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midnite-c6 · 3 days ago

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Can you write Namgyu with a kink for humiliating you? I just know this man is a sadist with the way he’s so mean.

It can be making you cry, making you lick his shoes clean, suck his fingers, spitting in your mouth & making you swallow! All while cruelly insulting you calling you a cunt and a bitch.

He loves to embarrass you! You’re just his personal stress-toy in these stressful games <3

(Love your work btw!!!)🎀

holy fuckfbk nam-gyu will always be my fav , hes such a sadist HES SUCH A SADIST you'll be crying and everything literally making such a mess and he'd be staring at you like this: 🫤 guys i got a good twitter vid for this one (i made reader a bit a bimbo im sry💔)

sadist!nam-gyu x reader <3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, SMUT!!, humiliation kink, knifeplay, humping shoes ❤️‍🩹, twitter link, dubcon, orgasm denial, death threats (1), degradation, voyeurism, pwp

つ⁠｡⁠☆ when you'd meet at the games, he just immediately sees how fuckable you are. you were bickering him about the stupidest things, he was angry, how you almost lost them the six-legged race, of course you'd defend yourself. without any class, he'd spit on you, out of 'anger'. obviously he only wants to test how you'd respond, the games were getting boring, he needs to release some tension. "fucking swallow, bitch. you'll do that, right?" he says, like it's second nature, it was your first time literally getting spat on! it felt so weird! you'd swallow full of shame, looking him in the eye. "fucking-" his dick would twitch from the sight, like he was taking your virginity. "bitch, you tryna' tease me?" it's like he didn't expect you to do as he says. you were actually so submissive it makes him cry. it makes his dick cry, definitely.

he's probably the type of guy to jerk off right in front of you. he invited you to come and eat with him and his other allies, saying how it's much more safer with a team rather than being alone, but once you finished your lunch and everyone's going somewhere else, nam-gyu shamelessly moves his hands past the waistband of his pants, it makes you panic, scared, and clueless, -- you don't know what to do, the good person in you says to help him :( and you do, offering your hand, tilting your head and asking "do .. do you need me?" nam-gyu knew he is never gonna get enough of you. ever. he scoffs, he was about to bust a nut right there, "don't fucking assume, cunt." but you just wanted to help him :( he swears you knew what you were doing. "do you even have a brain?" you'd freeze, and he removes his hand under his pants to pull your hair to face his groin. "i'm sure you know how to suck. so suck." he doesn't give you any time to think before pushing your head to his clothed dick, making your squirms muffled against his hard-on. "mmph- m-mister-" your drool staining his pants, "take my pants off, duh. are you genuinely stupid?"

now you were forced to take on his dick, because of your 'volunteer' spirit. atleast he was a bit nice about it though.. i mean he did take it slow until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat, after that, it's a different story. "you sick little freak. you offer your services to any person with a cock?" is what you'd hear, and the 'glug glug glug' sound of your throat. "no decent woman would offer herself when she sees a man jerking it." you were taking him in so well, and he was conversing like it was a normal day. "you. are. a. fucking. freak." he'd pull you away from his dick, "answer me, you're a whore aren't you?" he tugs, "what are you?" "a whore..." you whimper. he just laughs, shoving right back into your mouth.

everything was too fast D: you'd swear other men were looking. no they definitely were. probably even stroking their own dicks while watching. player 124 was so lucky.

even after that, your throat was sore, making you unable to speak, it wasn't like you were much of a talker in the first place. you'd stay by him though, even if you could hear nam-gyu tell his experience about you to thanos, saying how 'mediocre' you were. that hurts.. :(

つ⁠｡⁠☆ outside of the games ->

you were probably someone who absolutely loves the idea of 'making love', he'd just absolutely break that ideology in half. :/ you guys wouldn't have met in the club, he probably met you in a dating app. he made himself such a presentable person, deeming himself as a family man raised by his grandmother who loves owning pets, long walks on the beach, cooking for his girl, all that stuff. of course you'd fall in love. your second date was cooking with him, he finds it cute how clumsy you are with the knife, he chuckles, playfully teasing: "you're such a cute dummy." getting behind you, putting his arms on top of yours as he guides you on how to safely cut vegetables. he's such a sweetie.

but.. when he has that knife pressed right to your throat, thankfully not cutting you, his body caging yours on the counter, your back pressed against his chest. whispering, "you're such a dumb bitch, who the fuck believes shit from people who work at the club?" he did have a point, he said he was a club promoter right off the bat, but your view of him did a full 180⁰ real quick.

pushing your pants down, he presses the handle of the knife right in between your legs, making a soft moan escape your lips, how could he think you don't like this?

the knife goes back to your neck, as his other hand was deeply shoving his fingers against your leaking pussy, "you can't cum, alright? m'not afraid to slash your neck." he threatens, he curls his fingers at the same time, how were you gonna survive.??

now when you're trembling right infront of him, he'd stop all forms of physical touch, getting away from you, you'd fall to the ground, mostly because of your legs shaking, and how the knife infront of your throat blocked you from doing any movements. "please, let me cum, please, i've been good..!" you begged, looking up at him. his eyes darkened even more at the sight, you were so desperate, it was hot. "fine. spread your legs."

(this video) <- twt link ^o^

he presses the insides of your thighs to fully spread them wide open. nudging the tip of his shoes on your clit, the friction was good enough </3.

"you're an embarrassment to women, jeez, you're fucking gonna cum from this." he always seems so mad. you shake your head, you're better than this, you swear. he only chuckles from how you're trying to defend yourself, pressing your thighs together as if to close them, you still wanted that sweet release :( " pfft. stop trying to deny it, i'm not gonna let you cum unless you become a worthless whore for me," fuck it, you were desperate, you'd cum from anything at this point. erasing any self dignity, you spread your legs again. props to you, despite his mean nature, he was gonna cum from the sight.

lastly, in a group setting, you know he is the biggest boot-licker when it's with his friends at the club, always wanting to impress them and shit, showing how you're his prized possession! he'll make you hang out with his friends, the purple-haired one included, all doing lines and taking puffs of weed, as he "sweetly" guides you to grind on his thigh. saying how: "nobody's gonna notice, they're too high to notice you being so pathetic." and you whine, tears in your eyes because you feel so embarrassed and vulnerable :<, hearing his other friends laugh, you could only hide your face in the crook of nam-gyu's neck. he'd pull on your hair to get you to look at him eye to eye, "you wanted this didn't you? you're asking for it all the time, why not now?" his words are so condescending, it didn't help how your clit is sweetly nudging against the wrinkles of his pants, sometimes you'd even move a bit higher to feel the bulkiness of his belt. or even the tent in his pants in general, but he'll immediately lift you up, because he doesn't wanna give you the satisfaction that he's aroused too!

he's such a perfect guy, you love him. you do. if you actually do, sucks to suck, he thinks you're fucking pathetic.

subby nam-gyu soon? (and kim seowan) prolly will do a few asks, too busy for all this stuff i need sleep! also, guys i love the dark asks, keep them goinnnnnnnnn🥲

#squid game 2 #squid game #nam-gyu #player 124 #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #nam gyu #namgyu #nam-gyu x reader #nam-gyu smut #nam gyu smut #nam gyu x reader #squid game imagine #squid game spoilers

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sarcasticallyexplicit11 · 3 days ago

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The sun was beating down as Darry wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. It was the hottest day on record in Tulsa—a whole 115 degrees—and Darry was standing on the roof of some soc’s house, helping bring up bundles of roofing.

There was two hours left in his shift and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it if the throbbing behind his right eye had anything to say about it.

The lunch Darry had barely been able to choke was threatening to come back up any second, and it took all of his willpower not to let it. Crawling down the ladder, he could feel his resolve beginning to crack as the sunlight pierced his eyes. An involuntary shudder ran through his body causing him to stumble. The throbbing behind his eye gained traction and was now accompanied by dancing lights in his vision and a pounding in his temples.

Darry winced and grabbed onto the side of the house to keep him upright. His vision swam, and he used the last of his strength to make his way as gracefully as he could to the front porch, where his water was. With sheer luck, he made it just as he collapsed.

In his pain-induced delirium, Darry didn’t notice his boss talking to another one of his coworkers in front of the porch. And he didn’t notice he was trying to get his attention either. “Darrel? You alright kid?”

Darry looked up to see his boss in front of him, crouching down so they were at eye level. He took a swig of water and willed his mouth to work. “I’m alright,” he responded, “just got too hot. I’ll be back to work in a second.”

His boss, George, narrowed his eyes at him. Darry’s vision was blurred, creating three images of George standing up and towering over him. The nausea he had controlled for the past hour was threatening to take over, and the world seemed to swirl around him.

George sighed and put his hand on Darry’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “You ain’t looking so good Curtis, why don’t you head on home?” Darry almost wanted to cry. He wanted to go home so bad but he couldn’t miss out on even two hours of pay and he didn’t want to leave his coworkers to the rest of the work. George seemed to sense his unease because he followed up his statement with, “you’ll get the full day of pay, don’t ya worry.”

Darry swallowed hard and nodded his head, which only angered the raging pain there. He heaved himself up, and the floor seemed to tilt below him. He would’ve collapsed to the ground if George and his coworker hadn’t grabbed his arms and held him up. Darry thought he heard his coworker saying something but everything sounded underwater. “Easy kid,” his boss whispered to him.

“I’m okay, ‘ust dizzy for a second,” Darry responded, hoping his answer would satisfy them. He bent down and grabbed his stuff, then headed off to his truck.

The drive home took longer than it should’ve, with Darry having to pull over twice to get his vision right or to swallow down the nausea that had begun to creep up once again.

By the time he got home, Darry was ready to collapse into bed and not think about anything for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, he still had to cook dinner and finish the laundry and vacuum the living room an-

Somewhere between pulling into the driveway and the thoughts of everything he had to do beginning to spiral, a gag crept up his throat. Darry slapped a hand over his mouth and opened the door to his truck, intending to make it inside. His body had other plans though. As soon as the door opened, vomit was splattering onto the ground below him.

Taking a deep breath, Darry wiped his mouth and hopped out of his truck, which sent a jolt of pain up his spine and through his head. He stumbled into the house, dropping his keys on the table next to the door. Ponyboy was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while Soda and Steve were in the living room arguing about who knows what.

Soda perks his head up before being tackled back down to the ground by Steve. “You’re home early,” Ponyboy said without even looking up from his work.

The sunlight streaming in through the blinds burned into Darry’s eyes and closed them tight in a feeble attempt to lessen the pain coursing through his skull. He opened them again, this time in a squint, to both his brothers and Steve staring at him like he’d grown three heads. “Gotta ‘igraine, gonna lie down.” Darry’s own voice was nails on a chalkboard to him, and he held back a flinch. The room felt tense because everyone knew that a migraine was one of the only things that could knock Superman on his ass.

Soda shot up and moved over to Darry, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Close your eyes, I’ll get ya to bed.” Darry almost cried with relief when he was graced with darkness. Soda and Darry moved slowly toward his bedroom, each step sending lighting shocks of pain through Darry’s head.

After what felt like an eternity, Soda helped Darry onto his bed, bending down to take his work boots off. His bed had never seemed so inviting before in his life like it did right now. He went to lie down before Soda stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, making him let out an involuntary whine. “I know you’re hurting but let me grab you some water and an aspirin before you get comfortable.” Darry opened his eyes, which were glossy with unshed tears.

Soda rubbed his shoulder with sympathy before leaving the room. A whole year could’ve passed before Soda returned with a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a wet cloth. Darry smiled and reached a hand out to place it on Soda’s arm. Or he would have if he didn’t miss it, as if his fingers didn’t belong to him. A small, sad smile crossed Soda’s face before he set down the water on the bedside table and poured two aspirin in his hand.

“Take these then get yourself lying down.” Darry grabbed the aspirin and the water, swallowing them with a small gag. He laid down on the bed and Soda draped the cool cloth over his eyes, causing him to let out a heavy sigh. “That feel good?” Darry hummed out a noise of contentment and snuggled down into the covers. Soda ran his fingers through Darry’s hair, which had Darry teetering on the edge of sleep.

Then Soda started to hum, and it was almost like a switch flipped in Darry’s brain, and he was drifting off into a restless slumber.

______

The next morning, Darry was woken up by the blaring of his alarm. Despite his hope that the migraine would be gone with sleep, the ice pick stabbing into his eye socket persisted. Darry slammed his hand on his alarm clock and slowly sat up. The change in his center of gravity had him reeling, vomit attempting to claw its way up his throat.

There was no way he was gonna be able to work today. This meant he had to call his boss. Which meant he had to stand up and walk without collapsing straight down to the floor.

Using as much energy as he could muster, Darry pushed himself up, leaning on his bedside table for support. He could hear his brothers in the living room, presumably getting ready for their respective days. Despite the ground swaying beneath him, Darry put one foot in front of the other until he reached his door. Sheer determination kept him upright as he opened the door and stepped out into the brightness of the living room, causing him to shield his eyes away from the piercing morning sun.

Soda and Ponyboy must have seen him because within seconds Soda was at his side, coaxing him to sit down on the couch and the blinds were closed. “I take it you’re not feeling better,” Soda asks. Darry shook his head, only to wince as his brain rattled in his skull.

Hands appeared on his shoulders and began massaging the tension out of them, and Darry let out a heavy sigh. “No, and I gotta call my boss and tell ‘im I ain’t coming in.” He hadn’t noticed that Pony had gone to the kitchen until a glass of water was pressed into his hand. Darry took small sips, not wanting to tempt his stomach to rebel.

“I’ll call him for you,” Ponyboy said from his new spot behind the couch. Darry wanted to argue and say he could do it, that he didn’t need help. But the warm hands that were now rubbing his neck were turning him into putty.

“Thanks little colt.” Pony smiled and made his way to the phone. Soda and Darry could hear him from their spots on the couch. He sounded older than he ever had, almost as if he was trying to imitate Darry. Darry could feel a small smile creeping up on his face at how grown-up his little brother was getting.

The characteristic sound of the phone hanging up rang through the house, and Ponyboy appeared back behind the couch. “George said his wife gets migraines so he understands and to not come back until you feel better.” He rounded the couch and plopped down next to Darry, a giddy grin on his face.

Soda stopped rubbing Darry’s neck and shoulders, and a wave of disappointment wash over him until his body was being pulled down into Soda’s lap. The hands that were once on his shoulders now snaked their way into his hair, nimble fingers rubbing his temples. “Aw hell Pepsi, you’re gonna put me to sleep doing all that.” Soda laughed quietly and continued his ministrations. Darry felt his legs being lifted and set down into a pajama-pant-clad lap.

“You look miserable big brother, just go back to sleep.” And well, Darry couldn’t argue with that. Between Soda playing with his hair and Pony absentmindedly rubbing his calves, he didn’t stand a chance at trying to stay awake. The last thing he heard was Pony’s soft voice reading something out of a book he must’ve had on the coffee table.

_____

The migraine didn’t let up for three days, leaving Darry writhing in agony. Soda almost wanted to take him to the hospital, but they both knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

Finally, on the fourth day, Darry woke up without a white-hot searing pain in his skull. His muscles still screamed in protest as he got up, but it was bearable enough that he could get ready for work. He pulled on his boots and left his room. For the first time in his life, he was excited to go to his dead-end job.

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #darry curtis #darry curtis angst #sick darry curtis #migraine fic #i am always making him suffer #im sorry baby #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #sunshine speaks #sunshine writes

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novaursa · 2 days ago

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A Lion's Folly (home)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the feast

- Next part: what may come

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling

Jaime stood before a polished table in his chambers, fastening the clasps of his cloak. His golden hand rested awkwardly at his side, and every movement felt stiffer than usual. Today was the day he and you would leave for Casterly Rock, escorted by a retinue of Lannister guards. The thought filled him with a strange mix of anticipation and unease.

Jaime glanced at the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an expression he barely recognized. The man in the mirror looked tired but determined, a far cry from the reckless Kingslayer he had once been. This was the beginning of a new chapter, one he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for but knew he couldn’t avoid.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention, and he turned to see Brienne stepping inside. She wore her usual armor, though it bore fresh scratches and dents, evidence of her constant readiness for battle. Her expression was serious, her blue eyes keen as she regarded him.

“Brienne,” Jaime greeted, his tone neutral but tinged with curiosity. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wanted to speak with you before you leave,” Brienne said, stepping further into the room.

Jaime raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.

Brienne hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching at her sides as if she were trying to find the right words. “I’ve been thinking about Lady Catelyn,” she said finally. “About the promise I made to her. To find her daughters and bring them home.”

Jaime nodded, his expression softening. “You’ve done more for her daughters than most would. Sansa’s disappearance wasn’t your fault, Brienne.”

Brienne’s jaw tightened, her voice firm. “It doesn’t matter. I made a vow, and I intend to keep it. Arya is still out there somewhere, and I won’t stop searching for her.”

Jaime sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I assumed this would be goodbye.”

“For now,” Brienne replied, her gaze steady. “But hear me, Jaime. If I hear even the faintest whisper that Y/N has been mistreated at Casterly Rock, I will return. And I will deal with you myself.”

Her words were a sharp blade, cutting through the air with unwavering conviction. Jaime didn’t flinch, meeting her gaze with equal steadiness.

“I have no intention of mistreating her,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “You should know me better than that by now.”

Brienne studied him for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of falsehood. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained serious. “I believe you. But the world you’re taking her to isn’t kind. You’ll have to protect her from more than just yourself.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before returning to Brienne. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I will.”

Brienne’s posture relaxed slightly, though her eyes still held a trace of wariness. “Good,” she said simply.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Jaime’s lips. “You’ve always had a way of keeping me in line, haven’t you?”

Brienne huffed, her lips twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. “Someone has to.”

Jaime chuckled softly, stepping closer and extending his left hand. Brienne hesitated before clasping it firmly, her grip strong and steady.

“Take care of yourself, Brienne,” Jaime said, his voice softer now.

“And you,” Brienne replied, releasing his hand. She hesitated, then added, “And take care of her.”

“I will,” Jaime promised, his tone resolute.

Brienne nodded once more before stepping back, her armor glinting faintly in the morning light. Without another word, she turned and left the room, her heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Jaime stood there for a moment, his thoughts churning. Brienne’s warning lingered in his mind, a reminder of the responsibility he was taking on—not just as a husband, but as a protector.

He adjusted his cloak one final time, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the room. The journey ahead was daunting, but Jaime Lannister had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

And this challenge, he knew, would define the man he was striving to become.

The courtyard of the Red Keep was bustling with activity as Jaime stood near the front of the small Lannister procession, his horse saddled and ready. The golden lion banners fluttered lazily in the faint morning breeze, and the clatter of armor and hooves echoed against the stone walls. Jaime adjusted his cloak absently again, his eyes flicking toward the entrance to the keep where he expected you to emerge at any moment.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots crunching on the gravel behind him. He turned to see Bronn sauntering into the courtyard, leading his own horse—a sturdy, dark bay with a well-worn saddle. Bronn had his usual smirk plastered across his face, his free hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. “And what exactly are you doing here, Bronn? Last I checked, I didn’t invite you along for this trip.”

Bronn grinned, tilting his head toward the horse. “Oh, I know. This wasn’t your idea. It was your father’s.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed as he crossed his arms. “Tywin sent you?”

“Aye,” Bronn replied, patting the horse’s neck. “Said you might need someone to keep an eye on things. You know, make sure no one decides to put an arrow in your back on the way to your lovely little wedding.”

Jaime’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How thoughtful of him. And how much did he pay you for this act of generosity?”

Bronn’s grin widened. “More than I’d make in a year guarding some noble’s wine cellar. Let’s just say your father knows how to sweeten a deal.”

Jaime let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course he does. So, what is it, then? My father doesn’t trust me to make it to Casterly Rock without you babysitting me?”

“Could be that,” Bronn said with a shrug. “Or maybe he just likes having someone around who isn’t afraid to tell you when you’re being a twit.”

Jaime snorted, running his good hand through his hair. “I can’t decide if this is Tywin’s way of helping me or punishing me.”

“Probably both,” Bronn said, his tone light. “But don’t worry, Kingslayer. I’ll try not to make your life too miserable.”

Jaime studied him for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “And what about her?”

Bronn raised an eyebrow. “The Stark girl? What about her?”

Jaime’s gaze narrowed, his tone sharper now. “If you’re coming with us, you’ll treat her with respect. She’s not part of your usual… games.”

Bronn’s grin didn’t waver, though there was a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “Relax, Jaime. I’m not stupid enough to cross a Stark bride, especially one with a temper like hers. Besides, she’s got you watching her every move, doesn’t she?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze shifting back toward the entrance to the keep.

Bronn chuckled softly, leaning against his horse. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Jaime shot him a stern look. “Don’t start.”

“What?” Bronn said innocently, spreading his hands. “I’m just saying, you’re practically glowing every time she’s in the room. It’s hard not to notice.”

Jaime shook his head, muttering under his breath, “You notice too much.”

“Someone’s got to,” Bronn replied with a wink. “Now, are we going to stand here all day, or are we actually going to get moving?”

Jaime ignored him, his attention returning to the keep as the sound of footsteps and voices grew louder. You were finally being escorted toward the courtyard, your expression set in a mask of irritation.

Bronn straightened, adjusting the reins of his horse as he glanced at Jaime. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Jaime didn’t respond, his focus entirely on you as you approached, your gown catching the light of the morning sun. For all your defiance and disdain, you carried yourself with the same unshakable grace that seemed to define the Starks.

And for a fleeting moment, Jaime found himself grateful that Bronn would be there—not to protect him, but to ensure he didn’t lose himself completely in the storm you brought with you.

The air was cool and crisp as you were escorted through the long corridors of the Red Keep, two Lannister guards flanking you on either side. The weight of your impending journey hung heavily over you, your steps deliberate but reluctant. Despite the morning sun filtering through the high windows, everything about this day felt stifling.

The guards remained silent, their armor clinking softly with every step as you descended the stone stairs into the courtyard. The sounds of horses snorting and men shouting orders reached your ears, and the familiar sigil of the Lannister lion adorned every banner in sight.

Jaime stood near the center of the procession, his back to you as he spoke to Bronn, whose usual smug grin was firmly in place. As you approached, Jaime turned, his green eyes immediately finding yours. There was something in his gaze—perhaps relief, perhaps trepidation—that he quickly masked with his usual calm composure.

“You’re late,” Jaime remarked, his tone light but edged with a hint of teasing.

“I didn’t realize I was on your schedule,” you replied sharply, brushing past him toward the horse that had been prepared for you.

Bronn chuckled softly from where he stood, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t catch.

One of the stable hands brought your horse forward, a sleek gray mare adorned with Lannister colors. The sight of the lion sigil embroidered into the saddle made your stomach churn, but you pushed the feeling aside, mounting the horse with practiced ease.

Jaime stepped closer, adjusting the reins of his own horse as he addressed you. “Comfortable?”

“Does it matter?” you replied curtly, your gaze fixed ahead.

Before Jaime could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps drew both your attentions. Tywin Lannister strode into the courtyard, his red cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. He moved with his usual commanding presence, and all activity seemed to pause as he approached.

“Father,” Jaime greeted, inclining his head slightly.

Tywin nodded in acknowledgment before addressing Jaime directly. “Before you depart, there are matters we must discuss regarding your arrival at Casterly Rock.”

Jaime adjusted the reins in his hand, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course.”

Tywin’s gaze was steady as he continued. “When you arrive, you will begin assuming the duties expected of the Warden of the West. That includes overseeing the mines, managing our vassals, and ensuring that the defenses of Casterly Rock remain impenetrable. You’ll also need to familiarize yourself with the state of trade routes in the Westerlands. Our coffers depend on it.”

Jaime nodded, his tone measured. “I understand.”

Tywin’s piercing gaze shifted briefly to you before returning to Jaime. “And once the wedding is concluded, you’ll ensure that Lady Y/N’s presence is properly integrated into your household. She is to be treated with respect, but it is your responsibility to ensure her loyalty to House Lannister.”

You bristled at Tywin’s words, your hands tightening on the reins. “Loyalty isn’t something you can force, Lord Tywin.”

Tywin’s cold eyes settled on you, his expression unreadable. “Loyalty, my lady, is often the result of practicality. I trust you will come to see the wisdom in that.”

Before you could respond, Jaime cut in, his voice calm but firm. “Father, we’ll handle it. Is there anything else?”

Tywin regarded Jaime for a moment before continuing, his tone as measured as ever. “After Tommen’s coronation, I will visit Casterly Rock to ensure all matters are proceeding as expected. In the meantime, you will report regularly. I will not tolerate negligence, Jaime.”

Jaime inclined his head, his expression betraying none of his thoughts. “Understood.”

Tywin turned to leave but stopped as Jaime spoke again. “What about Tyrion?”

Tywin paused, his back to Jaime. “What about him?”

“What will happen to him?” Jaime asked, his tone quieter now.

Tywin turned slightly, his expression hardening. “He will face a trial. The evidence against him is damning, and the realm demands justice for what happened to Joffrey.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, his left hand clenching slightly. “You don’t honestly believe Tyrion poisoned Joffrey.”

“What I believe is irrelevant,” Tywin replied coldly. “The realm believes it. The trial will determine the truth.”

Jaime frowned but said nothing, his gaze dropping briefly before he straightened. Tywin gave one final nod before turning and leaving the courtyard, his red cloak disappearing behind him.

The silence that followed was thick, the weight of Tywin’s words hanging heavily in the air. Jaime exhaled slowly, turning back to you as you sat rigidly atop your horse.

“Shall we?” he asked, his tone quieter than usual.

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze fixed ahead. Finally, you nodded, your voice curt. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jaime sighed, mounting his horse as the procession began to move. The clatter of hooves echoed against the stone as you left the Red Keep behind, the shadow of King’s Landing fading into the distance.

The steady rhythm of hooves against packed dirt was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of birds, as the procession made its way through a winding forest path. Jaime rode near the front of the group, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his saddle as his eyes drifted toward you.

You rode a few paces behind, your posture stiff, your gaze focused ahead but distant. Jaime couldn’t tell whether the ride or his presence annoyed you more, but he suspected it was a combination of both.

The uneasy silence of the journey was shattered by a low, haunting howl that echoed through the trees. The sound sent a ripple of unease through the group, the horses snorting nervously as the guards exchanged wary glances.

“Bloody hell,” Bronn muttered, pulling his horse closer to Jaime’s. “That doesn’t sound friendly.”

Before Jaime could respond, you stiffened in your saddle, your head snapping toward the forest. Your eyes lit up with recognition, and before anyone could stop you, you dismounted in one fluid motion.

“What is she doing now?” Bronn groaned, rolling his eyes as he watched you stride toward the treeline.

Jaime leaned forward, gripping the reins tightly as he called out to you. “Y/N! Stay with the group!”

You ignored him, your focus entirely on the dense line of trees. The guards looked to Jaime for guidance, but he held up a hand, silently signaling them to hold their positions.

From the shadows of the forest, a massive figure emerged—Winter, his pale silver and white fur gleaming in the dappled sunlight. His piercing blue eyes locked onto you as he padded forward, his movements graceful but predatory.

“Winter,” you murmured, your voice filled with relief and something bordering on joy.

The direwolf let out a low whine as he closed the distance between you, his head lowering as you knelt to meet him. You wrapped your arms around his massive neck, burying your face in his fur as his tail thumped against the ground. The sight was striking, the fierce creature melting into something almost gentle under your touch.

“Well, would you look at that,” Bronn said, leaning back in his saddle with a grin. “She looks happier hugging that wolf than riding beside you, Kingslayer.”

Jaime shot him a sharp look but didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on you. There was a softness in your expression that he hadn’t seen before, a rare glimpse of something unguarded.

“She’s been through a lot,” Jaime said quietly, almost to himself.

“That much is clear,” Bronn replied, his tone lighter now. “But I’ll tell you this—if you’re planning to win her over, you’ve got some competition. That beast might be the only thing she truly trusts.”

Jaime frowned, watching as you ran your hands through Winter’s thick fur, whispering something too soft for him to hear. The direwolf nuzzled you in response, his massive frame practically dwarfing you.

Finally, you stood, your hand resting on Winter’s neck as you turned back toward the group. Your expression was calm, though your eyes still held a trace of defiance as they met Jaime’s.

“He’ll be following us,” you said simply, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Jaime nodded, his voice measured. “Of course. He’ll be safer with us.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of his sudden willingness to agree. “He’s safer in the forest, but he won’t leave me. Not now.”

Bronn smirked, leaning closer to Jaime. “Looks like you’ve got a two-for-one deal, Lannister. Hope the wolf doesn’t mind sharing.”

Jaime shot him another glare before addressing you again. “We should keep moving. The sooner we’re out of these woods, the better.”

You nodded, turning back to Winter and murmuring something to him before climbing back into your saddle. The direwolf trotted alongside your horse, his presence a silent but commanding addition to the procession.

As the group resumed its journey, Jaime couldn’t help but glance back at you.

The sun set low on the horizon as the Lannister procession began setting up camp for the night. The guards moved with practiced efficiency, unloading supplies, pitching tents, and securing the perimeter. The faint scent of smoke from the campfires mingled with the earthy aroma of the surrounding woods.

You dismounted from your horse with a grace that belied the tension in your shoulders, your eyes scanning the activity around you. Winter padded silently by your side. Jaime, still astride his horse, watched as you moved toward a cluster of supplies. There was something deliberate in your stride, a purpose that caught his attention.

As Jaime dismounted, you turned abruptly, your eyes locking onto his. “We need to talk,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Jaime adjusted his golden hand absently, nodding toward a quieter area away from the bustling camp. “Over here,” he said, leading the way to a secluded patch of clearing just beyond the main tents.

Once there, you crossed your arms and fixed him with a sharp gaze. Winter sat at your side, his blue eyes watching Jaime intently. “What new deal has your father struck with Roose Bolton?”

Jaime blinked, surprised by your directness. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy,” you snapped, stepping closer. “I know Tywin has been in contact with Bolton. What are they planning? What does he want with Robb?”

Jaime’s expression shifted, a mixture of confusion and unease crossing his features. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Tywin hasn’t told me anything.”

You scoffed, clearly unconvinced. “You expect me to believe that? You’re his heir now, his golden son. He tells you everything.”

Jaime shook his head, his voice firm. “Not this. Whatever plans my father has with Roose Bolton, he hasn’t shared them with me. I swear it.”

Your eyes narrowed, studying him for any sign of deceit. “If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not,” Jaime interrupted, his tone sharper than before. “Believe me, I’ve asked him. He’s keeping it to himself.”

You frowned, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why?” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

“Because he doesn’t need to,” Jaime said bitterly. “That’s how Tywin operates. He makes his plans, keeps them close to his chest, and expects everyone else to follow orders without question.”

Your arms dropped to your sides, your gaze falling to the ground. “If he’s working with Roose again…” You trailed off, your voice trembling slightly. “Robb could be in danger.”

Jaime hesitated. “I won’t let that happen.”

You looked up abruptly, your expression incredulous. “You won’t let it happen? How, Jaime? You’ve already let this—this farce happen.” You gestured between the two of you, anger flashing in your eyes. “I’m supposed to trust you now?”

Jaime exhaled heavily, stepping closer. “I know you don’t trust me. And I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it. But I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll do what I can to protect your brother.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “That’s not enough.”

“It’s all I have,” Jaime said softly, his tone almost pleading. “If I knew more, I’d tell you. But I don’t. All I can promise is that I’ll do what I can when the time comes.”

You stared at him, your emotions a storm of anger, fear, and doubt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the distant sounds of the camp.

Finally, you stepped back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to shield against the weight of the conversation. “If anything happens to Robb…” You didn’t finish the sentence, but the warning in your tone was clear.

Jaime nodded, his green eyes meeting yours with a rare sincerity. “I know.”

Without another word, you turned and walked back toward the camp, Winter following closely at your side. Jaime remained where he was, watching you go, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders. Whatever plans Tywin had set in motion, Jaime knew he would have to tread carefully. His loyalty to his family felt at odds with something deeper now—something he couldn’t quite name.

And as he stood there in the quiet of the forest, Jaime realized that protecting you and your family might cost him more than he was willing to admit.

The camp had settled into the quiet hum of night. The fires crackled softly, casting dancing shadows over the nearby trees. Most of the guards were either asleep or on rotation, their voices low as they patrolled the perimeter. The stars above peeked through the thick canopy, offering little light but a sense of openness in the otherwise dense forest.

Jaime sat near the central fire, nursing a goblet of wine. His gaze drifted to where you sat on the far side of the fire, Winter lying protectively at your feet, his pale silver fur glowing almost ethereally in the dim light. You were sharpening a small dagger, your movements precise and deliberate. The quiet determination on your face was familiar, a reflection of the unyielding strength he had come to associate with you.

Bronn sat a few feet away, leaning against a log with his goblet tilted lazily in his hand. He followed Jaime's gaze, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“You’re staring again,” Bronn said, his tone light and teasing.

Jaime’s jaw tightened, his gaze snapping back to the fire. “I’m not staring.”

Bronn chuckled, raising his goblet. “Sure you’re not. Just observing, right?”

Jaime ignored him, finishing his wine and setting the goblet aside. He stood, brushing off his cloak as he made his way toward you.

Bronn snorted, shaking his head. “This ought to be good.”

You looked up as Jaime approached, your expression guarded but curious. Winter lifted his head, his eyes locking onto Jaime with a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest.

“Evening,” Jaime said, stopping a safe distance away. He glanced at Winter, then back at you. “Mind if I join you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze shifting to Winter. You reached down, placing a calming hand on his head. “As long as you don’t mind risking a limb,” you said dryly, returning to your dagger.

Jaime smirked faintly, lowering himself onto a nearby log. “I’ll take my chances.”

Winter’s growl deepened, his teeth bared slightly as his gaze remained fixed on Jaime.

“He doesn’t seem to agree,” Jaime noted, his tone light but wary.

You glanced at Winter, your hand still resting on his head. “He doesn’t trust you. Can’t say I blame him.”

Jaime tilted his head, his smirk faltering slightly. “And you? Do you trust me?”

Your hands stilled, and you met his gaze with a steady look. “That depends. Should I?”

Jaime hesitated, the weight of your question settling over him. Before he could respond, Winter let out another low growl, his eyes narrowing.

“Easy,” Jaime murmured, raising his golden hand slightly. “I’m not here to hurt her.”

Winter snapped his jaws at the motion, making Jaime flinch slightly. Bronn, watching from a distance, burst into laughter, his goblet shaking in his hand.

“Well, that’s one way to impress a lady,” Bronn called out, his grin wide. “Try losing the other hand, why don’t you?”

Jaime shot him a glare, muttering under his breath, “Shut up, Bronn.”

You smirked faintly, shaking your head as you returned to sharpening your dagger. “I’d listen to him if I were you. Winter doesn’t give second chances.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, his gaze returning to you. “I’m not here to impress anyone. I just… thought we could talk.”

You arched an eyebrow, your tone skeptical. “Talk about what?”

Jaime shrugged, his expression softening. “Anything. Everything. Whatever you want.”

You stared at him for a moment, your fingers brushing absently through Winter’s fur. Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to try so hard, Jaime.”

His smirk returned, though it was softer this time. “Maybe I do. You’re not exactly easy to win over.”

You let out a soft snort, shaking your head. “And you’re not exactly the picture of charm.”

“Yet here we are,” Jaime said, leaning back slightly.

Winter growled again, his tail flicking in irritation. Jaime sighed, glancing at the direwolf. “You really don’t make this easy, do you?”

“He’s just doing his job,” you said simply, scratching behind Winter’s ears.

Bronn’s laughter echoed once more from across the fire. “You might as well give up, Jaime. That beast likes her better than you ever will.”

Jaime shot him another glare but couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped. “At least he’s honest about it.”

The fire crackled softly in the center of the camp as night deepened, as Bronn decided to leave Jaime and you alone shortly after.

Jaime shifted slightly on the log he’d claimed. His gaze flicked back to you as you continued to sharpen your dagger, the sound of steel against stone filling the silence between two of you. Winter, still lying at your feet, kept his eyes on Jaime, though his growling had faded into a low rumble, more caution than outright aggression.

Jaime exhaled, leaning forward slightly. “Casterly Rock,” he began, his tone quieter now, less guarded, “is nothing like King’s Landing. You’ll see that soon enough.”

You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jaime smirked faintly, though it lacked his usual edge. “Because it’s where we’re headed. And because I doubt anyone’s ever told you what it’s truly like.”

You arched an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, your hands continuing their methodical work.

“It’s a fortress,” Jaime continued, his gaze distant as if he were seeing the Rock in his mind. “A massive, unyielding monolith carved into the cliffs overlooking the Sunset Sea. It’s beautiful, in its own way. Cold, though. Not like Winterfell’s cold, but… distant.”

You tilted your head slightly, your interest piqued despite yourself. “Distant?”

Jaime nodded, his smirk fading. “The halls are vast, the rooms grand, but it always felt… empty. Like you could shout and never hear the echo. It was just my siblings and me most of the time. Tywin was always busy, and my mother… well, she tried.”

There was something in his voice, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. It caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot your usual defenses.

“I spent most of my time on the cliffs,” Jaime continued, his gaze dropping to the fire. “There’s a path that winds down to the beach. When I was a boy, I used to sit there for hours, staring out at the water. I used to think about what lay beyond it. A world where no one cared about names or banners. Just freedom.”

You set the dagger aside, resting your hands in your lap as you studied him. “I never imagined you as the type to dream about freedom.”

Jaime chuckled softly, the sound bitter. “Neither did I. But back then, I didn’t have a reputation as the Kingslayer weighing me down. Back then, I was just a boy trying to escape my father’s shadow.”

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of understanding. Reluctantly, you spoke, your voice quieter now. “When I was little, my father used to take us riding through the Wolfswood. Robb always tried to race me, and Jon… he was always so careful, making sure I didn’t fall behind.”

Jaime��s gaze shifted to you, his expression softening as he listened.

“We used to come back covered in dirt, half-frozen from the snow, and my mother would scold us for ruining our cloaks,” you continued, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “But I think she secretly loved it. It was the only time we all felt… free.”

Jaime leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. “And now?”

Your smile faded, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Now, it feels like all of that belonged to someone else. Someone who didn’t know what was coming.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest. Winter, sensing your shift in mood, nuzzled your knee with his massive head. You reached down, scratching behind his ears absently.

Jaime watched the interaction, his green eyes thoughtful. “He’s protective of you,” he said, his tone softer now.

You nodded. “He’s the last bit of home I have left.”

Winter let out a low rumble, his tail thumping faintly against the ground. Jaime extended his left hand slowly, keeping his movements deliberate and unthreatening. To his surprise, Winter didn’t growl this time, though his eyes remained wary.

“Seems like he’s warming up to me,” Jaime said with a faint smirk.

You glanced at Winter, your brow furrowing slightly as you noticed his lack of hostility. “Don’t take it as a victory. He’s just tired.”

Jaime chuckled, leaning back against the log. “I’ll take what I can get.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in a companionable silence, the animosity between you easing slightly. It wasn’t peace, not yet, but it was something.

“You’re not what I expected,” you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself.

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Is that a compliment?”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no malice in the gesture. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Jaime quipped, his tone light but sincere.

As the fire crackled on, you allowed yourself a moment of quiet reflection. Jaime’s openness had caught you off guard, but it had also reminded you of something you thought you’d lost—a sense of connection, however fleeting.

And though you wouldn’t admit it, you found yourself wondering if Jaime Lannister might be more than the man you’d believed him to be.

91 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 days ago

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Ooooh I'M so excited to see what you thought of the ATW finale!

Lol aww you remembered!! ❤️‍🔥 I've legit had this scene for this story in my head since that convo! But you're too kind to me, friend, thank you so very much. 🥹🥹 This is a lot shorter than how long my usual series run, so I feared it was a bit rushed, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed the ride. 💕

And yes, I did steal your other Ross gif! 🤣

There's legit a Friends gif for everything.~

Such a strong and hot start, wow! 🫠🔥 Full honesty, as a writer, starting chapters with smut always freaks me tf out. Like, where do you put the damn "keep reading" line without flashing some innocent people at work 😂

We're starting off with a bang! 😝 (Sorry, even I hate my self for that pun.)

Oh God, yeah. How do I include a hook to get people to read this chapter while keeping the steamy stuff under the cut? 🤣🤣

Ooof, I know the exact feeling you're describing here. Kinda like when you're taking a hot bath but the room is cold and so everything not covered by water is freezing... 😅

Yes exactly! The kind of cold that just exists in the air like a frigid blanket. 🥶

Oh, here we go! Executed to perfection 😏

Ahaha thank you, my lovely. 😏❤️‍🔥

First of all, I was just reading this whole, intensely scorching scene with a thundering heart and squeezing my damn thighs hard 😂 Secondly, I loooove this trope! It's sorta romantic?! Idk 😅🤷‍♀️ Kinda gives "waiting for the right one and not in the mood for anyone else" vibes. I did that kinda with Russell recently lol But I love the extra intensity and specialness it gives, y'know? ❤️‍🔥

omg I love that trope too (clearly lol)! Yes that's exactly it on it being actually romantic -- and if you mean on Part 3 of Exit Strategy than I'm even more excited to read that chapter when I get a chance -- hopefully later this week! 😍 I'm loving how you're writing Russell. 💗

But yes I agree it adds an extra spark here imo, knowing Dean has been unintentially "saving himself" for her lmaoo.

Loved the callback of him hearing her again, although his instincts had taken over. It shows how much he cares about her and respects her 💕 And I truly wonder what Sam will say when Dean comes back with a mate lol

Aww that's exactly what I intended as well! He's not so far gone that he doesn't consider her and what she wants (with him). 💕

You know what, a few people have requested seeing an epilogue of some kind where Sam gets to meet the reader and she gets to meet him and Dean Jr., so I may have to sketch something soon for my next little project. 🥰

Lol I was gonna say, "How long do you guys plan on being here? This might take a while" 😂 But I'm so in love with their little afterglow bonding session ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly could read about their convos forever. They're so cute 🥹

Lolll right? They could be here for a week just going over the past 15 seasons. 😂 But they have to start somewhere, right? John's journal can only cover so much. And I wanted Dean to start expressing himself to her in words and start to open up to her in a way he hasn't done for anyone in years.

Aww I'm so glad that you love them together! 💗 In this story I found that the small moments and day-to-day convos between these two were just as important as the bigger action/dramatic moments.

We've already talked about this when he mentioned Dean jr. the first time, but my headcanon is, too, that Dean would be super happy, incredibly sad and lonely, and definitely a little envious and sour lol 😂😂

Ugh that's exactly it, poor baby. 😭 A perfect description of Dean post S15 here (gotta add envious and sour lmao).

You really nailed him here! I could hear every word out of his mouth, too!! 😂🫶

Omg thank you!! I feel like Dean's the one I can hear most clearly in my head when I write for him. 😂😂

Can totally seeing him doing all of that and arguing with her throughout lol Our hero 🥹💚

Oh absolutely. These two would probably be driving each other crazy while still being crazy in love with one another -- bickering all down the mountain. 🙄😂

(Dean grumbling, trying to stamp down his smile: "Shoulda left you for the damn bear.")

Oooh, I completely forgot she doesn't yet!! Aww, she loved him before she knew he had a cool car. This is like finding out he was a millionaire and kept it a secret to find true love and weed out the gold diggers 🤣

Bahahaa I LOVE that comparison. 🤣 I just imagined him pulling up like--

This had me DEAD 🤣🤣🤣

lmfaoooo I meannnn, is he wrong? 😂😂

A year???? Jesus fuck, this is even sadder now!!! Sam was really like, "Ciao, jerk." lol

Yeeeeah maybe this is something I'll explore if/when I write that epilogue, but Sam really is off having his new life. Granted, in my mind he reaches out to Dean to check in, invite him over, etc., but even though Dean's happy for him, it's hard to be around Sam's life when Dean himself feels so aimless (and kind of empty inside). So he probably did a lot of the "staying away" in the situation. 💙

Oh she's about to find out how much 😂😂💚

Oh she's about to find out a lot of things about her man that she never thought possible. 🤣🤣

("You've died HOW many times?!!")

That was such a perfect ending! They literally drove off into the sunset together *swoon* 😍🫠🫶 (And I could totally see Dean singing along to the lyrics at the end there) I seriously enjoyed this series so much, friend!! 🤍🤍🤍 Totally gave me those vibes 🥹💕:

Aww thank you so, so much, Wayne!! 💕💕 They really did have their Hallmark movie moment lol. (Oh, he SO would be singing along -- loudly! lol)

omggg I'm honestly honored that it gave you Mondler vibes. 🥹 I always loved them more than Ross/Rachel tbh, so that's literally the best compliment ever. 💗

Thank you again so much for reading and always brightening my day right up with your wonderful, insightful, hilarious comments on my writing, friend. 💞

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him.

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder.

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house.

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right.

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says.

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips.

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says.

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between.

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues.

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas.

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling.

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention.

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.”

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips.

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks.

So you tell him.

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes.

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn.

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate.

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason.

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide.

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.”

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat.

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.”

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him.

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss.

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital.

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement.

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live.

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.”

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question.

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school.

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his.

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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ethereacals · 3 days ago

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hey gorgeous! I was thinking abt a reader who is a bit of a gym rat and her and James become friends in the gym and every day after the gym he tells rem and siri abt this girl and then one day they all meet somewhere (maybe like grocers i dont know) and the other boys fall in love and then next time they are at the gym James asks her to go on a date with all of them in hogsmeade or something cute like that and they all start going out!!!! Obviously just ignore if that sounded horrific, love you!!💞💞

ty for requesting my love, sorry for the wait.

and i decided to just make it james x reader since i haven’t done much just james, hope that’s okay (:

VOGUE

synopsis: gymrat!reader gets uninvitingly hit on my one of the guys at her gym. so it’s James to the rescue.

james potter x gn!reader

warnings: james potter and his irresistibility, unwanted sexual attention and innuendos, profanity

content: teddy bear james

YOU WERE COOLING down from your workout in the yoga and weightlifting room in your gym.

Sitting on your yoga mat, you stretched out your sore muscles.

The gym was usually a safe space for you, most of the regulars knew you and were extremely kind and supportive.

But today was different.

There were two guys in on opposite sides of the room from you, one was in his own little world with his headphones in. The other was staring at you through the mirror, and you were trying to ignore it.

Sure, he was fit.

But not what you were looking for right now.

As long as he didn’t say anythi—

“Hey, Babes.”

Of course, he just had to come over there.

“Um.. hi?” You greeted, keeping your headphones in.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the gym for the whole day.” He flirted, clearly he must have thought that sounded attractive because to you it was creepy.

“Oh.. thanks?”

“You know… i’m free all day after this. And— I’m done with my workout.” He smirked, leaning against the mirror with his sweaty abs all up in your face.

“That’s a nice offer.. but— i’m not done yet.” You mustered up a fake smile.

“That’s fine, you could finish up those stretches at my place. Though I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself…” He winked, and you could puke.

“Again, a nice offer but I’m really not interested.” You tried, but there seemed to be no way you could get through to him.

“Oh, come on. Babe. I know you wanna come with me.” He started to gather up your stuff for you.

“Hey! don’t touch my stuff—“

“I’m just being a gentleman, what? Something naughty in here that you don’t want me to see?” He continued going through your stuff, and right before you could get up and take it from him..

“You heard them, man. Get lost.” You looked up to see the other guy that was across from you in the room.

“They’re just playing hard to get—“

“No, they’re trying to be nice but also basically telling you to go fuck yourself.” He argued, taking your stuff out of his hands and placing it back down next to you.

“Get out of here, or I’ll tell Marlene that you’re harassing someone and she’ll get your membership revoked.”

“Whatever, you weren’t really that sexy, anyways.” He shot his middle finger up at you, and shoved the glass doors open to the yoga room.

You let out a breath of relief.

“Thank y—“

“Don’t mention it, he was being a dick.” He rolled his eyes, crouching down to meet your level— but keeping a respectful distance.

“I’m James, James Potter.” He grinned, his hand out towards you.

“Y/N L/N.” You smiled, shaking his hand gently.

“Enjoy your workout, m’kay? If anyone else starts bothering you just come find me.” He stood, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“O—Okay…” You managed to get out, James literally was adorable.

He smiled brightly at you, before turning and walking back to his weights.

Maybe you would be okay getting harassed more often, BUT only if James was the one to save you.

#marauders era #marauders #fanfiction #james potter #james potter x reader

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lemotmo · 2 days ago

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Yes to all and fascinating 🎉🎉

Q. Do you really think Buddie is happening? There is just so much evidence to suggest otherwise that I cannot bring myself to believe it's ever going to be a thing.

A. Where is this overwhelming amount of evidence that you speak of? How did I miss all the evidence? You certainly didn't provide any evidence in your ask. In fact the only 'evidence' that ever gets stated is "Ryan's dad said it's not happening'". That's it. That's all anyone ever has to offer up as proof it's not happening. A select few will go the even more ridiculous route and say "Lou said Ryan wasn't into it". I cannot believe I missed the meeting where it was decided that an actor's father, who the actor himself has suggested he has a rather complicated relationship with, and the man who wanted his job are used as the voices of truth and fact over the actors own words. The Ryan stuff in general is wild in this fandom. Oliver's quotes are taken as fact. He gets credit for his own voice. Why does Ryan not get the same credit in return? Oliver says he's up for it if that is the direction the show decides to take them in. Response: "yay Oliver wants Buddie"! Ryan says he's up for it if that's the direction the show decides to take them in. Response : "well he's not going to tell us he doesn't want it to happen". What's the difference between the two answers? They both have said the same thing and they've said it repeatedly. Why does Oliver get credit for saying it but Ryan gets discredited in favor of his father and the leech who wanted his job? It makes absolutely no sense. The only thing Ryan added to his response was that he was good with whatever direction as long as the show didn't lose their friendship at the core. That is not a fancy way to say 'I just want them to stay friends'. That's how you say a romance between them would be great but please don't ever forget that they are also best friends. People taking that response and bastardizing it to make it sound like something he didn't say is not Ryan's fault. I don't want their friendship to be erased when they turn romantic, most of us don't. Their friendship is their foundation and it's what brought people in in the first place. No one should want that erased once they go canon. That's all he was saying. I do believe Buddie is happening and I believe there is overwhelming evidence to support the belief that Buddie is happening.

The nonsense with his father's Buddie answer happened years ago, that is not a recent answer, and while the show was fully owned and controlled by FOX. It has been fairly well established since then that the plan was for them to go canon as a result of the Ana/ shooting arc. Which means Ryan and Oliver went into the beginning of that storyline with the full knowledge that the outcome would be Buddie. Clearly Ryan was down for that. He played it that way. The panic attack in the store when Ana was referred to as 'mom'. The conversation with Carla about making sure he followed his own heart and not just Christopher's. The entire shooting scene! The way Eddie's only response was to check to see if Buck was also hurt. The way Buck arrives at the hospital when Eddie wakes up. The will reveal conversation. The break up scene and dialogue between Eddie and Ana. It was clearly where it was supposed to go. Somewhere between conception and completion FOX stopped it, we don't know for sure why. Studio execs may have cut the storyline but they clearly didn't demand scenes be rewritten or re shot so Tim and the show kept the dialogue and framing of the scenes the same, an intentional choice on their part because I believe he always intended to come back to Buddie. The only thing I'm not sure of timing wise is the Taylor of it all. I don't know at what point she was re added into the mix, but that was when the show started trying very hard to make her a viable endgame option for Buck. Oliver never really got on board with that ship though so it was a hard sell, but Kristen and the show tried very hard to make it sail. I don't believe Eddie was brought in for Buck from the very beginning, but I do think it became very clear to Tim, and the others, fairly early on that the chemistry between Oliver and Ryan afforded them options they may not have ever intended. As a result I think Tim, as well as Oliver and Ryan, started leaning into and playing around with the chemistry. You cannot fake chemistry. It either exists or it doesn't. If you're a good enough actor you can fake it to an extent if you're willing to work at it, but the effortless chemistry that Oliver and Ryan have together is not easy to find.

At some point in maybe season 3 or early 4, I would guess, I think Tim decided Buck and Eddie would be each other's endgame, but that he might have to hold it specifically for the series finale. He has said before he was holding off on definitively defining their relationship because the show is not over. He gave it a shot with the shooting arc but once that was snipped I think he moved forward knowing how their story was going to end, but with the belief he was going to have to save it for the end. The show being controlled by the FOX network didn't leave him a ton of other options. Because he always had the end goal in mind he treated all their other relationships as temporary, and as a result very little effort has been put into any of them. But while they were dating other people their relationship with each other, and the family unit they built with Christopher, was given attention and depth and continued to grow and blossom. Their unit was clearly the priority. That's what got the story focus, but putting each of them in separate relationships, that got very little focus, at least gave Tim plausible deniability that he was trying to set up Buddie. Everything changed when they were freed from FOX.

Moving to ABC gave Tim options. It was clear the moment the network started promoting the show that they were fully on board with the Buddie of it all. They were basically the entire marketing campaign for season 7. Every single episode was promoted with Buddie content. I still firmly believe they were the plan for season 7. You can misinterpret episode 7x4 all you want but it was clearly about Eddie and Buck's unrealized feelings for him. Tommy was the red hearing. A way he could explain to himself why he got so carried away with jealousy without having to acknowledge or examine the Eddie of it all. The episode was not subtle. The show was basically waving a giant YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR EDDIE flag around all season long. Actual Buck focus disappeared entirely after that episode and he was used almost exclusively in Eddie's storyline. He just realized this major thing about himself and his new found relationship and status got zero focus because the show wanted the audience to remember that his relationship with Eddie was still the priority. Eddie and Buck as a unit was still the focus. I have made no secret about what a disaster I think the back half of season 7 was, especially the finale, my god that was a terrible episode of television. I think Tim eventually came around to that realization as well because he spent the first half of season 8 undoing all the nonsense the rewrites in season 7 created. He got Maya reunited with her family, got Bobby back as captain, and split Buck and Tommy. All the while he was cleaning up the season 7 mess though he allowed the first part of season 8 to be overrun by Brad. I liked Brad, I really did, but his focus took away from the genuinely needed forward motion on the Eddie storyline. That has to be corrected in the back half of the season. I 100% believe Buddie is the plan, and is coming sooner rather than later, and for the most part Buck has been put in position. He has arrived at the beginning of his realization. Eddie is not quite there yet though. He's stuck in the Christopher situation. Not everything needs to be resolved and closed before he can be ready for Buck, that's an unfair demand to make of his character and a television show, but the Christopher situation needs to at least be moving forward. Eddie has enough information about his own feelings to not be too far behind Buck in his realization, but he's blinded right now by the Christopher situation. Eddie needs focus first. It's way past time for some Eddie centric storylines. Let him spend a couple of episodes on himself. The Buck realization can come while that stuff is going on, in fact it would make sense for Eddie to realize his feelings while he's in Texas. But even if the show doesn't do it while he's in Texas, Buddie is coming. They have intentionally avoided, sidestepped, or not even bothered trying at all, with any kind of viable alternative for either character. They're not interested in anyone else for them. And now they're at a network that isn't forcing their hand to go another way. They just have to clean up some thing first.

If you don't want it to happen that's fine. Your preference is your business and your right. But people need to stop pretending they're only saying it's not happening because it's the obvious answer. The obvious answer is the contrary in fact. All the legitimate evidence we have points to it being inevitable. A bullshit answer from a parent, who has no direct involvement with the show, and a laughably predictable response from a man who wanted his job, is not the winning hand you all seem to think it is.

Thank you for this Nonny! I needed a post like this to reply to. There has been so much discourse lately and I miss the fandom positivity a lot. This is definitely a great read! 🤗

So, first I'll add my disclaimer:

BUDDIE IS 100% HAPPENING.

There, I said it. Feels good too. 🤗

I don't understand what on Earth that anon was talking about with the whole 'evidence to suggest otherwise'? Do tell, where is that evidence to be found.

Because from where I'm standing there is a mountain of evidence that Buddie is happening. I'm not entirely sure of the timeline, but I have never been more sure that it's happening. I've been here since 2018-2019 and for the longest of time I was certain it would always stay a fanon ship.

But then the move to ABC and all the Buddie promo happened, combined with bi-Buck. And seeing how Eddie was EVERYWHERE in Buck's bi storyline, even when he was in a 'relationship' with some other guy, Eddie was still firmly in first place.

It was soooo obvious. From the get-go so many of us have been saying that T was a plot device to start the Buddie arc. And lo and behold... look what happened! Turns out that T was indeed a plot device! We were right! Go figure!🤷‍♀️

I think Buck's realisation that he is in love with Eddie will come quite early on in 8b, since we've already seen some of his reaction when Eddie told him he's leaving for El Paso. He'll spin out of control and finally realise why.

As for Eddie? I don't know. I'm sure he's going to be in El Paso for a few episodes to confront his parents, make up with Chris and maybe find himself in the process? I really haven't a clue about the timeline here. I will all depend on how long they'll want to draw things out. Knowing Tim, this might take a while. 🫠

But ultimately, I don't care. I'm just cruising along, waiting for March so we can get this show on the road. 🙂‍↕️

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #buddie #nonnies galore #buddie speculation #8b speculation #911 spoilers

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polarisine · 3 days ago

Text

HEAVEN-SENT

₊˚⊹ ᰔ boku no hero academia. bakugo katsuki x reader ₊˚⊹ ᰔ weary bones and gentle tones are words people wouldn’t use to describe bakugou katsuki. but you’re fortunate to see the best and worst of him, even at a distance. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ navi. ask. ۶ৎ ao3.

Neck-deep in stacks of papers and blue light radiation, you furiously type away your half-term paper like a madman.

It’s the weekend. During the holiday season.

You could’ve been somewhere in your hometown, frolicking with your neighbor’s cows, or helping around your grandpa’s greenhouse and harvest whatever crop seemed to be strong enough to withstand the winter cold.

Anything. Anything that would take you away from your university that’s eating you alive.

There’s no scrutinizing eye when you copy-pasted your work on a plagiarism application. You’re an academic achiever, a head-held-high perfectionist, but with the heavy weight that this term paper danced on your aching shoulders, at this point you honestly do not give a single fuck about your grammar.

And just as you were about to cackle after pressing the send button, there’s a distinct jingle of keys that signals the arrival of an unwelcome presence.

But the footfalls at the doorway are all too familiar, and you are more concerned about the fact that he’s here, and not the paper you just submitted thirty seconds before the deadline.

There are faint, but low profanities thrown about for a couple more seconds. You made sure the system registered your work, before closing your laptop and stretching with a huff.

A few joints pop on your shoulders, and you call out warmly, “Katsuki?”

He responds in a way—a low grunt, maybe from struggling to remove his boots or push off his gauntlets. Ever since the war has ended, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has cooled off significantly…though, you were probably the only one to notice it.

His quipped responses of single-toned noises are often a telltale sign of displeasure or hurt, and you don’t hesitate to stand on your feet to meet him by the apartment’s doorway, just as he was kicking off his boots.

Still clad in his hero costume, you can faintly smell a hint of smoke and caramel on him.

“Sorry,” You murmur sheepishly, keeping a respectable distance. “I just finished my deadlines, so dinner won’t be ready in a while.”

“S’fine.” He mumbles, quiet as the gauntlets click before completely sliding off his arms. “I don’t mind having leftovers.”

“About that…” It took small tentative steps closer to him before you could actually outstretch your hand to hold one of his gauntlets for him. “I ate them all this afternoon. They were starting to smell suspicious.”

He scoffs, but there’s finally a small tug on the corner of his lips that offers some semblance of humor. “It already smells like shit and you ate it still?”

You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a smile. “I was really hungry.”

“Don’t come crying to me if you have stomach problems.”

“I won’t.” A warm chuckle bubbles from your throat as you gaze at him, before it softens to something more neutral.

For the first time in three days, Bakugo finally looks you in the eyes. You note the hints of exhaustion in his irises and the subtle droop on his shoulders. There’s no mistaking the faint bruise flowering against his jaw, and that elicits a frown of concern from you.

As if avoiding your scrutinizing gaze, he then turns to his things by the doorway, slinging his backpack on before taking one of the gauntlets from you.

Your lips purse for a moment, unsure whether to bring the matter up, or to spare him some privacy in your humble home.

But the slight limp on his leg as he pushes past you makes you a little bit braver, and you wrap your fingers around his arm.

“I’ll pop the dinner on the stove.” You say gently as you catch his eyes. “Go shower and come to the couch.”

“M’fine.” He utters gruffly. “This is nothing.”

“Please?”

There’s a pair of red orbs scanning you quietly. Somehow, it seems there’s no more fight left in him, because he simply huffs. “Whatever.”

Instead of his usual ten minutes in the shower, it takes him about a good half hour before you could actually hear the bathroom door opening.

You grab the first aid kit from the cupboard, and just as you head to the couch, you let out a low breath.

The pro hero is oddly silent, settled on the plush surface with half his body exposed to the cool air. But it’s not his toned abs nor imposing pecs that surprised you, you’re used to them after all.

It’s the sight of purple bruises, fresh lacerations, and deep gashes that scares you. There’s even a deep cut that is superimposed on the scars he had back in highschool.

You opt to sit beside him, your eyebrows in a deep furrow as you regard him.

“Shit, Kats. What the hell happened?”

“You didn’t see the news?” He huffs.

“No? I’m a university slave. I’ve got no time for the outside world.”

Bakugo scoffs, and suddenly he feels normal again. “That’s why you’ve turned our apartment into your shitty cave. There was a villain, alright?”

You start with gentle dabs of antiseptic and ointment around his torso, your eyes focused.

“Of course, it’s a villain. It’s either that or a truck hit you.” You grumble. “You’re feeling like shit and you look like one too.”

“Fuck you. It was a high-class one, alright? Even Half-and-Half and Shitty Hair didn’t come out unscathed.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that you’re going on an important call?” You look up to catch his molten stare.

“What could you have done?” He rolls his eyes. “You might as well makeout with your laptop screen this morning. You wouldn’t want another stress on your plate.”

You frown, realizing he was right. “I know. But still. All of these wounds are too much. You could have gotten yourself checked in the hospital–”

“Look.” His warm hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you from doing much else. It’s a hot touch. A reminder that he’s still alive despite what had happened.

“Just–be quiet. I came home to you in one piece, didn’t I? And you got that paper submitted” He murmurs, eyes drooping closed as he leans in and presses his nose against your cheek. “Stop nagging me.”

His words sent your heart to your throat, and it also sucked out all the fight left in you.

“But still…” You mumble, defeated as you let him tuck his head on your shoulders. “You’re infuriating. Coming home looking like crap then cuddling me when you’ve never even taken me out on a date yet.”

There’s a throaty snort from his lips as he kisses your cheek.

“Some dumbass told me they’re unavailable this semester.”

You grumble, tilting your head to the side to feel more of him. “Shut up.”

He pulls away slightly, just to look at you with soft eyes. “How about this Saturday?”

“Hm?”

“This weekend. Let me take you out.” He brushes his knuckle against our cheekbone ever-so-slightly.

“With a gun, preferably.”

“Fuckass. I meant that new restaurant you’ve been dying to try.”

You laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders as he presses a kiss to your mouth–sure and steady. Just like he always is at any given time of the day.

“Okay.” You whisper against his lips.

With the first aid kit long forgotten, you tentatively wrap your arms around his neck.

His palm splays over your back, and just as you feel yourself hit the surface of the couch, his mouth halts its mold on your lips.

Bakugo pulls away just slightly, and it takes every fiber of your being not to chase his mouth with yours. ”Is… is that smoke I smell?”

“Oh, shit! The stove!”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #polaris.piece #banner: koiwa station

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arcticdementor · 22 hours ago

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Okay:

NOT EVERYTHING IS A MESSAGING PROBLEM YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY GOVERN

Actually, what the 20th century teaches us — as explicated by the likes of Bernays and McLuhan — is that with modern mass media systems, maintaining power in an ostensibly-Democratic society is pretty much entirely a marketing problem. Control the information everyone receives, and the narratives they use to make sense of it, and the channels through which people might coordinate, and you'll get a mostly-compliant population, and the non-compliant unable to coordinate well enough to pose a meaningful threat. Like the bull charging the flapping cape, they'll channel their action into the meaningless clown show that is "democratic politics," and ignore all the groups and institutions where power actually resides.

To point to the single most obvious policy failure: combining high levels of immigration with significant prohibitions on housing construction, and thus bringing in people without any place to put them and driving rents into the stratosphere

And if you're an elite, what's wrong or "insane" about this policy, exactly?

reflects the absence of a human being at the top of the system who can and will say "this combination is insane" and change one or both policies

I note that this does not mean the absence of human beings at the top of the system who could do this, just the absence of those who are willing to do so. And if such people are there, then consider why they aren't doing this.

I will point again to my "car speeding past obvious cop" analogy. You think these elites are missing a problem that is, to you, obvious. But you're a random nobody, and they're, well, elites. They have access to plenty of "insider" information you don't. So why are you so confident that they're the ones missing the cop car, rather than you being the one not noticing the diplomatic plates? Have you considered that they might have good reasons for not caring about the consequences — including "backlash" — of pursuing this "insane combination" of policies?

If you cannot build infrastructure due to permitting, then you SHOULD capitulate on permitting reform.

Here, I will link my third-highest-voted Motte post, on understanding the nature and motivation of the "Blue Tribe," and quote this portion:

Mencken defined "Puritanism" as "the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy," but a better definition might be "haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be doing wrong." You are your brother's keeper (after all, remember the origin and context of that phrase). "Let not any one pacify his conscience by the delusion that he can do no harm if he takes no part, and forms no opinion. Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing." "An injustice anywhere is an injustice everywhere." And so on. A friend of mine once told me, years ago, about how a coworker of his came in one Monday morning teary-eyed and demanding a meeting so that the business could decide what they were going to do, collectively, to help address the plight of the Rohingya. A week ago, this woman had never heard of them, and probably wouldn't have been able to locate Myanmar on a map. But she saw a news report about them, and that was enough for her to feel the burning need not only to "do something" herself, but to recruit everyone else she knows to do the same. It's something I see all the time online "you don't want to intervene in [bad thing X]? Then you obviously approve of [X]!" Don't want to send more into Ukraine? Then you must think the Russian invasion was 100% justified, you Putin boot-licker! There is a certain kind of person for whom moral disapproval and the drive to intervene are one and the same thing, inseparable. To them, a lack of a burning need to stop a thing is proof that you don't actually disapprove of it. It's the classic stereotype of the D&D Paladin played badly: "see evil, smite evil." They are constitutionally incapable of shrugging and saying "none of my business." And the Blue Tribe is full of them. Consider every missionary of an evangelizing, expansionist faith who has set out to convert the heathen — by fire and sword if necessary — because it's their duty, it's the right thing to do, and it's for the heathen's own good. If you have the One True Faith, the true set of Universal Human Rights, the Objectively Correct Morality, then you have a duty to spread and enforce it everywhere you can. Why fight the Red Tribe? Because if you don't, you are complicit in every wrong they do. If you let the Red Tribe keep being transphobic rather than try to stop them, then the blood of every trans kid in a Red Tribe area who commits suicide is on your hands. Like Kendi says, you are either actively anti-racist, or you are racist. It's one or the other. You are either fighting evil, or you are evil.

To change these policies is to compromise with evil, which is to be evil, because to be good, you must fight evil. You're asking them to actively participate in either the far-right evil of anti-immigrant xenophobia, the bigotry of treating human beings differently just because of which side of an imaginary line they were born on, of a government that does not provide the equitable treatment of all people within its area of administration. That, or to participate in evils like destroying the environment, increasing the portion of Mother Earth being ruined by humans; in gentrification; in allowing greedy capitalist real estate developers (like Orange Hitler) to earn profit on the same, and so on.

What part of "you don't defeat Nazi's by adopting and enacting Nazi policies (you become one that way)" is unclear? If mass immigration is morally obligatory, and NIMBY is morally obligatory, then their combination is morally obligatory, and thus the negative consequences of that combination are necessarily just. And if justice makes you unhappy, that's your problem, and you need to reexamine your morals (or lack thereof).

Good must be done, evil must be fought. Fiat justitia ruat caelum.\

What part of that is unclear to you?

things they promised you and refused to deliver

You say that like it's a problem. What reason do left-wing elites have to deliver on these promises? What consequences for refusing to deliver could they ever have to worry about?

The Democratic base are already too loyal. The Democrats already (implicitly) promise things they can't deliver, and fail to deliver things (like construction projects) that they could deliver if they tried. They already eschew the opinions of swing voters.

Yes, and they still hold all the institutions that matter despite these, the meaningless, fake pro-wrestling clown show that is Trump's second term notwithstanding.

We can imagine there being "current social norms" and "the potential social norms that the currently underlying production base could support," and when these two things become too distant, it creates a source of political potential energy that a vanguard of intellectuals and political leaders can transform into a political movement, in either direction.

You sat that as if those "political movements" can actually make a meaningful difference themselves, rather than as tools for the ruling elite. The people who rule have all the power, they haven't gone anywhere, they aren't going to go anywhere, and there's nothing you can do about them.

They want medicine rationed by political race categories? Then — no matter how much you don't like it, no matter what you write online, no matter how you vote — medicine is getting rationed by race. Period. There's no fighting it. Accept total defeat, and give up.

Accept total defeat. Give up.

ACCEPT TOTAL DEFEAT. GIVE UP.

If the dominant view is that the world is flat, then being a revolutionary means replacing this model with the view that the Earth is round, causing a net gain. If the dominant view is that the Earth is round, then being a revolutionary means replacing this correct view with a random new incorrect one, resulting in a net loss.

Net gain and loss in material well-being, yes? But if what you care about is social status and power over your fellow humans — "better to rule in hell than serve in heaven" and all that — then that "net loss" in the latter situation is still a gain for you if it maintains your hold on power.

Under those circumstances, the correct move for the establishment party (in this case, Democrats) would be to focus on running the machine well (as they (in theory) have the advantage in this due to expertise), while initiating a broad search for potential improvements.

Again, why should they bother? What does not doing this cost them, except meaningless elections that don't actually affect anything?

Forcing a bad investment will create natural opposition.

Why should elites care about creating "natural opposition"? Medieval rulers generated "natural opposition" all the time. Peasants are revolting yet again? Just send out some knights to crush them all. And warfare in the past century plus has been even more capital-intensive (as opposed to labor-intensive), ever more in the favor of large centralized governments with deep pockets, than it was in the Middle Ages. "Guerrillas" and "popular resistance" almost always lose (particularly when the professional soldiers are being supported in crushing them, rather than being held back by politicians more sympathetic to the guerrillas).

Governing is where Trump is weak. Governing is, in theory, where the Democratic establishment is strong.

Because the merely-elected "government" is not what does the actual governing. This isn't just true for Trump, but for any Republican president. Elections don't matter.

It feels to me like the lesson the Democrats ought to be taking from Trump is,

"Build loyalty in your base and swing for the fences because the worst that will happen is you fall out of power for one term"

But the actual lesson they seem to be taking is that maybe craven capitulation will make them look better because Americans completely changed their politics over the last four years and will surely never change them again.

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jollyhunter · 9 hours ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐧

Puffy parted lips make way for a guttural moan. Hips roll up to meet you with languid motions, drawing out every thrust. Slow, deep and steady strokes. Thick swollen tip pushed in and out, pulled along your tight walls all the way up until he rams your cervix and back down until your tight muscles grip onto him.

Eyes flit across the ceiling and dive under your eyelids. Another, louder groan echoes through your bedroom at your family’s house.

“Shhh-“ Calloused fingers lock your jaw closed, choking back a whimper of yours. Dean's thumb pulls at the tip of your lower lip, his gravel voice low and yet enough to shaken your breath. “You’re so vocal, baby - but you gotta keep it down. I don’t wanna get a speech of your dad in the morning.”

Your lips chase his thumb as he draws it down your chin, catching it between your teeth and pulling it in like you’d just trapped your prey.

A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his chest when your lips tightly wrap around his knuckle joint and you start to lick and suck on his coarse digit.

The vibration travels down to your core, tingling, sending a shiver across your body. The growl is a warning as much as a grudging praise. Green orbs flash up at your cheeky smile. Like you’re testing his authority, poking the wolf.

And he fucking loves it.

You were playful. And dirty. You challenge him. And to him, you were deadly.

“C’mon my sweet little vixen.” He coos with a mock-innocent expression when he notices your depleting energy. “You can do one more for me, can’t ya?”

You nod, your eyes halfway hidden behind your heavy eyelids. You were somewhere caught in a state of lust and drowsiness. Your hips rock against his hardness that's buried deep within you, but you lack any rhythm.

And it wasn't really a surprise, seeing as Dean's fingers had just lured you out of your sleep not too long ago.

Parts of you wondered why you were even up here right now. Straddling your boyfriend’s hips in this ungodly hour. Would you have been more rational, you'd have never agreed to this. The knowledge of your parents sleeping two doors down the corridor, while you were riding him inside you? God no.

But it didn't take much incentive to coax - what Dean called your 'sweet little vixen' - out of you.

Fingertips had stroked you up and down, parting your folds, and a rough thumb had flicked across your sensitive bundle of nerves until his hand began to soak in your slick. His nose had brushed along your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. Meanwhile his teeth had skimmed your skin in ways that sent a dangerous shiver down your spine.

Your breath had quickly turned heavy and laced with soft, shy moans that slipped past your sleep. Moments later you found yourself on top of Dean's. Riding his bucking hips as well as you could in your drowsy state.

Another moan of yours gets muffled by Dean's thumb still jammed in your mouth. He had roughly snapped his hips up to coax those sweet sounds from your throat. But also, Dean had noticed how you were barely holding onto your wake mind.

Your hooded eyes keep rolling back with soft whimpers and your legs are shaking like they had been riding a bull for the past half an hour.

"C'mon little vixen, don't tap out on me now." He chuckles lowly, his lips quirked into a sly smirk as he watches you try to regain your balance on top of his bucking hips.

You slump forward and bring your hands down on his chest. And Dean's heart skips a beat when he could swear that he’d caught a glimpse of you narrowing your eyes at him, a smile flashing across your lips. And you did.

Long claws leave red marks in their wake as you rake them down Dean's chest. He hisses from the pain, his eyes narrowed at you with a warning glare. But this wolf couldn't fool you with his snarls, and you both knew it.

"Careful there," he adds in a verbal warning, his voice dropped an octave.

Your lips pull into a tired smile as you lean down to whisper something into his ear. And Dean lets out groan at your dirty sex talk.

To the world outside of this intimate act of yours, you were a shy, innocent girl. For strangers, an introverted pretty girl and for your family, the perfect, little angel.

But in his touch you turned into a sex-drunk, confident and bold woman. Kinky, naughty, and oh so willing to be taken any time by him. You were his clever, sassy, little vixen. Only his to take.

The thought of him being the only one allowed to see this side of yours... Knowing that he could coax that little vixen out of you. That you were nothing like you made the world believe, nothing close to the innocent image you had. That he was able to corrupt you in the most beautiful way possible. That you'd trust him enough to let him witness this downright sinful side of yours…

...It all turned him on, made him proud. Made his lips pull into a wolfish grin of satisfaction.

You were like a fox trapped in the jaws of a wolf. And you relished it. The knowledge that only he was the harbour of your beast. Only he held the key to get it out.

Only you held the privilege that he could snap you in half in a heartbeat - like anyone who'd just look at you the wrong way - but never would. Only you could be rest assured that he’d never bite you.

Only you could roll him over onto his back and have him whimper.

Dean pulls his thumb from your mouth, both his hands gripping onto your hips now in a merciless grip. When your eyes meet, he bucks his hips. His hard length gets slammed inside you, triggering a surprised whine from you that pulls his lips into a satisfied smug grin.

When your hips try to pull away, his large hands pull you down to meet his next thrust with your core flush against his pelvis and his tip bruising your cervix.

You whimper, buckle and fall forward. Your forehead comes to rest on the reddened marks on his chest while your fingers claw at his shoulder where you hold onto him.

Whimpers of yours mingle with his grunts and groans as he rides you both towards your climax. His fingers dig into your flesh when he notices you shaking, holding you close as your walls start to flutter around his cock. His tight grip was leaving you no chance for escape, leaving you completely at his mercy. And you loved it.

You could squirm in his jaws, knowing the fangs that surrounded you would never pierce you. Fangs that held you down but never back. Jaws that didn’t keep you in but others out.

You tamed the wolf that has seen through your innocence. The only man who’s allowed to tame your secret wild spirit.

A/N: A "BadWolf!Dean x SweetVixen!Reader" drabble I had to get out of my system ahhh I've been holding onto this thought for way too long. Idk yet where this is going or whether anybody else needed this lmao, but you're welcome if you did. Also I'm sorry I didn't get to proofread or anything I just typed this out on the way to work. I still have so much to catch up on with all your writings!! I hope I’ll get the time to reply, read and comment on them all on the weekend! <3

EDIT: Not me changing the head banner 'cuz that one image had to be edited

Dean tag list:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell

#dean winchester #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #soft dom! dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #spn x reader #dean x you #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #spn reader insert #spn x you #supernatural smut

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my-religion-greek-myth · 2 days ago

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Freedom far away - R

Happy Lunar New Year! I've been struggling with my life, which has kept me busy since the end of last year. One of my favourite movies is Howl's Moving Castle.

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Warning: Imply of miscarriage may be disturbing to some readers

The days after your awakening passed in a blur of quiet moments, whispered reassurances, and an undercurrent of unspoken tension. Though your body was still sore, Rio and Agatha’s unwavering care surrounded you like a protective shield. Each of them had their own way of comforting you—Agatha with her sharp, focused attention and Rio with her softer, playful banter. The two were always by your side, except for brief moments when one would leave to attend to something urgent, though you suspected they never went far.

It was during one of these quiet evenings, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, that the conversation shifted to the future.

“We’ve closed all the gates,” Agatha said, her voice calm but resolute as she stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the star-filled expanse of their realm. “All except one.”

You sat curled up in a plush chair near the fire, Rio’s hand resting lightly on your knee. “The one to my city?” you asked, your voice still hoarse but gaining strength.

Agatha turned to face you, her sharp blue eyes meeting yours. “Yes. It’s heavily warded—no one can pass through it uninvited.” Her lips tightened before she added, “I left it for you. If you ever decide to see your sister…or your brother again.”

The mention of your siblings brought a pang of emotion, both longing and apprehension. You hadn’t seen them since that fateful night, and while part of you yearned to reconnect, another part feared what lay beyond the safety of this world.

Rio’s grip on your knee tightened ever so slightly. “It’ll be there when you’re ready, love,” she said, her voice warm and steady.

For a moment, silence settled over the room, broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire. You glanced between the two women who had become your everything, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For everything.”

Agatha crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling beside your chair. Her hand brushed against your cheek, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t need to thank us,” she said softly, her sharp features gentled by the vulnerability she rarely showed. “This is your home now, just as much as it’s ours.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “It means more than you know.”

-------

The decision to move wasn’t born out of dissatisfaction; it was born out of love. Agatha and Rio wanted to show you the world, to remind you that life existed beyond the safety of their sanctuary. That quiet realm would always be there, a constant in your lives, but they both knew it wasn’t enough. You deserved to see and experience more, to step beyond the comfortable boundaries you’d built around yourself since your awakening.

It was Agatha who brought it up one evening, her sharp eyes softened by the flickering firelight. “You’ve spent enough time hiding away from who you are,” she said, her voice steady but tender. “We want to show you the world, on your terms, of course. Somewhere you can come and go as you please.”

Rio, lounging beside you as usual, added with a grin, “And what better way than with a house infused with our magic? One that can take us wherever we need to be. A little taste of adventure, with none of the hassle.”

You glanced between them, your heart swelling with gratitude. They had already given you so much, and now they were offering this—a home that could be a gateway to the world. “I’d like that,” you said softly, your voice laced with quiet excitement. “I’d like to see what’s out there.”

The house came to life with their combined magic, every inch of it woven with care and intention. It was cosy, with dark wood beams and stone walls, the kind of place that immediately felt lived in. A fire always burned warmly in the hearth, and the scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered in the air. It was a sanctuary in its own right—but its true wonder lay in the door.

Crafted from enchanted wood, the door stood at the centre of the house, marked with four distinct sigils. Each sigil represented a different place, and with a simple turn of the handle, the door would shift to reveal a new world beyond its frame.

-------

The first sigil led to a seaside town, its air thick with the scent of salt and brine. The fish market buzzed with life, vendors calling out their wares as boats bobbed in the harbour. The waves crashed rhythmically against the docks, a soothing melody that followed you wherever you went.

The first time you stepped through the door, the scent of salt and brine filled your lungs, crisp and bracing. A gust of wind carried the calls of seagulls overhead, their cries mingling with the distant chatter of merchants. The cobbled streets beneath your feet were damp from the ocean spray, and before you even took another step, Rio stretched her arms over her head and grinned.

"Now this is more like it," she sighed, closing her eyes as if soaking in the very essence of the town.

Agatha, standing at your side, remained composed as always, but there was an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in her sharp blue eyes. "It’s a working town," she noted, scanning the busy port ahead. "You’ll like it here."

And she was right.

The town was alive with movement—fishermen unloading crates of fresh seafood from their boats, shopkeepers arranging their displays, children running barefoot along the docks with wind-tangled hair and sunburnt cheeks. The market was the heart of it all, bursting with energy as people haggled, laughed, and shared stories over counters stacked high with glistening fish, fragrant spices, and woven baskets filled with dried seaweed.

Rio, always drawn to the livelier parts of a place, immediately made herself at home. You watched as she leaned over a stall, chatting with an old woman selling skewered seafood grilled over hot coals. Moments later, she returned, passing you one without hesitation.

"Eat," she said simply, grinning as she took a bite of her own.

The taste was smoky and rich, laced with a hint of salt from the sea air. Warmth settled in your chest as you chewed, watching Rio’s excitement as she scanned the stalls for the next thing to try. Agatha, ever the observer, simply took it all in, her gaze lingering on you every so often, as if assessing how you were adjusting.

That evening, you stood by the docks, watching the waves crash gently against the wooden posts. The lanterns swayed in the breeze, their golden light reflected in the dark water below. The town was nothing like the realm you had come from, but it was beautiful in its own way—alive, untamed, full of stories waiting to be told.

"You don’t have to love it right away," Agatha murmured beside you, her voice low and steady. "But you should at least give it a chance."

You exhaled, the weight in your chest loosening just a little.

"I think I already do."

-------

The second sigil opened to a meadow of wildflowers, vibrant and unending. The breeze carried the sweet aroma of blossoms, and the grass seemed to shimmer under the golden sunlight. In the evenings, fireflies lit up the horizon, painting the scene in soft, glowing hues. It was a place of serenity, where time seemed to stretch and still.

The transition from the bustling seaside to the meadow was almost jarring. One moment, you were surrounded by the salty tang of the ocean; the next, you were enveloped in the scent of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers.

The world stretched out before you in endless shades of green and gold, rolling hills blanketed in vibrant blossoms. The sky overhead was impossibly blue, the clouds drifting lazily as if they, too, had nowhere to be.

Rio spun in a slow circle, arms wide, breathing in deeply. "This," she declared, "is paradise."

And it was.

The meadow was quiet, but not silent—birds chirped from the nearby trees, the wind whispered through the tall grass, and somewhere in the distance, a small brook babbled over smooth stones. The ground was soft beneath your feet, and the sheer openness of the space made it feel like you had stepped into a dream.

Agatha led the way to a lone tree near the crest of a hill, its thick branches offering shade from the warm sunlight. It became your spot almost instantly, a place to lay back and watch the clouds shift, to listen to the rustling leaves and let your mind wander.

Days here passed slowly, unhurried and peaceful. Rio would chase after butterflies with mock seriousness, her laughter echoing through the open fields. Agatha would find a quiet spot to clean her dusty tomes or read, though she was always aware of everything happening around her. And you… you simply existed in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

At night, the meadow transformed. The fireflies came first, glowing softly as they flitted through the grass, like tiny stars that had fallen from the sky. The air cooled, carrying the distant hoot of an owl, and the world became something utterly magical.

One evening, as you lay beneath the tree with Rio’s head resting in your lap, Agatha sat beside you, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt.

"You like it here," she observed.

You smiled, watching as Rio dozed peacefully, the fireflies reflecting in her dark hair. "Yeah," you admitted. "I really do."

And just like that, the meadow became another home.

-------

The third sigil brought you to the bustling heart of a foreign capital city. Streets teemed with life, the hum of countless conversations blending with the music of street performers. Market stalls overflowed with treasures from around the world, and towering buildings framed the sky, glowing with lanterns and lights as night fell. It was a place of discovery and excitement, where new adventures awaited at every turn.

If the seaside was full of life and the meadow was a place of peace, then the capital city was pure energy.

The door opened to a narrow alleyway, its walls adorned with vibrant posters in a language you couldn’t read. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling street food, smoke curling into the fire-lit sky. Beyond the alley, the streets pulsed with life—vendors shouting their wares, musicians strumming their instruments, carriages and horses weaving through the crowded roads.

Rio practically vibrated with excitement. "Now this is my kind of place."

Agatha, on the other hand, immediately fell into observation mode, her gaze sweeping the streets, calculating every possible escape route, every place someone could hide a weapon.

You simply took it all in.

There was something intoxicating about the city—the way the streets pulsed like veins, the way the people moved like they were part of something bigger than themselves. Every corner held something new—smoky teahouses hidden behind plain wooden doors, underground bookshops where rare tomes were traded like secrets, towering palaces that stood in stark contrast to the chaos below.

You spent your days exploring, tasting foods you couldn’t name, losing yourselves in the twisting streets. Rio thrived in the chaos, always darting ahead to see what was around the next corner. Agatha remained at your side, her steady presence keeping you grounded in the overwhelming tide of sound and colour.

One night, as you stood on a high balcony overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city, you found yourself smiling.

"You don’t seem overwhelmed," Agatha remarked, studying you with quiet curiosity.

You turned to her, feeling the hum of the city beneath your feet. "I think… I like it here," you admitted. "It’s alive."

And for the first time in a long while, so were you.

And the fourth sigil—the one that meant the most—always brought you home. Back to their realm, their sanctuary. No matter how far you travelled, how much you explored, there was always a door waiting to take you back to the place where you were safe, where you were loved.

The sanctuary was unchanged, its quiet presence as steady as ever. The familiar trees, the ever-burning hearth, the way the realm hummed with power—it was your anchor, your foundation.

But as you stood before the door, ready to choose your next destination, you realised something: you weren’t the same person who had stepped through it the first time.

Agatha had been right. You had spent too long hiding away. But now, you had seen the world, breathed in its air, tasted its stories. And you weren’t done yet.

With a glance at Rio and Agatha, you reached for the door.

"Where to next?"

-------

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as the three of you sat together, the warmth of the flames casting long shadows across the room. You rested between Agatha and Rio, your head on Rio’s shoulder while Agatha’s fingers played absently with yours. The comfort of their presence was as familiar as the rhythm of your own heartbeat, yet tonight, something unspoken lingered in the air.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began softly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavered slightly, and you took a steadying breath. “About…about the baby.”

The room seemed to still, even the flames quieting their dance. Rio’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, and Agatha’s fingers stilled against yours.

“I didn’t even know,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And because I didn’t know…I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t protect what was ours.”

Rio leaned down, her lips brushing against the top of your head. “You didn’t fail them,” she said quietly, her voice filled with conviction. “What happened wasn’t your fault, love.”

Agatha’s grip on your hand tightened. “You didn’t even have the chance to know,” she murmured, her voice unusually soft. “And it was stolen from all of us.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you turned to look at her, meeting her sharp blue eyes. “I can’t help but feel like I failed,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “Like I failed you both.”

Agatha reached out, her other hand brushing against your cheek. “You didn’t fail us,” she said firmly. “And you didn’t fail them. What happened was because of him, not you.”

Rio’s voice, low and soothing, joined in. “We can’t change what happened. But what we can do is honour them by building the future they couldn’t have.”

You blinked back tears, your gaze shifting between the two women who had become your world. “Do you really think…we could have children? Even after everything?”

A soft smile curved Agatha’s lips, her usual sharpness tempered by something tender. “Of course, we can,” she said. “And this time, we’ll protect them. Together.”

Rio chuckled lightly, her dark eyes twinkling with affection. “We’ve already shown we’re excellent at protecting what’s ours,” she teased, her tone playful. “Why not add a few more to the mix?”

A small laugh escaped you despite the heaviness in your heart. “You make it sound so easy,” you said, shaking your head.

“It won’t be easy,” Agatha admitted, her fingers brushing against yours again. “But nothing worth having ever is.”

Rio shifted slightly, turning so she could meet your gaze fully. “Do you want this, love?” she asked, her tone serious now. “Do you want to try for children? Because if you do, we’ll make it happen.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want it, but because the weight of the decision felt so immense. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do. I want that. I want to build something with you both. A family.”

Agatha leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Then it’s settled,” she said, her voice steady and certain. “We’ll try.”

Rio’s grin returned wide and mischievous. “And you know,” she said, her tone turning playful, “with Agatha’s particular talents and my…creative enthusiasm, we’re bound to succeed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free despite the lingering ache in your chest. “I’m going to regret agreeing to this, aren’t I?” you teased, your eyes shining affectionately.

Agatha smirked, her fingers trailing along your hand. “Only a little,” she said. “But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Rio pulled you closer, her lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll make sure of that,” she promised softly.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the ache in your heart began to ease, replaced by a fragile but growing hope. As the three of you sat together, the firelight illuminating the room, you allowed yourself to dream of what could be—a future filled with love, laughter, and the family you’d create together.

Agatha, her expression soft but with a mischievous glint in her eye, broke the silence with a playful suggestion. “Why wait? We could start now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could reply, Rio stood with you in her arms in one smooth motion, lifting you effortlessly. Her grin was devilish, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I like the way you think,” she said, her tone playful yet warm.

“Rio!” you shrieked, laughter bubbling up as you tried to push her away, though your protests were half-hearted. “Not now!”

Agatha chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “You’re lucky we adore you,” she teased, her tone light but filled with affection.

Rio’s laugh was rich and infectious as she gently set you back on your feet, her hands lingering on your waist. “Fine, fine,” she relented, though the mischievous glint in her eye remained. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily.”

Still laughing, you shook your head, warmth blooming in your chest as you looked between them. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but in that moment, surrounded by their love and laughter, you felt ready to face it.

Agatha and Rio’s magic had created something extraordinary—a home that moved with you, a gateway to endless possibilities. And as you stood in the cosy living room, surrounded by the warmth of the hearth and the steady presence of the two women who had become your everything, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

This wasn’t just a house. It was freedom. It was love. It was the start of something new.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x rio #rio vidal #fem reader

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ll7esxs · 3 days ago

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꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

How they act when they don't like you....and why?

characters: logan walker, Hesh walker, Elias walker, Keegan russ, Thomas merrick, Kick

X teammate reader! [requested]

i had fun writing this

notes: harash or being mean to the reader, me saying daddy to elias because i am misbehaved

Logan walker:

Bro doesn't like anyone here he is just sticking to his daddy and hesh, well i mean as a social he doesn't like them or not caring about them.

but the reason he would not like you is because you are reckless and logan is all about discipline and precision.

He started knowing that when you charge into a room without checking corners and dude really got annoyed.

it got nearly killed for both of you but logan managed to save your live and his, Then he gave you that look screams "get a job".

Logan is a calculated, quiet soldier who thrives on efficiency. If you’re impulsive, sloppy, or too loud, it would frustrate him. He might see you as someone who doesn’t respect the seriousness of the mission.

but honestly he just got away from you only sitting next to hesh like everyday you will find him there

he is a silent judger Logan’s not one to vocalize his dislike openly. Instead, he’d give you subtle signs—cold stares, no nod of acknowledgment when you’re around.

You’d feel like an outsider just because of how much he doesn’t engage. His silence would sting more than words.

I don't think he would be mean to you with words and beinf harash but at the base If you sit at the same table during downtime, Logan gets up and moves somewhere else without saying a word in case you wanna talk to him and he doesn't want to.

The only "conversation" you might get from him is a blank stare when you ask for help with your gear.

Hesh walker:

Oh man he is the opposite from logan he will be open with his comments on you

the reason is because you don't take his order seriously or challenging him like i see him like this

he is a lieutenant how dare you not listening to him but listening to merrick's orders.

Hesh is loyal to his family and the team, and he expects everyone to respect the chain of command.

If you question leadership, brush off directives, or act like a know-it-all, Hesh would get heated fast.

maybe you have this audacity to argue with your teammates about a job or a patrol, it wasn't your time for a patrol so you got mad and start arguing " I don't understand i did this 4 time already in the same damn location!"

which lead hesh to snap “We don’t have time for your ego! Do your job, or I’ll find someone who will.” calm down bby

he wouldn't hold back his frustration but he would mask it with sarcasm

"look who finally decided to show up! Did you actually bring ammo this time, or should I do your job too?" bitch

He’d complain about you to the others when you’re not around, but it would always come back to you somehow.

Hesh throws constant jabs at your performance.“Wow, you actually hit something this time. Let me guess, blind luck?”

at the base he finds every opportunity to one up you If you’re telling a story about a killstreak, he’ll interrupt with, “Pfft, that’s nothing. Last week, I cleared a whole building solo.”

bro wanna just let out his frustration 😭

Elias walker: (Ok help i didn't find a gif)

he would not like you no he is not that emotional type man.

the reason is your lack discipline or don’t meet his expectations.

he want someone to be trusted in the team and he doesn't find this in you maybe you got nervous or something but he doesn't really care.

As a leader, Elias demands excellence. If you’re not pulling your weight, making mistakes under pressure, or putting the team at risk, Elias would start seeing you as a liability.

You botch an important mission step, forcing the squad to improvise. Afterward, Elias says, “You need to decide if you want to be part of this team. Because right now, I don’t see it.”

he is giving the disappointed dad vibe As the squad leader, Elias would make his disappointment known without outright hostility.

“You’re not giving me much to work with here. This team relies on everyone pulling their weight.” whatever you say daddy

He’d put you on blast in front of the others but in a way that feels more like a father scolding their kid.

He’d constantly put you on remedial tasks or double-check everything you do. You’d feel like you’re being babysat.

I see elias is harash in his training i mean look at hesh and logan they didn't become this skillful that easy it was elias wild training.

So Elias doesn’t hesitate to use you as bait just to toughen you up.“You’re fast, right? Go flush them out, and we’ll cover you.” then leaving you scrambling for survival.

Elias constantly gives you extra drills to "improve."“You’re staying behind. Practice clearing that room until you can do it without screwing up. The rest of us have real work to do.”

Even if you complete the drills, he finds something wrong with your execution.

Keegan russ:

He won't show it too but he will mask it with sarcasm too especiall with his short comments that made you wanna tackle him to the ground and fight him

the reason: You’re not dependable, or you’re too emotional.Keegan values professionalism esp in the ghosts team and doesn’t tolerate people who let emotions cloud their judgment.

If you hesitate under fire, panic, or fail to stay focused, Keegan would see you as a weak link.

you blowed the cover with a noise you made accidentally he doesn't yell he would just go with “Next time, stay quiet. Or don’t come at all.” coldly.

Keegan is the cold, no-nonsense type, so he’d probably flat-out ignore you.

If you mess up, you’d get that icy glare that says “You’re lucky I don’t deal with you right here.”

He’d keep his interactions with you strictly professional and minimal, using only hand signals or one-word commands.

he is all about manipulatescretly like If you’re in danger, he’d hesitate just long enough to make you sweat before helping he just want you to know you're dealing with danger.

polishes his weapons near you but doesn’t say a word. If you ask him a question, you get a curt, dismissive response.“What ammo works best with the MK14?”

“The kind that hits the target. Try it sometime.”

“We need to breach on three. the walkers—you’re with me. y/n, just hang back and don’t get in the way.” BITCH??😭😭

Thomas merrick:

You haven’t earned his respect Merrick is a seasoned veteran who respects competence and loyalty above all. If you’re new, inexperienced, or overconfident.

Merrick might see you as someone who needs to prove themselves first—and he won’t go easy on you.

You try to take the lead during a mission, and it goes south. Merrick pulls you aside afterward:“You want to lead? Earn it. Until then, know your place.”

Merrick is a no-BS guy. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll tell you to your face.“You’re a liability. If you want to stay on this team, you’d better step up, or you’re out.”

Merrick would constantly test you, setting you up for challenges to prove yourself, but his standards would be brutally high.

He’d always keep an eye on you, but not out of trust—more to make sure you don’t screw things up.

Merrick makes his disdain clear during mission briefings.“Stick to the basics, y/n. Don’t overthink it, and for God’s sake, don’t try to be a hero.”

If you lag behind, he turns around, arms crossed, and barks, “Move your ass, or I’ll leave you to catch up!”

Merrick has zero patience for your questions.“Why didn’t you clear the room faster earlier?” you stood up facing him

“Because you didn’t do your damn job. Next question.”

He doesn’t sugarcoat anything and frequently suggests you’re not Ghost material.

Kick:

You don’t adapt quickly or fail to learn from mistakes. Kick is efficient and prefers to stay out of drama.

If you repeatedly make the same mistakes, don’t take advice, or need constant hand-holding, Kick would lose patience with you.

he would start thinking how the hell you're in this team.

You forget to secure your gear before a mission, slowing down the squad. Kick shakes his head and mutters “Do I have to double-check everything you do?”

he is quite Reluctantly Helpful One, Kick is more on the reserved side, so he wouldn’t waste time expressing dislike.

He’d just do what needs to be done but with zero enthusiasm when it comes to working with you.

If you’re in trouble, you’d probably hear him mutter, “Of course, it’s you again.” But begrudgingly, he’d come through—just enough to keep you alive without making it feel like he cares.

Kick rarely speaks but makes his feelings known in other ways. For example, if you’re pinned down and yelling for cover fire, Kick shoots in the opposite direction first—just to make you sweat.

If you accidentally throw a grenade too close, Kick shakes his head and mutters, “Unbelievable.”

Kick avoids you but makes his annoyance clear when forced to interact.“Fix your weapon yourself. What are you gonna do in the field, call for me to hold your hand?” please do

If you’re paired with him during training, he sighs heavily every time you mess up.

once you tried to be kind with him finding a hard disc drive for his computer so he can plug it.

"hey kick check this out i found this" you said as you throw it to him expecting him to catch it which he did looking at it checking it out "thought you could be use of it"

he start checking it raising one eyebrow "maybe i will use it." he said looking at you blankly and you smiled simply at him.

"..."

"just kidding" he said putting it in his pocket which made your eyebrows hit each other in confusion.

"I don't like you" he said simply as he turned around to walk leaving you there mouth slightly opened from shock.

#call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #david hesh walker #hesh walker #logan walker #keegan p russ #elias walker #thomas merrick #kick call of duty #call of duty ghosts headcanons

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nieceeee · 1 day ago

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“I WONT BITE UNLESS YOU LIKE.”

P/N: Ony’s life was everything he dreamed it would be. His dream career. A community he loved and who loved him. He had it all. So how the hell did he end up damn near losing everything when he met you?...

AN: This took on a mind of its own. There will be a part two... Yeah... footballplayer!ony x vampiresuccubus!reader, blood mentioned, biting, NSFW so minors DNI, fem reader, I think thats all. dont ask me why, just enjoy lol

WC: 5.4K

Onyankopon was living the life of his dreams.

A first round draft pick running back for one of the top teams in the NFL. Every day he woke up, he was living life on the edge. The grueling practices, the preseasons, the traveling. It was exhausting but exhilarating and there was nothing more that could take the joy away from him. His life was simple. Wake up, Eat, Football, Repeat. Simple

Until he met you.

The night he saw you was the night everything changed and the world he knew would come to a complete halt. One simple act of kindness set him on a path he never thought existed and one he could never escape.

That night, the alley.

After another amazing win, Only and the team decided to go out and celebrate. Drinks flowed over the waves of the music in the hole in the wall bar that they loved to frequent. Everyone was having the time of their lives..well almost everyone. Between the thumping of the bass and the bodies colliding with one another, Ony’s head was spinning rapidly. He needed to breathe. A quick step outside just to clear my head was what he told himself as he pushed the heavy door and walked up the alley steps to get outside. It was supposed to be just a short breather and he would be back in before anyone realized he was gone. But as he walked a bit away from the entryway taking deep breaths, his brisk break was cut short by a strange, almost whimpering sound from around the corner alley.

At first he assumed he was hearing things. “It must’ve been the wind.” he mumbles under his breath. But then it came again, that broken cry curving around the brick wall he was standing next to. Ony’s pulse thumps in his throat as he inches closer to the direction of the noise. It was stupid, he knew that. Knowing damn well we never go towards the sounds of distress but something was pulling him there. The noise continues as he rounds the corner. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. A frail body huddled in the corner against the bricks, shoulders shaking in…fear? The cold? He didn't know but his heart lurched at the sight. As he walks closer he notices more of your features. Your hair is matted, pieces of debris stuck in your tangled mane. Dirt caked under your nails. Your dress a tattered rag of thin cotton. Only’s jaw clenches as he crouches low to meet your eye. “H-hey.” he speaks softly. You jump back at the sound of his voice. “Whoa whoa. It's okay. I-...I just want to help you up.” His hands are stretched out, palms facing you so you can see them. Your eyes stare at him and he can't help but note how beautiful they are even in this state. He slowly drops one hand, turning his palm to the sky, offering you help. You pause a moment but reach out to take it, allowing him to help you stand to your feet. Your legs shark from the weight so he offers more of himself to take the pressure off of you. As he assists you towards the street, he can’t help but notice your beauty in the chaos. Skin that seemed to glow under the moonlight. You were..mesmerizing. It stirs anger in his stomach. How the hell could this have happened?

Your bodies inch closer to the street, leaving the dark corner of the alley behind you. Suddenly, you hunch over in pain, releasing his hand and gripping your stomach as you whine again. “Shit. You okay? Can I h-help you get somewhere?” he stops and lifts you up again, checking you over. You fall in his arms, body weak and exhausted. “F-feed.” your voice comes out weak and raspy. His eyes go as wide as saucers. “I’m sorry?” he asks you, not hearing you clearly. “Feed.” you repeat. “Uh…” He isn’t sure what to do. Your tone is raw, like you’d been screaming but your tone was unique. Mythical. Foreign to his ears. “Feed? I…I’m not sure what you mean.” he looks around. The street was eerily quiet, no bodies moving like it would typically be on a Sunday night after a big win. Had he been in his right mind, Only would’ve realized this earlier but you shifted his focus. His attention is solely yours, the beautiful yet battered woman whose weak grip was on his thick arm. Feed? Is she trying to say she’s hungry? He thinks to himself. “There is a bar around the corner I can get you something to eat there if…” Ony doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before his body is tossed against the cold brick wall.

Before he could blink, you pin him. Your arm presses against his upper chest to hold him in place. Shock washes over his features at the drastic change in your strength. “Wha…what are you doing?” he attempts to push free but you press further, your hand coming up to tilt his head to the side. Your body glimmers as you press against him, running your nose up his neck. You glance up and look into his eyes and he could swear he saw golden spirals twirling in your irises. The intensity sends heat rushing through his blood, skin prickling as an odd sense of euphoria encompasses him. His heart hammers in his chest and confusion sparks in his mind as he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin as you lean forward into the crevice of his neck.

Then a pinch.

The elongated fangs pierce through his chocolatey dermis and his knees almost buckle. “Ah.” He breathes out. He was unable to move. Unable to speak. Time stands still as all of his senses are silenced, a surreal feeling covers his being as his eyes drift up to look at the night sky. It was bluer than he expected, stars shining brighter than before. Ony’s head rests against the wall as you gently pull from him, your power forcing his blood to continue to run hot. You feel your strength returning to you. Finally you groan internally. You were coming back into yourself. Swirls of your magic thrum through your body as his blood fills your belly. Ony, on the other hand, was locked into this place, eyes glossed over and arousal coursing through his veins. He shouldn’t feel like this. But the way your soft lips suckled against his skin, your subtle caressing of his neck. This must be your doing. There was no other reason for him to feel like this. He needed to pull away but he couldn't.

Instead he indulges in it, allowing you to feast. His chest rising and falling and the sounds of your gentle licks ringing in his ears.

When your hunger is satiated, you pull back. Your skin shines underneath the light of the moon, a breeze caressing your hair. Ony slumped a bit once he felt your teeth retract from his neck. Crimson streaks coated your lips like gloss. You drag your tongue across it, savoring the flavor. His neck still gushing, he feels himself getting weak. You dip back in, gliding your tongue across the mark, using rejuvenation to heal him and close the wound. “Fuck.” he hisses. His eyes flutter, vision blurred as he tries to focus on you. Once he manages to lift his head, your eyes meet one another. “Are you okay?” your voice wraps around his eardrums like silk, completely void of the strain from earlier. You help him stand back up, leaning his muscular body against the wall. “It wasn't my intention to hurt you.” you speak softly. He takes this time to look at you, really look at you. Damn you were ethereal. He thought to himself. Ony took note of everything from the shape of your eyes to the cut of your jaw and the fullness of your lips.

“The dizziness should wear off soon. And the…other...side effects.” you tease. If he were a lighter man, his face would be blood red from that statement. He didn't have to look, he could feel the strain against his jeans. Your eyes glance down and Ony swore he could see your eyes sparkle again. “Wh-what are you?” he manages to ask, breath heavy as he tries to maintain his balance. You give him a smile, the tips of your fangs sticking out slowly as you lean forward. “A figment of your imagination.” You whisper, your voice hypnotic to him. He takes a second to blink and when he opens his eyes again, you’re gone. Leaving him there confused and dazed. Ony stumbles his way back to the bar just as his teammates were coming out. “Ayeee there he is! We thought we lost you!” Reiner’s drunken voice shouts out, tossing an arm around his shoulder. ”I-..” He tries to catch himself but stumbles. “Whoa O, we got to get you home man.” Reiner laughs as they help him to the car.

The next morning Ony woke up, head throbbing. “Damn, remind me to never drink again.” He groans to himself. Last nights events toy with his mind. Was it real? He jumps in the shower to kickstart his body, his mind struggling to piece together reality. As he steps out of the shower and makes his way over to the sink, he sees it. A deep purple hickey on his chocolate skin with two tiny pierced holes decorate his neck.

“What the fuck.”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he inspected his body. His heart raced as he blinked a few times, attempting to register exactly what he was seeing. The tiny puncture wounds were barely visible to the naked eye but the hickey was so big, there was no way Ony was going to be able to keep this away from his teammates. “Fuck.” he repeated blinking and leaning into the mirror again to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “They gone be on my ass about this shit.” he groans. His alarm sounds jolting him from his train of thought, alerting him that he only had a few more minutes before he had to leave for practice. Bite mark out of his mind, he rushed to get himself together and head to the field.

“Boy what the hell did you get into last night?” a loud voice called from behind him as he took his jersey off. Practice had just wrapped up and Ony managed to keep everything under wraps. “What you mean?” he asked turning around to Connie. “You were throwed off yo ass last night. Rei had to damn near carry you to the car.” he nods at Ony. “Yeah, you came out around the corner and…Ony what the fuck is that?” Eren cuts through his own sentence. Ony’s brows furrow until it dawns on him. The fucking hickey. His hand slaps his neck but it was already too late. His teammates rush over to him, Reiner pulling his hand down as they inspect him. “Damn Ony, what did you get into?!” Connie teases. They pester him with questions and jokes, inquiring about the young lady that managed to get close enough to him. “It's not like that.” he attempts to explain but it's futile. They had already made up their minds about the mystery lady, asking questions that Ony himself couldn’t answer because he had no clue who…or what…you were. Or if he would ever see you again for that matter. His thoughts crafted visions of you after you had finished your feeding. Your golden aura seeping through your skin, eyes swirling with power.

Ony was perplexed.

Why did seeing you that way…turn him on. He wasn’t into hematolagnia by any means but the way your tongue slid across your crimson painted lips. It did something to him. Ony shook his head. She must have used something on me. I never would’ve acted like that on my own. He reassured himself. The heat from her hand that seared his skin wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced before. That must’ve been the reason he felt the way he did.

“She had to have put that shit on you if you can’t even speak about her in full sentences.” Eren teased, shaking his head at Ony. The heat dies down slowly but it doesn't stop his mind from wandering.

What the fuck were you?

After getting home, Ony hopped in the shower. His night going as it normally does. Come home, shower, study plays, eat then bed. Everything was back to normal. He let out a deep sigh as he climbed underneath the covers. “Okay Ony. It was just…a dream. Yeah, lets just say that.” he lied to himself and willed his body to sleep.

Your eyes appear in front of him causing him to jolt from him sleep. His gaze meets yours as you sit on top of him, legs straddled on either side of him as your hands press into his chest. “You…” he lets out. “Hello Onyankopon.” you whisper gently. Magic once again swirls from your fingertips into his blood stream. Ony’s blood starts pumping rapidly, rushing downward. “Fuck.” he groans, head falling back into the pillow. His fingers flex as he tries to remain calm. “Mmmm.” you let out, excitement coursing through your body. You lean down again and drag your nose against the opposite side of his neck. “W-wait. Please.” he calls out to you but your fangs had already extended and cut through his skin. Supple lips kissing against his skin as you feed from him once more. “Fuuuck.” you pull a moan from his lips. “Almost there baby.” your voice rings in his mind. His hands find your waist and he swallows heavily, allowing you once more to do what you want, helpless in every way to stop you. When you’re finish, you clean him up again and sit up. Still sitting on his lap, you feel his length pressing up against you. Ony’s eyes flutter open and he catches glimpses of you, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. “Who..?” Ony starts but you cut him off. “See you soon.” you lean forward and kiss his lips softly and just like that, you’re gone.

Ony jumps up out of his sleep in a panic. Sweat drips down his body as he looks around his room for any signs of you. His room was still, only the whirling of the blades of his fan can be heard. Was I dreaming? He thinks as he wipes the sweat from his head. The clock blinks 4:12am. Ony groans and falls back onto the bed. He attempt to force himself back to sleep but it was no use. With a grunt, he rolls out of bed and starts his morning routine.

Washing up quickly he throws on his practice clothes and headed towards the front door. His body was tense from the lack of sleep and the consistent ‘dreaming’. His neck tinged with pain. Ony reached up to apply pressure and crack his neck and felt a soreness at his touch. “Shit.” he pulls his hands back quickly, his hand wet and sticky. It took a moment to register that it was his blood on his hand. His heart pounded and breathing increased. “No.” he whispered to himself rushing towards a mirror hanging on the wall. But his nightmare was true. There on the other side of his neck was another hickey, bigger than the last. The same two dots in the middle. Ony stepped back bumping into his couch.

So it wasn't a dream. You were in his apartment last night.

“How the fuck?” A sense of fear grips his chest at the thought. You had managed to come into his home unannounced, feed from him, and leave without leaving a trace of your presence except for the mark on his neck. Ony’s eyes dart around the room searching for anything but there was nothing but emptiness. His phone ringing makes him jump from his skin. “H-hello?” he picks up quickly. “Yo where you at? Coach is looking for you man.” Eren says over the line. “Shit. I’m on the way. Sorry.” he responds. He hangs up and rushes out the door, current fears forgotten.

“Fuck.” Ony says as he arrives. Not once. Not once has he ever been late or missed a practice. His head was spinning and sweat poured from his pores. This was all fucked up. You had him caught up in his own mind and it felt like there was nowhere for him to escape. “Damn you look like shit.” Eren said as Ony stepped into the locker room. He ignored the comments and rushed to get ready so they could get out on the field. “Yo, Ony. You bleeding man.” His eyes shoot up and he stares off into the distance. “Uh. Y-yeah I guess I cut myself shaving.” he mumbled an excuse. “Ony you don't shave yourself. You literally have a personal barber.” Connie speaks out. Shit. “Well first time for everything.” he shrugs. He grabs some tissues and wipes his neck off and rummages through his bag for a bandaid. After cleaning himself up and covering the mark, he managed to get his gear on and head to the field

That day at practice, Ony was on edge.

His thinking was a bit clouded and it showed in his actions. Practice ended and his body felt drained of all energy. “ONY!” His coach’s voice boomed. “MY OFFICE. NOW.” Ony flinched. He’s never gotten into trouble. He was a star player. Always punctual. Always attentive. He drags his body to the office and slumps into a chair. “You want to explain to me was the hell is going on with you today? Are you sick or something? This behavior of yours is unacceptable.” Coach Erwin goes on and on. Ony blinks slow trying to register his words but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

“Are you listening to me son? If this doesn't get better, I’ll have to pull you from the next game.” That caused him to snap himself out of the trance he was in. “N-no. I’m good coach. I promise. I just need some sleep. It won't happen again.” He stammered. Erwin looks him over for a moment. “Fine. But this is your only warning. Understood?” Ony shaked his head yes. “I promise. It won't happen again.”

That was the first time Ony had lied.

Because the next night, the same dream appeared.

Your teeth dip into his neck again. “Fuck. Please..” his begging was useless. You sit flat on his lap feeding from him. Gently you begin to rock back and forth as you savor his sweet taste. Arousal spikes under his skin as goosebumps litter his body. His eyes roll back in his head at the overwhelming feeling. It was wrong but he couldn’t stop. He didn't want to. The feeling of euphoria was too good to let go. “I can’t…” he pleads out, wanting more and less at the same time. You were sending his body into overdrive, the blood rushing through him making his flavor sickly sweet and you indulge yourself in every drop. When you pull back, you’re both breathing hard. His grip on your hips tightens and you whimper. “Ony.” you breathe out. “Shit.” He was so confused but the feed and his current state made him dizzy. His grip loosened on you and you disappeared before he had the chance to object.

Ony woke up again startled and confused. His head was spinning. He looked down and saw his dick standing at full attention. “Bruh.” he groaned, head falling back against his pillow. “This can't keep happening to me.” He complains. But that was one wish that wouldn't come true. Because for several nights after, the same instance occurred. You came into him home when he was asleep, fed, and disappeared. Leaving him in desperate want and deep exhaustion. Ony was struggling to keep it all together and it showed in his actions on and off the field.

It was in the middle of a humid practice session, when Ony began to notice more strange changes outside of just the typical drowsiness. Every time he ran drills or lifted weights, he felt this subtle tug at his physical energy. Something you were doing. It had to be you. You were depleting him and fast. He found himself growing more and more exhausted, his usual stamina fading faster than ever before.

And because you would only come at night, he could never actually catch you. He tried staying awake into the night to see if that would work but it was no use. His body was betray him due to fatigue and he would jolt awake once more. More marks began to appear in different places on his body. Some on his biceps and others on his inner thighs. And it continued the next day…

Then the next week…

Then the next month…

Before Ony knew it, he had sat out for two games and it didn't look like he was getting any better. Each time was more draining than the last. Sports journalists worried for his health and fans worried about the championship. “They're targeting you because you’ve become weak.” His coaches had told him. And it was true. The opposing teams had seen him in action. His performance was growing inconsistent and they fed on it. There was no choice but to pull him from the games until he could get whatever this was under control.

Ony had never felt more defeated in his life. His love, the game, was falling away from him and there was nothing he could do about it. He was angry. This isn’t even my fault! Why were you doing this to him? He was exhausted and in pain. His teammates started to whisper. Everyone was making assumptions. Pretty soon rumors started to circulate about the little marks with blood on his body. Random drug tests were ran on the team. Physical exams doubled. He knew it was because of him. So he wasn't surprised when he sat in the office with his coaches and the owners of the team.

“You’re letting me go?!” His heart drops into his stomach. “Ony, We’ve tried to give you time. But whatever this is. These markings, This erratic behavior. We are struggling to find a reason to keep you on this team.” Hange, the team owner spoke up. “P-please. It's not me I swear. It's her.” he blurts out, eyes widening at his own outburst. “Her?” His coaches look at him like he had lost his mind. “You got to believe me. I know it sounds crazy but this isn’t me.” he begs. “So prove it.” Levi says from behind them all. Ony’s adam apple bobbed in his throat. Levi was the big boss, a no bullshit type of person. “But I can’t. That's the problem.” Ony lets out defeated. “Either you prove it in the next 48 hours or you’re off the team.” And with those words they dispersed.

Ony felt like he wanted to cry. He was on the verge of losing his mind. “I can’t keep living like this.” he groaned. So he decided to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed his things and rushed home. “YO!” He called out into the empty space. “Are you in here?” he yells. No response. FUCK! He slumps to the floor. “Look,” his tone shifts, a crack heard in his voice. “I don't know if you can hear me. Or what or where you are but…Please. I can’t lose this. This game is my life. My everything. It feeds my family. Just…” he stops with a sigh. There was no point in begging. He’d done it before but you never answer. Suddenly, there was a fire lit underneath. You know what, Fine. If you won't stop. I'll make you. He stood up with a new sense of determination and rushed to his laptop. The rest of that evening he studied everything he could about mythical creatures and what keeps them away.

He read up on scent blockers and set to work to create his own. “Masking your scent from vampires, werewolves, and other mythical creatures..” he mumbled reading through the instructions. Finally, after hours of work it was time to put his plan in motion. After his shower, he lathered his body in the homemade concoction. “This better work.” he says before forcing himself to sleep.

The next morning Ony woke up before his alarms. He felt…rested. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to check himself over. There were no bruises, no hickeys. Nothing. It worked! He thought happily. He quickly cleaned himself up and headed to practice. He was the first one of the field when everyone else arrived. “Whoa, look who seems to be feeling better.” Reiner said patting him on the back. Ony smiled. He knew he had a while to recover but for the first time in a while, he felt like he was on the right track.

After practice, the coaches sat the team down in the middle of the field to do wrap up. The bosses had came back but this time Ony was ready for them. “I’m guessing you have your proof.” Levi spoke as he stepped onto the field. “I-..well technically no but I do think I have a solution to my problem.” he started to explain but gasps and a thunderous noise behind him caught his attention. Levi’s eyes looked past him towards the middle of the field. No. Ony didn't need to turn around to know it was you. Your scent was intoxicating. When he did turn, his jaw dropped open. You stood in the middle of the field, skin glowing, wearing an outfit that put Akasha to shame. “Shit.” Ony let out.

Your eyes scan the field and when they find him, you lock onto his gaze. “You hid from me.” Your voice calls out. Low but intimidating. “I-...” Ony looked around at the confused faces of his team members and coaches. The pout you wore of your face was…cute? What the fuck was he thinking? You found him and you’re here. They can see you! “You didn't give me a choice. You were draining me.” he let out in frustration. “I don't like being ignored Ony.” you speak. Within a blink, you were standing in front of him, your chest pressed into his.

“How did you find me?” he asks you. His teammates had stopped what they were doing, eyes wide as they watched the scene unfold. The coaches stood frozen, confused, unsure of what to make of the strange woman who had just appeared on the field. “I always get what I want Ony.” you say and before he could think, your hands were on him, teeth elongated and breaking through his skin. “Fuck.” he groans at the impact, hands lifting and gripping your waist again. But this felt different. It wasn’t just your regular poke and suck. Ony’s skin singed before wave of…something flowed into his bloodstream. He felt lightweight but those familiar thrums of pleasure were still present.

When you finally pull back, there is a ghostly silence from those around you. “Now,” you smile, licking your lips. “You can’t escape me if you tried.” you say matter of factly. “Fascinating.” A woman’s voice speaks up from behind him. He turned to see Hange with a wide smile on her face. “I didn't think you were real. All these years. Wow.” she exclaimed. You tilt your head at her peculiar nature. “Y-you know her? You can see her?” Ony asks. “Of course they can see me. I’m not a ghost.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now, can you explain why you tried to hide from me in the first place?” you turn your attention back to him. “Can we not… discuss this here?” he asks. You look around at the shocked faces. “Fine. I'll meet you at your apartment. You better not be late.” and with that you disappear.

Ony closes his eyes and takes a few breaths before opening them again to prepare himself for the onslaught of questions he was going to receive. “Well, we see what caused the draining.” Levi spoke first, tone of voice still as nonchalant as before. “AMAZING! Ony do you know who that was?!” Hange rushes to him, shaking his shoulders. “A girl I met outside the bar?” he says confused. “WHAT?! NO! That was Y/N. The entity of all entities. THE Queen Vamp herself. We were standing in the presence of royalty and SHE MARKED YOU! WOW!” Hange rushes through jumping with excitement as she looked over his neck, your mark singed into his skin like ink. “I’m sorry Queen vamp? What?” Ony tried to rap his head around it but it only left him with more questions. “Oh this is perfect. You have to go. Go go go! She's going to be waiting! Go and come back and tell us more! See you at practice tomorrow!” she says before basically shoving him to the door.

Ony walked into the door of his apartment with nerves bundling in his belly. What the hell was he getting into. Queen vamp? What does that even mean? He dropped his keys by the door and looked around. You were nowhere to be found. “Uh, h-hello?” he calls out. I'm in your room. Your voice says in his head. “What the hell? How?” he starts. He walks towards the room and sees you there. You were sitting cross legged in the middle of his bed. He stood in the doorway, heart beating fast as he locks eyes with you. You both stood there in silence gaging each others next move. “What are you?” Ony asks, finally working up the courage to speak up. “A vampire succubus. Queen Vampire Succubus to be exact.” you answer him swiftly. “So what does that mean?” he asks, confusion causing his brows to knit together. “I'm a vampire. I suck blood.” you state. He presses his lips into a flat line. “Obviously, but the other thing? The succubus? What does that mean?” he asks. You smirk at him. “Why don't you look up what a succubus is Ony?” you say sweetly. His eyes narrow at you before pulling out his phone and doing a quick search. As he reads, his eyes widen with surprise. “O-oh.” he says softly before looking back up at you. “Your dreams starting to make sense?” you laugh. Chest rising and falling, he slowly nods.

“So now that that's squared away. Why did you run from me?” you say, pout pulling at your lips again. “B-because. I was going to be kicked off the team. And you wouldn't listen to me. I had to do something.” he explains. You stare him down for a moment, the silence encapsulating you both. “I…apologize,” you start, “I wasn’t aware that I was causing you so much stress. It wasn’t my intention. It's just…” you stop for a moment. “Just?” he encourages. A blink and you were standing right in front of him. “You’re...intoxicating.” you explain, hand dragging down his chest. “Shit.” he whispers out. “I- I can't explain it. But your blood, your essence, its…enticing. It's the sweetest I’ve ever tasted. In all of my time as Queen, I’ve never been so drawn to someone but you. You are different. I crave you.” you speak low as you maintain eye contact. Ony couldn’t help the way his blood began to run hot at your words. His teeth clench together with intensity.

“You’re the queen?” Ony asks, attempting to calm him temperature by changing the subject. “That’s… a lot to process.” You smile softly. “It's a lot to carry.” you respond. Ony couldn’t help it. The way his eyes dropped to your lips, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Despite the crazy turn of events, he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. “Ony. Don't do that.” you whine breaking his train of thought. “Do what?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Your arousal baby. I marked you. I can feel it.” you whimper pressing against him. “Is that…the other part of your power?” he asks you, hands sliding up and gripping your waist. You let out a soft whine as you nod your head. “So how does it work exactly? The…other power.” He asks with slight hesitation. Your eyes lock onto his as your fangs elongated, a smile splitting your lips. “Do you want to find out?” His eyes dilate as your magic starts to whirl underneath your fingertips. He takes a deep breath and utters one simple word.

“Please.”

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