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ceaseless-exhauster · 2 days ago
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Two things to add:
One, I would rephrase “the elites” as “corporations and billionaires” or at least “people in power” because I think it’s more accurate and I tend to be skeptical of phrasing any groups as “the elites” due to the antisemitic history of the phrase itself
But far more importantly in this instance: referring to the dead internet theory as an “online conspiracy theory” is absolutely fucking WILDIN. Yes, it became recently popularized because of a (probably tongue-in-cheek) conspiracy that you, the reader, are currently right now the only actual human left on the Internet and the rest is bots.
However, the theory itself is rooted in actual philosophy, largely informed by Ray Kurzweil’s ideas about the Singularity, which was in its turn informed in many ways by the ideas of Isaac Asimov. I have my own problems with both of these dudes and their theories, but the general concept of a dead internet is inspired by and strongly compatible with both of their assertions, and they’re both well-respected and relevant contemporary philosophers when it comes to this field.
As of the time of writing this (January 2025/Shevat 5785) I think it’s safe to assume that saying we’re currently experiencing a dead internet is firmly in conspiracy theory territory. But dismissing the crux of the theory as a whole for the future is absolutely buckwild and ignores the truly disturbing rise in manufactured interaction on social media platforms, as well as the real-world problems it causes. Elon Musk used bots on X for election propaganda, for fucks sake, some of the programmers told us straight up.
The fact that Meta is just coming right out and admitting that they’re about to do it? Horrifying. It’s beyond correct that this will facilitate the rapid degradation of critical thinking skills, and I mean that in a literal way, not in a fearmongering “omg social media is rotting the youth’s brains” way. Not being able to distinguish technologically generated material from real-world material is one of the things that kind of hallmarks the idea of the Singularity to begin with. We’ve already been fighting a battle against propaganda and disinformation, and the people whom that benefits the most are about to fully automate the production of it.
Beyond that - what the fuck does this do to us as a species? What are our interactions going to become if we can’t distinguish them as being attached to another human somewhere on the planet? If the bulk of our accessible information starts coming from a series of distorted reflections of the same stolen property?
Perhaps MOST concerning to me in this moment is that I tried really goddamn hard to find some good accessible sources on dead internet theory to share, in large part because it’s been a hot minute since I’ve studied this stuff in undergrad. I fucking couldn’t. I’m four pages deep on Google, on my third variation of a search term, and everything still says it’s just an online conspiracy theory. What the fuck. What the FUCK?
I try not to leave most of my rants ending in despair, so I guess my call to action for people is this: support the ever loving shit out of your local libraries, even if the most you can afford right now is to check out books and use the computers every now and again; refresh yourself on valid and time-tested research techniques, and if you have the time and ability, compile and post or publish instructional guides for how to do it; collect (actual human-authored) print media when and where you can and guard it like a rabid dog - go to those yard sales and get the fifty cent grandma romance novels, make a habit to order something off ThriftBooks every month, ask your friends for old textbooks they can’t sell, put it all in a fireproof box or store it somewhere safe when you’re not reading it.
I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to say we’re looking at what’s tantamount to a war on reality itself - fight it by preserving the things you know are real, that you can touch or verify or make for yourself. It’s all valuable.
Ohh we're fucked 🤩
All of this motivates me to keep reading, learning, researching - I don't want my basic human skills to decline. I already see a tendency of people becoming lazy when doing basic research tasks on a daily basis and it's scary
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mxltifxnd0m · 1 day ago
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sweet smiles and sweaters ── . ✶ s. winchester
summary: you want to be close to sam as possible, which means you might crawl into his old hoodie... with him in it
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pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, pure fluff, like tooth-rottingly sweet, word count: 1.3K a/n: this is just me being obsessed with sam bc who isn't?? but this was inspired by a video i saw on my feed lol hope you guys enjoy this fluffy fic with sam hehe <3 sam winchester masterlist
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IT WAS SCARY how fast you fell for Sam. But how could you not? Sam’s smile never failed to make your stomach flutter whenever he aimed it your way. Oh, and how could you forget to mention the adorable dimples that appeared when he smiled brightly and never failed to make you melt in your seat. You could feel your heartbeat race at the sound of his loud and boisterous laugh when you said something funny and couldn’t help but laugh along with him; his laugh was the best type of pick-me-up you could ever ask for. 
Sam’s mind was one that you always admired; he was brilliant, and you always loved to hear what he had researched for the hunt you guys were on. You loved hearing him talk; the low timbre of his voice never failed to fill your veins with warmth as you stared at him as he spoke—no doubt with love in your eyes; you always smiled and nodded along as he spoke. 
Sam made you feel in a way that you never had experienced before—and it scared you. You never entertained the thought of the chance of him reciprocating your feelings because you thought he could never see you as more than as a friend, someone he hunts with, and someone to confide in—but not be in a relationship with.
The thought of confessing to him made your stomach churn and twist into knots (a rejection from Sam would probably hurt more than the time you were thrown down a flight of stairs by a vengeful spirit on a hunt). Besides, there was no way you were risking messing up the friendship you had established with him, nor with the dynamic you had with the brothers. 
So, your plan of shutting up about your feelings was your best bet to save you from messing everything up until Sam came in with a sledgehammer (a metaphorical one, of course) and shattered it completely. 
The two of you were chatting quietly through a movie (a terrible one at that) that was playing on the TV in the motel room the three of you were sharing. Dean was out at the nearest bar, and Sam was sitting next to you, his shoulder against yours. You chuckled at the joke he had made about the flimsy plot. You looked at Sam as your laughing subsided, seeing a soft smile on his face as he looked at you—fondness glinting in his hazel gaze. 
Sam unconsciously leaned toward you, his hand coming to rest against your face and his thumb swiping against your cheek softly. You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of his hand, but you were slightly confused at the action. You didn’t verbalize it, not wanting to break the spell Sam had put you under. 
His eyes flicked from yours to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Can I kiss you?” Sam’s breath was fanning over yours, resting his forehead against your own. 
You didn’t realize how close he had gotten but gave him a soft smile. “Yeah.” You murmured. 
Sam mirrored your smile before placing his lips on yours, drawing you in for the sweetest kiss you had ever gotten in your life (until that moment, of course). Your eyes fluttered shut when Sam kissed you, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours.
You were convinced that you were dreaming, but the warmth of Sam’s palm against your cheek told you that this was very much real and Sam was kissing you. It seemed to have lasted forever, but Sam pulled away from you slowly like he was reluctant to part from your lips. But he didn’t stray far; his forehead was still resting against yours.
You could feel your lips stretch into a broad smile, feeling giddy at the fact that Sam just kissed you. You slowly peeled your eyes open to see your favorite sight, Sam beaming down at you—something akin to love coloring his gaze as the two of you locked eyes with one another. 
Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face when the two of you woke up the following day after you guys had shared your first kiss but congratulated the both of you for finally getting over your fears and getting together. 
Now, you were at the table in another motel room, on another hunt in a random town in the Midwest, researching and typing away at your laptop. You couldn’t help but cast glances at your boyfriend, who was lying on your shared bed, his back against the headboard, as he flipped through one of the lore books he was able to check out from the library in this town. Sam’s brows were slightly furrowed, and you wanted to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows with either your fingers or a kiss. 
You smiled at the thought as you continued to look at Sam. He was wearing an old, worn Stanford hoodie that rarely saw the light of day, having been at the bottom of his duffle bag since he left university. You looked back at your laptop; you hadn’t found anything useful before looking back at him. You smirked to yourself before closing your laptop and getting up from the table you were hunched over for the past hour. 
Your hands went above your head, stretching out the stiff muscles in your shoulders and back before you padded over to the end of the bed where Sam was reading. He hadn’t noticed that you were there until you started to crawl onto the bed and towards him. 
Sam glanced up from the book to see your smirking face as you climbed up his body. “What are you doing?” He asked with a confused smile on his face. 
You didn’t bother with answering him verbally; you just shot him a sly smile before lifting the hem of the red hoodie he was wearing and crawling into it head first. 
Sam let out a shocked laugh, and an exclamation of your name fell from his lips. The book he was reading fell from his grip as you shimmied your way up his sweater. Sam squirmed slightly as your body shifted up his, plastering yourself against his. You eventually got your head through the top of the sweater, now being nose to nose with your darling boyfriend. 
“Hi.” You greeted him with a wide grin. 
“Hi.” Sam chuckled at your antics. His hand came to rest on your back as you straddled his body. “Is there any reason why you’re in my sweater with me?” 
“Do I need a reason to be close to my boyfriend?” 
“I suppose not, but you could have done without almost suffocating yourself in my hoodie.” 
You shook your head. “Nope, this is way more comfortable.” 
Sam let out a chuckle at your words, shaking his head. “Okay then honey.” 
“To answer your question, I was bored and I felt like it.” You weren’t exactly lying. Doing research on your laptop had lost its charm when you kept hitting dead end after dead end. But you weren’t going to admit that you just wanted to be as close to him as possible (there were days that you wanted to crawl into his skin, but you weren’t going to address that thought any time soon). 
“You got bored doing research didn’t you?” 
“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ as you answered Sam, and he shook his head at you. 
He kissed your forehead, and your eyes fluttered at the feeling of his lips on your skin. Sam pulled back slightly before kissing you. You sunk into the kiss before he pulled back, placing another peck on your lips. 
“Are you going to stay there the entire time?” Sam asked you as he picked up the book from the bed. 
You nodded. 
“Will that be comfortable for you?” Sam had a slight frown on his lips. Not that he didn’t love having you this close to him, but he didn’t think that his sweater was big enough for the both of you. 
“I’ll be fine.” You told him before shifting downwards slightly, resting your head on his collarbone, and closing your eyes. 
Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you through the opening of his sweater. He kissed your forehead again before going back to reading. 
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[join my taglist !; read rules before sending in an ask]
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francisofthespook · 2 days ago
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Bed Chem
Daryl Dixon x F!Reader
Warnings: Suggestive content, nothing too explicit
Word Count: 3195
Setting: Alexandria, Pre-Negan
A/N: Hi guys I'm super excited about this oneeeee ! When I first started writing for Daryl I had this idea in mind and it was what inspired me to start writing again. I waited a bit to write this, I had been working it out in my head and trying to figure out where to take it but Daryl is so Bed Chem coded in my head and you can't tell me otherwise. I hope y'all like it :)))
(Moderately proofread, but I will probably still go back in and edit it later lol)
(( I made the borders :) ))
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“I don't know… I think it's too much,” you said as you turned around, holding out the ends of the dress with your hands. “Girl, are you kidding? You look amazing, you have to wear it!” With an exasperated breath, you turned and looked at yourself in the full-length mirror again. You looked at Rosita in the reflection and gave her a small smile before admiring the dress again.
It was super cute, but you felt it was too much for the small party. You ran your fingers along the ruching at the neck, pinching and pulling at the buttery smooth fabric and trying to pull it up so it wasn't too low. The sheer blue baby doll dress fell to your mid-thigh and had off-the-shoulder puff sleeves high enough to show off your tattoos. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the bow at the center of the neckline before facing the girls again. “Okay fine.”
Maggie and Rosita quietly squealed in excitement at your defeat. “You guys look so pretty,” You marveled at your two friends. “Thanks to you! I had no idea you were hiding these gems in your closet.” Maggie said with a wink. 
It may have been dumb, but you had a thing for collecting cute dresses while out on runs. You knew that they would likely never get worn, but you kept them tucked away in the back of your closet in hopes that one day the world would be normal enough that a situation would arise where you could finally wear them. This was kinda one of those situations.
Alexandria had been your ‘home’ for the past two years. You had stumbled upon Aaron while searching for a new campsite, and ever since then you had been happy to call yourself an ‘Alexandrian’. Life had been pretty normal, nothing like it used to be, but normal enough. Until Rick’s group arrived.
Something about these people felt different, you could just tell they had been through it. They all seemed pretty unsure at first, not wanting to trust that this place could be real. But slowly, they began to let their walls down and accept that this was a safe place. Well, as safe as it could be. 
It was Deanna’s idea to have this little party. Although the newcomers had been settling in, it was still very obvious that there was a divide. In hopes of blurring that line, Deanna suggested that we throw a party. Her thinking was that if we all got together and had a good time, we would feel more ‘unified’ as a people. You had been trying on your own to make friends with the newcomers, and Maggie and Rosita were the most receptive to your attempts at friendship. 
You had been hanging out with them for about a week now, and anyone who didn’t know you guys would have thought you had been friends since birth. Something about the two girls just resonated with you, you understood each other in ways that the others couldn't. So you were more than happy to share your small collection of dresses with them when the party was announced. 
“What are we waiting for, let's go!” Maggie announced, and the three of you did final looks in the mirror before walking over to Deanna’s house. 
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The house was more packed than you had ever seen it before. The three of you squeezed your way in and found a spot in the far corner of the living room. Soft music was playing over the speakers as everyone mingled. It warmed your heart to see everyone finally opening up, and you hoped that this would lead to strong bonds between the two groups. 
“I’m gonna go find Abraham,” Rosita said, leaning in before continuing “Show off my cute dress.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I gotta go find Glenn too, see what he thinks of mine,” Maggie said with a smile. “I have a feeling you guys won't be at this party much longer…” You said, laughing. “We’ll be sure to come find you before we leave,” Rosita replied, giving you a playful shove. “You sure you’re okay on your own for a bit?” You looked over to Maggie, rolling your eyes. “Guys, I'll be fine, you go have fun! I’m gonna get a drink” The three of you gave each other small waves as you went your separate ways.
You made your way over to the makeshift bar, waving and saying small hellos to the people you passed. The options were limited, but you grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and some orange juice to make yourself a mimosa. Taking a sip, you turned around to go look for Aaron, but as you turned you bumped into someone. The stranger reached out and grabbed your shoulder to help steady you before you fell. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”
The stranger let his hand linger on your shoulder for a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He swiftly removed his hand and took a step back, grunting “S’fine.” You didn’t recognize this man. He definitely wasn’t from Alexandria, you would have recognized him. But you didn’t recognize him from Rick’s group either. The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while looking down at his shoes, he seemed a bit shy. “Are you from Rick’s group? I haven't seen you around…” He hesitantly made eye contact with you and nodded. “Yea.”
He had a certain aura to him that left you needing to know more. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not usually the type of guy that you would have gone for in the old world, but you couldn't help admiring this man. He had a sharp jawline, long dark brown locks, and the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. His sleeveless jacket showed off his tanned arms that were muscular, but not in an overwhelming way. You never liked guys that were too muscular. And not to mention his accent, god the few words you heard from his thick southern drawl began to make your head buzz. 
You were about to ask him his name when you heard Aaron from the end of the bar, “Hey man! You get lost?” Both you and the stranger looked over to Aaron, and he gestured for the man to come over. Aaron noticed you and said, “Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” You smiled at him, “No not at all!” 
The stranger turned and gave you a small smile and a nod before walking over to Aaron. As he walked away, you were brushed by his scent. Pine, smoke, and sweat lingered in a cloud around you for a few seconds before it finally dissipated. You watched him walking away for a moment before your senses returned to you and you realized you never got his name. 
“Wait, what's your-” He was too far away to hear you at this point. You were left in a daze, craving in the absence of his scent. You were broken from your trance when  you saw Rosita walk up to the bar from the corner of your eye. Without letting him leave your sight, you tapped Rosita on the shoulder and whispered, “Hey, who’s the cute boy with the black jacket and the thick accent?” The man was out of your line of sight now, and you turned to see a confused Rosita. “Huh?” You pointed in the direction of where you last saw him, “The cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad,” you held up your arms and flexed to imply his muscular ones. 
Rosita looked at you now with a dumbfounded look, she laughed a bit before saying, “ You mean, Daryl?” Suddenly, you felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe he had a girlfriend or something... “I don’t know, I guess…” You said cautiously. She laughed again, “It’s nothing… he’s just… Daryl?” She looked at you and shrugged. You leaned in close and whisper-yelled “What is that supposed to mean?” She turned her attention to her drink and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know, he’s just… a little reserved. ‘Rough around the edges’ maybe?” It felt like there was something she wasn’t telling you.
“If he’s unavailable or whatever you can just tell me” Rosita looked back at you. “Honestly girl, I don't think that man is interested in like…anything.” She said, shrugging again and taking a sip of her drink. “Huh. Okay then.” Feeling a bit defeated, you took a few sips of your own drink while you and Rosita made light conversation. The rest of the night you caught yourself discreetly scanning the room, in search of Daryl.
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A few days later, you were sitting on your porch, waiting for Maggie to come over after she got off her watch shift. The sun was setting, painting the houses in warm orange hues. You swayed back and forth in the rocking chair while nursing the cigarette you held between your fingers. In the distance, you could see a figure walking in your direction. As it got closer, you recognized it. It was him. You tried to work up the courage to say something, to just shout out ‘hello’ at the least, but your heart was racing and you couldn't find the courage.
When he reached the front of your house, he glanced over at you. “Hey.” He said with a small wave as he continued walking. “Hey.” You responded in a shaky voice. Before he got any further away, you took one last drag and stood up. Walking to the edge of the railing, you leaned over it and shouted, “Wait!” He slowed his pace and turned around, taking a few small steps toward you. He remained silent as he stared at you expectantly. “You uh- you never told me your name.” 
He looked around briefly, almost like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Daryl.” Of course, you already knew that. But it was nice just to hear his voice, even if it was just for the duration of one single word. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a cheesy grin. “Well, it was nice meeting you the other night, Daryl.” 
He chuckled to himself, “You too.” You might be wrong, but you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch up in the slightest. “I’m (Y/N).” You were sure you sounded a bit goofy, but the scene you found yourself in felt like something out of a movie. The burning sky set his skin aglow, softening his rough edges. Certainly, this wasn’t the Daryl Rosita was talking about? 
He quietly repeated your name to himself, “(Y/N).” like he was testing the feel of it in his mouth. The way your name sounded in his drawl had you feeling out of breath. Am I really that easy? Is all it takes just for him to say my name to get me going? You felt like you were in middle school again, staring at your crush from across the lunch room, swooning over the way he opened a water bottle. Except this time, you were being acknowledged, the way he looked at you made you feel like he really saw you. 
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket. Until you heard your name being called out in the other direction. “Hey! We still on for tonight?” You looked to your left to see Maggie approaching you, wine bottle in hand. “Yeah yeah, I was just having a smoke while I waited for you, I-” You turned back to look at Daryl, but he had already turned around and started walking away. “I just uh- You ready?” You stuttered to her, hoping she hadn’t picked up how caught off guard you were.
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“Alright, spill.” You looked up from your seat on the couch to find Maggie handing you a glass as she sat down on the other end. “What?” You blurted out. She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). I saw you talking to Daryl as I was walking up.” You played it off as casually as you could. “Oh, that was nothing we just-he just- we uh met the other night. At the party.” She gave you a look that told you she wasn’t fully convinced yet. “And…?” This time, you took a big sip of your glass before continuing.
“When I was getting a drink, I almost tripped and he caught me.” You looked down into your glass, swirling the blood-red liquid as if you hoped words would appear and tell you what to say. “I never got his name so…” You took another sip. “When I saw him walking by this afternoon, I stopped him and asked him.” Maggie nodded, looking off to the side in thought. “It was just…kinda weird I guess.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “Weird, how?” You took another sip and you could feel yourself getting the slightest bit dizzy.
“Well, the way he looked at you…I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.” You reached over to the coffee table in front of you and refilled your glass, offering the bottle to Maggie after you did so. She took it from you and topped off her own glass. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She finally looked back at you and you saw the wide smirk on her face. “Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” The two of you burst out laughing and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
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3 glasses in you found yourself oversharing with Maggie. Your skin felt hot, your head light, and your cheeks warm with a tinge of pink. The two of you spilled details from past relationships and regrettable one-night stands. It wasn’t long until the conversation circled back to Daryl. “You should really talk to him.” You hid your face behind your hands, your glass long forgotten on the coffee table. “What if he thinks I’m being too forward!” You laughed at Maggie, “I wouldn’t even know what to say!” 
Maggie stood up from the couch, sticking her hands out beside her to help keep balance. “You go like this,” She stumbled to you and leaned over, putting one hand on your shoulder. “Cum right on me. I mean-Camaraderie!” Maggie fell to her knees in front of you laughing harder than you had ever seen her do before. You too, could not stop the laughing fit that ensued. Leaning over with a hand on your stomach, as tears left your eyes from the force of the giggles. 
You looked down at her, feigning doe eyes and now placing your hand on her shoulder. In your sweetest voice, you said, “Where are thou? Why not uponeth me?” It felt like you two laughed for hours.
After the initial high from the wine started to cool off, the two of you lounged on the couch, knees bent and facing each other. You were trying to come up with serious ways to try and get Daryl’s attention. “Don’t tell Glenn I said this, but I always thought Daryl was kinda handsome.” She tried to hide her small grin with her hand. “See! You get it!” She nodded in response. You looked at her and in a more serious tone you told her, “I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” She hummed in agreement. You started to slightly daze off as you imagined it.
“I just want him to pick me up, pull ‘em down, and turn me around” Maggie tried to bite back her chuckle. “What?” You turned back to her grinning. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I bet he talks real sweet while he’s doing bad things.” Just the thought of it had you out of breath. You groaned in frustration. Putting your head in your hands and shaking it while laughing you muttered, “I'm just manifesting that he’s oversized.” She laughed, “Honey, I don’t think you need to manifest that.” You looked over at her and groaned again, “Maggie, I think I’m obsessed.”
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The next few days you were in your head about what to do. You couldn’t find the right time or place to talk to Daryl, but you knew you needed to. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of him and it was starting to physically affect you. The most frustrating part was that you knew it would be even better than in your head. But just the fragment that you could imagine, based on how little you knew him, was better than any of your wildest fantasies. 
You had decided you were going to try and talk to him today. He had been going back and forth to Hilltop for various reasons, and his absence had given you the courage to approach him before he left again today. At least if things don’t go well, I won't have to see him for a few days. You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before leaving your house. 
Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. You waited a few seconds so that whoever was on the other side didn’t think you had rushed to the door. Putting your hand on the cool knob you slowly turned it. The old door creaked as it swung open, and you were met with a sight you couldn’t believe was real. 
Daryl stood at your doorstep, eyes locked on his shoes and hand on the back of his neck. “Oh, Hi Daryl.” You tried to contain the giddiness that was coursing through your body. “Hey uh- you free for a sec?” He slowly looked up at you and dropped his hand. “Yeah, what's up?” He looked around nervously. “I haven’t been in Alexandria a lot lately, but I wanna be.” You were stunned at this statement, what did he mean by that? “When I’m back next time, uh- was gonna see if ya wanted to um- go huntin’ together or somethin’.” 
You had to shift your weight to the side of your body that was still holding onto the door handle, otherwise your knees would have fully given out. You couldn’t hide the wide grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, I would like that.” He looked up at you and gave you the smallest smile. “Are you free next week?” His smile grew wider as he said, “I am.” 
Although not many words left his mouth, his eyes spoke clearly. You picked up a hint of lust, mixed with excitement and anxiety. You knew what that look meant. “I’ll see you next week then.” You spoke softly, slightly leaning your head against the door. “Yeah.” He gave you a small nod before shoving his hands in his front pockets and walking off your porch. Before he left earshot you called out, “Have a safe trip!” He looked back at you and smiled just a bit wider, before giving you a wave and walking toward the gate. 
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OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THOUGHT !!!!
also I feel like it's kinda maybe necessary to do a part 2 to Juno ???? lmk....
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antifainternational · 2 days ago
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This month, we're launching the Anti-Fascist Action Of The Month Challenge, where we call on you to take an anti-fascist action! February's challenge: Show Them Where You Stand! Wear an anti-fascist pin, patch, shirt, or hat. Put up an anti-fascist poster or sign. Fly an anti-fascist flag. Do something to show people that you oppose fascism and stand with the people targeted by fascists.
This action may seem small and insignificant, but it does three important things:
It tells fascists and far-right goons that there is opposition in the area, which may be enough to make them think twice about taking action in your community.
It also lets the people in your community who are targets of fascist abuse and violence that they have allies and supporters nearby who will back them up if they need help.
It encourages other people who feel the same way you do to be open, public, and vocal about their opposition to bigotry and fascism.
But Is It Safe? We don’t know you or where you live, so we’re going to trust you to do what you feel comfortable with here. That said, we asked the member of our own collective who is most frequently out around town wearing antifa shirts or hoodies about his experience. Here’s what he said: ”I’m a uhhh how shall I put this? A larger and more substantial looking individual. I’m also white cis/het. It’s not uncommon for people to mistake me for a cop! So it’s possible that my experience wearing antifa gear has been different because people are less likely to try to mess with me. That said, after wearing antifa shirts, hoodies, pins and the like everywhere, I have to say that the number of people/strangers who’ve reacted very positively outnumbers the negative reactions I’ve seen by 10 to 1! I can only think about two or three times I’ve had a negative reaction, and those times it amounted to nothing more than staring at me disapprovingly.”
OK, So Where Do I Get Antifascist Stuff?
You could make your own stuff! If you’re looking for ideas, check out our photo archive for some inspiration!
If you’re less crafty, you might want to buy some antifascist stuff to display. Best place to get stuff is from a group doing antifascist work and selling stuff to fund their work. You’ll find a list of some of those groups here. Our collective have been selling anti-fascist shirts and hoodies and donating the proceeds directly to specific antifascist groups and causes for a few years now - you’ll find our online shop here. The next best place to get stuff is from businesses run by antifascists and/or support antifascist groups to one extent or another. We have some examples of places worth checking out here. The one kind of place we would not recommend buying antifa gear from is for-profit operations that aren’t contributing back to the movement. These compete directly with anti-fascist groups trying to fundraise but pocket all the money they collect. If you’re unsure where the money is going, ask the place you’re considering buying from and then verify with the group(s) they say they donate proceeds to (if they say that they do).
Send Us Photos!
We’d love to see how you took on this month’s antifa action - if you feel safe doing so, please feel free to send us some photos (we don’t need to see your lovely face or other identifying features if you’re shy/security conscious)! Let us know if it’s OK for us to share the photos or if you want us to keep ‘em to ourselves.
What If I Don’t Like This Antifa Action Of The Month? No problem - feel free to skip ahead and choose one of the other 29 actions we came up with! Or go with one of the 40 actions from 40 Ways To Fight Fascists. Or go completely off-book and come up with your own action!
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revelboo · 1 day ago
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Revel I just wanna say you and other transformers x reader authors inspired me to not just get back into writing but straight up making a song for the first time. I genuinely feel like falling in love all over again when reading the way you describe these bots ��🩷🩷🫶
That’s amazing! I’m so happy you like how I write them and that you’re feeling creative!
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Even If It Kills Me Pt 15
Armada Starscream x Reader
• “Can you sing for us?” Gritting his denta at your soft request and the pleading chirps from his mini-cons, he looks down at where you’re all sprawled on him as your own personal heated berth. And he’s pretty sure his warmth is all you’re after. The mini-cons are probably just following your lead. And his voice isn’t cut out for singing. You know that. But you’re staring up at him, making your eyes big and he doesn’t really have a defense against that look.
• Hear him venting in annoyance and it’s hard not to grin when he starts singing that same song in his growling, rough language. Laying your cheek on your arms, you feel him ghost a servo against your spine. His warmth and voice spilling through you. Haven’t been able to actually just tell him that he keeps the nightmares at bay. The thrum of his spark and the little sounds of his internal systems soothe you. You’re almost drowsing when he stops and you sleepily lift your head, smiling when he gently presses your head back down with a servo. “No more lullabies. Those are for sparklings. Recharge.” He’s used that word before. Sparklings. Told you his mini-cons weren’t sparklings and not to spoil them.
• “Does that mean babies?” You ask and he vents. Because you’re not resting which means he’s not resting. “Little, helpless you guys?” There’s something in your voice. More than curiosity, but he can’t pin down exactly what it is. “Do you have kids? Sparklings?”
• “There’ve been no new Cybertronians sparked since before the war,” he murmurs, optics shuttered. Baby, alien robots. Trying to imagine if they’re actually babies and tiny needing teaching and care or if they start out full size and ready to go. “If you mean me personally? No, I’m not a sire.” That’s a pity. You’ve seen how he watches over you and the mini-cons. “I’m not sure that we can even create new sparks anymore.”
• Growling softly when you push against his servos and sit up on him, he drapes an arm over his face. Why can’t you rest? He has patrol first thing. “I’m sorry.” Peeking at you, because why apologize for something that’s not your fault? And Primus. Why are you leaking? Can’t even begin to understand how your little, organic mind works sometimes. But you’re upset now. Because there are no new sparks? Do you realize his species is dying out?
• “Stop leaking,” he grumbles, reaching to swipe a servo against your cheek and you catch at it, hugging it to you. “Primus, you really do act like a sparkling.” Pressing your face against his hand, you can’t explain to him why you’re crying. Can’t even really explain it to yourself. Just needing to get it out of your system and he leans forward, sending the mini-cons scurrying and indignantly chirping as he vents to stir your hair. “Please, stop?”
• “Sorry,” you manage, smiling up at him. “I’m okay. Really.” You say that, but you’re still clinging to his servo like he’s safety. And you’re not okay, he’s sure of that. Wants to ask, but something about your expression makes the words fail him. Realizing that this isn’t as simple as sharing old scars. This is something else entirely. Watches you scrub at your face, avoiding his optics, then open your arms for Runway, the mini-con immediately cuddling up against you. What had that been about?
Previous
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mejaemin · 1 day ago
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how to kick someone out of your house - park jisung
day one of my valentine’s day countdown! ♡
wc: 0.7k
summary: you and jisung would never host hangouts for the sole reason of hating the idea of having to kick them out. what better way to do so than avoiding it altogether?
warning: socially anxious ji and reader, this is literally so me, fluff, featuring the rest of dream! ji and reader get very much babied in this but its cute
an: this was heavily inspired by my own hatred for inviting people over, because jisung and reader’s dilemma is so real !!! how are you supposed to tell people when they need to leave ?!?! i feel like there isn’t a single way that isn’t like kinda mean
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
the group is small, only being filled with jisung’s main friends but it feels so much bigger. they can get quite loud, altogether creating a sound loud enough to compensate for a small crowd. you’re tucked into his arm, watching a tv show that no one else is paying attention to while the boys engage in whatever wild conversation they’re having. some are making odd or inappropriate jokes, but you’re too preoccupied to laugh at any of it.
truthfully, you’d been dreading this get-together as soon as it was brought up. you already dealt with people enough today as work, but it was special for jisung and despite him not giving you much warning to mentally prepare, you still went to make him happy. it was quite overstimulating, and they’ve been over for quite a while, and you sleepily rub your eyes with a pout while you rest your head on jisung’s shoulder.
you can tell he’s starting to get there too, not being as responsive to the conversation. he leans back a little more against the couch, slouching and bringing you with him. after a few more detached responses, he pulls his phone from his pocket and begins texting you, looking at you expectantly.
ji 🐹: do you also really want everyone to go home or is it just me?
you: no, me too.. i’m so tired i can barely keep my eyes open ;(
ji 🐹: this is why i hate having them over.. how am i supposed to say, “i’m tired, can you get out now?” that’s so scary (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)
you: babyyy i cant do it either.. i’m no better than you!
ji 🐹: maybe we just fall asleep here? do you think they’ll get the message?
you: let’s do it!! anything to avoid having to say it out loud..
after shutting both your phones, you can’t help but giggle at your conversation. you’re both so similar, anxious and dreading the idea of confrontation. jisung’s arm wraps around your shoulder a little tighter, allowing you to rest your head on his. with your knees to your chest, you bring the blanket a little closer, covering you and him (mostly you) with it. you pull the oversized hood of jisung’s hoodie over your head, and finally let your eyes shut. eventually he falls silent and the weight of his head lands on yours, and you eventually fall asleep. one of the many skills you’ve developed since dating jisung was the ability to tune out his friends voices, and it’s something you’re very grateful for in this moment.
after a good while, your eyes finally open, and your heart nearly leaps out of its chest. everyone’s gone now, and not only is it dead silent but the lights were shut off. when you pull out your phone, immediately going to check the whereabouts of your guests, you finally relax into the back of the couch. the boys left messages in your shared group chat, taking pictures of you two sleeping while cooing about ‘how cute the babies are when they’re sleepy’ and how they were ‘soso responsible and helped put you both to bed’. looking down, you see the fluffy comforter from jisung’s bed over your laps. next to you, the boy himself is still asleep, neck in an incredibly uncomfortable position as he drools into his hand.
snapping a picture, you send it to them with a thank you message before shutting your phone off and kissing jisung awake. his brows furrow, putting his hands out in front of him as he sits up.
“hey, don’t.. don’t do that when they’re.. oh.” always so shy in front of his friends, he leans away from your lips before his eyes fully open and he notices their departure.
you smile, albeit tiredly, using your sleeve to wipe the corner of his mouth before leaning in to give him a hug. he thanks everything he loves that the lights are off, hiding his flushed cheeks while you do so.
sitting up, you take a minute to stretch. “they left, finally.”
he’s already up, taking the blankets in one arm and yours in the other to take you back to his bedroom. “oh, i’m so happy our plan worked. i was really dreading having to say something…”
he lays down first, opening an arm for you to rest your head on before pulling both blankets over your bodies. nuzzling your head against his shoulder you get comfortable again, ready to fall back asleep. you don’t even bother saying anything, simply nodding in response. you’re too sleepy to continue making conversation, and you know he is too, both of you drained from having to talk to people for so long.
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
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00valentina-writes00 · 2 days ago
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Hiiii, is there any chance you can do something about Mel? X reader as fem as she is.🥺
If you don't feel comfortable with that, that's okay, thank you very much for all the art you give us.❤️
Gang- YES.
✞⛧ Basic Mel Medarda with a girlfriend headcanons ✞⛧
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✞⛧ Mel is naturally drawn to your presence, your energy offering her a rare reprieve from the constant demands of politics. With you, she feels safe enough to shed her carefully constructed mask.
✞⛧ Despite her poised demeanor, Mel is surprisingly affectionate in private. She’ll run her fingers through your hair or gently trace patterns on your arm while the two of you talk late into the night. Her touches are deliberate, as though she’s memorizing the feeling of you.
✞⛧ She adores spoiling you. Whether it’s an elaborate piece of jewelry that matches her own gold accents or a tailored dress that complements her outfits, Mel loves seeing you shine alongside her. She’ll often say, “A woman of your caliber deserves nothing less.”
✞⛧ Arguments with Mel are rare, but when they do happen, her diplomacy can make her frustratingly calm. She’ll insist on discussing everything rationally, but her tone softens when she sees you’re upset, realizing her usual council strategies won’t work in matters of the heart.
✞⛧ While she’s a master of control in public, Mel can be surprisingly playful in private. She loves teasing you gently—about your expressions, your quirks, or how easily she can fluster you when she leans in too close.
✞⛧ Her artistic eye means she notices everything about you, from the way your eyes light up when you laugh to the way you carry yourself when you’re proud of something. Mel frequently sketches little portraits of you in her spare time, each one imbued with a tenderness she rarely shows to others.
✞⛧ Mel is fiercely protective. While she rarely resorts to overt displays of aggression, she has a way of making her enemies feel small with just a look. If someone disrespects you, they’ll quickly find themselves on the wrong side of her influence.
✞⛧ When she’s stressed or lost in thought, she often seeks comfort in your embrace. Resting her head against your shoulder, she’ll let out a soft sigh, whispering how much your presence grounds her.
✞⛧ Date nights are a blend of luxury and intimacy. One evening she’ll take you to an elegant dinner overlooking Piltover, and the next, you’ll share a bottle of wine on the balcony, her head resting against your shoulder as you both watch the city lights.
✞⛧ Though she is composed in public, she isn’t shy about showing subtle affection—a hand lingering on your back or her fingers brushing against yours during council meetings. It’s her way of reminding you that she’s always thinking of you.
✞⛧ Mel’s love for you is patient and enduring. She sees your relationship as a partnership, one where both of you inspire and support each other. To her, you’re not just her lover; you’re her equal and her muse.
✞⛧ Mel’s love language is a combination of acts of service and physical affection. Whether she’s drawing you a bath after a tiring day or running her fingers through your hair as you rest in her lap, she loves ensuring you feel adored and cared for.
✞⛧ Mel adores your thighs. They’re her weakness, and she’s not shy about letting you know. She loves how they feel under her hands—soft, strong, or somewhere in between. When you’re sitting beside her, she’ll absentmindedly trail her fingers along them, her touch featherlight but reverent.
✞⛧ Her obsession runs deeper than touch. She’s enamored with the way your thighs look in anything form-fitting, her gaze lingering appreciatively. If you catch her staring, she’ll smirk and say, “Can you blame me for appreciating art?”
✞⛧ Ahem…NSFW headcanons ✞⛧
✞⛧ Praise kink: Mel loves showering you with compliments, especially in the bedroom. Her voice is low and velvety as she murmurs, “You’re so beautiful like this, my love,” while guiding you exactly where she wants.
✞⛧ Power dynamics: While Mel leans into her role as a soft dom, she loves when you surrender control to her, trusting her completely. That mutual trust is what excites her most.
✞⛧ Teasing: She has a flair for dragging things out just to watch you squirm. Whether it’s taking her time with featherlight kisses or keeping you on the edge, she thrives on seeing you fall apart under her touch.
✞⛧ Oral fixation: Mel takes her time when she’s between your thighs, lavishing every inch of you with attention. She sees it as both worship and indulgence, the ultimate way to leave you trembling and breathless.
✞⛧ Bondage (light): She’s partial to tying your wrists with silk or pinning you down. It’s never harsh; it’s about keeping you grounded, making sure you feel safe and adored while she takes control.
✞⛧ Her strap is golden—sleek, elegant, and every bit as commanding as she is.
✞⛧ She enjoys the visual of it, the way it contrasts with your skin. Watching you beneath her as she moves her hips in perfect rhythm, her confidence unwavering, is one of her favorite sights.
✞⛧ Mel is incredibly attentive when using it. She’s always in tune with your body, adjusting her pace and angle to ensure she’s giving you exactly what you need. And she loves the sound of your moans when she gets it right.
✞⛧ Mel’s favorite position is you on your back, your thighs hooked over her shoulders as she takes her time savoring you. She loves the intimacy of it—how she can see every expression you make and feel your body react to her every movement.
✞⛧ She’s also partial to positions where she can hold you close, like straddling her lap. Feeling your body pressed against hers while she has full control makes her feel both powerful and deeply connected to you.
✞⛧ Mel is a soft dom (I said it. Don’t @ me) through and through. Her touch is firm but never harsh, her focus always on making you feel adored. That said, she knows when to push just enough to leave you breathless.
✞⛧ Mel has incredible stamina. She’s used to long nights and demanding situations, so she rarely tires easily. If anything, she thrives on taking her time, savoring every moment and ensuring you’re completely satisfied.
✞⛧ That said, once the night is over, she’s all about curling up beside you, her arms wrapped around you as she basks in the warmth of your shared intimacy. Even then, she might whisper, “Are you ready for round two, darling?” with a teasing smile.
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rainix13 · 2 days ago
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It's Okay
masterlist
inspiration was this by @mommyownsmee
Natasha Romanoff x Agent!Reader
words: ~2k
description: after a few exhausting days and not talking about it, it gets too much to comprehend at last
Genre: angst / comfort (mostly comfort I think??)
Warnings: angst, mental breakdown, not really edited/proof read
It's litteraly 7am and I haven't slept yet, my brain is cooked
I don't know if anything makes sense
✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°✩✮ ⋆ ˚。⋆。°✩。⋆。✮ ⋆ ˚。⋆。°✩✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°✩
Sighing you entered your shared appartment, bringing the groceries straight to the kitchen.
"Baby?" the familar voice came from the office and despite your exhaustion immediately a smile makes it's way to your lips.
You hung your coat over a nearby chair and before you could even turn around, two strong arms wrapped around your waist.
"Hey Natty" you murmured, letting yourself melt against her. "How was your day?"
The redhead grunted in response and adds "Paperwork and recruits."
You chuckled, knowing exactly what she means. You had them just before they went to training with Natasha.
"How was your day princess?" She asks kissing your shoulder.
You turned around , letting your arms hanging loosley around her neck "Was goood"
"Mh, you look exhausted" she stated between to short kisses but you shooke your head.
"Not more than usual" You lied with a smile. It's an easy lie, a casual one. Not necessary but you didn't want to ruin her good mood. And Natasha bought it.
After another quick peck you pulled away completely. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower and then I'll make dinner, okay?"
"Okay, I'll finish my work 'til then. What are you cooking?"
"Pasta!" You shouted over your shoulder, already halfway in the bathroom.
As the hot water runs down your body it felt like everything just washed off. The build up exhaustion faded as you stepped out of the shower, leaving you with something raw. Something that made you balance so close to the edge of a mental breakdown even you began to notice it. You sighed, somehow hoping to get rid of that weight that makes it hard to breath. You looked up, in the mirrior meeting your own empty eyes. Natasha was right, you do look exhausted. Like something drained the last bit off energy from your body. And if you were honest with yourself, you'd know that that's also exactly how you've felt for the last few days. But instead you've drowned that in even more work and exhaustion so it couldn't surface. Not until now at least.
A familiar dizziness formed in your head and you had to sit down. Have you eaten today? Yes, you had a sandwich for lunch. Or was that yesterday? No. Nevermind, it was yesterday.
Stop that's not relevant, you want to breathe. Why did that exhaustion suppress everything else? Why does this come up now? Can your emotions chill for a second? Can your mind please chill the fuck out? Why is this happening now? You need to get up again. You've got things to do. Why do your thoughts feel so loud. Just shut u-
"You alright angel?" Natasha's concerned voice pulled you out of your own thoughts immediately. You eyes snapped up to her standing in the door looking down at you on the floor.
"Uh yeah. J-just sound zoned out a bit" you desperately tried to safe it but your voice was far too shaky to appear convincing. Even if you're voice didn't give you away, you're trembling hands probably would have.
Natasha said nothing, instead she walked over, pulled you on your feet and into a hug. Instinctively you bury your head in her chest, holding in to her as the dizziness came back almost immediately.
Your senses all focused on her now. The faint scent of vanilla mixed with her shampoo. How you felt her breath against your scalp, her hands on your back and in your hair. You heard her breathing. You closed your eyes, trying to let her presence ground you. Tried to let everything overtune your own thoughts.
"What's wrong hun?" the pure softness and concern in her voice were the last straw to make everything fall apart.
Hot tears almost immediately streamed down your face, you buried your face in her neck and clutched onto her shirt. An unwanted sob escaped you and before you realized it would happen, your body collapsed against the redhead. She reacted immediately, picking you up, holding you as close as possible.
Natasha carried you to your shared bed, laying down with you still in her arms. Her heart broke at how small and helpless you seemed to be. How broken your sobs sounded and how desperately you hold on to her. Like you feared she mights disappeare if you'd let go.
"Just breathe, I'm here" she whispers. You try to follow her deep breaths and after a few tries you're starting to get there. Your breathing was still short and shaky between your sobs but less ragged now. "Overstim-" your voice broke off into another sob and Natasha tries to pull you even closer. "It's okay, I understand" You knew she did. It's not the first time you were at the verge of breaking down because people were just too much in that moment and it wasn't the first time Natasha was there to keep you in touch with reality. It was the first time you had a breakdown, especially that bad tho. The first time she had to see you like this and you didn't appreciate that. She wasn't supposed to see you like this, you're supposed to be there for her when she needed you.
While she got up and left you for a second, you went down that spiral, getting stuck in a cycle of 'Get your shit together' and 'She deserves better'.
But a moment later, before you can get too far with those thoughts on your own the redhead came back, helping you to put on one of her hoodies before she pulled you back into her embrace.
"What do you need angel?"
"B-being alone-" you choked out and Natasha immediately retreated. Not rushed but without hesitation until you held her back and she met your pleading eyes. "w-with you? i-if than m-makes sense" you asked unsure. Part of you didn't want her stay, didn't want her to see you like this. But the stronger oart craved the feeling of safety and acceptance. Craved the way she could ground you and keep you in touch with reality. She nodded, getting back to you "Don't worry, it makes sense. We can be alone together," she reassured you. She was glad you wanted her with you. Glad you trusted her enough to be so openly vulnerable.
You were hit immediately with gratitude but when you tried to speak again you're choking in your own sobs again, slowly growing annoyed at your own inability to exist. Natasha noticed the way your muscles tensed at the failed attempt, she could almost feel you slip away again.
"shh it's okay. You're safe with me"
"I-I it's just too much suddenly. The past days were so exhausting a-and I don't know. I kept it going and e-everything went okay a-and no one noticed" you finally managed to say.
"I've got you, don't worry" Natasha said, pulling you even closer to her, if that's even humanly possible, for a short moment.
"It's just so sudden. I- I-"
"shh it's okay. Just breath, mkay?" she created just enough distance to look you in the eyes "In and out, yeah?"
You take a shaky breath, hands still holding on to the redhead's hoodie as if your life depends on it.
She just holds you tight, one hand softly combing through your hair.
She knows that you don't actually want to talk right now, that words don't make it better. She knows that hearing things would just add to the chaos in your head. So she just holds you, letting you breath her in until you calmed down again. You close your eyes and relax. Her even heartbeat, her scent, her hand on your back. All of her grounded you and finally shuts down the thoughts in your head. You knew she wants to say that she loves you and that it's alright. And she knew that you can feel everything she didn't verbalize.
You let yourself dwell in the feeling of safety as your own heartbeat normalizes again.
"Thank you" you mumured softly, taking a last deep breath before you untangle your legs from hers and want to get up.
"Where are you going?" Natasha holds you back and searches for your eyes.
"Making dinner, Nat. Haven't cooked yet" you explain and try to loosen the grip the redhead has on you but to your surprise she pulls you back, and wraps her arms around you, your back now pressed against her.
"It's okay, Nat. Just dinner" you softly argue, your voice still hoarse from crying.
"Stop being my over independent strong girl for now okay? I love you. Let me take care of you today" she pleads, her nose burried in your neck. You hate worrying her, adding to the stress she already has.
You sighed in defeat and nod "Okay. But I'm fine, really"
Natasha just huffed, picked you up and throwed you over her shoulder. "Nat let me dooown"
But she shook her head "mmh no, your my little princess" You can hear the satisfied smile on her lips, making you giggle. "Nattyyy" You try to wiggle out of her grip, still laughing and finally she obliges. "Okay, okay stop moving"
She sits you on the counter, pressing a quick kiss on your nose. "You stay here, I make some pasta" leaving no room for an argument.
So you just watch her, sitting on the counter, dangling your legs. How she moved so effortlessly. In a strange way her calculated but simple movements like chopping onions or just stirring the sauce made you calm down even more. You began to feel the slight burn in your eyes from crying, the actual softness of Natasha's hoodie and how ut smelled exactly like her. The stress began to fade, letting you breathe again.
After you ate you end up in bed again, watching some show you didn't really pay attention to. Your head was buried in Natasha's chest still craving every bit of comforting, grounding touch. "I love you" you whisper so quiet you're not sure Natasha could hear it. Any maybe that wouldn't be so bad because you know that she's able to detect the silent apology with it
But of course she did. She pulled you closer once again, her hand finding it's way to your hair combing through it. "It's okay angel. Just...try not to overdo yourself, okay? You don't need to handle everything on your own" You sigh at the statement, burying yourself deeper in your girlfriends hoodie. "But I should. Especially when it's just fixing something that's my fault anyway. And it's okay. I can handle it ...most days" Your breath turned hot and tears welled up in your eyes again. "I should." You add, angry at yourself.
"That's not true" The redhead pulls away and cups your cheeks, forcing you to make eye contact.
"No one can handle everything on their own. We're a team, remember? You help me all the time. Patch me up. Mentally and physically. So why wouldn't I be here to do the same for you?"
"Because you already have your own stuff to deal with..." You mumble hesitantly. You don't want to be a burden. You don't want to annoy her with your stuff. Not when you can or at least should be able to handle it on your own.
Natasha sighs, pulling you back in. "Did or would you ever not listen to me or try and help me just because you have your own things?"
"No..." you reply not sure how to explain that it's different then.
"Will you tell me when it gets too much next time?"
You take a deep breath, tightening your grip around the redheads waist. "I'll try"
"Thank you angel"
"I love you" you said, this time not saying it as an apology.
"I love you too" Natasha answered.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°✩✮ ⋆ ˚。⋆。°✩。⋆。✮ ⋆ ˚。⋆。°✩✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°✩
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mysterious-adventurer · 1 day ago
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Tequila (Baby I Still See Ya) - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
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A/N: I actually wrote this piece a few years ago, right around the height of Top Gun Summer. So, you might notice it's a little bit different than my other writing. At the time, I wrote it just for me and I never though I'd actually publish it, but here we are (if you like this you have @ij-brian-quinn-enthusiast to thank for convincing me to publish it). That being said, even after edits it's not the most inclusive piece in the world, and for that I apologize. Other writing posted on my blog in the future will be much more inclusive. This piece was actually loosely inspired by @sunlightmurdock's oneshot For Old Times' Sake so make sure to check that out!
Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Mitchell! Reader. Bradley and Y/N Mitchell share a romantic moment over a bottle of tequila at her mom's wedding but lose touch after Maverick pulls Bradley's application to the naval academy. Years later, after a chance encounter Rooster tells Phoenix all about it. Loosely based on the song Tequila by Dan + Shay.
Word Count: 4.5K
Trigger Warnings: Alcohol is a central theme in this piece and will be mentioned throughout, including an underage drinking scene. Lots of teenage awkwardness. Bare minimum use of y/n.
            'Clack!' The sound of pool balls colliding resonated throughout The Hard Deck as Rooster watched Phoenix take a shot in a game against Hangman. It was a quiet evening, the bar was almost empty, but then again it was only six o'clock. Maybe it was the heat, or the persistent blowing of the Santa Ana Winds, but something seemed to make the quiet evening stretch on and on with no ending in sight. The group of aviators had finally resorted to heading to the bar much earlier than usual just to try and kill the time. Much to their disappointment, other than the regular old timers who liked to sit around telling stories about Vietnam or Korea or, they were the only ones there. They had claimed a pool table in the corner and Hangman had wasted no time challenging Phoenix to game with fifty dollars on the line. 
        Phoenix smiled triumphantly as she lined up her next shot and on the other side of the table Hangman was frowning. His brows furrowed in concentration, silently begging for Phoenix to miss. 'Clack!' The sound reverberates through the bar again, louder this time, followed by the 'thump' as the 8-ball sinks into its pocket. 
        "Damn it!" Hangman reaches to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket
        "That's right Bagman, fork it over" Phoenix howls, drinking in her victory. 
        "Rooster" Penny puts a hand on his shoulder, her sudden presence causing both him and Bob to nearly jump out of their skin. She has a mischievous smile on her face and a shot of something golden in her hand. "The lady sends her regards-" Penny nods across the bar "and tequila." She presses the shot into Rooster's hand before returning to her post behind the bar. The entire group pauses to look over at the bar where she is sitting at the counter, her (y/h/l) hair falling in messy waves around her face as she shoots a brilliant smile at Rooster. He's still processing her presence when she raises her own shot of tequila in a silent toast, knocking it back and shooting him a wink. Just as he's about to return the gesture, a tall curly haired blonde, in a white t-shirt and leather jacket, saunters up to the bar and puts his arm around her. Then just as suddenly as she seemed to appear, she's leaving with the other guy. The aviators stare across the room quizzically for a few moments before their attention seems to wane. 
        "Alright Trace, double or nothing?" Hangman proposes. 
        "At least try to hang onto your cash Seresin, find someone a little more on your skill level."
        Phoenix abandons her pool cue at the table and saunters over to trade spots with Bob, as he claims her abandoned cue and she takes his seat beside Rooster. He looks pale, like he's seen a ghost, and he's still gripping the slowly warming shot of tequila in his hand. 
        "You going to drink that, or am I?"
        Rooster brings the shot to his lips, throws his head back, and then slams the empty glass down on the table. 
        "All right then." Phoenix notes how quiet he's being, knowing he'd normally have a smart ass remark for her. "So, who was that? And don't just say someone that you used to know, I need details."
        "Maverick's daughter."
        "I didn't know Mav had a kid."
        "Yeah, (y/n) Blackwell, her mom was a civilian Top Gun instructor, when my dad and Maverick were students, they started seeing each other then, but things didn't last very long between them after he graduated"
        "You'd think he'd mention her every once in a while."
        "He used to not shut up about her, she would come out and stay with him over the summers, but it felt like she was there all the time the way he talked about her."
        "Ahhh, so there it is" Phoenix nudged him in the ribs "you two grew up together...and I'm guessing there's some history there." 
        "No, not really," Rooster shrugs.
        "First of all, you are a terrible liar Bradshaw" Phoenix gives him a pointed glare "second of all I need details, because that girl has you looking like you've been hit by a Mack Truck and I have never seen any other girl so much as phase you. So, what happened?"
        "There's really not that much to tell. When we were kids, she was like an annoying little sister who was always kind of in the way and getting into trouble. And it wasn't just like we only had to deal with each other during the summer either, my mom was friends with hers and so we saw each other all the time, basically any time school was out. We drove each other crazy; we could hardly stand to be in the same room together for ten minutes." A small smile crosses his face as Rooster shakes his head "Mom always used to say that as much as we fought it was basically guaranteed we'd end up married."
        "I bet that drove you insane," Phoenix smiles
        "I'd get so mad at her; I think now she just did it because she thought it was funny"
        "Ohhhh, she definitely did" Phoenix takes a swig of her beer "anyway, continue."
        "Eventually, I kind of outgrew the childish bickering and basically just started ignoring her to hang out with the adults, and I guess that's around the same time that she developed a massive crush on me. Everyone could tell and I was mortified by it"
        "Let me guess, you were awful and just continued to completely ignore her."
        "Yeah, pretty much."
        "You can be such an ass sometimes."
        "I was a kid!" 
        "Doesn't matter, it's still a dick move."
        "Do you want me to finish this story, or do you want to spend the rest of the night playing pool with Bagman over there?" Rooster gestures back over to the pool table, where Hangman and Bob are still playing. With Bob unfortunately losing. 
        "Fine, fine. I'll shut up, please continue" 
        "All right, where was I, right she had a massive crush on me, and I was ignoring her like my life depended on it. Things stayed pretty much the same, until one summer she came out to California, I guess she was around sixteen and I was around seventeen, and I was just expecting things to be the same as they had been every summer. She shows up and it was like she was a completely different person, she'd gotten taller, thinner, her clothes were different, she had a different boy calling her every night, and she couldn't be bothered to give the time of day"
        "I'm assuming this is the part where you suddenly realized how gorgeous she was and fell head over heels in love with her or whatever?"
        "Something like that I guess" he chuckles
        "Works every time"
        "What are you talking about?"
        "You guys can be so oblivious." Rooster raises an eyebrow at Phoenix "If a girl chases a guy, most of the time she can do anything she wants, she can bring him the moon and he still won't be interested in her. But the second that she starts ignoring him and casually flaunting the fact that other guys are interested boom she's got him."
        "So, you're saying that she did it on purpose" 
        "Yes, and that you totally deserved it" she takes another drink and bumps her knee against Rooster's. He looks down at the ground and chuckles.
        "You're probably right"
        "Probably?" Phoenix shoots him a glare "No, no, no, you and I have established this I am always right." A smug look settles on her face. 
        "Oh really," Rooster raises an eyebrow "what about the time you said you could outdrink Hangman? Because the way I remember it, you passed out and I had to drag your drunk ass home, while Seresin was still going strong." The smug look falls from Phoenix's face, and a scowl replaces it.
        "Shut up and finish the rest of your stupid story" 
        "Well, I spent the rest of the summer kind of watching miserably as she went out with lord knows how many different guys. Mav didn't notice, he was too busy trying to figure out how to scare off all of her dates. I remember he called her mom, Charlie, freaking out over what exactly he was supposed to do."
        "That's hilarious, what did she tell him?"
        "Knowing Charlie, there's absolutely no telling what she said to him, but it must have been something along the lines of 'now you know how every man with a daughter in a 100-mile radius of you has felt'." 
        "Definitely how Penny's dad must have felt." The two laugh until they're both doubled over with tears in their eyes, just as they recover, Penny gives them a confused look, and they dissolve into another fit of laughter.
        "Okay," Phoenix, wipes the tears from her eyes, still trying to catch her breath "I still really want to hear how this ends"
        "Okay, okay, so my mom made fun of me that whole summer, she actually called me a lovesick puppy"
        "I can see it"
        Rooster shoots her a glare, before continuing " She and Charlie were pretty close friends. They met when Charlie and Mav were dating and stayed friends after they broke up. I actually remember mom giving Mav hell, when it happened. She told him that he'd just let the love of his life walk out the door. But, I mean, I guess it worked out for the best, at least for Charlie, because she ended up meeting Robert a couple of years later, and then they decided to get married, and Charlie invited mom and I to the wedding." Rooster pauses, staring out one of the bar windows overlooking the beach. 
        "Okay..." Phoenix says gently, noticing the dramatic shift in Rooster's mood "so what happened at the wedding?"
        "It was in mid-April, and I was still waiting to get decision letters, back from the schools I had applied to, of course the only one I really cared about was the one from the Naval Academy, and I didn't want to go to the wedding. Mom made me, so we flew out to Colorado. Robert's family has a really nice mountain chalet out there, so that's where they decided to have the wedding"
        "Were you nervous about going?" Phoenix interrupts. Rooster's eyebrows furrow in confusion. 
        "Why would I be nervous about going to a wedding in Colorado?"
        "Because you were going to see her, and you'd spent the entire summer before pining over her?
        "Oh, yeah" he chuckles "I think I was too busy worrying about acceptance letters to even think about it until we got there"
        "Yeah?"
        "Yeah, but it definitely hit me when I saw her at the ceremony" he smiles "her mom had asked her to be her maid of honor, so she was right up front with the rest of the bridal party for the whole ceremony. She was wearing this pink dress, and her hair was up in some kind of complicated braid crown with flowers in it, and she looked absolutely gorgeous." Phoenix rolls her eyes and mimics gagging. 
        "You had it bad" she teases. 
        "You asked for details; I'm just giving you what you asked for."
        "Fine, fine, so did you decide to make a move or what?"
        "Something like that" Rooster's voice trails back 
The Wedding Reception
                "Y'know, the maid of honor shouldn't be sitting alone in a corner, while everyone else is up dancing" Bradley smiles as he sits down beside y/n. 
        "Yeah, well when there's a forty-year age difference between the maid of honor and the best man, it's more weird if she actually is up there dancing with everyone else" 
        "Well, what about if the maid of honor danced with the son of her dad's lifelong best friend instead"
        "I guess that wouldn't be quite as weird," she cranes her neck looking around the room "if only I knew where he was." Bradley rolls his eyes, before standing and holding his hand out to her. 
        "You're funny Mitchell, real funny." 
        She shrugs as she as she takes his hand "I try." 
        Bradley leads her out onto the dance floor, guiding her hands around his neck, and then placing his own at her waist as they begin to sway to the music the band is playing. 
        "I'm surprised your mom didn't let you bring a date with you," he's trying to be subtle, to ask without asking if she' seeing anyone "or does she not like prom-date Josh?"
        "You have no idea," she snorts. "Anyway, I could've brought anyone I wanted, there just wasn't anyone that seemed right to bring to my mom's wedding"
        "Are you and Robert getting along any better now, or is it still weird?"
        She pauses for a moment, the question catching her off guard. Then she smiles, a small chuckle passing her lips. 
        "What?" Bradley asks 
        "You asked me to dance, then not so subtly asked if I was single, to which I not so subtly told you I was, and now you're asking me about my stepdad?"
        "Yeah, I guess I am" he grins sheepishly, realizing how silly it must seem. 
        "Well, it's not as bad as it was, but it's still a little weird, especially now that he's my stepdad" she glances over Bradley's shoulder to where her mother and stepfather are sitting at the head table, too busy talking to each other to notice her and Bradley together on the dance floor "I guess I just always picture Mom with someone a little more…fun."
        "I didn't realize he was such a stick in the mud."
        "Have you seen this party?" Y/n gestures to corner where the band sits. "They hired a string quartet to play the entire reception, you don't get much more boring than that."
        "When you're right, you're right." A comfortable silence overtakes the couple, and for a few minutes they just sway to the music. A devilish grin crosses Bradley's face as he leads her in turn. "I bet that you and I could make this party a little more interesting."
        "And, how exactly, do you propose we do that Bradshaw?"
        He leans down whispering in her ear "You, Me, and a bottle of tequila, what do you say"
        "I say, how in the world are we gonna do that?" 
        "Well, Robert paid for an open bar, didn't he?"
        "Doesn't change the fact that we're both underage."
        "That's true, but..." he trails off looking in the direction of the bartenders "I bet if the maid of honor made a scene, about something being wrong, that they would be distracted enough that they wouldn't notice me slipping off with a bottle."
        She grins up at them, their height difference, becoming more apparent the closer they get. 
        "Aren't you a troublemaker, are they really going to put up with that at the Naval Academy?"
        "Are you in or not Mitchell?"
        She shoots him a wicked grin as she drops his hands, and saunters away, leaving him alone on the dance floor. He stares for a moment, his mouth falling open in shock as he watches her walk away. He regains his composure as soon as he realizes that she's headed straight for the bar. As she marches right up to the bar tender, he disappears to the edges of the room to work his way around the back of the bar, dodging slightly tipsy wedding guests and his mother. All the while silently praying that whatever distraction she comes up with will keep the bartender distracted long enough for him to slip in and out without being noticed. 
        "The groom specifically requested for there to be a bottle of blue absinthe set aside for him and the bride!" the expression on her face is somewhere between angry and distraught. If he didn't know better Bradley would believe every word coming out of her mouth. 
        "Blue absinthe?" The bartender is looking under the counter and across the room to where Charlie and Robert are sitting frantically "I haven't seen any, I would've had to have it special ordered, no one told me."
        "No one told you?" She turns just slightly as if looking away in frustration "I swear those groom's men are useless" she turns to the side, placing her hand on the bar, and looking up to ceiling in thought. Suddenly she whirls back around. "Well, is there at least any regular absinthe behind the bar?" 
        "No, it's a pretty odd request, we usually don't stock it for weddings" the bartender looks down in defeat. That's when Bradley makes his move, slipping behind the counter and grabbing the full bottle of top shelf tequila he had noticed earlier and slipping back out, before the bartender even looks back up.
        "You know what" she looks over her shoulder, a strand of hair floating out of her braid crown " I don't think it's going to be a problem; they're so caught up in each other that I don't think they'd notice if The Pope walked in" 
        "Are you sure?" the bartender still look on edge
        "Positive, our little secret" she steps away from the bar, and glances around the room looking for Bradley. She walks a few steps in the direction Bradley went. Just as she starts to wonder if he took off to have the prize all to himself, she feels a hand on her wrist pulling her into a quiet, secluded hallway. 
        "I was beginning to think you'd taken off without me" she accuses. He dramatically places a hand on his chest feigning hurt. 
        "You really think I'd do that to you," he stumbles back a few steps "I’m wounded, really wounded" 
        "Stop being such a drama queen." 
        "Says the girl who thought I'd abandoned her, after I'd only been out of her sight for two minutes," he said, a mischievous twinkle filling his eyes. "Besides it's not like you and I could sit out in the middle of the party and drink this," he pauses before his tone changes "our mommies might see us." The two break into fits of laughter, clutching their sides. She slides down the wall to sit on the floor and Bradley follows, a fake plant obscuring them from view of the main ballroom. Bradley opens the bottle with a loud crack and takes a long drink before passing it to her. 
        "So um, from what you said earlier, I'm taking it things didn't exactly work out with prom date Josh?" Bradley asks as she takes a drink from the bottle. 
        "You have no idea," she snorts as she puts the bottle down on the floor between them, "he actually told me that we couldn't hang out after it ended, because he promised some other girl he'd be her date to somebody's after party." 
        "You're kidding" Bradley picks up the bottle again 
        "I wish I was."
        "What an asshole" he passes her the bottle again and she notices a drop of liquor still lingering at the corner of his mouth. 
        "Sometimes I swear you're the only decent guy I know Bradley."
        "Me?"
        "Yeah. You're always trying to look out for me when I'm at Dad's, you invite me out to do things with your friends, you bust me out of the house when Dad and I get into arguments, and you've even rescued me from boredom at my Mom's wedding" she takes another drink out of the bottle "besides, you're just a really nice guy, always complimenting people, always keeping your promises, you try not to be late even though you're always at least a five minutes late to everything and-" suddenly she trails off. "I'm so sorry I'm just rambling like a lunatic"
        "No, no" he reaches over and tucks a strand of hair that's fallen out of her braid behind her ear "I like it." She giggles a little bit, the alcohol already going to her head. 
        "I bet you do, considering I'm sitting here rambling on and on about how great of a guy you are" 
        "It wouldn't mean half as much coming from anyone other than you y/n" he whispers, realizing the alcohol is starting to affect him too as soon as the words leave his mouth. 
        "What?" she looks at him confused, setting the bottle down between them again. 
        "I said, it wouldn't mean half as much coming from anyone other than you" he repeats louder this time. 
        "What's that supposed to-" she's cut off as Bradley places a hand on her cheek and pulls her lips against his. The kiss is gentle, almost hesitant, and he pulls away just breaths later, trying to gauge her reaction.  A few seconds pass in silence, and Bradley's head begins to clear, making him suddenly self-conscious. 
        "I'm sorry I shouldn't have-" he starts
        "Shut up and kiss me again" she cuts him off, pulling him towards her, his lips finding hers again. 
        They stay like that for what feels like hours, tangled up on the floor, kissing each other breathless. Only breaking apart to giggle drunkenly at each other and to pass the bottle of tequila between them. The wedding reception in the ballroom behind them long forgotten as they get lost in each other. 
        "Oh my god, there you are" another one of Charlie's bridesmaids barges into the hallway, causing the two to jump apart. She takes one look at them, noting the lip gloss smeared across Bradley's face and the bottle of tequila between them "you have got to be kidding me." She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head slightly "If your mother ever finds out, that you were getting drunk and making out with some boy at her wedding she's going to kill both of us."
        "Relax Jackie," she giggles, stumbling as Jackie helps her to her feet "it's not some boy, not like Josh, it's Bradley" 
        "Regardless of who he is, it's time for the big send off and you need to be there," Jackie says as she starts guiding her back towards the main ballroom "and try to act sober." Jackie is practically begging, but it's clear the Maid of Honor isn't paying any attention, as she drags her feet and looks over her shoulder, to where Bradley is now standing against the wall, lip gloss still smeared all over his face. 
        "Bye" she says waving back at him.
        "Bye" he calls in response. The word doesn't hold any finality for either of them, in fact it holds the promise of something that is just beginning. Neither of them having the slightest idea that they won't see each other again for years.
Present Day
        "You made-out with Maverick's daughter, at her mom's wedding?!" Phoenix exclaims looking at Rooster in shock. 
        "Yeah" his voice trails off hesitantly. 
        "So, what happened after that?" Phoenix's eyes are lit up, now even more invested in the story, than when Rooster started telling it. 
        "Nothing" 
        "Nothing? What do you mean nothing"
        "I mean after that, Mav pulled my papers from the academy, so I stopped speaking to him, then my mom passed a few months later, and we didn't see each other again." Rooster tries to keep the tone of his voice even, but Phoenix can tell how difficult it is for him to talk about Maverick's betrayal and his mom's passing. 
        "You've got to be kidding me, you just stopped talking to her, because you were mad at her dad?"
        "I mean, at first yeah. I was so mad at him, I couldn't even think about talking to her but then," he pauses taking a deep breath "after a while, I wanted to talk to her, I just didn't know how to explain why I had just dropped off the face of the Earth for months. What was I even supposed to say?"
        "Uh, I don't know, how about 'hey I'm really sorry I was being a dick and stopped talking to you because I was mad at your dad, I hope you can forgive me'" Phoenix deadpans, giving Rooster a look that reveals just how stupid she thinks he is.
        "Yeah, well I didn't have you back then to coach me through everything" he fiddles with the shot glass he still has clutched in his hand before setting it down on the table. 
        "Do you still have her number" Phoenix asks, grabbing his phone out of the chest pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, and scrolling through his contacts "of course you do, who am I kidding, your phone is like a time capsule of everyone you've ever known." She opens the contact she's been looking for and shoves the phone back into Rooster's hand, "You have to call her."
        "She's with somebody else, or did you not see that blonde guy she left with" Rooster argues. 
        " It’s been literal years since she last saw you and she sent you a shot of tequila, which is a call back to what happened at the wedding, and winked at you, that doesn't exactly scream 'I'm in a happy committed relationship to me.'"
        "Well, her number could've changed, what if I call and it's not her." He's trying to talk himself out of calling, but by the way he's staring at her number on his phone screen, that he wants to.
        "Then you say, 'sorry wrong number' and forget it ever happened, no big deal" Phoenix shrugs. 
        "What if it is her" Rooster finally asks the questions that is really eating at him " what do I say?"
        "Just that it was good to see her and that you'd love to catch up" Phoenix positions herself so that she's making direct eye contact with him "You're not proclaiming your undying love for her Romeo, you're just opening the door to catching up." 
        "Right, just casual" Rooster looks more nervous than Phoenix has ever seen him, shifting in his seat as he stares down at his phone. 
        "Exactly, just call her."
        It's the final push that Rooster needs to hit dial. The phone rings once, twice, three times, Rooster looks over at Phoenix who's watching him intently, four times. Finally it turns over to voicemail. 
        "Hey, sorry I can't get to the phone, leave me a message."
        Rooster's muscles visibly relax when he hears her voice on the other end of the line. The phone lets out a long beeping sound, signaling that it's recording. 
        "Uh, hey it's Bradley. It was really great seeing you this evening, I'm gonna be in town for a while and I'd love to catch up, um call me back when you get the chance." Rooster puts the phone down with a sigh, his heart still racing. 
        "Now what?" Phoenix asks. 
        "Now we wait, I guess." A moment of silence passes between the two friends as they both take in the events of the evening. 
        Their reverie is suddenly interrupted as cheering comes from the pool table where Fanboy is clapping Bob on the back and Hangman is scowling as he hands over his second fifty-dollar bill of the night. 
        "Hey Bagman! I thought I told you to play someone more your speed and hold onto your money" Phoenix calls as she stands and walks back over to the pool table, as Rooster stares at his phone, still lost in the memories of a Colorado wedding and the taste of tequila.
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A/N: I hope you liked it! I did actually write a sequel to this piece and I'm planning to post in about a month or so. But, if this post reaches 10 reblogs or someone guesses what song I used to write the sequel (Hint: it's a Taylor Swift Song) I'll go ahead and post it early.
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rodger-eyeballis · 1 day ago
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” HELLO EVERYONE, GUYS!! DO NOT PASS ㅤㅤㅤㅤ BY, THIS IS AN ADVERTISEMENT ㅤㅤㅤㅤ FOR A LITERARY CLUB!
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I have the honor to introduce you: the first and most ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ important president of the circle associated with ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ librarianship and preserving the memory of various ㅤ ㅤ ㅤexcellent authors — Brightney the Lamp! And also, a ㅤ ㅤ beautiful girl with good taste and a very high mind. Yes, yes, this is a very important part! I like to sit at books late at night, learn from the works and write my own stories. I ㅤdon't like loafing, loud noises, and bad behavior in the library. Now, we are fully acquainted, so we can begin your ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ little enlightenment into my affairs!
Introduction: ㅤDon't worry, Rodger wasn't hacked and he didn't delete his account (otherwise I see that there haven't been any posts from him for a long time because of my intrusion).. It's just that this Sir befriendly lent me his blog on Tumblr so that your sweet Brigtney could talk about our shared comfortable library circle (why you should definitely visit it and what we will do) and about the participants you can meet in it! Yes, yes, even so! And since this part is, for the most part, my introduction and excerpt.. I would like to add that. YES, I ALSO CONSIDER RODGER TOON TO BE A NON-TRADITIONAL ORIENTATION, YOU GUYS ARE NOT ALONE. I can feel it from afar, it's not for nothing that I've read huge collections about relationships —… Oh, I'm sorry, we'll talk about this later, Rodger started looking at me menacingly (HOWEVER, if you do join the club, we can discuss the mental analysis of this Sir with examples from the literature in one of the sessions, if he doesn't come there.. Just keep it quiet, it's a secret)
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤTHE MAIN PART :
ㅤYou won't regret joining our literary club! It's a place ㅤㅤwhere books come to life and discussions become real journeys into the world of literature. We read a variety of ㅤㅤ genres, from classics to modern prose, and each participant can offer their book for discussion. Every week we gather to share our thoughts and impressions, and it ㅤalways leads to interesting and deep conversations. In addition, we have meetings with our local ‘stars’ (I MEAN VEE, SHE AGREED TO VISIT US SOMETIMES), which will ㅤgreatly increase the excitement in the circle. We also organize creative events such as literary contests and workshops where you can develop your writing skills. Our club has a friendly atmosphere, and you are sure to find like-minded people and new friends. If you love literature and want to discover something new, come to us! We will be glad to see you and create a unique atmosphere of ㅤㅤㅤㅤ communication and inspiration together.
ㅤ Also, by becoming a member of the circle, you automatically get unlimited access to my library! That is, at any time and hour, even when I'm not there, you can relax on cool and soft ottomans or sip Teagan tea at the table (just be careful! Don't spill it on yourself or on the ㅤbooks). Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Participants also get access to unlimited tea and coffee, and all thanks to the ㅤㅤ misis Mug! So, don't forget to thank her for it :b
And a little new vision in the circle! Now each participant can receive their own personal logo with a bow, made and sewn from.. A DRUM ROLL.. from GLISTEN! Oh, he's such a good guy! It's only recently that we got the Mirror, even ㅤthough I've been inviting it to our club all the time.. I'm talking too much. IN SHORT! By joining the circle, you can approach this boy and officially order our beautiful logo. ㅤㅤHowever, keep in mind that the ribbon will always be GREEN, so choose the colors and the thing that will be on the emblem more carefully. For example, I have a Feather ㅤㅤㅤㅤ sewn here! — Yeah, it's very beautiful.
Summary results for the lazy (Although, ㅤㅤwhat's the point of joining a LITERARY circle if you're ㅤㅤㅤㅤ even too lazy to read a short text??):
(By joining the club, you will receive..)
A reading experience and a good atmosphere!!!
Unlimited access to the Library (and yes, I forgot to tell you. It's on the ground floor of the third elevator!)
Meeting with the star of the quiz program — Vee
Masterclasses and contests
Excellent tea and coffee from Teagan (who will always be sitting in the library for you.. She really liked it there)
Special official logos to order from Glisten
And I'd like to add on my own: A handsome, muscularly attractive detective who comes to our club once every few weeks. Although, no. I'm not letting you look at sexy guys instead of reading 😤—
Well, that's it, guys! I hope you are at least interested in ㅤㅤsomething and you have a desire to join the club.. Although, this is more specific to toons, which makes me extremely upset. But don't worry, if I ever have my own ㅤㅤㅤblog, we can set up an online literary club, but in the meantime, you can get some information from Rodger about books! He's certainly not me, but the detective's ㅤㅤㅤ reading experience is more than good^^
ㅤㅤㅤ————————————————
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Members: (This section was created to show my favorites and their wishes for you! And maybe your personal opinion about ㅤㅤㅤㅤ the club.. For this reason, read to the end)
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Razzle and Dazzle, comedy and drama specials at the same time! Deputy head of the club, keeps order in the ㅤㅤㅤㅤ library (puts books in their place, etc)🌙☀️
— Yes, that's us!!! Hello country, hello world, we are ready to work for the benefit of the club and you wonderful persons!!
— (Oh, you're at it again.. Be more calm, brother, you can't make noise in the library.. Don't set a bad example for them. Be quiet and calm, literary works require diligent thoughtfulness and understanding to understand the deep essence of it to the end.. This does not apply to comedi—)
— Hey! You're belittling me in public again!
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Astro, the second headman, runs the library exclusively at night (if you take a late meal or have a nightmare, then go to him for sure!). He is also an expert in everything, but his ㅤㅤ favorite genre is science fiction about space ✉️
( I'm sorry, I didn't have time to interview him because he... he.. Um, too busy! Yes! This one's definitely not because he's missing or something.. )
Our beautiful Teagan! She has recently joined our team, but she is always ready to offer you interesting fashion ㅤㅤㅤㅤ magazines, as well as sad romantic novels 🍃
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— Oh, my dear little darlings, I must confess that I have yet to fully immerse myself in the enchanting realm of literature, much like the illustrious Brigtney. However, I would be absolutely delighted to share a delightful cup of spiced tea with you, accompanied by a captivating book. Please, do not hesitate to approach me; I have a splendid tea set that is perfect for such serene and cozy moments. One can only hope that the mischievous dog-girl refrains from nibbling on it once more... Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Rodger?
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This is my favorite duo! Rodger and Toodles (who also ㅤ ㅤㅤjoined here not long ago) are ardent fans of ㅤㅤDetective Stories, especially if they contain a bit of psychological horror.. Are you sure children can read this?.. Although, I know for sure that when this little girl learns to analyze the text under my guidance, she will not ㅤㅤㅤㅤ only read such works, heh^^⭐️💫
— Wait a minute, when did Toodles manage to devour the tea set.. ahem. Yes, when I have a little free time, I spend most of my time reading a book. However, at this point in time, I'm not only reading a detective story, so it would be extremely helpful if you would recommend some work. Only normal.. I've had enough of Brigtney as it is (I'll read romance with Glisten, he just seems to like this genre.. Although, after the death of Romeo and Juliet, he has not yet recovered..)
— VEEE! VEE iS comINg! SHE's cOMing, SHESs COOMing! I reALLy waNT to see hEr, I'm heR faN. I hOPe she liKESs dETECctive boOKks toO.
ps: I did not choose the logo for the bow, but this star on the bow is extremely good.. I think Mirror did a good job. My daughter liked it too, that's the most important thing.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Glisten stars (???):
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Yeah, I made a separate paragraph for Glisten because ㅤㅤhe... he.. The coolest, most beautiful, awesome and attractive toon in the whole center! It's impossible not to ㅤㅤgive Mirror a special place of honor when he not only visited me, but also bothered to help me upgrade the ㅤㅤㅤㅤ club.. God, do I have to write all this? 🎀
— Oh, yes, it's me! Come on, stop applauding! I know that you all love me, but there should be silence on the stage. That's it, thanks. Your wonderful Glisten has finally decided to join the club, after several pleading requests from Brightney. However, I'm not going to go to the library often beca— WAIT A MINUTE! Will Teagan be there? Wait, where is she from.. together with Rodg? In the same room? She's a two-faced fuc—... Mmm, anyway, this Lamp inspired me to improve and I will gladly go to the literary club every day. So wait for me there, my beloved fans😘
ㅤㅤㅤ————————————————
Phew, it was hard, but we got through it.. More precisely, I ㅤdid it! Thank you for reading, and I hope you didn't get bored my presentation. Maybe we'll see each other on the blog someday, if I need anything else from Mr. Rodger, but ㅤㅤㅤㅤ for now, see you again^^ ”
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fear-is-truth · 12 hours ago
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━╋ his fall from grace.
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tags — charlie mayhew x f!reader ‧ angst ‧ allusion of sex ‧ english is not my first language ‧ not proofread a/n — very rushed, sorry. a podcast about david koresh kinda inspired me
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FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW hadn’t always been the man who weaponised his own body, turning faith into something dangerous. there was a time when he believed in God’s grace with the simplicity of a child, a time when he walked through the church’s sacred halls with a heart pure enough to carry his vows. he entered the priesthood in his early twenties, confident in his ability to resist temptation, certain he was above the frailties of flesh. he had been eager to serve God, to live out his calling.
but then, there was you.
it wasn’t a moment of weakness. at least, that’s what charlie told himself. it wasn’t as though he’d fallen in love with you overnight—no, it was far more insidious than that.
it started in the small things, like a splinter in the flesh—so small, so insignificant at first, just a whisper of discomfort beneath the skin. easy to overlook. easy to forget. but then he would brush against it the wrong way, and a sharp little ache would remind him.
a reminder of the way your voice brushed against him, soft as candle smoke, lingering long after the flame was snuffed out.
a reminder of the way your laugh curled itself around his ribs, tightening like ivy, slow and unnoticed until he could hardly breathe.
a reminder of the way you looked at him, unguarded, so innocent and unaware of the wreckage you left in your wake.
the wound that never bled nor festered, but it stayed—buried deep. and over time, it became part of him. a constant, aching presence.
then, there were your confessions—innocent enough at first, a young woman seeking his guidance, speaking of struggles and doubts. as time went on, you shared more, your voice trembling as you laid your sins bare. he listened, heart racing beneath his cassock as you spoke of desires, of the temptations of your own flesh.
that was when everything changed.
charlie had always been strong, or at least, he thought so. but when you’d knelt before him in the confessional booth, tears in your eyes, whispering your sins of lust and jealousy, he had felt something break inside him. he had wanted to absolve you, to bless you, to be the good priest. instead, he became a man driven by want. and what a dangerous thing that was—a priest, bound by vows of celibacy, to want.
and then came the moments he could never take back.
not that he regretted them, of course.
it had been after Mass one evening. you were the last to leave the chapel, candlelight casting lurid shadows against the stained glass. he had watched you linger at the back, your hands clasped in prayer, the light falling over your face like something holy. but there was nothing holy in the way his thoughts twisted. he approached you, not as a priest but as a man with base desires. you’d looked up at him, eyes wide, searching, and he had knelt beside you.
“father,” you whispered, the title now feeling like a mockery between you. “is it wrong that i think of you when i—”
before you could finish, he had shushed you, his fingers brushing against your lips—an intimacy that sent shivers down your spine. and then, he kissed you. a desperate kiss, as though he could consume the very sin he was committing.
every illicit meeting after that one became a weight on his soul. the young priest wasn’t just falling from grace; he was plummeting. and yet, every time he felt your skin beneath his hands, he craved more.
but father charlie mayhew had a remedy for the sickness inside him—a punishment of sorts, one that matched the depth of his sins. after every intimate moment with you, he would retreat to his room in the rectory, where no one would see him but God.
he would strip himself bare and reach for the scourge, a braided whip of leather that lay hidden in a drawer. each strike of the whip was a prayer—a plea for mercy. the sharp crack of leather against skin was the only thing that made him feel human again, the searing pain a reminder of the price of his indulgence.
“for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” he repeated those words as the whip tore at his back. the welts on his back weren’t just penance; they were a testament to his fall, the marks of a weak man who had traded his place in heaven for the taste of forbidden fruit.
he often thought about the biblical story of david and bathsheba—the way king david had stood on his rooftop, watching bathsheba bathe, desire making him weak. charlie felt like david, staring at you from his pulpit, knowing he should look away, knowing he should turn from the temptation that clung to his every thought. but just like david, he let himself fall.
“forgive me, father,” you had murmured, lips brushing against his ear. “for i have sinned.”
he had wanted to laugh—forgive you? he was the one in need of saving. you had no clue how much power you held over him, that you had become his greatest weakness, the very thing pulling him further from God.
and yet, he simply couldn’t resist you. how easy it would be to slip away the thin barriers of clothing that separated you both. to take what he so desperately craved.
to give in completely.
the muscle memory of your fingers threading through his hair, your breath mingling with his, haunted his every waking hour and invaded his dreams. he had kissed you once, twice—until restraint became a distant memory, until stopping felt more unnatural than sin itself. you had become his personal hell, and charlie was learning just how easy it was to fall.
and fall, he did.
each time, he swore it would be the last. that he would pray for forgiveness and never touch you again. but every sunday, he found himself watching you in the pews, your eyes meet, and suddenly, his faith wasn’t in the heavens but in the shape of your mouth. the unhealing wounds beneath his cassock—welts and bruises carved by penance—began to throb. a reminder that he was already ruined. already yours.
charlie mayhew hadn’t always been this man. but loving you had torn the holiness from his hands, made him fall from grace. and for you, he would fall a thousand times over.
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ravenouscanine · 19 hours ago
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Tips for TransOmegas because why not
Scent
- Try having a signature scent and spraying it around your necks and wrists which is where the scent glands would be (even though some places say that there are also scent glands around the genitals DO NOT SPRAY ANYTHING AROUND YOUR GENITALS it will just cause irritation)
- On the flip side you could try using a particular spray as a scent blocker
Noises
- There is a thing called Keening which is a wail-like call for a person or item, it's a way to say that you want something and you're upset that you don't have it
- Omegas can also Hiss which is a way to tell other people to back off
- There is also something called Trilling which is a short, high pitched, rolling r sound made at the back of the throat. This is a way for an omega to get someone's attention, it can also mean that the omega wants people to follow them
- Omegas will purr when they are happy or content or they will purr to self soothe
- Chirping is a sharp, high pitched noise that Omegas will make at their pups to show happiness
- Mewling is a whimper-like noise to express unhappiness or discomfort
Packs
- You can try making a pack with your friends or you can treat your friends as your pack mates
- You can try making friends with TransOmegas, TransBetas and TransAlphas to make a pack of your own
- Omegas can either take a parental role in a pack or a submissive role depending on the other pack members. If the pack is mostly betas and omegas then the omegas might collectively take on a parental, caring role for the other pack members. If the pack is mostly betas and alphas then an omega might take a more submissive role and have the other members be their protectors
Mates/Bonding
- (just a lil reminder that you do not need a mate to be a good omega and your mate does not need to be an alpha)
- If you already have a partner then you could ask them to be your mate
- You can get your partner to bite your neck to bond the two of you together
- Spend your heats with your partner
- Assign yourself a more submissive role in the relationship outside of sexual situations and have your partner take on a protector role (obviously if you are not a naturally submissive person or don't like idea of taking on these roles then you don't have to, there are several omegas who are not socially or even sexually submissive)
- Do not start talking to a TransAlpha just to be their mate, a mate is just the same as a partner so you should take just as much consideration picking a mate as you would a partner
Heats
- Some places say that heats happen every month when other places say it's every 3 months so pick what's more convenient for you
- Use a period tracker app to track your heats and your symptoms
- Take vitamins and treat them as heat suppressants and birth control (or if you're already on birth control then use that)
- Preheat lasts for 3-5 days before your heat and during this time an omega will be nesting which is where they make a comfortable spot full of blankets, pillows and other soft things (you can find some inspiration on Pinterest) omegas also usually prefer to be alone when nesting but when they're done they like to share it with their mate and pack members, Omegas will also feel rather hungry and thirsty during this time and they will be sleeping a lot to save energy. Omegas might also spend their pre heat cleaning
- Actual Heat can last 4-7 days and it starts with a fever and cramps so you could use a heat pack to encourage a fever and to feel like you're treating your cramps, they will also have increased pheromones so you might want to give yourself extra scent, you will also have a lot of slick during your heat so you could use lube to simulate slick. Omegas get very horny during their heat so spend a lot of time masturbating, you could use Viagra or orgasm gel to encourage the libido increase, if you have a partner you could ask them to help you out. Omegas also don't have much of an appetite during their heat so get your mate or pack members to remind you to eat
- Finally when the heat is over Omegas will be very tired and might spend most of their time asleep and eating to regain their energy
Let me know if you want an alpha version
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unfortunate-brat · 19 hours ago
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Skin | shifter!dean x latina!reader
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pairing: shifter!dean winchester x latina!reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: drinking, deception, character death, unprotected sex, angst, missionary and doggy style sex, fluff, choking, this one is kinda dark 👀
yazzy’s comments: phew, this one is a little longer as i was feeling inspired by @deansbeer shifter!dean fic. honestly surprised i wrote this in two hours. not proofread !!
18+, must have age in bio to interact. minors and ageless accounts will be blocked !!
💌 follow @unfortunate-bratfics for just new posted imagines !!
there’s nothing but bodies in this frat home, your own included as it joins those on the dance floor. red solo cup in hand filled with something you didn’t bother asking about tonight, what mattered was the buzz that filled your veins. the sweat pouring out your skin as your hips matched the beat of the loud music blaring from someone’s speaker. tonight wasn’t going to be wasted on school assignments for once.
your eyes focused on those who were walking into the kitchen, getting refills of the fruity liquid and after taking a glance in your cup, decided to get some more. chugging what little remained on the way there as you squeezed between other bodies.
finally reaching the counter with all the drinks, your eyes darted between the makeshift punch bowl that was just some giant storage container and the beer keg. now momma taught you not to mix your poisons but you kinda wanted a beer now. though as you pour, someone’s hand covers your own, strangely cold in such a heated environment.
you looked to see it was dean, flashing his signature smirk right at you. “allow me.” your hand pulls back as he gets the beer for you, getting one for himself as well.
there’s a million questions swirling in your mind, as dean dropped out a long time ago. leaving without a trace and saying something about finding his brother. it had pissed you off then when weeks would go by and he didn’t even bother to send a text. yet to see him standing here in the flesh made you the opposite. “there ya go sweetheart, come on.” his hand pulls yours as he led you outside into a more secluded area of the backyard.
you needed to clear the air at least. “look, i’m glad you’re back but you left me. least you could have done is send a text you know?” you take a sip of beer after, looking into his eyes and noting they seemed a bit…off. maybe its just been a while since you last saw him, things can change.
“i know, but shit hit the fan. i wanted to come back as soon as possible,” his hand lingers on your arm, squeezing gently and you take a moment to glance at it. he’s still cold. “missed you gorgeous.”
you narrow your eyes at him while taking another sip, dean had never been so touchy feely before. nor had he really been one to showcase so much emotion. but again, your mind reminds you that things can change. “missed you too, jackass.”
your admission makes him smirk again, his hand cupping your cheek for a moment before pulling away. glancing off to the side for a moment before meeting your own again. “look i don’t wanna waste tonight begging you on my knees to forgive me alright? rather be on my knees for something a little more sweet.”
his bold nature makes you blush, had dean gained some charm in his absence? “i mean i’m not super mad, you’re lucky i’m just drunk cause sober me would slap the shit out of you.” you finished the rest of your beer, needing some liquid courage before meeting his eyes again. “but i guess you could make it up to me with ice cream, remember willies?”
for a second, annoyance flashes in his eyes before its replaced by something else. chugging the rest of his beer, he discarded the red solo cup somewhere and closed the distance between you both. “i was thinking of a different sweet treat.” his face moves closer to your own, the two of you sharing the oxygen between you. “you get what i’m saying?”
you assume that dean’s drunk too, otherwise he wouldn’t be so forward with his words. it’s getting quite annoying to question everything he’s doing, maybe you should take his advice and not waste tonight. with a sigh you meet his lips, hoping that you’d make the right choice tonight.
·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙
the mattress creaks with every thrust from dean’s hips, his harsh pace practically ripping your body apart as your nails sink into his flesh. his skin was still cold but you didn’t mind helping him warm up.
“you’re still thinking, that’s not a good sign.” he pulls out, much to your protest and suddenly your face meets the pillows. “need you to just feel.” his dick pushes back inside, your pussy remembering his shape as it practically welcomes him with open arms. he smacks your ass, chuckling darkly. “he doesn’t even know what he left behind.”
you whimper as his thrusts resume, his tip hitting deeper into your cervix. “w-what?” you manage to choke out, gripping onto the sheets for dear life as he gets faster. it’s almost inhumane in a way.
“nothing, just keep taking my dick like the slut you are.” he leans over just a bit, using his thumb to rub your clit as your walls tighten around him. “f-fuck, who knew you had such a good little cunt?”
you struggle to stay in place with every thrust, nails digging into the memory foam and you know the damn protector is ripping from your grip. your skin shines in a layer of sweat, as does his. finally he wasn’t so cold anymore. a slap to your folds draws you away from your thoughts as dean practically growls. “thought i said to not use your head, you don’t need it.” another slap hits your folds. “not with me at least.”
sticky cum fills your insides as you both struggle to catch your breath, his dick still inside and throbbing like crazy. you wonder if his abuse against your poor cunt was over. though as he pulls out and chuckles darkly again, you’re not so sure. “fuck, she is quite the sight.”
you turn to lay on your back, your legs still spread open for him as he runs his thick digits between your folds. “keep it inside,” dean pushes the cum that had begun to ooze out back inside, smirking as you let out a groan. your folds were swollen and there’s no doubt you could walk. what pissed him off was that you weren’t too stupid to think, that still brings up an opportunity for his plans to fail.
“dean,” you whisper, reaching a hand out to him but he slaps it away. opting to pin your hands above your head instead. “dean wait—”
once again, he pushes inside without warning. this time though, his thrusts are a bit gentle. slowly working up a new pace as you attempt to free your hands, aching to touch his skin. “relax, i’m trying to memorize this. god you’re perfect. it’s a shame.”
your brows knit together as he reaches over for something in your bed, tying your wrists to the bedpost. “dean what the h-hell? what’s going on?” though your words are met with silence as he tightens the buttoned up shirt he wore earlier, ensuring you couldn’t escape. “this isn’t funny anymore.”
his hands fold your legs into your chest, his dick hitting you at a new angle as you whimper. thrusts picking up to a similar pace as earlier, no longer so gentle. “you know what is funny though?” dean grins, one of his hands coming to wrap around your throat. “he could have walked away, left the fucking case alone but a winchester never backs down do they?”
his words confuse you as he starts to squeeze your throat, though the combination with that and his harsh pounding makes you torn between fear and arousal. “i will admit, seeing you in his memories and finding out how he feels about you, shit. I get it.”
dean applies more pressure, enjoying the sweet noises you were making as he spots your phone going off on the bedside table. “its too bad he didn’t give you a proper goodbye. but hey, it worked out in my favor.” it’s not long until he cums inside you again, meeting your swollen lips with another bruising kiss, forcing his tongue inside.
the words made alarm bells go off in your head but the pleasure was too overwhelming to ignore. making you dizzy with every touch just like dean had originally wanted. besides how could this be dean and not him at the same time?
the phone goes off again and he swipes it, checking the name on the small screen of the blackberry. “damn, guess playtime is over. but i guess i can make a lasting impression.” dean answers the phone, placing it on speaker while keeping his animalistic pace. “sorry, they’re a little busy, might i take a message?”
“where is she?” the voice on the phone makes you freeze, it sounded exactly like dean’s. “sweetheart you there?!”
there’s no proper response you can give him and you can’t help but moan when not-dean starts playing with your clit again. “again, she’s a little busy. ain’t that right baby?”
you want to scream, to get some answers as to what’s going on and who was currently rearranging your guts but this imposter doesn’t provide much. only fucking you harder as if that was even possible, though with the light of your blackberry you can catch his eyes. they seem to be a little reflective, going to white before changing back to the same green pupils dean had. “what…”
just then the door busts down and you spot dean with a gun in his hand. wasting no time to shoot the damn bastard inside you now and you scream as he slumps onto you.
the real dean’s quick to pull the monster as it shifts back to its true form. you’re still very naked as the ties around your wrist loosen up. immediately dean’s covering your body with the blanket and sighing, cupping your cheek. his hand is warm. “i’m sorry you had to witness that.”
you’re shaking, glancing from dean to the monster that was laying on the floor beside your bed. just what the fuck was going on? though as you try to reply, a tall figure appears in your doorway. he seems to be taller than dean and has shaggy brown hair.
“that’s my brother sammy, he’s nice don’t worry.” dean glances to sam, giving him a certain look and his brother walks away. “there’s a lot to explain and if you wanna know i’ll tell you. but let’s get you dressed.” with gentle touches, dean carries you to the bathroom. drawing a bath and helping you get inside, making sure to be respectful of your private areas.
“he looked like you.” you whisper as dean hands you the loofah to wash your body. the soap suds covering your body and you are grateful dean looks away.
“i know and don’t feel bad because you thought he was me. you don’t know about shit like this cause i tried to keep you away from it.” dean takes the time to wash your hair, smiling softly when you close your eyes. at least he knows you’re comfortable with him here. that’s the most important thing on his mind. “this world is…cruel.” when he’s done, dean is careful to rinse your hair without getting the water on your face.
you pull the plug, watching the water go down and dean’s quick to grab a towel. “i’ll be outside okay? you want some clothes?”
you shake your head, holding onto his hand. “it’s okay, i don’t have any reason to hide. i kinda gave it up.” those words make dean frown, kneeling down in front of the tub.
“don’t say that, he’s a fucking freak and you didn’t do anything wrong. plus, i rather you wait to show off how gorgeous you are. and that’s with clothes on.” he meets your eyes, ignoring that you’re now bare in the empty bathtub. the still towel folded in your hand.
“okay.” you reply, covering yourself in the towel as he helps you stand up. he doesn’t carry you this time, though you wish he would. his touch is more gentle, something you wanna remember versus the monster that had been all over you earlier. had time machines existed, you’d stop yourself from going to the party entirely. sober you would have far better judgment than the one who chose to play naive.
“hey. what i say?” dean checks you out of your thoughts, walking with you into the room. the corpse of the monster now gone and dean takes this time to fix the door he bust down. his back to you for some privacy. “don’t blame yourself, that only makes it worse. take it from me.”
you pull out some sweats and a hoodie, eager to cover your skin down to even your toes as socks hide them. your hair still sitting on your shoulders, dripping down your back. with the same towel, you dry to absorb some of that water into the plush fabric as your eyes focus on what dean was doing.
he may not have his tools, but dean makes a mental note to find a screwdriver to fix the hinges. for now he props up the door against the frame, a problem for future him to fix. “i’ll check baby’s trunk tomorrow,” the hunter turns back to look at you, noting how every inch of skin was nowhere in sight. “hey, how about we hit willies like old times? i’m kinda craving some ice cream.” least he could do is help you forget for the rest of the night. in due time he’ll tell you everything.
·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙
Please note; I do not allow translations or redistributions of my work by anyone else except myself. MDNI, if your account is ageless or empty, I will block you !! Minors are NOT welcome here.
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miri-tiazan · 1 day ago
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Fresh from the archives, new unhinged 00Q chatfic!
So, @cicerfics and have been writing unhinged 00Q chatfics and headcanons back and forth in DMs for uh… going on two years now, and it seems like perhaps the time has come to unearth some of these from the archives and dust them off for sharing. Accordingly, here is the very first chatfic we did, inspired by this comment thread on Ch. 7 of cicer’s delightful fic the warmth of your doorways!
tags: omegaverse, mpreg, weird omegaverse hormone nonsense, menopause
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miri-tiazan: Oh God. Cicer. Doesn’t even have to be mpreg but…
Omega Bond going into his first heat in decades and just spontaneously deciding that Q’s flat is the Only Acceptable Location to nest in. They’re not even dating! Bond’s just broken in a few times! Q has no idea why this is happening!
Q just gets an alert from his home security system one day and Bond is There and he’s like, refinishing the window trim in the second bedroom or something. And also he won’t leave. Surprise, Q! You have a roommate, and he’s hormonal! Enjoy your new home improvements!
cicerfics: ...Okay, now that we're talking about this, you know what I'm a little bit obsessed with right now? The entire question of menopause in omegaverse. I don't think I've ever seen an a/b/o fic REALLY explore that concept, but now it's fascinating to me!
Like, what if nesting is a thing omegas only do when they're pregnant OR going through menopause? What if Bond (having never been pregnant) never experienced any of these instincts/urges and thought he was impervious to them? What if he hits 44/45, enters perimenopause, and is absolutely BODIED by the urge to:
a) Acquire a nice house b) Renovate, refurbish, and redecorate it c) Learn to cook d) Start a lil herb garden or something and maybe make some pesto??? e) Acquire a lover/companion to feed up and care for f) Acquire some pets/babies/random houseplants/literally anything that requires his protection and nurturing
Poor dude has ZERO experience with these types of urges. But when they appear, they hit him like a TRUCK. And his own flat is way too cold/sterile/crappy/lonely for proper nesting. There aren't even any cats or quartermasters in there!!
So, yes: one day Q gets home from work and Bond has simply annexed his flat/cats/kitchen. There are already overflowing bags from the hardware store scattered around the flat, because Bond has made up his mind that three different rooms need to be repainted, the bathroom needs a complete reno, and oh yeah, he's replacing the sofa because this one simply Isn't Right. The vibes are Bad. Bond Doesn't Like It, so it's gotta go.
Also, there's pasta sauce simmering on the stove and probably a trifle waiting in the fridge, and the cats are wearing new designer collars.
And sorry Q, but if you didn't want a hormonal new housemate/husband who is going through The Change...too bad. You got one anyway! He's here to stay...and no, he doesn't understand what's happening to his body/mind, either. Good luck, everybody!!
Continued on AO3 here:
00Q Chatfics and Assorted Headcanons (2391 words) by cicer, miri_tiazan Chapters: 1/? Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James Bond/Q Characters: James Bond, Q (James Bond) Additional Tags: Omegaverse, Mpreg | Male Pregnancy, weird omegaverse hormone nonsense, Menopause Summary: Lightly edited chat transcripts between cicer and miri_tiazan: some live-written fics, some random headcanons, some plot-free fluff, all 00Q!
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jade4956 · 2 days ago
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A new Field
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Tahlia Bliss stood in the middle of her new room at UCLA, her bags half unpacked, staring out the window at the campus below. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden shadow across the palm trees in the distant hills. It all felt so unreal. Just a year ago, she was a 17-year-old playing for Chelsea wfc and even before that she was playing for Chelsea’s youth academy, dreaming of the day when she’d finally play in America. And now, here she was at UCLA, with a full scholarship and an entirely new world laid out before her.
Her phone buzzed on the bed. Tahlia smiled when she saw the text from Jessie Fleming.
-Hey, welcome to LA! Meet you at the field tomorrow for training?-
Jessie Fleming was already a star in Tahlia’s eyes. The Canadian midfielder had signed for UCLA in 2016 and was now a key player on the team, leading the charge for their success. Jessie was part of the reason Tahlia had even considered coming to America. Watching her play for Canada in the Olympics had been a huge inspiration. The way Jessie carried herself on the field, so calm, so compose that was something Tahlia had always admired and now she would be playing along side her.
Tahlia typed out a quick response.
-Can’t wait. I’m excited to finally meet you in person!-
A few moments later, another message from Jessie popped up.
-You’re going to love it here. Can’t wait to have you on the team!-
The next morning, Tahlia arrived at the UCLA soccer field early, her heart thudding in her chest. She could already hear the sounds of the team warming up shouts, thuds of the ball hitting the net, the hum of energy that came with being part of a high-level team. She knew she was going to have to prove herself all over again, but that thought didn’t make her nervous. It made her feel alive.
She spotted Jessie almost immediately, as the Canadian stood in the center of the field, chatting with a few of the other players. Tahlia hesitated for a moment, then jogged over.
“Hey!” she called, giving a tentative wave.
Jessie turned, her face lighting up in recognition. “Tahlia!” She greeted her with an easy smile and a hug. “I’m so glad you’re finally here! Welcome to the family.”
Tahlia felt a rush of warmth. She’d only known Jessie through video calls and texts over the past few months, but there was something so genuine about her in person. It was immediately clear why she was the heart of the team.
They stood together as the rest of the team gathered around. The coach, Coach Smith, called everyone in, and practice began.
The next few weeks were a blur of training, classes, and adjusting to life in Los Angeles. Tahlia had spent the last few years of her life in the high-pressure environment of Chelsea’s youth system, so she wasn’t unused to competitive soccer, but everything about UCLA was different. The atmosphere was warm, laid-back, and full of energy so many players from different parts of the world, each with their own unique style and background. There was a sense of freedom here, a sense of community that felt new but welcomed her in a way she hadn’t expected.
Jessie became her anchor. After practice, they’d grab a smoothie together or just walk around the campus talking about everything: soccer, their dreams, their old lives back home. Jessie would share stories of her transition from playing in Canada to moving to California, how challenging it had been at first but how everything had started to click after a while.
“You’re going to fit right in,” Jessie said one evening as they sat on the steps of their dorm, watching the sunset. “It takes a little time, but once you get the hang of it, it feels like home.”
Tahlia nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude that someone like Jessie, who was so accomplished, was so down-to-earth and supportive. “I just don’t want to let the team down, you know?”
Jessie grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “That’s good, that means you already care about your team and want to do you best, it’s a good quality”
It was mid-September when the first real test came. UCLA was set to play Stanford one of their biggest rivals, and everyone knew the pressure was on. The team had been working hard, and Coach Smith had been putting them through the paces in practice. Tahlia had been playing well, but there were moments when the weight of expectations crept in. She’d spent years at Chelsea, earning her spot in one of the top youth academies in Europe and then having to earn her spot in the senior team but now here she was, a freshman in the U.S. starting over again. The doubts sometimes hit her harder than she wanted to admit.
The night before the Stanford game, she and Jessie stayed up late, talking about the upcoming match. They sat together in their dorm room, a bowl of popcorn between them, the room bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp.
“I’m nervous,” Tahlia admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest.
Jessie stretched out on her bed, hands behind her head. “Good. Being nervous means you care. But don’t let it mess with your head. Just play your game. Trust your instincts.”
Tahlia chuckled, feeling a little silly for overthinking things. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is.” Jessie smiled. “We’ve both played soccer for years. It’s in our bones. Tomorrow, just play like you’ve always played. You’ve got this.”
The day of the game arrived, and Tahlia could feel the excitement building as the team walked into the stadium. It was a large, professional setup, the stands lined with fans from both teams. The field was clean, the goalposts towering at either end. The team lined up in the locker room, focusing on the task ahead. Coach Smith gave them the usual pep talk, reminding them of the importance of teamwork, discipline, and heart. Then, with a final shout, they headed out onto the field.
The first half was intense. Stanford had tough opponents, and the game was fast-paced and physical. Tahlia found herself running harder than she had in weeks, every pass, every tackle, more crucial than the last. She could feel the heat of the crowd, the pressure of the rivalry, but also the strength of her teammates around her. And then, in the second half, it happened.
With the score tied 1-1, Tahlia found herself on the edge of the box, the ball rolling toward her. A Stanford defender closed in, but Tahlia feinted to her left and took the shot with her right foot, sending the ball curving into the top corner of the net. It was a perfect strike.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Tahlia stood frozen for a moment, stunned by the beauty of her own shot. Then, she turned to see Jessie running toward her, arms wide, her face beaming with pride. Tahlia’s heart soared.
“See?” Jessie yelled, pulling her into a hug. “I told you, you’ve got this.”
As the final whistle blew and the team celebrated their 2-1 victory, Tahlia couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. She was no longer just the girl who had moved from London to California. She was part of this team, part of a new family, with all the pressure and joy that came with it.
For the first time since leaving Chelsea, Tahlia felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
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I’m happy to say that now We have and England ficlist, Chelsea and UCLA one now yay
Thanks for reading if you would like to request something please do also if you prefer Wattpad mines the same as this account name
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inaconstantstateofchange · 1 year ago
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A Snippet Shared | Minthara x Karlach
There's no real tag game motivation behind this, but I'm proud of this snippet and not sure when I'll finish the larger oneshot it is a part of, so I'm putting it here for now.
Note: Set post-canon, with Minthara and Karlach in Avernus together.
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Karlach, gracious in victory – at least this once – doesn’t belabor her point. And she, too, is undoubtedly impatient to take advantage of this potential windfall. “Now, don’t go expecting some grand beacon of hospitality. We’ll be slumming it with the finest dregs Zariel’s legions leave behind them, b-u-t—four walls! That’s basically the Elfsong, at this point!”
Minthara nods, deadpan, as she agrees with Karlach’s determination. “An apt comparison, my love. The music certainly sounds similar enough.”
Karlach nods enthusiastically, half her quick-paced mind already mapping out the path before them as she scans the desolate horizon. Minthara waits for the constant background noise of Avernus – the wails of doomed petitioners forming a melody with the snarls and clashes of distant engagements – to filter back into her hearing. Karlach has proven quicker and quicker to pick up on her little jests, and this one was surely obvious enough—There. Karlach whirls back around, pointing at her accusatorily. 
“You—you! The music is similar, oooh! How many of those little jokes did you slip past everyone back then?”
Minthara smiles, slow and toothy. “More than you would ever believe, dear one.”
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