#i’ll keep posting these until i feel happy and complete again

[dragonfly0808]

Hiatus

So… this is a post I’ve been debating with myself these past 2/3 weeks on whether to make or not.

Some of yall may have noticed that I’ve been taking quite a few breaks from s4 and I have unfortunately just finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve hit a bit of a writing block when it comes to my Winx Club rewrite.

I’ve had a few frustrations during s4 (even though I’ve managed to keep my writing up to my own personal standards, it’s been very difficult) and- despite being halfway through the season, unlike past seasons I still have no idea what I’m going to do with s5 and it’s just been getting to me.

And now I am forced to accept that if I keep forcing myself to churn out chapters and stressing out over keeping you all waiting until I’m satisfied with every chapter, the only thing I’ll do is kill my creativity and my love for this rewrite.

I’ve been working on this rewrite for nearly 3 years and it kinda low-key shames me to say that I am officially placing it on hiatus.

To me ‘taking a break’ and ‘hiatus’ are 2 completely different things, I know I’ve taken breaks before but I always had some vague idea of when I’d return but this time… I just don’t know.

I have been working on my Original Novel and works for other fandoms that have just been filling me with inspiration in a way I haven't been able to feel with Winx Club for a bit now.

I hope I have built up enough trust over these past 3 years for you all to believe me when I say that I will be back. I am not the type to leave things unfinished, especially a story that means so much to me and that I am so very proud of and that has helped me grow so much as a writer and has helped me get through some difficult times and express certain emotions and grief in a way I never could’ve if I hadn’t dived into this 3 long years ago.

I was really hoping to post chapters for Xmas and New Years as I have past years but I just can’t- HOWEVER, on January 28th, the third anniversary of Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas, I will post… something. I don’t know if it will be a chapter or not but I will do something for the anniversary.

If you wanna know what I’ll be up to; I will be working on my Original Novel since I have finally landed on exactly what idea I want to work on. I will also be working on 2 projects, one for ATLA (Zutara post-canon self-indulgent thingy) and another one that I honestly don’t know if I’ll go through with since it’d be a pretty big project and I’m still thinking about how I’d go about it, but that I am very inspired and excited about.

So yeah, thank you all for your never ending support and- again, I WILL BE BACK, this is not an abandonment of the rewrite, it’s just me having to prioritize my mental health and protect both my love for writing and my love for the rewrite. I’ll be going through my inbox this next week and answer a bunch of stuff that I just haven’t really looked through in a while.

Thank you so much for understanding and for your support. I hope you will wait for the return of the rewrite and that maybe you will give my other projects a chance when I post them. I will be posting a lot of my inner thoughts on the rewrite and my other projects chapters + thoughts on my Ko-fi if you wanna check that out.

I wish you all Happy Holidays!

With eternal love and gratitude,

Yours Truly, Dragonfly

[fizzamess]

Keep the aroace positivity flowing (day 10):

Mom’s advice to caedsexuals:

My mom is a survivor of SA and so am I. Hence why I relate to the term caedsexuality.

I asked her to give me an idea for today’s positivity blog and she told me this:

“An unfortunate event in life is only an event, that, if seen in proportion to the time you still have here on this earth, it wouldn’t be fair to let it determine the rest of your life. Whether you’re ace because of trauma or because of some other reason, you still deserve to love and be loved (in the broadest sense of the word)”.

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Continuation to this Price's Bratty Daughter!Reader x Ghost

After a while, you start to feel some sort of attachment to him, your gaze fixating on him more often, your touches lingering... and of course he notices considering how observant he is. 

And unbeknownst to you, he feels the same. But it’s not right. He’s afraid he won’t be able to give you what you desire. Sex is one thing, and love is another. He's a broken man. And he will break you too if you ever get too close. 

So he tries to keep his distance. And he gets rougher in bed, trying to detach all his feelings from his actions. He's got you in a headlock as he relentlessly rams his thick cock into your tight sopping pussy, thinking that you’re just a spoiled brat who needs to be taught a lesson. 

And of course, he cums inside you again, releasing pearly beads of his cum in your womb, mixing with your cream and leaking out of your abused puffy pussy. 

And unbeknownst to him, you’ve stopped taking your pills for a while, thinking maybe with a baby, you could get him closer to you, receiving some sort of affection, something at least resembling love from him. 

When you announce your pregnancy, he’s kind of shocked since last time he checked, you were on the pills. But he’s also relieved, “About time...” he mumbles under his breath. 

He'd love to knock that bratty attitude out of you. Maybe you start to act more mature now that you’re pregnant. 

Also his feelings for you were unbearable as it was, and he was planning to finally confess long before you told him that you were pregnant. But he always backed out at the last second, keeping his emotions sealed off. He's not good for you, he always thought.

But now the thought of your belly swollen with his baby has made him absolutely feral and he can’t keep away from you anymore. 

Eventually, he starts to open up and be more affectionate towards you. It wouldn’t be fair to you if he was cold and distant with you in your fragile state. That's what he tries to tell himself, thinking this is not him showing his love to you, but only being considerate. 

Once Price finds out that Ghost has knocked you up, he’s furious. But then you tell your dad that you love Ghost and you wanna keep the baby, and he wouldn’t deny his baby girl her love and happiness now, would he? 

He begins to think it’s better that it’s Ghost than any of those flimsy boys who always chase you around. Eventually he gets into the idea of you two being together. 

Under one condition. You should get married. Ghost is a man who can set you straight. And especially now with a baby on the way, you will finally mature. It's basically perfect for him. 

So Ghost starts to think that he may be actually good for you, now that your dad approves. He's perfectly capable of protecting you, also putting you in your place when you act up.

That’s when finally, Simon comes around and tells you he loves you after a night of passion in which he surprisingly was gentler than before. 

“I love you.” he murmurs while panting heavily above you, sweat dripping down his forehead, strands of blonde hair sticking to his skin.

You think that you haven’t heard correctly since you’re still lost in your post-climactic haze. But as you gaze into his gorgeous brown eyes, burning love evident in them, you know that you heard right.  

“Really?” you grin, tears prickling the corner of your eyes, “Yeah. I fuckin’ love you.” “I love you too, Simon.” and he kisses you oh, so lovingly, completely in contrast to his previous kisses that were fiery and rough. 

On your wedding night, he gently removes your lingerie and lays you on the bed. Your baby bump is slightly visible and you lightly nuzzle your palm on it instinctively. 

He tenderly trails sweet open-mouthed kisses on your skin, until he reaches just above your tummy and kisses the back of your palm before removing your hand and kissing your belly, “I’ll be gentle, lovie.” he promises, voice soft and soothing as he glares into your anxious eyes and you nod. 

He makes love to you for the first time. There's no slamming into you harshly and no bruising grasp on your hips. No, he wouldn’t do that to his sweet little wife.

There's only him softly rolling his hips into you while kissing your lovely lips and tracing his rough hands across your delicate body with feather-like touches.

He's wary of your swollen belly as he splits your tight seeping cunt open on his fat cock. There's the familiar slight sting at first which quickly fades away as pleasure begins to take its place.

He gives gentle languid thrusts as you sob and mewl under him, your nails grazing up and down his muscular back and broad shoulders.

With a soft cry of his name, the burning euphoria of your orgasm rushes through your body, “Good girl. My girl. My beautiful wife.” he praises and his low growl reaches your ears as you feel the familiar warmth filling you up.

A/N: the horny brat taming ones will come back dw :)

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[giannaln4]

I Missed You

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You missed seeing Lando being happy after a race, and you couldn't wait to tell him how proud you were.  (1.4k words)

warnings: fluff, stablished relationship, a bit of mclaren slander

a/n when i tell you i loved this idea SO SO much. i’m not too sure i’m happy with how this turned out but i really hope you guys enjoy it 🩷 i apologise for posting this just before the race but it was a bit hard to get started for some reason 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The weekend in Monza was one you were hoping to forget. The tension in the air reflected not only in the team but also in the comments people were making about it, having even sports commentators and content creators question McLaren’s entire strategy to keep their fighting position in the WCC and also have a shot at the WDC. 

Lando’s demeanour immediately after getting off the car was something you would never forget, though, even if you tried. It was pretty obvious for everyone, even if he tried his hardest to never say something bad about his team and his teammate. That team was his home anyway. He had been with McLaren even before his F1 career started, and even after weekends like this one, he would never doubt he wanted to achieve great things with them.

That is probably what made it harder for him. This year they were competing not only for points and podiums but for something bigger, and after knowing what he is capable of, ending up in that position absolutely crushed him, and you hated to see him debating with himself. 

Once the weekend was finally over and you were leaving Italy, you wanted to make him feel better, telling him how great he was and how proud you were. You even shot some comments at McLaren for everything that went down, but he didn’t want to hear it; he barely wanted to talk about it, so you just dropped it. You understood him anyway, so you had to leave everything behind and just be supportive of your boyfriend.

You were hoping this weekend would be different, better, everyone was, and there was a lot of talking in the team that they would make the right decisions to keep fighting now that they had the chance. This, of course, would only mean something until they actually proved it during the race. 

Lando was in a better mood coming into this weekend; he trusted his team and he was confident they were backing him up. That was until the qualifying came. A yellow flag being pulled out by mistake during Q1 caused him to lose the opportunity to even put up a fight, and he ended up being P17. It wasn’t even his fault, but you knew he was beating himself up for that result. 

“Lando,” you called him right after he came back to the garage to watch the rest of the qualifying. He looked at you with a disappointed smile. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I know.” He pulled you into a hug, not wanting you to worry about him too much. “There’s nothing I could have done. We just have to wait and see what we can do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” you replied into his chest, rubbing small circles in his back to let him know you were there for him, no matter what. 

“We’ll see. The car felt okay, but it’s hard to overtake on this track. It’s quite a long straight.” He let out a nervous giggle as he pulled away; he didn’t sound as confident as you were hoping, but you knew he was right. “Some of it is just going to have to cross our fingers.”

There was no point in fighting him when he got like that, so you just nodded. “I’ll be crossing everything I have then.”

He went off with the rest of his team as you stayed back to watch the rest of the cars complete the qualifying. The air was starting to get tense again, and even though you knew everyone was nervous with Lando’s result, you weren’t sure if it was just your own feelings talking. But like Lando said, you were going to have to wait and see what the team could come up with, you were just hoping they would do the right thing.

Race day was finally here, and with Lewis starting from the pit lane due to a new power unit and Pierre being excluded due to fuel flow rate, Lando had been promoted to P15. Sure, it would have been better if Lando had the chance to fight for his starting position, but at least that was something. 

You could see he was still not completely confident in how the race would go, but you trusted enough for the both of you. 

Watching the race from the garage was something that always made you incredibly nervous, but especially in this position. But Lando managed to get to P12 by lap 2, and everyone was incredibly excited by his overtakes. 

As the race went on and he felt more confident with the car, he started to climb his way up to the top 10, trusting the team’s decisions with the strategy they were sticking to, and you were so glad everything was falling in place. 

The rest of the race still made you bite your nails at how nervous you were, but the bliss in the entire garage when he overtook someone was indescribable. He was driving the race of his life, and even the radios he exchanged with the team radiated that. As always, the last few laps were nervewracking, but the fact that he made it all the way to P6 and was even helping Oscar with his own race left everyone with a good taste. Not a complete terrible weekend after all. 

During the last lap, however, an unfortunate crash between Carlos and Checo pushed him to P4, meaning he gained 11 positions during the race; not that you ever doubted him, but seeing him end up there with the fastest lap after an absolute mess of the qualifying made you excited to see him. After confiming everyone was okay, you took the liberty to celebrate your boyfriend’s race.

Lando got out of the car and went to greet his team, cheers and smiles all over the place. Everyone was praising him for the incredible work he made, and his smile didn’t go away for a second the entire time. 

You knew you would still have to wait to congratulate him; he still had to do media before coming back to his room, where you were waiting for him, but seeing him so happy in the monitors made you grow impatient. 

It felt like it had been a while since you saw him so happy after a race.

After what felt like forever, you heard him come back to the garage. You stoop up from the small couch and opened the door, where you were greeded by your boyfriend. 

“Hey, you.” You said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, smile so big you could see his dimples.

“That was amazing, Lando. I knew you would do amazing, but I can’t even describe how proud I am.” 

He smiled even more at your words. He closed the distance between you when he took a few steps, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You could even feel him smiling then, and that filled your heart.

“Thank you; it was a good day,” he said when he pulled away, looking down at you with loving eyes. “I think everything worked out.” You just nodded as you admired him.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you brushed a few curls that fell on his forehead.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together the last three weeks. You saw me just before the race." To say he was confused was an understatement, and you could see it in his face.

“I mean you, this. I missed seeing you so happy and smiley. Looks good on you.”

Lando was a bit embarrassed by your confession; he thought he did a better job at hiding how much the results affected him, at least to you. It was never his intention to be so down when he was with you, but man, was he endeared by your words. “I needed this,” was all he said, and you know he was right. And it wasn’t only him; you knew the team needed this as well.

“I know, and I know you hate to hear it, but I told you.”

He let out a laugh, not a nervous one this time. “Yes, you did,” he hugged you again, much tighter as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. “Thank you for being here and supporting me, even during my bad times.” He spoke with so much sincerity. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[littlejuicebox]

Swollen

Summary: This is another addition to my multi-part Dadstarion series. Tav is heavily pregnant and craving touch from Astarion. He's such a good husband, he happily obliges... but not without making it a bit of a game, of course.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+, daddy kink, pregnancy is mentioned but I wouldn't call it a pregnancy kink... just an acknowledgement of the belly, Astarion has a foot fetish, light edging, light brat-taming, light spanking, Astarion being a tease what is new

Notes: HAPPY DADSTARION DAY! This started as a gift I was writing for @tragedybunny and took far too long for me to complete! Also, hello tumblr. My first posted piece in a while. I've finished moving and hope to get back into the swing of things here. Hope everyone has been well!

Word Count: 4K

-----

Her feet hurt, her back hurts, and she’s incredibly horny. 

The strange contrast isn’t lost upon Tav in the slightest, but the pregnancy hormones have her libido at an all time high. Seven months in with the twins, a stomach stretched almost to its limits, and yet she cannot get enough of her husband. She craves his touch, the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, the sensation of his cock splitting her open. She hears the whispers of encouragement and adoration that push her towards release in her dreams and longs for the moans of his own ecstasy as he follows her into oblivion. 

Tav is, more than ever, addicted to Astarion. Not that he seems to be complaining. 

But unfortunately for Tav, Astarion is still working in his office at this very moment. It’s midday; she has at least a few more hours until there is any opportunity to find her fix. 

After a quick shower and change into her robe, Tav convinces herself that she can be patient. Her feet are swollen, anyway, after her morning in the park with Gale — the three year old is taking a well-earned nap — so she will simply elevate them and wait for the inflammation to go down. After that, dinner preparations and putting their son to bed. And after that— finally— some well earned mommy and daddy time. 

Tav props her legs up on a pillow, closes her eyes for just a moment and… 

She is stirred awake by the feeling of strong hands gripping the soles of her feet. 

When her eyes flutter open, Astarion, appearing before her with the top buttons of his shirt undone, smiles and affectionately squeezes her feet once again. “Everything alright, little love?”

Tav hums a yes and then brushes a few strands of hair from her face as Astarion continues to massage her feet. She moves to prop herself up just slightly, aided by a few pillows behind her back. Her robe spills open, revealing swollen breasts to match her swollen stomach. Astarion blatantly admires the view, eyebrow arching with interest, as she gathers the fabric back together and tightens the belt with a sigh. 

“I must have fallen asleep for a moment,” she says, allowing her eyes to close again as she focuses on Astarion’s hands kneading the flesh of her sore soles. Gods, the magic of this man’s hands— and not a spell in sight. “Is Gale still napping?”

Astarion hums a yes in response. “We stopped early with the ledgers today — it’s Pascal’s wife’s birthday so I told him we would resume tomorrow. I was hoping to catch you two for lunch but by the looks of the kitchen you’d already eaten. So I made a quick bite for myself and then came looking for you.”

Tav groans, imagining the state of the kitchen, which she left in shambles. The maid won’t be back in until Monday morning. “I’ll clean the kitchen later, I just—“ 

“No need, love. I already tidied it. We can leave what remains for tomorrow,” Astarion cuts in before lifting her foot and placing an affectionate kiss on the outer edge. 

“For once in your life, just rest, woman. Would you like me to leave you so that you can go back to sleep?”

She shakes her head and then smiles softly. “No, I’d like for you to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Astarion chuckles, his eyes flickering across Tav’s face and then glimmering with mischief. He glances back down at her chest, now covered, and hums, his head tilting to the side. 

“Which part, darling?” He asks as he begins squeezing and massaging her calf with his long fingers. “This?” 

He continues kneading a few more times before he stops and moves to kiss Tav’s ankle. He lingers for a moment and then trails a few pecks along the side of her foot. She watches as his lips brush against her sole before he takes two toes into his mouth and sucks them lightly. He keeps his eyes trained on her face as his tongue swirls around the digits, causing her to squeal and squirm. Finally, he releases her toes with a sly smile. 

“Or that?”

“Both,” Tav responds, causing Astarion to rumble a chuckle in response. 

“You’re so needy, darling,” he teases, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips, the heat of his breath grazing against her toes. “But very well, if you insist. How could I say no to my very pregnant wife?”

His mouth his back around Tav’s foot in an instant, his tongue teasing against her toes. She gasps in response, her face flushing crimson at the… raw intensity with which he is worshiping her feet and the consistency of his gaze trained upon her face. The slickness growing between her thighs is, frankly, even more embarrassing. He’s done this before, every once and a while, but perhaps with not quite as much vigor. 

Astarion hums when he releases Tav’s toes for a second time, his lips pressing a trail of kisses against her calf as he quickly spreads her legs open. He’s soon on his stomach, his face just in front of her mound, robe expertly undone by one dexterous hand. 

He trails one hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch tingling along her flesh on his way to spread her folds and admire the wetness of her cunt. His mouth hovers not more than an inch away, lips curling up into a smug smile as he views the glistening arousal he’s coaxed from her. His breath brushes against her clit. So close, and yet so far. 

And entirely purposeful. 

Tav attempts to reach down between her own legs and touch herself, to relieve the nagging need at the apex of her trembling thighs. She groans in dismay and drops her hand, gripping the sheet when she realizes the swell of her abdomen is now too large for her to reach her own drenched folds. 

But gods, she needs relief. 

“Astarion,” she huffs, her voice tipping up into a whine as kisses are trailed along her thigh. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood for teasing.”

Astarion lifts his lips to chuckle in delight at her little predicament. His head tips up; she can barely see his eyes, shining with mischief, over the swell of her abdomen. 

“Darling, I usually have to physically restrain you so that you cannot touch yourself while I’m playing with your pretty cunt like this,” he purrs, a silver eyebrow cocked as his eyes lift and drag across her barely-clothed body. “This is a delightful development on my part.” 

“Astarion, I swear, if you don’t—“ Tav interrupts her threats with a strangled moan as two of his fingers easily slide into her walls. Her hips eagerly buck in response. 

“What you were saying, darling?” Astarion asks, cockily, as the flat of his palm presses against her clit. 

Tav is barely able to stifle the wanting cry that begs to escape her lips as she struggles to speak.

“What was that?” He teases again, as his fingers slip in and out of her entrance, the lewd sounds of her slickness filling the bedroom. He removes his fingers and trails them up to her clit, pressing down and rubbing forcefully, causing a shocked whine to shoot from Tav’s mouth. He chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you over all the moaning and whining, love. Did you want something else?”

“No,” Tav finally manages to gasp out through ragged breaths, her hips rolling against Astarion’s fingers as he slides them back inside. 

Astarion hums a contented sound from the back of his throat, entirely pleased with her response. “There’s my good girl. Now, how about you relax and let daddy do all the work, hm?” He asks, his eyes focused on Tav’s arousal dripping itself onto his fingers, beckoning his tongue to taste. 

Tav is left with no choice but to obey the command, and simply nods her head before tossing it backwards as she focuses on the pleasure building between her legs. She moans when Astarion’s lips lock against her flesh and cries out as his tongue slides along her clit. He smirks along her drenched cunt, his tongue lavishing the familiar trails of pleasure that he’s memorized after years of study. 

He takes his time, tracing around her overly sensitive nub in expert circles. He hooks his fingers to stroke along the sensitive spot that makes her toes tingle, grinning when he feels them, strewn over his shoulder and curled up in pleasure against his back. He flicks his tongue in the way he knows she prefers, listening to the muffled cries of pleasure that escape as she attempts to keep her voice down and avoid waking their toddler. He misses the way she used to scream for him. 

But she can still scream for him, can’t she? He’s certain he can make her cry out just the same. 

Astarion licks a final strip against Tav’s clit and then pulls back, his fingers still sunk deep within her, all the way to the third knuckle. He roams his eyes over his little love, up to the curve of her abdomen, stretched taut with the result of their coupling. His heart fills with pride as his free hand moves to rest atop her swollen stomach while his eyes wander and settle upon her face. Her mouth is agape, but there’s no sound coming out apart from a soft gasp or ragged breath every time he slides his fingers in and out of her eager entrance. 

Quite a shame, really. She makes the most beautiful noises when she doesn’t hold back. 

Tav’s eyes open, her face flushed and lids drooping with lust. She’s frustrated, he can tell, by the removal of his tongue. Her lips are dropping into a pout; her only response is a huffy whine. 

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now, now, patience, little love,” he chides, lightly, removing his fingers from the wetness of her folds and licking the slickness from them with a hum, all while ignoring the disappointed groan from Tav. “I’ll give you what you want… you just have to give me what I want first.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “And what is that, exactly?”

He grins playfully and presses himself up to standing. On the way to the door, he unbuttons and shrugs off his shirt. He quickly clicks the lock closed and spins around before lowering his trousers. 

Tav is watching him closely; he makes a show of sliding his bottoms down and freeing his cock. His length is twitching with anticipation, begging to plunge into her depths and spill its seed. And hells, she’s a tempting picture. Almost impossible to resist. The thought alone causes a drop of pre-fluid to bead at the head of his cock; he drops a hand to stroke his length. His mind fills with the urge to stuff Tav full and thrust into her until she is sweaty and dripping with his sticky spend. Until it is leaking from her hole and onto her thighs, spilling into the sheets beneath her. Until she smells only of sex and him. 

But he can wait a while longer, if only to make her just as desperate as he feels. If only to pull those pretty little pleas from her mouth. 

“For a start, use those beautiful hands of yours to cast a silence spell for me, won’t you, my love?”

Tav flushes but obliges, her fingers waving to cast a spell she’s performed hundreds of times before, though perhaps not recently, and certainly not in this context. A shroud of silence surrounds the room, insulating them from anything outside the four walls around them. Astarion smirks as he stalks toward the bed, the corners of his lips pulling up in a vulpine smile, eyes dark with lust but glinting with rougery. Quite like the vampire that used to slip into Tav’s bedroll at night. 

He has Tav right where he wants her, and he knows it. He’s no longer a vampire, of course, but perhaps the animalistic, predatory side of him never truly left. He’d always been one to toy with his food, back then in camp, hadn’t he? 

“Now then, darling,” Astarion purrs as he slides back onto the bed and assumes the position he’d been in moments before, his face nestled between her legs. He smiles smug, fingers spreading her folds, wetness seeping from her entrance. “How about we see if I can still make you scream?”

“You are an arrogant bastard, Astarion An–” Tav huffs, a sharp gasp interrupting her chastisement as Astarion’s tongue presses against her clit. Astarion chuckles in response, the sound causing vibrations to pulse against her sex and she gasps again, her hand instinctively coming to cover her mouth. 

Astarion growls in disapproval, extending his own hand out to yank hers from her face, fingers threading through hers to keep them there. She will scream for him; he will continue his efforts until she does. He presses more insistently into that bundle of nerves, swelling now, the result of his ability to play her body perfectly. Tav bucks and a fresh bit of slickness covers his chin. He dips his head lower, tongue sliding against her slit and down further to lap at the oasis between her legs. 

She always tastes divine. 

His lids flutter closed as he inhales the heady aroma of her arousal and tastes the musky sweetness of her sex. His cock throbs at the familiar combination. He laps eagerly and then returns his attention to her clit, using his free hand to plunge two fingers into her entrance and curl, landing on the spot that makes her cry for him. Tav bucks in response, her hips lifting up and against his face, silently pleading for more.

Silently.

Oh. She’s remaining quiet on purpose, isn’t she?

That won’t do. 

Astarion lifts up and away from Tav, his eyebrow arching in somewhat of a challenge. He unconciously licks at the slickness on his lips as he huffs, “Must you insist on being a brat?”

Tav’s eyebrow lifts in return, her gaze steady as she stares back at him, straining to keep her chest from heaving. “What? You thought this would be easy? That I would be easy? Not the first time you’ve miscalculated, my love.” 

“Really,” Astarion says as his eyes narrow, the hand that had been threaded through Tav’s fingers pulling away. He grips into the plushness of her ass, holding her firmly in place. “Don’t pretend I didn’t have you screaming for me in the Elfsong with nothing more than my tongue, Tav.”

“It’s been so long since then, I can hardly remember— ah—!” 

Astarion laves her clit with renewed vigor, his fingers pumping in and out of her entrance in rapid time. His hand grips into Tav’s flesh, holding her against him and minimizing the movement of her hips. His tongue swirls around and around in steady circles, fingers curled to press back against the spot that makes her gasp with every thrust. He can sense she is holding back, in the trembling of her thighs and the movements of her hands, firmly fisted into the bed sheets. He can also tell she’s not far from reaching her peak.

But far enough. 

He can keep her on the edge, like he used to quite frequently, when the taste of her blood was made better by the taste of her wanton anticipation. Back when he would latch onto her neck and suckle more for comfort than sustenance, keeping himself on the edge just as much as he’d kept her there. 

More, perhaps, in truth. 

Astarion rolls his hips at the thought, stiff cock dragging along silken sheets, and lets out a moan of his own. No longer thirsting for blood, but the memory of the intense, desperate thirst and the feeling of utter satiation still causes his desire to flare. 

Nothing and no one has ever or will ever satisfy him as much as Tav. That much is certain. 

Astarion almost gives in and lets Tav come. Almost gives in to the desire to taste her ecstasy in the only way he can, nowadays. Almost. But just before her thighs are about to clamp around his head, he remembers the game at hand. His pride wins out. He slows his fingers and reduces the pressure from his tongue, grinning when he hears Tav whine. 

“You absolute bastard!” Tav hisses, fist pounding into the mattress. 

He chuckles, fingers lazily dragging in and out of Tav’s entrance as he lifts his head up to once again peer over the swell of her abdomen. His eyes lock onto her exposed chest, tits swollen and stretched, skin glistening with sweat. He licks his lips; he can taste nothing but her. He trails his gaze upward, to the sharp, narrowed eyes glaring down at him and smirks as he slowly lifts himself onto his knees. 

“Is that really any way to speak to the father of your children, my love?”

“Is this really any way to treat the mother of your children, darling?”

Astarion pouts, a fake jut of his lower lip before his expression pulls up into a smile, just a bit arrogant, but mostly sweet. “You know what I want, darling. Stop being stubborn. Just give it to me, and I will give you what you want, hm?” 

“You’re going to have to try harder, then, Astarion,” Tav responds, her eyebrow arching again. She lifts her chin in another bit of a challenge. “Or perhaps you just aren’t as skilled as you once were, hm?”

Astarion’s eyes flash something fierce. “Now, now, darling. I know you don’t mean that. Take it back.”

“Make me,” she replies, the challenge a clear invitation as her face flushes in anticipation, eyes shimmering with desire. 

Oh, so that is how it’s going to be, then. 

He’d been much gentler with Tav, in her first pregnancy, far too unsure about the safety of such activities. But this time around, and after much assurance from both Tav and Shadowheart, Astarion has grown quite used to being a bit more… typical in his activities with his wife. He’s rolling her onto her stomach in an instant, pillows dragged lower to cradle her abdomen, fingers digging into her thighs. 

“Is this what you want, darling? For me to take you from behind and make you scream for me?” he growls, skin flushing hot as he tempts himself with the same words he’s using on Tav. His engorged cock is begging for attention. 

But not yet. 

Not until she gives him what he wants. 

Let it be soon.

“Yes,” Tav responds, voice raspy, no longer able to keep still as her desire takes over. She presses herself back against Astarion, the length of his cock sliding temptingly along her folds. 

“Beg, then,” Astarion demands, one hand trailing up her thigh to sit on the curve of her ass. He lifts his hand and smacks down, reveling in the sound of Tav’s delighted keen. But after that, further fucking silence. Tav continues to roll back against him, trying to tempt him into giving her what she wants. 

Naughty thing. 

He smacks the side of her ass again, harder this time, ripping a startled moan from her throat. His cock begins to leak pre-fluid at the sound of her voice mixed with the rocking of her hips. He’s becoming quite desperate, himself, his ears turning hot, cock throbbing, heart thudding in anticipation. 

Perhaps a bit more enticement, then. 

He presses the tip of his cock forward, almost losing control and thrusting to the hilt when he feels the warm suction of her walls. Tav whines when he pulls away and then holds steady, just pressing the tip of himself into her with barely-there thrusts. He purrs, “Won’t you beg for me, darling? Three little words, that’s all it takes.”

A moment of silence. He trails his fingers across her flesh, over the curve of her ass, up the side of her spine, igniting goosebumps in his wake. He rolls his hips languidly, his cock just filling the very entrance of her hole with each pass. 

And then finally. 

Finally. 

“Please fuck me.”

The plea comes out muffled, Tav’s face pressed into the sheets beneath them. Astarion’s cock jumps. He uses the last of his willpower to pull his tip from Tav and slide instead along her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. He’s won. And yet, he cannot resist the urge to tease her just a bit further. 

“Mm… what was that, dear? I can’t quite hear you past the pillow.”

Tav lifts and turns her head, her eyes wide and desperate. Face flushed red, sweat glistening down her cheeks. She murmurs her second plea, almost a whine, nearly breathless, “Please fuck me… daddy.”

His cock aches. 

Oh, she knows exactly what she is doing. Little devil. 

Without another word Astarion slams himself into her entrance, immediately taking her to the hilt. Tav’s head rears back as she moans, loudly, at the sensation of being filled. Astarion’s length throbs and threatens to spill on impact. He watches Tav, her eyes still turned toward him as she begins to press back into him again. 

“So very eager, aren’t you, love?” he asks, as his hips begin to roll in time with her movements. Before long, he is picking up the pace and she is following. Her walls clench around him in a steady rhythm. His arm wraps around her waist — not a particularly easy feat nowadays — fingers searching for her clit. He finds the nub and begins working it insistently; Tav emits high keens as he rubs his fingers into her clit. “Do you want to come, darling?”

Tav whines when Astarion thrusts into her quite sharply, hips canting at a near-supernatural pace. The plushness of her ass bounces with each thrust, cushioning the impact of his harsh movements. “Yes!”

“Then won’t you come for me?” Astarion coaxes in a coo, groaning as he feels Tav clench and pulse around him, signaling her imminent release. He adjusts his hips just slightly, aiming for the spot inside her walls that makes her come undone, and knowing he’s found it when she lets out a sound that is something of a whining scream. He grins. “There we go… let me hear you, my sweet.”

Another roll of his hips and Tav is gone, her head tossing back as she braces herself on all fours, no longer able to match Astarion’s movements. Her cunt wraps around him eagerly, pulsing against the engorged length of his cock. She reaches a near-whistling shriek midway through her orgasm and the sound quickly causes Astarion’s resolve to shatter. He utters some sort of incoherent praise as his cock swells and then twitches while he loses himself inside her greedy walls. 

He needed this. She needed this. It had been far too long. 

The two are bound together, each riding the aftershocks of release. Both heaving with exertion and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Finally, Astarion runs a hand up to Tav’s waist, settling gently. “Everything alright, my love?”

Tav nods her response and then groans, chuckling softly. “I think… I think I’m going to need help rolling back over, Astarion.” 

Astarion laughs as he removes himself from Tav, arms moving to support her as she rolls onto her back with a labored huff. She ends the Silence spell with a lazy wave of her hand and yawns. Her eyes flutter closed as a hand trails down to her abdomen and rests upon her bump.

“I’ll need you to start making use of that spell more often, darling,” Astarion murmurs as he presses a kiss into her forehead with a smile. His poor little love is already drifting back into the nap he’d pulled her from. 

“Mmm…” she agrees, already half asleep, her other hand instinctively searching for his. He laces their fingers together as he lays down beside her, pulling the covers over them both, intent on joining her for a nap. Best to get their rest while they both can. 

In a few more weeks, sleep will be nothing but a memory. 

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[porcalinecunt]

𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 !

𐐂 what if kakucho was an incubus . . . ?

🩰 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐒! 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓����𝐎 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

🧴𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader. soft dom! kakucho. sub!reader. fingering. biting. blood. sound kink. size kink(?). soft sex. kakucho has a tail. cumshots.

a/n: happy 2024 yall! sorry i haven’t been posting much, school was kicking my ass and i’ll be just as busy for the next few months ahead. i want to continue the incubus series though so here’s kakucho! if you want to request a charecter, my inbox is open! as always, enjoy! 🤍

꒰ incubus! kakucho would notice you in your most vulnerable state, desperately riding what looked like a fuzzy depiction of another man. your body language and a face too euphoric for someone fucking a rando said enough about your troubles. you missed someone, and you missed them bad. at least, not for long.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would make sure his welcome was warm, retracting his claws and hiding his massive wings as you opened your eyes to meet him in yet another dream. his hands were soft, squeezing the plush of your thighs and hips. your confusion quickly washed away as you felt something slither around your arm. it was black and furry with a sharp, pointed end. his tail wrapped snug around your arm, almost pulling you closer to him.

꒰ incubus! kakucho slithers his fingers in your immediately, watching your face contort in pleasure as he finds your weak spots with ease. you could only stare in awe as he leans into your neck, biting into the soft skin. hot blood trickled down your chest, but your senses were so overwhelmed with pleasure that the sting faded into nothingness. nonetheless, he was careful. Treating you with a tenderness that most incubuses would throw into the wind, consider yourself a lucky one.

꒰ incubus! kakucho, after easing your pussy and drenching his fingers, would slowly sink his cock into you. he would only stop, as he watched you struggle to take it. you’re not the first mortal to struggle taking him, and certainly not the last. unable to keep your legs open, kakucho pushed them down until they touched your chest while keeping them together, exposing your cunny completely. he watched in awe as you swallowed him whole, sighing in response.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would savor every last sound you made. every loud moan and yelp your throat forced out just went straight to his dick, driving him deeper into your greedy cunt. despite your shy and hesitant demeanor, you refused to let him slip out even by accident. kakucho pushed himself forward, placing both hands besides your head, caging you completely. he admired you as your syrupy eyes looked around at the current position you were in as your mouth hung open.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would reach closer and closer to his orgasm, holding your legs and keeping your thighs spread apart while his pace grew sloppy. he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a long and slow kiss. incubuses would bust a lung laugh at the mere thought of intimacy with a mortal, but kakucho still had his shread of kindness that he gladly shared as you came around his cock from the shockingly gentle act.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would feel his dick twitch as the knot in his stomach began to snap. he’d pull out and give himself a few more strokes before threads of his seed would paint your trembling body. groaning and sighing, he adored the sight in front of him. your legs trembling while your chest and face were flushed. his cum spilled all over your stomach, some even reaching your chin. if only he could stay for longer, but it’s no big deal after all! you’ll see him again soon enough the next time you miss a hookup or ex. <3

🎀 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

[sthavoc]

A Latina singer who does sings in English and Spanish who's actually very famous who has been dating Enzo for years but people are just now finding out and putting it together. People now realizing there's been so many sightings of them together or him at her shows.

🎤« 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x latina!singer!fem!reader

𖥔 ࣪˖ summary: enzo and you have been dating for the past 3 years. nobody knew you guys were a thing but after reaching his peek after the drop of Society of the Snow, fans begin to piece pieces together.

𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: only fluff I believe

𖥔 ࣪˖ note: I love this idea!! did this in headcanons. I hope you enjoy this anon and everyone<3 for the sake of the fic i’ll say she wrote some of the songs but all credit goes to its respective well talented owners.

☆ You and Enzo had met at a cafe. A classic frankly. The thing was that you had a concert in the city and Enzo was just visiting. The two of you hit it off well.

☆ You weren’t sure if to feel surprised or not at the fact that he didn’t know who you were at first. But later he told you he didn’t know much about famous people so that fairly made you understand. In some way, it also made you feel better at the fact that he wasn’t dating you because of your fame but because of the kind of person you were.

☆ If the man had the opportunity, he would go to your concerts. He would even take pictures of your fabulous outfits and of the whole arena filled with fans. It was as if you had your very own photographer.

☆ You would write him songs. There was no denying it, and he would know. One of his personal favorites was Lover. When you wrote it, both of you had just turned one year. To you, it felt like you had been dating that man for years instead of one. You were in love, and the fans knew it.

☆ Your favorite song for him was Disfruto. Not only because it was in Spanish but because that was your way of expressing that you would do anything for Enzo to feel safe with you. Never let him down since he is the one you want to grow old with and spend every important moment with.

☆ Later on, fans began to spot Enzo in your concerts. The thing was that in most of your shows, he wore hats, and due to the dimness of the light you wouldn’t be able to see much from his complexion, only his apparel. They would ask themselves. Who is that guy? However, overall they were happy for you.

☆ When the movie dropped, everyone was going insane with Enzo. That also entirely complicated how the two of you would have your relationship established now. Your fans knew you had been dating someone, and you somehow managed to keep the man a secret. But did you?

☆ When Enzo got his fans, and his media only grew bigger, a lot of pictures were revealed on the internet. Some of them would be from the movie, with the boys, from previous years, him as a teenager. There were specific ones of him with an Iron Maiden shirt. For some reason, the fans recognized the shirt.

“I swear I’ve seen that shirt on before him before.” They would say.

When they also went into one of his highlights out of curiosity and found a picture he had taken at one of your concerts. At first, they assumed he was a fan of you, but later when videos of the mysterious man at your concerts started to pop up again was when they began to question. Since some of the shirts Enzo would wear, he would have pictures with them. But fans still wouldn't be sure.

☆ Until there was a picture. You had posted a picture years ago of Enzo but you couldn’t see his face completely. Only a tad bit of his eye and nose. He laid on your legs as he napped, while your hand rested on his cheek. It almost covered most of his face, and he wore the Iron Maiden t-shirt. You had taken that picture down but of course, screenshots exist.

☆ Fans were jolted by the image and asked when that picture was taken. Everyone was saying that the picture was from 2 years prior, and that was when they started to connect everything thoroughly. That Enzo was the mysterious man in your concerts and the picture he had taken of the arena was just him being supportive. And that from that very picture was where they recognized the shirt from.

“YOU GUYS that was Enzo all along!”

“you’re telling me we’ve seen this man even before he reached his fame???”

☆ Enzo and you had gone public officially, after a month since the two of realized the fans already knew. You would go on dinner dates, breakfast, and brunch. And of course, if he had time in his schedule, he would still be there at your concerts. Videos of him would be on the internet the next day. With his camera resting on the strap around his neck and a huge smile carved on his lips with the glint of love in his eyes.

“Guys, look at Enzo being the best supportive boyfriend he is.”

[soshirohoshinasimp]

"Everyone's falling in love and I'm falling behind"

It always starts the same way: I watch it happen, and with each passing moment, the ache in my chest grows sharper, like a constant pressure I can't shake.

Another group chat. Another flood of photos, captions, and text updates from my friends. Another one of them sharing that they’ve met someone special, or that they've been on a date, or that they’re "officially in a relationship." The words blur together, the images become a haze of happy faces, intertwined hands, and promises of forever, while I sit here staring at my screen, feeling like everyone is moving forward, and I’m the only one standing still.

I’m happy for them, of course. I tell them I am. I send my congratulations, my emojis, do my best to sound genuinely thrilled for their happiness. But inside, there’s a quiet, gnawing feeling—that something is slowly being chipped away, like I’m stuck in the same place while the rest of the world keeps running.

It’s not that I don’t try. I fall in love easily—maybe too easily. It’s one of those things I can’t control. A smile, a laugh, the way someone’s eyes linger just a little longer than necessary, and I’m hooked. I imagine all the little things before I even know their last name—walks in the park, late-night conversations, whispered secrets in the dark. I let myself dream about everything that could be, even though I’m the only one dreaming.

The problem isn’t that I fall too quickly. The problem is that no one ever falls in love with me.

I try not to think about it. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter. But every time another picture of a happy couple pops up, or the group chat explodes with excited updates about how “everything just feels right,” I can’t help but wonder: Why not me?

It’s as if I’m watching from the outside, peering through a foggy window at a life I’ll never belong to. Everyone else has found their someone, their partner, their “person,” while I stand alone at the edge of the crowd, half-smiling, pretending I’m fine, even when it feels like I’m not.

The worst part is that no one means to hurt me. They don’t know how their joy, their shared moments of connection, make me feel like I’m missing something I’ll never find. It’s like they’re all part of a club I can’t seem to get into, no matter how hard I try.

There are times when I catch myself getting too attached—when I start to like someone, a friend, a coworker, maybe just someone who’s kind to me. For a moment, I let myself believe that maybe this time, it’ll be different. This time, maybe they’ll see me the way I see them. But every time, I make the mistake of getting too close, of caring too much, I’m reminded that the love I’m offering isn’t what they want. It’s never what they want.

It’s a strange kind of loneliness, this quiet ache. It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s not a storm—it’s more like a slow drip, a constant reminder that I’m not enough. Not enough to be loved. Not enough to be chosen. Just... not enough.

And still, I hope. Still, I fall again.

I can’t stop myself from falling in love with the idea of love. Even when I know it’s unlikely. Even when I see the signs, when I recognize the patterns. Even when I know I’ll probably get hurt again.

I tell myself it’s okay. I tell myself that I don’t need anyone to complete me. That one day, it’ll happen, that one day, I’ll find someone who looks at me the way I look at them. But with every relationship that starts without me, with every “I’m so in love” post I scroll past, that hope starts to feel more like a dying ember, flickering weaker and weaker until it barely gives off any warmth at all.

Everyone’s falling in love, and I’m falling behind.

I tell myself I’m fine. That I’m strong. That I don’t need anyone else to feel whole. And in the rare moments when the ache doesn’t feel so sharp, I almost believe it. But then another couple announces their engagement, or another friend talks about how perfect their date was, and the ache comes back. A little sharper. A little louder.

I’m happy for them, of course. I’ll always be happy for them. But as I sit there, scrolling through their pictures, their stories, their dreams, I can’t help but wonder: When will it be my turn?

Is it too much to ask for, for a person to give me the love I give out tenfold? Or am i just stuck in my own delusions as usual.

But for now, I’m just waiting. And everyone else is falling in love.

And I’m falling behind.

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 6)

Pairing: Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count : 1.7k

Warnings: angst, foul language, not proofread.

A/n: I hate Mary more than I hate John🥰

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

After Castiel had left, Dean was left alone with his thoughts. He mustered up the courage to finally tell Y/n everything. He would tell her everything. He was overwhelmed, all his emotions came crashing into him at once. He was angry at his parents, ashamed in front of his lover, and ashamed at his own dilemma. With an uneasy feeling inside his chest, he called her inside.

Y/n stepped inside the room looking completely unbothered but Dean knew better, he knew she was keeping up a facade of being fine and he wanted nothing more than to take away all her pain.

"Yes, Mr.Winchester?" She said, her tone void of any adoration he was used to.

"Don't do that." Dean begged. "Please." Y/n stared at him blankly and he cleared his throat, standing up from his chair. She waited for him to speak with her arms crossed across her chest. He stopped in front of her. "There's something you need to know." He said softly and she scoffed.

"Isn't it a bit too early?" She asked sarcastically. "I thought you might want to wait until your wedding." She sneered. Dean knew he deserved everything she threw at him but he wouldn't deny that he felt a bit of anger and frustration build up, she's not even letting him explain.

"Will you let me talk, please?" Dean replied softly but she could tell there was an edge to his voice. She nodded reluctantly. He led her to couch placed in his office and sat down beside her. Taking in a deep breath, Dean spilled it all. He told her how his parents are forcing him to marry Rachel, he stood against it and his father threatened to kick him off his position, he even tried telling them that he has someone in his life but they wouldn't budge. Y/n listened to him intently, a soft gasp leaving her lips at the mention of Dean losing his position as CEO. She could tell he was conflicted, she felt bad for treating him the way she did but then again he hid it from her when she asked so its not completely her fault.

"Why did you lie to me when I asked you what happened at your parents'?" She asked softly, now something understanding the situation better.

"I thought I'd deal with it without you knowing, I didn't want you to worry, but then Rachel showed up and it all went to shit." Dean said remorseful. She nodded her head indicating she understood. She was quiet for a while and it killing Dean on the inside, he really wanted to know what she was thinking. "Please say something." He pleaded, when she didn’t speak he added. “Look at me.” He placed his fingers underneath her chin and made her look at him. “I love you, and I’ll talk to my parents again. It’s true I don’t want to choose between you and this job but if it comes down to it, I’ll choose you.” Dean said sincerely.

“I know.” She spoke airily, giving him a gentle smile she added, “but I don’t want you to.” Dean opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head. “If this this position would’ve been given to you just because it’s your father’s company, if I didn’t know how hard you’ve worked to get here. I would’ve asked you to choose me.” She said placing her hand over his cheek. “I can let you go knowing you love me with everything you have than have you resent me a few years down the line for making you miserable.”

“No, it won’t ever happen. This isn’t important. You are. You make me happy.” Dean argued and she smiled sadly at his at his attempt to convince her.

“Right now—yes.” She concluded. “A few years later, maybe not. Dean you’ve worked hard for this. This is your dream and I can’t take that away from you.”

“I don’t wanna lose you, please.” Tears pooled at his eyes at the thought of losing the one person he loves more than anything in the entire world. “I need you in my life.”

“You won’t. I’m right here.” She chuckled through her tears, gesturing to her workspace outside his office. He shook his head again. “I’m not going anywhere Dean.” The moment hung in the air, heavy with the weight of words exchanged. His eyes turned dark and intense and she felt her heart stutter in her chest.

The moment lingered, fragile and bittersweet, as they sat facing each other, the weight of what was to come pressing down on them. His eyes were soft, filled with a sadness she had never seen before, as if he were memorizing every detail of her face. Time seemed to still as he reached for her, his rough hand cupping her cheek, thumb brushing lightly against her skin. She leaned into the touch, his lips crashed into hers and it was as if the world fell away.

When his lips met hers, it was slow, achingly tender. There was no rush, no desperation—just a quiet sorrow that settled between them like a final farewell. His lips brushed against hers with a softness that made her heart ache, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every unfulfilled promise, into that one moment. Their moment was broken when the door slammed open and a loud gasp was heard. They both quickly pulled apart and saw Rachel standing in the doorway. She looked upset at first but then her faced twisted in to a condescending smirk.

“Now I understand why men approach you, they know a skank when they see one.” Rachel sneered folding her arms across her chest. Dean stood from his place and walked closer to her.

“Apologise. RIGHT NOW.!” He growled menacingly and Rachel flinched a bit. Y/n quickly rushed to Dean’s side and placed a hand over his arm to calm him down.

“Get away from him you-“

“I swear to God, Rachel if you said anything to her, I will make sure you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Dean threatened making the woman gulp in fear.

“Why the hell are you behaving like this? I’m your soon to be wife!” She yelled.

“No you’re not. You’re just some girl who I went to school with. I’ve never loved you and I never will.” Dean yelled back.

“I’ll make you fall for me once we’re married.” She replied.

“You’re delusional.” Dean snarked. “I love Y/n and only her. I’ll love her until my last breath.” With a huff and a nasty glare to towards Y/n, she left stomping her feet but not before adding,

“We’ll see about that.”

Dean turned to Y/n, holding her arms. “You okay, baby?” He caressed her skin, calming her. She nodded but Dean knew she was still shook up from what Rachel had said. He hates that woman so much. “Hey, I’ll talk to Dad. We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Dean knew if he went to his Dad he might be able to get out of this arrangement. His mother is kind of a control freak and he hates it. It was only Sam’s luck that he had crush on Jess even before Mary arranged them. There’s a possibility John might listen to him if Mary’s not present.

The rest of the day passed rather quickly, and Y/n back home. While Dean drove to his parent’s house. He had asked Sam to keep Mary away from home for a while, so Sam made up lie about Jess needing help with wedding preparations, that would keep her occupied for a few hours at-least.

“Dad.” Dean said entering the house and finding his father lounging on the couch. The old man wasn’t too happy to see his eldest son after the scene he’d created a few days prior.

“Dean.” He greeted back tersely.

“Dad, I need to talk to you.” The green eyed man stated, staring down at his father, and the latter raised his brow with curiosity. He gestured his son to sit and talk. “ I can’t marry Rachel. You have to understand. Mom wants me to settle down, fine! I will. But not with Rachel. Like I said that day, I have someone in my life.” Dean poured his heart to his dad and John was surprised to say the least.

“I thought you just it to get out of the arrangement.” John commented.

“Dad, I’m your son. I don’t just say things.” Dean sighed defeatedly. “I do have someone.” He added.

“You love her, son?” John questioned.

“More than anything, Dad. We’ve been together to three years and I proposed a few weeks back. She said yes. I came here to tell you about us and then mom dropped that bomb on me.” John was astonished at the revelation of Dean being engaged. He knew his son was a private person but he never expected him to keep his relationship a secret from his family.

“I didn’t know that.” John said, he didn’t wait for his son to reply and added, “I don’t know who she is but the question still stands though, Her or the company.”

“Her.” Dean declared without a second thought. There’s nothing he would choose over her. He’d been a fool to not realise it earlier but the more he comes closer to losing her—the more he realises he needs her more than anything. John smirked at his son, it was a test. It definitely was and he passed. If there’s anything John respects and adores most is true love. After all he went through all the sort of hurdles to marry his love, Mary.

“I’ll talk to your mother.” Was all John said but it was all Dean needed to hear. Even though the Winchester men were not the most emotional ones out there, in this moment Dean couldn’t help but hug his father. John patted his son’s back and Dean felt like he could finally breathe.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[fizzamess]

Keep the aroace positivity flowing (day 16) 💜

Being aroace to me means:

Being able to see someone else’s value far beyond their physical characteristics

Being able to go to a party and have the time of my life without feeling the vexing need to appeal to the male gaze

Being in control of my own sexuality

Being able to form relevant, long lasting, deep connections with family and friends

Being aware of the so many ways i can experience intimacy or love from the people around me

Learning to love myself completely, without depending on someone else’s constant reassurance

Realizing love and attraction come in wide spectrums and they’re not reduced to just romantic feelings/sexual attraction

Independence, freedom, empowerment

Embracing and accepting my own and unique experience with love and sexuality

Realizing I can live a happy and fulfilling life without finding a partner, marrying and having children

Realizing I’m not abnormal because there is a whole community out there with so many people that have experienced the same things as me

Realizing that not having a romantic/sexual partner doesn’t make me lonely

This is my experience.

What does being aro/ace/aroace mean to you?

[guiltyasdave]

delicate, isn’t it?

series masterlist • this is part III

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I’m sorry that this took forever and I’m also sorry about the amount of angst that’s awaiting you. I’ll promise right now, this will have a happy ending. All the love to @maximoff-forevermore for talking smut with me for hours, I would still be completely stuck if you hadn’t let me ramble to you about this. <3

word count: ~5k

summary: Dave has a nightmare, then you both have confusing feelings and don’t talk about it. More sex leads to even more confusion.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, dubious morals (Dave is cheating on his wife), age-gap implied, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (reader is on birth control in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, face & ass slapping, use of restraints, use of a belt as a collar, allusions to knife play and gun play, spitting, lack of emotional aftercare, everything about their dynamic is a little questionable in this, they have issues okay, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

dividers by @saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

“My perfect girl.”

The words echo in your mind, your thoughts twisting around them, trying to discern every possible meaning to them, long after Dave has already dozed off beside you. His girl. Your heart flutters at the thought, no matter how hard you try to suppress it.

He has been possessive before, calling you his slut, making you repeat back to him how your pussy is his alone, both of you getting off on it. But he has never called you his girl before, and never like this. Like something that he’d say to an actual girlfriend. Did he mean it like that, or was it just something that slipped out in his post-orgasmic haze? Your thoughts keep circling until the sound of Dave’s soft breathing eventually lulls you to sleep as well.

You jerk awake to a shout and movement beside you.

The hotel room is plunged in darkness, only illuminated by the faint moonlight that’s falling through the big glass windows. You lie there, your heart racing, both your mind and your eyes still adjusting to waking up so abruptly. For a moment you can’t place what’s disturbed your sleep in the first place. Then Dave cries out again, a strangely panicked sound that you’ve never heard from him before.

You sit up, trying to make out his face in the minimal light. His eyes are tightly screwed shut and he’s mumbling under his breath. “Dave?” you whisper, slowly reaching for his shoulder when he doesn’t respond. You shake it cautiously, trying his name again, a little louder this time.

His eyes fly open, one hand instantly wrapping around your wrist where you’re touching him, engulfing it in a steely grip. He seems disoriented, his eyes wide with panic, his breaths coming in short gasps. “Hey,” you murmur, his gaze flickering to your face, confusion washing over his features, “it’s- it’s me. You- I think you had a nightmare.” He mutters your name, sounding more like a question, and you nod quickly. He breathes in deeply, the hold on your wrist loosening, his hand coming up to cup your face instead, stroking over your cheek like he has to convince himself that you’re really there.

“Are you hurt?” he inquires, and you shake your head.

“I’m good, nothing happened. You just had a bad dream.” He hums, sounding somewhat unconvinced and you move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. He lets you, his breath coming heavy against your neck, his large frame still trembling slightly. You press your lips into his hair, noting somewhere in the back of your mind that you’ve never held him like this before.

“It’s okay. You’re safe, we’re safe,” you murmur, feeling his arms moving around your middle, hugging your body against his, “everything’s okay, I promise. It was just a dream.” You place another kiss onto his hair and think you can feel him nod.

Then his arms tighten around you again. “Are the girls alright?” he asks, a new kind of worry tinging his voice. More frantic, closer to panic than before. You bite your lip.

“I don’t- I’m sorry, I don’t know,” you admit, “we’re at the hotel, remember?” His arms don’t relax. “But I’m sure they’re fine. They’re most likely asleep right now, but you can call them in the morning?” you suggest, feeling unsure how to navigate this situation. Usually, Dave is the calm one, the one to comfort you and tell you that everything’s okay.

He nods again, a little stronger this time. “Yeah… But you’re okay?” he asks again, the genuine worry in his tone almost breaking your heart.

“Yes,” you confirm, trying to keep your voice as calm and reassuring as you can, “I’m okay, everybody’s safe, I promise.” He hums again, his arms still tight around you, but you can feel him slowly start to unwind and relax.

It takes you a long time to fall back asleep, your mind trying to connect the man who’s in your arms right now with the man you know, the man who always seems so sure and in control of everything.

When you wake up again, the bed beside you is empty and you can hear the shower running. It takes a few moments until you remember the night’s events clearly. The shower turns off and Dave emerges from the en-suite, a towel wrapped around his hips. For once, the sight of his naked torso doesn’t instantly leave you breathless.

“Good morning,” you say, giving him a small smile as you sit up on the bed, the blanket still wrapped around you.

“Morning,” he replies, not really looking at you as he picks out his clothes for the day. His voice isn’t cold, just kind of… impersonal. Not the warmth and playfulness that you’ve gotten used to over the past few days.

You worry your lip between your teeth, unsure of how to proceed, but eventually take a deep breath and ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” He doesn’t turn around from the closet, the dismissiveness clear in his voice.

“Just- because of last night, I thought…” You wish your voice wouldn’t sound as small as it does. You also wish he would look at you.

“It was just a dream. Sorry that I woke you up.” He throws you a quick glance over his shoulder, his face looking like a mask, devoid of any emotion.

“No, don’t be sorry. But it seemed pretty intense, so I just wanted to say, if you want to talk about it…” You trail off again, his closed off demeanor putting you on edge.

“I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately. Not much to talk about.” He finally turns around and looks you dead in the eye. Giving you the clear indication that he doesn’t want to expand on the subject. You nod. This is what he always says when he’s especially riled up. That he’s stressed, that he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t pry, you never have. But right now, you wish that he would let you in, that you could be someone he trusts enough to open up to.

You don’t say any of that, you mutter an “okay” and take off for a quick shower yourself, mostly just to escape from the room. When you walk back out, he’s sitting in one of the armchairs in the living area, with his phone in his hand. He looks up at your approaching footsteps, still with that weirdly distant look in his eyes.

“Listen, I just gotta call the girls real quick, make sure that everything’s alright at home. Okay?”

And you get it. Of course you get it. Dave doesn’t talk about his daughters often, but when he does, it’s obvious how much he loves them. It’s one of the things that you like about him. It’s you who suggested calling them last night, after all.

So you get it, you really do. It doesn’t make the sharp sting in your chest at the way he so casually says “at home” hurt any less. Because his family is his home and you are not, because it doesn’t matter if you held him in the dark of night and whispered over and over that he’s safe and that everything is okay, or if he called you his perfect girl and pulled you into his chest less than 24 hours ago, or if you’re only on this island because he thought that you deserved something this nice.

And it’s your own damn fault because somewhere along the way you’ve apparently deluded yourself into thinking that you could be something more for him, like he hasn’t been crystal clear about his intentions, about his family life, which already exists and which you’re not part of.

So you just nod, mumbling something about getting dressed, and wander back to the bedroom, while he’s already holding his phone up against his ear. And you don’t try to listen in, you really don’t, but as big as the suite is, the sound of his voice still carries.

“Morning, Carol.”

You freeze. Obviously he’s calling his wife, not the girls themselves. They’re young, you know that. So he’s calling their mom, who is his wife. You know that. You’ve just never- she has been more of an abstract concept to you, not someone on the other line of a phone call mere feet away from you. A phone call from her husband, who you are on a fucking vacation with, playing honeymoon, while she’s at home with their kids. Suddenly, you feel sick.

“No, everything’s fine. Work’s going well, I should be back by the end of the week.”

He sounds so… normal. Not unfriendly, not cold. Not that different from how he normally sounds when he’s talking to you. You’re not sure what you expected, they’re living together after all, of course they’re speaking to each other like normal human beings. They’re married, they’re raising kids together for crying out loud. Who knows if she’s even aware of any issues with their marriage, a cruel voice inside your head whispers. You don’t want to believe that Dave would lie to you about this, but do you know? No.

You think it would be easier if you could immediately hear that they hate each other. You almost wish that they hated each other. Then you feel bad because they have kids, kids who shouldn’t experience what that’s like.

You haven’t been paying attention to Dave talking anymore, too caught up in the sudden realization that his wife is a real person, but then his tone changes drastically.

“Hello baby, how’s it going? …no, Daddy just wanted to say hi.”

Now he sounds warm. Genuine, caring. Sweeter than you have ever heard him. You smile to yourself before you can stop it.

All of a sudden, you’re hit with your mind conjuring up a vivid image of a little girl, talking to Dave on the phone. You don’t know what his daughters look like, but the girl that you’re seeing right now has his deep brown eyes and pouty lips, but your hair and the shape of your nose. Before you can help it, you’re envisioning him talking with your kids, raising them together, a life that you would have built with each other. You don’t even know if you want kids, if you want this kind of life, and the sudden intensity with which you’re longing for this vision, for this kind of domesticity with him, knocks the air out of your lungs.

You’re in way too deep. You rush into the bathroom and close the door behind you, suddenly terrified to hear another word of this phone call. You splash cold water on your face, desperately trying to calm yourself back down, your breath coming in short gasps. It’s too much, too much, all way too much. You shake your head at yourself; how could you let yourself get this far?

When you can no longer hear the murmur of his voice through the door, you surmise that it’s safe to leave the en-suite again. Trying to put on a face that doesn’t suggest that you’ve been close to a mental breakdown minutes ago.

“You okay, sweetheart?” You nod, not meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, of course. Just tired.” Your small smile doesn’t feel convincing to yourself and you know that he’s not convinced either. That he can tell when you’re lying. He looks at you for a beat longer, then mutters “alright” and stands up. There’s a tension around his mouth, something hardening him from the inside. You bite your lip, still not meeting his eyes.

You think back to the day before, how he teased you about your bikini, could barely keep his hands to himself. Not a hint of that playfulness can be found today.

“Is everything good? At- at home?” you ask, forcing your face into a neutral expression.

“Yeah,” Dave answers, a smile dancing over his features like he can’t help himself, “they’re fine.” You nod again, not sure what to say.

You spend the day on the hotel premises, lounging around on a big terrace in the shade, overlooking the ocean. Any other day, you’d be in awe of the view in front of you, but today you barely see it. You try reading your book while Dave is typing away on his laptop, but the sentences vanish from your mind as soon as you’ve read them without making any sense.

You try speaking to Dave a few times when the silence between you two becomes too deafening for you to bear it any longer, but his face remains a hard mask and his short, clipped answers make your heart sting so painfully that you eventually stop talking. You still don’t know what exactly went wrong. Has he realised that he misses his family, now that he’s talked to them? Did you do something, or did he see on your face how much you want him and now he’s trying to let you down without having to actually say it out loud? Does he want to go home early? You know that you’re spiraling, but you just can’t stop.

The elevator ride back up to your suite in the early evening is quiet. “I think we’ll just order room service, yeah? I can’t be bothered with that whole dinner thing tonight,” his voice suddenly breaks the tense silence between you. You almost flinch, your eyes flying up to meet his.

“O-okay,” you breathe. He’s annoyed by your presence, isn’t he? Can’t even bear the thought of another dinner with you. He’s realised he doesn’t want you here anymore, the voice of insecurity in your mind whispers.

You’re not sure what emotions are showing on your face, but a hint of uncertainty flies across his features. “Unless you want to…?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. You quickly shake your head. Don’t be more of a burden than you already are.

“No, that- that’s good. Room service sounds good.” You give him the most convincing smile that you can muster and he frowns, but doesn’t ask again.

You wouldn’t have thought it to be possible, but Dave grows even more rigid as you’re nearing the suite, the tension rolling off of him in waves. He holds the card to the sensor, lets you step in first, the door clicking shut behind him. His large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm, pressing into your flesh almost painfully.

“Strip. Right now. Then get on your knees.” His voice is dark, close to your ear, where he’s looming behind you.

You almost want to cry with relief. Relief that, no matter what is happening right now, at least he still wants this part of you. You want to submit to him, let him take the reins. This is what you know, what you’re good at. With him. For him. A familiar dynamic that you can let yourself sink into, where you know what to expect from him, after being on this edge of painful uncertainty all day.

You’ve barely pulled your top over your head when his hand is back on your shoulder, roughly pushing you down. “I said, on your knees,” he snarls, his hand fisting your hair and pulling until your neck is uncomfortably bent, your face turned up towards him. “Are you too dumb to follow the simplest instructions?” He gives your hair a harsh tug and you whimper.

“N-no, please. I’m sorry, sir.”

Dave grins. He looks menacing, still looming over you in that threatening way that he turns into when he’s dominating you, but he also looks more… at ease. As if he’s letting himself fall into this familiar game too, just like you.

“I’d tell you to go to the bedroom, but who knows if that would even register in that empty head of yours, huh? Guess I’ll be generous and help you.”

He lets go of your hair and slowly opens his belt, pulling it through the belt loops. You gulp as he fastens it around your neck instead, giving it an experimental tug that pulls it tighter. A moan escapes you and he chuckles. “Yeah, that turns you on? Being put on a leash like a fucking dog?”

Your face heats up in shame and your gaze drops down, but you can’t deny the wave of arousal that washes over you at his words. Your reply doesn’t come quick enough and Dave gives another sharp tug that has you gasping for air, then his palm connects harshly with your face. “You look at me and answer when I’m talking to you, you disrespectful little bitch.” You have been on the verge of tears for the better half of the day, but now, prompted by the sudden pain in your cheek, they’re finally spilling over.

You’re thankful for the outlet, to let some of your emotions pour out of you, even if it’s in this different context. You train your eyes on his face again and choke out “yes, it- fuck- it turns me on, thank you sir,” causing a wide grin to spread across his face.

He leans down to you, patting your stinging cheek in mock sympathy. “I know doll, I know just what a fucked up little thing you are. You want me to make you cry, don’t you?” It’s part of the game, technically, but you can tell how his gaze is sobering up for a moment, how he searches your face for any sign of genuine discomfort, any sign that you might not want this.

Just as sincerely, you look back into his eyes, giving him the reassurance that this is exactly what you want right now. “Yes, please sir.”

He slaps your face once more, then pulls himself up to his full height and looks down at you, the belt still tightly grasped in his hand. “Let’s go then, see if there’s anything that you’re good for.” He marches off towards the bedroom, dragging you with him. You scramble along, trying to keep up with his long steps, and he laughs when the belt draws tight around your throat, making you choke beside him.

You’re gasping for breath when Dave finally stops in front of the bed and frowns down at you. “You’re slow, doll. Not very well-trained.” He smirks at you. “We gotta work on that.” You choke out an apology that he dismisses with a lazy wave of his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it, we can put that mouth to much better use than your pathetic talking. Open wide… good girl.” You lips fall open almost on their own accord before he has even finished his sentence, your whole body desperate to please him and his praise has you glowing.

The mix of being degraded and praised almost simultaneously has your arousal rising quickly and you have to force yourself to not rub your thighs together as you’re kneeling before Dave, your mouth wide open and waiting while he’s smirking down at you, slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one and taking it off before he finally moves on to his pants where his bulge is already straining against the fabric.

By the time that he pushes down his pants and underwear, drool is slowly dripping out of your obediently opened mouth. Dave lets his cock rest heavily on your tongue for a few moments, then he pulls back out of your mouth and uses his cock head to spread your saliva and his precum across your face. You whimper but hold still and he tuts at you. “Don’t get impatient on me doll, I’ll fuck your face soon enough. Are you that desperate to choke on my cock?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper and he barks a laugh, then promptly shoves himself into your waiting mouth, hitting your throat on the first thrust and immediately causing you to gag. Tears start falling from your eyes again but you keep you gaze trained on his face, the need to please him stronger than anything else.

“Good girl, fuck you’re such a good girl,” he mutters, repeatedly burying his length in your throat, making you choke and sputter around him.

One hand is fisted into your hair, not letting you back away if you tried to, while the other is tightening the belt around your throat again. The added pressure from the outside has you choking even harder and Dave groans above you.

When he finally pulls out of your mouth, your face is wet with tears and spit and your pussy is burning with desire. Dave knows, somehow he always knows exactly what you need, and yanks you up until you’re standing, then pushes you onto all fours on the bed. “Spread your legs. Wider. Show me that slutty little cunt of yours, sweetheart,” he demands, and you obey, moving your legs wider apart and arching your back, putting yourself on full display for him.

“Good girl, so desperate, huh?” he coos and sinks two of his thick fingers inside you, lazily thrusting in a few times. Your hips push back eagerly, making him chuckle. “What do you want doll, huh? Tell me.” Your voice comes out breathy, the side of your face smushed into the sheets.

“M-more, please sir, please.” He pulls out of you, then adds a third finger and pushes into you even more forcefully than before. Your loud moan echoes through the room and he chuckles again.

“Yeah that’s good… I’d bet you’d let me stuff that greedy cunt with just about anything, wouldn’t you?” He curls his fingers inside of you, pressing into that spongy spot that makes stars dance across your vision and your “yes” comes out as a whine.

“That knife’s handle from yesterday, for example… How would you like that?” You feel like you’re barely coherent at this point, the pleasure that his fingers and his dirty words are creating so intense that it’s almost too much.

“Please please please…” you whimper and feel Dave’s hand come down hard on your ass.

“You’d probably even let me put a gun in here, huh, no complaints as long has you just get fucked somehow?” Your eyes widen at the thought, pure excitement thrumming through your veins and you clench hard around Dave’s fingers, another wave of wetness dripping out of you.

Dave’s laughter behind you sounds almost incredulous. “Fuck, yeah you’d like that. You dirty fucking whore, needing that pussy stuffed so badly…” His fingers keep working you relentlessly, thrusting into you and hitting your g-spot again and again until your legs are shaking, your hands helplessly curling into the bedsheets.

Your orgasm is approaching fast, your walls clenching around his fingers and you gasp out, “Sir, please, I-” but Dave yanks his hand away from you and roughly smacks your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he snarls and you bury your face into the mattress, fresh tears forming in your eyes at the denied orgasm.

“What made you think you deserve that, huh? Fucking greedy,” he seethes, running his hand over the hot skin of your ass a few times, causing you to shiver. “Give me your hands,” he demands and you obey without thinking, earning yourself another whispered “good girl” and a soft caress on your forearm that causes goosebumps to spread, before he gathers both your wrists in his hand and binds them together behind your back. You think faintly that he might be using one of his ties, the material soft but firm when you try moving your hands.

Before you can form any more thoughts on the matter, a rough yank on the belt that’s still wrapped around your throat jolts you backwards. Your choked gasp dies in your throat as Dave slams into you without warning, his cock stretching you open with that sting of painful pleasure that you’ve come to love.

“So fucking wet… Your needy little pussy is screaming for me, doll. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what you need.” He pulls out and fucks back into you with a snarl, setting a rhythm that would push you up the bed if it wasn’t for the belt around your neck. Dave is holding onto it tightly, pulling you back into his body by your throat, only allowing you to take quick small breaths and forcing you to arch your back intensely to accommodate him.

Your position causes him to hit you at an angle that has stars bursting behind your eyelids, his cock slamming straight into your g-spot with every thrust. His other hand is landing slaps on your backside that have you crying out and clenching around him, before he grips your hip in a way that you’re sure will leave bruises and steadies you, somehow intensifying the force of his thrusts even more.

You’re whimpering into the sheets, strings of please and sir and thank you leaving your mouth when you’re not choking on the tightening restraint around your throat, until Dave grabs your shoulder and roughly yanks you up until you’re leaning against his chest, his cock still hammering into you and obscene moans leaving your mouth. His fingers dip down to your clit, spreading your overflowing wetness over the sensitive nub and rubbing in tight little circles, making you clamp down on him almost immediately. “Please sir, I’m gonna- I can’t hold it, please,” you manage to gasp and feel him nodding beside you.

“Go on doll, come for me,” he rasps, his voice sounding completely wrecked and his thrusts hitting you impossibly deep. You all but scream out his name as you tense up, your orgasm spreading from your core through your entire body, your limbs trembling as Dave holds you close to his chest and lets you ride out your high until you calm down. The side of your face is pressed against his chest and you breathe heavily, your lips spreading kisses across the sweat-soaked skin that you can reach and you can’t help but smile up at him in your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Fuck, come here, fuck-” Dave suddenly pulls out of you and you can feel him roughly yanking at the tie around your wrists until it becomes loose, then he flips you around until you’re on your back underneath him, the change happening so quickly that you’re disoriented for a moment. He thrusts back inside of you and resumes his brutal rhythm without wasting a second, the new angle in your already overstimulated pussy making you gasp for breath and your hands come up instinctually after being restrained until now, grasping at his shoulders, your nails digging into the muscles there.

“Fuck!” he swears again, then he’s cupping your face and his mouth is on yours, his lips moving urgently against yours, his tongue demanding entry and licking into your mouth, causing you to moan loudly. You faintly note in the back of your mind that he hasn’t kissed you all day, something you hadn’t fully realized up until now, and you hold onto him even tighter, pouring all of your pent up feelings into this kiss. Dave groans, his mouth bruising against yours and his hands all over your face. His hips stutter and then he stills, filling you up with his cum as he’s breathing heavily against your lips.

He stays like this for a few more moments until he rolls off of you, his mouth not touching yours again. He goes through the motions, cleaning you off, checking you for injuries, making sure that you’re alright, but it feels mechanical, like he’s not fully there. You think that if he looked at you with more than just those fleeting glances, he’d be able to see the confusion and hurt written on your face, but he never does.

He does eventually order room service, but you don’t feel like eating much. You’re absentmindedly nibbling on fries, both of your faces turned towards the TV on the opposite wall that he’s turned on for the first time since you arrived two days ago. Nothing that you see really registers, your mind far away, mulling over everything that happened between you, every little interaction, trying to figure out where things went wrong. You just don’t know. How is it possible that you’ve realized only today how much you’ve fallen for him, and meanwhile it seems like he doesn’t want you anymore, at least not in the way that you’ve come to get used to over the past days?

But then, what did the kiss mean? Why would he do that, if he didn’t feel something for you? But if he did, why would he act the way he did today? You’re running in circles and you wish that you were less afraid to just ask him, but you’ve never talked about feelings and you can’t bring yourself to do it now when you’re already terrified that he might have had enough of you.

When he turns off the TV and the lights, you wait until you’re sure that he’s asleep before you let yourself cry. Silently, with your back turned to him, staining your pillow with salty tears, careful not to let any sobs slip out. This is better than nothing, you try reminding yourself. Better than not having him at all. This was the deal from the start. It’s your own fault for getting this attached, for wanting more than you’ve been offered, you know that.

You flinch violently when an arm wraps around your torso from behind, the hand trailing up to touch your cheek, stroking through the wet tracks there.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

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series masterlist

[cloudspotterclub]

reckless (j.p.)

Pairing: james x fem!slytherin!reader

Summary: You tend to keep everyone at arm's length, and they are more than happy to stay there. But not James Potter. It seems he's made it his life's mission to make you miserable, but you're usually able to tolerate his petty jabs. That is, until he pushes it too far and uncovers a truth about you. After that, the secrets just keep tumbling out, and James learns that some cuts can't be undone.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: sooorta enemies to lovers, moderate injuries, cringe banter, slight angst, fluff, ending's a bit meh

a/n: I know I said I might post this in December, but I've just now stopped hating it enough to post it lol I'm sorry!

“Y/L/N.”

“Jesus, Potter!” You startled, scowling when your eyes landed upon the laughing Gryffindor.

James smirked as he looked down the length of the fourth-floor corridor, which was completely deserted. “Aw, what’s wrong? Did the floor clear out the second you stepped in?”

“I know you’re a bit dim, so I’ll spell it out for you. I’m not fond of company, and I came here specifically to avoid the likes of you. Do me a favor and kindly piss off,” you spat, turning back to the book in your hands.

James snatched the book away, strutting around as he obnoxiously read the front cover, “The Philosophy of the Mundane.” He paused, arching his eyebrows. “Hang on a minute, what are you doing with a muggle book?”

You felt your face redden in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance as you stared him down. “It’s not a muggle book. It’s a book about muggles.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Slytherins hate muggle stuff.”

You fought to contain the building frustration within you, knowing James was baiting you. You weren’t going to give in this time.

You got up, walking right up to his chest. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, golden boy.”

The bespectacled boy leaned down, challenging you. “Yeah? What don’t I know?”

You matched his determined glare as you leaned up, your nose barely brushing against his. You allowed your eyes to briefly flick to his lips before meeting his pupils once again. 

“I’d tell you,” you breathed, watching as the daring look began to leave his face.

“But then I’d have to kill you.” You smirked, ripping your book out of his now-lax grip.

“Hey—”

“Don’t tempt me, Potter,” you said boredly as you sat back down on the ledge by the window. “I already want to kill you, it’s just a matter of how soon you force my hand.”

He ignored your threat, sitting across from you in the cramped space. “What was that about, Y/N?”

You pouted your lips sarcastically. “Aw, what’s wrong? Never been flirted with before?”

James shook his head in disbelief, “You were flirting with me?”

You looked at him flatly. “No. Now go away.”

“No, wait, you never answered my question. Why are you reading a book about muggles?”

“Why do you always know where I am? Are you stalking me?” you asked accusingly.

James’ flustered expression was quickly replaced with a cocky grin. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

You groaned, regretting ever trying to engage him at all. You should’ve known James Potter wouldn’t stay rattled for long. “What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone, Potter?”

He clasped his hands behind his head, leaning on the wall behind him. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“You’re Slughorn’s favorite.”

He snorted. “I don’t care about your stupid club.”

“Stop acting so jealous of everyone in it, then,” you shrugged.

“Come on, Y/L/N, stop deflecting,” James puffed out, “why won’t you tell me?”

You stared at him incredulously. “We’re not friends. I don’t owe you anything. And I especially don’t need to be civil with you, so consider it a favor that I haven’t hexed you yet. Leave while I’m feeling courteous.”

A disbelieving expression sat upon James’ face. “You don’t fool me. You wouldn’t risk detention for anything. Too ambitious for your own good, as your fellow Slytherins say.”

His words stung you in a place you’d tried so hard to never let anyone reach. That familiar rage and shame began to build within you.

Your voice shook as you tried your best to conceal your bubbling emotions. “Shut up, Potter.”

His smirk only grew wider. “So, what is it? Plotting the most effective way to murder muggles once you graduate? Got your Dark Mark already, Y/L/N?”

You gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palms. “No.”

James clapped his hands in mock excitement. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve got a soft spot for them now! What did it? Got your eye on a muggle-born, perhaps? No, that can’t be it. The only one you care about is yourself, you’d never care enough to—”

He cut himself off, his mouth hanging open. “Hold on.” The longer he thought about it, the more it made sense. “Are you a muggle-born?”

Fear pulsed through your entire being as James looked upon you in genuine shock. You’d tried so hard to get through school without anyone catching on. You were nearly there—just one year to go and you’d be free from the social hierarchy you’d tried so hard not to play into. Now, everything was ruined because you allowed James to get to you.

Angry, embarrassed tears poured down your cheeks. “You don’t know a thing about me,” you seethed, rushing to gather your belongings.

James’ face dropped as he took in the impact his words had on you. He began to reach for you as you got up. “Y/N, wait, I’m not going to—”

You furiously tore yourself away from him, glaring at him as hard as you could. “I don’t care what you do! Just stay away from me. I mean it.” Your voice quieted as your bottom lip quivered, “You’re a real dickhead, James.”

James was, for once, at a loss for words as he watched your figure storm away.

~

“Oy, Prongs, what’s the matter with you?” Sirius asked, jostling James’ shoulder.

“Huh?”

The long-haired boy frowned. “I asked if you wanted to try that new hex on Snivellus, and you just kept staring out the bloody window. Is Y/N out there or something?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James asked a little more defensively than he’d intended.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “What’s got you so riled up? I just meant you’re always on her case. It’s all you use the map for anymore. Look, I’m all for messing with greensleeves, but she’s a bit of a dull subject. She hardly ever retaliates, and she hasn’t got any friends. Even the other snakes don’t hang around her. Pathetic enough on her own, don’t you think?”

James felt a nagging displeasure in the pit of his stomach. “Knock it off, Sirius.”

It wasn’t often that James felt remorse for his actions, but ever since he’d found you out a week ago, he had trouble feeling anything else. You had looked at him with such fright, as if he was about to attack you. He couldn’t shake the image of your tear-filled face, traces of disappointment evident as you uttered your final words to him. You’d called him worse things before, but you’d never said anything with such hurt and sincerity.

If Sirius responded to him, James didn’t hear it. He haphazardly threw his scarf on as he pushed past his friend. “I need to get some air.”

James briskly walked out of the boys’ dormitories, heading straight for the quidditch field. Maybe he could throw a quaffle around—physical activities usually helped clear his mind. As he made his way past the courtyard, he spotted you slumped beneath the shadow of a tree.

Your knees were curled nearly all the way to your chest, with just enough of a gap left for a book to be propped up against your thighs. James observed that you weren’t really reading it. Your eyes were looking far ahead as you made lazy motions with your wand, absentmindedly growing and shrinking a blade of grass. He took note of the way the other students were seated several meters away from the area you took up.

James ran a hand through his hair, the guilt nibbling away at him once more. This was a new experience for him, one that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. James figured there was nothing a little magic couldn’t fix. He hid himself behind one of the wider columns and stuck his wand out just enough for his spell to hit its intended target.

Your head shot up in confusion as your facial muscles forced their way into a smile. You scanned the courtyard, noticing James’ messy tufts of hair poking out from behind a pillar. Marching your way over there, you tried your best to rearrange your lips into a scowl.

James’ eyes widened as he saw you barreling towards him. Your demented grin was enough to send him running toward his original destination. He knew he was faster than you, but he gravely underestimated your willpower. As he came to a stop just outside the quidditch arena, you crashed into his back, sending the both of you tumbling to the ground.

You used the momentum to pin him down, sitting on his chest as you displayed your unnerving smile over his face. “Potter! Undo this right now!”

James bit back a chuckle as he fished for his wand. “Sorry, Y/L/N, didn’t think it’d turn out so psychotic.” He lightly tapped the corner of your mouth, sending relief throughout your face as you regained control of it.

You rubbed at your jaw, frowning down at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, I thought you could use a little cheer. You were looking miserable out there.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “I wonder why. Look, will you stop torturing me and just get it over with?”

“What are you on about?” James furrowed his eyebrows, eyes darting to where your body met his. “You want me to kiss you or something?”

“No, you daft pig!” You reeled, hastily scurrying off of him. “I meant you should stop dangling my fate in front of me and just expose me to everyone already.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows. “What? Is that what you thought I was going to do?”

“Yes? Why else would you have been avoiding me all week? You’re taunting me, and you know what? It’s working. So just take your win.”

James cringed a little as he uttered his next words. “I was avoiding you because I felt bad. You looked so freaked out when I asked if you were a muggle-born. I was never going to tell anyone.”

You stood up, taking a few cautious steps away from him. “Don’t play games with me, Potter.”

“Blimey, Y/L/N, you really do have trust issues.”

“Forgive me if I’m hesitant to believe the boy that planted dungbombs in my bag for a whole term.”

James sighed, tugging at his curls. “Fine, don’t believe me. You’ll feel real stupid when you realize I was telling the truth.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I already feel stupid giving you a chance.”

“It’s a natural urge.” The boy shrugged, getting up and dusting off his pants. “Want to fly around?”

“What? Hey—” James grabbed your forearm, pulling you into the quidditch arena. “Potter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He picked out two broomsticks, throwing one at you. “Making you trust me.”

~

“JAMES POTTER, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

James snickered, paying no mind to your horrified expression cast towards the ground, which was now about fifty meters below you. You had been hesitant to get on the broom in the first place—flying wasn’t really your forte—but James promised he only wanted to show you the goalposts up close. To your horror, the second you reached them, he knotted your brooms together and rocketed up into the open air.

His cackles rang in your ears, as did the growing wind. Your hands tightened around the broomstick’s handle, knuckles paling along with your face. After the initial adrenaline rush, you had been rendered silent by the overwhelming fear of plummeting to the ground.

As James got the last few laughs out of his system, he looked over to see your petrified face still staring downward. “Uh, earth to Y/L/N?”

You didn’t respond, eyes glued to the barely-visible field below you.

James’ eyes flitted towards your hands, shaking with the force with which you were gripping your broomstick. Again, he was hit with that annoying sense of guilt that had been plaguing him since your last encounter. He wished desperately for that feeling to go away.

He hesitantly placed a hand on your broomstick, causing your head to snap up towards him. He was struck a little by the intensity of your gaze—not hateful or upset, but pleading.

James offered you a clunky smile, quietly saying, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Although your grip relaxed ever so slightly, you still didn’t respond.

James frowned, that horrible feeling intensifying. “I’m sorry I lied. I really thought you’d like it up here.” He paused. “I should probably stop assuming things about you, huh?”

You gave him a small nod, slightly perturbed at the strange gentleness in his voice. “Yeah. You should.”

To say James was acting unusual would be an understatement. Since when did he care whether you were comfortable? You looked from his hold on your broomstick to the lines between his eyebrows. Something was definitely off.

“Do you want me to get us back down?”

Your face contorted in surprise and confusion. “Really?”

James gave a small, breathy laugh, shifting his eyes away from you. “Don’t look at me like that, Y/L/N. I’d really like for you to trust me.”

You weren’t sure if it was the high altitude or the new shyness in James’ voice, but you were beginning to feel dizzy.

You blinked at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” James tugged at his hair, gaze still averted. “Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve been an ass to you. I know you don’t think I’m capable of it, but I am trying to be a better person. And that includes not making your day harder than it needs to be.”

You considered this. “So…I’m some obstacle to tackle in your quest to be all self-righteous?”

“What? No, that’s not at all what I’m saying. Y/N, I sincerely want us to be on good terms.”

You narrowed your eyes, reminded of your conversation the week before. “Is this some hero complex thing? Befriend the lonely Slytherin mudblood so you can look big in front of all your friends?”

James was hit with unexpected hurt. Though he figured he deserved it, he hadn’t realized just how deep his actions had affected you before. The overwhelming shame he felt was only eclipsed by his intense desire to reassure you that he didn’t think so lowly of you. That you didn’t deserve to have anyone make you feel that way. That your pained expression made him want to do all he could to stop you from feeling that way again.

“Y/N, please,” his voice strained, “you have to know that’s not how I see you. I—I’m sorry that I’ve messed up so many times and so badly that you may never believe a word out of my mouth, but—” James stopped himself. But what?

The second you saw James’ face crumble, you knew you were wrong to accuse him of using you.

You waited expectantly for him to go on, trying to control the thoughts threatening to overtake you. You weren’t sure there was anything he could say that would get you to let your guard down. You were determined not to let him weaponize your vulnerability again.

Then again, you’d never see him so distraught. So desperate for you to understand. The soft voice, the wounded expression—you couldn’t tell if it was a performance. Either way, it affected you in a way that you didn’t like one bit.

James took another glance at your stony expression, and any hope he’d had that he could fix things with you died within him.

He hung his head, quietly uttering, “Nevermind. I’m sorry. I’ll take you back down.”

As James guided your broomsticks towards the ground, you felt an odd sense of disappointment. While you were confident it was pointless to hear him out, a small part of you was curious to hear what he had to say.

An even smaller part of you wished your moment in the air wouldn’t end so quickly.

Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he really did want to be friends.

Your head spun at the thought. Not because it was so outlandish—truthfully, you occasionally did enjoy the banter you had. Perhaps your unease was because the thought of you being proper friends was…disappointing.

You’d been feeling disappointed often lately, but never in this way.

Although body was turned away from him, his face flashed into your mind.

You’re okay. I’ve got you.

You flushed recalling his soft-spoken words when he made a genuine effort to comfort you.

Dread filled you. Could you actually have feelings for—

“Mr. Potter! Ms. Y/L/N! Detention!”

~

The air was tight with tension as you navigated the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. While you were unnerved by the mysterious echoes bouncing off of the looming trees and shadows that seemed to move every time you looked, you were more bothered by the frost that had formed between you and James.

Madam Hooch stopped abruptly, clapping her hands together. “Right! We’ll settle here, then. This is where I saw a few rogue broomsticks crash the other day. I want the two of you to find all three.”

You eyed the seemingly desolate patch of dead leaves and mossy boulders around you, nervously biting your lip.

James took notice of your stilted demeanor, hating that he’d subjected you to yet another awful experience.

He cleared his throat, speaking up, “Madam Hooch, I think it’d be much more sensible to have us search when the sun’s out, don’t you think? Besides, I’ve got a quidditch match tomorrow and I know you hate to see unrested players on the field.”

The flying instructor didn’t budge. “You should’ve considered that before using school-owned broomsticks and flying around the quidditch arena without permission. I’m surprised you don’t think yourself capable of this simple task, Mr. Potter. As a show of trust, I’ll be waiting just outside the forest. Shoot off a signal if anything happens.”

With that, she took off towards the castle, leaving you with two lanterns and a frustrated James.

He tugged at his hair, kicking at the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Again.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you watched his shoulders hunch. With the way he tried to bargain with Hooch, you thought he’d returned to his usual cockiness. But here he was, avoiding your gaze again.

You shook off your thoughts, picking up a lantern. “Nevermind that. Let’s just find those broomsticks and get out of here.”

James quietly obeyed, walking behind you as you led the way deeper into the forest.

As the minutes went on, the silence between you was making you jumpier than the ominous howls that seemed to follow you.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You snuck a look back at James, who was still walking with his head down.

This is ridiculous. You hate his stupid, squeaky voice. His unintelligent remarks. His insensitive insults. You hate him.

But right then, you hated the quiet even more.

You stopped. “Um, Potter?”

James nearly ran into you, looking up at the last second. “Shit, sorry. Did you find a broomstick?”

“No, just…are you alright?”

Your question took James by surprise, and he found himself smiling idiotically at you for the hundredth time that day. “I’m alright, thanks.”

You nodded, resuming your trek. “You were being real quiet. Thought you had died or something.”

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. “I assure you I wouldn’t go quietly. You’d know if I was dying.”

“Good,” you teased, “because I’d hate to miss it.”

James lightly bumped your shoulder, small smiles on both your faces.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to let him in just yet, but you were certain you were enjoying whatever this was. You figured this was as good a time as any to get some answers.

“Hey, James? Why do you hate Slytherins?”

He frowned, shrugging. “I don’t. I just pick on Snape because he’s such a dick to muggle-borns.”

Your eyes widened. “But he’s always been cordial with me.”

James scowled. “Because he doesn’t know you’re a muggle-born.” Noticing the discomfort on your face, his voice softened, “He’ll never find out as long as we’re at Hogwarts. I swear.”

You stared into James’ hazel eyes, finding nothing but sincerity behind them. His gaze bore into you, communicating far more than his restrained words allowed him to. It was like a vice that you didn’t want to be released from.

“Thank you,” you breathed, forcing yourself to look at the path ahead.

James tilted his head, keeping pace with you. “You’re not going to ask why I picked on you too?”

You chuckled humorlessly, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. We’re in rival houses and I’m an easy target. It’s not like you were the first.”

“What? No, hold on—”

You sucked in a sharp breath as James lightly grabbed your shoulders, turning you towards him.

“Y/N, that is not why I picked on you.” He tugged at his dark locks. “I mean, maybe at first. Sirius and I kind of went off on any Slytherin we could mess with during first and second year. It was dumb and I regret that immensely.”

James squeezed your shoulders, taking a small step forward. “But I continued to seek you out for…other reasons. Reasons that I don’t think I was even aware of until last week. When I was a complete dickhead. When I thought I’d done irreparable damage—that put a lot of things in perspective.”

Your heart pounded harshly in your chest. His words and the heat radiating off of him were making it hard to think. “James, you don’t mean…”

James took another step closer to you, forcing you to look up to see his face, which was now hovering just inches above yours.

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I think I do. Y/N, I—”

A loud growl interrupted James.

You both turned to see a large, gray wolf baring its teeth at you just a few meters away.

Your breath caught in your throat. You’d never seen a wolf that size before, at least not in the muggle world. It was easily two meters tall, with bulky muscles beneath every inch of matted fur.

While you struggled to react, James quickly pushed you behind him, shielding you as best as he could behind his larger frame.

“Y/N, signal Madam Hooch,” he commanded, though his voice was still low and tender.

You scrambled to shoot off a burst of light from your wand, which traveled up into the sky and towards the castle.

“Good, now listen to me,” he whispered, “I’m going to distract it while you run as fast as you can back to the castle, okay?”

“What? James, there’s no way you can outrun that thing—”

“Please,” he begged, looking into your eyes. “You might see me do something odd, but I don’t want you to stick around to question it. You need to run the second I tell you to. The second. Understand?”

His authoritative tone left you speechless, only able to nod.

“Okay,” he took a long inhale, “three…two…one…run!”

You took off as quickly as your feet could take you, but you were able to glimpse the scene you were fleeing long enough to see what James was talking about.

Standing in the spot where James had been was a large, brown stag.

Your pace slowed for just a second as it dawned on you.

He was an animagus.

You didn’t have much time to process this new information, desperately running in the direction you came. Whatever his plan was, James wasn’t going to hold his own against a giant wolf for long. You needed to get Madam Hooch before it was too late.

Your lungs burned as you blazed through muddy ground and jumped over fallen branches, your only thought being James. If something did happen to him, you didn’t know what you’d do.

You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t.

Just as the edges of the Forbidden Forest came into view, so did Madam Hooch. You frantically led her towards the spot where you’d left James, panting as you explained how the wolf had appeared.

As you arrived back at the scene, you saw the animal readying itself to swipe at the stag it had pinned to the ground.

“Y/N, you find James and bring him here. I’ll drive the wolf away,” Madam Hooch instructed, chasing the creature away from the clearing with a powerful spell.

The moment they disappeared from view, you rushed to the stag. In mere seconds, it transformed back into the Gryffindor boy, but something was horribly wrong.

You gasped, dropping to your knees as you looked over the cuts and bruises littering James’ body. A cut on his temple trailed blood down his face, and the area around one of his eyes was purple. Your breathing quickened as you saw the extent of his injuries, the worst being two deep gashes across his chest. “James. Oh my god.”

He gave you a pained chuckle, voice hoarse. “Surprise. Sorry for lying to you again.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “That’s—that’s not funny. James, we’ve got to go.”

He groaned as he attempted to push himself up, his arms immediately giving out the second his back was off the ground. You slid yourself under him, allowing his head to fall into your lap instead of the forest floor.

James winced through a smile. “Jeez, Y/L/N, if I knew this was all it took to get you close to me, I would’ve gotten hurt much sooner.”

Your mind was fractured, overwhelmed and unable to form a coherent thought. “What?”

“C’mon, love,” he coughed, spitting out blood. “You must know I like you by now. Or do I need to go fight off another wolf?”

The hopeful look on his face was like a knife in your gut, and it was enough for you to burst into tears.

“James, I—you didn’t have to do that! God, I never should’ve left you,” you cried, bringing a shaking hand up to stroke his cheek. Your other hand entangled itself with his, squeezing hard. “I’m so sorry.”

James grinned, leaning into your touch. “Don’t be. What matters is you came back for me.”

“Did you think I would leave you here, you git?” you half-laughed, half-sobbed.

“Nah, like you said,” he took a labored breath, his voice cracking, “you’d hate to miss me dying, right?”

You shook your head, tears spilling out even faster. “No. No, that’s not going to happen. I’ll kill you if you die on me now, Potter. Just focus on your breathing, James, please.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out another low moan of pain. “I’m trying.”

Your grip on him tightened. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Just then, Madam Hooch returned and immediately levitated James’ nearly-limp form, hurrying the both of you back to the castle. You were numb the whole jog back, only able to stare ahead as Madam Pomfrey tended to him.

“What was that boy thinking, trying to fight off a wolf?” Madam Hooch tutted, shaking her head. “He’s a brave one, but I’m glad you had the sense to run, Ms. Y/L/N. Consider yourselves exempt from further punishment. But don’t let me catch you on the field unauthorized again.”

With a pat on the shoulder, she left the hospital wing.

As you zoned out, you were interrupted by a commotion.

“Mr. Potter, settle down!”

“No, where is she?! Y/N!” James shouted, limbs flailing as he attempted to launch himself off the bed.

You quickly made your way over to him, watching as he stopped fighting and sank back into the mattress. “James, I’m right here. I’m okay.”

He sighed, reaching for your hand. You entwined your fingers once more as you slid onto the small chair by the bed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, turning to Madam Pomfrey, “can she please stay? I might throw another tantrum otherwise.”

“You children will be the death of me.” She frowned, finishing up with his now-bandaged chest. “Don’t get any funny ideas or I’ll throw you both out.”

You turned back to James as she walked back to her desk. His face was considerably less pale, but one of his eyes was still nearly swollen shut. You could feel yourself beginning to tear up again as everything hit you all at once.

James frowned, squeezing your hand. “Can I get through one day without making you upset?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. How do you feel?”

“Awful. The girl I like doesn’t like me back,” he joked, though his delivery faltered.

You looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “First off, that’s not what I meant. Second, you’re an idiot if you think I’m sat here crying over you and holding your hand because I pity you.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust my instincts at all with you. You’ve made me feel so many nasty emotions this past week.” He began counting them off his fingers. “Guilty for disappointing you, ashamed for hurting you, and insecure for liking you.”

You giggled. “Good. You deserve to be as conflicted as I’ve been.”

“What did you have to be conflicted about?”

“I thought I hated you. No, I definitely hated you while I thought you were going to tell everyone I was a muggle-born.” You smiled. “But you didn’t. And then you were nice to me. Granted, your idea of ‘nice’ could use some work, but still. When we were up on those broomsticks, I started to wish there wasn’t so much animosity between us. And then in the forest, I realized I liked having you around. A lot. And then when the wolf attacked—I just knew I couldn’t lose you yet.”

James was smiling so hard, his lip was beginning to split open again. “Fuck, Y/L/N, either I’m about to pass out or you’re making me swoon.”

You shoved his shoulder. “Not funny. I don’t know how you can joke like that when you literally almost died.”

James chuckled, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I don’t know how much longer I can sit here waiting for the girl I fancy to tell me she likes me too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Back up, Potter. I think I have the right to grill you first.”

“About what?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re an animagus!”

James cringed, averting his eyes. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d forget about that by now.”

“Because you’re unregistered?”

He shot you a look. “What do you think?”

“You could end up in Azkaban for that!”

“I’m far too skilled at getting away with things.”

“Clearly,” you said, thinking back to all the times he successfully sweet-talked professors into getting out of trouble. “How’d you learn to transform?”

“A lot of trial and error. Took me a couple years.”

“How long have you been able to do it?”

“Since fifth year.”

Your mouth hung open. “That’s…kind of incredible. Hold on, are all of you animagi? You, Remus, Sirius, and Peter?”

James hesitated. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Right. Okay, do you have any other wild secrets I should know about?”

A smile crept onto his face. “Maybe. But I can’t possibly tell you everything right this moment. Gotta keep things interesting.”

Your brows furrowed. “Fine. As long as none of these other secrets get you killed.”

James’ thumb grazed the back of your hand. “The agony of waiting for you to tell me how you feel will kill me far sooner than any of my secrets, Y/L/N.”

You sighed. “Honestly, James, could you be any more melodramatic?”

“My melodrama is what kept us alive. Who else would be stupid enough to fight a wolf to save a damsel in distress?”

“Well, I’m not about to argue that you’re not stupid.” In spite of your light tone, the heaviness in the pit of your stomach remained.

James was right. If he hadn’t thrown himself at the wolf, you never would’ve come away from the encounter unharmed. His inflated ego definitely contributed to that decision, but it was a selfless act nonetheless. One he’d done for your sake.

You scanned his battered face, his relentless optimism shining through his features. You used to think this expression was a smug display, a symptom of his belief that he’d come out on top in any situation. But now, his wide eyes and faint smile held no sense of self-assuredness. Rather, they were brimming with tentative hope.

You cleared your throat, wiping the remaining tear tracks from your face. “Let’s get a few things straight. First of all, I am not a damsel in distress. I am perfectly capable of handling myself under normal circumstances. The only reason you had to step in today was because I do not normally get myself into such ridiculous predicaments. You got us into this because of your recklessness. Can we agree on that?”

James nodded. “Definitely an accurate assessment.”

“Right. Which brings me to my next point.” A breath. “Obviously, I care for you too. And I really would like to give us a chance, but,” your voice softened, “you’re reckless with a lot more than just hexes and broomsticks, James.”

James’ smile faltered, the implication of your words clear. He sat up, shifting towards you. “You’re right. I thought our exchanges were all in good fun, but I realize what were jokes to me were deeply hurtful attacks to you. I didn’t mean for them to be, which just goes to show how ignorant I can be. I know I can’t take it all back, but I am sorry for all the harm I’ve inflicted on you.”

His hazel eyes searched yours for a brief moment before he gingerly took your face in his hands. “But if you’ll allow it, I will try my hardest to make it up to you. I want to be someone you can trust not to break your heart.”  You shivered as his thumb ghosted over your cheek. “I’ve never been trusted with anything precious, but I’d like to be worthy of you.”

You were rendered speechless at his earnest declaration. So, instead of replying, you closed the small distance between your lips. James instantly reciprocated, his hands squeezing your waist as he deepened your kiss. Your own hands tangled in his hair, tugging as he lightly nipped you.

You pulled away, slightly dazed. “What are we doing? We’re in the hospital wing!”

“I’m sorry, love. I meant what I said, but I’ve got to keep some of the mischief in my life.” You let out a small shriek as he suddenly pulled you onto his lap. His lips brushed against your ear, “You’re quite the temptation, Y/L/N.”

You were certain your face was beet red, but you couldn’t help the breathy giggle that escaped you. “You are a piece of work, Potter.”

He planted a kiss on your temple, sturdy arms secured around you. “I know.”

Another irritatingly cheeky smile was plastered across his face.

But for the first time, you were looking forward to being the reason for that smile.

[dorkagedoodles]

And there we have it folks - the end of Empyrean Book I! I sound like a parrot but just ... thank you so much for reading! Also, for everyone's convenience, the afterword is also in text under the "keep reading" bellow. <<< PREVIOUS ✧˖☆˖✧˖☆˖✧Page Archive✧˖☆˖✧˖☆˖✧

(To be continued ... ) AFTERWORD

I’ve been putting off writing this for way too long, thinking I have plenty of time until suddenly: BAM! December was upon me and the final update of Empyrean Book I was uploaded while I had the worst migraine in years and couldn’t even scramble together a last minute afterword. But here we go. I’ll try not to care about sounding professional or eloquent, just so I can get it done.

First I want to say a big thank you to everyone who've read Empyrean, all the way through or just a little bit, I’m grateful nonetheless. And extra big thank you to everyone who’s left comments or nice tags in the reblogs etc. I’m awful at responding, but I’ve seen them all and really, really appreciate it.

I worked on the book on and off for three years and I’m pretty happy with the end result. Of course, this is just the beginning of the story. I have an outline for the whole thing, aiming for a total of four books of similar length which will, as you can guess, take a loooooong time. Which brings me to my second point.

Empyrean will go on hiatus for the time being. For how long? I wish I knew. While Book 2 is all scripted and currently in the sketching stage, I have no idea when I’ll have enough finished pages for an update. Once I do, however, I’ll probably update as I finish the pages, rather than wait for the whole book to be complete.

I don’t think I need to explain much of why this is. It’s simply being an adult. It’s having rent, bills and a cat with special dietary needs. And what Empyrean brings in joy it certainly doesn’t bring in money, so ever since July I’ve drawn almost nothing but freelance work.

Despite that, I still feel positive about the future of Empyrean. It’s already been published in parts in a small Swedish magazine and I’ve met people and opened doors that would have been impossible, had I not created Empyrean. Long time followers might remember how I’ve long wanted to be able to support myself by making art. And right now? That's exactly what I’m doing.

Finishing Empyrean will take many years and, in the end, it might never even get picked up by a publisher. But I’m at peace with both of those things. I draw Empyrean entirely for myself and would continue to do so even if not a single other person was reading it. Though … as long as there’s at least one such person I will keep uploading it too!

Lastly, I’ve been looking into self-publishing and hope to give that a try. No solid plans yet, just counting costs, looking at kickstarters and such. I’m currently neck-deep in a big project, but once that’s over I can start thinking about it again. When the time comes, I will of course post about it.

I think that is all. It got a bit longer and ramblier than I planned but oh well.

Again, thank you so much for reading Empyrean! And until next time! -Hans