#if anyone wants to discuss any of this PLEASE hit me up

[tiara-thief]

knight squad: if we had a 4 season run

i’ve been thinking a lot of thoughts about how amazing knight squad would have been with a proper four season run. i don’t think i would ever have the energy to write a full fanfic, but it’s been five years since the show’s conclusion, so i wanted to share some of my ideas. here’s a 2k outline on how i think the plot could have gone:

season 1

season 1 is already pretty god-tier in my opinion, so i wouldn’t change much! i think they covered a lot in terms of character and relationship development, and did a great job building an interesting plot that tied back in the finale.

one of the things i would change though is the whole presentation of ciara/princess, and how it’s done through her hair. i’ve seen some discussion about it floating around before, so some of y’all probably know where i’m getting at with this. i don’t know if it was intentional, but the implications of her straightened/relaxed hair being part of what makes her elegant is really questionable  to me and i do find it racist. i do like her loose curls for ciara because being ciara is when she gets to let loose and be who she really is. but for the princess, i think they really could have done another style like braids, or have her hair tied up in a bun to represent how she is holding herself back, or have her hair wrapped. i also think they could have incorporated other ways to show the difference between the princess and ciara that don’t rely on hair – facial markings/face paint for the royal family, or the princess covers her face with a face veil.

also just. give her a name!!! for the fanfic writers if not for anyone else. i know it’s a kid’s show and they probably didn’t want to make it too confusing or something, but also kids are not that dumb.

in terms of character, in the show, arc adapts to being part of a team really well. personally, i would have drawn that out, and had a plot where arc needs to get used to being on a team after being a lone wolf for so long and learning how to trust the others to have his back. i think the writers almost went in that direction, because in the pilot when the phoenix squad is assigned to fight the stone knight, arc tells them to step back and says he has it, and ciara says “but we’re supposed to be a team!” but he ignores her. and it works out okay that time, but i expected it to come back later and it was just dropped. so this is something i would have developed over the course of the season, and then everyone coming together to save him from ryker in the season finale being the culmination of him realizing he has people to watch his back now and he isn’t alone.

season 2

okay so you know how i kept most of season 1? yeah we’re doing the opposite for season 2. we’re throwing pretty much all of it out. yEET. prudy and warwick are not going to find out right at the beginning of the season, we’re not getting the ciara and sage relationship development quite yet, no one is getting knighted, and there’s no weird superhero episode with trolls that are   antisemitic caricatures.

however, there will be more plots centered around prudy and warwick. we get to see more of prudy’s giant background, and warwick struggling to live up to his family name and what being a magical wizard means. so there are episodes like the election episode and the one with warwick’s dad.

at the same time, we get more of the relationships in the phoenix squad, and arc and ciara will also start to realize how hard it is keeping their secrets from their best friends. they have some really close calls when it comes to balancing their secrets with their friendships.

arc and ciara also start having some romantic development in the latter half of the season, but it happens subtly. like people thinking they’re a couple leading to awkward denial, seeing the other dressed up for an event and having that “whoa” moment, being unusually jealous or protective, etc.

okay i really want an episode where there’s just a shit ton of miscommunication and the princess accidentally agrees to a date with warwick and he’s over the moon but ciara is panicking because she can’t break his heart while arc’s pretending he isn’t jealous

A TRUTH SPELL EPISODE. sort of combining both of the two big threads this season. arc gets hit by a truth spell by accident and they have to wait for it to wear off and it leads to all sort of chaos as arc and ciara try to make sure their secrets don’t get out so ciara is just covering his mouth and trying to make excuses. and then, at the end of the episode, he’s alone with prudy and warwick who have caught on that arc does have a secret and they’re grilling him, and he blurts out that he has feelings for ciara, which even he didn’t realize until he said it. the spell finally wears off and prudy and warwick are shocked enough to let him go, and he runs off only to bump into ciara (who had been called away for a princess-related thing), and she’s apologizing to him for having to leave him alone and asks if he revealed anything important to anyone, and he’s just like “....no.”

midway through the season, we also begin building up to the next overarching plot. it might be interesting to focus a bit on astorian court politics, which leads to the reveal of an internal conspiracy to take down dragonbloods and take over the throne. (note: the leader of this conspiracy was the one behind ciara’s mother being taken away.) sort of leads to the realization of how messed up it is that only dragonbloods have power in astoria. the season finale has them facing off against this antagonist, and they win, but the antagonist runs away.

warwick and prudy find out about arc and ciara’s secrets at the end of the season!

also sage and buttercup are canon. because this is my plot outline and i say so.

season 3

this season begins with warwick and prudy learning what it means to be secret keepers, even though they’re struggling a bit. arc and ciara and understandably frustrated, but when it matters, warwick and prudy do come through, and they get better about it over time.

warwick and prudy are also trying to figure out their roles on the team, especially as they feel like they’re the weaker links. 

meanwhile, ciara is stepping into her role as the princess and trying to force actual change regarding the dragonblood laws in astoria, having learned from the events of last season.

arc is supporting her, but he’s also starting to feel a bit homesick. we get at least a couple episodes centered around seagate when phoenix squad takes a trip to his hometown which is in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of ryker. they get caught up in a pirate plot!

they also discover that ryker’s army hasn’t entirely been dissolved, and some of them still hope to bring ryker back. 

arc and ciara starting to have some legit romantic development as they realize their feelings. throw in a fake dating episode because it would be cute. they also kiss at least once during this development period - for quest purposes of course, and it’s “completely platonic” (it isn’t, both feel things). both of them are too scared of ruining their relationship as friends to pursue more though, and they’re worried about how it would affect their team.

prudy and warwick do not think their squad will be affected and are very much rooting for this!!!

ciara also starts becoming friends with sage (although they would never admit it)! bonding as the princess, and respecting her more as a classmate. phoenix squad and kraken squad work together more often.

despite their attempts to prevent it, last season’s antagonist returns and helps bring ryker back. the villains team up, vowing to not just take over astoria, but destroy it. 

the season ends with astoria learning about the danger of ryker coming back and needing more knights, so phoenix squad, kraken squad, and unicorn squad are all knighted. ciara passes her laws against dragonbloods being the only ones allowed to be knights, and their secrets come out to the kingdom.

arc and ciara’s relationship development also reaches the natural conclusion and they officially become a couple after a scare during the final battle where they realize they could have lost each other.

season 4

season four shifts a bit in vibes because all the secrets are out and everyone has officially been knighted, so ideally we would have gotten some fancier new set locations

phoenix squad and kraken squad are officially knighted, but that doesn’t prevent their rivalry. however, this leads to issues, and they quickly realize they’re no longer in training and they genuinely need to have each other’s backs.

arc and ciara are also adjusting to working together while dating. they’re both really protective and keep trying to look out for each other on the battlefield, and it leads to some slip ups at first because they feel like they’re out of sync and maybe they worked better as friends. but they ultimately realize they help make each other better, and fighting together becomes even better because they’ll always have each other’s backs

we bring in the plot with ciara’s mom - eliza comes back with evidence that their mother is still alive and out there. phoenix squad follows up on the lead, and eventually they find her mother and bring her home. however, their mother doesn’t remember anything which is why she never came back even after she escaped her confinement, so they have to find a way to bring her memories back.

but is everything as it seems? ciara is unsure her mother is the same woman she remembers. she catches her mother sneaking out, and she worries that her mother has turned traitor. but it’s revealed that her mother is actually protecting a secret - a dragon egg, for the last dragon in astoria.

pet dragon for the squad!!! it imprints the most on ciara and sage, and they grudgingly co-parent. arc and buttercup are definitely not jealous of their partners spending so much time together (they absolutely are).

slobwick also hates the baby dragon for taking his place as beloved adorable pet. however slobwick is an evil furby and we should not feel bad for him.

fizzwick has begun training as a knight with his own squad! prudy and warwick end up teaching every now and then (as do the others at times, but this is mostly for them), and they are determined to be good role models. however, they have no idea how to keep up with the Kids These Days, and end up learning some things about valuing themselves and their own self-worth.

also, prudence and warwick do get their own romantic plots during this time! whether they stick around or are minor remains the question….

meanwhile, the ryker plot continues to develop, leading to some dramatic, escalating clashes. this time, ciara believes they need to work more with the other five kingdoms. we return to seagate, as well as visit other locations and have other kingdom representatives come to astoria for a summit meeting. there are lots of disagreements, and ends up one kingdom is working against them, their ruler being a puppet who is actually the astorian court official from season 2. at the end of the day, the remaining four realize they must unite to bring peace.

the series conclusion ends with a dramatic final battle working with the other squads and kingdoms as they take down ryker and the other antagonist once and for all, restoring peace. 

close out on phoenix squad, reaffirming their promise to always be there for each other and protect the kingdom as they look forward to the future.

[ellecdc]

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and then fury when he realised what he had done, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done. 

There was nothing to be done. 

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least. 

Everything about Sirius was wrong.

There was nothing to be done. 

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home had faded into shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated. 

Sirius began to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill. 

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night. 

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him. 

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.” 

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.” 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.” 

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack. 

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside. 

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away. 

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.” 

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you aiming your wand in his direction, surprising a sarcastic laugh from him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed. 

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother. 

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still colouring his cheeks courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are."

He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other. 

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail. 

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.” 

“Stop.” 

“Then get up.” 

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.” 

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.” 

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom. 

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.” 

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.” 

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was. 

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner. 

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned. 

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform. 

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still dripping wet as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended. 

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them “taking sides”, he didn’t seem too bothered watching Sirius get iced out. 

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated. 

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door. 

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed. 

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe. 

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle. 

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him. 

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiked the bag you packed for him over your shoulder, and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance. 

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.” 

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone. 

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there. 

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too. 

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence. 

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother. 

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him. That was what he had wanted.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic. 

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look. 

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even manage to see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t. 

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue. 

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him. 

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want… 

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus spat before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall. 

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length. 

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible. 

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then. 

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse. 

And he learned that from one of his best friends; Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends. 

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks stretching from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him. 

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak. 

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago. 

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane. 

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing. 

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone. 

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end. 

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus. 

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter. 

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around. 

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either. 

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table. 

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened. 

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his. 

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze. 

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.” 

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and you looked up in time to see Remus finally look down into his lap. 

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own. 

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him. 

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything. 

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him. 

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.” 

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.” 

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?” 

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly. 

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him. 

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.” 

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly. 

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.” 

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things that he could crush in the palm of his hands if only he could catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.” 

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him. I can't hate him.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous. 

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you. 

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?” 

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.” 

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.” 

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you. 

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.” 

“You’re forgiven, Remus.” 

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain. 

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live. 

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure. 

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. 

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you. 

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.” 

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.” 

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first genuine smile since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.” 

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles. 

You simply hummed noncommittally. 

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently. 

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.” 

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

[nervoussagittarius]

to win or not to win

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris and his girlfriend do a twitch stream together and compete at who’s the better fortnite player, request

warnings: fluffy, language

it wasn’t unusual for you and chris to get into friendly competitions. most of them ended in a temper tantrum from one of you, but they were innocent nonetheless.

todays topic of discussion was ‘whos the better fortnite player’. although chris had been playing for a significant amount of time longer than you, you were sure you could hold your own. especially, because chris was the one to teach you how to play.

you both we’re confident in your skills, so the only logical way to decide was to take it to twitch and let the viewers watch the showdown.

“okay guys so here’s what’s happening today. y/n and i are having the fortnite championship and you guys are here to witness” chris said as he took the seat next to you. a very serious look was etched on his face

you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that said ‘really?’

“while we wait for mr. dramatic to calm down i’ll tell you why we’re really here. chris thinks he’s better at fortnite then me.” you said. there was a slight pause before both of you broke into laughter and fell into eachother.

you continued as chris placed his head on your shoulder and watched the chat, “i don’t think chris is better a fortnite then me. so we’re gonna play a few rounds and see who has the best outcomes.”

“yeah so basically we’re gonna be playing 3 rounds, and when we finish we’re going to see who had the overall higher placings.” chris explained.

“that’s quite literally what i just said. thank you for repeating me, love”

“that’s quite literally what i just fucking said” chris mimicked as he poked your side to agitate you.

“stop it” you said giggling, trying to slap his hand away from you.

chris had the split screen set up on his pc. it was a tight fit but you guys were going to make it work. this argument needed to be settled.

the first two games went smoothly. trash talk was being thrown and so were elbows. you both didn’t mind playing dirty. lines had been crossed to many times to count, but it was all in fun.

“it all comes down to this, ma. so far we each have a first and second place finish” chris said cracking his knuckles. no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t intimidating anyone.

the game went smoothly for a while. you were both able to get through with out any scratches. it was down to the last ten when chris noticed you leg start bouncing in anticipation and nervousness.

as much as chris hated to admit it, he didn’t want to see you lose. he loved seeing how excited you got whenever you win a competition between the two of you, and this was a game chris was willing to throw.

chris looked at you, then at the game before him, then back at you. he could see the distress on your face and he hated it.

“dude i don’t even fucking know where these guys are coming from!” you exclaimed as you started firing random shots to try to hit someone.

you guys were now in the final four. chris made his way over to your character and quickly took out one on the guys shooting at you. you were able to get the other one out not long after that.

“oh fuck chris. please don’t shoot. please don’t shoot. please” you repeat over and over as you tried to get the perfect aim on chris’s player. without warning chris pretended to fumble his controller, dropping it to the ground.

“oh shit!”

this gave you the perfect opportunity to kill chris’s character and win the game and the overall competition between the two of you.

“yes!” you yelled as you threw your arms up and jumped out of your chair.

“oh my fuck. no chance. i just fucking won.”

you did a celebratory lap around chris’s room. chris winked at the camera and held his finger up to his lips telling the chat to not spoil the fact that she is let you win. when you made it back to him you held his face in your hands.

he looked up at you as you said, “you we’re good. simply just not good enough.” you leaned down to place a short peck on his lips and held out your hand for him to shake. he instead grabbed your hand pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“you know chris, me winning really just proves how good you are at fortnite because you taught me everything i know”

chris groaned in joking frustration as he nuzzled his head into the crook of you neck. he placed soft kisses around the area as you watched the chat congratulate your win.

chris finally picked his head up, “thank you guys so much for watching me get my ass kicked by my girlfriend i-”

“kinky.” you interrupted.

“okay that’s it” chris stood up, picking you up by your waist at the same time. he walked over to his bed and gently threw you down. swiftly, he ran back over to his desk chair, taking a seat.

“as i was saying, thanks for watching and we’ll see you again soon”

“bye!” you said blowing a kiss to the camera.

an: this one’s cute. i didn’t want it to seem identical to matt’s so i hope y’all enjoy it🤍

[gilverrwrites]

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”  

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued. 

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

[split-spectrum]

Heat Sick

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Length: 3.5K (One-off)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content - minors DNI. noncon elements including nonconsensual voyeurism, master/padawan kink, age gap (no ages expressly mentioned and no description of reader), power imbalance, masturbation, angst, guilt kink

Description: While on a mission with your master to uncover an assassination plot, you forget to turn off your security cam. Obi Wan sees more than he's ready to confront, and feels more than he's ready to withstand.

☆☆☆

"We will discuss this later."

"Master, can we not trade one more day of the war for this? Just one day?"

Obi Wan lets his eyes widen as he turns to face you in disbelief. "Young one, the decision is not ours to make. The sooner you learn that and make peace with it, the better."

"Perhaps I could stay behind. Just me. I could ask the council-"

He nods to the ambassador and stands, lowering his tone to you as the rest of the room leaves. "You will pack your things, and we will be on our way tomorrow."

As you follow him down the hall to your respective rooms, Obi Wan makes a concerted effort to keep his shoulders low and his pace steady. Letting his irritation show would do no good for either of you.

No - he thinks - not quite irritation. It stings more than that.

You've been ready for the trials for some time, and the only thing keeping you from completing them is your overloaded schedule of assignments. You aren't yet a knight, though you both know that you likely would be, if not for the war.

But until then, where he goes, you go. And to defy that - to defy him by contacting the council for reassignment... he'd never expected you to go so far.

"Forgive me, Master," you mumble behind him, clearly not sorry. "I- I just want to help these people, and it doesn't seem like anyone besides me can see the extent of their issues."

Obi Wan suppresses any semblance of feelings, turning to face you when he reaches his door. "Perhaps that is true. Let us... let us agree that it is. What then? Are you prepared to stay here indefinitely?"

You fall silent, gazing up at him with those blasted, soulful eyes of yours. Those eyes can simply bowl him over whenever you please. It just isn't fair.

He sighs. "The council sent us here to uncover the assassination plot against the Toydarian king, and we have done our duty. We could spend a lifetime on any planet if we concerned ourselves with internal politics."

"This isn't just internal politics," you insist. "Another attempt on the king's life is almost inevitable, because we haven't rooted out the underlying problems."

Your face is so solemn, he has to force himself to take a beat before answering too flippantly. "Let us hope it happens in the distant future."

"Master, I'm being serious."

"As am I, Padawan." He hits the last word with a little more emphasis than needed. "As I have told you time and time again, we must learn to choose our battles. We have won the day. Now we must move on to where we are needed most."

Your brows pinch tight. "And I suppose we just hope the Toydarians can last until the end of the war without falling into a civil war of their own."

"Indeed, let us both hope so."

You'd clearly expected another answer; had wanted a longer argument. Your mouth falls open in indigance, but nothing comes out.

You turn and stalk away, and Obi Wan heaves another sigh as he enters his temporary quarters. There is nothing he can do to make you see reason when you're like this. The only thing he can give you is time.

Which is why a few hours later, your knock at the door is expected, but still welcome.

"Master?"

Obi Wan ends his meditation and answers the door, finding you standing rigidly behind it, clearly making an effort to keep eye contact.

"Come in," he ushers you, stepping to the side.

You look at the floor, then back to him as you enter. Your voice is soft and low. "I... wanted to apologize for my behavior... earlier."

Obi Wan lifts his eyebrows, but holds back his words, for now. He's already forgiven you, perhaps too quickly. Perhaps you know that.

"I just feel so... frustrated lately, with all these short, temporary assignments. It doesn't feel like we're making a difference at all."

He nods, gesturing for you to join him in sitting on the end of his bed. "I understand your need to help others. But we must not allow our fleeting feelings to blind us to the greater picture. We are a part of an order. You must never forget that."

Your stare is fixed on your lap, and you nod. "I know. I know."

"Letting go in order to focus on the greater good is not always an easy thing. But you will learn." He allows a small smile. "I have faith."

Your eyes sparkle when you finally look back up at him, and Obi Wan swallows, forcing himself to keep his smile in place before he looks away. It stirs something within him when you hold him in your gaze like that, as if he'd hung the stars themselves. Reminds him why it is best that you complete your trials and leave his side.

"I'm... sorry I mentioned a reassignment. I wasn't thinking clearly. My place is with you, Master. I don't want to be anywhere else."

Your earnestness sends a little wave of warmth through him, and Obi Wan quickly tamps it down, reaching for your clasped hands on your lap. He pats your hand gently. "I... appreciate that very much. But your place will not be here much longer."

You give him a wry little smile. "That's true. I suppose I should use my opportunities to disobey you sparingly, or you may not speak to me anymore after I'm knighted."

He returns your smile. "You won't be rid of me so easily. Not when I'm expected to use the new graphic software for mission reports."

He enjoys the way your lightened gaze slides over to him, lips splitting into a full grin. He knew that would get a rise out of you - you hate it when he asks you to help him with his datapad.

"On second thought, maybe I should transfer to a new quadrant as soon as possible."

Obi Wan laughs again, patting your leg this time. His big hand rests on your thigh a little longer than it should, and he draws it back, clearing his throat.

"I..." Your softened voice fills the silence. "I suppose I'll also need to get used to calling you Obi Wan."

Hearing his name in your mouth sends another little ripple of warmth just where it shouldn't be - right between his ribs. He steadies his thoughts.

"Let's agree to hold off until the trials, shall we?"

He hopes you hear it as a brush-off; a simple reassertion of your relationship, and that you don't hear the way his voice is pulled tight.

You grant him mercy, standing to face him again. "As you wish, Master," you answer. "Thank you for accepting my apology."

Obi Wan shakes his head. "There is nothing to forgive. Caring for those around you is no weakness. Now, get some rest."

You bow your head respectfully as he sends you on your way, and Obi Wan closes the door behind you. He rests his palm flat against the cool durasteel of the closed door, standing still for a moment.

The way his words no longer come easily in your presence, he knows he should be pushing you toward the trials as quickly as he can.

But that's another issue, for another day. Right now, he should be taking his own advice and getting some rest.

He crosses the room, removing his outer robe and hanging it in a nearby closet. Finding the light control panel and clicking off the remaining lights, he turns to look back at his bed and frowns. There's still light emanating from a small screen at his bedside. Then he watches as the image of you moves across the screen.

Oh. Right. The security cams.

Each of your rooms had been equipped with them when you'd moved into the palace a week ago. It's a closed circuit, meaning that you can only view one another. There had been some other channels available, including the king's chamber and other important locations. Those have been shut off since the investigation concluded. The cams in each of your rooms were only meant to be used when you were gone, to secure your living quarters when you weren't using them. Evidently, you'd forgotten to turn yours off - probably because you'd come back to your quarters in such a huff earlier.

Obi Wan walks over to the screen, ready to shut it off, but finds himself standing there, lingering. Hand at the ready, but never quite pressing the button.

You shrug out of your heavy outer robe and hang it over the back of a chair, your movements graceful and slow. Bracelets slide from your wrist down your forearm, and although there's no sound with the image, he can practically hear the way they jangle together. Those blasted pieces of jewelry - he's told you a thousand times not to wear them, but you keep them tucked under the sleeve of your robe anyway. Probably stuffed into the fabric so they don't make a sound.

His hand comes back to his side, watching as you admire them while taking each one off. They aren't practical. They could catch on something during a fight. But they'd been given to you by a friend, and you'd stubbornly held onto them. And if he's being honest, they are beautiful.

Beautiful.

The word hangs in his mind.

He clears his throat, refocusing on the idea that he should work to accept that there are some things he was able to train out of you, and some things that remain a part of who you are. Now that you're moving on, no longer his padawan, he needs to force himself to view you differently.

He watches as you put away your bracelets, packing them with the rest of your clothing. After another moment, he lifts a hand to the button again. Any longer and he'll be infringing on your privacy. He just... wanted to take a moment to reminisce.

He continues to reminisce while you're bending down to roll out your night clothes, and he can see down the front of your-

Click.

His breathing is unsteady.

The blank, darkened screen stares back at him. Every one of his nerve endings feels like they've been dipped in molten lava.

He's never done anything so improper.

You are his padawan. 

His padawan. He leans into the word, branding it into his mind, with all that it encompasses. All the expectations and the prohibitions. All the sleepless nights and grueling days he's spent committing himself to you; to do right by you.

He's let this thing, this fascination, fester within him for far too long. Lingering looks, over time, have become a habit. And just now, the habit has been unspooled in front of him, spilling out like thread from a cut cloth. He'd never realized it had become this much a part of him. Not until just now, when his gaze didn't have to turn away. When it could run rampant with no consequences.

It fills him with a sort of dread. As if his feet are on a path he knows he can't turn from. No, indeed - he's already on it. Just by not moving from this spot in front of the screen, he's already taken the first steps.

He feels like every muscle in his body is taught, ready to snap. This moment could be so easy to resist, if he knew it would happen again. If this weren't the one time he would ever, ever have the chance to see you - really see you, without hiding his desire. Without the chance of you knowing. Without the need to control himself.

Click.

You've taken off your tunic, spreading it flat to roll it up. All you're wearing are your leggings and a thin undershirt that wraps tightly around your stomach and hangs loosely at the top. When you bend to roll the tunic up, his eyes are unable to tear away from the screen. The dark crevice where your shirt falls open draws him in, dangerously close to revealing more. His eyes are fixated on it. Pleading for it to spare him and stay in place. Pleading for it to slip.

He drinks in the features of your face. Your relaxed expression. The curve of your jaw. The length of your neck.

How many times has he imagined it - brushing a knuckle along the nape of your neck, just to feel your warmth. The thrill that would run through him as you might look up at him with wide, confused eyes. A shudder runs through him, filling him with unwelcome heat.

He's been on enough desert planets to experience heat sickness. The way it courses through the body in nauseating waves. Making him jittery, uneasy. Shaking with the feeling of wanting to burst, yet knowing there's nothing he can do to fight it. He could not beg the suns for mercy. The only thing he could do was let the sickness crawl through his veins, poisoning him slowly until he lost all sense. And hope he could come back to himself when it was all over.

You finish folding and turn around to unclasp the front of your leggings.

Obi Wan sits, the soft edge of his bed catching him.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as you seem to take an eternity to slowly slide the pants over the curve of your ass, exposing skin he's never seen before. Even in the smallest of your training clothes, he's never seen the full, soft cheeks of your ass on display like this. He sucks in a breath, eyes dancing over every inch.

You step out of the leggings, bending at the knees to pick them up, and he watches the arch of your back, the sway of your hips. When you put away your leggings, he considers it a blessing that you're behind a table, yet still feels the pull of frustration - waiting, waiting, waiting for you to step back into view.

When at last you do, your hands slip down to your sides and you turn to face the cam again, showing him the smooth skin of your stomach as your shirt lifts up.

"Stars, help me," Obi Wan whispers, unblinking.

But you're walking back and forth as you undress, and at the moment his breath hitches, you turn away again, and he sees nothing but your back. You stride across the room, completely at ease, and just as you enter the doorframe of the refresher next to your room, your fingers lazily slip under the waistband of some sort of obscenely delicate fabric, peeling your underwear down your body.

Obi Wan has to stifle a soft moan, imagining his own larger, rougher hands in place of yours, dragging the lacey thing down your legs to the floor.

You step out of them, and at a distance that's quite blurry, he can just see the soft bounce of your breasts from the side. His mouth is slackened, watching you walk away from the cam and into the next room.

His chest is tight. He shifts uncomfortably in the bed to reposition. He can feel the thrum of his own flushed face, can feel his pulse between his legs.

When you come out of the other room, you're clothed - just barely. You've put on a silky little slip. It's practically see-through. It might be worse than seeing you with no clothes at all. The slip itself is almost painfully innocent. No lace or adornments. A simple, soft garment worn for your comfort in bed. Nothing more.

The idea sends another shameful jolt through him, at watching you like this. Then he catches sight of the small pod in your hand. When you draw up one of your legs onto the bed and take off the lid of the pod to swipe your fingers through it, he realizes that it's a salve or lotion of some sort. A new level of agony overtakes him as you slide the lotion over your leg, rubbing in soft circles over your skin. Each time you lean forward to rub another circle, your slip rides up to show a teasing glimpse of your ass.

Obi Wan follows your every movement, feeling his gaze go glassy, heavy, and lost. The ache throbbing between his legs seems to thrum in time with your entrancing, repetitive movements. You start on the other leg, and when you bend forward this time, he groans into his fist, seeing even more.

Almost absently, he palms down his straining erection through his clothes. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and then snap open again to watch as you drop your leg, smoothing the lotion over your arms and neck, then sliding your hands around your breasts. You may as well be wearing nothing, the way he can see your fingers working beneath the fabric, squeezing the soft skin and teasing delicately over your own nipples.

His lower lip juts forward when his mouth falls open, and Obi Wan bares his teeth as if that will help him. As if the futile gesture of his struggle will somehow stop the way his hand is rubbing himself. As if it will keep him from tearing his off clothes as he watches you touch yourself.

Your hands slowly work their way down to your stomach, then down the lengths of each of your arms, and you finally put the lotion away. You dim the lights, but the picture is still fortunately - cursedly - clear enough that he can see every curve of your body as you climb into bed. You pull back the covers, and Obi Wan's palm presses hard into his lap and stills.

"Oh, darling, no..." he murmurs as you crawl forward, giving him a clear view of your perfect, glistening center. You're a little wet, and he feels himself losing a small piece of his sanity trying to imagine why you might be.

Once you're in bed, lying on your side, the light from the next room bathes your face in an ethereal glow so that he can see your every expression clearly, though your body is a little shrouded by the blankets piled at your feet.

He can, however, with the way you're angled, see right between your legs.

Hands trembling, he unceremoniously yanks down his pants to wrap a palm around himself, letting out a short gasp at the relief.

Your perfect pussy, bared just for him. He curses under his breath as he drinks in the sight of you, knowing he'll only last a few moments and squeezing himself, trying to draw out the moments as long as possible.

Obi Wan's heated gaze ratchets upward when he notices you yawn - soft, sweet and pure.

Entranced by the way your lower lip is hanging open, he imagines what it would feel like to shove two fingers into your warm, wet mouth. The image makes his cock twitch in his hand, and he imagines that going in next.

He admits it - he wishes he were there with you. Right now. Standing over your bed and looking into your big, luminous, trusting, tear-blurred eyes and shoving his cock into your lovely little mouth.

He wants to run a finger along the folds of your pussy until you soak his hand, and then he wants to ease your legs apart and tease circles around your swollen clit until you're babbling with pleasure. He wants you in every way. Stars save him - he wants to fuck you.

The thought makes him grunt low in his throat, and he tightens his grip. He's disgusted with himself, grinding into his own fist as if he could wring the very thought out of his body.

His padawan, bent over her bed, legs spread for him. His heavy palms on her waist, holding her perfect body, her skin too young and smooth for his calloused hands. Her pussy engulfing his dick, making him cry out her name with every thrust.

With every harsh tug of his pulsing, drooling cock, he's more damned. But he can't stop. Can't think of anything but you. His whole mind - his whole being - is concentrated on nothing but you, and how much he wants to paint your stomach, your face, your cunt with the cum that's about to shoot all over his hand.

He watches as you roll to your other side, tits nearly spilling out of your bedclothes, and imagines the way they would feel under his hands. The way you would bounce under your clothes as he ravaged you, coating his dick in your slippery, soft, innocent little cunt, taking absolutely everything he'd ever wanted.

And Obi Wan explodes, trying to block what he can, but failing miserably and covering his hand and the screen with ropes of hot, white mess. He chokes back a groan, forcing himself not to wake half the palace and grunts quietly into the arm of his tunic as he finishes soaking the bed and himself in his own seed.

He pants, watching the mess dripping over your warm, clean, clothed form on the screen. His mouth is hanging open, and he closes it to swallow.

Your eyes are shut, expression peaceful. You've fallen asleep.

He's shaking and sweating, staring at your beautiful face when the shame overcomes him.

The worst thing about heat sickness - once it takes you, even if you slake your thirst, even if you cool your brow, even if your pulse stops pounding for the moment - it will inevitably happen again. 

--

A/N: Shoutout to @slinkygail who kindly encouraged me to work on my WIPs! 💜

And thank you as always to everyone who reads. Hope you liked this one-off. :) It's been bouncing around my drafts for a while. A situation I don't believe for one second that Obi Wan would actually find himself in, but was absolutely necessary to indulge myself.

[kissitbttr]

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents

[starsxblazing]

Im so happy your requests are open. Could i request azriel x reader where they're already in a relationship and reader overhears azriel mention hed like to add a 3rd person in the bedroom. Reader just shuts down and cant believe hed even think of such a thing. Shes so hurt and distant even his touch makes her wanna vomit. Maybe she breaks up with up with him while hes thinking of marrying her. And then he finds out why shes so distant and it was just a huuge huuuge misunderstanding (idk maybe she walked in at the wrong time and overheard cassian talkin about how hes gonna get azriel in a 3 way for azriels bachelor party once he asks reader to marry him.) And now hes gotta win the girl back and grovel on behalf of his stupid brother lol. angst with a happy ending.

I just want to say just how much I appreciate all of the requests with the amazing ideas that I get. I enjoy writing each one so very much!

Misunderstandings

----

You padded silently through the river house in search of your boyfriend, being sure to use every lesson of stealth that Azriel had taught you to surprise him. It had been three days since you had seen him due to Rhysand sending you out to speak with other courts. You had been told that he was here with Cassian but the bottom floor was empty so you continued on. A smile formed on your face as it usually did when you thought of him and all of the amazing years that you had been together.

It was as perfect as you thought that a relationship could be and you were happier than you ever were in your entire existence. He was the only person that you could ever imagine spending the rest of your life with. There was no way that any other male could compare to him and how well that he treated you because not a day went by that he never failed in making you feel like a queen. 

After listening through every closed door, you still came up empty handed until you were outside of Cassian’s door. His laugh could be heard, clear delight and mischief in it. Even though it was unlike you, you lingered outside of the door to listen in on the conversation that was apparently amusing.

“A threesome,” Azriel stated.

“It will be the best time of your life,” Cassian laughed. “Y/N and another girl? Can’t tell me it doesn’t sound like a blessing from the Mother.”

“I think bringing another female into our bed is exactly-”

You darted from the home as your heart dropped at what you heard. The thought of sharing your boyfriend with anyone had your stomach turning as the betrayal hit you in full force. Returning to the home that you shared with Azriel only made you feel worse and you found yourself in front of the toilet, releasing everything that was in your stomach.

Once you could muster up just enough strength, you made your way to your bed on shaky legs. Mental images of the love of your life so much as touching another female had you feeling sick again and the tears came in full force. You couldn’t stand the thought that he was still there more than likely discussing which female he should pick to present to you.

It made you feel like you were nothing and your entire relationship had been a lie. Had he had these thoughts often? Did he lust after other females and you never noticed? Had you failed to please him in bed? Had everything been for nothing? The more that you thought, the more that you cried until you were finally taken by sleep.

“Absolutely not.”

Azriel stared at Cassian, his arms crossed and jaw clenched. The last thing that he would ever want was someone else in his bed. The thought of touching another female much less anyone else touching you had his anger spiking along with his stomach twisting. 

“You really don’t want to accept my bachelor party gift?” Cassian asked, a hand on his heart as if he was offended.

“How would you feel if it was Nesta?”

“Sounds fun.”

He could only glare at his brother, unable to comprehend how the male could stand such a thing. Azriel’s jealous territorial streak shot through him that was followed by his own pain of seeing you broken hearted for simply suggesting such a thing. Even if it was something that he truly did want, he knew you wouldn’t want another female touching him and rightfully so.

“I haven’t even asked her to marry me yet,” Azriel scoffed. “She might not even say yes.”

“Are you kidding me!?” Cassian exclaimed, sitting up in his seat in disbelief. “She’s crazy about you just as much as you are with her! You’ve had that ring for weeks now. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered but he knew full well that it was his own insecurities. “I need to get home. She should be home by now and it’s already getting late.”

“Yea, yea.” His brother waved a hand in dismissal as Azriel stood. “Even though I think you should stay and have more wine with me. It’s one of Rhys’s good bottles.”

“Of course it is.” Azriel rolled his eyes, making his way to the door before glancing at Cassian again. “You better not ever mention this conversation. To me or anyone else.”

With that, he left and rushed home. If there was nothing else that he loved, it was falling asleep beside you at night. The way that you always moved as close as you could get made it all the more special. He had finally gotten the one thing that he had always wanted most in life and he knew that he was blessed and he would never do anything to jeopardize it.

When he arrived home, there wasn’t a light on in the entire house which only made him frown. You usually waited for him to get home no matter how late it was and the fact that the sun had just gone down had him worried. The lightest scent of your tears hit him just as he made it to the bedroom floor, causing his stomach to drop.

He found you already in a deep sleep and his frown deepened on his face as his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed that your eyes were indeed swollen from crying. As he silently changed his clothes, his shadows became as restless as his thoughts, wondering what could have caused you such distress.  

He eased as gently as he could into the bed so that he didn’t wake you but when he went to pull you into him, you flinched and jerked upright. Even in the darkness, he could see your hateful glare before you moved as far away from him as you could get. He knew then that something was seriously wrong.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked gently, a hint of panic starting to rise in him.

You didn’t respond so he tried touching your arm and you simply jerked it out of his grasp. His heart dropped into his stomach and panic continued to rise to the point that he wanted to drop to his knees and beg you if it was needed to get answers. Instead of doing so, he let you sleep in hopes that you had simply had pent up frustrations from your mission that you weren’t ready to talk about.

You awoke early the next morning since you had gone to bed so early and was relieved that Azriel was already gone. His side of the bed was cold as it was most days of the week. Your relief soon faded when your thoughts nagged at you, making you wonder if he was out scouting the city or maybe another court for another female.

All of the trust that you had in him was completely shattered as you wondered if he had been cheating on all of the late nights that he alleged that he was on missions for Rhys. If he had a secret mistress, you thought that may be an option for him if the other female could keep it a secret. Unable to handle the disgust rolling through like a storm, you packed what you could into a bag and left the one place that had been your safe haven.

It wasn’t hard to find an empty apartment in the city and even though it was unfurnished, you didn’t care. It would be just as easy to have a mattress placed in a bedroom. Paired with enough food to get you by, it would be enough. Your only intention was to hide away from the people that you had seen as your family. It wasn’t just the betrayal of your boyfriend but also with Cassian who saw you as a brother. He was wholeheartedly encouraging Azriel to basically cheat on you. You had thought that Azriel felt the same way as you did and wouldn’t want anyone else touching you but it appeared as if you were wrong. 

After two weeks of being alone in your bare apartment, the depression had completely taken over. You missed him more than you ever thought that you would but your thoughts were always on repeat of mental images of him putting his hands on another female how he had always done you now that you were no longer his problem to deal with. 

It was late in the night and since you hardly slept anymore, you instantly noticed the piece of paper and pen that landed on the floor beside your poor excuse of a bed. You blew out a sigh of relief when you instantly noticed that it was Rhysand’s handwriting but that feeling quickly disappeared as you read the message.

“You are needed at the river house tomorrow afternoon to discuss an issue that we are having with the court.”

Having to leave the safety of your apartment would mean that you would risk seeing Azriel. What was more, going to a meeting with the Inner Circle meant that you would have to see your boyfriend. Or maybe your ex boyfriend now. It was something that you weren’t ready to face. Not ready to face the possibility that there may be a new female by his side.

Sleep never did find you that night, your anxiety too high to do anything but sob as your body shook uncontrollably while your heart pounded wildly in your chest.

Azriel came home that night to find you gone, your scent barely noticeable. It was enough to tell him that you had been gone for a while. Hoping to find some form of answers, he took two steps at the time to the bedroom only to find it vacant. Your drawers to your armoire were open and empty, the sight paired with how you had acted the night before sending his heart racing in true and utter panic. 

He instantly took to the skies, hoping to find you anywhere. Unfortunately, it was later in the night so there weren’t many people that he could inquire to about your whereabouts. He came up empty handed so before the sun could fully rise in the sky, he was at the river house in hopes that you were there. He felt as if someone would have told you if you were but there was also the chance that Rhysand could find you. 

“Please tell me you have seen her,” he begged as soon as his sleepy eyed brother opened the door.

“Who?” Rhys asked, his voice still full of sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

“Y/N!” he snapped. “I haven’t seen her since last night!”

That was enough to get the High Lord’s attention and bring him fully to the present. There was a gentle caress on his mental shield so he dropped the barrier to let the male see his memories. Rhys flinched as he pulled away but there was sympathy that he didn’t want on his friend’s face.

“Don’t panic,” the High Lord ordered in a gentle tone. “We will find her.”

“How are we going to find her when we don’t know anything!?” Azriel snapped, worry, panic, and pain lacing into every word.

“It didn’t appear as if there was a struggle and there were no unusual scents to indicate that she may have been abducted,” Rhysand mused. “Even if it was the case, she is trained well enough to handle whoever could have managed to come in.”

“But-”

“Has there been any disagreements as of late?”

“No-”

“Has she been expressing any discomfort with either of you being gone too long on missions?”

“No!” he exclaimed, frustrated because he had already come up empty handed on those thoughts as well. “Everything has been as perfect and happy as it could be!”

“We will find her,” his brother repeated gently.

Azriel’s chest began to heave at all of the horribly possible scenarios that could have happened to you. The thought of you being taken and injured hurt but what hurt him the most was the nagging suspicion that you had left him. Not only had you left him but done so when he wasn’t present and hadn’t communicated anything which was unlike you. Communication was a strong principle of a relationship for you so he must have done something irreparably wrong for you to leave him without a trace.

Unable to sit idly by and wait for Rhysand to search for you, he returned to the city. Despite the fact that he had searched all day and asked everyone he came across, it was as futile as the night before on any information about you. The pain felt as if it was eating him from the inside out while suffocating him in the process.

There were so many things that made him feel unworthy of anything but you had come along and changed that. There had been so many things that had hurt him in his life. If he lost you, it would be the one pain that he wouldn’t be capable of enduring. 

A week passed and each day was a repeat of the one before. He was sure that the citizens of Velaris were sick of him asking about you, especially when he was doing his best to be discreet. At the end of each day, he found himself curled up in the bed that he used to share with you to release the tears that he did his best to keep locked away until he was alone. His appetite had completely disappeared and he was unable to even force himself to eat. 

By the end of the second week, Rhysand had formed a plan. He watched as the High Lord wrote a note to you requesting your presence. The letter disappeared and he was reassured that if nothing else, you would come when the court needed you. His shadows had been restless the entirety of the two weeks of you being gone and tonight was no different. He was just as restless as they were with anticipated hope.

The entire day was spent pacing in different rooms to pass the time while thinking of any and every speech for whatever he had unknowingly done wrong. Feyre had done her best to calm and reassure him but nothing would soothe him until he saw you. It was what he had thought until you strode through the door of the river house.

Your scent hit him so hard that it made him stumble when he went to take a step towards you. He froze on his second step when you didn’t look at him but instead opted to watch your High Lord with anger in your eyes. It was at that time that he took a moment to do a full assessment of you only to find that you appeared to be in the same emotional state that he was in. You had lost weight and the dark circles were a harsh contrast to your unusually pale skin.

“I’m here,” you snapped, causing Rhysand to frown. “I’ve got things to be doing.”

“Care to fill us in on what ‘things’ you are busy with?” the High Lord countered.

“It’s not your business what I do with my personal time.”

“The personal time that a member of my court has used to stay hidden for two weeks.”

“I may be a part of your court, Rhysand but I do not have to report all of my movements.”

“No,” Rhys agreed. “But as a member of my Inner Circle, I would like the courtesy of knowing that you are safe when you decide to disappear without a trace. Maybe I should make you a spy as well since you do such a good job of it.”

“I don’t have time for this.” You bared your teeth at the High Lord who only smiled in return, the action causing you to huff. “Call me if there is actual business.”

“Y/N,” Azriel started when you glared at him once you began to make your way to the door. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you growled.

The four words had him recoiling his hand from where he tried to stop you. There was a hatefulness in your eyes that had never been laid upon him before and he could feel the burning beginning in his eyes. He loved you more than words could ever explain but yet here you were, staring at him with so much disgust. It made him feel lower than he had ever felt in his life. Lower than how he had felt as a child locked in a lightless cell.

“Please, please tell me what’s wrong,” he begged, blocking out everyone else in the room around them. “Please.”

“I really can’t believe you Azriel.” Tears filled your eyes and the pain in them had his knees buckling. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

“Y/N, please-”

He tried once again to grasp your arm to stop you but your face paled as if the simple thought of him touching you made you sick. Every insecurity that he ever had began to resurface, every insecurity that had been healed simply because of your support. His worst fear had been confirmed but he refused to give up until he knew what had gone so horribly wrong. 

“Please tell me what I did,” he begged again once the both of you were outside. “How can I make it right?”

“You can make it right by going back to whatever bitch you wanted.” You swirled on him so quickly that he hardly had time to register that you did so, leaving nothing a handful of inches between the two of you. “I wasn’t enough so go find better!”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he asked in astonishment. “You are all that I’ve ever wanted. You are everything that I have been searching for my entire life.”

“I’m all you want but yet you have no problem with wanting a threesome?” His heart dropped as he realized what had happened. “Did you really think I would go along with that? Or were you planning it with someone else?”

“I wasn’t-”

Azriel took a deep breath and dropped down onto one knee while pulling the small box out of his pocket. He had kept it with him every single day and he was thankful that he did even if he was silently cursing his brother for ruining the proposal. Before opening it, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you into him before burying his face into your stomach.

“Cassian,” he mumbled with a defeated sigh. “Is a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, I know all about him encouraging such an idiotic thing!” you exclaimed while halfheartedly trying to wiggle free from him. 

“He was trying to talk me into accepting a gift from him for..”

“For what?”

He took a deep breath, savoring the contact, before he pulled away and looked up to you. A small gasp escaped your lips when he opened the box that held the blue sapphire engagement ring. 

“For a bachelor party if you said yes when I proposed.”

Hope was the only thing that he could cling to when tears formed in your eyes as they darted between him and the ring. He took note that your body began to shake just as the smallest smile formed on your face.

“You- You were..”

“This isn’t exactly the way that I had planned it out,” he chuckled, feeling relieved to see some light back in your eyes. “My life has been nothing but darkness until you came into it and lit it up as if you were the brightest sun that could ever exist. A sun that made all of the dark disappear and made me feel truly seen for the first time in my life. I have never known true love and happiness until I was able to call you mine and it would be the greatest honor that I could ever receive to be able to call you my wife.”

Tears were falling freely down your face but your eyes never left his. The love and adoration had returned and it took everything in him to stay on one knee until he received a reply of some sort.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” you exclaimed.

He was barely able to stand in time to catch you before you launched yourself onto him, throwing your arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. It bordered on pain but he didn’t dare complain now that you were back in his arms.

“Thank the Mother.”

You giggled at his words and then gave him the brightest smile when he slid the ring on your finger. He crashed his lips to yours, appreciating every single thing about you in a way that he hadn’t before. When he pulled away, there was a mischievous grin adorning your face.

“I think me and Cassian need to have a nice long chat.”

He laughed, a genuine true laugh, before following you inside and enjoying the scolding that his brother earned.  

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain

[birdbaddie]

I promise

yooooo

literally my first post ever so yippeeeee.

I got inspired by another post on here so I decided to make some glop of my own 😈. Reader's technique is basically just wings and healing, I will go in more depth in future oneshots.

ft. Satoru x f!Reader, mostly platonic!Megumi x f.Reader

Both Satoru and reader are around 20 and Megumi is around 8.

-discusses- violence, injuries, hurt+Comfort, poor baby Megumi needs a hug :( and Satoru being Satoru. Enjoy!

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

‘That worthless Tatsuya!’

Megumi kicked a stone as he stomped out of the school gates. Usually he wouldn’t care less when Tatsuya or any of his other goons picked on him but things just kept going wrong for him the past week and to top it off- that rat decided to start talking about you and Satoru and how weird it was that you were his guardians.

“Did you see that tall guy rolling around yesterday because he dropped his ice-cream?”

“Yeah my mom says to avoid them because they are dangerous to everyone”

Megumi didn’t understand when Tatsuya said dangerous. He understood the strength both of his guardians had but he couldn’t have meant that.

“No wonder Megumi is so strange, Do you think he’s as dangerous as his guardians?”

“Let’s not go near him, he can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

Megumi would’ve punched those bullies without hesitation but he made a promise with you last week after the 7th home call about his fighting.

“Megumi, you can’t keep doing this. You know that right?” 

He remembers your soft voice and your equally soft hands cleaning the cuts on his hands. He kept quiet though because he knew if he spoke he might’ve either cried or became angry again and that would only make you worry more.

“Listen, I just don’t want you getting hurt. I know you have a good heart and have the right reasons but hitting others is never the right option no matter how right your reason is”

You quickly healed his cuts with your technique and he felt a rush of calmness envelop him, the way it always does when you have to use your technique on him.

“Promise me you will stop doing this, It makes me upset whenever I see even one scratch on you. I know we’re only your guardians but we love you and only want what's best for you, please Megumi….”

He looked at your face for the first time since coming back from school. You had tears ready to fall as you gently gripped his hands. He didn’t know if it was your technique or not but your emotions were always obvious, and with the way your eyebrows were as furrowed as they could be and you biting your lip to stop you from sobbing told him all he needed to know how you were feeling.

And it was all because of him.

“I promise”

Megumi sits on the sidewalk as he waits for you to pick him up. 

It’s been 2 years since you and Gojo took him in and he hates to admit that he’s started getting attached to both of you. Attached enough now that if something happened to you or Gojo and it resulted in both him and Tsumiki getting separated from you two, he would give up on trying altogether. 

Gojo was meant to pick him up today but with a surprise mission all the way in Osaka, it was your job. Tsumiki has been ill all week too so it was just him. 

He sighs and rests his head on his hand as he pretends to draw pictures on the road with his feet. He contemplates releasing his divine dogs to play with or just to keep him company as he waits for you but he decides against it because he thinks you will be there soon anyway. 

You were never late.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

It’s been twenty minutes, where were you?

The sky was beginning to turn orange and he was the only one there.

Did she forget?........ No she never does when it comes to him and Tsumiki.

What if she just left him on purpose?

It wouldn’t have been the first time it's happened. Not with her specifically, but what if she’s just realised she can leave him just like his parents?

Megumi begins to curl in on himself as these thoughts keep coming.

‘What if that fight I was in last week was the final straw?’

His breathing started to become heavy as he willed himself not to cry.

What if that fight last week just revealed other things you didn’t like about him? What if you hated the way he’s only been cold and despondent since you took him in? What if you hated the fact you not only had to look after him but his sister too? What if you wanted to get rid of him because he took the rest of yours and Gojo’s childhood? What if-

“Megumi?”

He didn’t even realise when there was a large shadow blocking him from the harsh rays of the setting sun. And he especially didn’t realise the familiar comforting hand smoothing his hair.

He looks up to see your enormous white wings shielding him from the sun and your concerned eyes as you try and figure out what happened by not so subtly checking him for any injuries.

You reach for his face and he flinches. Your concern only grows as you reach again and wipe his tears away. Another thing he didn’t realise that happened.

“Are you okay?”

Megumi just stares as he once again couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, worried he might say too much.

“Did something happen in school?”

“He can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

He felt soft feathers surround him as he heard loud sobs and wailing. The hand that was in his hair went to his back and started rubbing small circles. As heard quiet comforting words come from the woman hugging him.

‘Is that me crying?’

The woman tightens her hug as she feels tiny arms wrap around her.

Megumi mumbled something in your neck so you strained back to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“I'm sorry” 

His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Sorry for what gumi?” At this point you were on the verge of calling Satoru to help you with this as you have never seen such a visceral reaction come from this eight year old.

“Please don’t leave us! I promise we’ll be good! I promise we’ll never do anything bad ever again! I promise!-”

“Megumi slow down! No ones leaving you, don’t you remember what I promised you last week?”

Megumi started to calm down as he remembered the rest of your conversation.

“I promise”

You sigh as you both get quiet, with you rubbing his now perfectly healed hands.

“Could you promise me something?”

You look into his eyes with surprise as he asks this. Megumi never asks for anything so it came as a shock, especially when it was as big as a promise.

You smile as you let go of his hands to put the baby wipes back away.

“I guess it’s only fair after I asked you to promise something”

Megumi watches your movements and waits for you to sit back down at the table beside him.

“Could you promise………that you’ll always be here for me and Tsumiki?”

Surprised at his bluntness, you didn’t realise how open Megumi would be tonight. But you just showed him a reassuring smile as you affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Well you’re in luck Gumi, that’s a promise I made to myself the day I met you”

The corners of his lips started to turn up into a smile before the front door burst open with the freak strutting in with the goofiest smile.

A scowl quickly made its way onto his face as he turned away from the idiot making his way over.

“Were you having a family bonding moment without me??? For shame!” satoru quickly threw the medicine for Tsumiki onto the table and decided to plop himself onto Megumi's chair, with Megumi still in it.

“Get off you overgrown lint-roller!” Megumi tries to hit him as Satoru faces you.

“So how was your day Sweets?” Satoru completely ignores the squirming Megumi trying to breathe. 

And as you tried and failed to get Satoru off the complaining Megumi, Megumi realised although right now he’d rather be anywhere else- He also wishes to stay right here with them for as long as the universe would let him.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

By now, Megumi has fully calmed down as you helped him to his feet.

“Satoru will be home tonight and Tsumiki has been looking much better today, so why don’t we go and get some ice cream for later, hm?”

And as Megumi grabs your hand to start walking to the convenience store he realises he’ll never be alone as long as you, Satoru and Tsumiki were always with him. He doesn’t have to worry about any of you guys leaving him because you want him as much as he wants you. Screw what everyone else thinks, your little family works and no one could change that.

“Thank you, mom”

[cowgirlcasanova]

I made the mistake of clicking on a link to a reddit thread about abigail marston.

the way the men on there talk about her makes me physically feel sick. the names they call her, the way they describe her and john’s relationship, the way they constantly bring up her past in a negative way.

They seem to lack any and all artistic thinking skills. to me, one of the main points of media and art is how you’re supposed to analyze and discover the things they aren’t outright said. You have to dig a little deeper, you have to actually think. The people on that godforsaken website seem to just not have/be able to do that!

abigail was a prostitute. yes, we all know this men of reddit and it’s okay! please shut up about it!!!!

she was also an orphan, even worse for the time, an orphaned girl. she had little to no opportunities in the world she was born into. EVEN JOHN KNOWS THIS. “she’s a woman in a man’s world” and they act personally offended on johns behalf. john was an orphan too, i can promise you he understands how hard it is to survive and he doesn’t look down on her! Not that it even begins to matter if john or anyone else “understands” her reasoning for her choice of survival. It doesn’t. it simply matters that abigail was incredibly strong throughout that time of her life and rest. she survived and did whatever she could to and that is to be appreciated.

These men seem to have this one single idea that “abigail was prostitute so john thought baby not his cause so many men 🤓” SHUT. UP. no actually that was so much more actually john not ready to be a father and being afraid of himself!!!! honestly speaking, the entirety of that situation has very little to do with abigail herself. but no they’ll never understand that because it was written out in black and white and you may have to think a little to get to that conclusion. not to mention, they could never accept it because then john marston wouldn’t be as “alpha” BE QUIET IM BEGGING YOU.

the way they discuss abigail and uncle made my skin crawl. there is nothing else said about that relationship, there is no one specific cannon explanation as to how or why they knew each other. but the men i saw discussing it said such disgusting and vulgar things about how uncle “reallyyy knew abigail”. truly horrifying. There’s so many different ways they could’ve crossed paths. she was a prostitute but that’s not all she was. she was still a woman, a person. i can assure you she had other hobbies and activities that she did, that she enjoyed doing.

not to mention how it seems to be such an odd and disgusting fantasy for them that “everyone in the gang had abigail” i hate to break it to you but no they didn’t! Now this is up for debate for a lot of people and i actually want to make an entire post just dedicated to this. When looking at both instances where that was said, it was purposely said to hurt john and throw him off. not to mention, abigail was never around when it was said. There wasn’t an instance of anyone saying it in camp or even throwing an insult to john about it in rdr2. hmmm i wonder why that is????? Bill said it to make him stumble and dutch said it because he knows john and he knows how to hit him where it hurts. But, i don’t think any of it is true. of course no internet bro is going to actually think into enough to even be curious so!

abigail marston is someone to be admired. someone who persevered as much as any man in that gang but she doesn’t get the same appreciation. she probably had to work just as hard if not harder than some of the men just to stay alive in her youth. Abigail marston is not a nag, she’s not annoying, she’s not “mean” to john. take a step back and look at what she’s responding to and give her the same grace you give arthur and john. “oh well arthur just had a hard time showing emotions because of the way he was raised” “oh john couldn’t deal with everything so he ran away for a little bit it’s okay.” let abigail have that same grace.

so sorry this was not meant to be this long. clearly it has been nagging at me. if you read this love you and love abigail marston!

[leclercvsx]

DILF | SMAU

sebastian vettel

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader

summary: y/n is dating Seb who is 15 years older than her but despite the age gap theyre just like any other couple

warnings: age gap (?)

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, landonorris and 47,628 others

yourusername: in my lover era 🫶

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel: i love you❤️

yourusername: ugh i love you too😭❤️

user: girlie isn’t he old enough to be your dad😨

landonorris: i took the last photo btw

yourusername: we know🙄

user: am i the only one that find this weird ???

user: definitely not the only one

friendusername: my fav couple😔

yourusername: love you😘😘

user: he’s literally almost DOUBLE her age wtf

—

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 815k others

sebastianvettel: great time seeing everyone again 🙏🏼

TAGGED: lewishamilton, yourusername

lewishamilton: loved seeing you mate, your girlfriends lovely by the way💙

sebastianvettel: she’s the best❤️

yourusername: making me blush and shi☺️

user: he’s basically dating a child

user: nah cos this is still so weird

user: im actually so grossed out rn

user: girl me too

user: he should be with someone his own age, not someone that’s just hit puberty

user: a bit predatory if u ask me

—

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton and 25,184 others

yourusername: in a world of boys he’s a gentlemen ❤️

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

user: “gentlemen” it’s because he’s almost double your age babe

sebastianvettel: the love of my life❤️

yourusername: i will cry

sebastianvettel: please don’t, love

user: she’s probably with him for his money and fame tbh

friendusername: i don’t think she’d tolerate all this nasty ass behaviour if she was with him for his money or fame. leave them alone.🙄

liked by sebastianvettel and yourusername

user: i actually think they’re super cute😭

user: no cos me too like i want what they have

lewishamilton: you guys really are the cutest

yourusername: 😛

—

y/n

sebastian

seb❤️

what’s wrong? you never call me by my full name

y/n

i think we should break up:/

seb❤️

what the hell are you on about? i don’t think we should break up.

where’s all this coming from?

y/n

everyone’s calling you a freak for being with a “child” and saying that you’re too old for me or that you’re old enough to be my dad and i don’t want anyone to continue hating on you. so as much as i love you and hate myself for doing this, i think it’s for the best.

seb❤️

no.

i won’t let you break up with me due to jealous children on the internet, Y/n. i love you and i do not care about anyone else’s opinions.

So what if we have an age gap? we’re both legal, mature adults who can decide who we want to date.

i’ll sort this all out, my love. don’t worry❤️

—

sebastianvettel

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 1,628,273 others

sebastianvettel: Y/n and i have been dating for the past year and a half, yes we started dating when she was 19 (4 days before she was 20) and i had just turned 34 but we both discussed this for a while. We’re both legal, consenting, mature adults and choose to date each-other because we love eachother. There is nothing wrong with our relationship. If you find out relationship weird, then YOU are the problem (y/n taught me how to say that.)

Y/n is the love of my life and i don’t ever want that to change. Thanks to some people online, you have made my lovely, wonderful and beautiful girlfriend try to break up with me because she doesn’t want me getting hated on. We’re still very much together and will be for the foreseeable future.

I love you, Y/n. Ignore the jealous, immature children❤️

TAGGED: yourusername

yourusername: sobbing on my floor right now. i love you so so much😭❤️

sebastianvettel: don’t cry, my love.

lewishamilton: ignore the immature people, they don’t know what they’re talking about.

liked by yourusername

user: i actually feel really bad now

user: proud to say i’ve always been a y/nseb shipper btw

landonorris: i would say mother and father but y/n is younger than me so😔

yourusername: you aren’t helping this situation, Lando.

landonorris: it was a JOKE. you know i love you both really🙏🏼🙏🏼

liked by sebastianvettel

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this is quite a short one cos i ran out of ideas lol, but anyway i hope you all enjoy!

this was either gonna be for carlos, daniel or seb but i chose seb cos he’s my fav person ever😛

AND YES I KNOW THE AGE GAP IS A LITTLE EXTREME BUT THIS IS ALL FICTION !!!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN 🫶

masterlist | request

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Whores get what whores deserve

Summary: You haven't had the time to take care of your bunny hybrid bf as you usually would, and he decides to brat for attention. a/n: I think this is my first fic where the reader is the dom, hope you all enjoy it! also the divider is by @cafekitsune

CW: Bondage, bunnyboy gets slapped twice but its been discussed before, edging, mommy kink, pegging.

"Baby, I really don't have the time right now, you understand that."

"Fine. I'll just get someone else, bet they could make me feel better anyways." He grumbles, walking away. Now, you know that comment was only meant to piss you off. You know you're playing into him if you react but goddammit your head still snaps up when you hear it.

"The fuck did you just say?"

"Nothin', didn't say anythin'!"

"No, no, go ahead. You think anyone else could ever make you feel even half as good as I do?"

"N-no! Promise! Was just joking!"

"Didn't sound like a joke. Go upstairs and if you have any clothes on by the time im up there, so help me god."

He bolts upstairs -so fast that you're a little worried he might slip- and you unclench your jaw. You knew he said that just to piss you off and elicit this reaction, but it doesn't matter, you need to put him in his place.

Stomping up the stairs so he can hear you coming, wanting to heighten his anticipation with every step. He sits on the bed, facing the open door of your shared room, cute little nose twitching nervously. 

"Lay down. Arms above your head." You don't even spare a glance at him, not wanting to offer him even a morsel of attention as you open the bedside drawer and pull out your strap. You begin tying his arms above his head before moving on to his feet. He whines only once, knowing if he complained anymore this would become far worse for him. 

You straddle his hips, sinking down on his cock as he whines and cries. Babbling about how tight you are, how much he's wanted this. But this is meant to be a punishment.

So, you refuse to move, staying perfectly still watching his face twist into confusion before remembering why he’s in this situation in the first place. “You’re bein’ meann!” he pouts. You just roll your eyes and huff, “You’re lucky I'm even touching you right now, and you have the fucking audacity to complain?” 

But, you comply, slowly riding him, listening to his pretty whimpers. Soon enough, you feel his cock twitch inside you, squeezing his eyes shut while his foot taps rapidly against nothing in pleasure and you realize he’s about to cum. 

So you stop. 

His eyes shoot open and a loud sad whine is ripped from his throat from the loss of pleasure. 

“N-no! No, no, no, p-please move, mommy! I’m sorry for sayin’ that earlier, I don't want anyone but you, I don't need anyone but you! No one can make me feel as good as you do! Promise!” He whines, and as pretty as he sounds, you refuse to break, you can’t always let him have his way, this isn’t meant for him to enjoy. 

Three edges later, he decides he’s had enough -as though he has any control in this situation- and when you stop, he bucks his hips. Quickly being reminded of the gravity of his action as he hears you click your tongue followed by a burning pain searing through his cheek, making his pathetic cock twitch. 

You had backhanded him, sick of his brattiness. It was going to be his last edge, but no, he had to be a fucking bitch and now you’re pissed off. You slap him again, at least being nice enough to hit his other cheek, the both of them now blazing hot. You lean over, gripping his throat tight, choking him as you pull him as far forward as possible with his tied limbs. 

“You’re such a fucking whore, can’t even behave for one goddamn second.” You spit through gritted teeth, lifting yourself off of his cock and throwing open the drawer on the bedside table pulling out your new strap, watching his eyes open wide. You take your pants off to slide the harness on before redressing. He doesn't deserve to see your body. 

“W-wait mommy, that’s so big! i-i’ve never taken one that big!” You look at him, completely unimpressed. “You’ll be fine, this isn’t much bigger than my other one.” Taking the time to lather a bit of lube on your strap and and his hole you push the entirety of your length deep inside his tight ass without even bothering to prep him. Just like you expected, he took it just fine with only one or two grimaces. Refusing to give him a second to adjust you pull your cock out before ramming it all the way inside him over and over. "S’too much! M'sorry mommy, m'sorry!" He sobs, clicking your tongue and growling at him to shut the fuck up and take it.

"Should've thought about the consequences before you started being a fuckin' brat. You brought this on yourself, don't come crying to me now."

[calumfmu]

hi angel ✨

could i request steve stealing BILLYS GF this time? i know there’d be violence involved and it gets me hawt 😉

hi baby <3 here you go! thank you for waiting on it, like thank you thank you thank you, it's been a long time coming and I hope it delivers as much as I loved writing this.

Steve Harrington x reader (5k+ words)

cw: 18+, mdni, drunkness, swearing, hints of abuse (nothing too serious), smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, munch!Steve (love him, he will be missed)

He was a mess. Falling everywhere, sloppy drunk, spitting profanities at everyone who had looked in your direction, doing everything that you had begged him not to. But he was yours... right?

"Baby..." The word was drawn out, a sloppy wet kiss pressed to the side of your cheek. Pushing him away, you grumbled to yourself, pulling down your skirt where his hand had found its way to your thigh, pushing up the material.

"Billy. Stop."

The older man rolled his eyes, continuing his advances despite your best efforts to stop it. His hand continued snaking up your thigh, black cloth hitched up to expose the cotton white of your panties. A soft groan escaped his lips as he gained sight of your underwear, interest peaking at his eyebrows.

You caught his hand half way, his fingers itching to dip the material to the side. "Billy. Please."

With a sigh, he had pushed you away from him, irritation reaching its full height as he realized he wasn't going to get anything from you. Distance grew between the two of you as he scooted away, hands immediately finding the beer that once laid abandoned to his side. His eyes grew curious as he searched the crowd for anyone to stick his dick into, satisfy the craving that you weren't going to give into.

"We're in public," you seethed, dropping your voice down to a whisper as you took a look around you. It was a bonfire, celebrating the senior season coming to a close. Half of Hawkins High surrounded you, drunk off of their asses, yet you knew that rumors were already going to start from the way he had caressed you, finding yourself the topic of discussion among the hallways in the last few weeks of class.

Did you hear that Billy and his girl did it in front of the fire? They were so on each other, I heard the Pammy got hit with Billy's pants right before he fucked—what was her name again?

"Like it fucking matters," he spat at you, not bothering to glance in your direction as a blonde walked by him. Her Daisy Duke shorts were high on her hips, teased hair higher than ever as she rounded a corner, throwing a wink in his direction. Scoffing at the sight, you weren't shocked—everyone acted like you didn't exist in this relationship. "'We're in public. I'm tired. You're too rough, too drunk, too blah, blah, blah.'"

Pulling at your shirt uncomfortably, you looked around to see if anyone had noticed his words, voice dripping with intoxication and growing louder by the second.

"Can we not do this right now?"

"So when do you want to do it?" He was borderline shouting at this point, a few pointed glances in your direction from nearby teenagers. Crumbling under their looks, you shifted uncomfortably. "I barely get any anymore."

You remained silent instead choosing to look down at your clasped hands, fingers toying together at your lap. Embarrassment tinged at your cheeks, coloring the skin as your boyfriend grew more angry by the second. This attitude change wasn't something you weren't used to, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.

You placed a hand on his arm, briefly closing your eyes at the way he pulled away when that same blonde looked in his direction.

"Maybe we should get out of here," you whispered, standing up. Billy's eyes suddenly found yours, that charming smirk you once fell for crossing his face. The flickering light of the fire made him look beautiful, a fallen angel that was tempting you in every way possible.

He stood up, standing in front of you with a hand on your hip. Chugging the rest of his beer, he tossed the empty glass bottle to the side.

"You want to leave with me, baby?" He grinned, stepping even closer to you. His hand graced the side of your face, cold fingers from the beer dancing across your temple. It made you want to pull away.

You grabbed his wrist, leaning into the hand as his other hand began to rest on your lower back. It was the way he pulled you in, the heat from his body pressing into yours that made you melt, his scary demeanor fading as he became Billy—that charming man who was so beautiful, so scary to everyone but you.

"I could... make it up to you," his voice was low as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Apologize for my behavior, baby."

You nodded, leaning into the touch. Eyes fluttering closed, you felt comfort in this moment.

It didn't last for long.

One quick grab under your skirt, you were jumping away from him, pushing at his chest. The quirk of his eyebrow fueled the irritation in your chest, his cocky smug attitude returning, sweet Billy dissipating.

"Absolutely not. I'm done," you rolled your eyes once more before you began to walk away, only to get caught by the harsh grab of your shoulder. Pulling you into him, he squared up in your face, eyes inches away from yours. Keeping your face straight, you met his gaze, not faltering despite wanting to crumble.

Maybe it was the shots you had earlier, fueling this confidence that you never had before when it came to him. He always decided things, he was the shot caller when it came to your break ups and make ups, never you.

"What was that?" Alcohol wafted off of his breath, hitting you in the face harshly.

"I said I'm done, Billy," you pulled away from him, looking down at your shoes as you noticed a few pair of eyes on the two of you. Great, more rumours were the last thing you needed come Monday morning.

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the sky, constellations partially hidden by the overhang of evergreen trees.

"We're not done until I say we're done, baby," he laughed, winking at you as a scowl crossed your features.

Taking a step away from him, you shook your head, "Watch me... baby."

It was dramatic, the way that you scurried away, pushing away hoards of teenagers that were surrounding the fire. You could've gave yourself a round of applause the way you handled it, the tears didn't even come until you landed in a clearing, the rocks of the boulders encasing the fire long behind you.

You didn't hear the crunch of leaves coming up behind you as you wiped your face, hot tears cast away by your hands. Your sniffles covered the uncomfortable cough feet away, a stuffy nose blocking the stench of a cigarette from that same direction.

Jumping away from the hand that was placed on your shoulder, you shoved the person, screaming.

Someone who definitely wasn't Billy hit the ground, a groan leaving him and a cigarette flying in the opposite direction. Two hands were held up in a surrender, apologies thrown.

"Jeez, it's me! I'm sorry," the young man groaned some more, standing up as he shook the broken leaves off of him, leaning down to find his discarded cigarette. Placing it in his mouth again, he ran a hand through his hair, face turned up in discomfort as he rubbed out his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, you're strong."

Exasperated, you huffed, stomping your foot down as your heart began to settle down behind your rib cage.

"Jesus, Steve, you scared me!"

"Yeah, no shit," he offered the cigarette to you in which you declined, waving your hand in his direction. Eyeing you under the moonlight, he took note of your tears, eyes shifting uncomfortably over the highlights of your face. "Oh... egh—Are you crying?"

Laughing, you turned away from him to wipe away the sting of hot tears once more.

"As many girls as you get, Steve, you still don't know how to speak to one?"

His smile was wide around the tobacco stick in his mouth, eyebrows raising at your comment. It was the most of a conversation you had with the man, normally harsh words you heard in passing as he exchanged them with your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? The rivalry between them was something you never could make sense of, pointless arguments and overt male aggression.

"Just asking, hon," he shrugged, taking a slow drag. The smoke billowed from his mouth, your eyes drifting through the clouds. It was in this light you realized just how good he looked—scratch that, you've always noticed how good he looked, you just couldn't voice it before. You didn't know who Billy was going to kill first if he had ever found out—you or Steve.

"So what's wrong? He finally did something stupid enough to fuck up the one good thing in his life?"

A small gasp left your lips as soon as the words left his. A smirk was on his face, teeth exposed slightly as he peered at you.

"Steve..." You warned, shaking your head as you tried to stop his whole thing from even beginning. The breakup was fresh on your mind, something you needed to not think about, but could only, as it was literally minutes before.

"What?" He laughed, tucking his hand into his pocket. "I was waiting for him to finally be an idiot in the right way."

You could barely bring up the nerve to be irritated at him, this sudden change of Steve being something that you weren't used to. The both of you had been aware of each other's existence, normally passing through halls giving each other curious eyes, nothing too out of pocket that would've sounded off alarms in Billy's head.

"I just-I don't want to talk about him right now," you huffed, turning your whole body to face him. He gave you a once over, eyebrows raising at your remark. His cigarette was tossed to the side, long forgotten as he stepped closer to you.

"We don't have to talk about him," he said, shrugging slightly. A small smile began to creep up on your face as he adopted the infamous persona he was known for around Hawkins—or used to be known for. "We actually don't have to talk at all."

"Oh, is that so?"

You could match his energy in this moment, grateful that it was coming from him and not your ex. It had gotten to a point in your relationship where sex had been so common, it felt like a chore for you, rather than something you enjoyed with the blond. With Steve, you were willing to explore what type of feelings he would bring out of you.

"Absolutely, hon." His teeth dug into his bottom lip, upper lip curving into a smile at the same time. Stepping closer to you, he wrapped an arm around you, leading you to walk in the direction of the bonfire.

The leaves underneath you crunched as you faltered in your gait, feet turning inward.

"I don't want to go back out there," your voice was thin, less confident than you had been earlier. "He's... I don't want to see him."

Steve was confused as he looked at you, eyebrows furrowing before he recalled the way you looked seconds earlier, hot tears running down your face, slightly smudging the mascara that clung to your eyelashes. It was like a switch flipped, that bit of concern returning yet again. Your insecurities were poking out at every seam, revealing yourself under a gaze of perceived scrutiny.

"We don't have to—no, I could take you home," he said, nodding at his own words. He waited carefully before your reaction came, a slight shift in the head that gave him the green light.

The two of you walked in a different direction of the bonfire, you heard the fading of the throes of teenagers, the blare of music from a stereo fading, and the crackling orange of the flames dying down. Another world of Hawkins was entered, the calming of the night air, chirps of cicadas surrounding the two of you. It was the perfect night, early summer setting in.

"So... what was the fight about?" Steve's voice interrupted your appreciation of the night. Your shoulders stiffened at his words.

"He's just... Billy," you decided on saying, deep sigh at the end of your statement. That was enough for him, a hum of agreement given.

Just as you opened your mouth to continue speaking on the matter, you caught sight of the man of the hour—Billy himself, leaning against a tree, making out with that same blonde girl from before. He pulled away as he heard the two of you, his lip turning up in disgust. The sight had you sick to your stomach, irritation peaking out of you.

"What the fuck, Harrington," he muttered to himself, slightly shoving the girl to the side. Her yelp of protest was lost amongst the three of you, Steve immediately perking up at Billy heading his way. "So now you think you can take my girl away from me?"

Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on Steve's arm, beginning to pull him away from the scene. He was just as stubborn as Billy in that moment, feet digging into the dirt, sticking himself into place. You barely paid mind to the blonde girl scurrying off in the distance, avoiding the confrontation that was brewing amongst the trees.

"Last time I checked, you fucked up," you would like to think that Steve was confident in this matter, but you heard the shakiness behind his voice. His crown of Hawkins had long been knocked off when Billy Hargrove stepped into town, but now, it was a matter of showing face.

"Is that right?"

Billy gave a shove to Steve, sending him flying backwards, feet stumbling over each other as he tried to maintain his balance. You yelled at Billy, voice cracking through the air as this night had taken a turn for the worst.

"Leave him alone!"

The only reply you got was that stupid smirk from Billy, his tongue running over his lips as he balled his fist into Steve's shirt, pulling him to eye level. They were both fuming at this point, heavy breath leaving their chests, features turned up into an angry frown, eyes searching each other as they dared not to make the first move.

"Why don't you leave it, man?" Steve asked, shoving his fingers into Billy's shoulder. It flew back, but Billy stood his ground, eyebrow quirking up as he saw Steve's challenge.

He tossed Steve back yet again, a loud groan punched from his chest as his back hit a tree trunk, head clunking back against it. Your heart lurched in your chest, cringing at the impact he made. Now that it dawned on you, you could name several times where Steve had gotten his ass handed to him, a few times by Billy himself, the poor boy couldn't defend himself to save his life.

"Steve, come on. Let's just go," Your voice was shaky as you took a few steps towards the two teenage boys. Billy casted a glance towards you, a cut of his eyes that had you sinking back a few feet, returning to the spot you once had.

"Yeah, Steve," Billy teased, his voice raising a few octaves to imitate you. He grabbed the boy yet again, tossing him to the ground as he tried catching his breath that was knocked out of him. Steve rolled once, twice, before catching himself on his feet, standing up on shaky legs.

He was persistent, you could give it to him.

"It's not worth it," Steve shook his hair, leaves falling out of the mane. His teeth had caught his lip in the roll, a drop of blood staining his pearly white teeth.

It was like those words sobered Billy up, his back straightening as he zoned in on the other teenager. Stopping inches from him, he turned to look at you, giving you a once over as he processed the words. Your heart caught in your throat, you dared not speak—worried that your words would have him change his mind and further hurt Steve.

"You're right," Billy opted for, turning to give Steve one last shove. His foot stumbled over a tree branch, the final push sending him flying onto his ass, a loud oof leaving him. "She's not."

And with that, Billy was gone, stomping through the trees, a harsh shove given to you as his shoulder collided. You couldn't be bothered by the sting, your feet took you over to Steve before you could even think about it.

"Are you okay?" You rushed, running your hands over his body. You could pretend you were dusting off the leaves, but really you were checking for broken bones, bruised limbs, anything that might've gotten hurt in the assault.

He groaned, standing up slowly before using his thumb to wipe away the smudge of blood. Giving you a toothy grin, he wiggled his eyebrows at you, making light of the situation.

"I really showed him, huh?"

You wanted to scream at him, call him an idiot for even thinking it would be a good idea to take a stand against Billy. But all you could really do is laugh, your cheeks pulling into a smile as Steve began to lead you to his car in the clearing, only a few feet away from the site. The two of you walked in silence, uncomfortable swallows hidden by the crunching of the leaves, you blinking back tears as you looked through the throes of trees.

With a groan, he settled into the driver's seat, his face turning up in pain as he shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't sound okay," the worry in your voice was unmistakable. He gave you a look, pressing his keys into the ignition to start it up.

"I'm fine, just... stings a little," his fingers were shaking as he held the keys at the start up, a slight shift in his movements to the left. Your eyes looked at his clothed abdomen, frowning at his movements were drawing attention to that part of his body.

"Let me see," you whispered, fingers already reaching for him. He complained, voice raising as you leaned over, a loud chit from you to get him to quiet down.

Reclining in his seat, he let you raise his shirt up to expose his side, a deep bruise already forming where his ribs would be. A small gasp left your lips as you ran a finger over the area, his muscles flexing as he leaned away from the touch.

"Ah, careful," he whined through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. It looked bad, but you knew that it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed.

“We should probably get you home,” you muttered, shaking your head as you recalled the events that happened. Typical Billy to get angry at something he started, not taking responsibility for any of his actions like normal.

Steve’s head turned towards you, wiggling his eyebrows as he processed the words that came from you. “Ooh, already?”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him, patience leaving you as you realized what type of game he was playing. Coming from Billy, it was one thing, but you weren't too mad when it came to the brown haired boy in front of you.

"Steve." That stern tone returned, your teeth digging into the skin of your lip to prevent your smile from shining through.

"Okay, okay..." He laughed, putting his car in drive so the two of you could flee the scene. The soft sounds of the radio overtook any signs of a conversation between you two. Before you knew it, the familiar neighborhood streets of the town came into view. "Hey, I'm going to swing into my place real fast to grab a new shirt, and I'll drop you off?"

His words allowed the opportunity to make itself known, your eyebrows raising at a chance to get back at Billy.

"Or I could just crash at yours?"

Steve's head snapped towards you, the car stuttering as his foot his the brake briefly. Your hand shot out to press against the dash, the seat belt tightening across your chest.

You cleared your throat, "I just don't want you to drive... being injured and all."

A small smirk began to creep up on his face, his head nodding at your words. "Yeah, okay... because I'm injured... and all."

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning to look out of the window as he began to pull into his neighborhood. Your heart pounded in your chest, warning bells sounding off in your mind as you weren't sure if this was the worst decision you could make. Being the gentleman that he is, he helped you out of the car and into his house as if you were the one to take the beating from Billy.

His house was huge, barren as if it were a show room, a ghost of a house that was for display only. You chose to follow him upstairs, your feet dragging behind you as the events were catching up to you.

He made himself immediately comfortable, throwing his keys down on his bed, pulling off his sweater from his waistline.

You gasped slightly, turning to face the door as his bare abdomen was exposed. Staring wasn't your goal at the moment, not trying to make yourself so vulnerable in front of him. Cheeks burning, your face was crunched up as you searched for something to focus on.

"Jeez, relax," he laughed, a soft chuckle behind his words. "Didn't realize I didn't do it for you that much."

"It's not that... you just..." You turned back to him, grimacing at the dark bruise that was already beginning to form over his shoulder blade. Sighing, you crossed the room to him, reaching out to run your fingers over the muscle there. "He really hurt you."

Craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he frowned at the sliver of the mark in his gaze. The muscle was firm in your touch, flexing under your fingertips as you didn't dare to press any more into the skin.

Steve looked down into your eyes, the lighting allowing you to fully see the flecks of amber in his eyes. A small smile was on his lips, his eyes darting around the features on your face.

"Your boyfriend's a dick," he laughed, voice dropping an octave.

"Ex."

"Ex?"

"Mhmm," you nodded, your own eyes darting down to look at the crimson color on his lips.

It was silent for a moment before Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. A perfect match, his own slotting into yours like they were made to be there. Slightly parting his lips, his tongue slipped into your mouth, staking claim against your own.

His hands were placed on your hips, rough fingertips dancing over the skin there. You took a few steps back as he walked forward, falling down on the plush bed as he towered over you. As the two of you fell together, you bounced on the mattress, Steve covering your frame.

Hissing slightly, he pulled away from your point of connection, his face turning up. Your hand reached up, palm encompassing his cheek.

"You okay?"

Nodding, Steve smiled again, soldiering through the pain that struck him in the lip. The cut gained from the fight had split again, bright crimson on the skin.

"Doesn't matter right now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He began to press them down the side of your face, one to the spot beneath your ear, the base of your neck, your collarbone.

You gasped slightly, fingers tangling in his hair as he began to trail lower and lower. He was pushing up the material of your clothing, exposing the expanse of your stomach. His mouth was warm against your skin, his cheeks becoming more and more flush as he reached lower.

He glanced up at you once he reached the material of your skirt, fingers itching to pull down the cotton, but hesitating once he saw the look on your face.

"Are you—is this okay?" He questioned, pressing another small kiss beneath your belly button. You nodded, spreading your legs so he could settle in between them. He made himself comfortable, his fingers sliding to the hem of it to push it up slightly. The white of your underwear was exposed, his eyes dropping down to look at it. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah, just—" You cut yourself off, tightening your fingers in his hair to pull at the brown locks. Groaning, his eyes fluttered shut.

A wave of wetness flowed between your thighs at this revelation, but that was something that could be explored later.

He gave you a small smirk before he pushed the skirt up to your waist. Your legs widened even more as he pressed his mouth to your clothed cunt, his tongue dampening the material. Breath caught in your throat, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Steve..." His name was choked out as he tongue began to run over you through your panties, the material becoming see-through in combination with your wetness.

His fingers reached to the waistband of the white cotton, pulling it down to expose your dripping cunt. Dragging them down your legs, you hitched a leg out to ease the way, curving it over the muscle of his shoulder.

Steve's eyes found yours as he let out a small blow of air on your clit, your muscles tensing as you arched your back at the feeling, hissing at the coolness. With a laugh, you tugged at his hair once more, causing him to groan out loud once more.

"Brat," he laughed at you in return, reaching up to run a finger down your slit. He collected the wetness there before pushing the digit in, instantly curling it against your spongy wall. Your back arched at the intrusion, your eyes fluttering shut at him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he whispered to himself, pressing his mouth to your clit to suck at your clit. The feeling had you mewling, his tongue lapping down in addition to the thrusting of his finger.

The sounds coming out of your throat were lost in the room, Steve's own groans even louder than your own. His mouth parted further, tongue languidly running over your core.

Fingers tightening in his hair, you ground your hips against his face, knee curling up against his shoulder. It was heaven, what you found yourself in, a feeling you never felt before coming over you as he found himself home between your thighs. Your legs tightened around his head, pushing him even further into your heat as he licked at you.

Another finger slipped in, curling expertly alongside the other, that sweet spot inside of you having you quaking.

A particularly loud moan out of you had him removing his tongue from you, his eyes looking up through disheveled hair at you. Peaking open your eyes, you glanced down, almost fainting at how beautiful he looked between your legs.

He kissed your inner thigh, leaning his cheek against the skin, "Still good, hon?"

Taking a deep breath, you whined at the lack of contact, his fingers still inside you.

"Steve, please."

He rubbed his cheek against your thigh, fluttering his eyes down to look at his fingers inside of you. Moving them slowly, it had you breathless, your head thrown back against the pillows.

"I just want to-"

Kiss.

"-make sure you-"

Kiss.

"-feel good."

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you pulled at his hair once more, guiding his face between your thighs. He listened to you this time, tongue running over you with a fervor, eyes sliding shut as he finger fucked you.

Wet noises filled the air, your groans getting louder and louder as he guided you towards completion. His own hips were rutting against the comforter, dick tenting the jeans he had yet to take off.

White noise began to flood your senses, vision blurring, thighs quivering around him. He toyed with your clit with the tip of his tongue, moving in between flattening it and dipping it down to lick at your fluttering hole around his fingers. A wave of wetness pooled around the digits, them curling repeatedly against that sweet spot.

"Ste-" You tried gasping his name, barely giving him a warning before you came, legs drawing up as you pulsed around his fingers. He licked you through your orgasm, pleasure coursing through you as he was relentless.

Overstimulation took you over, your fingers pushing at his forehead as he tried keep his mouth on you.

With a small smirk, he backed away, tongue darting out to lick at the wetness on his mouth, his fingers slipping out of you.

"Well..." He said, shrugging as he sat back on his bed. You felt exposed suddenly, a blush crossing your features as you closed your legs.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up, covering yourself with your hands. "That wasn't even that-"

"You can stop lying now, babe," He laughed, leaning over you to press a kiss to your nose. You fell against the covers once more, reaching up to run a hand over his cheek. Fingers dancing over the injuries on his face, you bit your lip, leaning up to press your own kiss to him. "I'm not Billy."

Glancing down and away from him, you nodded, "You're definitely not him. That I know for sure."

His finger reached under your chin, guiding your eyes to look at him. The intimacy of the moment filled the room, your heart aching with an emotion you had yet to feel with anyone before.

"Well, tell me who you want me to be. I'll be him, and that much more," he whispered, slotting his mouth into yours once more. The kiss was brief, more chaste than it was previously, but so much more passionate than it was. You didn't know how to feel in the moment, but you knew his words were true.

Jeez, it has been a while since I've written anything, but I just want y'all to enjoy it. I can't wait to make a come back to the writing scene, and I have so many things planned. Also, those who have sent stuff in my inbox, I have not forgotten y'all. Trust me, it is coming. (Did I get inspiration for the last line from The Notebook? Yes, maybe I did. Shut up--it was my first time watching it last week.)

Masterlist. <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Yo! I'd like to request prompt 41. "I wanna spend my life with you" for Richie Jerimovich, please :)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Old School - Richie and you prefer to do things old school.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

Richie realises he wants to marry you because of Taylor Swift.

It starts with a conversation in the park between you and Eva. The two of you are eating ice cream and discussing the merits of the ‘Midnights’ album vs the ‘Reputation’ album when he catches up with you. He’s still a little stressy about running late for pick up but the sight of you together, it soothes him immediately.

The discussion continues through dinner, shifting to individual songs, the both of you dissecting the lyrics. At this point he’s sure you could write a fucking thesis on the topic.

The thing is three months ago Taylor Swift was barely more than a blip on your radar. Your music taste like his defaulted to the 80s and 90s, now you’re the world’s most foremost expert on Tay-Tay because you’ve allowed his daughter to educate you. Another other woman he knows would have lost patience by now but you, you fucking take that ball and run with it because it’s important to Eva, and she’s important to him.

“You amaze me.” He tells you later that night when Eva’s tucked up in bed. You’re drying the dishes, wearing his White Sox t-shirt and those matching knee socks that do a little something for him. “Anyone else would be running for the hills right now but your standing here singing along to ‘Snow On The Beach’.”

You smile as you shrug your shoulders.

“It reminds me of you.” You tell him as you stand on tiptoes to put the plates away. “You know ‘weird but fucking beautiful’.”

Fuck if that doesn’t hit him right in the heart because no one has ever called Richie beautiful before you.

“Marry me.” He blurts out and you laugh before shaking your head.

“Sorry honey, that’s ‘Love Story’.” You tease him picking up the mug off the draining board and continuing to dry it with the cloth. “Carry on like this and we’ll be revoking your Swiftie fan club card.”

“No Joy.”  He says, getting down on one knee. “I mean it, I want you to fucking marry me.”

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