#let's forget hunter ever was a thing

[lilho-ho-bo10]

Bruce: What is going on here?

Clark: In honor of Father's day we're having a "bring your kids to work day". Isn't that right, Jon?

Jon: *Waves at Bruce while playing Chess with Lois* Hi Dad!!!!

Bruce: Hey kid.

Arthur: *Cradling Andrina in his arms*

Diana: Your daughter is adorable.

Arthur: Thank you , Princess. Wait, didn't you have a son?

Diana: I did.

Arthur: Where is he? I'm sure Clark wouldn't mind if you brought him.

Diana: He's dead.

Arthur: Oh...

Diana: I killed him.

Bruce: !?

Everyone in the room: ...

Everyone: Starts to applaud and cheer.

Arthur: Thank God!!!

Jon: I hated him!!!

Clark: You did the right thing.

Bruce: !?!?!?!?!?

[sylustra]

Sylus saying "...don't run" to MC when they're finally being openly honest about their desire for one another and their trust and shared spaces.

[milla-frenchy]

In the cold night

3k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being on patrol, Joel and you spend the cold winter night together in a small house

Warnings: 18+ mdni. mention of a past SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!joel, feral!joel saving reader, friends to lovers, one bed, soft!joel, praise kink, masturbation (f), thighs rubbing, oral (f), piv. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @justagalwhowrites 's “Joel Miller birthday celebration”. I chose Jackson!Joel/one bed- Thank you for this event 🙏 Thank you @arcanefox207 for the gif in the mood board ❤️ Please, check out the full gif here and some others, they are stunning 😍 Thank you, Ally 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you as always for beta-ing, baby 💕🫶 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The crunch of your footsteps in the snow echoes in your head. Two rabbits are hanging from Joel’s back, clinging to his shoulder. His brown jacket has lost its shine long, long time ago, and the leather is frayed at the elbows and sleeves. Every time you pass him, the smell of old leather rushes into your nostrils. A reassuring, familiar scent.

You’re heading to an outpost, as you have done so many times before. You know each other's reflexes by heart, the way your bodies tense in case of danger, the glances that make speech useless. You no longer count the number of infected you have killed during patrols.

You look around a small wooden house. Searching for footprints, anything that might put you on alert. You scan the area, whether for infected, or worse- hunters or raiders.

You feel safe with Joel, ever since the day he snatched you from the hands of raiders. Two dirty, skinny men. They surprised you, during one of your first long patrols. They knocked Joel out, and dragged you on an old mattress of the shelter you just arrived at. They did not even pay attention to the dead duck that you planned to eat that evening. In this world, with some men, food is not the first thing they crave. 

You punched one of them, then tried to grab your knife, but two men were too much to handle. When they threw you onto the mattress, you struggled, screaming, biting, then one held your arms while the other removed your pants. Tears obstructed your view. You would have preferred to be bitten by an infected, rather than that. 

Just as the first man was about to lie down between your thighs while you were crying with rage, you heard a dull, cold, unexpected noise. A knife thrown from the opposite side of the room, just stuck in the skull of the man, holding your arms. As soon Joel threw the knife, he rushed to rip the man off your body, and then punched him so many times that his face got swollen from the blows and turned unrecognizable.

“Piece o’shit!” Joel growled from the depths of his chest. You looked at him, still half in shock at what had almost happened to you, feeling relieved. The man was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Joel let go of his collar and retrieved the knife from the second man’s skull. He pressed the tip of the blade against his heart and slowly pushed it in, his dark gaze fixed on the man’s. The raider’s feet twitched for a few moments, before they froze for eternity.

Then Joel rushed over to you and covered you with an old blanket pulled from the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, his worried eyes fixed on you, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wanting to forget your fear, to curl up against his reassuring presence. He took you in his arms, rocking you slowly, holding you close to him.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear them coming, because of my damn bad ear.”

“It’s ok, Joel, it’s ok. They didn’t do anything to me,” you muffled in his chest.

“No it’s not. They did way too much. But I got you, now. I got you. Won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

He held you against him for several minutes, patiently, one hand caressing your back, the other resting on the nape of your neck, until you stopped crying. He then asked if you were feeling a little better, if he could get the bodies out of the outpost. He didn’t want you to see them anymore. You nodded, watched him as he dragged the bodies out into the surrounding woods. 

He was sitting next to you until you fell asleep. He stood guard all night, staring at the shadows of the trees through the window, letting you rest.

From that day on, you knew that nothing would happen to you as long as you were with Joel. He was the type of man who, when he said something, stuck to it. He was reliable, loyal, and serious. He was your patrol partner, and you couldn't have asked for a better one.

Once you reach the shelter, you prepare the fire in the hearth of the old fireplace, while Joel goes around this old house, half buried under the snow. It is the first time that you patrol here in the middle of winter, and the walls and the ground are icy. You eat one of the rabbits, trying in vain to warm yourself by the fire. As you get ready to go to bed, Joel puts a blanket on the floor.

“What are you doing, Joel? You can't sleep there. You're gonna freeze and die, it’s too cold!”

“There's only one bed, sweetheart. Ain't gonna sleep with you.”

“Of course you're gonna sleep with me. Come on, Joel, don't be silly. We can share the bed, we have to keep each other warm or the next patrol will find our two skeletons in this damn house.”

“Jesus, you’re so stubborn! Alright then.”

You smile, thinking that you had never met someone as stubborn as him, and if he hadn't noticed your slightly blue lips, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.

You undress and slip under the thin blankets, wearing your t-shirt and panties. Grimacing at the contact with the cold and damp covers. He joins you in the small bed, and even though warmth radiates from his body, your teeth still chatter.

“Christ, you're freezing. C’mere, I’ll keep you warm,” he says, as you take off your t-shirt and he discards his too, leaving only his boxers.

“Told you we had to sleep in the same damn bed… and I'm the stubborn one?”

He chuckles, and takes you in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

“Better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, you’re as warm as a boiler. How is that possible? Icicles are practically falling off these blankets.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?”

You scoff and muffle a laugh, then fall asleep.

You wake up during the night, Joel's light snoring in your ear. His arms are still around you and you're much less cold. His scent surrounds you. You shift slightly, putting the blanket that had slipped back on both of you. The movement makes him mumble in his sleep and you smile, getting ready to fall back asleep, until you feel him twitch against you. His cock, asleep until then, has just woken up in his boxers when your ass brushed against it.

You open your eyes suddenly. It’s been a long time since you felt a body- a hard cock - against you. You try to move away from him a little, to not wake him up, to not create awkwardness between you. But he holds you tighter against him, letting out a sigh of contentment when his cock finds its place against your ass again.

You get a rush of arousal and you're not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep. Your walls are contracting painfully, calling for a release of the pressure from your crotch. You close your eyes, placing your hand under the pillow. Trying to think of something else, until his cock jerks again. Once, twice. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to fall back asleep. 

So you think that maybe, if you do it discreetly, you can make yourself come. Even though he's lying against you, his chest against your back.

You slide your hand south, slowly, so as not to wake him, and start brushing your swollen folds through your panties. But it's not enough. You slide your hand under the hem, finally whirling your clit under your finger. Joel growls against your ear and you freeze for a few moments, until his breathing becomes calm, steady. Gently, you stroke yourself, finally starting to feel the fire in your crotch calm down a little.

You vaguely feel his nose brush your hair, not paying much attention to it, thinking he does it in his sleep. Then you feel his hand slowly slide down your arm, and you jerk, hastily removing your fingers from your panties, realizing that Joel is awake and that he has caught you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispers softly in your ear in his sleepy voice, taking your hand and gently bringing it back to your pussy.

You feel the heat reach your cheeks and think about getting up, but you're too ashamed to face him. There had never been any sexual tension between the two of you. You're what you could call friends, in this lost world. You trust each other, he told you about Sarah, you told him about your late husband and son. You trust each other, and honestly, you never thought about him as more than a friend. And you don't want to ruin your friendship.

“I just want you to feel good.”

You stay silent for a few moments. Thinking about what he's telling you. You know he's sincere. 

You feel your clit pulsing and you bite your lip.

“Ok, Joel,” you breathe out. 

You're unsure of what will happen between the two of you after, but you let him lead your hand and slide your fingers under your soaked panties. You're already moaning at the first touch and you feel your nipples hardening. 

Delicately, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours, you let him lead the dance and travel through your folds. Then he slides both your hands into your panties, and makes you touch yourself so delicately, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, that new moans escape you.

“Keep going, Joel, please…”

He hums, grazing your ear with his nose. You hear his breathing deepen, then he presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, still using your finger to brush your clit. You feel your pussy dripping. The fact that he is using your fingers, so perfectly, is perhaps the most sensual thing you have ever done.

You feel his cock stuck in his boxers harden even more as he keeps touching you. You crave to feel him against you, without any fabric between your bodies. You forget your shyness, your reserve, your worries.

“Would you… pull down your boxers? So I can feel you?*

“Of course, sweetheart.” He lets go of your hand to pull down his underwear. His hard cock springs out and this time you feel it fully against you. Big, hard.

“Between my thighs, please…”

He kisses your back and grabs his cock, slides it into this tight space, then comes to rest against your fingers again, in your panties. You slowly move your pelvis back and forth, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

“Christ, sweetheart… Feeling you against me, like that…”

“I know, Joel. It’s… good, really good.”

You no longer remember your fear that this will change things between you. The feeling is too good, too powerful, to think about anything else.

His shaft slides easily between your thighs, your pussy soaking him continuously.

“You’re so wet for me, baby”, he whispers in your ear, and a new flow trickles from your walls. His free hand caresses your shoulder, then he kisses it. You feel his mustache brush your skin, and your moans fill the room.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck… fuck yeah, I'm gonna come, Joel.”

He keeps playing with your fingers with the same rhythm, feeling that you are close. Your mind goes blank. You only think about the pressure growing inside you, ready to explode.

“Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he murmurs.

The orgasm washes over you, and you arch your back under its power, your ass pressed against Joel’s crotch. “Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, holding you against him, your hand in his, until your jerks stop.

Your breathing slowly goes down. “Damn”, you say. “That was so hot.”

“It was,” he smiles, kissing your shoulder. He doesn't ask for more, doesn't put any pressure on you, but you need more. You need your bodies to be one. You don't think too much about it, then add quickly, “Joel… I need to…” before shyness overwhelms you again, and he asks softly “tell me, baby. What do you need?”

The soft tone of his voice reassures you, and you add “I need to feel you… I need to feel you inside me.”

“Turn around, sweetheart. Lemme look at you.”

You do as he says, and face him. You barely see his face in the darkness of the night. Just enough to perceive the intensity in his gaze, behind his usual sweetness with you, as he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, of course. Ready to take whatever he wants to give you. His warm lips land on yours and press against them. You hear him take a deep breath, then his nose rubs yours. He kisses you again, with more intensity, and sensations you thought forgotten forever jostle throughout your whole being. His tongue tastes your lips, then slides between them and finds yours. He moans as your hand grabs his shaft softly, wet with his precum and your desire. You jerk him off slowly as you continue to make out. He's big. So big. But you don't wonder if your body can accept it, after all this time. You know it will. And you know Joel will be soft. You nestle his cock at your entrance after pushing your panties aside, murmuring “I wanna feel you,” your forehead against his.

You tilt your pelvis forward and his tip slides inside you, making you hold your breath for a few moments.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah. I just have to… get used to it.” 

He doesn’t move and lets you handle the rhythm. You kiss him again, and you feel your pussy dripping, eager to be filled. You put your hand on the back of his neck and squeeze his bicep with the other, sliding further down his shaft. Your walls spread as you glide on his tip and again, you feel that forgotten feeling. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, nipples tense. Your hand runs through his neck, and you feel his prominent veins under your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, when he is fully inside you. You pull back then push forward again, to reassure his worried eyes on you. You are so wet that the sounds echo in your ears and the whole room. Joel holds you against him, gently, sensually. One hand on your hip, the other on your back.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can you lie down on me? I'd like to feel you deeper.”

He caresses your cheek and tells you yes, of course.

You lie on your back and he removes your panties, kneeling between your thighs.

And he looks at you, from your face to your cunt. "You're beautiful," he says. His stare stops there, then he glances at you. As if he was asking you silently if he could taste you. You nod and he settles between your thighs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he adds, before licking your pussy in a long stroke. Pointing his tongue at your clit, then running over your folds again. Your knees are bent, legs spread as wide as possible. His head moves between your offered thighs, your hands lost in his curls, while his tongue laps at your dripping pussy. He pushes two fingers in your core, and places his lips around your clit, sucking it. Then swirls it under his tongue, while his fingers thrust in at a perfect, regular pace.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I'm gonna come again.”

Your nails tighten on his scalp as you come on his tongue, your walls squeezing uncontrollably around his two fingers. He pulls them out and replaces them with his tongue, drinking in everything that flows from you. The feeling is so strong, forgotten for so long, that you feel like you're going to burst into tears. But he stops, careful not to overwhelm you, and lies down between your thighs. He places his hand on your cheek and searches for your eyes before pushing his tip into you with his other hand, eyes lowered to you.

“Damn sweetheart,” he breathes. “You feel so good around me.”

His words envelop you and lull you. His voice is low, calm, as slow and sweet as the rhythm in which he sinks into you.

All his weight is on you and you have never felt so safe in your entire life. His arms surround you as you kiss. Your hands roam the top of his body. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his cheeks, his neck. His cock slides inside you, pushing your walls in the most perfect way with each thrust. Your knees are spread wide to welcome him between your thighs. He straightens up, leaning on one hand, and looks at you. Looks into your eyes filled with desire.

He watches your neck throbbing. Your chest heaving.

He watches where his cock is digging into you.

“I'm not gonna last. Can you give me one more, baby?”

“Yeah, it's... yes.”

He lies back on you, eyes locked on yours, and slides his arms under your shoulders. Your hot, sweaty chests rub against each other. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he thrusts into you, his shaft rubbing exactly where you need it. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you come on his shaft and he stops moving. Eager to keep watching you twitch beneath him, but trying not to come too. Not yet, not inside you. He wants to let you come until the shaking stops. 

He looks at you, and focuses on a mole, chosen at random. To focus on something else, than your pussy perfectly squeezing him. When your trembling finally stops, he grabs his cock hastily, just in time before his cum coats the inside of your thighs and your lower stomach, then his heavy body rests against yours.

“Christ, sweetheart… that was amazing,” he says, smiling at you. You kiss and then nestle against his chest. You feel his heart beat hard, then gradually calm down. You fall asleep without even realizing it.

When you wake up, it’s daylight. The smell of coffee rushes into your nostrils. For a moment, it’s like life is almost normal.

You sit up in bed, holding the blanket against you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. Smiling, warm. Joel.

You smile back at him, thinking that you would like to wake up next to him every single day, from now on. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[zriasstuff]

This is a kinda random request but how would the sytherin boys react when they see boxers in your room assuming it’s another guys when it’s actually yours. I wear boxers so i just randomly thought of this. 💗💗

This is actually fire, I gladly imagined how this situation would play out. Although some things go similarly, I tried to differentiate their reactions and actions a little bit. Enjoy this crack :)

Slytherin boys x reader

How come you’ve been in a relationship for some time already and they don’t know that you wear boxers ? God knows, maybe they’ve just had a rough day and all critical thinking tends to fly out the window. Jealousy and fear of losing you are hard emotions to control…

Theodore Nott:

when Theo sees them, he aggressively cups your face and pierces your soul with his hunter like eyes all of a sudden

“that’s one skinny bastard that you’re fucking behind my back, does he even have a dick?”, he refers to your own boxers, that are obviously a few sizes smaller

“Tell me, how come you’re such a slut that having me isn’t enough? you actually have to find yourself a side bitch?”

it took some time to recover from his harsh scolding, but soon enough your brain worked again and spat out the right words

Theo backs up in shock when hearing your explanation that made a lot of sense

As a returning favor he should get a scolding too for immediately jumping to conclusions and not communicating properly, but they’re all a bunch of hotheads anyway

It all turns into a funny anecdote though, which also serves as a reminder for him to trust his girl

Tom Riddle:

as soon as he sees them lying around somewhere his expression becomes stoic, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit and lips pursed

of course you noticed even the slightest change, so you reach for his hand to ask him what was wrong. you remember though that sometimes he just gets stressed because he has so much to think about

without properly getting to know the situation he would want to insult and intimidate you, he immediately fumes and threatens: “you are dead to me, and you are going to regret this”

his words and tone especially made you want to cry, you felt yourself curling up, standing beneath his tall frame, not even knowing what you did

he was not only mad at you, but also at himself for letting his guard down, which led to him being played like a fool. there was nothing more important that his self worth and dignity to him

still, you begged and whined for him to stay and when you finally understood that he saw “another guys” boxers on your floor, you actually scoffed and remained speechless for a while

although he was slightly paranoid that you might be lying to him, he saw how distressed you were when he wanted to break up, and that’s something you can’t fake (he still is very wary though, and has to pretend he didn’t just imagine ways to kill and torture “the other guy”)

Mattheo Riddle:

like his brother, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting him, only the other way around

especially with his abandonment issues too this makes him jump from zero to one hundred

but unlike Tom he actually wants to hear your side, to decide how he should handle this and scorned at you: “for fucks sake, you’ve been cheating on me? I don’t know if you thought I was never going to find out, but keeping his bloody boxers is just disgusting. You care to explain?!”

He even picks them up from your bed, and throws them into a corner, shooting them and you a disgusting look

You don’t appreciate his attitude at all, and if that boy knew that he just threw your own boxers, he’d be down on his knees

You can’t take this seriously and tell him “never seen a girl wear boxers?”, that made things so awkward, and Mattheo quickly apologizes, hopefully you’d forget about this…

Draco Malfoy:

His jealousy promptly get the better of him and he thinks about all the idiots that have tried hitting on you, or ever liked you, which one of them was it?

He couldn’t believe that anyone was worth jeopardizing your relationship, but apparently so

Grabbing you close to him, while pointing at the boxers, he growls “so whose are they huh? Carter? Lewis? You better tell me it’s not that stupid Potter”

While you’re talking, he is still so mad that isn’t even hearing everything that you’re saying, he physically couldn’t calm down when thinking about you jumping into bed with someone else

He would take the boxers too, observing at them closely, and then somewhat sneered “I didn’t know girls also wore boxers”

Draco wouldn’t necessarily be a fan, but came to the conclusion that what you wear under your clothes really wasn’t any of his business

At some point he also wants to see what you look like wearing them, and they actually looked kind of cool

Blaise Zabini:

just like all the others, his thoughts immediately jump to violence, for instance how to get the other guy admitted into the hospital wing

but something makes him stop and think—why wouldn’t you even bother to hide them somewhere? did you think he was so incredibly blind, or did you actually have nothing to hide?

Still his temper gets the best of him and accuses you of being “shameless” and asks if you were trying to insinuate that he “wasn’t good enough” because you’re wrong and he can fuck you better than anyone else

He always thought that everything was going well, so you being unsatisfied was really the last thing he expected

Fortunately everything gets resolved quite easily since you reassure him, and you even tease him about his jealousy

For the rest of the night, Blaise in fact proves that he can fuck you the best. That was the best apology for doubting you in the first place

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He gets extremely upset and has an outburst too, but with a hint of self consciousness, asking you how you could do this to him, when he’s always trying his best

Enzo also relies on guilt, wanting to make you feel like absolute shit, he says stuff like “i gave up being a player for you because I love- loved- you so much, but apparently you see me as nothing

You have to try your hardest to make him see how ridiculous he was being, and he demands you tell him how you would never cheat on him

Seeing you in your boxers for the first time also makes him smirk, you could really rock anything

[cevansbrat0007]

Hey, I do not think I have asked this before, but if I have please ignore it. I have seen on social media where the wife will ask the bf, or husband to leave the room, so they can get changed. I was wondering what would Ari, and, or Andy's response to this be?

Guessing Games

Summary: Ari doesn't like being kicked out of your bedroom. Also be sure to check out Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Body Image, Manhandling, Discussions of Lingerie, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Wisps of steam curl around you as you step out of the shower. Snagging a nearby towel, you take your time drying off before reaching for your favorite body butter, leisurely applying it all over your thirsty skin. Once you’re finished, you carefully don your robe and make your way into your bedroom. 

Of course you’re not the least bit surprised to find your bounty hunter laying on your bed, eyes closed, with one brawny arm tucked behind his head. To the average person it would appear that he was sleeping. But you knew better. 

Last night you’d promised to take a day trip with him to a classic car show that was happening a couple towns over. And, ever the early riser, your man was itching to get on the road. Which meant he was trying to keep a handle on his patience so that he didn’t accidentally piss you off while trying to hurry you along.

The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a car while you pouted for two hours. Having experienced it once before, it was definitely not his idea of a good time. 

“You were in there so long I was beginning to worry you might’a drowned.” Although his tone is deceptively light, there’s no missing the hint of impatience. 

“The hot water felt extra good this morning. Besides, it's not gonna take me long to get dressed.”

“Eh,” he sighs, adjusting his position so that he’s now sitting up in bed, his big body resting against your numerous decorative pillows. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you make a beeline for your closet. You’d already picked out your outfit the night before, which made things a hell of a lot easier. Grabbing one of your more colorful sundresses off the rack, you hold it up to yourself in the mirror.

“Well, that’s certainly a pretty little number.” Ari muses, sitting up a little straighter so that he can get a better look at your dress. “Christ, I already know if I bring you to the show wearing that, every fella in a ten mile is gonna forget all about those damned cars.”

His words make your cheeks heat. Even though you were pretty sure he was exaggerating just a tad, it still made you feel good. But just in case…

“Um…” Turning to face him, you once again hold the garment up to your chest. “Do you think I should maybe wear something else then?”

“Hell no.” He growls, tossing a pillow into the air and catching it with ease. “Let ‘em look. I don’t give a fuck about you showing off those gorgeous legs – as long as you remember you’re coming home with me.”

“Now how could I possibly go and forget a little detail like that, sugar?” You giggle, blowing him a tiny kiss which he then pretends to catch. As gruff and rough-and-tumble as your man could be at times, he also had no problem making you melt.

It was just part of his irresistible charm.

“You’d better not, baby. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens if I’m forced to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my truck.” He gives you a hard look before reaching for his phone, letting you know he’s not kidding.

It might sound crazy, but the longer you two were together, the more you’d begun to realize that there was a small part of you that got off on riling him up. Not all the time, mind you…

But you’d also learned that sometimes pricking your bounty hunter’s temper was well worth whatever punishment would ultimately come your way.  

Clearing your throat, you attempt to refocus on the task at hand. You needed to get dressed rather quickly so that you could spend a little extra time in the bathroom putting on your face. Even though you planned to go for a more natural look today, you still wanted to give yourself enough time to be satisfied with the results. 

However, before you did all that, there was one more thing you had to take care of. And you were better off doing so without the benefit of an audience.  

“Alright, Beast.” You hum, gingerly draping your dress across the end of your bed. “How about you give me a little privacy so I can go ahead and get changed?” 

During your latest social media deep dive, you’d come across videos of women asking their significant others to leave the room while they changed their clothes. Many of the reactions had ranged anywhere from confusion to concern. Although there had been a few who seemed not to care one way or the other. 

And while you were pretty sure that Ari would fall into the first category, there was a part of you that wanted to see for yourself. So what better time to try it than on a day where you already planned on teasing him for the next few hours anyway?

“Huh?” He sets the device on his chest so that he can give you his full attention. 

“Ari.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “I need you to step out so I can get dressed.”

“Oh. Right.” Your man grunts dismissively before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. “Guess I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

‘Wow.’ You think, cocking your head in surprise as you watch him give a brief stretch. You honestly hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Sometimes this man really was something else.

“Wait a minute – hold on.” Ari rumbles, dragging a hand through his shaggy locks. “How come I gotta go?” The roughness of his tone alone is enough to make you want to clench your thighs together.  

“Because I wanna put on my clothes.” You reply innocently, as if it should be obvious.

“And why the hell would I need to step out for that?” The tell-tale tick of his jaw and flare of his nostrils lets you know that he’s not happy.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Maybe because I’m not really in the mood for an audience right now?”

“Baby. Swear to God.” He groans, briefly closing his eyes long enough to count to ten. “I have seen every inch of your body more times than I can count. And let me be the first to tell you, it has been the honor of a lifetime.” “I…um…okay.” You hadn’t really been expecting him to say that.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to hide from me.” Your man continues, gifting you with a dazzling smile. “I love your curves, Bird. Love explorin’ every sweet, soft inch of ‘em every chance I get.” 

“Beast…” 

“I mean, how many men can really say that they’ve actually gone and found the woman of their dreams?” 

The sheer adoration in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Unable to hold his gaze, you choose to look away as you work to swallow the lump in your throat. While you weren’t entirely sure what you’d done to deserve someone as wonderful as Ari, you had no plans on letting him go.

Come hell or high water.

“Seriously. No matter how you shake it, I’m a lucky man.” He gently lobs a pillow at you, making you squeal. “And I plan to keep saying it until the day I die.” 

“Jeeze.” You sniff, dashing away a quick tear with your thumb. “You, uh, really know how to boost a girl’s confidence.”

“I only care about my girl and her confidence.” Comes his gruff response. “That’s it. Everyone else can kindly fuck off.”

“Duly noted, handsome.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bashful. “But I, um…” Tamping down a giggle, you try to choose your words carefully. “I’m not kicking you out because I’m ashamed or anything. I’m kicking you out because I bought you a present…for later.” You toss the pillow back at him. It hits square in the chest before falling to the floor. “And I’m not ready for you to see it just yet.” 

“Oh, is that right?” A wolfish grin spreads across his features as understanding dawns. “Go on and lemme see. Give me a little somethin’ to look forward to.”

“I just said it’s a surprise.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“If I guess right, will you let me see?” Ari tries again, not bothering to hide his excitement as he launches himself off the bed. 

This man loved watching you walk around wearing nothing but lingerie, almost as much as he loved peeling it off of you.

“No, Ari.” You can’t hold back your laugh as you take a step back. 

“Is it red?” You’re forced to bat away his eager hands when they reach for the belt of your robe. “Maybe with a little ribbon and some silk?”

“None of your business!” You squeak.

“It’s my surprise. Meaning it’s meant for me.” Grabbing your hips, he pulls you flush against his hard chest. “Which definitely, most certainly, makes it my business.“ He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

God, he was such an incorrigible menace.

“Be a good boy and go downstairs so I can finish getting ready or we’ll be late getting to the show.” You tell him, squirming in his hold. 

“What about something tight, black, and lacey?” His voice dips an octave as his hands to the globes of your ass, giving them a proprietary squeeze. “I’m thinkin’ with a set of thigh highs and garters. You know - like the ones you wouldn’t let me buy at that shop back in Crendlewood.”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see — stop that, damn you!” You cry when Ari begins nibbling along the column of your throat in between teasing kisses, making you giggle. 

“C’mon now, darlin’.” He rasps, his thick fingers digging into your tender flesh. “We both know I’m not gonna last that long.”

“I believe in you.”  

Undeterred, your stubborn bounty hunter decides to change his approach. Abandoning your neck, his advances move lower, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he does.

“It’s your fault I already have such a hard time keeping my hands to myself.” He tells you as he nuzzles his nose against the thin fabric of your robe, his warm breath making your nipples pebble. “You can’t just tease me like that without giving me a taste.”

A sharp nip of teeth has you rising on your toes, unintentionally giving him better access to his intended target. Followed by your strangled moan when you feel him release his grip on your ass so that he can undo the ties of your robe - finally revealing your nude body to his heated gaze. 

“Fucking beautiful.” He snarls reverently, making your core spasm. “And all mine.”

“Yes, yours.” You agree, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Later.”

“Now.”

“Beast.” You breathe, doing your best to ignore the slick coating your thighs. “Later.”

Grumbling under his breath, Ari levels you with a glare as he takes a step back. You didn’t have to ask to know that he was currently weighing his options.

On one hand, he really did want to go to the car show – almost as much as he wanted to unwrap you his surprise. At the same time, he also hated whenever you made him wait for a taste of you. It always made him so damned impatient.  

“Fine.” He grunts, his face looking like he just swallowed something supremely unpleasant. “I’ll go. But you gotta give me a hint first.”

“I do?” You reply, sounding both amused and exasperated.

“‘Fraid so. You either give me that or no deal.” Ari crosses his arms over his broad chest, making it clear that he’s not moving until you give him what he wants. 

“Fine.” You parrot, before spinning on your heel to retreat to your closet. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

Tossing a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s not looking, you pull out the gift bag you’d hidden under a pile of blankets. Digging through the tissue paper, it actually takes you a few seconds to find what you’re looking for. Clutching the item in your hand, you return to stand in front of your bounty hunter before handing it over, pressing it into his palm.

It’s a pale pink garter. That came with a matching colored bustier and g-string. A fact that your man would no doubt appreciate later. 

“Well shit, Duchess.” Ari groans, staring down at the lacey scrap of fabric in his hand. “I think I might’ve just changed my mind about this whole darn trip–”

“Nope!” You swiftly interrupt, snatching back the garter. “A deal is a deal, cowboy. Now, out you go.” 

“But what if we–”

“I will meet you in the living room.” Ignoring his protests, you waste no time shooing him out of your bedroom before brazenly shutting the door in his now-pouting face. “Go watch TV or something until I’m ready.”

“This isn’t fair.” Your grumpy bounty grouses, banging his fist against the wall. 

“I promise to make it up to you later.” You tease, allowing your robe to fall to the floor as you begin putting on your jewelry. “I might even let you take a few pictures if you ask nicely.”

“Damn it, baby!” Ari hisses as he finally heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time while he debates the best way to go about dealing with his increasingly uncomfortable hard-on. 

It was going to be a long fucking day, especially now that he’d gotten a glimpse of what you planned to wear underneath that flimsy little sundress. Opening your freezer, he wonders if it’s too early to consider icing his balls. Perhaps he’d be better off waiting until after your road trip. 

“God, I am so fucked.” He mumbles as he fishes out a half-frozen bottle of water before twisting off the cap and taking a sip. “And all because my girl has the nerve to look so goddamn pretty in pink.”

END

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[thebestsetter]

Kuroo has always had a bad hair.

Ever since he was a kid, one of his main physical traits is his atrocious bed hair. He wakes up like that because of how hard he presses his pillows to his ears while he sleeps, so it's not really a habit he can change easily. Also, he has never had a problem with it, especially because his pretty wife, you, said it's one of your favorite parts of him.

You always talk about how you love his hair, even if you still call him "rooster head" sometimes. You love to pet it, you love the shape, the color and everything involving his hair. Not even he is capable of understanding the "attraction" you feel for it, so he just enjoys it.

So yeah, he doesn't really hate his hair, and overtime, he learned how to keep it more "tamed" and "behaved". So he thought his hair problems were over. No more bad hair days.

Well, he thought.

"Stupid... hair tie...." Kuroo murmured, voice coming out muffled because of the pink butterfly pin with glitter that was on his mouth. His eyes held a look of extreme concentration, akin to a hunter aiming for a deer in the middle of the woods.

He was serious. In fact, he had never been so serious in his life. Because this wasn't any occasion. It was the first time you had ever let him dress up your 5 year old daughter for school. He couldn't mess this up.

Her hair needed to be perfect. He just seemed to forget he had never braided a hair before in his life.

"Daddy, are you alright?" His little girl asked, feet moving around and hands on her lap, waiting patiently for her dad to finish the "amazing hairstyle" he promised her.

If only she knew.

"Yeah, sweetheart!" Tetsuro said, drops of sweat running down his forehead. "Just wait a little more!" He said, taking his phone off his pocket while still holding a lock of hair and still with the butterfly pin in his mouth.

He then started watching a video on youtube. It's title was "How to make a braid with only 3 steps".

"Ah, so it's actually done with 3 locks of hair, not only 2!"

He then began treading his daughter's hair with such precision that it was scary. His eyes were focused and it seemed like he couldn't pay attention to anything else. It was only him, the hair ties, and the hair. Nothing else.

After a while, things were actually going somewhere.

No way. He was almost getting it finished!

"Tetsu, honey, are you guys ready?" He heard you calling from the kitchen

"One sec, love!" Kuroo shouted back. "Now I just need to do this and... AHA! My masterpiece is ready!"

"How do I look, daddy?" His daughter asked, smiling brightly at him. Even if she had some missing teeth, Kuroo swore it was the prettiest smile he had ever seen in his life. Of course it was. It was just like your's, afterall.

"You look amazing sweetie. Like a real princess! You're your dad's princess, you know that, right?"

"Thank you dad!" She smiled again, hugging him strongly. He hug her back, careful not to touch her hair in the process. He couldn't ruin his hard work!

"Now, why don't we go show mama how great you look, hm?" He crouched down and smiled at her

"Of course! Let's go dad!" She laughed, grabbing his hands and pulling him downstairs.

She really was the cutest kid Kuroo has ever seen.

"Okay sweetheart, close your eyes!" Kuroo said, peeking from the kitchen's door. "Our daughter wants to surprise you with her amazing hair - the one I braided, of course"

"Sure, Tetsu! I can't wait to see this great work of art!" You giggled, using a sarcatic tone.

I mean, look at his hair. He couldn't have an experience with braiding. It was clear the hair would look utterly horrible.

"Hey, I sensed that sarcasm!" He said, which made you giggle "Mind you, she loved it!"

"If you say so. I'm gonna close my eyes now!" You smiled, putting your hands on front of your eyes to show them you wouldn't cheat and open your eyes

"No peaking, mama!" You heard your daughter saying, her little footsteps making you realize she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, no peaking!" Kuroo agreed.

Gosh, they really were the same.

"Okay, okay! I'm not gonna peek"

"Now, I'm gonna count to three and say 'now'. Then you can open your eyes!" Kuroo said, voice showing how excited he was

"Okay!" You smiled

"1..."

You were really starting to think he did a great job. He looked so proud of it, after all!

"2..."

You heard your daughter giggling in the background. Maybe you really judged your husband wrong. Maybe he did know how to braid hairs.

"3..."

You were sure it would be at least decent. If it was, then you'd let your daughter wear it to school. If they were both happy, why not?

"Now!"

You then remove your hands from your face and open your eyes, meeting the most...

Atrocious braid you've ever seen.

"She's not going like that to school." You deadpanned, looking at the hair and wondering why he thought this looked good. Had he never seen a braid before in his life?

"HUH? WHY NOT?" Kuroo shouted, his chest that was once proudly puffed up now deflating

"Why not, mama?" Your daughter started tearing up, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes.

"It looks..." terrible. Is what you really wanted to say.

But looking at your the sad faces of your family members, you didn't find the strength to do so. And so, with a sigh, you smiled and said

"Too good! Other kids will be jealous!"

"For a moment there I thought you were judging my hairstyling habilities!" Kuroo laughed, that obnoxious laugh of his that you loved so much echoing through the halls

"Oh!" Your daughter also laughed, the same way her dad did "There's no problem! I can tell dad to do their hairstyles too!"

"Great idea, sweetie!" Kuroo agreed with her, eyes sparkling up

"I think... it's better if you don't"

"What do you mean by that?" Kuroo asked, looking straight at you with a very sad face.

"Just... you don't seem to have a talent with hairs."

"But you told me you love my hair!" Tetsuro pouted

"I do. And I love you, too!" You kissed his nose, making him smirk at you.

"Not enough. What about... here?"

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the lips. It was full of all the love and passion he held for you and the family you both created together.

"Ewww, daddy and mommy are kissing! Gross!" Your daughter put her tongue out and did a "throwing up" mimic, making you both laugh.

"Now, let's take you to school, sweetheart!"

You smiled, leading both your husband and your daughter to the car.

You really loved your family, even if Kuroo didn't know how to deal with hairs sometimes.

You wonder if he would "get along" better with his son's hair. The son that he still doesn't know is in your belly right now.

Well, he still has 7 months to practice for when the time comes.

~ A/N: FINALLY WROTE A REQUEST!! It was so fun writing this omG. I love healthy families 💕. ALSO, first hq fic!! 🥳🥳

Masterlist

[wandering-winchesters]

A Moment That Changed Everything

Summary: After a brutal hunt, a moment with you leaves Dean feeling vulnerable.

It had been a rough hunt. The kind that left you bone-tired, covered in dirt and blood, and grateful just to be alive. Dean had seen his fair share of hunts like that, more than he could count, but this one had been particularly brutal. A rogue werewolf pack, more vicious than usual, had been tearing through a small town, and it had taken everything they had to put them down.

By the time the last werewolf was dead, Dean was running on fumes. Sam had taken a nasty hit but was still standing, while you—you’d fought like hell, never backing down, even when things looked bad. Dean had seen you take a few hard knocks, and it had worried him, but he knew better than to try and tell you to sit out. You were too stubborn for that, and he respected you for it, even if it made him want to wrap you in bubble wrap sometimes.

After the fight, they’d made their way back to the motel, dragging their tired bodies inside and collapsing onto the worn-out furniture. Sam had headed straight for the shower, leaving Dean alone with you in the small, dimly lit room. The adrenaline was still wearing off, leaving him shaky and wired, his mind replaying the close calls over and over.

Dean glanced over at you, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. You looked as tired as he felt, your shoulders slumped, your face smeared with dirt and blood. But there was something else there, too—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the way you were holding yourself, like you were carrying a weight too heavy for your small frame. Or maybe it was the way your eyes had that faraway look, like you were somewhere else entirely.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck in his throat. What could he say that would make a difference? That they’d survived? That they’d made it through another day? It felt hollow, like an empty victory. But as he stood there, searching for the right words, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

And then you were moving, crossing the small space between you in just a few steps. Before Dean could process what was happening, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

For a split second, Dean froze, his brain trying to catch up with his body. He wasn’t used to this—physical affection, comfort, whatever you wanted to call it. Sure, he’d hugged people before, but it was always brief, a quick, reassuring squeeze before moving on. This was different. This was you, holding onto him like he was something solid, something real.

And that was when it hit him. The full weight of everything they’d been through, everything he’d been holding inside. The fear, the anger, the guilt—it all came rushing to the surface, nearly knocking the breath out of him. But instead of pushing it down, instead of brushing it off like he usually did, Dean let himself feel it. Just for a moment, he let himself lean into you, his arms coming up to wrap around you in return.

You were warm, solid, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. He could feel the steady beat of your heart against his chest, the rise and fall of your breath. It was comforting, more comforting than he’d ever admit out loud. Dean closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the embrace, letting himself forget, if only for a moment, about everything outside that small, dimly lit room.

The hug lasted longer than it probably should have, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to pull away. And honestly, Dean didn’t want to. There was something about being in your arms that made him feel… safe. It was a strange feeling, one he wasn’t used to, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was like for the first time in a long time, he could just be Dean—not the hunter, not the protector, just Dean.

When you finally did pull away, it was slow, reluctant, like neither of you really wanted to break the connection. But eventually, you did, taking a small step back, your eyes searching his for… something. Dean wasn’t sure what, but he could see the question there, the unspoken need for reassurance.

He offered you a small, crooked smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was real all the same. “We’re okay,” he said softly, the words feeling inadequate but true nonetheless.

You nodded, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. There was something different between you now, something that hadn’t been there before. The air felt charged, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. Dean could feel it in his chest, a strange, fluttering sensation that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

But instead of overthinking it, instead of trying to analyze what it all meant, Dean did what he always did. He pushed it down, locked it away in that little box in his mind where he kept all the things he didn’t know how to handle. But even as he did, he knew this was different. This wasn’t something he could just ignore and hope it went away. This was you, and that changed everything.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing away as if breaking eye contact would somehow break the spell. “You should get cleaned up,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Get some rest.”

You nodded again, but before you turned away, you reached out, squeezing his arm. It was a brief touch, but it was enough to send that strange, fluttering sensation racing through him again. And then you were gone, heading toward the bathroom, leaving Dean standing there, alone with his thoughts.

As the sound of the shower filled the small motel room, Dean sank down onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. He let out a long breath, the events of the night finally catching up to him. But even as the exhaustion pulled at him, all he could think about was you—how it had felt to hold you, to be held by you.

It left him with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake, something warm and unsettling all at once. Dean wasn’t sure what it meant, wasn’t sure he was ready to figure it out. But he knew one thing for certain: that hug had changed something inside him. It had cracked open a part of him he’d kept locked away for so long, a part he hadn’t even realized was there anymore.

And now, as he sat there in the quiet room, he couldn’t help but wonder what came next. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Not after that. Not after you.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @mishreem

[chevroletdean]

Tennessee Whiskey & Strawberry Wine

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing, Dean is really pathetic in this one, past established relationship, mentions of arguments/breakups, (mutual) pining, suggestive innuendos but nothing explicit, second chances? WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: It's been months since you broke up with Dean and he's never been able to fully move on. It's when you run into him again that you realize... maybe, just maybe, neither have you. A/N: This is for @rubyvhs' 500 celebration! I got the song 'Tennessee Whiskey' by Austin Giorgio and if that song doesn't scream Dean Winchester, then I don't know. It was a no-brainer to me. Congratulations again, Laila, on 500 well deserved followers!! CREDIT/LINKS: Lace divider, reblog divider, header images edited by me, Dean gif

“I know I ordered a strong whiskey, but I didn’t expect you to make me this weak.”

He remembers you giggling at that cheesy line, the sound still clear as a bell and as angelic as one too. Even today, months after watching you walk away, he can picture the way you rolled your eyes and smiled at him. Bright and joyful.

A stark contrast to the otherwise dull and cruel reality bestowed upon you and him.

Not that you never got along. Quite the opposite, actually.

You and Dean had clicked immediately after meeting for the first time, especially after learning how much you had in common. Then, after working on several cases together, one thing lead to another and at some point you two had become inseparable.

The infamous duo. The ‘it couple’ among hunters. With just as much of a tragic ending as any actual celebrity’s scandalous love story too, sadly.

For your similarities were two sides of the same coin — a common ground for the two of you to understand and to relate to each other, yes. But also a bottomless pit of stubbornness and reason for anger.

So much anger. Endless arguing, with neither of you letting up and both of you doubling down.

Dean always loved your temper, your passion — he still does. But when two hotheads collide, an explosion is bound to happen. You were doomed from the start.

As capable as both of you were when it came to hunting, fighting the ugly monsters between yourselves was a losing battle.

You guys only knew how to exorcise the demons outside your relationship. The two of you could lift any curse except your constant fighting. And now, Dean is left chasing those memories of you like he would a ghost. Not to put it to rest, but to let it haunt his broken heart.

Despite Dean’s apprehension, Sam has insisted on taking a case in Nashville. Everything here reminds Dean of you, not least the very same bar where he first met you.

Love at first sight is something so cliché and Dean Winchester doesn’t do romance. Or rather, he didn’t. Not before getting to know you. In many ways, that fateful evening had changed his life. Had changed him.

Part of him wonders if it’s ever possible again, preferably with you. But he knows such thinking is wishful. Or maybe anxiety inducing. Probably a little bit of both.

Although he’s well aware that (a) the chances of actually running into you here are pretty low, and (b) he doesn’t even know if he could actually take seeing you again, Dean finds himself at the bar’s counter, where he orders an overpriced shot of Tennessee Whiskey and listens to the bartender’s overenthusiastic lecture of said local specialty.

She’s a pretty girl, working her charms on any potentially generous patron. Without a doubt she’s able to sweet-talk multiple customers into a huge tip. And fuck it, even Dean indulges and orders a second shot, followed by a third.

Though he swears, sip by sip, the whiskey began to taste like you.

His time here turns into a vicious cycle of nostalgia, wanting to forget, and being forced to remember all over again.

The liquid burns in his throat and it blurs his vision. For a second he thinks he could pretend the girl serving him his fourth drink was you. In his mind her hair changes its color to yours, but when he realizes he’s not able to get your voice right, he’s giving up.

What a horrible idea to come to this bar of all places to forget about you. What a laughable idea to hope he might see you again. Pathetic, even. Both of it. All of it. All of him.

No matter how cute — and under different circumstances, he might’ve hit on her in more serious fashion — she’s not you. She never could be, nobody can. And maybe she doesn’t have to be.

“You know, sweetheart,” he trails off, committed to erasing you from his memory tonight.

The woman giggles and it sounds so wrong in his ears. Her cheeks warm up but the pink shade doesn’t look right to him.

“I know I ordered a strong whiskey,” Dean grins, albeit the curl of his lips is lopsided and the words feel wrong in his mouth. “But I didn’t expect—”

It’s all too different from when he’d say these words to you. Not to mention how unfair it feels towards the girl, to you, even to himself to recycle that cheap tactic.

He doesn’t get to finish his act anyway. Not when the scent of sweet vanilla and strawberries wafts through the air and swallows his attention whole. He interrupts himself midsentence, heart threatening to leap into his throat and blocking any and every further word.

He’d recognize the perfume anywhere. Or the electricity that crackles dangerously within the small space between his arm and that of the new patron. His green eyes barely dare to glance to the source of the dizzying aura.

At last, they settle on the stool next to his. Where you’re making yourself comfortable, nonchalantly combing your fingers through your hair — it’s gotten longer since he’s last seen you — and smiling at the waitress.

“What he was trying to say,” you speak and your voice makes his heart burst on the spot, “is to add another one to his tab. Along with one glass of wine, please. Red.”

Dean must’ve been staring and gaping at you like an idiot, mouth still open in shock and eyes just as wide, because you give him a brief one-over and giggle softly. That godforsaken giggle that makes every fiber of him buzz with warmth.

“Hey, Dean,” you smile and even though it’s a little tense, awkward even, you pull it off with such ease. “I gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

How you can just start up a conversation with him baffles him. Then again, you always had the ability to make things seem so easy.

He’s still busy trying to process that you’re here, right next to him. Too busy to realize he’s looking like a complete idiot — already tipsy, caught red handed, and unable to come up with a proper response.

“What brings you to Nashville, Dean?”

Where he can’t get out a single word, you keep talking to him as if nothing happened. As if you didn’t walk out that door all those months ago. You avert your gaze from him and glance over to the waitress that’s tending to your order.

If he didn’t know it any better, he’d say there’s a spark of jealousy dimming the familiar spark in your eyes.

You lower your voice. Hell, you lean closer to him and your elbow touches his and since he can’t freeze anymore than already, he thinks he might turn into stone and marble instead. Your smirk is subtle but mischievious while you whisper to him: “Looking for love?”

Dean’s pretty sure that he’s already found it.

“Sammy and I are workin’ on a case nearby,” he finally manages to explain, after clearing his throat. He picks up his empty glass, deft fingers toying with its rim.

You purse your lips, then you press them together into a thin line, before releasing the plump of it with the faintest pop. You’re trying to kill him, you have to be.

“Didn’t know you were around here still,” he mumbles and prays you don’t notice the tremble in his voice — or, if you do, that you’ll attribute it to the abundance of whiskeys he’s had.

“I never left,” you reply swiftly.

He can’t help but cringe. Because you have. You have left it all behind.

The bartender returns with another shot of whiskey and a glass of wine. She blinks between you and Dean for a second, before reluctantly turning her back on you two. Dean knows his chances with her are blown, but that’s not what he’s bitter about.

He’s bitter about you. About you waltzing in and stomping on his ripped out heart.

“Sorry,” you sigh with a pout, “I ruined your game.”

Without a word, Dean sets his empty glass down onto the counter.

“It’s just… well, I saw you sitting here and thought I should say hi,” you continue.

He picks up the new glass, still not responding.

“It’s been a while, I thought we could catch up and—”

Dean finally looks up, straight towards you with an expression that’s difficult to read, but apparently enough to shut you up. Apparently he’s not happy seeing you. Or maybe he is, he honestly doesn’t know himself.

“What kind of reunion were you hoping for, sugar?”

Your eyes widen at his question, even more so at the use of that petname. An endearment you haven’t heard him say to you in so long. It used to be such a casualty, something you’ve always taken for granted, that you’re shocked you forgot its effect.

“I don’t know,” you admit meekly. “I honestly didn’t think we’d ever get one, you know?”

Dean thinks over your answer for a moment. Realistically speaking, he didn’t think so either. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t played out the possibility in his mind more times than he can count.

All that preparation for such an unlikely scenario got him nowhere in the end. He always thought he’d know exactly what to tell you when he’d see you again. But all those speeches and words feel useless now.

He raises his glass in your direction.

“Here’s to surprises, then,” Dean shrugs, the upwards twitch in the corner of his mouth belied by the strain of his jaw.

If you notice his tension, you do not comment on it. Instead, you reciprocate his gesture, your glass clinking gently against his.

Of course you notice. Of course he knows you do.

Just like he knows how aware you are of his eyes mimicking your wine.

The sweet liquid sticks to your lips just like his gaze does. As he watches the red stain your skin and tongue, he wishes he could do the same — leave traces of himself on you so he'll be with you forever, feel the warmth and the plush of you against him one more time.

What Dean doesn’t know is why you have to torture him like this.

It’s no longer his place to desire any of this, any of you. But how can he not crave your sweet taste?

Yet he’s forced to settle for the smooth burn of his drink, which might be honey in color, but can’t compare to the sweetness of your essence.

Fucking hell, he needs to snap out of it.

“You really tried using that line on her, huh?” Your voice is barely audible, but with the world zeroed in on just you two, he cannot possibly miss your quiet utterance.

For a moment he thinks the alcohol is getting to him at last, dulling his senses once and for all — because there’s no way you’re actually bothered by this, is there? Yet you sit there, shoulders slightly slumped, eyes cast down as you stare into the crimson in front of you.

“What?”

You blink up at him, then at your glass again. “The whole strong whiskey thing. You know— nevermind, it’s whatever. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

While Dean’s definitely tipsy enough for the world around him to move a beat slower than usual, he picks up on your intention to leave faster than you can turn around. You hop off your chair and mumble a half-assed “Good night, Dean” and the déjà-vu hits him like a truck.

Another unsatisfying farewell.

Another missed chance.

He can’t bear to watch you leave again.

Instinctively, Dean’s hand reaches for yours. His last self-restraint stops him from grabbing you roughly. Instead, his fingers are ghosting around your wrist, not even touching, just lingering.

“Hold up,” he mutters lamely, to at least say something. Anything. “At least finish your wine, hm? You put it on my tab, after all.”

You do not hide the surprise in your eyes, clearly shocked that he’d want your company after everything you’ve made him go through. You look at him as though you’re asking if he’s sure about this.

“Dean, I—”

“Please.”

You bite your lower lip and reluctantly slip back into your original position. You hold onto the stem of your glass again, though you do not take a sip. It’s almost as if you’re afraid this will all end too soon, if you finish your drink.

“Guess it was sorta like a spell,” Dean hums.

His demeanor is more relaxed right away. The second he’s sure you’ll stay for a bit longer, the crease between his brows disappears and his voice is more steady. As steady as it can be with the liquor adding a natural rasp to his throat.

“A spell?” You echo, wide doe eyes looking at him with wonder.

“Technically, I never said it without you around,” he quips, “If I knew that’s how to summon you, I would’ve tried it much sooner.”

You pause, then you snort. He’s unbelievable, always turning his words into a playful flirtation, always trying to smooth-talk you into a giggle. Successfully so.

Dean drinks in the sound and sight of your joy, comitting it to his memory. Just in case he won’t get the luxury of repeating it.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” you chuckle.

“Maybe not,” he smiles weakly.

Definitely not.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your guys’ past that you could probably ridicule him for it. It’s pathetic, honestly, how he hasn’t been able to move on. Searching for a glimpse of what used to be in the bottom of a bottle, in same old places such as this one, only to distract himself and pretend anything can come close.

Dean’s quick to order another round of drinks for both of you.

Not long after, another round follows.

The drinks keep flowing. As does the conversation, surprisingly. It’s comforting, being able to talk to you after all this time. You don’t reminisce old days, you treat him like he’s not a wreck.

The alcohol loosens your tongues, though he’s ahead of you by far.

In the end, you shake your head towards the bartender and mumble something about how Dean’s had enough. His brows furrow together in protest, but he can’t bring himself to complain. Not when your hands, delicate against his shoulder, urge him to stand up.

Dean only staggers slightly and fishes for his wallet, before he pays for the drinks, but he does subconsciously lean against your supporting touch. The leather of his jacket crinkles under your fingertips as you struggle to hold him upright.

“Alright, cowboy,” you sigh and loop your arm around his back instead. His ends up around your shoulder and he can’t help but notice how natural the proximity feels. Like your bodies were molded for each other.

“I can walk b’myself, sweetheart,” he huffs, drawing another of those addictive chuckles from you.

“You’re gonna tell me you’ll drive like this, too?” Your voice isn’t condescending, but he doesn’t miss the half-scolding, half-teasing edge within. “Where’re Sam and you staying at?”

His eyes narrow and you can see the wheels turning behind his glassy eyes.

He doesn’t remember the name of the motel, does he?

You contemplate on whether or not you should call his brother, but something’s telling you Dean won’t be able to stay awake until Sam’s able to pick him up. He’s already babbling unintelligble nonsense, his weight heavier and heavier on you as his form slumps.

“Okay, big boy, let’s just find you a place to crash,” you suggest, but Dean’s only response is a hum that you can neither identify as approving nor protesting.

You gently pat his back and attempt to nudge him into a more upwards stance. He remains clinging to you like velcro, but removes some of that crushing weight from your shoulder.

“Y’know,” he slurs, “I was hopin’ t’see y’again, but I was also so fuckin’ scared.”

Your cheeks warm at his drunk confession, but you don’t interrupt him. His steps are uncoordinated, but with your guidance, the two of you arrive at your place.

“Been missin’ you,” he mumbles and sighs, “’nd you’re still the only one makin’ me weak.”

“Pretty sure it’s actually the strong whiskey this time,” you laugh in response.

You lead him inside your apartment, where he immediately falls onto the couch. You would’ve offered him the guest room, but Dean’s already sinking into the cushions, eyes closed.

“Honey, nothin’, not even Tennessee Whiskey, can give me whiplash like you can,” Dean insists drowsily.

Words he’ll without a doubt regret, if he can remember them tomorrow.

Your heart flips thanks to his words, but you can’t help feeling like you don’t deserve them. Not after you’ve broken up with him in such cruel fashion, your last heated argument having caused you to walk away back then.

A decision you’ll always regret, one you can never forget — no matter the amount of whiskey or strawberry wine.

With a small sigh, you prepare a glass of water for him in the kitchen.

By the time you’re placing it, along with some painkillers, on the coffee table, Dean’s already fast asleep. At least that’s what the soft, but deep exhales, which border on snoring, make you believe. However, your assumption is proven wrong when you drape a blanket over him, only to find yourself pulled down by strong arms.

Dean’s hands glue themselves to the small of your back, holding you tightly against him.

In his half-asleep state, he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you — sweeter than Strawberry Wine. His lips brush against your collarbone, tracing the warmth of your skin — smoother than Tennessee Whiskey.

Dean Winchester Taglist:

@ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @emma1998sblog

@lyarr24 @charliesangel67 @spn-reader @whump-loverz @cassieriddle713

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @mccartneyqp

Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist. Please note: Ageless blogs/minors will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!

[rubyvhs]

early mornings | sam & dean

tags. pure fluff, mentions of sex once, 800 words lailas notes. loved doing this, first time trying headcannons style nd you didn’t specify so I did both sam and dean. theme inspired by @sammyluvr their’s is honestly so so gorgeous.

sam winchester !

— .✦ You both had sex the night prior, and so Sam is the sweetest human in the morning. It's in the bunker and you're still asleep but he wakes up for his five am runs and just admires you for ten minutes.

— .✦ You eventually wake up and at first are very much panicking. Where is he, did you do something wrong, is he mad.

— .✦ He comes back with breakfast. In bed. 

— .✦ "Sam, I'm really impressed that your best quality isn't your di—"

— .✦ "I'm trying to do something sweet." Yeah but why would he do it if not to hear your teasing?

— .✦ You also just hide your insecurities behind jokes and banter so maybe that's why Sam shut it down when he heard it. You both eat in bed and he picked up your favorite which makes you fall in love (and scream inside) a thousand times more. 

— .✦ You're so insanely terrified but you're also comfortable. He's your best friend and now he's something so much more. You thought yesterday was a one off but he's so clearly in this for the long run that you're beaming the entire day. It's the best morning you've ever had.

— .✦ He even tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, which is just so very fairytale Sammy. And it makes you feel unreal. 

— .✦ He's surprised when you kiss him after you're both done and off the bed. He's even more surprised when you don't immediately leave his room, instead shower in his bathroom and change into his clothes. 

— .✦ He kisses you the second he sees you in his flannel. And he blushes like crazy.

— .✦ Sam hopes he can spend the rest of his mornings in bed with you, and if all it takes is some breakfast he's more than ready.

— .✦ He tells Dean he'll be looking for cases in his room today and doesn't let you go. He never wants the morning to end. He spends the day in bed with you, your head on his lap or his chest, anything as long as you're touching him. 

dean winchester !

— .✦ Your alarm blares AC/DC and he wakes up with a jump, arming his gun under the pillow until he sees that there's no threat.

— .✦ He almost wakes you up just out of principal because why the fuck is your alarm doing nothing to you but waking him win a frenzy.

— .✦ Then he notices how cute you look, hair ruffled on the bed. Your soft breaths make him smile and he leans down to kiss your hair. He's blissed out for a moment and forgets about what you did to him. 

— .✦ Then he checks the time and it's already eleven which means that was your emergency alarm (in case you don't wake up at a reasonable time, you mentioned once). 

— .✦ "Sweetheart, wake up." He says, against his will. He only slightly shakes you but you get up pretty easily since someone else is touching you. You've always been a much heavier sleeper than Dean, not being a hunter from such a young age and all that.

— .✦ He's surprised to see how quickly you get up and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and take a shower (which he joins you in) and then get dressed.

— .✦ But that's about as much as he lets you do. He knows you're an action type of person but that means that sometimes you might not take a moment for yourself and just feel instead, which is the worst thing Dean can think of. 

— .✦ He doesn't want that for you so he gets you back in bed (after he makes it, you're very picky) and you spend a good few minutes above him, straddling his body as you both talk about random things, mostly the plan for the day and it's the most domestic Dean's ever felt. 

— .✦ Your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, it's everything he's ever wanted. Someone to want to be alive with because the only reason you stay alive is to share it with someone else. (After a while Sam doesn't cut it and he'd rather have you over his pain-in-the-ass little brother any time.)

— .✦ You eventually do get on with the day and walk around the bunker, find cases, go grocery shopping, but Dean only does all of those things in suspense of what's to come the next morning; which is another lazy few hours with this ‘one’.

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Reasons why Sylus and MC’s Love is Strong and Enduring

The Front Side

Their relationship may have started in a wrong foot but they gradually (specially MC) come to terms that Sylus will constantly be at her side.

In “No Way Out” and “Radiant Brilliance” Sylus, the ever elusive and strong leader of Onichynus has no problem is showing weakness with MC. This is huge considering Sylus reputation. Being vulnerable and open is not something easy for a man like Sylus, but he let MC see every side of him.

Sylus is the first LaDS men to ever directly tell MC that he loves her and proves it to her in every way possible. (Source: Razor Grip)

Sylus is a man of confidence and conviction. MC is not very fond of him at the beginning (Nor he is fond of her) but I don’t feel that they genuinely hate each other. More like irritated and frustrated. But after all of the things ended in Sylus’ branch of the story, Sylus gradually but firmly makes his way to MC’s life. He always makes sure MC is alright and got everything she needs.

The memory “Wild Gaze” and “Melodic Weave” Is probably where Sylus gets the “sugar daddy” label. He really doesn’t mind spending his fortune with MC.

The Back End

They are on the opposing end of the society. Let’s not forget MC is a Hunter and Sylus is a wanted person of her organization. But romantically involved or not, MC never spilled anything about Sylus upon her return to Linkon from the N109 Zone. From this perspective, MC might be eternally grateful that she was able to return home, but this is huge for her. Considering she is all about being a hunter that not even Zayne is able to stop her from doing dangerous missions, her keeping secrets of Sylus whereabouts ans dealings is no easy feat.

Secret Dates and Escapades Shenanigans. This is one of the best tropes Sylus and MC have. The thrill of not to be caught together adds flavor to their relationship. We can see this on both “Melodic Weave” and voice call “Keep Distance”. Yes, Sylus couldn’t care less about what happened to him but MC is clearly not comfortable in the idea of them being seen together.

Given the conclusion above, they both still makes efforts to be together. And one of my favorite moments of them was during the “Riverbank Scenery” Phone Call. Sylus have to send a”suspicious” letter just to invite her out. And the fact that he called their meeting as a “rendezvous” instead of a date adds to anonymity on it and also heartbreaking. They may not directly say it,but they cannot be seen together. Which is why towards the end of the call, Sylus almost pleadingly ask her to stay with him longer.

The Consequences. By the time the we get to the “Razor Dance” memory, it’s clear that MC already has feelings for Sylus. But they are still keeping things a secret and I feel that the deeper reason for this is MC’s situation. What will happen to her once they are found out? MC might be branded as a traitor and lock her up. I know that Sylus will do anything and literally everything to save her but the real question is, will he risk it? I know for a fact that MC will not die but if the association finds out about it, she might be facing a problem same with what Ever Group is posing. MC has a very valuable asset and there is no guarantee that the Hunters Association will not take advantage of her as well.

The Conclusion

MC do not show any signs of giving up being a hunter or ever leave Linkon. She mentioned it in all the memories under the Wander in Wonder Event. She really hopes to return to Linkon and she misses her home. In the same event in the “Grassland Romance” with Sylus she asks him if he ever consider living in Linkon so they could always meet up and he readily agrees. With this we can assume the extent of Sylus love for her. He is willing to give up everything for her and be anything for her.

But although MC is not ready or willing (Depends how you take it) to give up being a hunter or leave Linkon, we cannot ignore the danger she is putting her self in every time she meets with Sylus. MC inviting him to live in her hometown can be taken as she wants him being in a more peaceful environment to keep him safe.

Their love story ma not be easy flowing but it’s not toxic. It may need a lot of effort, but it doesn’t make it less true. Loving Sylus can be a pain but it’s still rewarding.

[evertidings]

— DECEMBER 2024.

Accomplishments.

I thought I was forgetting something and then I realized it was my monthly update. Oops. So even though we’re a third into the month, here’s what I did in December.

To be quite honest, most (if not all) of what I did throughout the month was work on the Holiday Special. I’m really glad to see that it was well received (honestly, even though I’ve been doing this for a while, putting anything out is stressful so it’s always great to see positive feedback). I’m a bit of a slow writer so it took me a while, but I’m glad it paid off. I always love writing extra content for you guys anyway.

In terms of Chapter 12, I’m back at it this month and slowly chipping away at it. Still no estimated time for when it’ll be released, but I’m hoping Q1 of 2025. Of course, the break last month didn’t help in terms of productivity and word count, but at least it refreshed my mind. I had just finished up writing a big branch (probably close to 15,000 words) so I was pretty exhausted and tired of the content. That happened a lot when I was writing Chapter 11, which eventually led to a big burnout that I am trying to prevent this time around, because, well, it was not fun. But now that I’ve stayed away from Chapter 12 for a bit, I feel excited enough to go back.

I’m currently writing Eliana’s initial meeting with the Hunter and am trying to pinpoint how I want her to come off. Of course, I have a set personality for her, but determining character traits is one thing—actually making sure they are portrayed in writing is another. It’s been a bit challenging so far, but I do usually say that I like a challenge, so I think it’ll be fun.

I’m estimating the final chapter word count to be somewhere around 45-50k—possibly more if I decide to torture myself with another branch—so I’m at least halfway or a third of the way there. None of the chapters have ever surpassed 70k and I doubt this will, so I don’t have to worry there.

For the rest of January, I’m focusing on just getting as much done as possible. My four year anniversary (wtf) is also coming up for this game, so I’m trying to decide what to do for it. I want to write another short, but that would delay Chapter 12 even further so I’m not sure. Perhaps just a set of drabbles? Let me know if anyone has any ideas. As always, take care of yourselves <3

Stats.

Chapter Total: 21,850 words (+1640)

Game Total: ~533,280 words

[thebadboyfanclub]

One Can Only Hope (Cregan x Reader)

First of, I don’t know why this particular song was stuck in my head while I was writing but I think it fits the aesthetic of how the couple works together, also I don’t care that they didn’t pick this actor for me THAT is what Cregan stark looks like, and also sorry for not adding the last detail it just naturally went with a different approach

'may I present my second-born child and my precious only daughter, (y/n) Targaryen, the heiress of driftmark"

(y/n) bowed lightly before the stoic man that it deserves to be noted how thick his fur was which engulfed him, the man nodded as a sign of acknowledgment to the princess and the young heiress (y/n) could swear that she detected a faint smile forming on his lips, to be quite fair no one could tell since the lords' lips were faintly visible due to his distinguished beard, once (y/n)s deep blue eyes met his there was an instant influence on her that cause her to slightly shiver, mostly from anxiety and somewhat fear of the unknown.

(Y/n) could only describe the sensation similar to placing yourself at the very sharp edge of a tall cliff, as one would gaze down at the water the little voice would whisper to take a plunge, release yourself from the shackles of overthinking, whilst your mind begged you to take a step back and forget about all of this.

Unfortunately (y/n) was well aware of the reason why she had to take this long of a flight on dragon back and introduce herself to the new lord of the North, her mother had put a tremendous amount of effort into making this a trip that could be enjoyable too (y/n) but to no avail, she did not blame her mother, ever since she was a toddler (y/n) would catch whispers of numerous people around her castle that would venture on whom she would marry, as the moons passed and (y/n) became a lady the pressure became tighter than her corset.

"judging by the tremble and pink nose you are not accustomed to such a cold environment"

"I'm afraid not, I am willing to try though, if need be"

She suggested as her voice usually would be colourful and loud- something that princess rhaenyra adored- was now barely audible, Rhaenyra dreaded asking this of her only daughter, seven hells the reason she even had (y/n) was because of her failed match that was created under ambition and desperation for allegiance, now she had to bare the curse of the prey becoming the hunter as she set her daughter up in hopes this could bring peace and safety not only to the realm but to their family.

“It is an honor to have the Targaryen family as our guest, I believe last time it was with Queen Alyssane, was it not?”

“Indeed, my lord, though I cannot recall if we have ever United our house bloodline”

“That is correct, such a pity don’t you think Princess Rhaenyra? We must correct that mistake as fast as we can, before all that let me escort you to your chambers, you must rest after such travel”

Cregan's humor was a breath of fresh air for mother and daughter, both of them felt more comfortable through his commentary and light-hearted chatter.

Rhaenyra was extremely thankful that her daughter understood why this must be done if she had to be completely honest with herself partially the reason she chose Cregan as her daughter's match was how the whispers of his strength and his handsome nature made it to the red keep, another thing was a desperate attempt on keeping her daughter guarded, mayhaps if she found refuge in the north of the vicious Hightowers pushed Rhaenyra to war (y/n) would be tucked away and protected by the Lord.

As they walked through the castle Cregan started blabbering about all kinds of things his brain could master, he was certainly nervous when he got the letter from Rhaenyra herself asking for her daughter to be betrothed to him, Targaryen and Starks had, of course, rumors of laying together but never being United in the eyes of the Gods, and to add the fact that the lady is in line for the throne, the wedlock and children would bring such different aspect to his house.

"the lady of the north has to endure the stinging sensation of the icy air, but I believe having a humungous dragon that spews fire on command should help"

Rhaenyra smiled at the slight declaration of interest and almost a very subtle way of claiming their betrothal to be a fact, it was (y/n) 's turn to nod excitedly and let out a small giggle, Cregan was not a man that went unnoticed, young, tall, strong, beautiful, any woman of her status would thank the gods for such a match and a part of her was curious.

Due to the small sign of hope (y/n) careless tucked a strand behind her ear, revealing a part of her to the Lord that he had never seen before.

“Your ear”

He said almost in a question, subconsciously his head tilted in order to get a better view, hastily (y/n) let her hair fall back again, concealing her left ear, flustered and internally cursing herself.

“I don’t believe I have seen something like it before”

“I apologize, I-it is-“

“Unique, I know that Targaryens usually have violet eyes as your mother has, however, I can only guess you found that boring and chose something entirely different, you have quite the taste”

(Y/n)s eyes slightly widen at the kind-hearted nature of Cregan's comment, (y/n) was born with pointy ears, her mother would always jest that it was because the fairies brought (y/n) to her as a gift, others would say that the Targaryens started to blend more with their dragons and that Rhaenyra indulged in blood magic to have the daughter she always wanted.

Gossip and fairytales aside, (y/n) tried her best to conceal that little thing like a well-kept secret that she now had pulled the covers from. Cregan only smiled, (y/n) seemed like a peach on a summer day, full of sweetness, and the nectar could bring back the dead, her smile could make your teeth hurt like how they used to when he ate pie, the pointy ears in his eyes only gave her a boost in her ethereal presence.

Despite that (y/n) had to acknowledge that the man was nothing but a stranger, she had witnessed countless loveless marriages and men that sucked the life out of their wives,  besides all of that she pushed those types of thoughts to the side and masked her dark thoughts for the future with a brave face.

-

"Mother!"

(Y/n) exclaimed as she skipped over to Rhaenyra who rushed to her daughter's side, it had been months since (y/n) had seen her mother, and as content as she was with her new life no one could replace the place Rhaenyra had in her daughter's heart.

"oh my dearest, how lovely it is to see you, take a turn for me let me look at you"

(y/n) let out a snicker at her mother's request even though she complied almost immediately making Rhaenyra nod in approval, to no one’s surprise (y/n) had grown to be a proper lady, her red cape with the thick lining and fur, her hair down and disheveld from riding her dragon, plump red cheeks from eating well, and how could one forget her smile, shining through the realm and blessing her mother with a sigh of relief, Rhaenyra was relieved to say the slightest that her only daughter was taken care of.

"Princess, thank you for inviting us"

"nonsense, I would take any chance to see my baby"

"Mother" (y/n) whispered in embarrassment

"hush now young lady, to me, you will always remain the small babe that curled in my arms, you will know what I'm talking about sooner than late"

"about that, Mother, it might be sooner than you anticipate"

Rhaenyra froze in her spot, her eyes doubling their original size as an audible inhale of breath was heard, (y/n) 's eyes watered and her arms seemed to have a slight tremble whilst she took off her cape to reveal the cutest swollen belly. Rhaenyra stood still for only a second before she wrapped her arms as tight as she possibly could around (y/n) who did the same.

"no, my baby, why didn't you write me about this?"

"I-"

"We wanted to wait this time, I believe you understand, (y/n) wanted to tell you as soon as possible, I advised her not to, forgive me, princess"

Rhaenyra might not have birthed Cregan though she had given birth to (y/n) and that meant that she knew when her daughter was hiding, like now.

(Y/n) wanted to be cautious, after they suffered an early loss of their first baby before her belly could even swell, inevitable fear overtook her, she had refused to ride her dragon for the first three moons and she did her best to remain abed as much as possible.

Thankfully, Cregan shook her out of it, asking her to take a walk as often as his duties allowed him to, he would also attempt to ever so casually bring up how her dragon kept all of the town awake from roaring and complaining, even for this visit  (y/n) only agreed after Cregan offered to get up on the dragon with her so she can feel safe.

"it doesn't matter, all that I care about is that my baby is happy and healthy"

"Don't worry Mother, the north has been extremely good to me"

“For that I am certain, well then, let us celebrate, my little babe is having a little babe”

-

"It is good to see you back and we’ll, my lord"

"it is good to be back, especially with such a catch might I add, tell the cook to prepare the Stagg for supper, give the wild pig for you and the others"

"you are utmost gracious my lord, the princess is waiting for you in your chambers"

"wonderful, do not let anyone disturb us, I wish to stay by her side until supper is served"

Cregan skipped the way into his chambers, he was too caught up in the rush of the hunt and the excitement of reconnecting with his lady wife to notice the nods and stiff giggles of the servants and guards.

He didn't bother to knock, even if he was indecent there was nothing he hadn't seen, secretly he hoped to see her swollen belly bare, as it grew bigger Cregan had adored to kiss on her belly and rub it as he felt the kicks and moves of their child, together they would make plans for the future, like making sure the babe receives an egg for their cradle or getting a wolf cub as a pet.

"my de-"

"shush, you'll wake her"

medusa had cast her spell over Cregan as his eyes focused on the most extraordinary sight, his lady wife holding their babe while she sat up in their bed. (y/n) had never looked more beautiful in his eyes, her hair falling past her shoulders as her arms wrapped around the child and her big eyes sparkling with joy.

The baby was wrapped in a white blanket and (y/n) slightly rocked it, it almost could fool someone that (y/n) had already given birth to numerous children by the graciousness in her moves, Cregan could pull a chair and watch this for the rest of his days, alas his curiosity and excitement rushed him to her side, sitting right next to his lady wife in awe.

"bless me, when did this happen?"

"last morrow, the labors started hours after you left"

"my strong dragon, you did this without me, I must admit I am slightly wounded"

"I did not want to send someone until I delivered her, make sure she is fine and all"

if it was humanly possible Cregan would swear he could hear her trembling heart, as her pleading eyes uncovered the insufferable pain she went through that held hands tightly with distress and a splash of grief.

(Y/n) ached for the babe she had lost, wondering if it had been a boy to a girl, if it would have their father's eyes, or if they would prefer music over hunting, Cregan felt helpless, watching his love suffer as he also grieved in silence, though now it did not matter, the gods took mercy on them.

At just the perfect queue, the small babe cooed pulling both of them out of their trance, simultaneously the pair looked down at the fruit of their ever-growing bond with humungous smiles and cloudy eyes.

"she is gorgeous, once you fully heal we will throw a feast, I'll send some of my best men for a hunt, you should write to your mother, and ask her if she can find Dornish wine-"

"my lord, let us enjoy her before we present her to the realm, she is barely a morrow old"

"she is a princess, our princess"

"Precisely, our princess, come lay with us"

as much as (y/n) comprehends the weight of duty and the strict order of customs that came with such wonderful news, she had grown up with a mother who had wrapped her and her siblings with a cloak to protect their childhood years, allowing them to be kids amid chaos and now it was her time to step up and build a fort that kept her happy and safe.

Cregan puffed out a breath of defeat before he complied and climbed as carefully as a man of his statue could

“Let me see, oh perfect”

“She will grow out of it”

“She better not, maybe the next one can have slit eyes as well”

“My love, I do not believe I can give birth to a full dragon”

“One can only hope”

Cregan jested as (y/n) laughed, the young babe had inherited her mother's ears, Cregan would often brush (y/n) 's hair away from her face to take a look at her ears, or brush his fingers over them as she laid her head on his chest at night, sometimes (y/n) would slap away his hand while he roared with laughter, others she would just bask in his admiration, thanking whoever took favor in her and gave her the man that loved her, pointy ears and all.

Requests are open!

[anantaru]

— their favorite kind of pda (public display of affection)

including kaeya, diluc, kazuha, kaveh, alhaitham, scaramouche, baizhu, heizou x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, very sweet n cute

kaeya likes when it's you who's initiating it instead, when now— you're suddenly looping your hand into his arm and tugging him a bit close too, so you would awkwardly bump into each other and laugh it off afterwards, so that even in the middle of the night, everyone could see and recognize how madly in love the both of you were. another part was the immediate reaction of kaeya, how he‘s trying to play off becoming all flustered, still not addressing it, while his arm was closing around you further until you‘re practically smushed into each other while forgetting where you even wanted to go in the first place. oh, right, good hunter! on the way to eat a good meal, yet kaeya thinks it might be better to take some food home so you could continue your little cuddle session more throughout.

when it comes to master diluc, he— in all his luminosity, adores placing his palm against your lower back. all things considered was it a subtle kind of shifting which you personally did not mind. diluc wasn't a fan of having a dozen pairs of eyes fixated on him, nor on his relationship with you— yes, he couldn't possibly stop it from happening but he at least tried to give nothing away regarding you both, what you were doing wasn't to be anyones business, ever. yet regardless of such, he would never leave an opportunity untouched of showing the public that you're the one who claimed his heart. diluc has the chance now and tenderly placing his palm on your lower back was a perfect motion which would bring the both of you an immediate swift of love and contentment.

kazuha was someone who was never really thinking about it more throughout nor did he never feel like he must show anything of that sorts to the public eye. so, when he meets up with you he'd be very spontaneous with it as well, you could never guess on what it's going to be today or what the man was planning. occasionally he'd get a hold of your hand, or start twirling you around, place his palms on your cheeks and humorously squeeze or add a little peck on the tip of your nose. whatever the case, it was your clear-out favorite, one of his most dearest traits, his spontaneous nature and how he implemented it into your relationship with such ease, this man truly had captured your heart and you won't ever take it away from him.

your sweet boyfriend kaveh was a sucker for holding your hand while sauntering through sumeru city— while, you had to be certain, he'd never let go of you. call it being a small quantity of a protective emotion that would fuel your boyfriends desire to have your palm on his for the entire duration of your meet up. keep in mind, sometimes he doesn't even realize he's still holding onto you and you have to remind him that "love, can you let go of my hand for a bit?" so you could stretch and turn, getting rid of the little burn coming from kaveh's strong grip. "w-why?" would be the next thing you'd hear from him— while now, it's assurance which you were counting on the utmost, because in truth you couldn't get enough of him holding your hand either.

it was quite new for alhaitham to ease into the entire relationship sphere and its supposed doings to consider. for you personally, he can take as much time as he required as long as he was wholly comfortable and happy. while the scribe wasn't a man of big words, he had now, developed a habit of parting his arm for you whenever he was fully engaged and locked into an intriguing new book. lets picture this, you're visiting him after a busy day, while he wouldn't say much he'd now open his arm automatically so you could snugly cuddle yourself into him, slant your cheek into his chest while feeling his tranquil heart beat against your skin as alhaitham carried on to page through his book, which was now, he realizes, a little bit more difficult.

scaramouche wouldn‘t admit it to you, ever, don‘t even think he might consider telling you that, yes, he in fact adores when you catch him entirely off guard and put a little kiss on his cheek— just one, subtle and tender peck on his squishy skin. the next you knew is how he‘s awkwardly averting his gaze and viewing the other direction, just doing something so you wouldn‘t notice the obvious red tint on his milky skin, how the moonlight was glaring right down on it and accentuating his mess of a reaction to you. how come he‘s already longing for another kiss? hidden underneath the night, scaramouche realized it‘s a scenario which certainly had already been written in a romance novel, but it‘s making him feel warm and secured, so he might return the favor now.

you were sure of it, truly, that baizhu had a sweet craving on having you on his lap as much as possible. first of all, it requires no engagement of his own limbs and muscles, he can leisurely stay seated on his work desk while you're taking place— one arm around his neck while you kept the other to yourself or decided to play with his hair. second of all, baizhu could now, talk to you while simultaneously further engage in his research and work load. but not only that, it can also go the exact opposite direction, he especially adored it when out in public, when you're having a sweet picnic and it's baizhu now lowering his head on your lap, so he could rest for a little bit while surrounded by both your scent and the soft melodies of nature— maybe you'll even slant your digits through his hair again, jokes aside, he hopes you'd do it.

how many different kinds of versions regarding pda were accessible to your ordinary person? the pretty detective heizou would make sure to try all of them at least once. your boyfriend thinks it‘s to enjoy and taste each and every thing in life, so why would he only set himself to one of it? in the beginning, heizou will start with holding your hand, testing the waters, while later he‘ll be all over you, mix and matching everything into another. lets say you‘re suddenly meeting a friend, don‘t think he‘d leave you guys to it, heizou will hug you from behind while resting his head on your shoulder, he‘s a perfect smooth-talker and will flawlessly engage himself into the conversation. it‘s known to the public eye that the both of you are inseparable, only showing up as a pair and now you‘re showing it too.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 7: It's Not A Date

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This chapter is just a little bit smaller than the others and it's a little bit of a filler, but I promise that it is preparing for the coming angst!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

“I can’t believe you let him around those children. What were you thinking?” Annie asks wielding a curling iron like a sword. "He's a terrible influence!"

It was t-minus one hour and thirty minutes before the party started and Annie was doing your hair and makeup for the mission. Butcher decided that Ben and you would infiltrate and see if you could find anything suspicious inside, while Butcher, Frenchie, and Mm watched the streets outside the building.

Your chair was turned away from the scuffed vanity in Hughie's bedroom at the apartment the team shared. Why he had that you weren't sure, but you figured it must be for Annie. Her makeup bag, hair spray, gel, cream, curler, flat iron, and other paraphernalia was littering the soft butter colored top. There were more things sitting there than you knew the names of.

Annie had always been better at things like that than you. She'd done your hair and makeup for every high school dance and date you went on, so you'd agreed to let her do your hair and makeup for the mission. Not to mention you trusted her not to make you look too over the top or absolutely ridiculous.

As soon as she had gotten you into Hughie's bedroom she had practically pounced on you, demanding to know everything about the past few days that you had spent living in the apartment with Ben. You'd foolishly told her that you'd had to babysit the Wilson's children last night and she was horrified that you let them anywhere near him.

Granted you also would have had the same reaction if someone had told you that they had let Soldier Boy around little children.

But he wasn't terrible to them. You think to yourself. He was actually kind of sweet. It was the first time that you'd ever associate that word with Ben, but you believed that it was true. You remember how he sat with Marty at the kitchen table and allowed her to make a friendship bracelet for him. A bracelet, that he hadn't thrown away, despite what he'd told you after she gave it to him. You'd found it on the sink in the bathroom this morning when you got up, given a place of honor in the ceramic jewelry dish you used for your bracelets.

After Ben had gone out on his "date" you'd cleaned up, made your last cup of noodle, and then went to bed hoping to forget exactly what Ben was doing. The problem was that you were disappointed and you had no idea why. You'd tossed and turned thinking about Ben and the time you'd spent together watching the kids, until finally falling into an unsatisfying slumber.

Ben had sauntered through the front door at 3 am smelling like perfume and sweat, his hair tousled and standing up like someone had ran their fingers through it, while you were drinking a calming herbal tea from your favorite mug at the kitchen table in a post-nightmare haze. You'd had them your whole life following the accident that took the lives of your parents and was thankful that one hadn't hit when Ben was home. You didn't want to explain to him why you had woken up screaming and gasping for air just as you’d done since you were twelve years old.

When you'd first moved in to the apartment and you'd had the nightmare, Mike had banged against your front door, shouting for you to answer. He'd thought that someone was trying to kill you in the middle of the night, but you'd explained to him that you had nightmares and that you were okay.

The next time it happened, Mike's mother had left a large basket of herbal tea and homemade muffins outside the door of your apartment. Even though the muffins were almost inedible, it was incredibly sweet. You might not have wanted to date Mike, but he and his mother were some of the sweetest people you'd ever met.

When he saw you up, Ben had made a comment about you waiting up for him and stated that he was ready to go again if that's what you wanted, but you'd only waved your hand and rolled your eyes while taking another sip from the mug. You weren’t in the mood, not when you could still feel the chill of sweat against your skin and hear the sound of metal on concrete from the dream. He had sat at the table across from you and asked why you were still awake, you'd lied and told him that you couldn't sleep. You knew that he knew you were lying, but he only shrugged and went to take a shower while you finished your tea and fled to your bedroom to avoid him coming out in a towel again.

"He wouldn't leave. What was I supposed to do? Make him walk the plank?" You respond as Annie inserts the warm curling iron into your hair.

"He's just so-" She tugs your hair back as she curls it.

"It wasn't as bad as you think.” You consider thinking about how he let Martha make him a friendship bracelet and how he had held Joshua and made Joshua laugh. "He was actually kind of nice to Marty and to Josh.”

"Nice? Are you crazy! The guy's got a nuclear reactor in his chest and an uncontrollable temper. Why do you think it would be okay for him to be around children?”

"He didn't get angry or lose control. And I can't believe you're chastising me about this, the other day you were all for Ben and me sleeping together!"

"That wouldn't involve children." She takes another piece of your hair, gently wrapping it around the curling iron.

"Yeah, but it would still be him close to another human being-"

“He seems to be perfectly in control when he has sex. Or else there would be a string of destroyed apartments all over manhattan.”

"I can't believe you." You huff.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Have you guys kissed again?" She asks.

"I shouldn't have told you that." You grumble under your breath. "And can you keep your voice down? Ben can hear you."

He was in his old bedroom getting ready for the mission. The bedroom was exactly next to Annie and Hughie's bedroom, and you were sure that he was listening to Annie and you talk.

Because he can't keep his big nose out of anything. You think. Or rather can't keep his perfectly structured nose out of other people's business.

"I'm sure he has better things to do than listen to the two of us talk." Annie responds, but she begins to blast the ABBA gold album from her Bluetooth speaker, filling the room with the sound of 'Our Last Summer' "Come on-"

"Come on what?" You open one of your eyes to glare at her. "I told you it wasn't going to happen again."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. Ben is- Ben. And I don't want to waste my time with someone who's not interested in having a relationship." You shut your eye again to avoid her gaze.

"It's not a waste of time if he looks like that-" She trails off, inserting the curling iron one more time.

"I will agree that Ben is good-looking, but that's all he is. He doesn't care about other people, he only cares about himself and what feels good." You say it, but for the first time since you'd met Ben you weren't sure if it was true. Not after he spent his entire day yesterday helping you with the kids and not after he had bought you that bookshelf.

He cared enough to get that for you. A little voice whispers. But why? You wonder again. Why would he care about something as little as a bookshelf?

"You're making that face again." Annie says. "Did something happen?"

"No. I mean- he-" You sigh to yourself. "He keeps confusing me."

"How?"

"Well the other day he bought me a bookshelf."

"What? Why?"

"Because he said that stack of books in my bedroom was annoying him." You roll your eyes behind your eyelids.

"Why was he in your bedroom?" Annie's smirk is audible and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Shut up. He needed some clothes and I had some from the last time Darren stayed with me-"

Annie audibly groans when you mention your brother's name. They didn't get along. She thought that he was manipulative and that he used you. But you didn't see it. He was your brother, your blood, the only family you had left beside your grandmother and Annie.

"Please tell me he's not coming by soon. If he does I will be busy doing anything else."

"I don't know why the two of you can't just get along-" You sigh.

"Because he's the worst." Annie states loudly, dropping the curling iron and bringing the mascara brush up to your eyes.

"Can we please not have this conversation again?"

"Fine. Close." Annie holds up the mascara brush to your eyes. "Did you at least join one of those online dating apps or try to go on a date?"

"It’s been 3 days since we last talked about this-“ You feel the gentle stroke of the brush against your eyelashes.

“So?”

“No I haven’t.”

"Y/n-"

"I know, I know. I mean Jake did try to ask me out the other day but-"

"He WHAT?" Annie squeals, awkwardness about your brother forgotten. "Next time lead with that! Did you go out with him? Did you guys talk all night long?" Annie is hoping from foot to foot now, practically dancing to the music still blasting from the speaker on the dresser.

"I said no." You open your eyes to look at your friend.

"WHAT! Why?" She looks like you kicked a puppy. "He's so perfect for you! He likes plants and he's funny and he's got a great sense of humor, plus he's gorgeous and he's interested in you-"

"First he wanted to do something today and I knew Butcher had plans for me. Second, I didn't know he was asking me out, Ben told me he was." You close your eyes again so Annie can continue to do your makeup.

"Wait, Ben was there when he asked you out?" 

"We went to IKEA to get a couch for the apartment and Jake showed up and asked me out." You explain.

"You took Ben to IKEA?"

"He'd never gone there before, can you believe that?" It made you smile as you remembered how surprised he had been when you went inside. You’d had fun with him, walking around, testing out the couches, it almost felt… normal. And you kind of got the impression that Ben had a good time too. It was kind of cute when he did everyday things, when you saw him in normal settings and he was just a little bit awkward because he still couldn't figure out how to act in another time period.

"Yes I can, he's a million years old. Let's circle back to you saying no to the PERFECT man."

"He's not a million." You defend Ben. "And Jake's not perfect." You frown to yourself, thinking about the fact that Jake wasn't a supe. It wasn't something that you had cared about before, but ever since Ben brought up the idea of you "snapping Jake in half" it scared you.

Because what if I did? What if I hurt him? You didn’t know how Ben had sex so often with people who weren't supes. Maybe he just doesn't care if he does. Or maybe he’s done it so much that he’s able to control himself.

"What do you mean? I thought you liked him?"

"I mean I do. He's kind and he understands me and he loves plants as much as I do, but-" You shrug, feeling Annie begin to apply eyeliner. "I don't want to make things complicated. I mean we work together, he’s my boss. What if it doesn’t work out? Then I’d have to quit and I like my job.”

“I mean that’s kind of hot-“

“Hot in what? A sexual harassment kind of way?”

“No. It’s not harassment if it’s two consenting adults.”

“I’m still not sure that it’s a good idea.” You mutter more to yourself. But this time your mind didn’t go to Jake and you having a relationship even though he was your boss, instead it goes right to Ben. You can't help but slip into the fantasy of dating Ben, of you and him trying something new-

You shake off the image. He doesn’t want a relationship, doesn’t think that’s important. The thought is almost like a mantra, trying to convince yourself to push past Ben’s charm and good looks, but this time it makes you consider something else. Maybe he doesn’t think it’s important now, but maybe he used to think it was before Countess.

You’d heard the stories, seen the newspaper articles and clips of film of Ben and her together, remembered what Hughie said that Ben had wanted a family with her that Ben had told her that he loved her. That meant at some point in Ben’s life he had loved someone else, cared for them, wanted to be more than just fuck buddies.

Maybe he's just afraid to fall again, because he's not sure someone else will be there to catch him. Maybe Ben doesn't want to admit that he cares for anyone else because he's afraid that they'll push him away or stab him in the back the way that Countess did. And maybe he hides it all underneath the macho attitude.

Ben is strong. He told me that he didn't need anyone else. You press your lips together in a tight line. But I think he does.

You hated that she’d hurt him. You hated that she’d pushed him away, told him she never loved him, and stabbed him in the back. You couldn’t imagine doing that to someone, telling them that you loved them, and manipulating them with the promise of love. It almost made you nauseous to consider it. It made you want to travel back in time to the moment she stabbed him in the back and shove a bouquet of sunflowers up where the sun don't shine.

You pause on the thought. You weren't a terribly violent person, but if someone ever hurt your friends your anger was legendary, practically divine. You'd never thought that you'd want to do something for Ben, but you were realizing more and more that Ben was becoming your friend. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

“Alright what if he wasn’t your boss.” Annie gently brushes eyeshadow over your eyelids. “Then would you go out with him?”

“But he is my boss.”

“Use your imagination.”

The song has ended and there’s an awkward pause between the end of it and the slow beginning of the next one.

“I mean yes?” You shrug. “I can see myself with him. He’s the kind of person I’d want to date. He cares about other people, he remembers what kind of coffee I like, he actually contributes to the conversation, he makes me laugh, he actually gets my jokes, he’s nice to sit with, he doesn’t get under my skin-“ As you list each of those things you couldn't stop your mind from comparing Jake to Ben. You didn't know when Ben became the level by which you judged other men, but it had happened sometime in the past few days and you didn't know what it meant.

But Ben did remember what kind of coffee I like and he does contribute to conversations, well, he contributes with a disgusting comment… The thought trails off when you remember the small conversations that you'd had with Ben that weren't sexual in nature, when the two of you watched the movie on the couch and talked briefly about your parents, when Ben asked you how your day was the other day back at the apartment, and when the two of you talked on the couch while the children slept between the two of you. In those moments you had seen another side of Ben, the side that he seemed to hide away from everyone else, but not from you, not all the time.

Plus Ben is kind of funny sometimes, disgusting but funny. Doesn’t understand my jokes. And yes he gets under my skin but sometimes it’s kind of exciting and nice to have that happen. With Jake sometimes he’s just too happy or too eager to agree with me.

"Hmm." Annie considers. "How did Ben react when Jake asked you out?”

You don’t answer immediately. “Normal.”

"You hesitated"

"No I didn’t."

"Yes you did! He reacted didn’t he?!” Annie pokes you with her finger

"No he didn’t.” You lie.

“He did! Holy shit he was jealous wasn’t he?”

"No he wasn’t.” You swat her hand away. "He was just opinioned."

He sure looked jealous. You think to yourself remembering the way he glared at Jake from the other side of the room. The memory of the way his eyes darkened when he told you exactly why he wasn't jealous and exactly what he would do to you to make you forget all about Jake sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Yeah. Opinionated over why you shouldn't go out with Jake because Ben wants you all to himself." Annie crows.

"Shut-"

"But it doesn't matter. Because Ben's going to have a heart attack when he sees you wearing this." Annie steps back from you. "My work here is done. Try to make it to the mission without ripping each other's clothes off."

"We are not going to-"

Annie spins your chair back to the mirror and your next words dry up.

Your hair is perfectly curled back from your face, the lipstick is a dark shade of crimson that makes your lips look fuller and more plump, the eye make up is dark and dusky making the color of your eyes pop against the darkness in a mysterious alluring way that seems almost hypnotic, and your face is shaded and contoured so well that you look dangerous and sexy.

"I'll take the silence as a 'Thank you Annie! You're so beautiful and talented and you're the best friend I've ever had!'" She laughs, standing back behind you with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I mean all of that is true, but-" You stand up from the chair to get a better look. "You've really outdone yourself."

"Well thank you. Had to. It's your first date with Ben." She makes goo-goo eyes and you try to punch her in the shoulder, but she dodges it.

"Shut up. It's not." You look down at the dress that Butcher picked out for you to wear. "I love you, but I hate Butcher."

The dress was a red scrap of fabric that clung to your curves, but left very little to the imagination. It was completely backless with an exaggerated wrinkle that fell just over the top of your ass. The front was sinched at the back of your neck secured only by a small piece of fabric that you were afraid would break at any moment and fell open in a "v" that stopped just under the swell of your breasts. There was a large prominent slit that cut up the left side of the floor length gown that stopped just shy of the top of your thigh. Annie had cinched a black choker around your neck to match the black pair of stilettos you wore

Personally, you though that the stilettos were overkill, you had no idea how the hell you were going to run after the supe if you saw him, let alone fight him.

"You look so hot." Annie says pleased. "You really should wear that all the time babe. I'd take you out to dinner just to show you off."

"You're the worst." You groan.

"I love you too honey." She winks. "Now come on. Butcher and the others are waiting for us." She turns off the speaker and walks out the door of the bedroom, but you linger there, looking at yourself in the mirror one more time.

You'd never worn anything remotely like this before, but even you had to admit, you looked good.

“Come on Poppet. You can’t hide in there forever.” Butcher chuckles from the living room.

He’s having too much fun with this. You huff to yourself finally leaving the bedroom to make your grand entrance, grabbing the black bejeweled clutch as you do.

Butcher, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie are waiting outside the door while Kimiko sits on the couch scribbling away.

Hughie's mouth drops open,  Butcher gives an approving shrug, and Frenchie lets out a breath.

"You look beautiful." Frenchie takes your hand and gives you an appreciative twirl.

"Shut up." Your cheeks redden.

Hughie is still looking speechless at you. "I told you." Annie states elbowing him with a proud smile.

“You look-“ Hughie stutters.

“Good enough to eat.” Ben finishes, appearing in the hallway to your right. His hand traces the curve of your hip, thumb ghosting over your bare back.

“Just because I’m dressed like a hooker, doesn’t mean my brain’s not working.”  You slap his hand away ignoring the warm feeling that remains where he touched you. You could feel your heart beat begin to pick up in your chest.

“Baby I love your brain-“ Ben smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t love your body more.”

You felt your cheeks turn the same shade as your dress with his compliment before you can stop them. It was difficult to pretend that you didn't feel any attraction for him, not when he looked so good.

He had trimmed his beard and brushed back his dark hair, so you could see his emerald colored eyes gleaming. He was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt, but chose not to wear a black tie, instead unbuttoning the top few buttons to give just a hint of his muscular chest beneath.

Why does he have to look so good all the damn time?

“Shut up.” You grumble turning back to Butcher. “So are you happy? I dressed up, my IQ dropped a billion points.”

“Ecstatic poppet.” Butcher grins taking a sip from the cup of tea in his hand. “Now remember anything happens, you detain the supe, no killing."

“He’s talking to you.” You elbow Ben.

Ben shrugs. “I won't apologize for doing my job."

You sigh again and walk towards where Kimiko is writing in one of her workbooks on the couch. 

"You look hot." She signs at you.

It had been difficult to learn the sign language she used, but you liked to think that you had a handle on it so you could understand simple conversations. When things got too confusing she would use her phone.

"I know. I was mad at Butcher at first for picking this dress, but I kind of like it." You sign back. "Don’t tell Butcher I said that."

She crosses her fingers over her heart. "Soldier Boy is looking at you."

"He’s always looking at me. I'm glad I can't read minds. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking."

Kimiko snorts, raising her hand to sign "I think the look on his face says it all."

You half turn and look at where Ben is again, he’s not talking to Butcher like you thought he was, he’s staring at you, pupils dilated, eyes darkening in a way that makes your heart feel like it's beating so hard it'll explode out of your ribcage.

No. No. Keep it together. Heart of a warrior.

"You two have fun!" Annie smirks widely, taking a picture of Ben and you like you're going to prom and you know she's going to send the photo to taunt you with it later.

“Shall we?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Ladies first.” Ben smirks.

 You roll your eyes at him as you walk to the front door of the apartment. “Don’t pretend to be a gentleman Gramps. We both know you just want to look at my ass.”

“I’ll never get tired of looking Doll, especially not when you’re wearing something like that.”

A/N: I know this chapter is a little bit of a filler, but I wanted to give Annie and the reader some time together, aka. Annie telling the reader to do the one thing that we ALL know she should do. 😂

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry

[dulcescorderitas]

hiiiii! i hope you’re doing great 🩷 i was wondering if u could write about dean and/or winchester (it could be romantic or platonically), and reader, despite being a highly skilled hunter as them, she/he/them have a extensive skincare routine 🧖🏿‍♀️ and tons of products and also has candles 🕯️ to aromatize whatever hotel room they’re staying in? maybe i’m a little biased bc it’s something i would def do lol 💅🏿 of course it’s up to u to write it or not xx

author's note: hope you like it!

the tiny hotel room buzzed with its usual chaos—sam hammering at his laptop, dean fiddling with the radio until static gave way to a gravelly classic rock station. you, meanwhile, had claimed the bed nearest the window, methodically unpacking your arsenal of serums, creams, and candles from a sleek black case. the clash of your indulgent habits with the winchesters’ bare-bones lifestyle was a contradiction you’d long since stopped noticing, but tonight, it seemed to hold their attention.

“are we setting up a séance, or did bath & body works have a blowout sale?” dean asked, smirking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his leather jacket.

sam glanced up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow but wisely staying silent.

“keep it up,” you deadpanned, lighting a lavender candle with a practiced flick of your lighter. “i can always start charging you both for the free aromatherapy.”

the soft glow spilled across the scratched furniture and faded wallpaper, the soothing scent instantly cutting through the motel musk. dean’s smirk lingered, though his nose wrinkled faintly when you spritzed rose water over your face.

“you’re telling me you haul this crap around on every hunt?” he asked, waving at the array of tiny jars and bottles now lined up on the nightstand.

“it’s called self-care, dean,” you replied without missing a beat. “you should try it sometime. your skin looks like it’s fighting for its life.”

“she’s not wrong,” sam chimed in, earning a glare from his brother. “and for the record, the room already smells better.”

“traitor,” dean muttered, but his eyes drifted back to the candle, then the jade roller you’d just pulled out. “what the hell is that thing?”

“a jade roller,” you said, voice deliberately sweet. “it helps with lymphatic drainage.”

“sounds fake,” he grumbled, though his gaze didn’t waver.

you took your time, smoothing a honey-oat cleansing balm over your skin with deliberate, indulgent motions. sam watched with barely-concealed interest, while dean lounged on the bed’s edge, boots off but still visibly torn between curiosity and skepticism.

“so what, all this actually works?” dean asked, the words reluctant but edged with intrigue.

“why? you want to try?” you baited, not looking up.

“hell no,” he said immediately, but his resolve was already cracking. sam, ever the voice of reason, set his laptop aside.

“i mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? maybe we wouldn’t look like we’ve been living out of a car for a decade.”

dean groaned, but he didn’t argue when you tossed a washcloth at him. “fine,” you said, grinning as sam caught the second one. “sit your asses down, and let me show you how it’s done.”

sam caved first, obediently following your instructions as you handed him a bottle of cleanser. dean stayed where he was, arms crossed, until you pointedly ignored him in favor of complimenting sam’s technique.

“all right, fine,” he huffed, shuffling over. “hit me with your witch potions or whatever. but if i break out, you’re paying for it.”

“deal,” you said, fighting back a laugh as you handed him the balm. “start with this. rub it in—don’t forget your neck.”

watching dean winchester awkwardly smear product across his face was a moment you’d treasure forever. sam, already mid-toner, stifled a laugh. “you’re doing great, dean.”

“shut up,” dean muttered, his tone lacking any real heat. the faint twitch of a smile betrayed him.

by the time you broke out the sheet masks, all three of you were seated on the beds, faces glistening under the candlelight. the room smelled like lavender and chamomile, its usual harshness replaced with warmth and calm. dean grumbled about how “fucking weird” the mask felt, but he didn’t take it off. sam, predictably, leaned into the experience, asking questions about ingredients until dean threw a pillow at him.

“admit it,” you teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “you feel better.”

neither of them answered, but the way dean’s shoulders relaxed and sam’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile told you everything you needed to know.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[extinctionstories]

What Remains, an 8x10 gouache painting and accompanying poem, inspired by specimen no. 7866, a Carolina Parakeet mount held in the collection of the Charleston Museum. I was able to view six preserved parakeets during my visit, but I was deeply moved by this one: in too poor of condition to be publicly displayed, stripped of feathers and provenance—its identity lost to time, just as its species has been.

Excerpted from my art book Grasping at Feathers.

(transcript and commentary under the cut.)

Shadow surrounds a doused candle,* Forgotten at the back of a drawer.

Pot pot chee, Puzzi-la-née,** Head-of-Yellow, once blazing: A raucous flame that licked through summer orchards, And set the gray boughs of winter aglow, Warmed by the soft nuzzle of clustered wings.

All that remains is this: A cracked and peeling thing; An inanimate amalgam of plaster and shellac; Flecked green with arsenic;*** Fraying feathers of faded straw.

Who is left that can remember? That can say for certain, That this dusty relic, Was ever anything more?

We have lost our parrot, Our only, only, only.

We let this wonder slip through our fingers; What more will we forget

* I always come back to the image of the Carolina Parakeet as a candle, inspired by the Christmas tree eyewitness account.

** native Seminole names for the parakeet

*** arsenic was the first effective method found of protecting taxidermy specimens against insects, and was used expansively throughout the 19th and early 20th century. Specimens of this age should not be handled without gloves.

**** The Carolina Parakeet was America’s only native endemic parrot. The last known individual died in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1918, and the species was declared extinct in 1939.

Specimen no. 7866 is of unknown age, sex, and geographical origin. In the late 19th century, many hunter-collectors shot large quantities of birds for the purpose of selling them to museums, and in many cases records of their kills were either lost or not made in the first place. Based on my research, it is likely that this bird came from Florida in the late 1890s, but this cannot be confirmed with certainty.