#if you remove the whys do you still feel the same way?

[sha-brytols]

and the thing is i've said so many wildly conflicting things about how flawed solas' character portrayal was in veilguard but like. i unironically do believe they're All True and like i think i can kind of(?) articulate why

like solas in veilguard to me was a pretty perfect example on how clear it is that dragon age has suddenly and drastically regressed from being an exploration into moral ambiguity and that fine smudged line between "hero" and "villain" to a sudden inexplicable refusal to allow any sort of grey area in character motivations in favor of forcing them into a binary box like its a dnd alignment. and i think this specifically because there is literally No Way to write solas in a morally uncomplicated manner while still maintaining anything that makes him an interesting character.

people who hate solas hate veilguard because it removed literally any nuance to his character and repeatedly paints him as a poor mistreated victim whose only crime is that he was Forced to do things He Didnt Want to by a significantly underwritten and highly anticipated female character, and his regrets are all varying degrees of "it's my fault because i was right and they didn't listen to me :(" and no actual agency in his own decision making. his romance with a lavellan is literally front and center in the game and the only one that even gets more than a passing letter or (in dorian's case) like. two full lines of dialogue. the narrative does everything to silently paint him as the misunderstood tragic hero that no one truly appreciates and even rewrites the inquisitor so they always want to redeem him regardless of their previous disposition

people who love solas hate veilguard because it somehow managed to simultaneously do the same thing in reverse. solas has no genuine regrets or sense of guilt or actual reflection about his past behavior in the entire game. he kills his best friend and the game makes sure to zoom in on his face as varric is falling down just so you can see the sneer of contempt. the war table finebros react segments where its literally just the writers unapologetically utilizing the companions as mouthpieces for their personal opinions makes sure to tell the player that solas is unforgivable and a hypocrite and a coward for his actions. they even like. rewrote an entire part of his character specifically to remove that layer of complexity and dumb it down to the Lying Liar Who Lies. where the narrative silently wants you to sympathize with him, the characters LOUDLY want you to condemn him. your most sympathetic dialogue choices are lukewarm "well... i GUESS i understand why..." delivered in a consistent tone of disapproving resignment.

people who are neutral to solas? you're not ALLOWED to be. here you go. Dragon Age: Solas. everything is about solas. you have to make all your choices based around solas. we've written an entire game to revolve around solas. we rewrote like 4 characters to make sure that you are forced into one of the two extremes.

and it's all because you have a game that physically cannot help itself but to make you make the Good Decision and so they can't decide which decision is good and which is bad so they wrote two completely conflicting stories about him at the same time. he is the best boy. he is the worst. it genuinely feels like the writing team was actively wrestling with each other behind the scenes over whether or not solas is a Bad Guy and thus their only means of compromise was writing him as though he was dr jekyll and mr hyde without any transition or consistency. he is a villain. he is a hero. you are a bad person for not seeing his point of view. you are a good person for peacefully redeeming him. and i know there's people who think this is some sort of ingenius character study but none of this is intentional. he isn't like loghain who commits bad acts in service to a greater good. he's the prideful god who lied to the inquisitor about wanting to free the elves and instead his goal has been about his own personal ego all along. he isn't like flemeth, who does good by people and manipulates the story in your favor all for the sake of her own mysterious ends. he isn't even like the architect who lies and murders and manipulates the warden all in the service of his own deluded vision. he's the guy who wants to destroy the world because his abusive ex is forcing him to. but also he's the guy who wants to destroy the world because he thinks mortal life is insignificant and he should be in control because hes The Best.

all complexity of what was previously a deeply nuanced character has been removed, and it's because he used to be so complex that it's so disjointed and bad because they refuse to actually commit to any one direction because in that case they'd might as well make another character. but they can't. they have to make it solas. because solas is their cash cow and their baby.

they want to make a perfect solavellan happy ending because they want to please the people who love their baby but they're so fundamentally divorced from what their audience wants for solas that they ended up writing a caricaturized ai-generated romance novel for teenagers.

they want to make a cathartic fight scene where you beat the bad man because they want to please the people that hate their villain but they have such blatant contempt for criticism of their precious little baby that they make sure to infantilize and misrepresent his flaws as much as they can so he can be the sad little elf boy that you need to hug.

and despite all of this they ALSO wanted so desperately to avoid making you sympathize too much with the antagonist they were building up to that they had to make sure he acted in the most unforgivably evil ways that they could think of just so players knew this is the Bad Guy and you're the Good Guy and don't you forget it.

it's just constant self contradictory writing. it is so blatant that it's genuinely hard for me to even see veilguard's solas as being the same character. i find myself nodding my head in agreement to his most ardent haters because yeah you're right. they did spend an insane amount of time forcing you to see just how innocent and well-intentioned and pure this egotistical mass-murderer was. and i also find myself nodding in agreement with his biggest fans because yeah. you're right. they did randomly turn this character into a moustache-twirling villain who does everything short of tying rook to railroad tracks and cackling as he runs away to tear down the veil. and all this because they couldn't stand to not have him be in the game in the biggest and most impactful way. they literally could not have a story without solas.

[smileycarat]

i've got you

summary: seungcheol comforting the reader through a difficult time

warnings: angst/comfort(?), financial insecurity, and imposter syndrome

masterlist

there were mountains of papers all spread across the dinner table were just staring back at you each with a larger number than the last. the notepad right beside your computer had multiple scribbles of numbers that just kept on adding up to a larger amount.

on your laptop, there was a screen open with your current bank statement, and it was simple knowledge that you would not be able to afford your expenses for the month.

hours were spent at work, wearing yourself thin only for it to not be enough. hours were spent trying to job hunt, thinking you more than met the qualifications listed, only to be told that someone else was chosen for the position.

it was hard to not feel the utter despair month after month.

all you could do was rub at your temples and close your eyes to try to ease the pressure you could feel from staring at the computer screen and crunching numbers all afternoon.

“are you alright honey?”

you slowly lift your head to see seungcheol standing in the dining room, holding his bag from his recent practice with the members. he was still dressed in his casual clothes, but you could see the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders.

“i’m alright, just tired,” you said, clearing your throat at its hoarseness. “it’s been a day.”

cheol let out a soft sigh, nodding as he pulled his chair from across the small table to sit directly next to you. he looked at all the papers, your notepad, and your laptop screen before you could feel his gaze on the side of your face.

“oh honey…”

his broad hand reached out to press against your upper back, and immediately you could feel the pressure building up behind your eyes, your face flushing.

“it’s okay! really! if i just start to cancel a membership or two, and i have plenty of books i could sell for some cash-”

you were frantic in your explanation, not being able to look at his soft eyes and the way his brow began to furrow. if anything, you could feel the weight of his stare.

“honey, hold on.” his tone was firm as he sought out your gaze. “let me help you.”

“no cheol, it’s okay. i’ll be okay,” the tone of your voice wavered. “work is offering me that new position soon, so that will help plenty-”

“they have been dangling that position over your head for the past two years,” he said as he turned your head towards him. the way his eyes softened immediately made your eyes water. “i hardly see you because you work all day, and i know my own work schedule can be turbulent but you work longer days than even i do.”

“well, it’s something that i have to do,” you couldn’t help but say defensively as the tears fully started to flow. “i have to work-”

he made a sound as he shushed you, and even then, his own eyes got glassy. he always seemed to mirror whatever you were feeling.

“honey, i want to help you. i always have. you have been the person cheering for me since the start of my dream, and there’s nothing more that i would love than doing the same for you. i wish i could remove all the stress from the world on your shoulders,” he said as he began to softly wipe the tears flowing on your cheeks. “i know that you want to continue working, and i am not taking that away from you, but let me help you. i have more than enough money to support the both of us. if you want to take some time off work to job search-”

“but cheol, i could never do that to you. the job market is shit right now so i wouldn't be able to find anything soon."

he made a small shush sound, softly shaking his head and softly cupping your face.

“listen,” he said gently, but firmly. “you aren’t making me do anything. we both agreed since day one that we were a team. i would never take away your independence, but me helping you is us being a team. this is our life, there is no reason as to why you should carry the weight of it alone.”

soft sobs were now shaking your shoulders, everything feeling heavier with the look of adoration in his eyes. 

“it’s just so hard to not feel like i’m failing when everyone is so much more ahead of me,” you whimpered. 

“honey, what you’re doing is far from failing. there is no set timeline as to where you need to be in your life because you are the one leading it. just let me in and let me be a part of it,” he whispered as he pulled you into his chest and began to rub soothing circles on your back.

the room was silent for the most part, other than your sniffles here and there. yet, he still held you tightly until you spoke first. 

“i love you so much”, you murmured into his collarbone. you pulled back just enough to be able to meet his eyes. “can we try to figure this out together?”

seungcheol let out a small hum of agreement. “i love you more, we’ll figure it all out together. i've got you, honey. i got you.”

he pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling you back in closer, and you let him. his embrace was the one steady thing that you had felt throughout all these weeks, and for the first time in a long time, you truly believed you didn’t have to do this alone.

in that moment, suddenly the amount of papers on the table didn’t seem so large and the numbers on your computer screen looked less daunting. all that mattered really was the fact that his embrace was there to carry the weight off your shoulders. 

a/n: i am currently going through the most difficult time in my personal life, so i will admit this was more of a self-indulgent piece. i hope that whoever reads this could also find as much solace in this as i did when i was writing it. please like and reblog, it helps my blog and i am planning on being more active on it :)

[joekitsu]

Initially reblogged this without saying anything but now that I'm reading it again I am caught with the Worms TM and I gotta

- See now Dick had two very loving parents, people who would have always made it a point to keep him happy, safe and joyful. Cradled, he was loved with their whole hearts. So he knows how being cradled feels. It's the fact that Bruce took him in, gave him a home, gave him Robin when he really did not need to that gets him. Bruce had no obligations to him other than his self-imposed ones. But he cradled him. When he had no reason to. He has no reason to resent that.

- Jason’s life is different. He grew up on Crime Alley after all. That place leaves no innocence alive to admire. His parents left little to be desired, except for Catherine, who also gave up on life at the end. But Bruce took him from that life, a life of thievery and violence and gave him something better. Something more. Cradled him, gave him Robin's magic. He cradled Jason, who had rarely been held with such love. He couldn't fathom resenting that.

- Tim had neglectful parents who left him behind while they went on their business trips, leaving him behind to an empty mansion with an emptier heart. They were the ones who were supposed to cradle him, but they did not. But Bruce did. He took him in when he really didn't have to, grieving his son as he was. He didn't really have to care for Tim the way he did, his hands never had to cradle him, he was just here to be Robin. But they did. They cradled him. Why would he ever resent that?

- Now admittedly I know next to nothing about Steph. I am very new to DC as a whole and most of the stuff I've seen involves the 4 Robins and the occasional Cass post. But if I have to interpret what her line means with my very limited knowledge of her, I'd say it's a confirmation. It's a statement. Yes, they did cradle her. It's a declaration. I am cradled by hands soaked in blood. I am loved. Nothing could make her resent that. (Steph fans please tell me if I am wrong to assume this is what the post meant do not come at me with pitchforks I beg I would like to be educated not run over)

- AHHHHHHHHH Damian. The Son of Talia Al Ghul. Heir of the Al Ghul legacy. A boy with the blood of assassins in his veins. A boy soaked in death. By all means, he is what Bruce needs to remove from the world. He was arrogant and insufferable at the start as well, stuck in his ways, refusing to change. But he was still cradled. By the very same hands that drowned in blood to change what he stood for. They cradled him. Him. Killer since birth, the Demon Child, him. How is he supposed to resent that?

- Duke is another character I am not very familiar with but would like to be (A daylight shift is such a cool concept to me honestly? Him being a meta on top of that! He's so cool!) So I'm gonna go with my gut feeling for him as well. Duke has seen the good Batman does, the good Bruce does. He has probably seen the bad as well. Batman, Bruce, has done a lot for Gotham that Duke has seen. He has even lived through what Bruce does for victims, the way he took him in after what happened to his parents. To him, Bruce is a light in the darkness. Those hands are not bathed in unfathomable quantities of blood. They hold the sky up so the world, his city can breathe.

Or ig they could always say "I think the blood is very fathomable actually-"

Anyways thank you for coming to my Ted talk I usually don't do this uhhhh bye

(I'm serious about those pitchforks.)

Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Robin!Dick: but they cradled me, yes? Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Robin!Jason: but they cradled me, yes? Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Robin!Tim: but they cradled me, yes? Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Robin!Steph: but they cradled me, yes? Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Robin!Damian: but they cradled me, yes? Bruce: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood Signal!Duke: No. They aren’t.

[moonshynecybin]

What would happen if Marc woke up in a world where sepang never happened...

ooh the classic what would happen if you got everything you wanted scenario… idk i think we could do a time travel sitch, where he gets his ass dumped into his 2013 body and has to set about preventing one of the more` significant little tragedies of his life, but that would also count on marc having the emotional intelligence to think he did ANYTHING wrong in his relationship with vale, and i don’t think he can do that quite yet lol… maybe it has to be a story where he realizes that he couldve handled things differently? in that clip from his recent interview, he talks about how when he was younger he would go flat out every training session but he doesnt feel the need to do so nowww, so maybe hes processing that sort of internal shift while also looking at vale from the perspective of an injured, post-honda marc who has personal knowledge of how hard it is ego-wise to mount a comeback... maybe this inspires some empathy w vale (he's looking at him and realizing THAT vale is only 4 years older than him and hes like. hm...) and the fic ends up being a character study on baby marc vs marc now PLUS actually internalizing all of the lessons he thinks he’s learned… i don’t wanna make this sound like sepang is marc’s fault lol like to be clear i don’t think he did anything WRONG per se, he was just marc level abrasive in ways that specifically rubbed against vale’s tender bits, but i also think that if he handled vale with more care than perhaps some parts of this could have been avoided ! so maybe older marc's presence removes the ranch nasty and the assen nasty (“marc is only my friend when he wins”) and gets vale out of the 'well clearly marc is sabotaging me' mindset. and then at some point marc has to like. TELL vale about all this after sepang has technically passed and vale. perhaps does not handle that well in conjunction w his title loss anyways BUT this version is closer to marc and its a different sort of less public sexy mess....

OR it could be marc gets sent to an alternate reality of 2025 where sepang maybe doesnt happen, but him and vale still kinda implode a little less dramatically and marc is like well this IS what i wanted but it feels hollow as fuck lol. no new, frothing vitriol between them really, like vale will shake his hand and do the same kinda stuff he does w jlo or whatever (vale shows up to the paddock and takes a pic w marc to get reposted on socials bc the press ask and marc is like ??? bc he has never been a somewhat neutral topic to vale before ever in his LIFE… unsure how to deal w the rivalry treatment that jlo or casey or sete get handed. little does he know vale is still insane, he just has less cause to go nuclear lol) butttt marc still had to leave hrc, still alienated from the academy, still breaks his arm… like realizing that sepang isnt this huge axis that the bad things in his life kinda spin on.... and maybe he sets about interrogating all the ways they would’ve broken up even without the heightened melodrama of the sepang race… starts hanging out w vale even though that’s something they Don’t Do Now and vale is surprised but likes it (and is also. still somehow DEEPLY hurt by how everything went down maybe just less specifically delusional/paranoid to cope in conjunction w title loss. idk maybe he won 2015 here and marc was injured for the back half of the season and they both feel weird about kinda drifting apart)... this fic would have lots of fear from them both about the other leaving, the injury stuff, the age stuff--- all the reasons why sepang happened that they never delt with, just without the actual sepang… and i think it could be sweet idk i like it when they’re fucked up but they spend time w each other and it’s like oh it’s you… of course it’s you…. its always been you

[sofreddie]

Not What You Wanted - Part 4

Summary: Y/N struggles with the bond and her purpose for being there, while the Winchesters tackle a hunt.

Characters: Dean Winchester / F!Fan!Reader / Sam Winchester, Others

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Canon Divergent AU, Fluff, Angst, Injury to Reader

WC: 3,676

A/N: I remembered it was Friday! Yay me! I swear, the days just blur together half the time. Anywho, happy fanfic-ing!

Part 3

Y/N woke up groaning when she saw she was still in the Bunker. It wasn’t a dream. She pushed herself up, wiping the drool that escaped the corner of her mouth. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she dropped her head into her hands, groaning once more as she tried to rub the sleep from her face.

When Sam had shown her to a room the night before, her exhaustion slammed into her hard. Without undressing, she had face-planted on the mattress and instantly fallen asleep.

Waking up in the same position she fell asleep in made her body ache. She must have been truly exhausted not to have moved, which was highly unusual for her. She let out a long and loud yawn, then jumped at the sudden knock at her door.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice rang from the other side.

“Yeah?” she asked, yawning once more.

The handle turned, and the door creaked open slowly. Sam peeked his head in and smiled when he saw her awake.

“Hey, did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, yawning again, making Sam chuckle.

“Coffee?” he asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

She nodded, rising from the bed and silently following him like a half-asleep zombie, making him laugh again. If she had been more alert, she might have noticed Sam was fidgety and anxious. She could often get a good read on people. As it was, Y/N was still too tired and too under-caffeinated to notice much of anything. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it, as they walked into the kitchen. The aroma of coffee made her hum in delight.

“How do you take it?” Sam asked, nudging her towards the table.

She told him how she preferred her morning cup of joy as she plopped into a seat. Smiling when he handed her a cup, she was transfixed as his large body moved to sit at the table opposite her. Y/N was mesmerized by his eyes, a wonderful mix of blue, brown, and gold shimmering like a portal to a magical realm. All of this was accentuated by the bright and warm smile that greeted her like the morning sun.

“You seem happy,” she mentioned, sipping her drink and waking up rapidly. She was unable to remove her gaze from his intoxicating bright eyes and gentle smile.

“Ah, no big deal or anything, but I met my soulmate recently,” he said, dropping his gaze to his mug, the tips of his ears pinkening.

He had thought about it repeatedly the night before, but didn't get much sleep. The whole thing was undoubtedly a big-ass wrench tossed into their lives amidst everything else they were dealing with. But the thoughts and possibilities within her were endless, not just for cases and their work, but for them. She could be the key to saving Dean, to saving them both.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, her stomach doing weird things as she looked at him. Was he reacting that way over her? Then her heart sank, remembering this was all manufactured by Chuck. It’s not real.

He frowned when he looked back up at her, seeing her avoiding his gaze and looking shy and scared again. He could feel a sense of trepidation radiating from her, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Why was she so closed off if she was a fan and their soulmate?

Before he could inquire, Dean grumbled as he lumbered to the coffee pot, making himself a mug and chugging it down before pouring another and dropping into a seat beside Y/N. She jumped slightly, glancing at Sam, who frowned at her once more.

“Mornin’,” Dean grumbled before sensing the tension at the table. “What’s going on?”

Sam looked at Y/N as if waiting for her to explain, and Dean stared at her, wondering what had happened.

“Look,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples, “Chuck made me your soulmate,” she explained again, wondering why they didn’t understand. “It’s…fabricated,” she huffed, glancing between them.

“Maybe making us soulmates was fabricated,” Sam huffed, hating the word. “But this feeling-”

“Our parents were soulmates,” Dean said, not nearly as riled as Sam, which neither understood.

“Yeah,” Y/N responded with a huff. “Except they hated each other until Cupid marked them as mates,” she countered. “The whole soulmate thing was a glorified Heaven breeding program. Your words,” she said, pointing at Dean. “I don’t want to be manipulated and forced like that. Do you?”

They all fell silent at that.

Dean could understand where she was coming from and why she chose to run and try to avoid it. He couldn’t blame her, mainly because he had the Mark, and she seemed terrified of him. But he also couldn’t help but notice how being near her calmed the Mark and made him feel more like himself. Forced or not, he was inclined not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Over the next few hours, Y/N talked with them about what she knew of them and their lives up until now. By this point, she understood better where she landed within the ‘story.’ She gave vague details about the future - or what she knew - but didn’t want to tell them everything. Y/N suspected that some details should remain secret or might even change with her presence. She didn’t want to stir the pot if things weren’t going to happen the way they did in the show.

The silence drew out when she finished before they were interrupted as Sam’s phone rang. Y/N let out a long breath and finished off her drink. She was tired of talking, tired in general. Dean listened to Sam’s side of the conversation, picking up enough to get the gist.

“Hunt?” Dean inquired as Sam hung up the phone.

“Yeah,” he sighed, glancing at Y/N and then back to his brother.

“You’re coming with,” Dean announced, looking at Y/N as he rose. “I can’t leave you here by yourself. You might run off again.”

“Like I can’t run off from some random damn motel?” she growled back, hating how Dean was so determined to control her and keep her under his thumb.

“I’ll chain you in the goddamn bathroom if I have to!”

“Dean!” Sam shouted, seeing the whole thing spin out of control.

“Be ready in ten!” Dean commanded as he stormed off toward his room.

“I’m sorry about Dean,” Sam apologized to Y/N, gesturing for her to join him as they went down the hall to their rooms to pack. “He just wants to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she responded harshly, “But that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like that.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t be so upset if you didn’t keep running away, Y/N!” Sam bit back, instantly regretting his harsh tone but feeling the same ire Dean did. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “Look, just go grab your bag,” he sighed defeatedly, stopping in front of her door and waiting for her to get her things.

She scowled, feeling like she was being babysat. Why couldn’t they understand that she avoided them for their sake?!

Once she was ready, Sam had her follow him to his room. She stood in the open doorway, her eyes flitting over his room and belongings as he hastily packed a bag. It didn’t look homey or settled, but she knew Sam had no idea what home was. He never had a room to decorate or the space to cart around many personal items.

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam headed for the door, bag in one hand, the other reaching out to Y/N’s lower back, ushering her through the halls to the garage. Dean was already loading his bag into the trunk of the Impala, glancing briefly at the pair before fidgeting with his keys.

Sam dropped his bag in the trunk, moving around to the passenger side, their movements fluid and practiced. Y/N opted to keep the bag slung over her shoulder, and Dean rolled his eyes, closing the trunk. He opened the rear door, just as he had the first time she met them. And just as before, she slowly climbed into the back with apprehension.

They were silent as Dean drove away from the Bunker and through the small town. Y/N immediately recognized the main strip she had traveled.

“So, where are we headed?” Dean asked, prompting Sam to provide the information on the case.

Y/N wasn’t listening. She was in the car, in the backseat, seeing Dean driving and Sam faithfully beside him. Her inner fangirl was going wild. But it also mixed with new, ever-growing feelings that she was sure were tied to the soulmate thing. She wasn’t sure if it was her feelings or theirs. It took most of her focus and energy to control everything outwardly. The last thing she needed was to give in to the horny fangirl.

That bitch couldn’t be trusted.

-

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.”

The voice stirred her from slumber, but the sudden touch of another jolted her into consciousness. She sat upright, moving away from the source before opening her eyes. Rubbing the sleep out, she focused, seeing she was still in the backseat of the Impala.

Sam looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry. Dean’s getting a room now,” he said, pointing to the motel where they were parked.

He climbed out of the car, and she grabbed her bag, following suit. She was grateful that she learned to be functional quickly in her years working in security. Tight shifts and long hours made her used to little sleep and maximum efficiency.

Dean quickly returned, Sam grabbing their bags as Dean led the way to their room for the night. Y/N followed silently, glancing around the room as the brothers quickly settled in. It seemed an upgrade from what she usually saw on the show. This place seemed more modern and clean.

There were still only two beds and three of them.

Of course, she wasn’t lucky enough to have a couch here. Maybe they could request a cot or something?

Her inner fangirl repeatedly screamed, ‘Only one bed, only one bed’ in an excited squeal. But the reality of it made her feel uneasy, her stomach unsettled. It is a perfect scenario for Chuck’s soulmate plans, but an absolute wrench in her plan to abstain from them.

“I’m gonna go grab some grub,” Dean grumbled, barely casting the others a glance before he was out the door, the Impala’s engine the last sound before an uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, her rucksack over one shoulder, both hands clinging to the strap. She didn’t know what to do or where she fit in.

Sam’s loud sigh drew her attention. He glanced at her before returning to the duffle on the small kitchenette table. She stepped closer, setting her bag in one of the chairs, looking up at him, then at the items he was lying on the table.

“We need to lay out some protections for the room,” Sam explained, salt and paint cans laid out. “I’ll show you how we do it.”

She silently followed Sam around the room, listening to his explanations and watching how he laid everything out. It was necessary, and she was determined to memorize it as quickly as possible. The show usually glossed over these details, so seeing them firsthand was a valuable experience.

By the time they’d finished, Dean returned with several bags of food. Y/N’s stomach grumbled as the smells wafted through the small space. The meal passed in relative silence, though Y/N was aware of the silent looks and conversation the brothers were having. She tried her best to ignore it, hating being excluded in such a way. She’d have to learn their secret looks and pick up on this Winchester Sign Language as best as possible.

“We should hit the hay,” Dean announced, rising and stretching, tossing his trash before heading to the bathroom with his duffel. “Got an early start tomorrow.”

The bathroom door clicking closed made Y/N feel a little more relaxed, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She glanced at Sam to see him studying her curiously.

“You’re terrified of him, aren’t you?” Sam inquired, a bit of sorrow creeping into his tone.

“A little,” she admitted. “Especially with the Mark.”

Sam huffed, “He’s not a bad person.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile at Sam’s response, so quick to defend his brother. She laid a hand reassuringly on his forearm.

“I know,” she insisted. “But the Mark is scary and unpredictable. It’s changing him. He’s not always himself, entirely.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair, his worry for Dean showing clearly. It slid back behind his wall, a friendly smile replacing it as he looked at her again. “We should probably get ready for bed,” he said, grabbing his bag and changing.

She and Sam changed quickly, turning their backs to each other, respecting each other’s privacy as much as possible in the small space.

“You should probably bunk with me,” Sam stated, moving to the bed furthest from the door and climbing on the side closer to the door. “Dean can sleep pretty rough, especially when he has nightmares,” he explained sheepishly.

“Um, are you sure? Doesn’t that seem…weird?” She hesitated, chewing thoughtfully on her lip as she eyed the bed warily.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam huffed. “And it’s not weird. You’re my soulmate, Y/N.”

“Stop saying that!” she growled in frustration, Sam’s head snapping in her direction. “It’s fabricated; it’s not real!” She was shouting now, but was so irritated that they seemed to ignore that Chuck had done all this to them.

“Look,” Sam sneered. “I get that you have issues with all this, and I have my own, believe me,” he huffed, barely keeping back the raging hurt he felt from her constant denial of what he could feel, more intense and real than most things he’d ever felt. “But that doesn’t mean you get to tell me how to feel about it.”

Huffing a breath, Y/N couldn’t muster an argument. He had a point, and the guilt grew within her as she realized what she hadn’t meant to do.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she deflated, Sam softening in response. “I’m freaking out here, man.”

He smirked and huffed a laugh, glad whatever that was had passed quickly between them. 

“Yeah, I guess I keep forgetting about that,” he admitted bashfully. “You feel so…familiar. Like you’ve always been there, even though logically, I know we’ve just met.”

With a silent agreement to leave it there for now, Sam climbed into bed first, settling on his back. Y/N hesitated a moment before relenting and carefully crawled into the other side of the bed, lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her mind was going wild with Sam’s words and what had just happened. It was an emotional roller coaster. Dean emerged from the bathroom and wordlessly climbed into the empty bed. Sam turned off the light, settling on his side, his back to Y/N.

She remained still, staring at the ceiling and contemplating her new life.

-

The sound of hushed voices roused her from sleep. She yawned and stretched, sitting up and seeing the brothers at the small table, flashing smiles.

“Mornin’,” Dean chirped, taking a large bite from his breakfast burrito.

She was surprised she slept so well; she didn’t even remember falling asleep. She was just lying awake in anxiety. She usually struggled to sleep, tossing and turning, waking up every time she moved. But last night, she was just out, in a deep sleep.

Sam Winchester was beside you all night.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, climbing out of bed and to the bathroom. When she reemerged, the scent of coffee drew her to the small table. Sam silently handed a cup to her as Dean kicked at the leg of the chair, scooting it out for her to sit between them.

“I think you should take the police station, and I’ll take the morgue,” Sam said as the pair cleaned up from their morning meal. She noticed they were both cleaned and dressed in suits, ready to start the case.

“This is for you,” Dean said as he handed her a small phone. “We’ll keep in touch while we work on the case.”

She accepted it with a nod. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to being trapped in a motel room for who knows how long, but she wasn’t excited about the prospect of being out and about with some unknown supernatural thing killing people. As the door closed behind their retreating bodies, Y/N huffed out an annoyed breath, silently cursing Chuck in her mind once more for putting her in this situation.

She quickly learned that ‘we’ll keep in touch’ meant Sam would ‘text you sporadically as they see fit.’ She’d spent the whole day in the room, bored out of her mind from daytime television, only getting small bits of information from Sam. It was mostly just to let her know they were still alive. She didn’t want to initiate calls or texts, as she worried it could cause issues or make her appear needy.

She hated that part, sitting in the room, not knowing what was happening. She remembered that Sam spent most of his childhood feeling the same way, asking the same questions. Her heart sank for him, feeling like this day in and day out, constantly in new and unfamiliar places and always alone. She wished she could have stayed at the Bunker. If she hadn’t run, maybe they would have trusted her alone there. Though it seemed she’d be alone regardless.

It was getting late, and the sun had set long ago. The last text from Sam told her it was werewolves, and they decided to scout their possible hideout. It had been a couple of hours, and she hadn’t heard anything, but she didn’t want to message them and risk distracting them. Freaking werewolves!

She tried not to linger, knowing the Winchesters could handle themselves, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What would happen to her if somebody killed the Winchesters? She ordered a pizza and waited for it to arrive, the grumbling of her stomach occupying her attention for the time being.

When the knock on the door came, she jumped and grinned as she grew excited about the food. Checking the peephole first, she saw a blond woman on the other side holding the pizza box. She opened the door and greeted the delivery woman with a warm smile.

In an instant, the woman’s smile morphed into a snarl, her movements too fast and sudden for Y/N to react. The woman pushed her inside the motel room, shutting the door behind her and dropping the box on the table.

“Those two hunter friends of yours attacked my pack,” she hissed as Y/N took a retreating step for each of the woman’s steps forward. “They killed everyone! But I managed to escape. And imagine my surprise when I caught their scent here,” she grinned, her eyes and teeth changing to reveal she was a werewolf.

“Nothing personal, hun, but they killed my pack, so I’ll kill theirs.”

Y/N didn’t have time to process that there was a freaking werewolf in front of her or that she was somehow considered the Winchesters' pack now. The woman lunged at her, and Y/N jumped into action, bobbing to the side and missing the hit thrown her way. 

It had been a long time since Y/N had been in a fight and never against a creature, but her instincts and training kicked in. She wasn’t about to let what happened with Crowley happen again. She might die, but she would put up one hell of a fight.

The door burst open, and Sam and Dean rushed through to see Y/N fighting with the wolf that ran off. She was wounded, her clothes torn, and blood and bruising appeared on her skin. But she was giving as good as she got, giving back hard hits for each she took. The brothers' grand entrance drew the wolf’s attention, and she growled, knowing she was outnumbered.

Turning towards Y/N, she meant to land a fatal blow; her arm held high, and claws extended. A shot rang out, and the woman’s body lurched forward, her arm lowering and claws slicing down the front of Y/N’s stomach as the werewolf fell to the ground lifeless.

Y/N screamed out, her hands clutching at the open wounds as she stumbled back and fell to the ground. The pain was immense, the sight of blood oozing through her clenched hands making her start to hyperventilate.

“Y/N?” Sam was kneeling over her, his hands hovering over her own as he saw the growing pool of blood beneath her. Another shot rang out, making her wince.

“We’ve gotta get out of here, now. Someone’s going to call the cops after those shots.”

Sam nodded, turning his attention back to Y/N, scooping her into his arms bridal-style. She winced at the movement, too concerned over her wound and the fact that she might die to care about her insecurities or how she felt she was too heavy and oversized to be carried in such a fashion.

It was all a blur, Sam climbing into the backseat with her in his arms, the doors slamming, engine revving, screech of tires, and jerky movements as Dean peeled out of the lot, desperate to get space between them and the town and get Y/N to safety.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

@kr804573

@nancymcl

DEAN WINCHESTER:

@slamminmine

@deandreamernp

@awkward-and-indecisive

@akshi8278

@mimaria420

SAM WINCHESTER:

@b3autyfuldisast3r

[sokkastyles]

I just saw an article on Twitter that stated that Netflix's live action ATLA adaptation is going to make Toph's character more feminine. People on Twitter had really strong reactions to this, so I decided to read the article first before assuming what this meant. The actress who has been casted as Toph (Miya Cech) did mention that one of the changes to Toph's character is that she is slightly older (because of the actress's age), and also that the character is going to be slightly more feminine. Miya stated that she wanted to work in a more humanizing environment, and that she did speak to the original voice actress for Toph. Both of them have very similar methods for how they approached their portrayal of Toph. I still don't want to jump the gun when it comes to any of this, especially because I do think that some of the more original bits of writing the live action Netflix ATLA writing team came up with kind of did work at times (Iroh being more of a grey shaded character, the 41st regiment idea, Lu Ten's funeral, Bumi's feelings of abandonment, the Gyatso scenes, etc.). I wanted to know, what are your thoughts about this?

Okay, so I'm of two minds about this.

I love Toph, and I will also defend gender nonconforming girls to the death.

However

The complete uproar I'm seeing over this is pretty ridiculous. As you pointed out, Miya said that Toph will be "slightly" more feminine. Older is obvious, because Miya is an adult. Which also informs Toph's character because a lot of Toph's behaviors stem from her being a kid. Which doesn't mean that all tomboys need to grow into feminine women, but in the original show, Toph is a kid. She's one of the boys, yeah, but she also enjoys getting to feel pretty, has crushes, and is desperate for female companionship, as her relationship with Katara shows.

Miya is also correct about the original show being a cartoon and I'm seeing people pull this phrasing waaaay out of context to imply Miya is saying that gender nonconformity is "unrealistic." That's not what's being said at all, and I hate to break it to y'all, but Toph is a cartoon, and her lack of femininity is often played for laughs in the original show. The girl literally rolls in dirt. Like, it's obvious why that won't translate to live action well, the same way Sokka's over the top sexism wouldn't, or Katara bulging her eyes when Sokka makes a sexist joke or smacking him upside the head. It's a GOOD thing that the show is deciding to take these things more seriously instead of having us point and laugh at how haha funny it is that Toph doesn't like to wear dresses.

Also, what does "slightly" more feminine even mean? I saw someone saying that doing this would "take away the point of Toph," as if all Toph is or ever will be is her eschewing of femininity. But there's another important aspect to Toph, and that's her disability. The problem with the role Toph is forced into by her parents isn't that it's feminine, it's that they denied her agency. They wanted her to be feminine in a way that's helpless and doesn't take up space. If Toph were sneaking out every night to go dancing with heavy makeup, do you think her parents would like that better? Of course not. I'm more interested in the question of what femininity means for Toph as a disabled girl, because disabled girls always have to live in that liminal space.

I also suspect that Miya, like a lot of young actresses cast in similar roles, is wary of being typecast. I mean, look at how Maisie Williams was treated for her role on Game of Thrones. Even after her character grew up and had sex with a boy she had loved since season two, many people did not accept it because tomboy characters are supposed to be genderless beings. A standard which, again, is also applied to disabled girls.

Also people are still repeating the point about the show "removing" Sokka's sexism when they very much did not do that. He's still weird about Suki being a warrior, and the show still has him learn to respect her, without the simplistic "girls can fight, too" moral. Also the way people talk about Suki in the live action is really gross and misogynistic and makes it clear how much she has to fight for respect in the original show in the first place, which is evidence that it wasn't as progressive as people like to pretend it is.

[lususnatura]

blamore, of course, was leaving a lot of his past out still around harley. there was this part of him that made him believe that, even though she had displayed no ill will towards him for any part of his villainy or even his current state of being — as a monster — that the fact that he had allowed himself to be disillusioned by his job would make him look like an asshole. i mean, he had been through the years of grad school studying to become a psychologist and even had a concentration in forensics. so he should've known what he was getting into, right?

but it felt like blamore had stepped into a whole nother world of despair whenever he had to face the same people again and again after they appeared to turn their life around. at least then, though, he had a more complete idea of who he was as a person. blamore tried not to think about it in more detail now, however, as it was bumming itself out just thinking about the topic. the creature attempted to go to its happy place and found that he started to think about visiting annecy once more, except with harley this time around. they could take a boat ride through the canals and enjoy some tarte tatin together.

blamore came back to reality whenever he heard harley giggle and that's when he remembered that they indeed had a whole period of time there where there was practically no sun at all in some regions of alaska. a slightly awkward chuckle left its lips as it itched at its neck with a hand, looking off to the side, ❝ ahh... that's right. people in barrow in particular go through a particularly long period of time without seeing the sun, don't they? i now fully agree with you on not going there during the winter. and that would be fun, yeah! ❞ he nodded as he could only utter a soft 'oh' in response to that at first. that did sound bad, blamore thought, because not only was tearing your ACL a pretty painful injury but harley was on a scholarship that depended on physical activity.

❝ you tore your ACL? jesus, i'm sorry, my love. i can't even imagine the amount of pain and stress you must've been under. i hope that you were able to get some form of rehab for it, ❞ blamore cleared his throat before he adjusted his position as harley had noticed. he really wasn't sure whether he wanted to just take advantage of the way the other was pleasuring him, because it seemed a bit selfish to him, so that's why he adjusted his position while the other stroked him. it took it a few moments to decide how it wanted to make harley feel good, but once it did, it went all in as her top was removed from her body. blamore caressed the surface of her nipples with his thumbs as he traced her figure with one hand while the other stayed on her breast.

along with the rubbing she was doing against its shaft, it began to rub at her pubic area to stimulate her further and rolled his hips against her. blamore moaned as it felt harley's folds against its cock, picking up one of the straps of her bottoms slightly. he spoke in between kisses to harley then and matched her joking energy, ❝ h-hey, don't underestimate me, chère. i may be losing my self-control but not all of it is gone yet. now i personally would prefer for you to be... be on top, because i feel like doing it the other way around could make you choke. but what do you want to do? ❞

" Yeah... as messed up as it sounds some of tha' best times were in tha' weirdest places. Bein' on the run when you should be anxious, but just memories tie you to things that most would ask are you ok if you told them ya' really missed a shitty ol' suburban area. Like here I wouldn't book this eva' by myself... or if I did it would be ta' host cookouts wit' people. BUt ... I'm happy bein' here wit' you."

At mentions of Alaska Harley held up her hand. "No thanks... I do like a bit of fun 'en the sun. If Alaska I'd make sure it sure as hell wasn't winter. Okay?" she asked curling into him. They could have talked for hours like that and she doubted there ever would be a moment of boredom. Even when she had worked in the same profession it was curious to learn that clinics weren't entirely too different. Perhaps it would have been a safer bet had she accepted some of the offers she had been given. Then again if she had never gone to Gotham, she imagined having this moment would have been nonexistent.

" Yer' sweet... but next remember I have money too 'en I ain't as tight on tha' purse strings. Besides I have business outside Gotham, same as you... So international is not an issue. As fa' staying in tha' US. I don't mind. I got a few places near 'en dear ta' my heart. BUT... I wanna build stuff wit you. Hence tha' adventure."

Her fingers caressed over raised patches of flesh as her fingers etched along veins running towards his groin. She began to lower herself when she felt her head being upward. Her eyes looked to glimmer in the light perhaps ever encased by the chemicals that mended into her tissue from the vat. None the less she remained poised and attentive to hear what Balmore wished.

" I could kiss you till my lips chapped 'en you were forced to produce aloe from yer' veins to sooth me," she replied softly, masking the fact her hands were at work stroking the base of his shaft. Forced to watch him harden a blush formed on Harley's cheeks. With his nails so close to undoing her top she tried to lean forward letting out a moan as thoughts of being his clouded her judgement.

[fussystreetlight]

I know antis like throwing the term logical fallacy around, but as someone who had to take a philosophy class, antis would have an aneurysm in that class.

One time we had a discussion about incest. The professor asked us why it was wrong. When we responded it was because of inbreeding and that a child would be hurt, he asked us "what if the couple couldn't have kids?". That was how the class went. We'd come up with a reason and he'd ask us to think about if that context was removed and whether or not we'd still react the same without that context.

He wanted to teach us to think about why things are right or and wrong and what effect context would have on our morals and perceptions. Because things aren't wrong because they're wrong, and we're not born knowing right from wrong even if we do have enough empathy to not want to hurt someone.

I think classes like this are useful for teaching critical thinking skills, but from what I've seen of antis, they'd probably freak out over someone talking about bad things in even the slightest positive light...

[amohyunwoo]

🦷.

[monster-noises]

I know I've made like.. this exact post like four other times but it's gunna keep coming back up until I Figure It Out so.. I have been on and off thinking about the actually solid Idea I had for remaking FaHI as an Original text (along side or after FaHI Proper is written) And I think where I've ended up with it is pretty good! It captures a lot of the same themes and the bones of the thing and I like it! And Yet........ I don't think it is possible to 1 to 1 translate FaHI, it will always Loose Things, very very important things that will always make it a Completely Different Story. The same heart around the same ideas, in the broadest sense, but as soon as you take it out of exactly Where and What It Is it becomes something completely different.. Like you can't hit Any of the same story beats in the same way.. The structure of the environment is different so the way everyone interacts changes and thus shifts every important interpersonal moment.. the situation with the mold and the magic changes and changes the characters themselves in inherent ways that change how they interact with the world and each other but I have to change these things else it will be Very Obvious What This Was.. not a revolutionary concept by any means but I'm not entirely sure what to do with it.... FaHI; the fanwork is a story I Very much love and want to share as the fanwork that it is but there's a lot about FaHI that I love and Wish dearly I could share in a professional or personal context and I simply can't as much because of it's limitations as a fanwork... and I want to split the difference but ooo it always feels like I'm loosing so much.. GRAH!!

[seddair]

‘

[sv3t1ana]

Thinking about Husband!Sukuna who just lets you do whatever the fuck you want now.

There was a time when he protested. A time when he had pride, pride in being a man, in being a fearsome king, commanding respect wherever he went.

But you?

You were relentless. So utterly, absurdly relentless that at some point, he just stopped fighting it.

He had never been a man of many words, and marriage hadn’t changed that. It was only a week ago that he sat comfortably on his throne, heavy head resting in his palm as he drifted off to sleep, until he was interrupted by the sudden weight (or loss?) on his chest.

A lesser man would have panicked, but your husband? No. He merely took a long inhale, an even longer exhale, and cracked one eye open to find your tiny, mischievous hands cupping his pecs like a scientist.

“They don’t really move like mine,” you mused, experimentally bouncing the firm muscle in your grasp.

He didn’t know if the subject of this experiment was his breaking point or whatever nonsense idea had wormed its way into your head this time.

Your expression was serious, too serious, as you moved in front of him, gripping the hem of his robe as if a scholar prepped for a dissertation.

“May I remove this?”

His eyes, half-lidded with the dull exhaustion that only centuries of being a king could bring, slowly trailed to meet yours. His lips pressed into a flat line.

You took his silence as consent.

And soon enough, his shirt was discarded, leaving him bare from the waist up as you squinted in intense concentration, leaning in close to his chest.

It was pathetic, really. The size difference. Your husband was a mountain of a man, yes, his frame large enough to dwarf yours entirely. And yet, there you were, fingers struggling to span across his tits as you earnestly attempted to jiggle them, as if you could replicate your own softness on his ironclad frame.

At one point, you had both of his pecs squished together, testing them like some critical judge at a livestock competition.

“Wow, you’re a lot different than me.”

Oh, his lovely wife. His lovely wife, who was genuinely comparing her milk-producing breasts to those of a war-hardened king.

Oh, the patience he had for you.

And despite the sheer disrespect you continually brought upon the honor of Sukuna, the King, the Conqueror, the Lord of Curses…

He still let you.

And it never stopped.

Because right now, right this very moment, he was balls-deep inside you, your knees pinned to your chest as he fucked you senseless, guttural moans echoing in the grand chamber as he pounded into your dripping cunt.

The nights the lord would bed his wife was always the same, multiple orgasms, a sore throat, bruises painting your skin like a lover’s signature, and the brutal satisfaction of a man who knew he could ruin you.

There couldn’t have been a worse time, a worse thought, and for the first time in his life, Sukuna wished, prayed, for something to be different about his wife.

“W-wait, ‘Kuna- fuck- wait-!”

Because he never wanted you in pain, never wanted you to feel anything but pleasure despite the sixth climax of the night barreling toward him, he reluctantly halted.

Oh, may the lords above grant him the strength.

Because you, thoroughly fucked out, hair knotted, sweat glistening across your body, brought your trembling hands forward,

and groped his fucking tits.

Like he was some toy for you to hold onto.

“Okay, continue.”

He stilled. In shock? In horror? In spiritual agony?

Slowly, he tried to thwart at your hands, momentarily lifting one from under your knee, but-

“No, I said continue.”

That’s right. Your wish was his command.

So he continued. And every time his cock rammed deep into your walls, every time you moaned so sinfully, your little hands squeezed tighter.

It was almost comical, your soft, delicate fingers clutching at his immovable chest as if this was your god-given right.

With a grunt, he muttered, “Why must you do this?” His brows furrowed, thrusts becoming punishing.

Through your breathless whimpers, you somehow managed, “Ngh- I just- oh, god- like them.”

His cock twitched at your honesty.

His breasts flexing in tandem.

And when your shaking fingers dared to pinch his nipple…

Oh, that was when the real fun began.

“Fuck, don’t- fuck-” He spat through gritted teeth.

Neither of you could ignore the way his back arched the tiniest bit, the way his thrusts faltered for a split second as your fingers toyed with him.

You were too far gone to form coherent sentences, let alone fucking laugh, but your lips curled in amusement, jaw slack as the wet pat-pat-pat of his cock slamming into you filled the air.

“You think this shit is funny?”

His hold on you shifted. With inhuman ease, he lifted your legs, pressing them together straight up in the air, holding your feet in a single massive hand while his other gripped your thigh in a vice.

The new position devastating.

His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, punching deep into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix with every pump.

It was enough to wreck you, your body shuddering as your next orgasm tore through you like divine wrath.

And Sukuna, normally composed and always in control, was panting.

As you both lay side by side afterward, spent and breathless, a singular, intrusive thought carved its way into your little head.

“...Can I be big spoon tonight?”

He didn’t respond, simply sighing and rolling onto his side. Letting you attempt to wrap your arms around his impossibly broad back.

Oh, his lovely, sweet wife.

Your hand reached down, fingers splaying, grabbing a handful of his ass.

A slow, agonizing inhale.

Then a measured, exasperated exhale.

“...No more tonight. Please.”

You couldn’t see his face, your own buried between his shoulder blades.

But maybe, juuust maybe, someone, somewhere, could say there was the barest twitch of a smile on his lips.

[solvisun]

011925. cw | slightly suggestive (?) i hate him (affectionate)

if tsukishima kei learns the full extent of you losing your mind over the minuscule of things with everything he does,

babe, you’re done for.

if he learns that removing his glasses while kissing you makes your stomach do saumersaults, or when he fixes your clothes casually; smoothing down your skirt or adjusting your shirt, hand on your waist. or when he cups your face and squeezes both of your cheeks together, when it shows that he loves the physical touch in ways that feel crude if you say it aloud. in ways that no one else can speak about, makes you so mushy with him. to the point that it makes you sick, head throbbing.

if he learns that you find his jealousy kind of attractive, all cutting and ruthless, snappy. that you're totally not weak in the knees. if he learns that whenever he leans in whenever you speak is the cause of why you feel flustered, when he hums softly in question, tilting his head, or when he just hook you in his arms to get closer.

god. he will take absolute pleasure in pushing those buttons even more—actually, he’d press them with the precision of someone who knows exactly how far he can go to leave you reeling, all while pretending it’s no big deal.

and this is exactly what happens, as expected, but no less frustrated.

when he realizes how much removing his glasses during a kiss messes you up, he’d start doing it slow and methodical, taking his time to set them aside while giving you that piercing look, like he knows exactly what’s coming next. “what, nervous?” he’d ask, leaning in just a fraction, his tone laced with mockery, but his lips soft when they finally meet yours.

those casual touches? forget it. his hands—though he would ask first—roam your body and let them linger around your waist dangerously longer than necessary, you're not making it up now, you know you feel the slight squeezes his does on your skin, letting his fingers graze, just enough to send shivers down your spine.

when he holds your face in one hand, there’s something about how his thumb lingers near your jawline or how he leans in just a little too close. it’s playful, sure, but there’s a tenderness beneath it that leaves you spinning. because he knows. he knows all too well.

it's game over when he finally does this—one arm braced above your head, his whole figure towering over you, casting a shadow which makes him look ten times more insufferable. you cannot breathe.

his lips hover just shy of yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. “do i really make you that nervous?”

"fuck off."

"really? that’s all you’ve got? how original.”

“kei, i swear to—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb brushes the curve of your jaw, the touch barely there but devastating all the same.

“what? gonna tell me to stop?” the glint in his eyes turns playful, pupils dilated, “you’re all talk, aren’t you?”

your hands twitch at your sides, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer. “i hate you,” you hiss, but it lacks any real bite.

“sure you do,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, and then—because of course he does—he closes the infinitesimal gap between you, his lips brushing against yours with infuriating slowness.

he kisses you chastely. it feels so wrong with how he already built so much tension. that this all just a stupid game he can easily control.

there’s a distinct edge of smugness to it, like he’s savoring every second of your undoing. when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, the smirk is still there, lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“still want me to fuck off?” he asks, though he already knows the answer to it.

you can only scoff and roughly smack your lips against his in a solid, and very straightforward reply. your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

he relents to you just as easily, this is why he simply can't get enough of you.

my stupid writers block is not making me write properly for the hershey’s kisses mini series so i had to pull this stupid drabble outta my sick ass (coughing loudly as we speak)

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[jinwoosungs]

01/08/25; 05:11pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they allow you to spoil them in bed instead ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, + bonus

notes: these are very much thirsty, bite-sized thoughts, hence why i added a bonus boy at the end (⺣◡⺣)♡

major edit as of 01/10/25 at around 11:00am -> removed the term “pillow princes” from the main title.

warnings: unedited; somnophilia for xavier's

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it felt like you were squeezing his cock the moment you made your steady descent down on him, taking him in inch by breathtaking inch before stopping completely once he was sheathed deep inside of you. your breathy moans were nothing short of sweet music to his ears when sylus felt you plant your hands on his chest before setting a pace.

your thrusts were uneven, and it was clear that you were struggling a bit when it came to riding him. although a smug expression was seen on his face, it takes sylus a herculean effort to simply lay back in bed with his head pressed against on the plush pillow. every part of his body was screaming at him to simply grip at your hips and turn you on your knees for him-

but alas, he was a good lover who wanted to follow your own wishes of spoiling him on the date of your anniversary. even if it takes you several seconds to set a decent pace, the onychinus leader was left gasping the moment you began to bounce yourself up and down his cock. the sounds of your slick walls stroking his dick echoes throughout the room, the pleasure erupting across sylus's veins consuming him.

with your hardened clit felt rubbing against his shaft, you suddenly toss your head back at the hedonistic friction, making sylus feel the way your walls gripped him tightly as your arousal stains at his cock. sylus was dimly aware of his broken grunts that echo throughout the room, his large hands clawing at the sheets below him when you continue riding him. showing no signs of stopping anytime soon (even after your first climax) sylus felt his breathing hitch the moment you lean over him, pressing a hot kiss against his naked chest while bouncing on him-

and sylus was certain that he wouldn't survive the night.

zayne lost all sense of coherency the moment he felt your tongue wrapped around the hardened bud on his chest coupled along with the sensation of your gentle hands stroking his cock.

his once neatly made bed was in disarray now the moment you pushed his body against his plush mattress. your name escapes from his parted lips a few times, yet they fall on deaf ears as you were solely focused on his pleasure alone.

the doctor shivers when he feels your tongue licking up a stripe against his chest all while whispering against his skin, "you're always taking care of me, so it's time that i do the same for you."

"honey, you really don't have to-" but his protests immediately turn into sharp gasps when he feels the pad of your thumb collect the drops of his pre-cum that escapes from the tip of his cock. his breathing becomes labored, feeling a blush dye his cheeks a rosier hue when you slowly release his hardened cock from your hands.

a wave of relief courses through him from being freed, yet it was short lived when you pry his legs apart, settling yourself between his thighs while licking your lips at the sight of his erection. "you won't mind if i get a little taste, right doctor?"

xavier had woken up the moment he felt your hands gripping at the waistband of his sweats from beneath the comforter, yet he continues to feign sleep while allowing you to do as you pleased with him.

once his sweatpants were off, xavier had to grip at his comforter to keep his cock from going hard upon feeling your breath against his boxers. while you were focused on slowly removing the thin fabric, xavier had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from letting out a groan.

with his eyes still closed, he feels the way his boxers pool against his ankle before falling off of him completely. waiting with bated breath for your next move, xavier could no longer fake being asleep as the sensation of your hot mouth surrounding his aching cock fills him.

panting, he opens both of his eyes, his gaze going hazy when he saw the outline of your head settled directly over him from beneath the blankets. his cock hardens even further when your hands were felt stroking whatever part of him you couldn't fit in your mouth, making xavier's back arch against the bed.

something about you doing sinful things to his body while hidden beneath the covers was a major turn-on for xavier, and as your mouth and hands continues to stroke his cock, the philos prince allows you to remind him of what heaven was like.

rafayel was laying back in bed, (just as naked as you were) with a smug expression on his face. "you think you can take care of me, princess? that you know enough to completely satisfy me? then by all means, go ahead, babe." his cocky voice echoes throughout the room-

and you were determined to wipe that smirk off his face.

deciding to give him a show, you lick your lips and tell him, "you just lay back in bed, rafe... and watch the show without touching yourself."

after hearing your words, you saw what looked like a flash of anxiety go across his eyes (eyes that appeared to house the galaxies themselves) along with a tiny gulp. he purses his hips while meeting your gaze, the anxious expression gone within a mere few seconds as he gives you a come hither motion with his hands, "bring it on, baby."

you let out a breathy giggle before getting to work. using both of your hands, you cup at your heaving breasts, pinching and prodding at your nipples while letting out out moans of his name. "fuck, you feel so good, rafe... keep touching me, just like that."

you hear the way his breathing hitches in response, feeling a grin spread across your lips before allowing a hand to travel down towards the spot between your legs. as you spread them open, you dip a finger into your aching cunt, tracing at your outer lips while collecting the honeyed sweetness of your arousal.

yet your show was short lived when rafayel was heard whining to you.

"ngh- fuck, princess." you open your eyes just then, continuing to finger yourself when you saw rafayel clawing at the sheets below him. his erection stood proudly for you, yet still, he heeds your commands, not once stroking it. "you have to come here, you have to get on this dick- fuck, i need you badly baby, i need you so much."

his words succeed in making your hands stutter a bit, now feeling your pussy ache with the need for rafayel to fill you. "w-what's the magic words, rafe?"

"please!"

and with those magic words said, you climb onto the bed, joining rafayel while accepting his kiss when he leans forward. with your lips still locked with his, you slowly began sinking down on his cock-

ensuring you'll give him a night that he'll never forget.

caleb lets out a string of curses when he felt your innocent massages turn into something more... daring. with your hands squeezing the area near his inner thighs, it was clear that you had more impure intentions as his cock began steadily began to harden in response.

in fact, he didn't even know why he allowed you to spread this rose scented oil all over him-

all he knew was that your caresses felt too good against his skin. here he was, laid bare for you on the bed as you continue to massage the supposed 'kinks and knots' out of his body. admittedly, it felt amazing, being spoiled like this-

but his mind kept giving him images of your naked body glistening with the same type of oil, his cock buried to the hilt deep inside of your cunt as he fucked you into the bed.

moments later, your giggles were heard echoing throughout the room, succeeding in breaking the young pilot out of his reveries. with his hazy, violet eyes meeting your gaze, you ask (in a seductive whisper) "would you like a happy ending?"

your question makes caleb's brain short circuit, his cock twitching with anticipation as words failed him. praying that you could see the yearning and absolute need within his gaze, caleb watches your every movement. letting out a sigh of his name, you lift up your skirt and step out of your panties before rejoining him on the bed.

"keep still for me, okay? i'm going to massage your cock so well that you'll be left drooling for me, caleb." with those words serving as a promise, you gently grip at his cock before sinking down on him, earning a loud moan from him as he arches his back against the bed.

and when caleb could feel your slick walls surrounding him oh so sweetly-

he knew he was a goner.

end notes: i felt a little sick with a cold and wrote this to feel better ;-; hope you readers enjoyed it ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

major edit as of 01/10/25 at around 11:00am -> removed the term "pillow princes" from the main title.

[222col]

bimbo!reader x rafe cameron

summary: rafe's fresh out of jail, and needs to find a girl to convince ward he's been with her, not locked up for the week

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw, kidnapping

꒰ notes ꒱ based on the film buffalo '66 (1998)

pulling your little pink duffle up over your shoulder, pink tights and sheer skirt still pristine even after the hour of dance class. waving goodbye to your friends before walking down the opposite hallway. god, how you wished you’d just followed them.

“don’t fuckin’ scream.”

you would if his calloused hand wasn't gripping your cheeks so tight, muffled whimpers were all that fell through the gaps. the strangers hands grabbing and groping at your body, pulling your back flush against his chest. walking backwards out the dance studio, with you in his grip.

eyes already welling up, feet kicking as he drags you out the back door. your lipstick smudging underneath his hand, fingers surely bruising your jaw with his tight grip.

“gonna move my hand, and y’gonna be fuckin’ quiet, ‘kay?” the stranger mumbles into your ear, lips ghosting over your skin.

body slammed up against the car, meeting the face of him. pretty eyes widened as you reluctantly nod your head. he starts to slowly remove his hand from your mouth and—

“help! help me! please, help—“

his hand clamps back down over your mouth, slamming your body back against the car with force. “the fuck did i just say?”

he fumbles with the keys in his pocket, before opening the back door and pushing your body inside. locking you in immediately, he wasn’t taking any chances.

mutters of complaint under his breath as he walks around to the drivers side, sliding into his seat as his eyes lock on you through the rear view mirror.

“don’t make me hurt you, no one can hear you from inside the car, so keep that pretty mouth shut.”

rafe was fresh out of jail, finally had to pay for one of his crimes. not that he was in there long, one visit from his lawyer and he was out the place. made the fucker swear ward was to hear nothing of this. rafe was meant to be proving he could step up, be the man he was meant to be.

which is how he found himself with some pretty airhead in the back seat. he’d told ward a little white lie, to avoid the whole jail situation. told his dad he was away with his girlfriend. what girlfriend he asked. yeah, good fuckin’ question.

that’s where you come in.

“look, all you gotta do is this one thing for me and i’ll let you go,” rafe mumbles, eyes darting between the road and the mirror as he drives. aw, you’re still trying to unlock the door. poor girl. “you just gotta pretend to my girlfriend, just for a couple hours.”

now that, that got your attention. slumping back to the middle seat, looking to him through the mirror. head tilted, suddenly… docile.

“your girlfriend?” you murmur, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “you kidnapped me, to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

eyes rolling to the back of his head, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “didn’t fuckin’ kidnap you,” kidnapped, borrowed, same thing. “you just gotta act the part for couple hours for my family, then i’ll let you go.”

it wasn’t like you just forgot the way he snatched you up, didn’t forget the feeling of his hands on your body, but for some reason, you were willing to hear him out. not that you had much choice.

“soooo,” you murmur, face softening as you speak. “what’s your name?”

why were you suddenly so calm? it was freaking him out. did he manage to pick up a cute little psychopath?

“rafe.” he mumbles, eyes locked on yours through the mirror.

climbing into the front, slumping down into the seat next to him. he could lie and say he wasn’t watching the way your chest bulged over your top as you did, but that be the furthest thing from the truth.

he took his time looking over your features as you sat next to him, the glitter on your eyes, how your hair fell on your shoulders. at least he managed to pick a pretty one.

“what’s your family like?” you murmur softly, almost batting your lashes over to him. “don’t worry about it.” rafe responds, voice gruff, overcompensating for the newfound closeness between you two.

“well, how am i meant to be your girlfriend if i don’t know?” you huff, arms folded over your chest. jesus, you were temperamental.

“oh my god,” he mutters, shaking his head, knuckles growing white from his grip on the wheel. “they’re rich, my little sister will probably talk your ear off, my step-mom’s a bitch and my dad, well, my dad’s my dad.” right, helpful.

the car pulls up to tannyhill, eyes widening slightly at the size of the place. rafe puts in the car in park, and turns his body to face you. “do not fuck this up for me, i have no problem making you disappear.”

you weren’t sure if it was an empty threat or not, but you did not wanna find out. gulping down your nerves, a soft nod of your head. climbing out the car, rafe’s arm gently placed around your waist. the softness such a contrast to the way in which he first touched you.

quick introductions, playing the part. rafe's tight grip on your arm reminding you the consequences if you don't. "y'gonna sit there and look fuckin' pretty, 'kay?" he mumbles into your ear, pushing you down onto the chair. look pretty. okay, that you could do.

"rafe's just the sweetest guy i ever met," you feign a smile, leaning into him next to you, dialling up the affections before his family. ward and rose's eyes dart between each other and you. rafe? sweet? "m'so glad i met him."

fucking jackpot. you're playing this better than rafe ever could imagined, a soft kiss to the top of your head, pulling the dining chair you're sat on closer to his own. his arm gently snaking around your waist, letting you continue on with the forced pleasantries.

"he looks after me s'good," you smile, batting your lashes over to rafe. the smile on his face isn't fake, he's genuinely impressed with the performance you're putting on. "always spoiling me."

"damn right i do," rafe smirks, unable to stop the way his fingers are starting to move up under your top. c'mon, he can't help it. you're too fucking pretty and saying all these nice things about him. can barely blame him, especially when he sees the look of disapproval in rose's eyes when she notices.

"gotta look after my girl." he murmurs, loud enough for the room to hear, playing it off as though the words were meant only for you.

he's not entirely sure if everyone is buying the act, but somehow, it's working for him. rafe's genuinely getting caught up in your words, the feel of your skin beneath his fingers, the way your smile lights up your entire face. he couldn't give a fuck if the act was working on his dad, it was working on him.

"so, how'd you met?" wheezie smiles, leaning on her palms, all too excited about rafe bringing a girl home.

"country club." rafe mutters before you can attempt a lie they won't believe. his eyes barely looking away from you to answer his sister. "mhm, yeah, at the country club." you smile, nodding your head softly. rafe can't hold back the small chuckle that escapes him, pressing a kiss to your temple. you're so obedient, echoing his words, playing the perfect girlfriend. he's almost forgotten he threatened to kill you if you didn't.

his family can barely believe the scene, how gently he's touching you, how softly he's speaking to you, he was acting like someone they'd never seen before. they weren't questioning if you were his girlfriend or not, you'd manage to sell that perfectly well. ward and rose were almost in awe of how you'd managed to turn rafe into what appearred as a functioning human with emotions.

"come on, princess, we gotta go," he mumbles after an hour or so, gently leading you up and towards the door. "so soon?" wheezie complains, jumping onto her feet. rafe only rolls his eyes, ignoring his sister, too focused on getting you alone. "so nice to meet you all!" you smile, waving softly as rafe leads you back to his car.

your nerves take over once you're alone in the car again with him, driving out of his estate. "did i do okay?"

"did fuckin' perfect." rafe nods, a devilish grin plastered over his face. his hand squeezing your thigh over your tights. "that mean you can let me go now?" you whisper, lip between your teeth.

"no fucking way."

no way was rafe letting you go now, not ever. he'd had a taste of what he could have with you, he'd be stupid to let that go. you may have played the part a little too well.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.