back. a series of mmphs were heard along with the vibrations of your tummy. "sweetheart, i can't hear you." "right," ken said as he pulled himself away, pecking your stomach goodbye, "i was just saying how i read an article that said three is a really good number. things that come in three are easier to remember," you felt ken's head rest between the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you habitually brought your hand to his hair. "and five is also a nice number," he continued, "it's nice to look at in terms of objects, and it's clear to see if something's missing, and—" "i have a feeling this is no longer about numbers." you cut him off, looking deeply into his eyes

"our babies could use another sibling, no? i'll go with whatever decision you make, angel. do you want another baby?" "maybe…" "can i… fill you up?" "always."

"i'm gonna give us another one," kenji mutters against the back of your thigh, his thin hands pushing them to your chest, "don't waste a drop, okay?" you nod your head feverishly, gasping when his length settled into your dripping cunt. "oh f-fuck…" he moans, not only gripping tightly onto your body but also to his sanity, "you-you're so good, 's been too long, baby." you and ken have barely been able to have sex for six years, dealing with the combined stress of two children. and the last time you two did try something, you both ended up passing out less than halfway through. "can't believe i forgot how good your dick is," you mewled, feeling like it was your first time with kenji all over again. at the sound of that, ken began to move his hips, sliding in and out of you painfully slowly. "i'll make sure that never happens again, doll." a few movements passed before you felt a liquid filling you up. "ken," your hand met his face, bringing it up to look at you, his eyes shrouded in embarrassment as he came so quickly, "the more times you cum inside, the better, okay?" sharp dark eyes met yours, and ken shook his head, breathily chuckling, "you're really something, y'know that?" the sudden snap of his hips against your thighs made your body jolt. his face flushed a slight pink, deepening intensely when he heard your moans and giggles of pleasure

god, he loved you. you and your cunt that never failed to suck him so good, those gummy walls that always squelched and spasmed at the right time, pleading for it to be painted white. his hand trailed to your sensitive clit, prodding it with his thumb, harshly rubbing circles into it. "w-wait—" you gasped, feeling his length leave and enter you with a newfound quickness. "kenj—ah! oh f-fuck, baby, i'm gonna—" your moans got obnoxiously loud as he pounded into you, cock getting impossibly harder as he listened to your sweet voice call out his name so lewdly. "gonna cum?" "mmm! feels s-so good. you're—mmm, yeah, just like that…, made for m-me, ken…" it was embarrassing how cute kenji found you, your brain used up all of its power to make coherent sentences just for it all to be about him and how good his cock made you feel. "this is also made for you." he breathed raggedly, moaning your name uncontrollably as he felt his seed escape his slit and settle into your welcoming walls. at the same moment, you clenched around him, sucking him in even tighter than before, legs shaking and chest heaving. kenji looked down at your state, rubbing hands over your body to bring you down. to ken, you're always the prettiest girl, especially at your post-orgasm state. "you're makin' it so hard to not destroy you right now." it was so light, ken could barely hear it: "please destroy me. make me carry more of your babies. kenji, breed me."

throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, kenji pulled out briefly, just to slap himself against your entrance and slide right back into you, dick already missing the warmth of being buried inside of you. one hand held your leg in place, the other was stationed at your waist, its grip so tight, it—amongst other places—would without a doubt be bruised by the morning. suckling on your chest, ken pulled and pushed out of you slowly, in order to not overstimulate you too much, but a single tear fell from your eyes and that was all he needed. "fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK KENJI—" your string of curses could be heard throughout the neighborhood. you've been pounded by ken before but never like this. it couldn't be called fucking, no, he was making love to you. he took your body into his like a carnal desire. his tip was hitting places you didn't even know you had, making tears well up in your eyes and fall seconds later

"stop that baby, i'm supposed to be the one pleasuring you." ken said in between soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and lips, moving the hand you snaked to your sensitive bud. lacing his fingers with yours, kenji felt his mind go blank, feeling your walls adjust to remember his dick. he was moving, not only because he wanted to but because he felt like he had to. if he stopped even for a second, he might go insane. "mmm-more, please, i nee-need m-more…," you squeezed his hand nearly at the same time your pussy clenched around him. "fuck, angel, ah–! 'm gonna, 'm gonna, 'm so close… please pleaseplease…" he begged for you, thighs shaking and spasming as he heard your voice say those sweet five words, "give it to me, daddy." ken's vision went white, matching your walls. as he reluctantly pulled out of you, he closed his eyes, relying on his sense of touch to soothe him. he felt all over your body, his touch like fire against your skin. nimble fingers teasing over your shoulders, then breasts, waist, hips, and thighs. he even lifted you up slightly to get a feel of your ass. a warm liquid dribbled out of your core and onto kenji's thigh, your mind was unbelievably hazy, barely registering how your own body betrayed you

"kennn, come back to me," you whined, caressing his bicep with your hand as if to coax him out of his trance, "it was jus' too much, i couldn't keep it all in. 'm sorry…"

"i told you not to waste any of it." ken spoke against the shell of your ear, "guess i'll just have to give you more then," his voice was cracking, and you could hear his small whimpers and moans escape as he talked to you, "how many more loads do you want, love?" his thick and veiny cock rested atop your tummy, deathly overstimulated yet begging for more. he wanted nothing more in that moment than to fully submit himself to you; he was yours and yours alone. weakly holding up a finger, you looked away embarrassedly causing your husband to laugh, "one? nah, i'll give you three. it's a special number, remember? our special number…" he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, thrusting back into you sharply, practically pushing his cum out of your fucked out pussy, long forgetting the sanity that he tried so hard to grasp onto

"get ready princess, we'll have another little one to take care of very soon."

divider by @/cafekitsune

ken sato taglist

@mochminnie @despacito-uwu16 @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot

@reit0o @heavenlyraindrops @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz

@rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie

@shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes

@phantomface @spencerrxids @moonjellyfishie @optimisticladysalad @tsumimimi

@purplegobrrrrrr @sillybillyp9 @cyberpsiko @swaggyv1v1 @l-charl

@miffysoo @aise-30 @bakugouswaif @rinaizha @goodomenslover20

@biderman-666 @jaowiwh-blog @lazulihrts @meloncreme @woahhajime

@theboredhooman @pr0bablyr0se @jinshikinoku @sxftiebee @your-left-sock

@teyamswifeyy

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millylotus · 2 months ago

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I seem to have been hit with a-ah bout of crackship inspiration~? indoctrinated mayhaps even,

@tired-all-the-time22 recent Study Troubles (Val/Danny/Dash) fanart has opened my eyes to the potential of Valerie x Dash... I can't stop thinking about them I don't even think they have a ship name yet which like more for me!

Like like like just sit there and think of the dynamic(s)!

Popular Boy x Popular Girl, it gets toxic the moment her dad loses his job & she realizes how much of a bitch he was, and he still has some feelings for her but is decidedly pushing those aside.

Maybe a little later Val's kinda pulled herself together, & Dash has unknowingly been avoiding dating anyone since her. And Dash sees her happy & confident like she used to be and he's just obsessed again and can't get her out of his head. And yeah Val can see that he's still cute but by god can't she get over this pathetic excuse of a guy!

Val: *punching pillow staring at old photos remembering how he'd hold her like she was precious que muffled pillow screams* AAAAAAAAH Wes [they're childhood friends to me alright]: *at her desk with concern* do you want me to take all that "Dumb Bear" stuff away or Val: No! I am perfectly fine! I can handle myself *glaring at the teddy bear Dash gave her on their fifth date but unable to even punch it fully* Val: God why are you still cute!

Dash would gang up on Danny for having dated Val not that long after they broke up, like:

Dash: Who does he think he is trying to date my girl?!?! Kwan: You and Val have been broken up for a minute man Dash: He's a fucking DWEEB!!! WHY WOULD SHE DATE HIM and not like one of the other jocks??? Kwan: *smirking* Maybe you're the odd one out & she knows what she likes now Dash: I'm gonna punch you.

Val would definitely tell him off for it though, cause she cares about Danny & breaking it off with him was to protect him. And Dash sees that this might be a way to get back in her good graces and backs off.

Phantom's D1 Hater x Phantom's #1 Loverboy too, Val nearly burning down the schools phantom club, Dash being the only one able to stop her before she catches a cas.

Val growing softer about Dash again and they slip into more couple-y mannerism again. Standing close, maybe holding hands, Dash giving her his jacket, who knows.

But also holding back b/c she's realized how bad of a person Dash is, and now demanding he be a better person if he actually wants to be with her. Because their break-up was his fault not hers. And Dash really wants her and to be with her and he's a bit resistant to it for a bit but then he meets Phantom once and asks how he's supposed to win over a girls heart again and Phantom's just like "stop being a bitch???". So his hero just said that and the girl of his dreams has been saying that, and now he's crying in his bedroom properly reevaluating his life choices.

So Dash is trying to be a better person for Valerie, and it's hard to break habits but not messing with Fenton & his Dweebs is a good starter.

Val watching from a distance and being impressed that Dash of all people is willing to change /for her/. Does wonders for her self esteem too being wanted so much by someone that they're changing the core of themselves as a person /for her because of her!/ (her Ego knows no bounds for real).

---

Dear Jury of the Phandom I bring you the names "Teddy Hunter" or "Hunter Teddy" for this ship of Dash Baxter/Valerie Gray!

Feel free to give many more suggestions this is a community effort

#they're so honey & spice coded :)#(Val is the honey Dash is the spice Spiced Honey stealth shipname when hihihi)#Bear and Dog coded #popular girl and her football boyfriend!#valerie gray #dash baxter #teddyhunter #danny phantom #crack ship #rarepair #millywrites

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aaa-totodile · 7 days ago

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Jason Todd Headcanons (in no particular order)

1. Mainly blue eyes with hints of green but not a lot, though he has amber around his irises to signify the all-blades

2. 6’2, and subsequently taller than Bruce. I know I said 6’5 in my height post but that’s just personal preference. Canonically I think he’s 6’2

3. Perpetually looks 30-40 years old but if someone manages to get him to laugh or smile he looks all of the early 20-something years old he actually is

4. Doesn’t really listen to music after his death but before he was a fan of early 2000s hip hop/rap and 90s rock (might make a post with examples, or even a playlist) because of Catherine listening to that kind of music

5. Kinda weird but I like the whole “cat like eye-shine” headcanon, but I don’t think he’d get it from the pit. I think he’d get it from being catonic (think the fictional literal out of body look)

6. On his bad days he wishes he still had his scars to have proof of what he’s been through, to have proof that the psychological trauma that causes a physical ache in his bones is real

7. He’ll eat anything, he’s a cook and he likes good food but his time on the streets and before forced him to like anything and everything, even burnt food. Also on his bad mental days he’ll take time to go grocery shopping and make himself a good meal to feel something

8. He doesn’t mind the whole crowbar thing, it’s not what killed him. His triggers were mainly explosion (as well as loud noises) and closed spaces. He was able to essentially “get rid of” the explosion & loud noise trigger by giving himself exposure therapy (see him setting off explosions and having a bomb in his helmet and using guns which are loud and-). I still think he’s extremely claustrophobic which is why I love when fic authors mention it. He also doesn’t like constant noises like ticking/tapping/clicking/etc but it’s not as bad because he was able to drown out the timer clicking down cause he was focused on saving Sh*lia.

9. Despite his claustrophobia when he’s having a bad time either spiraling himself or he’s been dosed by fear toxin or whatever, he’ll close in on himself as much as possible. Pushing himself in a corner, curling into a ball, trying to fit in places he no longer fits cause his size (and isn’t that something, it’s another thing that bothers him)

10. He can’t die, or at least can’t die till “his time”. The universe made an error and therefore he cant die. He’s died at least two other times in my mind (once coming out of the coffin in the dirt and a second time after the batarang) and he hasn’t realized.

Common headcanons I don’t like:

1. The autopsy scar. It makes no sense for him to have one as the cause of death is obvious and they don’t typically perform them on corpses as deformed as he likely was. I also don’t think Bruce took him to anyone that would do it. It also doesn’t make sense for him to have it, if he’d gotten one, once he came out the pit. If you want a good plot device for angst: use the batarang scar idea that’s backed by a canon event!

2. The lazarus pit rage. It’s not canon and it’s used to make Jason’s own actions seem like they’re not his. They are his. It’s not his fault some of his “fans” can’t handle his authentic charming personality, ideology, and actions; and therefore make an excuse for it. I don’t mind when it’s used as a plot device in a fic, as long as it’s used well (which I’ve barely seen)

There’s more but they’re more random. Like his hobbies and habits, degrees he could have, books he likes (how he organizes his books (Dewey decimal system)), how he interacts with different people, his red hood operation, pets he’s had/has, metabolism/healing speed post pit, how he’s see the after life, how I think he’s catholic (or at least was) and the Catholic guilt that goes with it, etc.

There’s also headcanons that I don’t really love but I think are interesting or cool like him being able to see/communicate with the dead or ghosts.

#can you tell I think about him a lot?#please reblog or reply with your own #if anyone who loves him like I do sees this #I collect headcanons for him from posts on here and from fics like they’re pretty rocks #jason todd #red hood #batman #dc

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hard-core-super-star · 10 months ago

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i have to put a trigger warning to this request, im sorry if it triggers something, it was not my intention, lots of love.

heyy, may I request something like a reader who has depression and is struggling in being clean and just want to relapse in old bad habits of self harm but doesn't say anything to Kate because she doesn't want to disappoint her. but in the end Kate finds out anyway because she knows the reader like the palm of her hand and yeah, free choice for the ending!!

when it rains [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: when the threat of relapsing rears its head, kate does her best to support you...even when you try to push her away.

warnings: depressive episode; mentions of self-harm/relapsing; references to anxiety/struggles with spiraling thoughts; hurt/comfort + hopeful/happy ending; kate being nervous but supportive

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was working on the next part of vampire!kate when i got hit with a random burst of inspiration to write this request. i wrote it pretty much in one sitting so forgive me for the messiness. this is a pretty heavy topic so read at your risk and keep the warnings in mind! there aren't any super explicit descriptions of things but proceed with caution if you find this topic triggering. thank you for the request and for your patience, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

In hindsight, the signs that something was wrong were obvious.

You should have picked up on them immediately but you were too distracted by the world around you to notice what was going on inside your inner world. Realistically, there were a hundred reasons for your slip of mind and yet, the only thing you could blame was yourself.

You and your lack of focus.

You and your constant need for external factors to take away feelings you should be capable of working through on your own.

The list of habits to blame for the sudden breakdown of your mental fortitude was shockingly long, in your opinion.

You probably should have told Kate about your increasingly anxious and self-deprecating thoughts but you foolishly believed you could handle it on your own.

Plus, she was busy. Too busy to get caught up in issues she ultimately didn’t care about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself…which just made your thoughts worse.

A part of you knew the archer cared, of course she cared, she had spent the first month since you moved in with her bringing you random gifts after every night of crime fighting. It bordered on ridiculous, especially since there were only so many places to put flower vases, but it showed just how much your girlfriend cared for you. How much she thought of you.

How much she worried for you whether she was next to you or a whole city away.

It’s a thought that usually reassures you. One that reminds you of the love you have for each other.

The more your thoughts turned sour, though, the more that love turned into a weapon. It forced you to retreat, to pull away from the archer while pretending like the distance you were putting between you wasn’t killing you inside.

But being alone only made everything worse. And suddenly, the fear of disappointing Kate suffocated you every waking hour.

It didn’t make sense and yet here you are, home alone, hiding in the bathroom, and gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles had turned white a while ago. At least the uncomfortable feeling in your hands had kept you from doing something you really, really, shouldn’t do.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, frowning at the face that stares back at you. It’s hard to see anything besides the dark bags under your eyes and the exhaustion that’s so clear in every single one of your features.

A sigh leaves your lips as your mind drifts to the razors in the sink cabinet. Your hand is already so close to the cabinet door and the urge to do something you won’t be able to take back rises to the forefront of your mind.

No amount of deep breaths are able to ground you enough for your thoughts to change. Your hand moves a few inches when you suddenly hear the front door slam shut. Some of Kate’s bad habits were also your best allies in moments like this.

You move faster than you can even comprehend, turning the lock on the door and shuffling as far away from the door as you possibly can. You sit on the ground right as footsteps near the bathroom door.

“y/n?”

Her voice startles you despite how soft it sounds. There’s nothing but affection in her tone and yet alarm bells ring in your mind. You almost suffocate under the overwhelming need to run away, to hide, to disappear.

Your intentions must be obvious despite your silence since she knocks on the door once more. There’s an urgency to her movements that you can’t quite explain. It’s almost like she’s afraid of you slipping away.

The mere thought makes guilt rise up like bile in your throat.

“Love?” She tries once more, her voice uncharacteristically calm. “Can you please open the door?”

You want to do it, you really do, but your whole body feels heavier than ever. No amount of effort or inner screaming gets your limbs to move even though all you really want right now is the archer standing patiently on the other side of the door.

You really don't deserve her.

The door slams open at the exact second your thoughts grow dark once more.

The sound causes you to jump, your arms instinctively wrapping around your knees and bringing them further against your chest. Almost as if it’ll truly make you disappear so you won’t have to face the disappointment you know will be hiding in the depths of Kate’s concerned eyes.

“Sorry, I got too impatient to pick the lock,” she says, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You almost want to laugh. Only Kate could be so awkwardly charming at a time like this. Despite her charming act, it’s obvious she’s nervous and more than a little out of her depth. You’d feel bad about it if you weren’t in the same boat as her.

“Um…” Your eyes lift up from your knees to her face, silently watching while she struggles to put her thoughts into words. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?”

The answer is obvious to you and yet you still hesitate. Not because you don’t want her around but because you’re afraid of how you’ll act. Of the weird mix of frustration and desperation that make up your inner world right now.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Kate wastes no time in coming closer to you. A cynical part of you hates the way she looks at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. You know it’s unfair, especially since she’s simply concerned for your well-being, but you can’t change your thoughts. You’ve already spent most of the day trying and failing miserably.

True to her word, Kate simply sits next to you, her side barely brushing up against you. It’s enough of a reminder that she’s physically with you without her running the risk of overwhelming you with more contact than you’re ready for.

You know her just as well as she knows you, though, and your eyes zero in on her fidgeting hands. It’s almost like you can see the struggle in her motions. The aching need to reach out and touch you, to make sure you’re truly safe.

Ultimately, she doesn’t move. And neither do you.

For the first time in a long time, Kate doesn’t rush. She doesn’t question things or make one of her badly-timed but well-intentioned jokes.

She just…sits there.

Waiting.

Silently watching over you in a wordless expression of her support and love for you.

It’s more beautifully emotional than you were prepared for and you’re almost not sure what to do.

Until, eventually, you find some sense of calm. You grasp onto it quicker than your mind can even handle and finally…you’re able to move again.

It’s a subtle, almost slow, movement but Kate picks up on it pretty much instantly. You extend your arm out toward her and she gently holds the back of your hand while lifting the sleeve of your hoodie up. The audible sigh of relief she lets out makes your heart clench.

She doesn’t question you in any way but you decide to speak up. Maybe a part of you needs to hear the words out loud too.

“My other arm is clean too,” you mumble. “I…I’m still clean.”

She brings your arm up until she’s able to press soft kisses all over the inside of your wrist. “What you are is strong.”

You can’t help but scoff. The knowledge that she means well does little to soothe the disdain that’s made a home in your stomach. “That’s not true.”

The tone your voice carries startles her enough for her to change her approach. It’s not one she particularly wants to employ but she figures it’s better than arguing.

“Of course it’s true,” she responds. “I know you’ve been struggling all week, y/n. Surviving that takes more than just luck.”

Her words leave no room for arguing so all you can do is huff in response. Your obvious frustration does little to deter her and she continues to caress your wrist. You don’t miss the way she lingers over the few faded scars that remain etched into your skin.

The affection soothes you somewhat which only brings back the thoughts that had sent you down this spiral in the first place.

“I want to do more than just survive,” you whisper. “I want to live, Kate. Without feeling so…helpless all the time.”

“Babe…” She sighs.

Your body tenses up as you prepare yourself for the disappointment that is sure to follow.

Who are you to complain? The only thing standing in your way is yourself and yet you have the nerve to act like it’s the end of the world. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you can’t function like a normal person.

You expect her to verbalize your own thoughts, to prove that all your doubts were correct, that you deserve to feel this way after all. It’s an extremely unrealistic expectation considering who Kate is but you can’t stop yourself from wanting to be proven right.

To be given a reason for wanting to disappear.

There’s nothing the archer loves more than proving you wrong, though.

“y/n, surviving is a part of living,” she says, her voice soft yet more serious than you’re used to hearing her. “I know it probably doesn’t feel like that right now but pushing through is the first step to living. You just have to take it step by step…and you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, if and when you want me.”

Kate’s never been known for being particularly good at saying the right thing at the right time but today…her words seem to ease some of the weight you’ve been carrying lately. Maybe it’s not much but it’s certainly a start.

“I do want you here,” you find yourself saying. “I just…I don’t know why it feels easier to push you away.”

“Because you’re scared, darling. You don’t want me to leave so you walk away first. I do the same thing, y’know?”

You can’t help but scoff. If there’s one thing Kate doesn’t know how to do is walk away when she really should. It would be infuriating if it didn’t work out in her favor most times. Hence how she ended up as Hawkeye in the first place. “Literally when have you done that?”

“Before I met you.�� She playfully bumps your shoulder with her own. “It wasn’t exactly my charm that made me a heartbreaker.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Please, Kate, you’ve always been too oblivious to be a heartbreaker on purpose.”

“Okay, ouch. I am not oblivious.”

Instead of arguing with your stubborn girlfriend, you simply lean closer to her and rest your head on her shoulder. Her arm instantly wraps itself around you to pull you even closer.

The physical comfort helps to ground you and little by little, your bad thoughts stop looking so overwhelming. It’s a small step but it’s a step forward and with Kate by your side, the path to recovery doesn’t seem so bad.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fic #kate bishop #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld #mcu imagine #marvel fic #wlw fic #writing

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It took ten years, but Bradley finally gets to have both of his dreams. Taking you to the Hard Deck shows him how perfectly your life and his still blend together. And if you want to take a marker to his door and claim him permanently, Bradley will hand you the Sharpie.

Warnings: Fluff, smut and swears

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley still couldn't believe you were in his house waiting for him. He scooped you up in his arms and held you tight in his lap on the couch.

"You've been here for three days?" he asked, shocked that Nat had been able to play it cool while she drove him home. And now he understood that you were the something sweet that Nat had left for him. His best friend was far superior to anyone else's best friend, and he'd sing Nat's praises for the rest of his life.

"Yes," you confirmed, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek, "I've been here for three days, all thanks to Natasha. She promised me you wouldn't mind."

"Mind? Baby, you can stay forever. I want you to. I'm just kind of shocked you've been sleeping in my bed without me."

You smiled at him and straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Are you sure you want me here? Your house is immaculate."

When your lips met his jaw, Bradley softly said, "No, you're a slob. This is never going to work." But his hands were sliding up your bare thighs and under your dress. "You can mess the place up, I don't care, Sugar. Now are you going to tell me more about the schools?"

You settled against him, kissing him between sentences as you played with his hair and told him everything. "The labs at Miami were incredible. And my office would have been huge, but there was one huge drawback."

"What's that?" he asked, rubbing the soft skin of your legs.

"You don't live there." Your face was calm, and a soft smile was touching your lips, but Bradley let his head rest on the back of the couch."Sugar, you can't make this decision for me," he whispered, and your fingers tightened in his hair.

"Listen to me, Beer Boy," you scolded, and Bradley couldn't help but imagine that this was your lecturing voice. "I didn't make you part of my future plans when we graduated together, and I regretted it. I'm not going to do that again. There's nothing Miami could have offered me that can compete with being in San Diego, working at a great university, and getting to be with you. I went to visit Miami just like I promised you I would, but I made up my mind about us before you left Virginia after the reunion. So you're just going to have to get over the fact that you made my decision easier, not harder."

Bradley just looked at your determined features and squared shoulders. "You really liked San Diego State? And you think you'll be happy there?"

"I loved it, Bradley. And I already accepted the position, so get used to me being here."

He knew he was grinning like an idiot while you pushed his hair away from his forehead with your soft touch. "Did you visit the study rooms yet?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed next to his ear. "They are very nice."

Bradley closed his eyes as your lips found his Adam's apple. "So you got a little solo action in the library then?" he asked with a smile.

"No. I was waiting to go back with you. The doors have locks, and the lighting is adjustable. Ten out of ten. I would love to take you there."

When you repositioned yourself so you were straddling his right thigh, Bradley groaned softly. You were running your fingers along all of the insignia pins on his uniform shirt, and he could feel your warm core pressed snug up against his leg. You started rocking your hips against him slowly, and Bradley hiked up your dress to find you skipped underwear. "Feel good, Sugar?" he groaned.

But now you were tracing his nametag with your fingertip. "Bradshaw," you muttered. "Hmm, I never pictured myself as a uniform chaser, but here we are, Beer Boy. You look good in this."

He held your hips in his big hands as you circled them a little faster. The sight of your pretty pussy already making his khakis wet had his full attention. Every time your knee nudged his erection, he wanted to be inside you, but he'd wait until you were done with his leg. Because he'd been thinking about this so frequently at night while he was deployed. He thought about taking you in every position. His mind had covered all the bases while he looked at his Sugar photo folder and jerked off.

You moaned and kissed him, your fingers gently dipping into his collar and withdrawing his dog tags. "Oh, yes," you hissed, grinding down harder on him. "Definitely loving the uniform."

Bradley wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and devoured your mouth as you got close. "If you're a good Sugar, you can mess up my dress blues and dress whites later."

"Oh god," you moaned, fisting his dog tags and pulling him so he was kissing you as you came.

He could feel the warm wetness through his khakis as your movements slowed and your kisses became languid. As your lips dragged across his mustache, Bradley stood with you in his arms. "Can I take you to bed? Our bed?"

You moaned and nodded as he guided you to the bedroom. "Our bed. Because I live with my boyfriend now," you whispered with a little smirk, running your fingers over the wet spot on his pants.

"I missed you," Bradley promised when he had you sprawled out on the bed.

You nodded at him, running your thumb along his mustache. "Yeah, deployments are going to suck, Beer Boy."

But he just shook his head. "No. I missed you for ten years. The deployments will be easy. You'll be here when I come home. And I'll love you the whole time."

Your eyes closed at his words, and Bradley kissed every inch of your face. Then he pulled your dress up high enough to get his lips on your tattoos. "I love you, Sugar."

Eventually you got his zipper down, and Bradley was fucking you while you were both clothed. Your fingers were wrapped around his dog tags as he leaned down to taste your mouth. You held him close by the chain, but Bradley didn't want to be anywhere else.

"I want you." The desperate gasp against his lips as you pulsed around him made him dizzy. "I love you."

"I'm all yours, baby," he promised, slowing his strokes as you clenched harder. "You're so good."

You bit your lip and tipped your head back, looking like the vision of his fantasies since college came to life once more. When your back arched off the bed, Bradley took you hard by the hips and bottomed out, holding your tight pussy around him as your gasps got louder.

"Feels so good," you whimpered, fluttering around his cock buried deep inside you. When your fingers started to tremble on his dog tags, releasing the chain and going for his hair instead, Bradley started fucking you again. You came with his name all over your lips, and Bradley watched his tags hit your neck and chin as you squeezed his release from him.

"God damn," Bradley moaned when your lips parted, and you took his dog tags gently between your teeth as he filled you up. You were still moaning softly, your hands warm against his biceps and forearms. "God damn, Sugar."

He snuggled up with you, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy, and he looked at your sated expression as his tags rested on your slightly parted lips.

"I got both of my dreams," he whispered, running his fingers along your cheek as you turned toward him. "Finally."

-----------------------------

You fell asleep with Bradley's dick inside you. That's just how right he felt. That's just how happy being with him in San Diego made you.

He had been talking about taking you to his favorite beach and all the best restaurants. He was waxing poetic about a pizza place that kind of reminded him of the one he liked at UVA when your eyes drifted closed. The last thing you remembered was the prickle of his mustache against your temple as you sighed into a blissful nap.

When you woke up with the afternoon sun on your face, you sat up in bed alone. You could hear the distant sound of the washing machine running, and when you went into the living room, Bradley was folding and sorting his laundry, along with the things you'd left in the dryer, in just his khaki uniform pants.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, and he was instantly off the couch and wrapping his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his bare chest and kissed him. "I could easily get used to this."

Bradley chuckled. "You made out a lot better in this deal. I have a new roommate who is a slob."

You glared up at him, but he was smiling brightly. "Come here, let me show you what I did," he said, taking you by the hand and leading you into his office. The desk was empty except for your purple notebook, a single black sharpie and the Navy desk lamp. "You can have the office. You'll need it for correcting exams and lesson plans and whatever else you'll be doing that I won't be able to understand."

You picked up the sharpie and turned to look at him. "Am I allowed to write on the door?" All of Bradley's doors were white, including his front door.

"You can do anything you want, Sugar. And when your boxes arrive, you can have half the closet in the bedroom. And you can use as much of the bathroom counter as you need." You hugged his naked torso as he said, "Nat wants us to go to the bar tonight."

"We can go," you whispered as he rubbed your back. "I love Nat. I'm going to steal your best friend."

"I'm telling you, she's usually terrible. You'll change your mind soon." He dug in his pocket and handed you a keyring. "This is for you, too. A house key."

You took it in your hand, and turned it over. It was a beer bottle opener that said I LOVE CHICAGO and had one key on it. "Where did you get this?" you asked with a smile.

He shrugged and kissed your forehead. "I found it at a flea market ages ago. It made me smile. It's been living in the kitchen drawer."

"You really missed me," you whispered, clutching the marker and the key. You felt tears in your eyes.

"I'm not going to miss you anymore. You're mine again."

--------------------------

Bradley gave you a neighborhood tour, taking you on the scenic route to the Hard Deck. Your fingers were laced through his and his Grateful Dead playlist was playing and he was so in love. Fuck, earlier this morning, he wasn't even sure where he stood with you. He thought maybe you had chosen Miami and left him floundering. But now he had a girlfriend who lived with him in the house he owned in Coronado.

He started laughing.

"What's so funny, Beer Boy?"

He kissed your knuckles as he pulled into the parking lot. "You live in San Diego now, Sugar."

"Beer Boy, you absolute dunce, I live in your bedroom now."

He laughed harder as he parked his Bronco, and then you were crawling across the seat and onto his lap. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"And you know what else?" you asked, running your fingers along his mustache and making him smile.

"What?"

You licked the side of his neck, and Bradley held you close as you whispered, "I'm taking you to visit the study rooms tomorrow."

He let his head tip back against the seat as he groaned. "You're too good to me, Sugar."

"And once I have an office, I'll take you there, too," you added, running your hand down his chest to his abs. Bradley was wearing the tropical print shirt you'd had on in the hotel room when he fucked you on the desk. He was greatly looking forward to putting it on you again tonight and fucking you next to his Navy desk lamp just like ten years ago.

"Sugar, I got plans for us. So let's get inside, get a drink, and then go back home."

You climbed out of the driver's door and asked, "What kind of plans? I thought we were going to hang out here for a while so I could meet your friends."

Bradley wrapped his arm around you and kissed your forehead. "My plans involve the desk at home and minimal clothing."

"Oh! Then yes, let's make it an early night."

Bradley was antsy to introduce you to the guys, but as he held the door open for you, letting the noise spill out into the evening air, you paused. When you pulled your phone out of your pocket, you made a surprised noise. "It's Veronica calling me back, but it's late in Virginia! Let me answer so I can tell her I'm moving in with you and get my stuff shipped out."

Bradley nodded and you kissed his cheek. "Come find me by the pool table, Sugar." He heard you answer the phone as he strolled inside and ran right into Nat at the bar.

"Well? Where is she?" Nat asked him, glancing all around. "Shit, did she remember how ugly you are when you got home and decided to move to Miami instead?"

"You're fucking hilarious, Nat. She's outside talking to her friend from UVA who is shipping her boxes out for her." Then Bradley smirked and added, "She agreed to move in with me."

Nat squeaked and threw her arms around him. "I am honestly so happy for you Bradley! You've been in love with her for longer than I've known you!" She released him and patted his chest.

He rubbed his hand through his hair and held up two fingers for Jimmy to get him two beers. "You're right. I wish you had let me know I never got over her. Maybe I could have made this reunion happen sooner."

"Nah, the timing was just right," Nat told him and he followed her to the pool table with both beers.

"Did you tell the guys she's here?" he asked, knowing he was about to get hugged several more times.

"No. I haven't told them anything," she replied, and as soon as Fanboy saw Bradley, he was cheering.

"Rooster's back!" Bradley had them all slapping his back and giving him awkward hugs, and then he had a pool cue in one hand.

"Good to see you," Hangman drawled. "Next drink is on me." Bradley was just about to thank him, when he saw Jake looking longingly across the room. "Unless I can manage to pull her. Then you're on your own, bird brain."

Bradley couldn't keep the grin off his face when he realized Jake was looking at you as you made your way inside. He couldn't blame Jake; you were gorgeous, your jeans were hugging your body, and your top made your tits look extra amazing.

You spotted Bradley and moved through the crowd with a soft smile touching your lips, and Bradley knew he was going to love you forever.

"Damn," Payback sighed, looking right where Bradley and Jake were both looking. "Anyone know who she is?"

"Never seen her before," Jake answered. "She's beautiful."

Bradley heard Coyote and Fanboy add their two cents about how they'd love to be the one to take you home, and Nat was doubled over in silent laughter next to Bradley.

"Nah," Bradley said, "she's all mine."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Bradshaw," Jake said.

"Two hundred bucks," Bradley replied, trying not to laugh.

He heard Jake agree just as you dodged around a waitress and smiled at Bradley. Then all the guys gaped in wonder as you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him.

"She's going to ship the boxes out tomorrow," you told him with a smile, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mustache. "She said she can't wait to come visit and go to the beach."

"Sounds good," Bradley said, kissing the top of your head before you released him to give Nat a hug. He turned to the guys who all looked shocked.

"What in the Twilight Zone is going on here?" Jake asked. "Since when do you have a girl?"

"Since this morning," Bradley answered with a smirk. "But we've been together for a long time. Kind of."

"That doesn't make a damn bit of sense," Jake replied, but then Bob was looking at you with a smile.

"You're Sugar, right?" he asked you quietly. "You look familiar."

"It's nice to meet you, Bob," you said with a bright smile.

"Holy shit," Fanboy muttered, and then he was smiling. "This is the famous Sugar!"

"How did this happen?" Payback asked Bradley.

"It's a long story," you told them with the kind of smile that Bradley knew would have them eating out of your hands from now on. "But I took a job at San Diego State so I could be near the love of my life."

Bradley leaned down and kissed your smiling lips before handing you one of the bottles. "Have one of the good beers, Sugar."

The evening passed in a blur of excitement, and you were never far from Bradley's side. In fact, he made sure he was touching you as much as possible even though everyone wanted to talk to you. When it was time to leave, he guided you toward the door, turning back to yell at Jake.

"You owe me two hundred bucks!"

Jake just groaned and flipped Bradley the middle finger. "I'll bring it to work."

"Why does he owe you money?" you asked, lacing your fingers with Bradley's as you stepped out into the cool, night air.

"He made an error in judgement," Bradley told you with a straight face.

When he pulled the Bronco into his driveway a few minutes later, your lips were all over him as soon as you unbuckled your seatbelt. When you both stumbled to the porch, unable to walk correctly as you were halfway in his arms, you made a big production of taking your key out.

"Allow me to unlock our front door," you said, dangling the Chicago keychain in the moonlight before opening the door. Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you led him down the hallway to the office.

But when he tried to lead you inside and over to the desk, you took his hand and kept him in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"Nothing," you replied, the light filtering down the hallway illuminating your face. "Everything is perfect."

Then Bradley's eyes caught on the office door and his lips parted in awe. You had taken the black sharpie to the pristine, white surface, the same way he had done to his bedroom door in his fraternity house so long ago. Back then, he was desperately trying to get you in his life. And repainting his door for you had been the only way he knew how to show you he was serious. Writing the nickname he had given you on his door and begging you for your phone number seemed silly now. But somehow it had worked.

So if you wanted to walk around his house, live with him, and make him this happy all the time, he didn't mind if you took a permanent marker to every surface.

"Sugar, I love you too, baby," he promised, already considering all the things you and he would do together in the future. Already thinking about how much he wanted to marry you.

With a smile, you let Bradley lead you into the room, past the door that now said SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY in your handwriting. He would never paint this door.

----------------------------

Part ten will act as an epilogue of sorts! That will be posted in a few days. Thank you for reading along with Beer Boy/Man and Sugar; I've been smitten with them since day one! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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