#im not tagging the characters yall are on your own | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

betterthana-six · 4 months ago

Text

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER THREE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x musician fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) college roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: heyooo we are so fucking back! AND LOOKIE AT THAT TAG LIST AHHH THANK YOU FOR THE AMAZING RECEPTION SO FAR!!!! LOVE YOU ALL. im having so much fun writing this and watching this story spiral into absolute chaos. im honestly just trying to see how big i can make this story. much more pining this chapter but ooh girl we are getting sexier as we go, trust the process. mdni DUH. ive been wanting to write a pool scene. abby sure be falling in love. let me know if you guys are liking the structure so far, its pretty predictable. abby is snarkier and snarkier, but im always nervous to stay true to her character. let me know what yall like, and even mid story I am open to suggestions or if youre like that or this part wasnt fully fleshed out, why not let me know? im down. k have fun. bye. ALSO: i have a playlist brewing for this story. comment if you want it and ill post.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Music To My Ears: Chapter 3

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

There are tears drying on your chin when Abby abruptly stands up, pulling you up with her, towel still wrapped over your arms.

She starts pulling clothes out of the depths of her closet and throwing them onto your bed.

“What are you doing?” You sniffle.

“Put these on.”

“Your clothes won’t fit me. You have something called muscle mass.”

Abby let out a small snicker. “They’re from when I was, like, sixteen. They’ll fit,” she said.

“I have my own clothes, you know,” You gesture to your side of the room. “They’re actually about five feet away from me.”

“You’ll understand when we get there why I’m giving you my old clothes.”

“Are we hiking?”

“You hush.”

“Oh my god, is it paintball?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s paintball. The 24-hour paintball park is awaiting our arrival as we speak. How’d you guess?”

You smirk bashfully. “I’ll only put them on if you tell me what we’re doing.”

She plants herself a foot in front of you and tilts her head down. “You’re no fun.” She shoves one of her rugby sweatshirts into your stomach. “Let’s have fun. Actual fun. Come on, it’s the weekend for fuck’s sake. I just… I know a place.”

You lower the towel like a shawl around your elbows and walk over to your bed, as Abby’s eyes follow you. Seeing her, you jut your jaw out at her, waving your index finger in a circle. Abby's response was a bit delayed, she catches her eyes getting lost on your silhouette again, and struts slowly around to face her side.

You sigh and put the clothes on. The feeling of warmth from the dry clothes covers your body with a chill and you’re nearly sedated with comfort. While Abby is still turned away, you bring the sleeve of her hoodie up to your nose and smell it as quietly as you could.

“I’m ready,” you say.

Abby opens the door out to the hallway. Nobody’s out there. It’s nearly 1 am.

You still look both ways nervously, and Abby notes it, but neither of you say anything. She guides you down the hallway, the sound of her keys jangling against her thigh, hanging from the carabiner locked around her belt loop. She is sure to keep you close to her. Each time you sway or stumble a bit, she grabs your wrist and holds you up. Though, of course, you put a hand up every time to insist that you’re fine.

You are still drunk. It is indeed still obvious.

Abby turns a corner and halts the journey in front of a vending machine which blares with light in its dark corner. “Hold up, one second,” she says, as she inserts a dollar, some coins from her pocket, presses B7, grabs it from the bottom, takes your hand and puts the candy in it.

“Twix is my favorite,” you say.

“I know,” Abby says.

“You know?”

She hesitates and runs a shy hand over the back of her neck under her long braid. “I see wrappers in our trash sometimes.”

You pause with suspicious eyes.

Abby gives a small laugh and looks away. “Whatever. Eat.”

You bite and it is as forgiving on your stomach as any midnight candy bar can be, especially after the amount of alcohol it's following.

Now, Abby pulls your hand from three paces ahead of you. She seems restless, happily so, in a way you had rarely seen her. Maybe only once or twice in hindsight.

You are already out the doors of your building and into the cool air of early spring. It is almost completely dark but the moon lights the pale sidewalk visibly enough. Once your eyes fully adjust, you can see Abby. Her braid swings back and forth across her back.

After a ten minute walk through the main circle of campus, Abby takes one of the keys from her hip and opens the entrance of your school’s gym.

She checks your demeanor, and you meet her with a wide-eyed face that says: what the fuck?

“Just trust me,” she says and grabs your hand again, guiding you through the dark corridors and up the stairs, past the treadmills and weight machines.

As you approach the top, a blue haze lights Abby’s face and then yours. It’s very quiet up there in the announcer’s box, and it looks down onto the college’s Olympic sized swimming pool. You’d only ever seen it from the doors on the bottom level. You remember the first time. People were splashing about in the water but it didn’t ruin the illusion for you. The smell of chlorine. The warm humidity that threatened its way out onto you. You, who stood firmly in the air conditioned hall, pleasantly zoned out on the swimmers.

Even from behind, Abby seems so eager to fulfill her spontaneous promise of a good time. A small smile grows on her face every now and then. You become very aware of your hand in hers. Hers is gruff and big and warm, her thumb securing around your fingers messily. It’s possible you merely imagine the vibration in the space between your palms. Her touch reignites the bliss of your drunkenness, and, again, you feel light on your feet.

Abby pulls out a key and inserts it into the keyhole for a discreet door. It leads the two of you down two flights of stairs into a locker room with fresh towels piled up into neat stacks. She throws one at you: “Here.”

“No way,” you say. You realize you were so carried away you only now realized what she had brought you here to do.

“I didn’t bring you here for us not to swim.”

You smile big. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“I knew it would cheer you up.” Abby laughs.

“Wait,” you think, “someone’s gonna be here. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“No, we’re not,” she reassures, “I’m friends with the rec team. I asked for the after hours key so I can workout at night. I guess I just forgot to give them back.”

You look at her a little confused, moreso disbelieving.

“No, really, I swear. Sometimes it’s nice to de-stress at night. Let off a little steam when no one’s around,” Abby says. You smirk and lift her sweatshirt over your head, revealing the light blue tank top Abby had given you.

“Don’t I know it,” you say under your breath.

“Oh?” Abby says.

“You think I don’t notice when you don’t come back to the dorm until 5 am?” You say with a cocky tone.

Then, she, too, pulls her sweater off. She was only wearing a thin bra and boxers. You were surprised she wore anything under it at all, given her track record. You quickly note the way you don’t squirm or turn away. Perhaps it’s just a matter of familiarity - you have been roommates for three months now - or, maybe, it’s the way she’s looking at you in this moment. “You notice?”

The sudden turn of the question makes you stutter.

“I- I mean, the once or twice it's happened. Obviously.”

Instead of laughing at you this time, Abby just stands and looks at you thoughtfully. Intensely.

“Whatever. Yeah, that was…” she finally says, shaking her head, with a twinge of something shadowing her tone and preventing her from finishing her sentence.

The both of you have changed completely into her clothes, the clothes she didn’t think twice about letting you ruin with chlorine. You save her from whatever she didn’t want to say. “You could’ve at least told me to bring a swimsuit…” You say.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve spoiled the surprise,” Abby says.

At the door leading to the pool, Abby turns back suddenly, stopping before speaking.

“Okay, listen. This is a sacred rite. No one besides me, and now you, has access to this place. No one knows I have the keys, and it needs to stay that way.”

You nod. “Makes sense.”

“Because this will be really fucking fun.”

“Understood.”

“And, I’m showing it to you because you’re having a shitty, no-good night.”

You hold a salute up to your forehead. “Captain, I won't let you down.”

She rolls her eyes to your delight. “Come on.”

You find her hand in yours again. You can’t help but marvel at how natural it was - not because you are surprised - just because it still sends a shiver running down your spine.

The smell of chlorine washes over you and you breathe deep, closing your eyes and feeling the damp air warming your skin. Abby’s in front of you, hooking her phone up to a wire and resting it on the ledge of the spectator window. The speakers overhead start playing music.

“Holy shit,” you say, looking at her with amazement and pointing up to the ceiling. The Rolling Stones' “She’s A Rainbow” rings out over the speakers and fills the space completely. A smile creeps onto your face, and once it’s there, it’s stuck.

“How’d I do?” She asks.

You don’t answer but smile at your feet. You walk past her towards the edge of the concrete, sparing a devilish smirk her way right when your shoulders nearly graze each other. Only the pool lights are on, making the whole place shine with the blue dancing patterns of the water ripples. It reflects onto your face, and, when you look back at Abby, she is staring at you.

“You coming?” You ask.

And Abby eyes dart away in shock, feeling scandalized and taking what you said entirely out of context. She can’t help it; a semblance of those words have been echoing in her head for the last three months, more or less. Jolting her awake from her dreams. Both sleeping and conscious.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The first dream happened about three weeks into living together.

Since that conversation in your room on your first night, neither of you tried to initiate conversation deeper than small talk. The explosive end to that night left you reluctant to speak to her at all and left Abby anxious to say the wrong thing.

It was the beginning of the semester, anyway. Abby had a routine to establish and you were busy finding the right buildings around campus, keeping your head down, and practicing guitar.

You hadn’t been able to anticipate her comings and goings. Mostly Abby left for her day without saying a word and came back in the same manner. When she returned in the evenings, you quickly traded the guitar on your lap for earphones while Abby read silently only feet away.

"You can keep playing, I don't mind" is the only thing Abby would sometimes say. "No, it's okay. I should probably just use the practice rooms anyway," was your usual response, if you said anything at all.

The first dream happened when Abby took an impromptu nap in the early afternoon while you were out.

Her dreams involved many strange things she could never comprehend and typically forgot soon after she woke. Yet, toward the end of this dream, she saw nothing but your face, eyes softly closed, there between her legs. It was no in-depth scene. No words. No kissing. Just you, licking a line from her knee up the skin of her inner thigh.

Abby woke up with a gasp. She looked down to find there was wetness between her thighs, and momentarily she couldn’t distinguish what was and wasn’t real. She was almost convinced that you really were somewhere near, that somehow you had been there between her legs just a moment ago. But, the room was empty and the wetness had come from Abby, herself, of course.

She found her hand was there, too, under her boxers, to meet her body with stiff, soaked fingers.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to make of it, still hypnotized in her exhaustion.

She didn’t think about it. Abby began moving her fingers around in circles, her other hand placed on the top of her head, bottom lip tucked slightly under her front teeth.

She closed her eyes and, without realizing, tried to prolong the feeling that seemed so real only moments ago.

You popped into her mind. She quickened her pace.

There was something so indulgent about the image she had. It felt dirty. Naughty ideations of her own roommate was something she knew she’d feel guilty about later, a secret that could never be shared. She didn’t know where it had come from specifically, this need for you, but, honestly, she didn’t even try to interrogate it. She just exhaled hard through her nose as she tried to picture you more vividly.

“Fuck…” She whispered to herself. The feeling built and built and she gripped onto her blanket, breathing hard.

Just then, the key to your door started jangling.

Abby stopped immediately, yanked out of her dream and her tiredness altogether. She pulled up the slightly pulled down pants and sat up. She grabbed the book off her desk, opened it to a random page and pretended to be lost in the story by the time you opened the door and walked inside.

She had startled you.

“Oh, hey,” you said.

Abby looked up over the page. “Hey.”

“I forgot I need these for my next class,” you explain while gathering two books from your desk and shoving them into your backpack.

“Hm,” she said, feigning disinterest.

You zipped up and turned to leave. “Alright. See you later,” you said but met Abby’s eyes which were already on you. You turned back. “Are you okay?” You asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, your face is all red.”

Abby just shrugged, at a complete loss for words.

“Okay,” you said without a second thought. “Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

Once you were gone, Abby tossed the book, turned over onto her stomach, and buried her head beneath her pillow.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The dreams, however, only got worse from there. Abby started waking up from dreams with her hand down her pants more often than not and, by morning, they delivered her a head full of thoughts she could barely acknowledge to herself. Dreams of you sitting in her lap, dreams of her fingers in your mouth, dreams of you panting into her ear. She had visions of what you’d look like astride her hips with a smile on your face. Impossible dreams of you seducing her in huge hot tubs, or at fancy dinners with her hand squeezing tight around your thigh under a tablecloth, a gala where you both get locked in the coat closet with nothing but time to kill. These dreams consumed her until late in the day.

If there was one thing Abby promised herself she wouldn’t do is fall in love with a straight girl. Especially her roommate, who she presumed kind of hated her. This new energy you brought to her made her so vulnerable in the dark hours of the night, she felt she had to release it before she got in too deep.

So, she tried the gym. She started lifting uncharacteristically heavier. She started lifting until failure, until she had completely obliterated her muscles. Her teammates applauded her for her hard work, if only they knew the real reason for the fire lit under her ass.

It helped some. More like distracted her. But she knew the craving hadn’t fully subsided. It only took an hour for it to re-emerge. Sooner if she saw you walking to class or if you tried to spark conversation in the dorm, which was rare but nonetheless excited Abby when it did happen.

One time when you were both getting ready for bed, you turned to Abby and broke the silence.

“Hey, I was wondering…”

“What’s up?” Abby responded. The eagerness with which she asked was out of her control.

“I, um, well, do you think you could show me around the gym sometime? I didn’t get to see it when I toured, and it’s so big. I’m honestly kind of intimidated-”

“Yes, yeah,” Abby said.

“Cool,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence passed. Abby’s heart raced with the prospect of getting to talk to you so much. Guide you around and show you the place. But in a second, she thought better of it. She needed to contain herself someway or another.

“Yeah,” Abby continued. “They’ve got a great yoga studio, you know. One has classes and the other one is free for students to use anytime.”

You scoffed. Abby’s face was intentionally blank, waiting to see your reaction.

“Of course,” you said. “Of course, you assume I’d just want to do yoga.”

“I figure you’d want to see it.”

“Okay, well could you just show me the whole gym?”

“Yeah,” Abby said, recoiling from you a bit. She pushed through, wondered if perhaps she could make this worse for herself. Worsening the relationship could force the unwanted thoughts about you to subside entirely. “Sorry. You don’t strike me as a weightlifter.”

You stopped and looked sharply her way.

“Okay. Forget I asked. I’ll find someone else.”

Just like that, another failed attempt at conversation was over. Her self-sabotage felt far less productive than she thought it would feel. All Abby felt was stupid. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Soon she became so scared of her sleeping self, worried that you'd hear her sleep talking your name or, dear god, catch her fucking herself while she dreamt about eating you out in the quiet section of a library. The idea was so mortifying to her that she nearly couldn’t sleep with you in the room at all, which was every night.

She grew anxious, unable to control herself and unable to sleep. Practice became lackluster. Lifting felt ineffectual. Still, she knew she couldn’t let the levee break. She needed respite in any form and, eventually, Abby realized she was desperate.

One day before rugby practice, she texted Nora, a girl Abby fucked on and off for a majority of her freshman year. Abby liked Nora because she was as impersonal about hooking up as Abby was. It was a clean-cut fuck buddy deal she knew she could rely on if she wanted.

The next Thursday, Nora took Abby in like an old friend. She sat her down and opened a bottle of wine, performed the pleasantries of simple conversation, caught up with school and sports and life, and eventually led Abby to the bedroom.

They knew what they were there to do.

In a blur, Abby found her arms wrapped around Nora's lower back as she pressed her face flesh to Nora's chest, guiding her through a sweaty orgasm which seemed satisfactory.

When Nora tried to return the favor, Abby was completely dry.

She had been mentally elsewhere since the moment she knocked on the door.

She played it off as just being out of it, just wanting to please Nora that night. So, Abby haphazardly thanked her for the wine, as it was really the only thing Nora could give Abby that night besides for a spacious bed outside of the dorms, and they went to sleep.

But Abby could only stare up at the ceiling as Nora breathed heavily beside her in a deep sleep.

She decided to walk back to the dorm. It was early and the sun was just starting to light up the sky. You were asleep, and when Abby closed the door, you sprawled out in your bed, strands of hair curled and scattered messily around your face. She watched you sleep for a second, feeling gross and cold and wired. She still couldn’t sleep, so she turned on her desk lamp and read in an attempt to forget her last two or three decisions.

When the sun was finally up, you turned over in your bed and pushed your covers down to your feet, stretching out until your hands hit the headboard. You saw Abby was already up, only reading in bed as you often found her.

“No gym today?” You yawned.

Abby looked over at you and just shook her head.

“You look tired.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Abby said.

You nodded, grabbed your toiletry bag, and left.

Half of Abby convinced herself you knew what she’d been doing the night before, which only made her feel dirtier. Moreover she believed that even if you knew, in agreement with how she wanted to keep things, you were totally indifferent.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Abby’s logic wasn’t flawless. She thought she had been doing all the right things. She fucked it out of her system, as far as she was concerned, so after that she got right back into the swing of her routine. All excess feelings would surely go away. The dreams would stop.

Yet, a week later, it was your face she saw through vertically moving weights, walking through the gym’s hallways that made Abby nearly drop the weights she had raised over her head.

A blonde girl was walking with you. You seemed disinterested.

Her name was Carol and she was another classical guitar major. She was the best in your music theory class and you clung to her when you realized not only was she a talented sight reader but she had the most lifeless and dull nature of anyone you had ever met. She was the exact friend you had hoped to meet.

She had also offered to show you around the gym when you asked. Admittedly, you didn’t need someone to tour guide you through the gym. You just didn’t want to go alone.

Carol talked at you in great detail about the gym’s hours, what kinds of people one might find in certain areas, and how she tried pickleball once but couldn’t stand the instructor’s “overly-excited” approach to teaching.

You zoned out, clutched onto the straps of your backpack, and looked around at the gym. There were so many levels. A big hole in the wall right by the entrance that showcased the basketball courts, two yoga studios hidden around a corner on the second floor, the track that outlined the upper level, and, of course, the massive weightlifting section next to it. You tried to look away from it when Carol walked you past it just in case.

When she had taken you through most of it all, you stopped at the sight of double doors with small windows you could barely see through.

“Is that the pool?” You asked, but you were already walking away by the time Carol could answer.

You gazed eagerly at the swimmers who glided across the lap lanes with ease. There were sounds of whistles and people yelling out times.

“Can anyone swim here or is it just for the swim team?” You asked and no one answered.

You looked briefly behind you. Carol was gone. But, truthfully you didn’t care enough to go after her and continued staring at the splashes and glistening bodies in swimsuits, caps bobbing in and out of the water. The smell of the chlorine was so nostalgic. You let yourself breathe in and out, taking it all in, closing your eyes.

“It's just for the swim team, usually,” a voice said right behind you.

You jumped and turned to see who was inches away from you, closing you into the door behind you.

You exhaled. “Abby.”

“You swim?” She ignored your shock.

“Not, like, for exercise.”

“Hm,” Abby responded. “So, what are you doing here then?”

“Getting the tour I requested.”

“Yeah. From Carol, who’s never actually been here before.”

You momentarily look around for Carol but assume she must have left. You wonder how Abby even knew she was with you.

“Hey, she took a very riveting pickleball class here and has much to say about it,” you said.

Abby smirked and moved from her close proximity to the space next to you. You both stayed there for a moment, just watching.

“She seems like a lot of fun.”

“She is,” you said a bit indignantly.

“I bet,” Abby said. “I had her in my Intro to College course last year. She’s very… organized?”

You sighed, eyes still fixed on the swim team. “Yeah, she’s kind of awful.”

Abby couldn’t contain a laugh and you laughed with her. Out of all your conversations where she seemed to get on every one of your nerves, you were always kind to her. You turned away from the doors and Abby followed alongside as you walked together.

“So,” Abby said, “why are you friends with her then?”

“She’s very smart. She’s nice enough.”

“Your standards for friendship are pretty low. No offense.” Abby swallowed at the thought of you taking offense. Of her taking it too far again. But this time you conceded.

“You could say that. I guess I like laying low.”

“Yeah, I see that. I can’t figure out why though.” You looked up at Abby to see if she’s fucking with you again but she looked genuine. It softened you. “I think you’re cool.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking from her to the floor again. “I just…I’ve had my fill of shitty friends before. I figure Carol is the boring kind of shitty and not the ‘ruin your life’ kind of shitty.”

“Christ,” Abby said. “I get that though.”

You looked at her to call bullshit.

“No, really,” she continued. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve realized someone I considered a best friend was actually totally fucking awful, I’d have, like…”

“Too many dimes?”

You smile. Abby smiled at having made you smile.

“Too many fucking dimes,” Abby agreed and lingered on you, this laugh of yours in particular said, that’s so stupid, but you smiled anyway. She looked away and nervously stroked her neck. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about what I said before. I see you lug, like, four guitars between classes everyday, so I had no right to say what I did, about me not taking you for a weightlifter. That was stupid.”

Abby’s breath got caught in her words. There was something about her that always made you sympathetic and made the corners of your mouth perk up. She went on.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Which… that’s my fault. If you ever want to hang out, though, outside of the dorm-”

But your eyes tore from her and were suddenly down the hall, staring at a gaggle of girls talking to one of the front desk student workers. Your face went sullen and your body stunned. Abby tried to follow your gaze.

You went into a panic and your eyes darted around until they landed on Abby again.

“I have to go,” you suddenly said. You swung around to Abby, seemingly hiding your face from them.

“Oh- sorry, did I-”

“But thanks for saying that. Yeah, we should,” you said, and Abby could sense your urgency to leave. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Abby couldn’t hide her surprise. And pleasure. “Yes. Yeah,” she coughed. “Sure.”

“It’s a Valentine's Day party. I know it’s early in the month for that, but, yeah, Carol invited me and it seems like it might be fun, I sort of want to go but I don’t really want to go with…”

“Oh, yeah, no, fuck Carol. I’m down.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes opened brightly, at her and then anxiously to the doors behind you. “Okay, that’s great, amazing. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you.”

And you were out the door. Abby noticed your head slightly turn away from the girls at the front desk.

Abby’s eyes were wide. She let out a big breath and smiled to herself as she walked back to the weights. Yet, Abby found herself counting past her normal ten reps, so consumed by her thoughts that she couldn’t feel her muscles burning. Perhaps it was the moment you invited her to the party that Abby’s grand idea to repress her feelings had gone out the window. Maybe it was when you confided in her, in what small way it was, or the way you laughed at her being a smart ass that made her abandon the boundary she set for herself. Or, possibly, in the moments she spent watching you watch the swim team, Abby realized something she quietly knew since the day she met you: she couldn’t exercise or fuck her way out of this.

Even if it all was to just be your friend, which she was slowly accepting it would be, it would be worth it to die on that hill. She would let herself die on that hill. Even if it broke her heart and you never were any the wiser. What else could she do? Abby had been a lost cause from the start.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

In a glance, Abby’s memories stop short. She feels the same sense of hopefulness she did in her memory so she chooses not to reminisce further. Not when things feel so simple and good again.

It was hard enough for Abby to look you in the eyes. Every time she did, she felt like she was reading a book and your pages were turning so fast it made her dizzy. It’s how she feels as you ask again:

“You coming?”

You’re half turned to face Abby on the pool’s edge with a hand outstretched to her and anticipation in your eyes.

She comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she's like a rainbow...

As if at peace with the restlessness you gave her, she looks over to you sweetly, cracking a girlish smile and releasing her hair from its braid.

“I’m not waiting for you!” You sing out. “Three! Two!”

Abby runs and cannonballs into the pool.

A second later, Abby feels you explode into the water next to her and opens her eyes. The chlorine stings but she sees you clearly. The deep blue glow surrounds your body as you cascade through the water. Your eyes are squeezed shut drawing little lines of sunshine on the sides of your face, bubbles of air fluttering around you, escaping to the surface.

Abby follows you up until you both find air. Two heads bobbing up and down. The noise of splashing calms. It’s just you and her. Both bodies are tensely aware of that fact.

You hide the bottom half of your face in the water, looking away from Abby nervously. You can sense her eyes on you. It makes you freeze. The familiar heat runs up your neck.

“Stop it.”

She shrugs, indecipherably.

“Okay,” she says.

But Abby doesn’t change a thing.

It all festers on your face.

You take a breath and plunge down until water surrounds you completely, until you’ve held your breath so long that your heart beats louder than your thoughts, slowly and finally drowning them out.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot @r3starttt @lez-zuha @seraphicsentences @vancexplicit @iamaboringrattat @iprefermountainsoverthesea @maybeidohaveadhd @fortune777 @umfiodeprata @x-ani @emothurman @colbyweirdo @backstrom69 @kisssssessssssyj @aylabv02108 @vic-likes-flowers @giuliaexe66 @sapphicontherun @nellkaida @i-feel-violated @grey-jedi12 @stickynachomaker @letmesleep8 @ravyaryn @punkwrld

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

#abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby tlou #the last of us part 2 #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #lesbian #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson playlist #abby x reader #the last of us

174 notes · View notes

namikawa · 5 months ago

Text

— [the perfect host]

featuring: s. geto, s. gojo

cw: smut, implied threesome, cunnulingus, implied m/m, phone sex (?), daddy kink (ofc), established relationship (reader & gojo), fingering, fem reader, chubby reader, getting “caught” masturbating, use of the word cunt (sorry lol), aftercare, not proofread fr, anything else i forgot lolz, pet names (mama, baby, pretty, sweetheart, love). wc: n/a.

notes: this is actually a fic my friend wrote (never published) & i re did it with two diff characters & finished it for her cause she never did… so if yall like it GO TO HER BLOG ILL TAG HER. this wasn’t my og idea i just wrote the smut and tweaked & added. but enjoy pls, sorry i haven’t posted in so long life has beat me up. @nvmjccnluv !!!

“so explain to me why i’m watching her again, she seems completely capable of staying in your apartment alone yknow.” suguru questions over the phone. it’s not that he hates you, but what if he was busy? he wasn’t, but gojo didn’t need to know that, he didn’t even ask to be fair. quickly dropping you off after handing the long haired man a small bag of your things.

on the other end of the phone gojo lets out a huff of laughter. “had a few things to finish up, she gets too lonely when i leave her at home so i didn’t want her getting into things. you know how it is.”

“i actually don’t, but okay man.”

“anyway, she doesn’t like many people but she didn’t seem to mind you the last time we hung out, you seemed like a safe option.” gojo continues, sounding a bit strained.

“okay, whatever, fine.”

“where’s she at anyways? if she was with you she would’ve jumped your bones to get to the phone.”

walking toward the the closed door in the hallway, geto chuckles before reassuring his friend. “relax dude, she’s in the room taking a na- holy shit.”

“what happened??”

the dark haired man places his ear on the door to make sure he’s not hallucinating, not saying that he’s hoping to be.

muffled moans greet his ears, but not muffled enough evidently. no, you wanted him to hear. he would have to pass by your room anyways, given that you two would be sharing a wall for the night. but him being on the phone with your boyfriend was just a coincidence, an extremely embarrassing one.

he listens to your soft whines and high pitched whimpers for what feels like days, though its hasn’t even been half a minute, paying no mind to the man yelling at him on the phone.

“SUGURU? ANSWER ME! IS SHE OKAY? I SWEAR IF SOMETHING HAPPE-” at this point geto tries to think as hard as possible to come up with a lie that won’t get him killed by his friend.

snapping out of his daze, he finally gets enough courage to respond, “yeah um i’m pretty sure, maybe i’m wrong, i think she’s uh masturbating.”

“oh, oh okay” suguru can basically hear a smirk he knows all to well forming on gojos mouth. “don’t be a rude host, go help her out man.”

what the fuck is he talking about help you out? he can’t be understanding that this is his girlfriend he’s talking about, right? on top of that, shouldn’t he be asking you for consent as well.

“are you insane man? i know you’re into all that weird shit, but her? she’d probably kill me before i even got close to the bed and throw my dead body out of my own apartment.” as nice as it sounds he didn’t know if you’d be okay with any of this. he wasn’t going to just walk straight in, right?

there’s a loud howl that comes directly from the other end of the phone. “are you really being this much of a pussy right now? i’m giving you full permission to go help my girl out, and you wanna whine about how she might kill y-”

“shut the hell up man, i didn’t say anything about being a pussy.”

“alright, then there shouldn’t be an issue with you helping her out. don’t sit up on your high horse and act like you haven’t thought about it before, i know just how those perverted thoughts of yours work, don’t you rememb-”

“okay okay shut up satoru, im going.”

pushing open the door, the first thing geto notices is your hand rubbing lightly between your soft thighs and how your wetness soaks the bed, clear evidence of how needy you were. how long have you been at it?

gojo can hear you so clearly over the phone, he might as well be in the room with you, “shit, is that her pussy i’m hearing? whats it look like?” he questions, but unfortunately for him he receives no answer.

suguru is too busy enjoying the view and listening to the pathetic little sounds coming from your cunt. his sweatpants are slowly starting to fit a little tighter than before, but he doesn’t make any movements yet, just in case you don’t wanna play this little game.

almost immediately your soft eyes flutter open and lock into his, and he swears he just came in his pants.

“sugi, please, it hurts so much,” you whine out to him, desperate for his veiny hands on you. your own hand never seems to falter though, only moving in more erratic circles around your sensitive clit; while your other hand is busy touching your nipples, trying to get the most stimulation possible.

knowing that you were just as needy for him as he was for you made the man’s confidence peak. he gives you a light smile as he walks closer to the bed, softly sitting down next to you. he leans over you a bit, close enough to where you can smell the minty, almost overpowering, scent of his shampoo. half his hair loosely tied up in a bun, the other half falling past his shoulders as he looks down at you.

“something wrong, pretty? those fingers not doing enough for you, right? don’t ‘cha wanna wait for your boyfriend to come back so he can help you out, he’s on the phone you know.”

his soft hands begin to work at your thighs, but it seems like it’ll never be any more than that. continuing for a little longer, he presses the speaker button on his phone, handing it over to you as you pull away from your core.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” gojo asks, now finally getting some time to speak to you after being ignored for so long. “i gave sugi permission to help you out, okay? does that sound alright to you?” he utilizes the small nickname you’d given his friend, innocently coercing you to be good.

you give a small “mmm” in agreement. then, opening your legs, you grab at suguru’s hand and place it between your thighs, just barely touching your cunt.

gojo continues, smiling to himself on the other side of the device. “‘kay. i’m gonna talk you through it, just so i know you’re treating my girl right. take two of your fingers and stuff it inside of her, she’ll clench up at first but just keep working at it and she’ll open up, okay? maybe if you do good, you can have something too.”

geto lets out an annoyed breath, short, but just long enough for gojo to catch it. he knows what that means. what’s even stopping him from fucking you in first place? it’s not like gojo would know. but as he looks into your pleading eyes he realizes he’d do anything to make sure you’re content and happy.. even if that means listening to satoru’s perverted requests.

his fingers slide down to rub at your clit just a bit, before burying his pointer and ring finger deep into your cunt, you clench so tight around him, it makes him feel like he’s dreaming the way your teeth suck at your bottom lip attempting to hide your whines.

“cmon pretty, open up for me. promise i’ll make you feel good, okay?”

a throaty whimper slides from between your lips as geto’s fingers work you open. “‘s good sugi, please like that more.” you scoot down a little more, chasing his fingers to get even just a little more stimulation.

“next you’re gonna press on her clit, just a little though she’s a sensitive little thing.” gojo groans out, it’s obvious he’s taken a break from his work to focus on… other things.

“yeah yeah, i know how to use my fingers, asshole.” suguru voices, clearly annoyed. although, he still abides by the instructions and moves his thumb to press on your clit just a tiny bit. your back arches away from his fingers almost immediately, like a natural instinct, he grabs your plush hips with his other hand, pulling you back down. “nuh uh, c’mere sweet girl, you wanted my help you’re gonna get it.”

his delicate fingers curve upward into you and you feel as if you’re floating on cloud nine, the way he flicks them at just the right speed while managing to hold you down and deepen his movements. it’s all too much for him you.

the sound of gojo’s voice breaks geto out of his daze, “fuck, i gotta go suguru. i know you’ll take care of her. i’m gonna have to cut this shit short, i’ll try to come back later tonight instead of tomorrow morning. love you guys, love you baby, be good for sugi okay?” geto’s eyes immediately flicker to yours, and you see just a little bit of what you think could be fear, or excitement, in his eyes.

“bye daddy, love you too.” you whine out, hearing a quick click before the call ends.

“daddy?” he questions. “knew he was into some shit, didn’t know you were too, sweet girl. you’re too pretty and innocent, or at least you put up a good act.” his fingers slide out of you as he snickers, not ignoring the way you pout at the loss of stimuli.

“nah, not gonna leave you here all needy don’t worry mama, just gonna do it my way, that sound good to you?” geto grabs you by your hips as you choke out a small “yea”, pushing you closer to the headboard of the bed. he fully removes his hair tie and throws all of it up into a bun, swiftly grabbing your underwear and pulling it off.

you look down at him as he crawls closer to you on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and closing them around his head. you feel his fingers spread your cunt apart, licking a long stripe onto you. your body tenses up, and on instinct your hand finds its way into suguru’s hair, tugging lightly. his head perks up at you, smiling, but eventually just deciding to leave you be.

his tongue swipes over your clit, taking small breaths occasionally as he tastes your cunt. neither one of you know who this is really for at this point. he’s supposed to be ‘helping you’ but with the tent growing in his sweats he might as well be doing this for his own pleasure instead. you continue to take harsh pulls at his dark strands, so unfamiliar to you. mostly with satoru you opted for scratching at his shoulders or gripping at the sheets due to the length he kept his hair, but this, this was something you could get used to.

“sugi please, m so close, want it so bad, need you to make me cum.” you cry out, loving the way his nose rubs against your clit as he licks.

he doesn’t say anything, he can’t really, but you know he understands. he grips your thighs tighter, licking the same way as before, occasionally sucking at your clit, and before you know it you’re squirming all over his face as that familiar feeling rushes over you.

the only thing that suguru could make out of your cries were “thank you”, “so good”, and “daddy”? he wasn’t sure if you were calling him daddy or if you wanted gojo, but at this point it didn’t really matter to him. he pleased you and that’s all he needed to make him feel better.

as he lifted his head up from your pussy he could already tell how tired you were getting, he immediately grabbed you a change of clothes that gojo had packed and cleaned you up with a wet washcloth. “everything okay, mama? need anything?” your eyes strain open and you smile at the man standing above you, “i’m okay, thank you for your help. will you stay?” you could tell that he genuinely cared for you, and was worried he had done something wrong by the tone in his voice. him staying was more for him rather than yourself, not that you were complaining.

he pulled off his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you. grabbing his phone from the bedside table he saw that gojo had sent him a message.

“i’ll take care of you both when i’m back, cause i’m betting you didn’t take anything for yourself. see you both soon ;)”

suguru chuckled to himself at the message from his friend, looking down at you peacefully sleeping on his chest. maybe he could get used to something like this? but for now, he’s content.

#satosugu #gojo satoru #gojo saturo smut #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #✉️#getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto fluff #gojo fluff

384 notes · View notes

pigeonxp · 13 days ago

Text

ok now that bt is FINALLY bones, all i really have to say is fuck yall for real. there are some of yall that arent that bad, but the overwhelming majority of you guys are actually fucking awful. i have had twitter mutuals be harassed by yall, i have had friends harassed, ive seen people i dont even follow being called horrific things and insulting their appearances, and so so much more. one thing that really sticks out is the blatant misogyny that some of you guys present. the amount of men that have gone online and confidently called women bitches and sluts and whores and cunts and hoes is genuinely fucking deranged, and i hope you all know that. there have been bt stans in my replies and my inbox and in my business, telling me that IM in the wrong for stating my opinions on the weird ass shit theyve been doing, telling me that they "dont feel welcome" in this fandom, and that they feel like this fandom is toxic and etc etc etc etc I DONT CARE BRO. i have said it once and ill say it again and again. some of you guys are just not meant to be in fandom spaces. there are block buttons for a reason. you can block people and tags and literally everything under the sun but you continue to SEEK OUT shit that makes you mad or that you dont agree with just so you can hate on the OPs in their replies. you dont seem to understand that people can have opinions on what characters they like and what ships they enjoy, and that other people have the right to criticize them. i am NOT sorry and i will NOT apologize for how i may have reacted. i do NOT feel bad for you. we all told you that this wasnt going to last, the showeunner said it wasnt going to last. the ACTOR said it wasnt going to last. and instead of using critical thinking skills and media literacy training, you got tattoos for this ship, you spent hundreds of dollars on cameos from a nepo baby, and you spent days of your lives hating on and harassing people over a FICTIONAL TV SHOW. instead of being upset at LFJR for leading yall on, you attacked oliver stark for being "biphobic"??@?!?!??!!??!÷*×(!&×,@ for having an opinion on his own character, especially after he spent time becoming genuinely one of the biggest bisexual allies i have ever seen. after he told reporters that he was planning on playing buck as bi anyway, after he made post after post saying how excited he was for bucks storyline, and after he advocated for this character he loves so dearly. you jumped down his throat for no reason. i have absolutely no sympathy for you. i really do hope you follow lfjr back to SWAT and i truly hope he gets every single line and every single scene just to keep him off of my fucking screen. 🫶

#finally comes the time where i make an incredibly long incredibly incoherent rant about bucktommys #not all of yall are bad but all i have had is bad experiences with you guys.#also im saying ostark is a bisexual ally bc im NOT going to rpf in this post...maybe later as a treat #FUCK lfjr #FUCK bucktommy #and FUCK TOMMY KINARD.#911 abc #anti tommy kinard #anti bucktommy #if ur pro bt DO NOT reply to this i do not want to hear ur opinions idc idc idc #idc if youre “one of the good ones” i dont care if buddies have harassed you (right now) i really dont want to hear it #obviously there are bad buddies too. this isnt about them #this is about how me but ESPECIALLY my friends and the people i follow have been treated recently.#buddie #THE END

89 notes · View notes

imtomiee · 2 months ago

Text

We need baddies in lookism cause the baddiest bitch that stepped in was ms kim and she STILL has that baby innocent face combo

Love her sm but where is the lethal face? 🤨

The men are having a mog off and the girls legit look like peppa pig characters

Fuck ptj im making one and if she passes the test I'll post her 🤷‍♀️ yall do your owns and tag me

#lookism #lookism webtoon

83 notes · View notes

hobiespick · 5 months ago

Text

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it. - "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #spn #jared padalecki #spnfandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #spn headcanons #Sam winchester is so boyfriend l ahshsgshhs #bobby singer #sam winchester fluff

115 notes · View notes

thatlotuscookie · 28 days ago

Note

hellooo👋👋 could you just write something for dabi and reader, just something that involves him giving reader backhugs. you can add anything you want to it. i just need a hug🤕

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hiii thank you for requesting! sorry for the wait. i have been a bit busy the past few days but im hoping that ill be able to get yalls requests done faster since its the weekend! enjoy<3 and i hope you feel better after reading this, anon. hang in there, you're doing great! you can always vent in my askbox if needed<3

✧ Title: ✧ Silent Embrace ✧ ✧ Character: Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Dabi isn’t one for words, but when he finds himself wrapped around you in the quiet, there’s no need for them. He lets his guard down, revealing the warmth he usually hides. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Cuddling, Established Relationship ✧ WC: 1002 words // 5.6k characters

The room is dim and quiet, the sort of silence that feels heavy with unspoken things. You’re lost in your own thoughts, hardly aware of anything around you, when you feel a presence just behind. You don’t hear his footsteps—they’re soft, almost silent—but the door creaks ever so slightly, announcing his arrival.

Dabi’s there, standing close but still holding himself back, like he’s not sure if he should cross that last step. You catch his reflection in the faintly tinted window in front of you, and it makes your heart skip. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between distant and thoughtful, like he’s warring with something inside. Before you can fully turn to him, you feel his hands brush over your shoulders, drifting down with the barest pressure, and then his fingers spread across your waist, pulling you toward him in one smooth, decisive motion.

He’s careful but firm, like he’s finally decided there’s no reason to hesitate. The contact is warm, surprising you with its gentleness, his hands slipping around your waist and linking just above your stomach. His breath brushes against your ear, warm and steady, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. There’s an ease to it, but you can tell he’s still tense beneath the surface, his fingers curling just a bit, testing his own grip, making sure it’s real.

“Needed a break,” he mutters, a little hoarsely, as if that explains why he’s standing here, arms wrapped around you in an embrace that feels both foreign and oddly natural for him.

His hands shift slightly, thumbs brushing in slow, aimless circles against your waist. You’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it, but there’s something mesmerizing in the quiet rhythm. The way his fingers occasionally graze your sides, the warmth seeping through your clothes, feels like a secret he’s letting you in on—some part of him he doesn’t show anyone else. It’s like he’s telling you something in silence, his words unspoken, his expression hidden against your shoulder.

You start to lean back into him, letting your head rest against his collarbone, surrendering to the quiet comfort of his hold. Dabi lets out a breath, one that seems to release some of the tension in his body as he relaxes further into the embrace. You feel his chin nudge down a bit as his head drifts, his forehead now resting gently against your shoulder. He’s steady, unhurried, his fingers tracing slow, reassuring patterns that make you feel like he’s grounding himself as much as you.

For a while, it’s just the two of you in this space, his arms wrapped around you in a protective circle. You can feel his heartbeat, a slow and calming pulse against your back, and it’s oddly soothing. He tightens his hold every now and then, almost like he’s afraid to let go, a silent admission that he finds as much comfort in this as you do.

Minutes pass, and the silence deepens. He shifts his head, his forehead brushing your shoulder before nestling his face into the curve of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you feel the warmth of his breath, slow and even, ghosting over your collar. His grip loosens just a little, his arms settling into an easier hold as if he’s melting into you, and for a moment, you’re not even sure if he’s awake.

It’s in that quiet moment that you feel his breathing become deeper, each exhale warmer and more languid as he rests against you, his weight leaning just enough to let you know he’s drifting off, surrendering to the softness he doesn’t usually allow himself. His hold tightens one last time, and you hear him mumble something unintelligible, a soft sound against your neck as he nuzzles closer, unwittingly snuggling in.

You’re holding him up, bearing his weight in a way that feels intimate and right, and as he sighs, you can tell he’s truly comfortable, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him. His breaths deepen as he falls into a light sleep, his body heavy but reassuringly close, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his warmth.

It’s only when he stirs, his eyes fluttering open slightly, that he realizes how close he’s gotten, his head still resting against you, his arms locked around your waist. For a moment, his eyes meet yours in the window’s reflection, and you catch that rare, unguarded look—almost like he’s not fully awake yet. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets out a soft chuckle, still a little dazed, and buries his face back into your shoulder, clearly unbothered by how vulnerable he looks.

“Guess I got too comfortable,” he murmurs, voice husky and amused, though he makes no move to let go. There’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, a look so genuine it catches you off guard.

Then, after a moment, he lifts his head just enough to press a light, almost tentative kiss to your shoulder. It’s soft, a wordless confession that lingers in the air between you, and before you can say anything, he steps back slightly, though his arms stay firmly around you.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, his voice still thick from sleep as he takes your hand in his, leading you with that same soft but steady grip toward his room. You don’t resist, letting him guide you, feeling the warmth of his hand enveloping yours. When you both settle on the bed, he pulls you close once more, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking you into his chest.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as his hand rests on your back, tracing lazy circles that lull you both into a quiet, peaceful state. His heartbeat, slow and steady, thumps in your ear, and the last thing you hear before drifting off is the soft murmur of his voice, promising to hold you close for as long as you’ll let him.

49 notes · View notes