#not much is really said here but just in case

[isa-ghost]

Maybe this is extremely incorrect or narrow of me to think in some way, but

When you learn about Hitler's takeover in school, I feel like you always imagine it being so much bigger, even bigger than it already was, like more... I don't know how to explain it. Like it stopped every single other aspect of life for everyone ever. Because like. Y'know, gigantic historical event. Like unfathomable degrees of impact on a global scale, even if that was only the case after years of damage.

And yet here we (Americans) are, living through something that has terrifying amounts of parallels to the start of all that, and like... Nope. Life doesn't freeze, not everyone feels an instant tangible change for the worst. People are still living out their daily lives, doing whatever their version of mundane life is, whether it's working for less than minimum wage at a shitty retail job, doomscrolling on the toilet at home, seeking out somewhere to stay warm and safe, etc.

Like no matter what life is like for them, everyone is acutely aware one way or another that this is happening and ongoing, but chances are it probably isn't completely derailing their average day (I'm having a hard time wording this in a way that emphasizes there's an element of privilege involved in this and keeps the people who will be impacted ASAP by things like ICE raids and such in mind but the sentiment is there, sorry).

Like. This is the next 4 years of our lives. I'm a poor, queer, neurodivergent woman. And I'm still more privileged than some people despite being quadruple disadvantaged (for a lack of better term). But I feel like I'm living a death sentence despite that privilege. And you'd think that, given I feel that way, what's happening today and will be happening for the next 4 years would feel more real than it does right now? Like I wouldn't be sitting in my home completely objectively fine, casually posting here on Tumblr feeling existential and spending an embarrassing amount of time trying to word what I'm thinking in a way that isn't/doesn't feel ignorant in some way.

But no. We're on the precipice of god knows what and it's not consuming very single American's life including mine in every single conceivable way like how you (or at least I, I guess) imagine it was for every single person back before/during WWII.

I dunno, I guess I'm just really feeling like this meme right now.

And it's all only made worse by the fact that like. The election was rigged (said by Trump himself btw) and there are a million other blatantly obvious reasons this shouldn't be happening. And yet it is. Like not only do we have to endure unimaginable amounts of dread for years to come, but we have the knowledge that this should not be happening to begin with but everything is so fucked up and the people that could do something to stop it are so fucking stupid and only out for themselves that it's happening anyway.

Edit: Can't believe I have to add this, but zionists and neo-nazis get the fuck out of here. Please choke to death, actually.

[sidneywasfound]

TOO MUCH INFORMATION | Oscar Piastri x Fem!Singer!Latina!Reader

SUMMARY; 🇧🇷 💞 You and Oscar decided to go vacation to Brazil after one of your shows,It was a beautiful experience that you decided to share on social media. Oscar definitely didn't think anything weird when he saw an interview of his outgoing girlfriend being trending top on Twitter... until he remembered how bold and reckless she can be without realizing it.

WARNINGS; SMAU,Fluff,talks of sex,reader is outgoing and bold,Reader speaks spanish,Reader wrote Bed chem,Use of y/n (one time) Photos from Pinterest (not mine!!),Portuguese Translated with translator hehe,Probably Bad English writing,English is not My first language

AUTHORS NOTE; I wanted to thank you all for the support you gave me on my last fic andd that You can go and take a look right heree ♡

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

Jan 18 via Instagram

yourusername

Liked by lando,oscarpiastri and 2.345.089 others...

yourusername; ¡Muchísimas Gracias por todo el apoyo Brasil! Eu amo muito todos vocês! 🇧🇷🤍

View all comments ...

Oscarpiastri; How are you so beautiful and talented?? 😍. └yourusername; Te amooo hermosoo❤️

username; Not Oscar being a simp for her in the comments 😭

username; I LOVE YOU

username; I was there!!!

username; WE LOVE YOU Come back to Brazil soon!! Liked by author ♡

username; I heard you're staying longer in Brazil? Is that true? I hope so!

yourbffusername; HERMOSAA,espero poder verte pronto amiga ❤️ └yourusername; Eso espero amiga ❤️ te amoo

username; NOBODY IS GOING TO TALK ABOUT BED CHEM OUTRO?!?! She really is bold compared to the other WAGS thats why i love her 💋. Liked by autor ♡

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

yourusername via instagram story

"Brasil had really good bed chem 💋🇧🇷"

Liked Oscarpiastri,Alexandrasaintmleux and 324.789 others...

Limited comments

yourbffusername;From one day to the next I find myself with the best girl in Brazil?!?!

yourbffusername; btw you sexy mami in bed chem 😍

lando; WHY DIDN'T YOU INVITE ME?

Alexandrasaintmleux; I think Lando is jealous...you don't know it's a girls' day out! and Oscar thirdwheeling...🥲

oscarpiastri; that outro it's...

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

Jan 23 via Instagram

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri,sabrinacarpenter and 3.056.789 others...

yourusername; 🇧🇷💞 This would be like a January dump???

View all comments...

sabrinacarpenter; Gorgeous girlll 💞. └yourusername; 💕 love youu

yourbffusername; 😍😍😍😍

oscarpiastri; You really posted my photo sunbathing with the helmet... └yourusername; pero te ves bien!! Me hiciste sentir cosas de lando Norris 😍🫦🫦 └lando; HEY I don't know what you said but I take it as an offense just in case...

username; i'm sorry...GIRL WHAT?!!?!? this girl is social anxiety worst fear

username; I love how she is so..."explícit", like I feel like the fourth photo would be a weird thing for a WAG to post, ESPECIALLY IF SHE'S OSCAR'S (the most shy guy ever) GIRLFRIEND └username; I KNOW,Although I feel that some Latinos are naturally like that lmao.BUT GOD OSCAR HOW ARE YOU GOING TO PRESUME THIS IN FRONT OF PEOPLE WITH HUNGER 😍

username; She delivered if i may...

username; LISTEN TOMORROW SHE WILL DO AN INTERVIEW ON A LATIN PODCAST WHICH IS NOW IN BRAZIL!!! can wait to see it

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

Jan 24 via instagram story

"Enjoying some time before the interview with my amigos latinos!!"

Likes by oscarpiastri and 897.507 others...

comments

yourbffusername; GIRLL

username; MAMI ?!😍

username; NANAA HERMOSAA

username; Me seeing my girlfriend after saying that I only came here to see Oscar 😍😍

username; OSCAR You need to share her!!

username; He brags this in front of the poor people, how humble he is not 😓

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊°

Jan 24 via a podcast!

It was beautiful, you felt at home,They asked you interesting questions about your career which you answered with joy. The environment became more comfortable turning into a fluent fun and... bold side.

"así que fuiste a Brasil con tu novio,no?" Lara said.(So you went to Brazil with Oscar, right?)

"oh sí...la pasamos estamos pasando súper bien!,es una lastima que en una semana se acabe todo..."You said sadly.(Oh yes...we are having a great time! It's a shame that everything will be over in a week...")

"jaja pues entonces que aproveche estos días al máximo,salgan a citas...vayan a la playa...vean la vista del balcón del hotel acurrucados..." Juan joked.("Haha, well then make the most of these days, go on dates...go to the beach...enjoy the view from the hotel balcony while you cuddle...")

You laughed covering your mouth understanding what kind of topic the conversation was leading to."ahh si,si...tranquilo que estamos disfrutando muchiiisimo,bastante créeme" You said playing with the microphone.(Ohh yes, yes... don't worry, we are enjoying it very much,quite much Believe me).

They both laughed and played along with your joke."Enserio?,ok pero dinos más! Queremos detalles!,que hacen..en el...día" Lara said camouflaging her question.(Really? Ok, but tell us more! We want details! What do you do...on the...day?).

You laughed and Juan looked at you ."tampoco creo que quiera decir mucho! Tiene que mantener su imagen." He scoffed.(I don't think she wants to say anything either!, she needs to keep her image clean.)

You laughed mischievously."oh no...el problema es que mi novio es muy tímido!" You said as an excuse.(Oh no the problem is that My boyfriend is very shy!).

"claro...pero del otro lado de la puerta también?, es como Sabrina Carpenter dijo!" Lara said looking for details.(Sure...but what about the other side of the door?...it's like Sabrina Carpenter said!)

"Me quedaré callada para no ponerlo en una situación incómoda jaja pero...tampoco voy a mentir sobre que no lo disfruto todas las noches!" You said to burst out laughing,Lara and Juan opened their eyes wide and laughed with you.("I'll keep quiet to not put him on the hot seat haha but... I'm not going to lie about not enjoying doing it every night either!")

"Por suerte la señorita era tranquila!" Juan said laughing.(Luckily,the lady was calm!)

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊°

Jan 25 via isntagram

oscarpiastri

Liked by lando,Charles_leclerc and 2.034.589 others...

oscarpiastri; I really enjoyed Brazil! 🇧🇷 (I don't want to talk about it)

View all comments

lando: Well I guess it was good that they didn't invite me, I didn't want to interrupt their "happiness". └oscarpiastri: shut up

username: lando 😭

username: GIRL-

username: THAT'S WHY HER FRIENSD LEFT BRAZIL BEFORE THEM??!

yourusername: jiji sorry didnt wanted to expose you i'm that way 😚 Liked by author ♡

username: this girl is going to kill him one day

nicolepiastri: I hope you enjoyed it! Liked by autor♡

username: not nicole commenting 😭

username: y/n and Oscar's managers must be about to scold her lmfao

username: i Guess this prove they really have bed chem 😅

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊°

[uncle-fruity]

I appreciate everything OP said here, and so much of it rings true. And while we're on this topic, I wanna bring up something I've been mulling over that I think is related.

We have got to stop thinking of marginalized people as a monolith -- even when that homogenized version in our heads is mostly positive. What I mean is that not every trans person is a good person. Just like not every cis person is a bad person. There will be trans people who are uninformed, willfully ignorant, rude, mean, abusive, manipulative, misogynistic, hypocritical, and honestly pretty bad allies to anyone who they don't understand or don't like or who challenges their worldview. There will be cis people who are extremely well-read on the issues, understanding, supportive, encouraging, open-minded, willing to listen & learn, kind, respectful, dedicated transfeminists, and honestly some of the best allies you'll ever have.

There is this sort of underlying assumption that trans people will always understand each other better than anyone else, that we are safer with our own, but that's not always the case. It is fair to assume that trans people are more likely to connect with and understand each other, but it is (clearly, as demonstrated) not guaranteed.

That's because we are humans! Humans are messy, complex, often hypocritical, nuanced beings. We all have different experiences, surroundings, relationships, beliefs, and priorities that make us who we are. Gender is just one facet of the many many things that come together to make us wholly human. Being trans doesn't make you a good person; it makes you trans. And while being trans may give you valuable insight on gender dynamics and trans oppression via direct exposure, it does not automatically make you a scholar or expert on all trans experiences or the historical context that feminism & transfeminism is built on. That kind of information must be actively pursued if you want a fuller picture.

This is why I've been going off about critical thinking so much -- because if you aren't being critical about this, it gets very very easy to fall into a reactive and/or bigoted and/or narrow mindset, and that can be genuinely harmful to yourself and others if you're not careful. Especially on Tumblr, where someone could very easily misrepresent their identity to stir up shit and push transphobic rhetoric behind the mask of an assumed ally. Thinking critically is a vital tool to help us avoid being manipulated by a false or disingenuous narrative.

When we say, "Listen to trans people," we mean that you need to pay attention to a wide variety of trans people and what we're talking about -- because we will and do agree AND disagree with each other on a number of issues all the time. But the more of us you listen to and consider, the more likely you are to see patterns of oppression and common trans experiences that will broaden your worldview and help you make a better informed decision about what to believe or what to look further into or how to spot common anti-trans sentiments/dogwhistles. "Listen to trans people" is not followed by the secret phrase, "and thoughtlessly accept everything they say about trans issues." Anyone who demands that you agree with them without room for question or comment or criticism is trying to control the narrative. Even if there is good reason to believe someone knows their shit, it never hurts to dig deeper into the worldview someone is trying to get you to internalize before you do so.

So, with that in mind, I encourage everyone to really take stock of their priorities & values within activism and judge people on their actual behaviors & impact & quality of information they present, NOT just their stated identities. If something a fellow activist said feels uncomfortable or rubs up against your values, it's okay to examine that feeling and ask questions to figure out what's at the root of it. The trans women who act the way OP described are not representative of all trans women, nor are they necessarily our allies. The same goes for misogynistic & transmisogynistic trans men. Or trans people of any sort who subscribe to any flavor of gender/bioessentalist ideology. That isn't to say that we don't fight for their rights or support them when they fall victim to systemic violence or ignore their issues or give up on trying to educate & elevate where we can -- we are still fighting the patriarchy for everyone's benefit. But, critically, we also don't have to accept hateful rhetoric into our communities and theories just because the fuckos spouting it off are trans.

honestly, as a trans woman who's running a fairly 'popular' or whatever queer blog, i've noticed so much shit in the past 2 years and i'm just gonna lay it out for y'all. it's a new year. it's 2025. i do NOT wanna carry any more of this bullshit forward. i'm calling everything for what it is. if this pisses you off, unfollow or block and move on.

as someone else put it in the tags on one of my other posts:

i am sick and tired of not talking about extremely important queer conversation topics for the sake of "keeping the peace".

this is not giving trans women and transfemmes a better quality of life to attack literally every every and all trans men for being trans men. it's making people fucking scared shitless of us. i hope people realize this isn't helping improve the opinion other people have on trans women and transfemmes. it's making people absolutely fucking terrified to even exist around us, because we've gotten to the point where we're attacking literally everyone and anyone who says something we don't like. people are fucking terrified of talking around transfemmes and trans women and it's time we broke the silence on that.

other transfemmes and trans women: do you seriously, really want other trans people to be scared to death of you? do you really want other trans people to be absolutely fucking terrified to speak around you because they're scared of getting fucking yelled at? do you really want other trans people to be utterly terrified to speak up about their own trans issues for fear of being told they hate you? do you really want other people around you to feel utterly terrified to talk about anything queer related at all for fear of being corrected, looked down upon, or verbally harassed?

i am just completely done with this environment we've fostered where basically everyone is on pins and goddamn needles holding themselves back from having real, genuine, impactful, substantial conversations about gender because they're absolutely scared shitless of being called transmisogynistic and publicly cancelled and harassed at all times for saying something as simple as "trans men don't have it easy" or talking about how AFAB people can also be trans. it really does not take much at all to set people off on this website and start accusing people of being transmisogynists left right and center.

i'm not participating in this weird mind game anymore. i do not like how this is being used to control the narrative on transness and trans experiences.

i am done with having to walk on eggshells in every. single. conversation. we have about gender.

i am done with acting like talking about transmasculinity and transmanhood is somehow magically attacking and silencing trans women and transfemmes.

i am done with people having to tack on massive disclaimers saying that they're not attacking trans women and transfemmes just for talking about their experiences on just about every post people write about gender.

i feel like every conversation about gender on here has to be so fucking sterile and calculated and meticulously planned out and stripped of most of its contents in order to not immediately get slammed with a "oh so you hate trans women" or a "oh so you're transmisogynstic." it's fine to point out genuine transmisogyny, i'm not gonna say you have to put up with it when it's real, but can we acknowledge that people are leveraging the fear other people have of being called transmisogynistic to shut people up?

at this point it's being used as a scare tactic and i'm so over it. i loathe how accusing people of being transmisogynistic is a default insult. trans men can't make a post about transmasculinity without someone getting pissed off and calling them transmisogynistic. trans men can't talk about a goddamn thing without being told to shut up, for some reason? why is this happening? like literally why are you doing this? trans men can't talk about ANYTHING at this point. like they needed to be able to coin words for the specific types of oppression they face so they could talk about it, and instead they just get fucking yelled at and told they're being copycats and that the violence they faced wasn't real? what the actual hell is this accomplishing?

why are we acting like we own oppression and no one else can even come close to understanding what its like? come on now, we don't own the goddamn concept of oppression. we also don't own transness. i am sick to death of this idea that transfemininity and trans womanhood are the only "real" ways to be trans. we do not own the concept of transness. it's not just about us. "trans rights" applies to more than just us. it can't be about us all the time. WE are the ones being self centered right now. WE are the ones who are forcing the conversation to be about us in situations where it's completely and totally inappropriate.

we need to say it for what it is: we're fostering an environment where, at this point, only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk about anything queer related at this point. like can we call it for what it is? for some reason, trans men and transmascs aren't allowed to talk about trans manhood or transmasculinity at all. ever. they're not allowed to say a fucking peep. they have to shut up and listen to a trans woman explain it to them, because for some reason, the trans woman knows trans manhood better than the trans man. this is out of fucking control, we should not have trans women explaining trans manhood to other people unless they are also a trans man. this is just unacceptable. transfems attack transmascs who speak for transfems, and yet this is seen as good and the norm?

you are not cool if you hate trans men and misgender them on purpose. this isn't feminist. this isn't progressive. you're not getting back at the patriarchy- most trans men do not benefit from patriarchy and never will- you would understand this if you listened to them. instead of talking over and for trans men, and listening to people who talk over and for trans men, if you listened to trans men, the source, you'd understand that no, transmasculine lives are NOT easy and no, trans men do not instantly benefit from patriarchal society if at all, ever. if you listened you'd understand that T doesn't make people aggressive and hostile and evil. if you listened you'd understand that there are a lot of wonderful, loving trans men out there are who are not transmisogynistic just by virtue of existing.

nobody is saying that we want to you prioritize men over trans women when we talk about trans men's rights. we're not saying that we need to talk about men all the time and never talk about women, and that men are the only ones allowed to talk, now. we really have to let multiple people participate in conversations. we can't keep doing this thing where One Gender Has To Be Superior Over another. that's gender essentialism. why must you keep yourself trapped inside the binary like that? why are you so desperate to stay stuck inside of the machine that's trying to destroy you?

challenging someone else's transphobia is not being transphobic. challenging someone else's behavior is not hating them or their gender. criticism is not an attack on trans womanhood and transfemininity. transfemmes are trans women are not immune to criticism and we need to stop acting like we are. we're not. we've created an echo chamber where only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk right now and it's not transmisogynistic to point that out, because it's literally happening before our eyes.

if we're demanding that other people treat us better, why are we treating other people like shit in the process to get it?

stop silencing other people talking about other trans experiences. transfemininity and trans womanhood are not the only ways to be trans. stop forcing yourself into conversations you don't belong in. if you don't want trans men do that, don't do it as a trans woman. don't barge into conversations you have literally 0 stock in just to be rude and mean and make the conversation about trans women instead. let other people talk. this has gone on for way too long.

let. other. trans. people. talk. we shouldn't have let it get this bad. but i'm not letting it stay this bad. if you want to accuse people having genuine conversations about transness of being transmisogynistic just because they're not a trans woman, then feel free, i'm not gonna stop you, but i'm not listening to you. i don't care anymore. i'm sick to death of not being able to have REAL conversations on here because some people don't like being reminded that they are not the only people who suffer under cisheteronormative patriarchy. if you can't accept that you are not the only one who suffers under patriarchy and that men need to be liberated from patriarchy as well, then i'm not interested in having a conversation with you to begin with.

seriously, if any of this bothers you, please just block me. i'm not participating in these dumb ass little mind games anymore. i do not give a singular shit about offending people who think this behavior is okay. i spent way too long being afraid to speak up about real world issues because of shitty internet trolls. i don't give a fuck if someone you don't like speaking about their experiences hurts your feelings- you are the problem here.

this is affecting real people in real time and i care about that. i care about people, not stupid ideologies and fighting over who is or isn't "really trans". i care about people, not fighting over labels. open your mind and understand that is is about real ass people, and not just ideologies. trans men and mascs are real ass people. they're not antagonists made specifically to attack and piss off transfemmes and trans women. enough of this.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Her Family Loves Him

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Max Verstappen x Ex! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: None✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Her family loved Max. He was the type of boyfriend parents adored—loving and caring—and Max cared a lot about her. She did too, undoubtedly. However, the breakup was unforeseen, unpredictable, just like her. Something about not handling well the transition to becoming a public person and the downsides of having a very famous boyfriend had been weighing on her much more lately, and she just broke up.

The split, nevertheless, did not stop her parents and Max from staying in contact. Not as often as before, but there were still messages, memes, and that same familiarity, as if the breakup had never happened. But there was still room for a second chance—or at least, that was what her mom thought.

She knocked on her parents’ house door after they asked her to fix a technical problem with the computer—something they did more frequently than she would like. Fortunately, they didn’t live too far, so it wasn’t much of a hassle.

Her parents’ house was as warm and familiar as always, but the moment she stepped inside, something felt off. She set her bag down and raised an eyebrow at her mom, who was hovering suspiciously close to the living room door.

“What is it this time?” she asked, slipping into her usual playful exasperation. “Forgot your email password again? Computer ‘deleted itself?’”

“Oh, nothing too complicated,” her mom said, smiling too widely and tucking her hands behind her back.

Her dad appeared in the hallway, looking unusually cheerful. “Hey, sweetheart! Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

She squinted, her suspicion mounting. “Okay… what’s going on?”

Then, she heard it.

“Hey.”

Her stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. She turned toward the living room and froze. Max stood by the sofa, hands stuffed into his pockets, his hesitant smile not quite masking the awkwardness of the moment.

Her jaw dropped slightly. She blinked, then took a step back. “Yeah, I’m not doing this,” she said flatly, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Max said quickly, his voice almost pleading, and she stopped just long enough to glare at her mom.

Her mom raised her hands in mock innocence. “He was in the area, and I thought it might be nice for you two to… talk.”

Her eyes narrowed. “In the area? Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

Her dad shuffled uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “We may have said something about needing help with the computer…”

“A fake computer issue,” she muttered, spinning back toward Max. “Seriously?”

Max shrugged, looking sheepish. “Your mom said you’d be here, and I thought…” He trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say.

Her arms crossed, and her glare deepened. “This isn’t happening. You can’t just ambush me like this.”

“It’s not an ambush!” her mom protested brightly. “It’s… an opportunity. For you two to finally talk.”

She threw her mom an incredulous look, although deep-down, she knew they needed to talk. “Talk about what? We’ve already done the breaking-up part, in case you forgot.”

Her mom gave her the kind of patient, guilt-laden look only a parent could manage. “Sweetheart, you two barely had time to say anything. It was rushed. Don’t you think it’s worth at least clearing the air? Closure is important.”

She opened her mouth to argue but couldn’t deny the faint tug of guilt creeping in. When they’d broken up, she’d been too overwhelmed to say much, and afterward, she’d avoided thinking about how unfair that might have been.

Max’s blue eyes flicked to hers, quietly hopeful but not pushing. He looked like he was waiting for her to make the call, and it made her want to curse out loud. Those blue eyes still had that hold on her, especially when he looked so vulnerable, so wounded. She knew what she did, and perhaps she also could recognize that it had been a rushed decision where she did not let him talk. Regardless, she was stubborn.

She let out a sharp exhale, throwing her hands up. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

Her mom clapped her hands together, clearly trying not to look too pleased. “Great! You two can sit in the living room. We’ll give you some privacy.”

“We will?” her dad asked, earning a sharp elbow from her mom. “Right. Yes. Privacy. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Max stepped aside to let her enter the living room, and she brushed past him, her arms still crossed. She plopped down on the sofa, her body language screaming reluctance.

He sat down at the opposite end, keeping his distance. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

Max cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I—uh—don’t really know where to start,” he admitted, his hands clasped in front of him as he leaned forward. “I just… I wanted to see you. To talk.”

She avoided his gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “About what?” she asked, her tone defensive, though she hated how sharp it sounded.

“About us,” he said simply, his voice low but steady. “About how things ended.”

She let out a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Max, we’ve been over this.”

“Not really,” he countered, his eyes meeting hers. “We didn’t actually talk. You just… you broke up with me, and that was it.”

Her stomach churned with guilt, his words hitting closer to the truth than she wanted to admit. He wasn’t wrong. She had ended things abruptly, almost out of nowhere, and then had avoided him ever since.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“I know,” he said quickly, his tone laced with sincerity. “But you did. And I don’t think I even understand why.”

She winced, her chest tightening as the weight of her actions settled over her. “It wasn’t something I planned, okay? I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Max’s brow furrowed, his confusion evident. “Couldn’t handle what? Me? Racing? The media?”

“All of it,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “The constant attention, the cameras, the comments. Every time I was with you, I felt like I had to be perfect because someone was always watching. And you… you were so focused, so good at it all, and I couldn’t keep up.”

Max leaned back, his expression softening, but there was still a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve listened. I would’ve done something.”

She shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Because I didn’t even know what to say, Max! I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding selfish or ungrateful. So I just… ran.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. The silence between them grew heavy, the weight of her confession hanging in the air.

“I wish you’d trusted me enough to stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Her chest ached at his words, the guilt she’d been suppressing threatening to overwhelm her. “I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I know I messed up.”

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat back, his eyes never leaving her. “Look,” he said softly, “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad or to guilt you into anything. I’m here because I still care about you. Because I don’t want this to be the end of us.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the confession. “Max…” she began, but he shook his head gently, cutting her off.

“Just hear me out,” he said, leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. “I know my life can be… a lot. The racing, the media, the travel—it’s overwhelming. I get that. And I know I wasn’t always as present as I should’ve been. But I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. I really want you by my side.”

She took a deep breath, the gentle words weighting on her. She held his gaze, the sincerity in those blue orbs almost underwhelming.

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “I never expected you to. I should’ve made that clearer, but I thought… I thought you knew.”

“It’s not just about you, though. It’s about me, too. I let the pressure get to me, and instead of talking to you, I shut down. That’s on me,” she replied.

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe we both made mistakes,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix this. If you still want to, I mean.”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need,” she said quietly, not liking how vulnerable she was sounding, but yet the words slipping out of her mouth. “What if I let you down again?”

“You won’t,” he said without hesitation. “And even if you do, we’ll figure it out. That’s what relationships are, right? You don’t have to be perfect. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you.”

She bit her lip, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to believe him, to let herself fall back into the safety of his words and his presence. But another part of her was terrified—terrified of failing again, of breaking his heart, of breaking her own, all while getting overwhelmed and hurt by it.

“It’s not simple,” he admitted, his voice steady. “But it’s worth it.”

The room fell silent, his words hanging in the air like leaves in the breeze. She could feel the firmness of his gaze, the sincerity in his expression, and it made her chest ache.

“Max,” she started, her voice gentle, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t,” he said intently, his eyes unwavering. “But if you’re scared, that’s okay. We’ll take it one step at a time. Just… don’t shut me out.” He leaned forward slightly, his expression open and unguarded. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now,” he continued, his voice steady but tender. “I just want us to try. To figure it out together”

She hesitated for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. The fear of failing again was still there, very present, but so was the undeniable pull toward him. Toward the man who cared so much about her, he planned this ambush with her mom even after she had not broken up in the most compassionate way.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the gap between them, reaching out to take his hand. His warmth seeped into her skin, grounding her. “Okay,” she said finally.

Max’s face broke into a smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened every hard edge. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone laced with cautious hope.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her own smile growing.

Max smirked, glancing toward the kitchen, where her parents’ voices carried on in a mix of hushed whispers and not-so-hushed laughter. Then, from the direction of the kitchen, there was the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. Loudly.

She turned toward the doorway as her parents stood there, her mom wearing an exaggerated expression of innocence, while her dad unsuccessfully stifled a grin.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” her mom said, waving a hand. “We were just… checking on the oven.”

Her dad snorted. “We don’t even have anything in the oven.”

Her mom shot him a look before turning her attention back to the pair on the couch. “We’re just happy you two finally talked,” she said, beaming. 

“I still can’t believe you two planned this,” she chuckled slightly.

Her mom grinned unapologetically. “Well, sometimes a little push is all you need.”

Max turned to her, his smile softening. “I guess I owe them a thank you.”

She peeked at him, her embarrassment fading as she met his warm gaze. “You’re not the one who has to deal with them later,” she quipped, her tone light but affectionate.

Her mom clapped her hands together. “So, dinner?” she asked brightly. “I think this calls for a celebration.”

Her dad groaned. “Does this mean I have to set the table?”

As her parents bickered good-naturedly on their way back to the kitchen, Max turned to her, his hand tightening gently around hers. “I’m glad we talked,” he said quietly.

“Me too,” she admitted, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <333

[acynicalsweetheart]

DOWN IN A HOLE

pairing: dad!jimmy x fem!reader x uncle!curly

word count: 2.4k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, daddy-daughter incest, pseudo-incest, mild dub-con, coercion, daddy kink, breeding kink, age gap, double penetration, anal, sex, implied/referenced rape, very brief jimcurly cameo

author's note: wow this sucks LMFAO. umm first attempt at writing jimmy… assholes r not my typical area of expertise so. take it with a grain of salt. feel like he has an uncharacteristically big mouth here LOL. did not mean to make it this long it was originally a drabble… read cws + any interaction/feedback appreciated as always!!

“Jim... isn’t she your daughter?”

Curly’s dumbfounded, jaw dropped to the floor, standing in the middle of the dank motel room not knowing where he should look to remain respectful—Jimmy or his own flesh and blood in a flimsy lingerie set. 

Not exactly what he had in mind when Jimmy said he had a gift for him. 

This is all too fucking wrong, Jimmy’s your dad, you’re one thin and translucent piece of underwear away from standing completely naked in front of both of them, he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder like he’s your pimp. He wants Curly to fuck you. 

It’s sick and twisted and morbid and Curly’s dick is hard. 

“Yeah, so?” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you flinch ever so slightly, put on your best forced smile. “Never once said no to taking daddy’s dick, did you, baby?” 

You shake your head. 

(It’s a blatant lie—Jimmy remembers the bloodfest on the sheets your first time, the way you screamed dad, no and dad, stop at the top of your lungs. The way your face contorted, ugly sobbing turning your eyes swollen and puffy like your cunt, his cock coated in all sorts of questionable fluids by the time he was done with you.)

“See? All good here, man.” He says, shaking you a little by the grip on your shoulder. 

“Jimmy, I...” Curly pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs his forehead like he’s trying to assess if this entire thing is a dream or not. Would help alleviate the guilty boner in his pants by a little if it were. 

He peeks at you through the cracks of his fingers. 

“Come on,” Jimmy’s scowl returns in a second, gesturing to your body. “You’re really gonna reject her when she’s right in front of you? Thought you were better than that, Curly.”

It’s so wrong—Curly’s known you almost as long as he’s known Jimmy. He’s watched you grow up, babysat you, let you crash at his place, showed up to every one of your graduations because Jimmy couldn’t. He hung out with you just last week, for God’s sake. 

Curly’s dick twitches like it’s trying to escape his pants and fuck you on its own. 

Jimmy shrugs, starts undoing your top and letting it drop to the floor. He gropes your tits and bile burns in the back of Curly’s throat like ethanol. “Well, if you don’t want a piece, then you’re free to watch. Shame you gotta break my girl’s heart like this.”

“Jim, I’m not trying to—“

Jimmy pinches your nipple mechanically and you whine, stand there and take it like it’s a daily occurrence. “She’s been asking for you, you know.”

Curly falters, his heart dropping straight down to his ass, “she has?” 

“Yeah, won’t shut up about Uncle Curly’s dick, how much she likes you,” Jimmy scoffs, “how she wants you to take her second virginity.” Second virginity? 

“Really?” He smooths his hair back, sheepishly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck like a schoolgirl. 

Jimmy whispers something to you, sends you off to where Curly’s standing with a tap on the ass. You reach out for his hand to place it on your breast and he cups it gently, sneaking glances at Jimmy from behind you in case he changes his mind.

You speak for the first time tonight, “Uncle Curly.”

“Sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, “are you sure you—“

The bottoms of your lingerie set fall to the floor silently, sheer fabric sticky with what is presumably your slick. Curly gawks like an idiot, cheeks flaming hot, eyes raking up your legs until they meet your pussy. 

He thinks he hears Jimmy snicker in the background. 

You keep your eyes on Curly as you saunter to the bed, getting on all fours and arching your back low, spreading yourself open for your dad and your proclaimed uncle to behold. 

“Uncle Curly...” he makes eye contact with your spread holes, your pussy drooling onto the sheets, leaking down your thighs. “It’s okay, I want this,” you say with the enthusiasm of a sex ring traffickee. 

Fuck it. 

He looks over at Jimmy, takes a deep breath and complies. 

Stupid ol’ Curly. Falling for each and every one of his lies like he falls for gambling scams, and Jimmy’s the broke one here. 

Jimmy’s been in all of your holes. There isn’t a single square inch of your body that doesn’t have his fingerprints burned into it. What can he say? Jimmy made you so he owns you, simple as that. Took your anal virginity approximately a week after he took your actual one. The look on your face is welcomely ingrained into his mind, looked like you were one second away from biting the dust. 

You could be his sister, his mother, a clerk at the store or a street whore for all he cares—Jimmy would fuck you all the same. 

Curly should be grateful that Jimmy’s offering him a sweet piece of meat, his meat. It’s not every day somebody, let alone the grandiose Curly, gets an opportunity to stick his dick in Jimmy’s daughter. 

(More so every three days, when he needs some cash for a pack of smokes he’ll pimp you out to whoever. They pay higher when you’re dressed in white and wearing pigtails. Sick fucks.)

He lets Curly play with your pussy until enough’s enough, shedding his clothes and maneuvering you on top of him. Front to front with Jimmy ‘cause he doesn’t want you giving Curly your puppy eyes and making him all sappy, start feeling bad for you. Invoke some sort of saviour complex. 

The only saving you need is Jimmy’s dick—daddy knows best. Daddy fucks you the best. 

He’s simply being a good friend to Curly.

You shower Jimmy’s face in kisses and he whips his dick out, grabbing the fat of your cheeks till it spills past his fingertips. Gives you a couple spanks for good measure, makes you moan. 

“Such a filthy little slut, aren’t you? So wet for dad,” Jimmy slaps his tip against your entrance, sticky noises echoing throughout the room. You tilt your head as your breath hitches, looking at Jimmy like he forgot something. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “and Uncle Curly.” 

Who is still fully fucking clothed by the way.

Wagging your ass at Curly, you giggle and look back at him, very likely giving him fuck-me eyes. It works, ‘cause he seems to get the hint that he should undress. This is exactly why Jimmy needs you facing himself and nobody else. 

Jimmy’s dick is harder than a rock, it’s not gonna sit there and watch you and Uncle Curly like some miserable third-wheel. The drop of pre running down the length of his shaft is all he needs to force himself into your tight cunt with a single push of his hips. 

“Daddy...” You whine like it hurts and Jimmy grins, makes him feel nostalgic.

The mattress dips when Curly gets on the bed, big ass fucking horse thighs trapping you and Jimmy beneath him. Nevermind the horse thighs, Curly has a fucking horse cock. Yeah, this is the first and last time he’s ever catering to your whims. 

Jimmy keeps thrusting up into you like he’s got something to prove. 

Curly’s cock pokes and prods at your tighter hole, takes a good minute for him to begin sliding inside and you yelp like you’re being impaled. Curly can’t be that big, you’re just putting on a show like Jimmy told you to. 

“Mm,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip, so pretty Jimmy’s grateful Curly can’t see your face right now. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” Please. Curly wishes you were his baby. 

He feels Curly’s dick moving against his inside of you and it’s all very unsexy, but Jimmy will be damned if he’s gonna empty his balls elsewhere. Men have needs. Sometimes those needs happen to come in the form of fucking one’s daughter and Jimmy is completely fine with that. 

“Oh my,” your eyes flutter shut, pressing back against him, faking it till you’re making it. “Uncle Curly, you’re so big...”

Fondly, Curly chuckles, “I guess I am.”

You’re really laying it on thick, Jimmy didn’t tell you to do that. 

“Dad’s bigger, baby. Can’t you feel it?” He shoves your face into his neck, stretching you open with his pistoning hips like it’s the first time all over again. Your squeals come out muffled, voice vibrating against his skin. 

The way his tip bumps your fleshy cervix with every trust should be enough proof. Curly’s pace is slow and soft, he’s not even all the way in yet. Or maybe Jimmy really is bigger. 

“C’mon, Curls,” Jimmy pants, voice almost a growl as he tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dampening body. “No time to be a pussy, you’re in her ass.” 

“Not a pussy, just... starting out slow.” Curly says calmly, gentlemanly—to no avail ‘cause you’re already cockdrunk. 

“Fuck her harder.” It’s a dare, a challenge, or a simple suggestion. He’s giving pointers to a significantly more well-adjusted peer. Jimmy says and Curly does nonetheless, he wonders if Curly would backflip off a building if Jimmy told him to. 

Finally, Curly picks up his pace, fucking your ass the way it’s meant to be fucked. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room and for a moment, Jimmy is okay with this entire thing. 

“My girl likes it rough, dontcha, baby?” Jimmy asks, drilling himself as deep as he can go into your pussy. All you do is moan and whine—nonstop ‘cause they won’t let you have a second of air. “Yeah, you do.”

“Daaaad!”

“Fuck, dirty girl,” Jimmy grunts into your hair, hand on the back of your head forcing your face deeper into his neck where you’re making a mess of spit and snot and tears. “You like dad’s cock that much, huh?”

He doesn’t ask about Curly’s cock, if Jimmy wants to know if you like Curly’s cock then Uncle Curly will have to ask you himself. Seems too preoccupied with holding back his moans, though. 

Your whines come out choppy, muffled by Jimmy’s neck, every jackhammer into your sloppy cunt and ass punching the wind right out of you.

“That’s right,” Jimmy makes eye contact with Curly, fucking you even harder to assert dominance, dick-to-dick and ball-to-ball with his best friend. Your walls clamp down around him, “so go on, cum on it. You know you wanna.”

You shake and thrash in his hold, legs twitching as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy feels your body go still, gushing bursts of squirt all over the place, soaking everyone and everything in sight—orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. 

He fucks you through it. 

You must’ve been squeezing real tight around Curly as well, ‘cause he falls on top of you and Jimmy, hands gripping the sheets next to Jimmy’s head like they’re the ones fucking. Curly’s mouth is hanging open, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. A drop of his sweat lands on Jimmy. 

It’s disgusting how much he looks like a fucking playboy bunny, straight out of a raunchy magazine page. For a second, this intrusive image passes through Jimmy’s head—his dick buried to the hilt inside of Curly instead of you. 

He feels his balls tightening and he wants to kill himself right then and there. 

“Gonna take daddy’s cum?” 

“Such a good girl, sweetheart,” sunshine boy chimes in, like he’s been reading Dirty Talk 101 during the time they’ve been two-manning you, “take it, take both of our loads.” 

“Y’hear that? Gonna take Uncle Curly’s load deep in your ass, huh?” Jimmy keeps his noises down in his throat, struggling to not groan at the way you have a fucking death grip on his dick. “And daddy’s in your pussy?”

Yes, yes, yes—

Jimmy fucks you hard, rough, mean. He keeps going till he shoots his cum deep in your cunt, till he feels Curly stiffening up, following suit with his orgasm and a loud ass fucking moan while he’s at it. Grand exit. 

Curly presses a quick kiss to your head before pulling out of you with a sloppy pop! and flopping down next to you and Jimmy. 

Jimmy stays inside of you, feeling his own cum dripping down his length. You’re lying boneless on his chest, mascara ruined, staining your cheeks—face the perfect aftermath of a good, thorough fucking. 

You and Curly gaze at each other lovingly, reaching out your hands to intertwine your fingers like Jimmy isn’t right there. He’d cuck Curly here and now if his nicotine addiction wasn’t wearing him out. 

You all stay like that for a while, panting and wondering what you’re supposed to make of this. 

You’re out like a light, naked and alone in bed with two thick, white creampies dripping out of your holes, soaking the sheets. 

They step outside, Curly shuts the door carefully and Jimmy lights a cigarette, shoe against the wall as he leans on it. 

Curly’s hands are shoved in his denim pockets, curls still damp and sweaty as his head hangs low. He tilts his head back then, watches Jimmy smoke for a minute.

“So,” Curly breaks the silence between them, speaking over the chirps of the cicadas in the night. “That was... uh...”

Is he going to acknowledge the fact that they fucked Jimmy’s daughter or the subtly homoerotic undertones of it? 

“Don’t talk,” he blows a cloud of smoke straight into Curly’s face when he opens his mouth, makes Curly stifle a cough and Jimmy a chuckle. “Gonna need some money to get out of town for a while.” It’s part true and partly ‘cause Jimmy let him have a go at you. 

“Yeah.” Curly rubs his chin thoughtfully, reaching for his wallet and plucking out a few bills, “yeah, of course.”

Jimmy grabs the cash, crumpling them with his sweaty hands as he walks off. He cranes his neck to salute Curly goodbye, gets a nod back and that’s that. 

Trucker cap on and pick-up engine revving, he takes off. To where? Jimmy doesn’t know. Away. Crawl out of one hole and into another. You’re Curly’s responsibility for the moment. Checked in on his behalf.

Jimmy knows Curly won’t tell. 

[juniperskye]

Just a little something.

Based on the following ask: I have a request that may be a little difficult for you to write, if you're up for it. I would like to request Hotch with a non-bau reader that likes to crochet in their spare time, particularly stuffed animals, and gift them to others. Jack and Hotch would obviously receive the majority of the amigurumi projects, but one day, the reader makes too many little crochet animals and persuades Hotch to take them to work and hand them out to other agents. You wouldn't have to go too into depth about the crocheting techniques if you don't think you could properly write about it; you could honestly just mention the creation period in passing and the present the finished crochet piece in the plot.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 841

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Age gap (non-specified), established relationship with Hotch, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, reader crochets, mention of Jack, mention of reader’s nieces and nephews, mention of anxiety (reader uses crocheting as an outlet) use of pet names, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had picked up crocheting back when you were in college. Then, and even now it served as an outlet to release stress and anxiety. When you had started out your projects were fairly simple, wash cloths, granny squares, simple blankets.

The beauty of this hobby was that it allowed for some beautiful handmade gifts. As time went on, you began making stuffed animals. Your sister had gifted you a book with patterns for amigurumi projects, and from then on you’d been making all sorts of little creatures.

The primary recipients of your creations had been your nieces and nephews. First it was their baby blankets, then elephants, and turtles, which turned into cows and opossums, and most recently Pokémon.

When you and Aaron started dating you’d mentioned your hobby in passing, but as things progressed in your relationship, crocheting seemed to come out a little more in you. You’d casually pull out a project while watching a movie with Aaron and Jack, you’d brought over a throw blanket for the back of the couch. You’d even gifted Aaron a scarf and some socks before he left for a case in Colorado in the dead of winter.

--

One night after finishing a plushie of Charmander for your nephew, Jack spoke up…soft and unsure.

“That’s really cool.” He whisper.

“Thanks bud, do you like Charmander?” You replied.

“Kinda…I don’t really play Pokémon that much.” He shrugged.

“Oh yeah, what do you like then?” You smiled.

“I like spiderman!” Jack exclaimed.

A few days later you’d showed up with a stuffed spiderman for Jack. He was over the moon and from then on, he wasn’t afraid to ask you directly for something.

--

He was an incredible kid, he’d patiently wait for you to complete the project, even asking you questions throughout the process.

“And what kind of stitch is that?” He’d ask.

“This one here is a half double crochet.” You answered.

“And that’s different than a single crochet?”

“Yes, for a half double, you put the yarn over and then pull it through all three loops. You see that?” You asked, holding the project up as you showed him how to do it.

That night you hopped online and ordered Jack a Woobles crochet kit so he could learn alongside you.

--

For as long as you’d been crocheting, people have suggested you open an Etsy shop, and you always met them with the same response; it’ll lose the serenity it currently brings me. And this is why you only make small batches for two local boutiques.

Once a month you make a few things for each shop, and you go in and drop them off. As they sell, the profits are split 60/40 between you and the shops, which gives you the money for yarn and a little extra.

In the last week, you’d made a wide variety of stuffed animals, ranging anywhere from dinosaurs and bunnies all the way to peas in a pod and cherries. You had been packing everything up to get ready to deliver them.

--

“Hey sweetheart.” Aaron called as you entered the apartment.

“Hi honey.” You set your tote bin down and made your way to the kitchen.

“How were the deliveries?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“They were good! I actually came home with a few things. With the Holidays just ending, one of the shops still had a few items and so they didn’t need their usual stock.” You explained.

“Oh, well now you’ll have some for next time?” He offered.

“You know, next time it’ll be Easter themed stuff…chicks and bunnies. What if you took some of these in for the BAU?” You suggested. “I can wrap one up for each of them and you can leave them on their desks for me.”

“I��m not sure…”

“Oh, please Aaron! Think of it as a late Christmas gift from me! I’ll even write them notes so they know it’s from me!”

“Sweethe-”

“Please!” You begged.

“Okay sweetheart. Whatever you want.” Aaron pressed a kiss to your forehead.

--

The next morning Aaron arrived at work even earlier than usual, that way he could place the brightly colored bags on everyone’s desks prior to their arrival. You had selected a specific plush for each person, even pulling from some other projects you had stored for an event you’d be participating in.

One by one, each member of the BAU arrived, quickly taking note of the giftbags on each desk. They shared confused glances and shrugged before Aaron stepped out of his office.

“There should be a note in each bag. Feel free to open them and enjoy.” He said, returning to his office.

Aaron smiled gently, toying with the crocheted whale shark you snuck into his bag. You always said he, like whale sharks frightened people, due to preconceived notions derived from fear, but in all actuality, they were gentle creatures.

Aaron’s smile only grew as he heard Garcia squeal with joy over the soft unicorn you’d gifted her.

[slvtf0rbuffwomen1111]

Assistance

Pt. 3, Pt. 2, Pt. 1

18+

Smut under cut.

Cw: daddy kink, slight degradation, overstimulation, choking, manhandling, rough sex

The rest of the week flew by. Sevika and you not interacting as much as you would like to due to all the cases her and Silco have to finish before the work week was over. You had about 3 hours left of work and you were making sure all the scheduling was correct for next week when you saw someone walk up to the desk in your peripheral. 

“You ready for the banquet tomorrow?”, you here Sevika say. She was leaning on the counter her arms straining against her blazer, her biceps on display. 

“Mhm almost I just need to find a dress, I’ll have to go tomorrow morning I haven't had much time this week to go look.”, you reply. 

“Just take the rest of the day off we have no more clients coming and the mall is gonna be packed in the morning.” 

“You’re not serious, are you?”, you say not believing her. 

“I am serious and here, take the company card to get yourself something real nice. Want my date looking better than anyone in that room.”, she said getting out her wallet. 

“Date? Thought I was your plus one.” 

“Date, plus one, same thing, I just want you looking your best, even though you look astonishing in anything. Right?”, she smirked. 

You couldn't say anything. 

 *Why is she so bold?!* 

“I'll tell Silco you're heading out and I'll text you details for the banquet in the morning.” 

“Ok Thank you.”, you get up and start gathering your stuff. 

“And I mean it, buy something nice, treat yourself, the card has no limit.” 

That’s how you found yourself at the mall at some dress shop. A very expensive one might I add. You picked up a price tag $649.99. 

*HOLY SHIT* 

You felt sick just touching something that expensive, but she did say no limits right, and to treat myself... 

You wander around the store some more trying to touch the dresses as least as possible worried the oils on your fingertips would ruin the delicate fabrics. And that when you saw it a long silk Burgandy dress. It was strapless and had heart shape neckline, with a sexy slit running up the leg. It was perfect. 

You obviously had to try it on before buying something with that price and it seemed even more perfect on. Accentuating all your curves and making your cleavage pop. You bought the dress not daring to look at the price tag. And made your way out the mall, before another store caught your eyes. 

VICTORIA’S SECRET 

Might as well get a new set to match your new dress. You decided on a black lace bandeau with a silk trim and red rose in the middle. A long with the matching panties that had a triangle cut out right above the ass. You bought the set with your card not wanting to push your limits and also not wanting finance department to see what you bought. You arrived home and got ready for bed. You couldn't sleep you had a shaking feeling inside, that feeling when you know something excited is happening the next day.  

It was the next afternoon, Sevika texted you letting you know she’ll be there to pick you up at 6pm, that gave you 7 hours to get ready. First you went to get a mani-pedi you haven't had one in ages and you really wanted to pamper yourself for your “date” with your sexy boss.  

You got home did a quick face mask and took a shower before starting on your hair and makeup. The makeup was natural with a bolder eyeliner, your lips painted a similar hue of your dress. Which you paired with some gold jewelry. (Or silver) 

You were slipping on a pair of black kitten heels when you heard a knock on your door.  

*She's early* 

“One second!”, you yell out while grabbing your clutch purse and lipstick.  

You opened the door expecting to see Sevika but instead saw an older man. 

“Y/n L//n, is that you?”, he asked looking down at his phone. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Verma sent me to pick you up as she is caught up with something at the moment but she will meet you at the Banquet Hall.", he explained. He led you down your apartment halls out to a black range rover opening the door for you.  

The drive was silent, you didn’t know if you should be mad, she wasn’t picking you up or flattered she sent such a nice car to pick you up. You made it to the banquet hall and saw Sevika outside the entrance doors. She looked noiceee. She was wearing a simple and classy all black tux that seemed to make her look even taller and intimidating than before.  

The valet opened the door for you and you made your way towards Sevika. When she spotted you, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of you. Her eyes made you even more nervous than before.  

“Good to see you made it safely, Y/n, you look beautiful.”, she said clearly checking you out. 

“Thank you Sevika, as do you.” 

She held out her arm for you to grab as you both made your way into the banquet. There was lots of people all dresses in their best pearls and furs. You suddenly felt underdressed and underage. Everyone seemed to be Sevika's age or older. The older mean giving you look that made you want to cover yourself with a blanket. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sevika as she pulled you closer as you made you to your table. That so gracefully pulled the chair out for you.  

This was lot more boring than you thought. Hours of hearing mediocre jokes that you had choice to laugh at and food that tasted like straight up hospital food in ridiculously small portions. You were ready to go. 

“I’m gonna go wash up I’ll be back.”, you said quietly enough that just Sevika heard you. Which she didn't even seem too. 

You went to the bathroom and sat on your phone for a minute before washing your hands and exit the restroom to head back to boring festivities of the night. 

“Hello there young lady, you look very sexy tonight.”, said an old man who looked like he touched children. Ew.  

“Ha thank you.”, you blankly reply trying to walk past him. He grabbed on your arm to keep from going and you felt his old wrinkly yet moist hand.  

“Excuse me!” 

“You're not excused why don't you come to my table and chat for a while pretty.” 

“Shes not interested, you can let of go of her.” 

*Oh thank god* 

Sevika came standing next to you looking at the man like she was seconds away from killing him. Without another word the old man left as fast his stubby legs would let him. 

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?”, she asked facing you. 

“Ya I'm find just grossed out.” 

“I'm sorry, I should've came with you, these men here aren’t used to seeing such women, should've known they would try something. I can hurt him if you want me too.”, she said with eyes of rage and caring. 

“No Sev I’m fine thank you, I'm just glad you got here when you did.” 

She smiled at the nickname that came out your lips.  

“You wanna get out of here?” 

“I would like that.”, you said grabbing you clutch from her hand. She wrapped her arm around your waist as she said her goodbyes and walked you to her car. A nice sleek black Porsche 911.  

You guys drove in silence for a while until Sevika finally spoke up. 

“You want to come to my place, for a drink, you can say no I don’t mind”, she blabbered on. 

“That sounds fine to me.” 

The tension in the car seemed to rise more after that. You couldn’t stop staring at the way the veins in her hand protruded. You really wondered what those hands could do. 

You made to a gate and Sevika pressed a button in her car that opened it and there you saw the most gorgeous and huge house ever. You knew she had money but lawd, the car should've given it away.  

The inside was just as lavish as the outside. It had a homey vibe to it yet modern.  

“What do you drink?”, she asked pulling out two glasses. Her blazer now off.  

“I'll just have whatever you have.”, you said still soaking up her home. 

She poured you some whiskey and made her way to chair next to you. 

“That was banquet was boring I know, you don’t have to lie.”, she said. 

“Ya it was boring, that guy trying to feel me up was probably the most exciting thing that happened. Except it was actually quite scary.”, you say sipping on your drink. 

“Ya I'm sorry about that, I’m gonna have to report his firm, but that means more clients for us.", she joked. 

“I at least got this nice dress out of it though.” 

“You really do look so gorgeous you know that dress makes you look even more sexy.”, she said her eyes on you. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?”, she said setting her glass down and putting her hand on your thigh. 

“That, you tease me.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”, she said her eyes staring into yours. 

Your breath hitch as she started getting closer to you. Her eyes looking at your eyes then to your lips. That’s all you needed to close the space between you and kiss her. The kiss started off slow and passionate, like she was savoring you. 

“I've been wanting kiss you since I first saw you.”, you said into between kisses. 

“I've been wanting to a lot more than kiss you baby.”, she grabs your waist and hoist you onto the kitchen island. Her hands all over you back and thighs as you grab her neck and pull closer into you. Her thigh slots in between your legs making you let out a small whimper as you grind against her. The kisses getting sloppier and hotter by second. She starts to kiss down you jaw and onto your neck that will definitely leave marks. Your breath getting heavier. 

“Fuck y/n can I take you upstairs?”, she asked still kissing your neck. 

“Yes please.”, you breathe out. 

Her room was so dark and organized, a huge California king bed sits in the middle.  

She set you down on the bed not breaking the kiss. Her knee back in between your legs, your panties are soaked at this point and you're sure there's a wet patch on her pants. 

“Sevi, I need you please?”, you whine. 

“Yea need me how? Use your words baby.” 

“Touch me, I need you to touch me.”, you grind deeper into her knee. 

She lifts you off you back so she can unzip your dress. She slides the red fabric down your body and she smirks at your lace covered breast and pussy.  

“Fuck baby you knew this was gonna happen did you, huh?” 

“mhm”, you whine. She takes both your breast in her and starts to grope at them. You let out more whines as she unclasps your bra letting your breast free. She takes one of your breasts into her mouth, sucking on your hardened nipple her tongue swirling around it. Her mechanical hand wrapped around you while her flesh hand plays with your other breast.  

Your grinding harder and harder on her leg you pussy leaking all over her. She feels you seeping through her pants. 

“Your pussy needs some attention, doesn't she?”. You don’t reply, too embarrassed to say anything.  

“Answer me.”, she commands her mouth leaving your body completely. 

“Mm please touch my pussy I need you.” 

“Good slut.”, her hand travels down your body and she basically tears the underwear off of you, assuring you she’ll buy you a new pair. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me.”, her finger slides along your slit pushing down on your clit. You let out a whimper before she slides one of thick fingers inside of you. 

“Oh my god Sev”, she slides the finger in and out a few times before adding in a second finger curling up into you really stretching you out.  

“God you're so tight, how are supposed to take my cock huh?”, she teases. You moan at her words and squirm on her fingers. 

She takes your pulsing clit into her mouth sucking on your bud and lightly grazing it with her teeth.  

“Fuck se-” all you can do is moan her tongue making patterns on your pussy while she fingers you. Your so wet with you spit and you slick she slides in a third finger. 

“Need to make sure you can take my cock baby.”, she said completely obliterating your tight hole. Your stomach starts to feel hot and your legs begin to shake. 

“I’m g-gonna cum”, you barely stutter out. 

“Yeah, come on my face.” 

You squirt all over you mouth and fingers she does her best to drink it all up slurping on your pussy, downright nasty sound coming from you and her. You start to feel overstimulated as she's still eating your pussy and licking you up. Her fingers still deliciously hitting your g-spot.

“Sev I can’t it's too much”, you try to push her away but she doesn't budge. Your thighs now trapping her head, but she just pushes your leg back down and stares into your eyes as you come a second time on her mouth. She finally pulls away and climbs back on top you pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on her mouth. 

“You ready for my cock baby?”, she asked.  

“Yes, I want your dick in me please!” 

She stands up off the bed and walked towards her bathroom while removing her shirt. When she comes back out, she is naked with nothing but an 8inch strap harnessed to her hips. Not only is a long but it's also thick. Her body is better than you imagined rock hard abs, muscular thighs, and her arm so strong looks like she kill you with just one punch

“Don’t worry baby it'll fit.”, she said like she can read your mind. 

“Open your legs for me”, you immediately obey her opening up and putting your pussy on display. She gets in between your legs. She starts rubs the tip of the strap up and down you wet pussy.  

“Y’ so wet I don't need any lube baby.”.  

“Open up for me.”.  You comply and open up your mouth wide for her. She puts her middle and ring finger in your mouth and down your throat causing you to gag. She removes her fingers and wipes your spit on her cock jerking it off.  

“You ready baby?”, she asked leaning over you. 

“Mhm” 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, please just fuck me already!” 

She doesn’t wait a second longer before she puts her cock in you. You moan at the stretch of her thickness. She doesn’t wait; she bottoms out completely in you before pulling out and putting it back in. She starts fucking you slowly at first but doesn’t last long, she speeds up and you moan and whimper in pleasure. 

“Fuck daddy oh my g-” 

That where you messed up. She looks at you with pure animalistic intents. 

 She takes your legs and put them up to your chest, your basically folded in half as she starts to fuck you hard and fast. You can only scream in pleasure she’s so deep in you, you swear you can feel her in her stomach.  

“You're so deep daddy”, you can barely get it out. She grabs you by neck with her mechanical hand and starts to squeeze your neck, not enough to stop your breathing, but enough to make you feel woozy in the head.  

“You like daddy’s cock in your pussy huh, don’t you slut”, she growls in your ear. You nod your head as she continues to pound into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your pussy fills the room. Your bodies radiating heat against each other. She feels your body stiffen up and your pussy tighten around her cock. She knows your gonna cum. She keeps her pace and starts to rub your clit. 

“Gonna come all over daddy’s cock like a good little slut.”, that’s all she needed to say. Your eyes roll to back of head and open your mouth wide as you scream out to her. Your body twitching as you leak around her cock.  

“Oh- fuck”,Sevika groans as her pace falters, she comes with a grunt and moans into your ear.   

She collapsed on top of you, her breathing heavy against your neck. She starts to kiss back up you neck and to your lips. You two kissed for a while until Sevika grabbed you by your waist and flipped you over. 

“I’m not done with you yet, ass up baby”, she spanked your ass. You arched your back putting your pussy on perfect display for her. 

“fuck”, Sevika muttered under breath. Seeing the way your ass was shaped and your (her) personal heaven in between your thighs. Her hand touch around you ass and down to you weeping hole. She lines her cock back up and thrust all 8 inches into you at once. You scream at the intrusion but she doesn't stop. She’s fucking you hard. Both hands on your hips as she pulls you deeper onto her cock. Your face smushed into the pillow, your moans and whines muffled.  

“Could fuck your pussy all day baby”, she grunts using her flesh hand spank you. The added pain just made you squeeze more around her dick. Your moans getting louder. Thank god you weren't at your apartment. She takes her mechanical hand back around your neck to pull you up, your back now against your chest. The angle making her impossibly deeper into you.  

The only sound leaving you lips were incoherent babbles and moans. Drool pools out of your mouth. You are officially drunk on her cock.  

“Uh-uh fuck Sevi”, you manage to get out. 

“You love the way daddy fucks your slutty pussy, don't you?” 

“Yes, daddy I love it”  

She looks down to where your two bodies connect. A thick white ring of cum at the base of her cock. It only makes her fuck you harder. The sound of her hips against your ass, your moans and her grunts, the way she has her hands feel on your body. It was all too much.  

“Be a good slut for daddy and rub your pretty clit and I'll let you cum”, you whine in protest. You don’t even think you have enough body strength left for that, but the urge to cum is stronger. You bring your hand down your pussy and start to rub fast tight circles on your clit. Only took 10 seconds until your twitching and cumming all over her dick. Your cum dripping down your thighs.  

She gently sets you down onto the bed knowing you couldn't hold yourself up. She slowly pulls out her strap that makes you wince in discomfort.  

“I’ll be right back baby”, she says before she disappears into her bathroom. She comes out with boxers on and in her hands a class of water, a rag, and a t shirt for you. She turns you over and gently cleans in between your legs with the warm damp rag while kissing your thighs. She then has you sit up so she can put the shirt on for you. 

“Drink some of this then you can sleep baby”, your eyes barley able to keep themselves open. She tilts your head back for you and you drink half the glass before you fall back into bed. Sevika climbs in next to you her arm on your stomach.  

“Goodnight y/n”, she whispers but you don’t hear her as your already fast asleep. 

You just fucked your boss. 

Lmk if you want me to continue this story<3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Jumping right back in to part 3!

Accurate depiction of me knowing what's about to happen to the readers dad. 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

And:

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off. “What? What is it?!” you yell. He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth. “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?” You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭

Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.

Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

It's a whole vibe 🍞

Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket. Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.  Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.  It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

See I feel better already 🥰

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.

And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.

This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️

Against the Wind - Part 3

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

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

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

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

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

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

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

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[albondiguilla007]

Drarry as Hogwarts Professors

✨ Finely Drawn Lines / 61k / Draco doesn't consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus. From the curl of his lips to the exact number of lines that form at the corners of his eyes when he laughs, Draco has catalogued every shade of one Harry James Potter between the pages of his sketchbook.

So long as Potter remains none the wiser, Draco will have no trouble controlling his crush.

But when Potter comes to him with a dangerous proposition, Draco fears things are about to get so much more complicated.

✨ head over heels / 21k / Everyone in Harry's life thinks he's engaged to Malfoy. The solution to this is not pretending to date Malfoy, but here he is doing that anyway.

✨ A Lick and a Promise / 55k / Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts!

When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help.

Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover-as

DADA Professor, naturally. He's going to need the help of the Ministry's foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he's not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea.

Things are complicated between them-what's new?-but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case.

Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand.

A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live.

✨ Darkest Before the Dawn / 47k / The last thing Draco wanted was to show up at Harry Potter's door, cursed blind and holding a boxful of his friends Transfigured into snakes, but here he was.

Between breaking the curse, adjusting to life without sight, and teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, Draco's got his hands full. Being forced to live with Harry Potter might just be the death of him.

This is a story about the bonds of friendship, fairy tale endings, and learning to ask for help (even from Gryffindors).

✨ how can i love what i know i'm gonna lose? (don't make me choose) / 8k / Harry's soulmark is his scar, but he doesn't know that. He thinks he has no soulmate.

And Draco, who has Harry Potter's scar on the inside of his hip, is not planning on ever telling him. Ever. It would break him in two.

But when Hogwarts institutes a Health Ed week where Draco is tasked with the topic of soulmates, he begins to think maybe Harry needs to know.

✨ The New Potions Professor / 33k / Harry wearily entered the teachers’ lounge to meet the new Potions professor. After much convincing by McGonagall, Slughorn had finally agreed to retire and take better care of his health.

So now some new Potions master was taking his place, and they had arrived today.

Harry went inside and froze immediately.

“You’ve got to be joking.” He said.

or

Harry has taught Defense Against Dark Arts for over a decade and a half and Malfoy thinks he can just waltz into Hogwarts and teach too? Absolutely not.

✨ Phoenix in the Fire / 28k / Harry never expected to have a hot summer fling with Draco Malfoy when he agreed to mind the castle with him. He also never expected that it would all have to end on August thirty-first. What happens when casual sex with Harry’s ex-enemy turns not casual after all? And how the hell is he going to stop Draco from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?

✨ Two Shadows in the Night / 81k / Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry returns to his old school to claim the position of DADA teacher.

The way he's been ignoring his issues and trying to live up to everyone's impossibly high expectations is catching up to him. Will a certain blond ex-Death Eater be able to help him finally heal?

✨ Most Favourite Bedtime Story / 46k / Scorpius' most favourite bedtime story? The story of how his parents fell in love. And his grandmother tells it the best!

✨ Living in a Muggle World / 22k / After getting together during Eighth year, Harry and Draco move to Harry's cottage in the Scottish countryside and Draco starts working in a muggle library.

Or

My flimsy excuse to write the sappiest, cutesiest shit with almost no plot and love-letters and cheesy poems and I have absolutely no excuses or regrets.

✨ Spoiled Little Brat / 9k / Harry won't stoop to Malfoy's level.

Really, he won't.

(He will.)

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Girl and Her Boys

Platonic Stobin + Eddie || wc: 2.3k || rating: G || tags: platonic love, platonic fic, platonic stobie (steddin?), tooth-rotting fluff, humor || Robin's worried the boys have some shenanigans planned for her Spring Band Concert... and she's right

~~~

If Eddie Munson had just watched Steve’s basketball game like a normal person, instead of a nonconformist lunatic, everything would’ve been just fine. Robin really should’ve known better, shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up carrying a giant sign with Steve’s name and player number on it that read ‘best ball shooter’ with a little devil on it. 

Whenever Steve had the ball, Eddie screamed louder than the most obnoxious dads. At some point, the man pulled a damn kazoo out of his pocket along with those stupid, plastic hand clappers to celebrate Steve’s first three-pointer. 

Everyone was staring, the boys on the bench turning to sneer at him. She could feel the people around them slowly scooching away and her face burned with embarrassment. Finally, after two rounds of the Star Spangled Banner via kazoo, she turned to beg him to sit down only to then catch Steve wave out of the corner of her eye. 

She could see the blush across his face, not from exertion, but from a smile so wide that it glistened in his eyes. Eddie waved, face on fire. Robin gave him a scathing side eye when he’d turned to her and said “What, I just wanted him to notice me,” with a mischievous glint to his smile.

Robin had assumed Steve would be the bigger person and move on. He never said anything after the game, only smiling ear to ear like a puppy dog after doing a particularly impressive trick. However, she greatly underestimated her soulmate’s ability to be an absolute shit head.

Which is how a typically casual Friday night at the Hideout for Eddie’s gig turned out to be exceptionally uncasual and supremely atypical. 

She was clad in head-to-toe pastels. Nancy hadn’t agreed to come to the show, but she allowed Robin to rummage through her closet, fully on board with her and Steve’s shenanigans. Robin had picked out a pair of white heels, lavender stockings, a frilly, pink dress, and– her piece de resistance– a white cowboy hat. 

Steve’s outfit was made up of his own clothes, just taken to new heights. He wore not one, but two polo shirts, the white collar underneath popped up over his pale pink polo on the outside. His acid washed jeans looked tighter than normal, and he’d paired them with shiny, white, Adidas high-tops. Robin had laughed as she dug through his glove box on the ride over, pulling out her favorite electric blue sunglasses for him to wear. They tied the entire outfit together.

Steve had suggested making signs, “In case he can’t hear us when he’s on stage,” and definitely not as payback. All in all, they were pretty impressive. Each one dripped glitter over the sticky bar floor, although the pink puff-paint held together nicely. Robin was particularly proud of her own sign, ‘rock and roll is for sinners and winners’. She was, however, surprised when she read Steve’s ‘I’ve got the devil in me’ sign. They’d made a bit of a spectacle of themselves, waving them high above their heads as they screamed along to the few lyrics they actually knew.

The band razzed Eddie about it, but none of it mattered in the long run. Robin remembers the embarrassed flush scrawled across Eddie’s face when he caught sight of them. He’d strutted across the stage, trying to move as far from them as possible. Much like the small crowd of confused regulars creating a wide, empty space around them. In the end, Eddie always came back, smile wide and genuine and full of love.

So here Robin sits, stewing with anxiety while trying to think of what they’ve got planned now that it’s her turn. She fiddles with the trumpet in her lap as she waits for the Spring Band and Orchestra Concert to start. Her black slacks from last year are uncomfortably tight around her hips, and the white blouse her mom picked out keeps snagging on the back of the too small plastic chair she’s perched on. The garbled mess of voices ringing through the gymnasium matches the zinging swarm of bees in her stomach.

She frantically scans the crowd in front of her, but doesn’t spot them anywhere. Robin’s parents and grandparents are going to be here and she knows the boys will have something obnoxious planned. They’ve been suspiciously nonchalant all week, almost sickeningly nice.

But when the freshman band starts playing, she still can’t find them, surprised they’re not sitting up front. She tries to look around but can’t find them in the crowd. Disappointed, she starts to wonder if they actually forgot. Robin did her best to bring up the concert as little as possible, not wanting to give them time to plan anything extravagant. She wonders now if that was a mistake.

When it’s finally time for the upperclassmen’s turn, she’s forced to give up her search. She plays her melodies, counts her bars, and tries to forget about how her boys aren’t here, knowing there must be a hell of a reason to miss it. 

The brass section dwindles down to the woodwinds. The notes fade out completely, leaving a one beat pause before the flutes are supposed to take off in a frenzy. Robin hates playing songs like this. It feels like a cheap trick, some kind of gimmick her music teacher comes up with to see if he can pull one over on unsuspecting families who think the song has finished. 

It works, like it always does. Soft, scattered applause breaks out in the crowd. Her teacher’s smug smile is wiped from his face as loud, obnoxious clapping echoes off the gymnasium walls. The kids are failing to contain faint giggles and snorts of laughter. Even though this happens almost every year, it’s definitely never this damn dramatic.

Robin sits up just a little bit higher to peek over the winds section and, sure enough, in the dead center of the crowd, there’s a head of frizzy, curly hair standing tall and proud. Aside from the outburst, Robin’s actually impressed Eddie managed to dress up a bit. He’s wearing what has to be one of Steve’s navy button down shirts along with his nicest pair of black skinny jeans, sans rips and holes.

Apparently being in a band doesn’t translate to understanding when a song is actually over. He glances around, red bursting over his cheeks as everyone stares back at him. Robin has to stand slightly to catch a glimpse of Steve sitting next to him. Her best friend is slowly sinking down into his chair in a fruitless attempt to hide. He’s wearing a light blue button up, most likely with his beige slacks. Steve’s flush is somehow an even brighter shade of red than Eddie’s. He’s hiding an awkward laugh behind his fist, and Robin can’t help but smile wide and unguarded at the mirth shining in his eyes. 

These two absolute idiots.

Eddie opens his mouth, but thankfully whatever he’s about to say is cut short by Steve grabbing a hold of his shirt sleeve and yanking him back down into his seat. Robin manages to catch Steve’s eye, and he breaks out into a stupid, adorable puppy-dog grin. He does his signature little finger wave. She snorts, matching his gesture.

Eddie leans in front of Steve’s face to look at her between rows of heads and waves manically back and forth. Robin’s fully laughing now as she waves back. There’s an elbow in her side and before she can snarl at the guy next to her, he nods towards where the conductor stands glaring at her, hands hanging in the air waiting to continue the piece. 

The flutes start up, but it’s still a few bars before her first note. So of course her eyes stray to the clarinets. Vickie’s already looking at her, smiling small but genuine. Beautiful and divine. Vickie rolls her eyes fondly and Robin only replies with a half-hearted shrug. 

The boys manage to make it through the rest of the concert without causing another scene. The conductor prompts the band to rise for a bow, and polite applause breaks out throughout the crowd once more. That’s when she hears it– hell, everyone in the school probably hears it. 

Eddie and Steve wolf whistle at the same time. It’s followed by an eruption of plastic clapper applause and shouts of ‘Go, Buck!’ and ‘Hell yeah that’s my Birdie!’ Robin can’t contain the bubbles of happiness bursting in her chest, leaving her light as air. 

She looks out and sees Steve holding another homemade sign covered in glitter that reads ‘Buckley blows the best horn’. Just as Eddie explodes a confetti popper– what Robin assumes is the first of many he has stashed in his pockets– the principal appears out of thin air to scruff them both by the neck and drag them out into the hallway. She can’t read his lips from this far away, but she can see Eddie yapping away, completely unbothered. 

Fuck, Robin truly loves these boys. Her goons, her dinguses, her schmucks.

The band leaves through the side door, heading straight to the music room to store their instruments before meeting their loved ones in the cafeteria. 

“Hey,” Vickie says, out of breath from jogging to catch up, “you did a really good job.” Robin doesn’t think Vickie could specifically pick her out from the rest of trumpets–at least hopefully not– but she takes the compliment anyway. 

“Thanks,” she shouts, a little too excited. And in typical Robin fashion, has zero follow up comments. So they walk down the hall together in silence, students around them buzzing with excitement. 

Vickie clears her throat, and bumps her shoulder against Robin’s. “It’s really nice your boyfriend came to watch you play.” Vickie sighs, deflating, “Wish mine had, anyways.” 

Robin doesn’t even process Vickie’s second statement before screeching, “I’m not dating Eddie Munson! We’re just friends.” 

“Oh,” Vickie smiles, emerald eyes wide and beautiful at Robin’s little outburst, “I guess I meant Steve Harrington. Everyone knows you’re dating. And, I mean, I see you two together in the morning sometimes– not that I’m stalking you or anything,” but her adorable stumbling doesn’t matter in the face of Robin’s blatant disgust. 

“Ugh gross absolutely not, he’s like my brother. My dingus, my very platonic soulmate. Like a long-lost twin separated at birth kind of thing, but also way more annoying.” 

“Oh good,” Vickie answers. Her eyes grow large, mouth falling open in shock as she stutters, “I’m sorry, I mean… It's not good. But it’s not, not good. You know?” 

Robin actually doesn’t know, so she just smiles, bumping shoulders again because the spot where their shoulders touched before is still tingling and she wants more. Vickie relaxes next to her. They’re quiet after that, but it’s a good quiet, filled with stolen glances and hidden smiles. It’s not until they’re both headed back towards the cafeteria when Robin finally realizes what Vickie said. 

“I’m sorry your boyfriend couldn’t make it,” Robin placates, hopefully drawing up enough of a fake smile to make it seem real. She does feel bad for Vickie, but she’s not sad about it. 

Vickie pulls her lips between her teeth into a thin, angry line. She groans in annoyance, and it’s the most Robin’s ever seen her complain, almost always a bubbly ray of sunshine. It reminds her of when Steve gets bitchy, and she love it. “He could’ve made it if he actually wanted to be here,” she huffs. “Apparently going to a party with his friends is a better way to spend his Saturday night.” 

Robin’s eyebrows are raised when Vickie turns to look at her, causing her to scoff out a laugh. “I know, I shouldn’t complain,” Vickie says, obviously not meaning a single word, “but the person you’re dating is supposed to watch your crappy, high school band concert, right?” 

Person. 

Vickie didn’t say boyfriend, she said ‘person’ you’re dating. It probably doesn’t mean anything… definitely, for sure doesn’t. It still doesn’t stop Robin from blushing like one of the hundreds of women Steve hits on every day at work. Fuck, she’s no better than one of Harrington’s bimbos. 

“They should definitely be here.” Robin smiles at her sympathetically, and Vickie thanks her before they walk into the noisy cafeteria. “I’ll see you Monday?” Vickie asks, heading off to visit her family. Robin nods, feeling the dark blush blossom on her cheeks as Vickie smiles, eyes shining with delight.

Robin finally spots her own family, and it’s standard procedure. Congratulations from her parents, telling her ‘Nice job’ and ‘You all sounded so good’ but it’s the comment from her grandmother, whispered in her ear in a tight hug, which catches her off guard.

“Your boy’s waiting for you,” she nods over Robin’s shoulder. She turns to find Steve grinning his dopey I love you smile at her. It’s her favorite, something special just for her. Lost in her soulmate’s gaze, her grandma gives Robin a soft elbow to the stomach to grab her attention. “I think you found yourself a good one.”

And honestly, Robin can’t find it in herself to spout her usual arguments of ‘he’s not my boy,’ because Steve is hers. He’ll always be hers just like she’ll always be his. They still love each other, still plan to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s just not the kind of love most people expect. 

It’s a kind of love that’s theirs, and theirs alone. 

Well, and Eddie’s too, of course.

Robin smiles back at her grandmother, a wet sheen to her eyes. “Yeah, I really did, didn’t I?”

[alpaca-clouds]

Dead Gods in Mythology

Okay, another little write up that has been requested. (Note, yes, you can send me requests for mythological and historical contexts. I love talking about this stuff. Just send a DM or Ask, and I will see to it when I get time.)

This came from a discussion about Sekhmet in season 2 in Nocturne, where someone brought up: "Well, she cannot really have been a goddess if she died." And of course I had to go: "Well, actually..." At this. It ended with me promising a write up on this.

See, this is an idea that is prevasive in western culture, and gets brought up again and again in media: Gods don't bleed, and gods don't die. It has been brought up in The Road to El Dorado, The Epic Musical, and in Kaos. But this idea is actually mainly rooted in - drum roll please - Christianity of course. With the Christian God being a single god, who is supposed to be all mighty and eternal. Polytheistic cultures meanwhile tend to have a couple of gods who within the mythology die. Sure, some of them are revived by some sort of magic - or continue to exist in another plane (in those cases often becoming the guardians of some sort of plane of the dead, where all dead souls go) - but yes, the polytheistic mythologies that we know off tend to have at least one god who dies.

So, let's talk about some of them.

Ra

Given our starting point is Sekhmet, let's start with the Egyptian mythology. Here we have two big examples of gods that prominently die.

One example of this is obviously Ra. Ra's entire thing is that he does not only die in the mythology, but that he dies ONCE A DAY, which was the Egyptian mythology's explanation for why there is night and day. Ra dies at the end of the day, and he moved through the duat during the night. This is in fact part of the reason why we know so many details about the duat, as those are described in several mythological texts about Ra's journey through the world of the dead.

Of course, this might be strange example, because Ra obviously gets revived daily, too, but that does not change the fact that he dies once a day. And for a good chunk of Egyptian history (please keep in mind that Egyptian religion shifted during the 3000 years that Ancient Egypt was around) Ra was one of the most powerful gods in their pantheon so to speak.

Osiris

Then Egyptian mythology has probably one of the best known examples of a god getting killed. And that is Osiris. Like almost all of the old mythologies, the Egyptian deities were a lot into siblings marrying. And in Egyptian mythology there were noticable four siblings: Osiris, Isis, Seth and Nephthys - the latter getting usually ignored by modern audiences for some reason.

Osiris married Isis, Seth married Nephthys. And of course, as it goes with godly siblings, Osiris and Seth had a lot of quarelling and rivalry going. Seth - of course - being a god of the desert and chaos. And eventually Seth manages to trap Osiris and kill him. Now, the details of this have shifted once more throughout Egyptian history. In some variations they aphyxiate him, in others Osiris gets hacked into 26 pieces. One way or another, Isis will look for her dead brother-husband, find his corpse or his corpse parts, revive him, get pregnant with Horus, and then they find out that because he was dead he has to become now the god of the dead, being turned into the god overseeing the souls moving into the afterlife.

Baldr

Then there is of course the myth of Baldr in Norse mythology. Another son of Odin and Frigg. And it was said that Baldr was the most beautiful of all the gods. And Frigg loved him so much, that she went around the world and made everything - every stone, every animal and every plant - promise that they would never hurt him. However, she did not get to ask the mistletoe, and Loki noticed this. And being the trickster that he is, he devised a plan. He tricks the blind god Höðr to shoot a mistletoe arrow at Baldr, which then obviously kills him. In the prose Edda this is the reason for Loki's punishment with the acid spitting serpent.

Baldr of course moves onto Hella - the place, not the goddess - and remains there.

It should be noted of course that in the Edda we also know that most of the gods eventually die during Ragnarök. Though this is also where we should note, that the Edda are of course a source that we should use with some care, given that it is not a first hand account by Norse people, but was written up by Christian monks. (Most notable, a lot of researchers doubt by now that Loki ever was an actual god in Norse mythology, but was invented by Christians to fill the roll of a satan-like figure.)

Zagreus

Where are my Hades peeps at? If you have played Hades, you obviously know that Zagreus has this habit of dying and coming back. And this game mechanic is actually based in mythology.

And this is the moment where we should speak about one important fact: We tend to act as if we know everything there is to know about Greek mythology, but actually we do not know this. We know a lot about the most important gods, because we have several written sources about this - but when it comes to smaller or local gods, we absolutely are loosely informed, given we often only have text fragments. At times several text fragments that are contradictory. Zagreus is one of these.

Zagreus is either an alternative name for Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Persephone, or the son of Hades. The latter aspect has been tried to explain by researchers with the fact that we are not sure if the three big gods (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades) were always distinct entities or might have been for a long while different aspects of the same god.

One way or another: We have at least two different text fragments, in which Zagreus dies. Once he gets murdered by Titans, once he dies in an accident. One way or another he dies. And in the cases where he is a son of Zeus, this seems to be the explanation why he is bound to the Underworld.

The Hades game kinda mixed and matched with the mythology there xD

Lugh

There I go again, talking about another mythology that we are actually not quite as certain about as some people seem to believe we are: Gaelic mythology. Once more, our issue is that while some of this was written down, it was written down after the region had been Christianized, so there is a lot of Christian bias in those texts. In fact it is even more clear in this example, given that the written down accounts of the Gaelic mythology involve references to biblical events. And of course the Tuatha de Danann are in the written down accounts references more as amazing humans, rather than gods - though we are fairly certain they originally were deities, with Lugh in particilar being a god of justice and war.

In the variations of the story we know, Lugh kills another god named Carmait, as that other god had fucked one of Lugh's wives. And in revenge Carmait's sons end up killing Lugh, by spearing him on his own magic spear and then throwing him into one of the Lochs. So, yes, if you count, this story in fact involves two dead gods. Generally speaking, quite a few of the Tuatha de Danann end up dead, though, again, I will point out, that we are not fully sure how much of this is routed in the fact that these myths were recorded by later Christians, who might have wanted to make sure that everyone understands that the Tuatha de Danann were not actually gods.

Izanami

Technically we actually have a variety of Shinto gods (aka kami) who die. But I will focus maybe on the most widely known story, that pretty much everyone who ever played Persona might be aware of: Izanami. And if I recount the tale, you might in fact feel strangely reminded of other myths.

Izanami and Izanagi were the first kami that were created, and they created the land, and then the world around it, through the act of procreation with one another. Eventually Izanami gives birth to the fire god Kagu-tsuchi and he burns her to death. Her remains are buried, but the grief-stricken Izanagi cannot be without her. So he travels to the underworld, Yomi. Eventually he finds Izanami, but she tells him that she can no longer leave the underworld, as she has already eaten from the food of the underworld. He tries to convince her, but eventually he sees her face and realized that she has the face of death, and flees in terror. She gets angry at this, and curses him and the land of the living, before she remains in Yomi as the goddess of the dead.

Vritra

Vritra in Hindu mythology is one of the danava and serves as the personification of drought. In the mythology he once tries to block a river, of course with this causing a drought. The other gods cannot stand by this, and Indra, who sees Vritra as his nemesis, ends up slaying Vritra to stop the drought.

Note, here, too, that there are a couple of deities in Hinduism - as well as the religions that sprung off of Hinduism - that die at least for a shorter while.

If you have ever had the fun of talking to one of the very annoying atheists, you might have heard someone pointing out that Krishna dies and is resurrected in a way that is quite similar to Jesus. Because, yes, this general mythological concept is assumed to probably go back to the progenitor religion of the Indo-European cultures. While we do not know anything about that religion (because back then nobody wrote anything), anthropologists and comparative mythology researchers are fairly sure that there was a tale of a god dying and returning from the dead in that religion as well, which is why it shows up so often in religions of that cultural sphere.

Innana & Dumuzid

Now let's talk about another really old mythology, about which we know surprisingly much, because they have written a lot down - and we were able to translate it. And that is the ancient Sumerian mythology, in which we have Innana or Ishtar (who in Egyptian mythology later became Isis). Again, due to these also being within the realm of the Indo-European mythologies, you will find some similarities - though in comparison to other goddesses in the same role, Innana is a lot more proactive.

Innana is convinced by her brother to marry the shepard god Dumuzid, though it is fairly clear through the poems we have, that she and her husband never quite saw eye to eye. This makes her death also quite interesting. Because Innana dies by her own volition, because her sister Ereshkigal, who was made the goddess of the dead, misuses her position. So Innana dies to be able to travel to the Underworld and fight Ereshkigal to dethrone her. Enki at this point helps Innana to flee the Underworld and return to the world of the living. However, there needs to be balance in the world. So if she returns to the world of a living, someone else needs to take her place in the Underworld.

As she returns to the world of the living, she sees her servants having mourned her, while her husband, Dumuzid, just instantly went: "I am a widower? Sweet! I can fuck around with servant girls now!" And as we say: Fuck around and find out. So Innana goes: "That asshole has not even the decency to act as if he is mourning me!" So he tells the spirits of the Underworld to take him to take her place. And so they do and kill him.

Good for her!

Quetzacóatl

The very attentive of you might have noticed that all myths I have talked about so far (with the exception of Izanami, where anthropologists and comparative mythology people are still arguing about whether or not there was an influence there - mind you, I land very much on the side of "Yes, obviously, there is an Indo-European influence to Shinto-Myth!") are from the Indo-European influence sphere. So let's lastly talk about one other god, who just so happens to be probably important for Castlevania Nocturne as well: Quetzacóatl. Now, historians researching the Nahua, are fairly certain that this myth has come to be because there once was a Nahua ruler named Quetzacóatl after the deity, and that ruler died, which then in mythology got mixed up with the deity. Never the less: There definitely is written down myths about the death of Quetzacoatl.

The short of it is, that a couple of demons plotted to kill him, but knowing that they could not kill a god, they deviced a plan: They would feed him a beer that would drive him mad. While it took a lot of trickery, they succeeded, and drove the god mad, making him commit suicide by burning himself alive.

Maui

Okay, I know what some might say: "But actually is Maui a god?" I will answer: "That depends who you ask." Maui is a character that shows up throughout almost all the Pacifica cultures. He is always a trickster and a culture hero. At times he is a mortal, at other times he is a demi-god, and at yet other times he is a full god. Because those cultures were distant enough to have the myths shift around. So yes, maybe you will call this cheating. But fuck it, let me talk about Maui, because I kinda think his death is pretty darn cool.

So, if you have watched Moana, you know that Maui is a shape shifter. And he was very fond of humans. So, he decided that he wanted to make humanity immortal. His plan to do so was to go to the goddess of the Underworld and death, Hine-nui-te-pō, and reverse the birth by transforming into a worm and crawl into her vagina. However, she woke, and it turns out that her vagina had teeth - so she crushed him with her vagina teeth. Which is... pretty darn badass, I would say.

Lastly

Let me end this entire thing with the note that there probably are quite a few more gods that die within their respective mythologies. I know at least of two myths from North America in which Coyote dies (a lot of North American cultures have Coyote as a trickster god). And I personally am simply not well informed on South American mythologies or a lot of African mythologies. I do not know stuff about the Indigenous pre-buddhist mythologies of Southeastern Asia, and central Asia. So there is a good chance that there are gods that die - or die and get resurrected in those mythologies - but if there are, I simply do not know enough about them.

Generally speaking though: Gods rarely can be killed by normal mortals. Mortal half-gods might succeed at times. But other gods? Yeah, they sure can kill their fellow deities. And some deities also commit suicide to save other people. It is a common thing throughout mythology.

So, please, can we just stop claiming gods are truly immortal? They will usually not die of old age or anything like that, but they very much can be killed by other gods, magical weapons and such things.

[inkshadow]

"to be fair, i think there was a little bit of name calling..." not that it counts in this case but if he really needs to grasp at straws, he can refer back to the name she dropped for him a few minutes ago. for now, however, he's content with light bickering that won't inevitably lead to something akin to divorce. "yes, i would say that's a very good reason. just another reminder that you're with the young one." he's unable to keep the snicker at bay with that one. for all intents and purposes, he was still older than lily and that's the only fact that seems to matter here. "hey hey hey..." each one is said with increasing disappointment, though he knows the physical repercussions isn't anything lily can really help. bodies grow and stretch and repair in different ways but that doesn't make her any less beautiful. bash reaches over to set his half-finished mug down on the coffee table, only to rise and move over to the end that's sat just in front of her to perch on. "you... are the reason why she's here. you have done so much for her and me and us that i will never be able to repay you for." sheepishly, bash crosses the threshold to cradle her face, letting his thumb brush over her cheeks. "so yes — maybe we're the lucky ones. but only because you do so much for us."

“having a conversation with each other without any name calling or raised voices? that sounds pretty mature to me, at least compared to how things used to be. you haven’t even stormed off yet, so we must be doing well.” it reached a point where they could barely make it longer than twenty minutes before things inevitably exploded, so any second past that is a win in lily’s eyes. sure, they’d technically been asleep for a lot of it this time, but even that was done together. she can scarcely remember the last time they’d shared a bed without resentment forcing a wedge between them. “well, it’s a good thing i wouldn’t want to fuck any of your siblings to begin with, isn’t it?” nose scrunching in distaste, she’s of the belief that if anyone has earned the right to roll their eyes right now, it’s her and her alone. then again, bash has always been bold. “oh, don’t start that. i’m the one whose body changed after she was born, not you. now i’ve got stupid stretch marks and all you’ve done is age a bit, but you still look as handsome as the day i met you. doesn’t feel like a very fair trade off if you ask me. you're always the lucky one.”

[henry7931]

Head Swap Shorts

Borrowing My Son’s Body

Dan:

After I broke my leg, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make dinner for the family this year for big get together. Luckily, my son Sam had a great idea! Just borrow his body to get the job done.

So now I have Sam’s young body while he’s laying in my bed with mine on. The only thing that keeps throwing me off is how much I like having his body.

I feel weird to even think it but my son’s fit and it seems to get turned by the littlest of things. I really forgot what it’s like having a body this age I’ve had a boner all day long and I don’t really know what to do about it.

And now that I’m done cooking and the family shouldn’t be here for a couple more hours… I guess I can take care of it real quick?

So I went inside and went upstairs to check on Sam first. I carefully cracked the door to peak inside just in case he’s asleep— and to my surprise I see Sam literally jerking off and playing with my dick!!!

I almost said something but hey! I might as well do the same with his body.

So I headed to his room and stripped off all of his clothes. I looked down at my son’s perky junk and without any hesitation I started playing with it.

I start stroking his junk faster and faster. But in a matter of minutes, cum squirts out!

I clean off his body and walk to my room. This time I just walked right in.

Sam must of just finished up because he still had my dick out and was covered in my cum.

“Shit! Dad!!”

“Hey bud! Having fun in here?,” I say winking at him.

“Umm… yeah, sorry! This is isn’t what it looks like!”

“Listen son, it’s okay! I just finished up doing the same thing. Although, yours didn’t last that long. I wanted to see if we can stay like this until tomorrow.”

“Wow! Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I’m enjoying your body and it seems like you’re enjoying mine.”

I look down at my older dick and grinned at it.

Sam began to laugh and said, “yeah I like your body a lot. We can stay like this as long as you want dad.”

“Thanks son!”

Teddy

Christian:

Oh shit! I don’t know what to do. Here stands my uncle Cameron’s body withy freaking childhood teddy bear attached it. I was playing around with a couple of spells when he walked in and then this happened …

The weird part is his head isn’t communicating at all and yet it seems like the teddy bear is in control of his body.

I watched as the teddy bear feels up and down his new hairy arms down his new chest all the way to his legs thighs… he gets to my uncle’s junk and generally pats at it.

I watch as he tries to navigate his shorts he had on and gently peels them back. He put one of my uncle’s hands into his pants and begins peeing around.

“ hey can you hear me?” I asked the bear.

He stops for a second almost like he was looking up at me.

“So you can hear me,” I say to him.

He walks towards me and I feel a little nervous. I wasn’t sure what he was gonna do, but then he embraces me into a giant hug.

Not gonna lie it feels kinda good having my uncle’s big strong lawn wrapped around me. My uncle and I are very different. He’s a very stereotypical straight man, but one thing I would never actually admit is my attraction to his body.

I feel the teddy bear began to explore my body like he just did my uncles.

He gets to my bulge and begins to fondle out a bit. I taken my surroundings and realize it is just us in the room.

So I begin to fondle his junk as well.

We both eventually pull off our shorts. Standing close together, slowly, jerking each other off.

I begin to play with his nipples. I even put one in my mouth which is causes him to squirm a bit. I pull his body in for a tight hug. A rock hard dicks are rubbing up against each others. I squeeze his hairy ass.

He even does the same to me and then he does something that surprises me. I feel him insert one of my uncle’s fingers into my hole.

He does it so carefully, and if I didn’t know any better I think he’s done this before.

I say to him, “ let’s go to the room.”

I lead him to my uncle‘s bedroom and we both hop into bed.

I climb on top of him and make my way down to his dick. It’s a beautiful dick, thick and long complemented by a big hairy bush and big hairy balls.

I run my tongue from the head of it down to his ball sack. I get his dick, nice and wet before I get directly on top of it.

He helps me ease it into my hole. It’s just so tight getting in. But once we get going, he begins to start thrusting back-and-forth on me.

Moaning loudly and he’s using his hands to gently play with my cock.

I’m nearly screaming and our bodies are sweaty, and we can’t stop touching each other all over.

I turned my head around and I look at my uncle’s big hairy, stinky feet. I wanna suck on his toes so bad but I don’t wanna stop this moment.

 I watch his toes wiggle from excitement and it sends me over the edge. He’s thrusting in me faster and faster. He’s even going harder. I can’t take anymore, but somehow in the same time I cum and I feel his dick pour loads into my hole.

I looked down at my uncle‘s cum cover chest and I pull his dick out of me. His dick is still leaking and I even get a taste of it.

I turn around and lay back to my face or directly next to his feet. They take a big with his feet smell like a dirty gym. He just got back from a run earlier when he first walked in, and I realized he wasn’t even wearing socks.

I run my tongue up and down his soul. I realize it’s tickling the teddy bear a little bit.

A kiss each of his toes before I crawl my way back up. I feel him wrap his arm around me and I lean into my uncles chest.

I look up at the teddy bear and I say, “ do you want to stay this way forever?”

He gives me a thumbs up.

“Okay but we will have to work on your head. It’s cute but it will freak people out,” I say to him.

He pulls me in tighter and I can feel his fingers running up and down my back. Soon I fell asleep in his arms.

Two weeks later, Ted, which is what I like to call him now and I have gotten really close. He’s very smart and all they can’t speak. He does write to me.

I wanna show him so much, but I need to figure out how to change his head. I may be getting close in my spell book, but I want to be 100% sure.

So for now, me and Ted will just stay in the house. Honestly, it’s fine by me because the sex is amazing.

Coconut Head

Kent:

On vacation and something very strange happened to my older cousin. He was walking out back from the beach when all of a sudden a coconut fell off of a tree. It was so powerful that it knocked off his head and landed right on its shoulders.

I tried to help him pull it off, but it won’t move. We even took him to the hospital and they said just be patient. The coconut is on his neck so tight, but it will eventually loosen up. They said it could take weeks or even over a month.

So now I’m having to spend a lot of time taking care of my cousin’s body and his head.

Although it’s nice is if he does get a little sassy or bossy with me can always just leave his head in another room.

But what’s been really fun is while his head is away I get to explore his sexy body. My cousin is super hot and super ripped. I don’t even mind the coconut me and them because it lets me do whatever I want.

I’ll leave his head in another bedroom at night, which just leaves me in his body alone together. I’ll stay up all night, smelling and licking his pit and feet. Sucking off his cock licking his hole. I’ve even taught his body how to jerk me off and how to give a good foot job.

I’m not gonna lie I kind of hope the coconut gets stuck forever. He’s really talented with my cousin’s toes and he’s a great cuddler at night.

[l0relaii]

cockwarming with josh please please pretty please with a cherry on top 🙏🏻🙏🏻 or just misc. thoughts about him that you haven’t written about yet

oh well, since you asked so nicely i guess i have to write this 🤭

this is gonna be another long one, enjoy slutsss sjajw 🌝

you came home after a long day and found josh watching a psychology documentary for a college project

jeez he's so hot when he's all concentrated, his brows a bit furrowed and pretty green eyes so focused

you wish they'd stop for a second and focus on you instead

you decide to not disturb him, even though the ache between your legs only intensified when you leaned down where he was seated on the couch and landed a soft kiss to his cheek

he was startled a bit since he did not even notice when you entered his apartment, he didn't even hear you knocking over the old man that was speaking on tv, good thing he left the door unlocked

"oh hi babe, sorry if i ignored you, i was just so caught up i guess i didn't notice you"

"no problem josh, whatchu watching?"

"just some documentary for a project"

"that sounds.. fun"

"trust me, it's not"

he leans back on the couch cushions letting out a long sigh closing his eyes. after a moment he opens them and you can see a grin on his face when he notices you on your knees between his legs

"why don't you let me.. help you relax for a bit? i imagine it's veeery hard working when you have other.. problems"

your hand sneaks up his thigh and slides across his crotch the moment you say the last word

problems

huh, maybe he does need to relax a bit and let you take care of him.

no, knowing himself he'd forget all about the documentary and the project and he wouldn't get anything done if he surrenders to your offer

"as much as i appreciate your offer babe- i'll have to decline, at least until i'm done with this bullshit"

the little sly smirk on your face is replaced by a confused frown. what's wrong with him? he never refused you. maybe this project really is that important after all

"oh, okay then.."

you say as you lift yourself up and go around the couch heading for the bathroom

"i'm gonna take a bath"

"maybe if i'm done after that we can continue what we started"

"oh i like the sound of that.. in that case i'll take my time in the bathroom to let you finish"

it's been one hour. your skin got all wrinkly from how long you had sat in the water filled bathtub.

what were you expecting? for him to join you?

is that why you left the bathroom door wide open? or was it to listen and check if that goddamn documentary was finally over?

well it wasn't.

you could still hear that old man's voice from the living room, echoing through the hallway and into the bathroom

jesus, you wondered how could he listen so intently to him? you couldn't even process one thing that he said since you arrived home

maybe you just didn't care about anything he had to say, or you refused to listen to him out of spite for 'stealing' away your boyfriend, a childish way to behave but what could you do?

you came home from a long exhausting day and all you wanted was for josh to fuck you silly

you finally step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself before exiting the bathroom and heading back to the living room

if josh wasn't going to take a break on his own accord, you were going to make him

you move so fast, it's like you're possessed by something and can't control yourself. you step in front of the tv and drop your towel without even thinking

but then you snap out of your frenzy and realize what you've just done, your face heating up from the embarrassment

you can't even bring yourself to look at josh, but you don't have to do that to notice the way he's shifting on the couch

"come here"

"josh-"

"i said come here"

you obey him stepping towards the couch and only then you notice his pants and underwear are off. ohhh, so that's why he was shifting so much

"what has gotten into you, huh? can't even wait 'till i'm done baby?"

"i'm sorry i-"

"i don't think you are, i think you wanted this since the beginning sweetheart"

"josh, please-"

you don't get to finish because he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in his lap. your breath hitches when your back hits his chest. your skin is still a bit damp from your bath but he doesn't seem to care

"now, you're gonna sit still on my cock until it's all over and listen to every single damn thing, are we clear?"

"y-yes"

he lifts you a bit and drags his length through your already slick folds before nudging his tip at your entrance and pushing you all the way down

your breath hitches at the slight sting but you don't get to protest because he shoves a notebook and a pen in you hands

"maybe you could even help me a little with my notes, huh? you think you can do that?"

absolutely not. you spent the last hour despising the sound of anything from that documentary, and now you're expected to write down notes? oh hell n-

"yes josh"

"good girl.."

holy shit, what are you gonna do? how are you supposed to write anything with his cock pulsing deep inside you?

oh but that's not all.. the teasing bastard decided to start rubbing circles around your clit while nipping at your shoulder blade

"what's wrong babe..? is it hard? trying to do something and being constantly distracted?"

"mfuck, josh-"

his hand slaps down on your sensitive nub, not hard enough to cause actual pain, but hard enough to send a stinging feeling straight to your core

"ohh, d'you like that baby? you're squeezing me so damn hard, fuck-"

you can feel him throbbing inside you, is he close? jeez, and he hasn't even moved, and you're not sure he will with the iron grip his other hand has on your hip holding you down

"oh c'mon josh, this is ridiculous"

you say turning your head and trying to wiggle your hips a little. maybe you'll convince him to finally give you what you wanted all evening?

you feel another slap on your pussy, this time a little harsher than before

"eyes forward babe, you should be watching the documentary, not me. ohhh look, you haven't taken any notes?"

another slap.

"what a shame.. i guess we're gonna have to watch the whole thing again? maybe then you'll be a good girl and do as you're told.. how long was it? 2 or 3 hours if i remember correctly..? "

"jesus fucking christ josh, i'm sorry, look i'm writing please please don't start it over please"

you start scribbling down on the paper in a desperate attempt to make him change his mind

maybe you are gonna have to listen to this shit after all

and you notice that the old man's voice you heard from the bathroom is not that unpleasant at all, on the contrary, he captivates you

maybe that's why josh was so drawn to this thing in the first place

after you're done and you show him what you've written down josh praises you and actually starts moving his hips pulling you tightly into his chest

"that's my smart girl.. look at you darling.. maybe we should watch some more documentaries together from now on, huh?"

[farthest-harbor]

Hey, I heard you have Nick Valentine HCs?

I really like to hear them! 😄

It can be anything, just go ahead. What is the first one, which comes into your mind?

I love you for asking, thank you!

Here are a few:

All the patches on is coat he mended himself. It's one of the ways he fills the lonely hours when everyone else is sleeping, It's something human Nick never learned to do, but our Nick taught himself after his first few scuffles in the post-war world.

His metal hand doesn't have any sense of touch. I think his skin is probably full of minute wires that function as nerves, so when he lost the skin on his hand, he lost feeling in it. Now he has to rely on his vision to confirm that his hand is moving the way he wants it to. It took him a long time to get used to but he's mastered it now.

He doesn't like to take off his hat around strangers. I think he's a little self-conscious about the fact that he can't grow any hair. I think human Nick had a full head of hair and synth Nick can't help but compare himself. He'll take his hat off in the agency around Ellie, or around Sole if they get close with him, but if anyone he's not close with steps in the room, the hat goes back on.

He totally wears suspenders under that trench coat. 'Nuff said.

I think he carries around a small repair kit in his coat with a couple small tools and some spare wire/screws/bolts/electrical tape but it's only enough for minor temporary repairs. He uses this kit for quick patch jobs when he gets hurt on a case, just to hold him over till ge hets back home and can do a full repair.

He's an excellent dancer. Human Nick went dancing pretty often and synth Nick inherited some of that "muscle" memory. He's got rhythm and an elegant, sophisticated style. He's a little rusty at it, though, because he doesn't go out dancing on his own, and he's got no partner to practice with. Perhaps sole could take him out to the Third Rail sometime so he can show off his skills...

He's been subtly trying to get Ellie and Travis together for years. He thinks they'd be sweet together, and has encouraged Ellie to talk to Travis a few times. Nothing ever seems to come of it, but Nick hasn't given up yet.

You know his file cabinets are a hot mess. It drives Ellie nuts when he puts files back out of order, since she always tries to rearrange them alphabetically. When she brings it up to him, he just shrugs and smiles and tells her that he put it back in the correct year, so it's no big deal.

Obviously, he doesn't need to shower or bathe, and doing so would probably ruin all his processors. If he gets dusty/dirty on a job, he'll wipe his face and hands down with a wet rag when he gets home.

While the cigarettes do nothing for him chemically or physically, the ritual of lighting one and smoking it brings him comfort when he's stressed. An old habit from human Nick. It does leave a slight sooty residue on some of his internal parts and probably clogs a few fans/vents, but he just patiently cleans them with a rag during his repairs sessions. It's worth it to him for the comfort of smoking.

Although he's friendly to Piper, he doesn't actually like her that much. He thinks her newspaper is pretty disreputable, more spreading rumors than actual news, and her inflammatory articles about synths and the Institute have drastically escalated the hostility he's faced living in Diamond City. Still, he empathizes with Piper and the fears people have about synths, so he keeps his mouth shut. She still gets on his nerves sometimes, though.

I have so many more, but I'll stop here for now. I am quite thoroughly obsessed with this guy, so if anyone wants to hear more hcs about him, or hcs about some specific aspect of his character, my asks are always open. I could talk about this guy for hours.

[modern-politics111]

This Inauguration Day, remember two things: You are not alone. And you have the power to help

Today, it's normal and expected to feel afraid and angry. So much has been said about Trump's plans and all the terrible things he wants to do. And many well-meaning voices have talked about these plans so often, they feel inevitable.

I want this post to serve as a history lesson for younger readers, and a reminder for old folks like me. The big lesson: We've faced exactly this situation before. We got out of it. And we have the power to do it again.

Here's what I mean:

You are not alone

Trump and the GOP want you to feel like everyone supports him now. They're acting like all Americans are full MAGA now and that the culture has shifted away from liberalism.

But that's not true. The man won a small popular vote victory on the back of millions of voters not showing up this time. Check the research; in most cases, the "huge shifts towards Trump" was really voters not showing up. Not good, of course, but not a sign of a mass conversion to MAGA.

And communities like this one still exist. We're not just here to be a community - more on that in a sec - but you're among 60,000 friends across America and internationally who aren't OK with this. And those groups exist in real life, too, likely near you.  Check them out, because being too online is part of the problem, too. And the Internet is where a lot of the non-stop wave of untrue predictions of doom come from.

Find your community of people who want to resist. Start here, and look around offline. But remember that there are millions just like you, who want to stop this.

You have the power to help

Let's get this out of the way: There will be elections. Elections we can win. Elections that matter.

Don't believe me? Come back tomorrow (Jan 21). There's an election in South Carolina - State House District 113 in North Charleston, Hanahan, and Summerville, to be exact. It's a safe Democratic seat, just the kind of seat a tyrant would prevent elections in. When the polls close tomorrow at 7, you'll see that we still have elections.

Then we have a chance to build Dem power in Iowa, maintain control of the Minnesota State Senate, and choose our candidates for two critical US House elections. Those elections will happen, too.

Later in the year, we've got to maintain control of the WI and PA Supreme Courts, win back the Virginia Governor's office, and flip state and local governments across America. Those elections will happen, too.

In 2017, we all got a lesson in government. Specifically, that state and local governments can do a lot to resist the President's agenda. These races are where the power is. And when you start winning, you build momentum and energy. Then you can win races you thought Democrats had no business winning.

And that's why this sub exists. To inform you of these elections, and give you the tools to help win them from anywhere.

You can help win all sorts of elections right now. I know. Today is hard, and it hurts. But a secret I've learned is that sitting in your misery, or yelling it into the void, rarely makes things better. The cure for sorrow is changing the situation. And you'll be amazed at how easily Trump folds on his big promises when he gets a little resistance.

You are not alone. You have the power to help. And we're right here with you.