#reservation dogs fix

[moka44]

Bear's girlfriend punching Jackie for him.

(Bear x native/mexican f!reader) A/n: this will take place season 1 ep 2. This is my first story so please be kind, its also 3 in the morning for me so if it didnt come out good thats also why lol. But I hope you enjoy.

TW: A lot of swearing

One minute Bear was walking down the alley, the next minute he was done getting jumped by Jackie and her gang, soon waking up to seeing a spirit, ”Aho! Young warrior!” Bear heard. After everything, Bear couldn't help but walk in pain to the one place he knew he can alway go to. As Bear arrived he knocked on the door until his eyes met beautiful dark brown eyes, he could stare at them all day and those eyes belonged to his beautiful girlfriend.

“Oh dios mio! Bear what the hell happened?” you asked. You made him sit down on the couch and closed the door. “Fucking jackie and her crew.” Bear said as he rested his body on the couch while putting his head up. “That puta!” you responded. You sat down next to him,setting the first aid kit on the coffee table that was in front of the both of you.

You started cleaning Bear's nose, he couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have you. How you are always there for him when he needs it, to the time they spend with each other, the way you laugh, how you speak full spanish when you are pissed even though it does scare him, he still loves that about you. How your long black wavy hair is always soft. How you teach him how to cook your favorite Mexican food. Remembering when he first saw you, when someone mentions you he always thinks about how beautiful you are. He can tell you anything but of course you are going to tell him what you think but he loves that about you, how you are honest with him and will tell him if he was in the wrong. When he told you about Daniel, you pulled him into a hug and let him cry his heart out. 

“What are you thinking about in that head?” Bear hears you ask him as you finished cleaning his nose. “Just how lucky I am to have you in my life.” he said, putting his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. “Oh really?” Y/n giggled looking at him while you put an arm around his neck gently as your other hand is on his chest. “Yup and thankful for having you in it too, because if i didn't then i would be at the hospital right now.” Bear said, grabbing your hand that was on his chest kissing it. Bear looked over at you leaning in to kiss you. You can tell he put all his emotions into that kiss, you can feel it all. You pulled away to catch some air putting your forehead into his. “But you know you still have to go to the hospital, mi oso. That was actually where I was going to meet you guys before you got here. But just because I cleaned the blood from your nose doesn't mean it's not bad.” you told him.

“My mom going to freak the fuck out.” Bear said, sitting up and sighing. “I know but you still have to go babe.” you told him rubbing his back trying to comfort him. You soon get up from the couch going to the kitchen, grabbing some water and tylenol for him. You hand him the water with the tylenol, “This should help with the pain.” you said. He drank the tylenol with the water, after he was done he handed it back to you saying thank you. You set the glass in the sink, soon grabbing your keys, “ ready to go?” you asked him while holding your hand out. Bear looked at your hand, grabbing it while you both walked out the door. After you locked your door, the both of you got in your car and made your way to the hospital.

You both arrived at the hospital seeing Elora, Willie jack and cheese, as you both said what's up to them. You helped bear check himself into the hospital, “ill be right back, i forgot my mom asked me to get her some snacks for lunch, do you want anything?” you asked Bear but he shook his head no. As you were in the store getting snacks you noticed a black car that looked really familiar, so you hurried to the register to pay then left. When you got back to the hospital, you saw Bear outside with Elora and Willie jack, “What did the Doctor say?” you asked, “Well he basically asked if he can get with mine or your mom but other than that its not broken.” Bear replied. “That good it's not broken” you said, hugging him. Bear hugged you back but soon let go so you can take the snacks inside. You asked Bev to give the stuff to your mom, handing her the bag.

You went back outside and made your way to the group hearing Bear, “The fuck is this?”, “Fucking nerve, man, leaning on your car. Trying to act solid” Willie Jack said to Elora. You couldn't help but feel the anger you had earlier when Bear first came to your house with his busted nose. You couldn't help but think ‘im going to beat this bitch up’.” Where the fuck is Cheese? Let’s do this then, ”Bear said. “Yo, what's up, motherfuckers?! Oh, you guys were so fucking sick when you jumped me by my fucking self.” Bear said, walking up to Jackie and her crew. You and Willie jack both started taking off your guys' earring walking behind Bear. You notice your mom and bear mom Rita came outside to break everything up. After they did Officer Big came out to stop everything but as everyone was walking away Jackie said “Go on, mama’s boy take your little girlfriend with you.”.

That made you snap, “Jackie” you said making her turn around, you ran towards her punching her in her face knocking her down. “That's what happens when you jump my boyfriend. Estupida maldita perra. Te golpeare el culo, pruebame otra vez perra.” you told her that as your mom pulled you back before Jackie could do anything. "Holy shit." Bear thought, he couldnt help but smile at himself. he never seen him girlfriend react like this before but boy did he think she was so sexy punching Jackie. After everything you went home to rest since it was already getting late. After getting ready to go to sleep you hear someone tapping on your window, you already knew who it was. Opening the window for Bear to come in, but when he stepped into your room he kissed you like he was starving.

Bear soon pulled away, “you were so hot when you punched that bitch in the face.” he said looking at you. “Is that so? Well hopefully now she knows to keep her distance.” You said laughing. You walked to your dresser pulling some of Bear's clothes out, throwing them at him. This was just another normal night, where Bear comes over to hang out sometimes like this night, he spends the night. You turn off the light to your room, making your way to the bed. As you both laid down, Bear pulled you to lay in his chest. He knew you loved to hear his heartbeat, it was like a lullaby to you. “Thank you.” Bear said. “For what mi amor?” you ask. “Sticking by my side today.” Bear responded, sitting up a little to look at you, moving a little piece of hair out your face, you both looked at each other moving closer until Bear closed the gap between you. Bear pulled away, “I love you so fucking much.” he said. “I love you too Mi Oso.” you said to him as you laid back on his chest, you both soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

Oh dios mio= Oh my goodness

puta=bitch

Mi oso= my bear

Estupida maldita perra.Te golpeare el culo, pruebame otra vez perra = Stupid fucking bitch.i'll kick you ass. Try me again bitch.

[punkitt-is-here]

Hi, I'm genuinely looking for an explanation here and not looking for an argument /srs

Can you explain how calling a transfem a TERF for spreading ideology that I genuinely assumed was included in the definition of TERFism is othering ? Not to be that guy, but I'm autistic and I'm having a very hard time connecting the points you're making, and I genuinely want to learn and understand what you're saying /gen

Again, I do hope this doesn't come off as hostile, I am genuinely trying to learn and understand better, and I want to be able to fix misconceptions about what a TERF is in my own mind, and I haven't seen anyone bring this point up before /gen

You absolutely do not have to answer this, but I hope you have a fabulous rest of your day, and I do apologize for what I said, as it wasn't necessary for me to comment on the situation.

Yeah totally! Okay, I got a lot of this from Ibram X. Kendi's "How to be Antiracist"* where he talks about describing "racist" as an identity means that hardly anyone is going to ever "identify" with it, even if they are a racist. It's much more helpful to talk about actions being racist or anti-racist. Someone committing racist acts speaks far more to the vulnerability of anyone to cause harm, rather than it being something ONLY reserved for someone with the identity of "racist". For example, Clarence Thomas, a black man, has done untold amounts of harm to the black population in the US. If we subscribe to the "oh, (X) can't be racist, they are (a minority)" train of thought, it means people are less likely to understand that Clarence Thomas commits racist acts. In the same way, describing yourself as an anti-racist is not enough, as it can let people be comfortable with racist actions because they think "oh, I'm an anti-racist, I can't commit acts of racial harm." That's why it's more helpful to describe acts as racist and anti-racist rather than framing them as identities.

In a similar way, describing someone as the label of "TERF" can have a similar effect. Because it's specifically a label centered around being anti-trans, transgender people of all kinds will easily assume they cannot be transphobic, because the label of TERF is ideologically opposed to their existence. It invites ridicule rather than introspection. By saying actions can be transphobic, I think it helps a lot more because it's easier to understand that trans people can be transphobic. For example, Blaire White is right there. Despite being a trans woman, she is actively doing transphobic acts. By calling out an action as transphobic rather than describing someone as a "TERF", it helps fight back against the idea that being trans means you cannot be transphobic. For a super duper simple example, I can step on my dogs tail, but it doesn't mean I hate dogs, it means I committed an act of harm against my dog. Describing me as a dog-hater when I LOVE dogs would invite ridicule more than it would a tendency to watch my step when my dog is in the house. I hope this makes sense!

*I'm not trying to say the Black and Trans experience is exactly the same, just that like any oppressed group, there is a lot of overlap in tactics and thinking, especially for people who are Black and Trans. Reading about other groups can really give you a ton of helpful insight on how to work within your own identity!

[emmyrosee]

“Hey.”

“Hi?”

This is the first time in four weeks you’ve answered his phone call. He never thought he’d be the one to break no contact first.

Sukuna tried, god he’s tried so hard to keep no contact, but there’s something about your saccharine voice that lures him back like a siren. He can’t get enough of it, and the lack of it in his life drove him crazy.

What you don’t know, is how often he clicks on your contact, how many times a day he dials your number, how much his fingers long to text you.

Even if after four weeks, he’s gone without it.

It’s hitting the call button that he hasn’t done. Until tonight, of course.

His mind scrambles to find an excuse for calling you, jaw opening and closing like a fish, and eyes darting around, even if you don’t see it. His gaze falls onto his sleeping dog, and he sinks his teeth into his lip.

“I just wanted to let you know, I finally got Titan to do that trick. You know-“

“Wow. Thanks for letting me know,” you say sarcastically. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah,” he says, gnawing at the tip of his thumb. “Yeah. Sorry to bug you. I just… thought you’d like to know.”

But neither of you make a move to hang up. He was positive you would immediately, sick of his voice and his attitude, but you don’t. Maybe you needed this as much as he does.

“No,” he finally croaks. “No okay? I’m not done. I fucking miss you.”

“Sukuna, stop-“

“No, you stop,” he snaps, voice tight with emotion. “Because if this is the last time we talk, you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen good.”

You go silent. He hears you breathing, and you don’t make any noise to indicate you’re going to hang up. He lets you sit there, pondering, he wants to leave the ball in your court, even if ending the call is his worst nightmare right now.

“Speak.”

He shudders at the coldness in your voice, he rolls his shoulders and slumps back.

“You… are all that I think about,” he says firmly. “You and I, we are golden. I can’t imagine my life with someone else, I fucking hate to, there’s no one for me but you, and the fucking fact that I have to wake up to a cold bed because of something I did, is something I hate.

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, I miss your voice and your laugh and your eyes. I miss your cold hands sneaking under my shirt, and I miss the way you fit against me when we cuddled. I miss you so fucking much, I hate this, I hate it so fucking much, and if I could fix it I would, I want to, please let me fix it-“

“You can’t.”

You shut him up.

“There is no fixing it, sukuna. You broke that trust, shattered it. You think I don’t miss you? You’re crazy.”

He calls your bluff, “you’re full of it. You want to get back together so bad it makes you sick. I know it does, I know you.”

“And how exactly have you come to that conclusion?” You scoff.

“Because you picked up the phone.”

You’re silent at that. He sinks his teeth into his lip, “you’d never answer the phone on someone you want out of your life. You’ve ignored people for less, you don’t fool me for one second.”

You’re still silent. He hears you breathing, as if waiting for him to keep going, read you like a book and prove you wrong.

He rests his head on the wall and shakily calls out your name, letting the vowels feel foreign on his tongue from lack of use. Pet names became so popular, his mouth almost forgot how to say your name. “I can fix this, if you’ll let me. I fucked up. But I know I can fix this.”

“You can’t fix shit,” you scoff. “You would’ve never let it get so bad in the first place if you cared.”

“I couldn’t fix what had already been destroyed,” he snaps. “But we know where we went wrong. We knew what went right. We can do this, do not send me away.”

There’s hesitation on your end. He feels it, he feels your reserve crumbling as he speaks.

“Please… don’t send me away,” he whispers.

You sigh. He sucks in a breath in preparation.

“I miss Titan,” you confess. “If we’re going to talk, we’re doing it at your place, so I can see your dog.”

He smirks.

“And I make no promises,” you hiss. “You don’t get the satisfaction of thinking we’re automatically getting back together because I don’t want to do this over the phone. We’re not. Not yet. Not now. But this isn’t a conversation to not do face to face.”

He closes his eyes and lets his body relax.

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t call it a date.”

[embbarnes]

Filthy Fingers.

summary: You check on Bucky after the mission in Madripoor.

warnings: Angst | TFATWS!Bucky | PTSD episode | Sexual trauma | Mentions of SA & SH | Slight SH | Vague descriptions of medical procedures | Swearing

a/n: Back on my bullshit with angsty fics. I wish the series had done something more than brushing this scene off as nothing. I have similar trauma with his experiences, so I sort of put my heart into this. I hope you enjoy, he needs a hug. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.4k

It horrified you, even if you knew about it prior.

After the mission, you searched for Bucky upon returning to the safehouse that Zemo had insisted on using. Bucky had already retreated to the bedroom you both shared, locking himself inside. You knew something was wrong, you knew him better than anyone honestly. He had barely muttered a few words about feeling exhausted before withdrawing from the group. The locked door and his sudden disappearance had you concerned about his well-being, especially considering the shitty mission you had done.

Zemo pushed Bucky to act as the Winter Soldier again, the man took great pride in being his handler and controlling him like a puppet, just as HYDRA had done. He relished in ordering him to attack and heel like a dog, and his cruel comments about using his body, about selling him in exchange for information, made you furious. Sam didn’t quite get the depth of the situation, though he had a good idea, he just didn’t know the extent. He didn’t want to ask.

Bucky’s behavior back at the house seemed unusual, even for someone typically reserved like himself, and you couldn't decide what to do, debating whether to check on him or give him the space he seemed to desperately need.

You also had to fight the urge to break Zemo's jaw.

As deep night fell over the city, a hush descended upon the streets. Sam and Zemo, too, decided to call it a night, bidding their farewells before retiring to their respective rooms. You found yourself alone in the kitchen, the sudden quietness of the house sounded so loud in your ears. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made the decision to head towards the bedroom. Your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you approached the door.

Your knuckles gently rapped against the wooden surface as you announced your presence. The sound seemed to hang in the air for a moment before you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. You stepped into the dimly lit room, your eyes immediately fell on Bucky. You weren’t surprised that he wasn't asleep; sleep often eluded him, and considering the memories that undoubtedly came back to him after the mission, you didn’t blame him.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. His gaze was fixed intently on the wooden floorboards, tracing the intricate patterns etched into their surface. The silence in the room was heavy and Bucky remained motionless, not even lifting his eyes to acknowledge your entrance.

You closed the door with a gentle click and cautiously made your way towards him, your footsteps barely audible on the floor. As you approached, you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. "Hey..." You began, your voice barely above a whisper, carefully considering each word as you prepared to navigate this situation.

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you shifted your position, crossing your legs where you had been kneeling. Your eyes never left Bucky's face, searching for any sign of acknowledgment. He remained motionless, his lack of response hanging heavy in the air between you. But his stillness was preferable to a negative reaction. At least he wasn't pushing you away or lashing out in his distress.

"I know this is stupid, and it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but..." You paused, weighing your words carefully before continuing, "Do you want to talk about what's going on? About what happened?" The question left your lips in a gentle, non-pressuring tone, leaving the decision entirely up to him. You sat there patiently, ready to listen if he chose to open up, or to simply provide a comforting presence if he preferred silence.

Bucky remained silent initially, his gaze fixed intently on the floor. He drew in a shaky, uneven breath, his eyes noticeably bloodshot and surrounded by dark, heavy circles. It was obvious that he had been struggling with sleep, but you knew that even a small amount of rest would be beneficial compared to none at all, especially dealing with the Flag Smashers and all the bullshit you were both thrown into again.

"Why don't you try to lie down and get some rest? I'll stay right here with you," you suggested gently, your voice filled with concern as you waited patiently for any sort of reaction from him. After a moment of hesitation, you added, "I know you might not feel like sleeping right now, but we have so much shit we have to do tomorrow.” You mumbled, “A few hours, at least.”

Hoping to appeal to his practical nature, you attempted to persuade him to sleep by emphasizing the logical reasons for doing so. However, your efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky remained unresponsive. You sighed, your arm stretched up to reach for the blanket that lay haphazardly across the bed, intending to cover him and provide some comfort if he wasn’t going to sleep. Just as your fingers brushed against the soft fabric, Bucky's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I felt it," he murmured, his words so faint that you had to strain to hear them, the pain and vulnerability in his tone made your heart stutter.

You turned to look at him, your hand still grasping the edge of the blanket, and you settled back down fully on the seat. Your eyes met his, searching for understanding as you softly inquired, "Felt what?"

"Hands," he muttered, his gaze flickered momentarily before meeting yours again. "I felt... hands. On me. They weren't his," Bucky spoke slowly but with a certainty that sent a chill down your spine. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Not Zemo's hands, but I would have preferred if he didn't touch me at all during the damn interrogation." His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air between you.

You watched as his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to retreat into the labyrinth of his thoughts. A maze he still couldn’t get through, he’d always be lost, stumbling upon memories randomly and losing others he had a grip on. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken memories and the weight of past trauma.

You nodded, remaining silent for a moment as you processed the situation. The anger bubbled within you, fueled by Bucky's own emotions. Zemo's arrogant behavior had struck a nerve, his deliberate attempts to provoke Bucky were infuriating. The man was more than just an asshole in your eyes and words; he was a calculated manipulator, intent on unraveling all the progress Bucky had made.

His creepy obsession had drawn tension between the group. Zemo had persistently tried to breach Bucky's defenses, attempting to draw out the Winter Soldier persona that lay dormant within him. His tactics were cruel and precise, aimed at undoing years of healing and dragging Bucky back into the darkness of his past.

What made it so much worse was Zemo's obvious familiarity with the red book - that cursed tome that held so many of Bucky's painful secrets. You were certain Zemo had pored over every page, absorbing all the horrific details it contained. The book was a comprehensive record of Bucky's torment: control words that could strip away his free will in an instant, precise actions that would render him a puppet, and graphic descriptions of the punishments HYDRA inflicted whenever Bucky showed the slightest hint of disobedience or failure. The thought of Zemo possessing this knowledge, wielding it like a weapon against Bucky, made your blood boil.

"Bucky..." you began, your voice soft and laden with emotion. You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your empathy. "I'm so... sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. It's just…not fair…that you have to endure all of this. You never asked to be pushed into this shit again." There was clear frustration in your voice with a mix of anger at the circumstances and deep concern for Bucky's well-being.

Your mind drifted to the apartment you shared with Bucky, while he wasn't always at his best there either, it was a vast improvement compared to situations like this. The space was familiar. He was surrounded by sights and sounds he knew, Bucky found a measure of peace inside the walls, mostly because you were there with him. He still struggled with his demons, but within the safety of your home, he could face them without the added pressure of external threats or responsibilities that weren't rightfully his to bear.

But it seemed that no matter what, the outside world was determined to drag him back into conflict.

In your apartment, there were no manipulative villains, no reminders of his painful past, no hidden ulterior motives to hurt him, just the warmth of your presence and the promise of a better future than past. He had you, and you were always there with him, helping him navigate through the storm that always threatened to pull him down again.

"M'used to it," he mumbled weakly, his voice devoid of emotion, carrying the weight of resignation and defeat. The words fell from his lips like heavy stones of the burdens he had borne. "I've had worse than simply being traded away for sexual favors."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't just be used to it," you countered, "You didn't deserve anything they put you through. I don't care what justifications they gave or what they forced you to do. You, Bucky Barnes, are a good person. You, at your core, are pure and untainted. You are the one in control now. Not the soldier they created, not HYDRA with their manipulation, not anyone else. It's all you."

Your eyes locked onto his, your gaze gentle yet unyielding, radiating unwavering belief in him as you tried so desperately to let him see how much faith you had in him. "You've already won over their programming, Bucky. You've reclaimed yourself."

"Then why won't his memories go away?" Bucky croaked out, his voice cracking under the weight of suppressed emotion. "I want nothing more than to...to forget. It's...it's so hard, doll," his voice wavered, the floodgates of emotion threatening to burst open despite him trying his damnedest to keep it all in. "Why can't I forget the bad, and why can't I remember the good?"

Bucky sounded completely worn down, his voice cracking with heavy emotion as he spoke. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and self-loathing washing over him. The weight of his perceived inadequacy pressed down on him, making him feel incredibly pathetic and foolish.

Your support through numerous similar episodes didn’t shake off the intense feelings of guilt and self-deprecation that consumed him during these moments. It was as if he viewed himself as nothing more than a heavy burden, a complex problem that you were obligated to solve time and time again. Even a glued vase is still cracked and much weaker than an untouched one.

No amount of reassurance or comfort seemed capable of mending his fractured psyche. He’s still broken, no matter what you do to help.

In his mind, he was irreparable, his former self having been long gone. Hell, he's not even whole. The prosthetic arm, the threatening object that he despised with every fiber of his being. Vivid, haunting memories flooded his consciousness as he recalled the moment HYDRA had finally attached the mechanical limb.

The sensation was overwhelmingly unpleasant - the arm felt unnaturally cold against his skin, its heavy weight throwing off his balance and coordination. In his disoriented state, he could feel the lifeless metal appendage hanging limply at his side, dragging him down both physically and mentally. The phantom sensations of drills and saws assaulted his senses, causing him to relive the trauma of the procedure.

Wide awake.

He was desperate to rid himself of the foreign object, so he clawed frantically at the point where metal met flesh, feeling the cold, unyielding surface beneath his fingertips. The memory of being forcibly restrained to prevent him from damaging the prosthetic flashed through his mind, the clinical indifference of his captors etched permanently behind his eyelids. It was clear to him that their sole concern lay with preserving the integrity of the mechanical marvel they had created, with no regard for the man to whom it was attached.

He was nothing more than a vessel for their prized creation - the arm was their priority, not the broken soldier who bore it.

Then their hands came.

Never-ending hands on his body, everywhere.

They always came when he couldn't fight back.

Teasing, pinching, groping, twisting, penetrating.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it -

Bucky's loud thoughts were abruptly interrupted as you reached out and gently grasped his flesh hand, your voice filled with concern as you spoke, "Bucky, hey, hey, stop... It's alright, you're safe now, it’s just you and me." The urgency in your tone was notable, yet you managed to keep it soft and reassuring.

His brow furrowed deeply, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his features as he slowly turned his gaze from you to his hand, which you now held firmly in your own, having pulled it away from his body. A searing hot sensation radiated from his scar, and with a sinking feeling, he realized what he had been doing.

He had been scratching at the old wound, hard. Clawing, digging, as if trying to remove something from his skin. His arm, the metal - titanium, vibranium - did it matter?

"It's okay, you're fine," you whispered gently, your voice acting like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. Your hands worked carefully but firmly to keep his own from returning to where he had been clawing. Your thumb gently rubbed circles on his inner wrist in an attempt to keep his mind grounded. You were always scared during these moments, worried for his well-being as the rooted fear threatened to overwhelm you.

But you pushed it down, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor for his sake. Your voice remained steady as you continued to comfort him, "It's okay... you're doing so good, Buck Buck..." The silly name slipped out naturally, reminding him of where he was and who he was with. You always called him Buck Buck instead of just saying Buck once, you knew that endearment made him think of Steve. And he didn’t like doing that with Steve being gone.

"Breathe," you gently instructed him, guiding him to take slow, deep breaths as the memories and vicious flashbacks gradually began to subside. "You're doing great, just like that. Keep focusing on your breaths." You continued to offer words of encouragement and carefully guide him through the breathing exercises, your voice soft yet steady. His eyes, now rimmed with red, glistened with moisture, the strain of the moment evident in his features.

Delicate streams of tears traced paths down his cheeks, tiny rivers carrying his pain and guiding it out of him. The sight tugged at your heart, but you remained a pillar of support and strength for him to lean on.

"Make it stop," he rasped out to you, his voice thick with desperation and fear. "Make it stop," Bucky repeated, his body instinctively moving towards you as if seeking shelter from an invisible storm. "They're on me," he added, his words barely above a whisper, laced with a haunting mixture of panic and pleading.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him the second his body touched yours, enveloping him in a protective embrace. You would always wait for him to make the first move closer, respecting his space and not wanting to inadvertently exacerbate his episodes. Your touch was gentle yet firm, grounding him in the present moment.

"No one is touching you but me, baby," you assured him, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "And I'm not doing any of those awful things. I would never. You're safe here with me, Bucky. We're getting through this, you’re doing so good. Just focus on me and taking those breaths okay?"

Bucky remained pressed against you, his body tense and trembling as he desperately attempted to hide himself inside your smaller body. His hand darted up to his shoulder, fingers curled as if to claw at something unseen. Then his hand quickly moved to his neck, desperately grasping and pulling at an invisible entity.

The frantic movements sent a chill down your spine as you watched him struggle against phantoms of his past, it never ceased to horrify you to see him react to the glimpses he was shown again from HYDRA. You tried not to let your imagination run wild, but the implications were clear and it only made you feel even worse seeing him play it out.

You felt helpless.

All you could really do during these episodes was be there for him.

Holding him close, enveloping him in a gentle embrace that provided a sense of security and reassurance, something so simple yet so luxurious in his life. Your touch was carefully calibrated, always mindful of his boundaries and sensitivities, ensuring that every contact communicated safety and understanding. You learned what he liked, disliked, what made things better and worse. You would soothe him with those very tender caresses, running your fingers through his hair or tracing calming patterns on his back, grounding him in the present moment.

Bucky really liked when you rubbed his back.

You would speak words of encouragement, your phrases were carefully chosen so they’d break through all the rampant thoughts flooding his mind. You reminded him of his resilience and progress. You whispered affirmations of his worth, validate his feelings, and reassure him of your presence and support throughout the episode.

“It’s not real, Bucky. No one is here, no one is touching you. It’s just me. You are safe.”

The efforts you put into comforting him so tenderly often felt mediocre or not enough, you always felt like nothing was ever working or meant a thing. But for Bucky, they were his lifeline, you helped him more than you could possibly fathom. Having endured these episodes alone for so long, the contrast of facing them with your loving support made them significantly easier, more manageable.

You held him for a while, gently cradling his body against your own. Most of the time, he just needed this physical connection to be brought back to reality, to feel grounded and secure again. Your arms enveloped him in a protective embrace, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Sometimes you’d wrap him in a blanket, but you didn’t think Bucky was going to let you move to grab one.

Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hands up and down his back just how he liked. Your fingertips tracing intricate, soothing patterns across the fabric of his shirt, random shapes and swirls, sometimes a letter or number that he’d weakly repeat into your chest. The repetitive motion seemed to have a calming effect on both of you, a silent reassurance that everything would be alright.

As you continued to hold him, your gaze wandered towards the window. Through the thin, gauzy curtains that hung there, you could make out the blurry silhouette of the city in the distance. The lights twinkled like earthbound stars, their glow softened and diffused by the cloudy barrier between you and the outside world. It created an almost dreamlike atmosphere in the room, emphasizing the intimate bubble you two had created. It reminded you of home.

Still whirling from the events that led to this moment, your mind gradually began to quiet. Bucky appeared to be much more relaxed, no longer breathing heavy and shaking as terribly during his attack.

"You okay?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room cast a deep, night blue hue, partially dulling the angry red blotches that you knew still marred Bucky's face from your sight. Bucky’s sweet, rosy nose glistened from his recent emotional turmoil.

He turned his face fully into your chest, burrowing against you as he sniffled. Amusement colored your voice as you gently teased, "Are you wiping your snot on me?" Your tone remained cautiously gentle, not wanting to upset the fragile calm that had settled over him.

Bucky's response came muffled against your chest, a small chuckle that vibrated through you. His voice was barely audible and tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Maybe..." he admitted as he pulled back and finally looked you in the eye.

You rolled your eyes, casting a concerned glance back at him as you gently used your thumbs to caress his cheeks. The tender gesture was comforting for him. "Are you okay?" You repeated. You wanted—no, needed—to hear the truth directly from him, to gauge his emotional state beyond the façade he often presented.

Bucky instinctively leaned into your touch, finding solace in the warmth of your hands against his skin. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, almost involuntarily, as he drew in a deep, shaky breath. The contrast between your warm, caring touch and his own clammy cheeks made him shiver. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, to absorb the comfort you offered.

"Yeah... I'm..." Bucky started, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, reconsidering his words. "I'm fine." Another pause. "I mean, no, I'm not but... you know. I'm good." The contradiction in his statement was painfully apparent. He cleared his throat, as if trying to dislodge the emotions threatening to spill out verbally, and slowly opened his eyes again.

They met yours, a swirl of conflicting emotions evident in their depths. It was a typical answer from him, a reflexive response born from decades of forced conditioning and denial of feeling. You had expected it, of course, knowing his tendency to downplay his struggles, but that didn't make it any less concerning.

"Well, it's late. Maybe we should try to get some sleep?" Your lips softly kissed his forehead, tenderly giving him some affection. As you pulled back, you looked into his eyes and reassured him, "If you say you're alright, then I believe you. I trust your judgment, and I want you to know that I'm always here for you, whenever you feel ready to talk about it. There's no pressure, no rush. And in the meantime, I'm more than happy to simply be here, to be your comfort, your support... your pillow, if that's what you need."

"You're too good to me, doll... you really shouldn't have to deal with all this," he said softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. He rubbed his nose a little with the back of his hand, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "You've got more than enough on your plate already. Your own struggles, your own dreams to chase. You don't need my baggage weighing you down too."

"Hey, now. I won't hear any of that," you insisted, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. Your voice was firm but warm, you understood why he felt the way he did, but you didn’t like it. "I love you, sweetheart. That means I love every part of you - the good, the bad, and everything in between. Taking care of you, making sure you're okay... it's not some burden I'm shouldering. It's not something I'm just 'dealing with' because I have to."

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. "I'm here, by your side, because that's exactly where I want to be. Because you deserve love, support, and care. And because giving you those things brings me joy. It's as simple as that."

You squeezed his hand softly, your eyes meeting his with a look of pure, unconditional love. "So please, don't ever think you're too much or that you're burdening me. You're not. You're the person I choose, every single day. And I want to be here for you, through thick and thin."

"I love you too, doll... I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still avoiding your gaze, but you didn't mind. Vulnerability was difficult for him and you appreciated his honesty even in his discomfort.

"Let's get comfortable, we need to rest for whatever shit is going on tomorrow," you said softly, your voice filled with care and concern, yet a small bite for this ridiculousness of the mission. You were still annoyed you and Bucky had been dragged into this mess.

You began to shuffle the comforter and blankets on the floor, creating a cozy nest beside the bed. Bucky's brow furrowed as he watched you meticulously prep the area, his eyes following your every move with curiosity and confusion.

"You're not planning on sleeping on the floor with me, are you?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief as he observed you fluffing the pillows to ensure maximum comfort. The idea seemed to both perplex and touch him deeply. You had before, of course, at home. But he always insisted you go back to bed after his nightmares died down and he could fall asleep on his own. He didn't like the idea of you sleeping on the hardwood floors with him at night, especially when you could have the bed all to yourself.

"Of course I am," you replied without hesitation, your voice firm but gentle. "You think I'm gonna just let you sleep by yourself after this? Nope, that's not happening. I'm gonna be right by your side, supporting you through this. That's a promise, Bucky, and I intend to keep it." Your words were filled with determination and unwavering loyalty, leaving no room for doubt about your commitment to him.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, fully aware that you wouldn't budge from your decision, despite the presence of a perfectly comfortable bed in the room. You'd pick sleeping on the floor with him over the warmth and softness of the bed any day. Bucky inched closer and settled into the makeshift sleeping area you had prepared.

Once situated, he gently pulled you towards him, enveloping you in a tender embrace. No words were exchanged, but he carefully repositioned himself, shuffling down slightly to rest his head against your chest, seeking comfort in your presence.

He wanted to be held tonight, and that was perfectly fine with you.

Thank you for reading. -em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[unacknowledgeable]

SK!Reader x Yan!Batfam: Not in the plan

I have thoughts about the batfam going yandere before finding out about Reader being a serial killer.

Because if the fam go yandere before finding out, this gives them time to formulate their own perceptions of the reader, based on their limited knowledge of them and a lot of wistful thinking, so there's now an illusion built that can be shattered. 

It’d definitely be a slower roll into being yanderes, because they view the Reader as a full civilian and obviously don’t want to scare them off. They only really have the media's view of the Reader, and Alfred's view to make assumptions off of, which both are pretty biased tbh.

 They end up forming this version of Reader that is quiet but charming, social but reserved, irritable but kind, meek but shrewd, etc etc.

So they start off slowly, with little things, like Tim bumping into them on the street then offering to buy coffee, running into Steph while buying groceries, Jason waving at them from across a clubs dance floor, Bruce cutting in during their chat with Gordon at a Gala, getting “leftovers” from Barbara whenever she brings her dad lunch at the station, being asked for your math notes by Duke, Cass having Alfred give you tickets to her dance recitals, Damian entering rooms you’re in without making a snide comment, Dick inviting you to family game night–

The list of tiny ways they try to insert themselves is endless and every new acknowledgement from the family leaves the Reader fucking terrified.

Reader stares, bug eyed, at Tim for his offer, falls into a shelf at Steph's excited hello, downs a shot before running to the the club's bathroom to climb out the window when Jason tries to approach your seat at the bar, tripping a waiter to distract Bruce while you ditched the Gala, nearly back handing Barbara because you were listening to music and you didn't hear her come in, asking Duke ‘what math notes?’ ...while studying said notes, saying ‘no, you couldn't make the recital because you had to water a friends dog that day’ before quickly leaving the kitchen, throwing a book at Damian when he moved to close because the only times he’s ever been this quiet around you is when you're inevitably stabbed, or flinching so hard when Dick reaches out a hand to clap your shoulder, he thinks he somehow actually hurt you and the look of fear in your eyes gives off such a startling sense of deja vu, it leaves him despondent for the rest of the week.

 So now the batfam are thinking “Why the fuck are they panicking so much? oh god did we seriously fuck up so badly they're afraid of us?!?!?! DD: Why are they so uneasy??? It can’t just be because they’re estranged from them. Can it??” And now they're getting increasingly desperate to fix this because this wasn't supposed to be so difficult, but now it is and that's making it more intriguing and thus higher on the family’s list of priorities. 

Meanwhile… from the start, the Reader is just-

Because despite outward appearances, Reader is constantly paranoid as fuck. We’re talking Batman levels of paranoia. Hard not to be when he’s literally your dad. You have contingencies for your contingencies, escape routes by the dozen out of the city and out of this mortal plane itself, if needed. You had plans for every conceivable possibility, just not for this. 

You're now met with such a glaringly obvious flaw in how you go about life in general, the way you live and how you operate as a serial killer, it all hinges on the idea of the family never turning their attention your way. It wasn't even an option and now it’s happening and you had no idea how to function because this isn't normal at all. Now you're actually forced to put in more than 25% of brain power to bury any possible leads and dissuade any possible connections to yourself and the silent terror on Gotham, while also trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Safe to say, this cat and mouse game is no longer fun for you.

I'm meltingggg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'm going to bed bleh

X-X

Masterlist

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

rafe can’t handle it when you cry. he’s a problem solver at heart, and if something is bothering you, in his eyes it’s his responsibility to fix it. he was on a business call when you burst through the front doors of tannyhill, cheeks already stained with tears as your kitten heels click through the house. “rafe?” you call, sniffling and desperate to find him.

he hears you, attention shifting from his meeting to you. rafe is used to your dramatics, but something about your tone sets off alarm bells in his head. he gets up from his desk, cutting off the investor on the other line. “hey — hey man, i hate to do this to you, but could you just give me one second? somethin’ just came up.” he puts the call on hold and shoves his phone in his pocket before they can protest, and just in time for you to walk through his office doors. you’re a mess, shivering with mascara running wildly down your flushed cheeks. rafe’s forehead creases in concern, rushing around his desk to meet you where you’re standing so you can throw yourself into his arms.

“woah — woah, baby. breathe for me, alright?” rafe’s voice is soft but demanding, and he pulls away when you don’t respond, placing his warm hands on your upper arms to steady you. “hey — tell me what’s goin’ on.”

you suck in a few shaky breaths, whining and pawing at your eyes. you’re already so upset, and trying to condense your frustration into any sort of coherent answer has you even more overwhelmed. you just shake your head, more tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t know! everything is going wrong.”

“okay, listen to me. you have to breathe.” he leans down to your level, commanding more of your attention as he brings one hand to wipe your tears. rafe knows you’re a sensitive girl, sweet and delicate — it’s one of the things he likes the most about you. as much as he hates seeing you upset, he does love being your knight in shining armor. “what do you mean going wrong? what’s going wrong, princess?”

you finally take a deep breath, wet eyelashes fluttering. it really is everything. you offered to plan a surprise birthday party for one of your friends at the country club, but now that you also have to start organizing your plans for midsummers, you don’t know when you’re going to organize it — and soon enough, tourist season is going to make work at the golf club impossible. the icing on top is that rafe has been busy all day, barely even texting you between meetings, and you really missed him.

all of it comes out in a jumbled string of sobs until you finish with a deep sigh, lip still wobbling as your watery puppy-dog eyes bore into his. “alright.” rafe starts, letting go of you now that you’ve settled a little. “tell you what, i’ll help you out with the shit for midsummers. we can head out to the mainland tomorrow and get you a nice dress, yeah?” he pauses to make sure you’re following, and you nod with a sniffle — already feeling a little better with a promised shopping trip. “and, baby — i know you can handle a little party planning. n’if you need me to, i got no problem pulling a few strings to get you a nice reservation, okay, but for now — you’ve gotta relax. go take a nice bath and wait for me, alright? i have to take this.” rafe pulls his phone from his pocket again, the screen lighting up with the call still on hold. he brings his free hand up to wipe your remaining tears, followed by a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead. “you’re alright, princess — i’ll be right there.”

the whole ordeal has your head spinning, one second you’re flying off the handle with anxiety and now you feel light as a feather. but that’s why you came to tannyhill in the first place, knowing rafe would know just what to do to fix your terrible mood.

˚❀˚

[nemesyaaa]

now, we're free (gladiator au) // gladiator!rafe x daughter of the empreror!reader

summary ; you were much superior to him, the daughter of the emperor and the future of rome. you could have him killed just for a glance or a touch, but it felt like everytime you were with him, rafe was the one to holds the power. when fire met gasoline...

tropes/genre ; forbidden relationship. tragedy. good person, wrong time. bodyguard dynamic. slight of ennemies to lovers to etablished relationship. royalty/roman empire. bittersweet fluff.

warnings ; violence, war mention, blood, little age gap, angst, tension, death. suggestive content (not smut.). men are trash. abuse of power. corruption. minors dni.

author's note ; i think it's obvious that i watched Gladiator ii and i'm just obssessed with the whole movie.

— as a child of the Roman empire, Rome was your home but also the name of your tragedy.

the story began when rafe was assigned to your protection. it was obvious that the mission didn't delight him but it was the emperor's order and he could not contest it. he found it terribly humiliating for a soldier of his rank to be under the rule of a spoiled little princess like you. he had no desire to be your nanny or the victim of your whims. you already had a thousand servants for this.

SO this is why you weren't meant to love him. you were out of his league and much superior to him. you were literally the princess of an empire, what could it offer you that was better than what you already had? and despite his charming face, you weren't really attracted by his nonchalance and coldness, especially knowing that it was only reserved for you. with the others, he seemed more human. but with you, it was just a machine following orders.

because of that, you started provoking him on purpose, spreading chaos wherever you went only to see him running after you. if only you knew how mad you made him every time he's forced to apologize or take the blame for you, how miserable he felt when you push him on his knees just to tie one of your shoes or just for the pleasure of seeing him under your feets. he was so sick of you that he was holding himself everytime you call him to not killing you.

you were smart. damn, he hated knowing that there was a brain in your head that was giving you all these stupid ideas that were driving him crazy, that forced him to constantly follow your ass like a raging dog.

but one day, it was enough for him.

he was just tired of you treating him like a slave. you were perhaps the princess but you needed correction, to have a minimum of discipline. your education had to be redone and he was going to take care of it.

and the night you tried to escape from your room had been the perfect opportunity. you opened the door silently and so naively while rafe was waiting for you right here.

because he was your bodyguard for over years, he started to obviously know you because he was someone very observant. he didn't talk too much, answering the least possible, staying quiet behind you even when you were yapping for more than hours. he was watching you from behind, listening to you in silence. you will be surprised by how far he knows you, how he can predict every one of your moves.

“where do you think you're going? ”

“i'm going to the toilet. can i ? ” you replied sarcastically.

“now, you're lying to me. ” his voice raising through his gritted teeth.

“leave me alone. i need to go. ”

“oh no, i don't think so. you're not going anywhere with that sick annoying attitude with me. you know what i think? ”

“ do i need to pretend that i care ? ”

“ you're too much of a spoiled princess. no one dares to stand in front of you, to tell you no so guess i'm gonna be the first. " his scary blue gaze was fixed on you, literally judging you with all the hatred he had for you, making you feel even more little than you already were.

“you just said it, i'm the princess. you have no power against me. you're not allowed to speak to me like that. "

“there is no one there so i'm your only ruler. it means that i'm gonna do whatever i want. so go back to your bed. "

It was a bit insulting that he saw you only as a spoiled brat. and you then frowned, placing your arms on your chest contemptuously.

"what is that look? Or you hating me princess, or you just don't like the truth ? "

“fuc’ yourself.”

you tried to close the door but he blocked it with his arm. “ is that all you've got, princess ? so disapointed. ”

he was so much stronger than you as much as he was taller, towering over you with all his height. “ you're the only one who needs to be fucked. don't be happy about it, i'm not gonna be the one.”

“ sure. you're so afraid to be killed by my dad after taking my virginity. loser. ”

the smirk on his face was brighter. he entered your room before closing the door. as he walked, you were forced to step back until reaching your bed and falling into your sheets.

“ don't ask me for things you're gonna cry later. you're not that brave, princess. ”

“ why do you hate me so much ? ”

“ can't i ? if it was not for your dad, i will not be there. ”

his words were mean. they were like bullets. and you tried so hard to not be affected by them, to not let him see your emotions through the sparkles of your gaze.

“ but you're. i don't care how much it is against your will because you belong to me. you can hate me with all your guts but it's only a torture for you. because while i rule my world, you're forced to be there, to be by my side anytime, to focus on me, to watch me all day, to follow my orders. so if you want to be hard on me, i'm gonna be harder. ”

he laughed through his breath. he took his sword on his hands and swayed the blade just in front of your throat. “ i can kill you, princess. look at you…you're shivering when i'm all ready to cut your flesh. do you know what that means ? that you should be kinder to me because i'm tired and sick of your attitude. ”

“ you're my bodyguard. aren’t you supposed to protect me ? you really suck. ”

“ i'm gonna treat you well when you're begin to show me respect. ”

“ you're the only one who needs to show me respect. i'm your superior. ”

“ really ? but you see, when i'm looking at you princess...i see nothing superior. ”

you were so frustrated. but he was right, you were too spoiled to accept that someone doesn't follow your will. your eyes were glossy because of the upcoming tears, and your sensitive side.

“ playing the victim doesn't work with me. you were not that nice when you made my life a living hell. ”

“ i'm gonna report everything to my dad. and you'll be executed. ”

“ that's your will ? ” he said, leaning over you. you turned your face away, unable to looking at him but he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to keep your eyes inside his. “ i said. that's your will. answer me. i know damn well how that annoying mouth of yours can speak. ”

“ don't touch me. ”

“ you were this pathetic before i've even touched you. don't put the blame on me, your honor. ”

since that day, the tension between rafe and you has been high. you hated him but at the same time, you were so attracted to him. and the fact he was your bodyguard didn't help anything with your feelings. because he was always with you, you can't forget about him for a day which was pretty annoying.

rafe was also torn about you. because at the same time, he wanted you to die but also a part of him wanted you so badly. he was clearly ruining his life the way you made him feel.

one day, you felt sick and he didn't hear from you. and he was surprised to miss you. but what wasn't more surprising is that he took care of you during all your days in bed, letting your servants rest. “ you can do nothing without me, can’t you ? ”

and your long term relationship just started after he kissed you in your healing days. but at the same moment, your father sent him to join the new conquest.

your heart felt so heavy, beating in your ribcage like a drum. the war was over and rafe was on his way back home. he was coming back today with the whole army but you were still worried about the state in which you were going to find him. you were never sure about how he would come back to you. you were one of those desperate women who waited without messages, without letters whose hope was nourished by faith and conviction.

rafe was far from a weak man. he had all the rage and necessary strength that Rome expected from him. he was one of the best soldiers in the empire, one of the most valuable fighters and he surely had a promising future in the military career.

you were always afraid for him because the world was cruel and merciless, death spared neither gods nor mortals. at night, you couldn't close your eyes. you could never sleep properly since he left. you only had the smell of his clothes to comfort you, the memory of his voice and these words in your mind, the furtive reminder of his gestures swept away so quickly by a return to reality. you were in this unbearable and sad atmosphere which was called waiting and disarray.

your man always came home bigger to you. the war turned him into a beast. he was pretty huge and his muscles were fat, glistening from sweat and dirt. and you couldn't wait to be in his arms again.

before leaving that time, he had given you a priceless necklace. and since then, you wore it around your neck every day.

it was quite ironic. you the wife of no one, you the woman born with the title of princess, you the woman destined to rule an empire, you fell in love with a man of a rank clearly below yours. you knew that these feelings towards rafe were forbidden to you, that this love was doomed to failure, that only the suffering and the darkness of this union would remain. but you couldn't fight it every time you saw him. you were unable to resist the man who constantly haunted your thoughts.

“Princess, you are beautiful.” commented one of your many servants as she finished your tangled braid which she had punctuated with flowers and pretty jasmine scent.

you smelled good. you were coming back from a divine bath filled with body oils, and you were wearing one of your mother's wonderful dresses. you were her portrait. your father loved to tell you that. and it always made you happy because you never really knew her.

you had grown up in a man's world, ruled by men. even if there were all these gods and these offerings, it was to men that the real power here on earth belonged. but they were all corrupt, all deceptive and arrogant.

your father had burst into your room, a smile lighting up his face as he discovered you so pretty, covered in the thousand and one graces offered by royalty. you were the true treasure of Rome in his eyes.

“look at you, the most beautiful of all.” he began as he approached, a hand on your shoulder.

he coughed before clearing his throat. you quickly understood that he had something important to tell you.

"you know, I'm starting to get old. I have to think about a future governor...I can't abandon Rome without a successor. ."

“Give me the throne, Dad. I deserve it. Doesn’t it belong to me as your sole heir?”

"I know, I know. but my daughter...you know very well that women do not govern."

“but aren’t you the one who decides? you can change that.”

" Enough, I have chosen my successor and it will be the general. he more than anyone deserves this title for his loyal services to the empire and his honors. you should listen to me because I am talking about your future husband. "

your eyebrows arched furiously above your eyes. you took this decision as a betrayal, a total indifference. your father's negligence was one of your worst enemies. you hated his coldness so much.

"but father…”

you didn't like this general. your heart was sealed for another. for rafe. you had given it to him the day he had proven himself to deserve it. at first, you thought he was like the others, that he hoped to obtain royalty by dating you, but he had always been disinterested in your princess side, and the noble blood that flowed in your veins.

“speak your mind, your grace. don't let me with that look of you. you know, i can't fight those pretty eyes. "

“why me? you can choose so many women, so why am I the one you want?”

you had seen his irritable smirk at the corner of his lips. he was positioned above you, and you could feel the warmth of his breath pressing lightly on your hair.

“you want to see me with someone else? Are these your orders, princess? if it is your will..."

"It's not my will...I'm just being realistic. How do you plan to get my father to accept this relationship? You'll be killed before you can even talk to him."

"you think I can't be as dangerous as him? Who kills these men on the battlefield, who returns with his hands covered in blood, who sacrifices himself for the Glory of your father ? I made him a glorious emperor so I would have the princess, the happiest of women.”

you sighed with heavy chuckles. your eyes were locked in his. he had your hands between his fingers that were covered with bruises. his touch was so gentle for someone who kills and fights almost everyday. he couldn't hurt you, even if it was the will of gods.

“ rafe. i have a question for you. ”

“ say it. because it would be your last words before i kidnap you for the rest of the night. ”

“ promise me to always return to me. do you understand, rafe cameron ? you can't die. you can't die without my consent. you're mine, you're my soldier. ”

“ are you crying ? ”

“ answer your princess. ”

your eyes were full of tears, your voice cracking. your loyal protector stood up and placed his lips on yours.

you could feel how sincere he was with you and that was what killed you the most. your heart was in panic but you preferred to ignore the signals.

could we condemn you for wanting to be happy?

when the army returned, you were at the gates of the palace with your father surrounded by the senate and the royal guards. everyone was there, the crowd was so loud that the orchestra was lost in the cheers. you didn't want to appear too emotional but you could almost cry from the feeling that overwhelmed you when you finally saw your lover's face.

he was so radiant under the burning sun of Rome, in this armor of glory which made him much prestigious. he still had wounds from the wars but you were eager to nurse and heal them later. his face was coating with dirt and bruises, bleeding cut on his cheekbone, a bit of a crooked nose and his hands were filled with dried blood. his pecs were bulging and hard against his top. his look was wild and broken, the blue of his pupils piercing you through the crowd. you felt the heat stronger in your skin when his glare scanned you from toes to head. he spat a stream of blood out of his mouth to the ground before smiling at you with red lips hovering his bloody teeths. you didn’t take your eyes off him. It was probably the only thing you saw.

while your father praised the main hero, the general and your future predestined husband, you smiled brightly to Rafe.

“ come greet the general. ” your father said, and forcing you to face the situation.

“ princess. " the old man took your hand gently, putting a kiss on it before making a step back to respect the distance between you and him.

“ general. i'm happy to see you alive. "

" and i'm happy to see you again. you're always so beautiful. "

jealousy was a very cruel feeling which currently exploited all the members, and all the energy of rafe. he couldn't stand seeing you with someone else, he couldn't stand looking at that smile on your lips when you were talking to someone else. he loved that dress, but he hated the effect it had on this man. you were his. and if he agreed to be your secret, he nevertheless refused to share you. he was so conflicted that he tightened his grip on his sword. fortunately his sword was strongly attached in his sheath because otherwise it would slash this general's throat.

the blood pressure increased by anger had caused the veins on his hands and forehead to throb. he took two steps closer, before stepping back when he saw your warned look.

no, you didn't want him to do that. he had fallen back into his place, pressured by your anxious face. his lips were pursed, his teeth lightly biting his mouth. the blue of his eyes were scary, as his jaw muscle was tightened.

you then decided to slip away to the banquet. you didn't like these parties and big ceremonies. it was always so pathetic. you had joined rafe in your private garden out of sight.

the first thing he did when he saw you running towards him in your long dress flying in the wind was to pick you up from the ground to kiss you. “ there she is…” it was so good to see you again. rafe loved your taste, the way your lips swollen under the weight of his, the little wet moans of your mouth brushed by the slap of his tongue against yours.

if it was such a sin, why did you feel like you were in heaven?

his lips were rough and rebellious, slightly damaged but terribly addictive.

you hated that feeling of doing something wrong, when you were right by his side.

when he put you back on the ground, you were nervous. your fingers touched each other in frustration. It was hard having to tell the one you loved that there was a man who was going to marry you. it was as hard as looking into his eyes at that moment.

and then the sores on his face, he had already suffered.

“I have to tell you something…” you started.

he had only listened, with a vague response, waiting for you to speak your mind.

"I'm going to marry the general. My father decided it."

“what?” he spat. “what did you say? ”

he wasn't mad at you, but he wasn't feeling well. it was inconceivable to him. just the thought was fatal to the soldier.

"you heard...I don't like this man at all but I can't go against my father."

“but I do.”

“rafe. be serious.”

"i am. . i fucking am. so don't rafe me."

“don’t raise your voice at me. ”

“don’t ask me to stay calm!” he screamed back. “because this is not going to happen. "

“I’m your princess!”

"you're sure? because you just told me the contrary."

you tried to raise your hands to shut him off with a slap but he grabbed your palm before you could even touch him.

“where are your manners, princess?” he mocked. “ slapping your guard ? isn't it an abuse of power ? i thought i disciplined you. ”

“you know that’s not what I want!” you defended yourself by retorting violently.

he rolled his eyes, taking a step back as if you had broken something in him and he no longer had the patience to listen to you. to tell the truth, he was already tired and you came with a new problem.

“How do I know when I’m the only one fighting?”

" Excuse me ? "

"it's so easy for you. you're a spoiled little princess, you never need to do anything. you order, and you get everything on a silver platter. you never need to fight .even when you want someone.”

"you accuse me of a life that I never chose? You are unfair to me when I always choose you. I never fought, right ?what do you do with all these suitors that I pushed away for you, of these days that I spent waiting for you, of all these jewels that you gave me and that I wore, what do you do with my feelings ?what do you do with all that? All the things i've do for you? So this is what I am to you? This spoiled girl who uses you? Why would I do this? Give me one good reason to do this to you.”

he had his back turned to you, and your voice was weakened by emotions. you weren't well, your stomach was upset. and rafe spiraled. he didn't even look at you.

“How should I prove my loyalty to you?”

“ I know Rome is your home but we should run away. "

"you know I will be found. and you will be executed. you can't run away with someone like me."

"It's your choice. You can stay here and live your whole life with a man you don't love, or leave with me and be happy.”

“ You know, I can't leave ! I can't Rafe, I promise i can't. ”

“ Bullshit. ”

His words hung in the air for a long minute, before you back hugged him, your cold hands on his strong warm chest.

Your effect on him was still working because he was unable to pull you away. He was tense under your touch but not against, just frustrated.

He was always so weak with you. You were just a woman but every time you were around, it was like the best moment of his life.

“ I'm just afraid. ” you admitted. “ and you should too. because someone's gonna lose this fight. ”

“ I can't die without your consent. Do you remember ? ”

“ Will you also stop going to war for me ? I'm begging you. ”

“ So you know how to beg princess ? Interesting. ”

“ Surprised ? I've just learned from the man who always begged me. ” you teased in a playful tone.

“ The General was right. You're very pretty in that dress…”

“ I was wondering when you're gonna tell me. It was very long without you. I've had hard times in your absence because i was just thinking of you all day. ”

“ And now i'm back. You're really thinking of me all day ? ” He asked, pulling you closer to him, before sliding a hand down your tummy, making her way between your thighs. “ even there ? Yea, i can feel it, princess. You really missed me don't you ?”

“ We're in public. ”

“ Yea ? Should put them a show then. ”

Last night, you slept well. Maybe because you felt less alone now that Rafe was home. Everything seemed more comfortable, your blankets warmer, your pillows softer.

While you expected to see one of your servants when the door to your room opened, you were surprised to find that it was several guards.

“The emperor asks for you, your grace. " the commander had declared. "You'd better get dressed. "

“Give me a few minutes.”

Naive and carefree that you were, you didn't see the harm in this request even if it seemed strange to you. You just hoped it wasn't just about your future union with the general.

Quickly, you put on a decent outfit and followed the guards to the throne room.

Your world had collapsed when you discovered Rafe chained at the wrists and feet surrounded by guards like a prisoner.

“rafe!” your voice cracked both in your throat and the large room. you ran towards him but were held back by two soldiers.

what had to happen happened. no one escaped their fate. everyone was forced to endure it. your cheeks were covered in tears as you fell to your knees.

you only had to look at your lover for a few seconds to hear each fragment of your heart crystallize before exploding into pieces in your chest. the pain was heavy, a sharp and stabbing torture like a dagger plunged into the vital organ. you could barely breathe. the vision of his bruised face stuck in your mind. but above all this distressed look.

you were guilty. you had been unable to protect him, unable to save him. you had been helpless. and you felt selfish.

" enough ! " your father had proclaimed.

“leave him, dad. I beg you...take my life, not his. " you replied.

“it is not me who will decide his fate, nor you, my dear child. but Rome. "

" No ! No ! not the arena. everything but not that. "

your father’s smile was sadistic, so imperial in the face of your tears.

you had never felt so much hatred towards him as in that very moment.

“ You disrespected me by playing around with one of my soldat, you humiliated me ! But maybe it's my fault. I let you have too much freedom. But now, it's over. I'm gonna punish you and you will perhaps learn. You're gonna marry the general right after the death of your boyfriend. and remember, you can hate me with all your guts, don't forget that you're the one who chose his faith by sneaking around with him. ”

“ I love him, dad ! He's the only Man i want. ”

“ Instead of making your apologies, you're still defending him. Don't forget who you are. You're maybe my daughter but I will not hesitate to kill you. But if i do this, you're gonna be happy to join your lover and happiness…is something i can't no longer give you. ”

Rafe's jaw was tight. he had already struggled so much since his arrest. his muscles were tired. and anyway, he was now a captive. the chains were too heavy.

he was also suffering from his new injuries. his rage was gradual and intensive, his breathing was ragged, completely in rhythm with the movement of his arched mouth. blood was streaming down part of his lip down to his chin. there was so much anger in his system that the fat of his muscles were vibrating.

his eyes were distorted with hatred and pain. his blood vessels were dilated and red. With the chaos in his head, all his inner voices arguing within them, he was about to explode.

he knew the arena. everyone knew this place. it was the favorite spectacle of emperors, where gladiators faced each other to the death. life was rarely granted. it was a massacre consented to by the people, governed by freaks.

Most of the time, gladiators were war slaves, criminals, traitors. they were rarely people of high rank.

At nightfall, you waited until it was dark and there was no one left in the palace to leave your room discreetly and reach the cellar of the arena where the future gladiators were. you were trembling, scared and out of breath. you almost fell down the spiral stairs due to the narrowness of the place. you had negotiated with the night guard for a moment with rafe. he had given you a few minutes.

“rafe” you whispered as he stood up at the sound of the door.

“I’m terribly sorry.” you said. “It’s all my fault.”

you got closer. his face was damaged. he shook his head.

“I'm going to kill them all tomorrow,” he declared. “absolutely all.”

“you can’t kill them all.”

“I can.”

"I don't want you to die. I can't watch this.”

you had retrieved a tissue from under your cloak, and applied it to the glooming bruises. he grimaced slightly and you smiled. “does it hurt? ”

“i can handle this. ”

“ i'm so afraid. my father wants you dead. ”

“ he forgets who I am. i'm one of his best soldiers, none of his gladiators can't beat me. so look at me, i'm not gonna die. better than that, i'm not gonna leave you alone.”

“ i really don't want to marry this guy. ”

“ baby, you're not gonna marry anyone but me. ” ignoring the pain that came from his injuries, he pulled you on his lap, before kissing you so desperately that his mouth was literally devouring you, his tongue tearing your lips apart.

when the time presented itself, you were forced to follow your father to the royal balcony located in the arena, the one which gave a view of the entire expanse of the place. all of Rome was there. you would have hoped for pity, compassion, mercy but there was none of those. all the cries roared in the crowd, from the stands to the streets.

you were handcuffed to your chair, treated like a prisoner. your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest like a malfunctioning machine. you hated the position you were in. you weren't one of those people who loved to fight to the death. it was brutal, gory and pathetic. no one deserved this.

“ everything's okay ? ” the general asked.

“ i don't want to watch it. i just don't want this. ”

“ you should think of this before putting yourself in this situation. ” cutted your father, before addressing himself to his people.

he was so high, so glorified in society. but this man was evil and sick, a cruel emperor who loved to see people suffer.

in the shadows of the wings, where the warriors waited behind a great iron wall, rafe was prepared. he wasn't going to lose. Above all, he saw himself incapable of losing you. he had to fight for his honor but yours too. he was angry with your father as he never was so angry with his own.

the soldier had never had a break in his life. always pushed to his limits, always pushing to surpass himself. he was the eldest of his family, the one who had no right to make mistakes, the one who had to guard his weaknesses, the one who had to grow up more alone than the others. his father had always been hard on him, in his upbringing and with his feelings. sometimes, rafe agreed to talk to you about his mother and it was in these moments that you most often saw him smile. there were few women who had mattered to him. but now you were the only one.

the orchestra had resounded throughout the assembly, dominating all external noises. the games were about to begin for the pleasure of the spectators. your mouth was pursed, your heart was on the edge of your lips and the feeling of being on the door of the abyss. you would have rather been killed than witness the death of your lover.

when you saw him enter the arena, you tried to appear neutral because he seemed calm.

he always looked so magnificent in his armor. his hair was swept by the wind, a few strands flying over his forehead while dust covered his sun-kissed face, hands turned into fists.. because of the heat, he was already sweating. your hands trembled under the handcuffs as you watched him walk over the sand that must surely burn his feets.

you prayed. you prayed for him. you asked the gods for forgiveness and clemency. you prayed like you had never done before. “ save him. ” you whispered to yourself, collecting your tears in your prayers.

your eyes were opened against your will. it was extremely violent from the start. It had only been a few minutes since corpses were already on the ground, blood was spurting from falling bodies. you would like to care about everyone's fate but you only thought about rafe. you had your gaze glued to him, following every of his movements. you were unlike him, defeated and desperate.

however, he was well ahead of this battle. there was a sick rage within him, and an intense desire to win. a lot of throats have been slashed merciless under his sword. his head was empty, and every of his blasted punches was literally dead strokes. if people from the tribunes wanted a show, he was willing to give them. his charming face was hidden by some dripping blood that was running down from his mouth full of it.

he was no longer human for the moment, just a war dog who beat every one of his adversaries. all of his muscles were pushed hard to fight. his shield was pressed against his chest, and his movements focused on the action. he had been beaten many times but not defeated. he received several punches to the face and sword blows to the body but that did not stop him from continuing. as he fought, strong and fearsome, you began to be cooler. the crowd standed quickly by him.

there were around fifteen people left in the area. the best fighters. you seemed relaxed but you were still stressed because fate rarely announced a good fate to heroes. you were afraid of losing the only person you loved, you didn't want to and you weren't prepared for it. you were already suffering at the idea of seeing rafe's corpse plunge heavily into the dusty sand of the Colosseum. your body was under the influence of your bad thoughts. your tears were bitter and salty.

you watched your lover fight through the gladiators under the clanging of swords, the clash of blades. he had a good attack and a powerful shot. it was supposed to survive. he could do it. he had to do it.

he had no right to abandon you. no right to die without your consent.

the hardest part was not being able to move, being condemned to witness his fall.

you knew your father was a cruel man. he was not the emperor of Rome for nothing. He had killed innocent people, reduced people to slavery, and torn families apart. But you didn't think that one day you would be one of his victims, that you would be the target of one of his sadistic games.

sometimes he would turn his head to look at you and revel in your decaying face. to the point you believe that he wanted your death more than Rafe's.

when only him and one other remained in the arena. the finale was announced by the violent sound of trumpets. now the entire population was hanging in this fight. men were leaning over the boxes to better observe the battle.

the assault had been rapid and violent but above all gory. there was blood and sparkles dripping under a clash of sword attack. rafe had managed to gain the advantage, pushing his opponent to the ground. the victim had succeeded to dodge his blade several times before it was furiously stabbed into his leg.

you closed one eye, making a grimace. the man ended up getting up, retrieving his sword to resume the duel. he had taken his revenge. he now had the upper hand over rafe, and the massacre continued.

except this time it was even more painful because rafe was staggering and unsteady, his face was badly beaten, and the blood was rushing from his opened fleshwounds.

you wanted to scream but it was impossible. nothing came. nor your voice. nor your words. you were stuck in an uncomfortable silence.

you thought about how you could have hated him so much in the past and now he was all that mattered to you. you wanted to go back in time, find this machine that granted wishes, ask the god for forgiveness for not having been faithful enough to them. you wanted to go back to when you and Rafe were still innocent of the fate that awaited you.

you wanted to return to the comfort of the past. the present was unbearable.

the man's body fell to the ground with a big bounce. his corpse had caused the crowd to vibrate with a festive howl. cries were heard from all sides but the time had come to give a fate to the winner. they could save his life or kill him.

your father stood up, silencing the crowd with a wave of his hand. his look was sick. he had placed his thumb vertically, up and down. but before he could even finish, the body of Rafe fell to the ground. you heard his voice raising in a painful growl, as he closed his eyes just under your gaze.

you screamed, the most longest and hurtful rome has ever heard in her life. strangely, the emperor let the guards break your chains and you ran away to the arena. you didn't Care about how much people watched you, you just wanted to check your lover’s health.

“ don't leave me. don't you dare leave me. you have no right leaving me. Do you hear me ? you can't leave me. it's a promise, don't you remember ? ” you shouted, shaking his body against your hands. your voice was broken and your tears were bleeding in your face. “ i'm gonna hate you forever if you leave me. forever…i'm sorry, really, i'm sorry…”

no one lifted a single finger, not even a single move. they were just watching you falling into madness from the loss of your boyfriend. he was still breathing but his eyes were closed.

“ it's an order from your princess. stay alive… where did you go, my bodyguard ? where did you go ? tell me and i will make you come back. i can't lose you. i-i love you, okay ? isn't you supposed to be waking up now ? ”

“ you didn't change at all, a bit of a crybaby when i'm not around. ” he joked slightly through the pain of his wounds.

“ are you dead ? i mean, are you okay ? ”

“ i can't promise you anything. ”

“ does he will kill you if i'm kissing you right now ? ”

“ still planning to kill me even after all those years ? ”

“ rafe. i'm very worried…I want to go back to the beginning. take me back to the start. it's an order. ”

his hand weakened in yours, falling from your grip.

but it can't be over. not like that.

“ rafe…rafe….rafe. answer me. rafe ? answ… me…could you fight for me...just one last time...”

[prettypinkporkchop]

Paul lahote x female reader

Chicken Bone

Kim has been helping Emily with the kitchen while you are outside gathering wood with Sam.

"UGH, Sam, I'm tired. Don't you think this is enough for a year?" You giggle and whipe sweat off of your forehead. He laughs at you, making you glare at him. "You can stop. I don't need Paul getting upset with me for overworking you." He puts his hands on his hips, smiling at you. You hum in response and take off the work gloves Sam gave you.

You walk inside to see Emily and Kim fixing up the plates for the boys. There is enough food to feed all of the reservation but you're used to being around the pack at this point.

"WOOO HOOO!" You hear hooting and hollering from multiple men. You knew it was your imprinter and his family. You smile, and Kim rushes next to you. "Y/n, I have been thinking about this the whole time! Me and Emily have a bet. If you were to take a chicken bone away from Paul, I say he chases you. Emily says he just lets you have it." She laughs.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arm into hers. "Well then, Emily! What do you say? Kim do this to Jared too?" You look at the beauty of a woman who is pouring tea into glasses. She smirks at you two. "I think Jared would play a pity party!" Emily giggles. "I say, Jared simply wouldn't care and just pick up another chicken." You bet with Emily. "Oh goodness. This will be fun." She sighs with a grin as the boys all pile in.

Paul steps in front of you with a wide and bright smile. "I've missed you, my princess." He kisses your lips. The butterflies kick in asyou kiss him back. He pulls away and pecks your cheek and then leaves a lingering and sweet kiss on your forehead. He steps away to sit at the table next to Embry. Jared and Quil have their own conversation. Jacob, Leah, and Seth are currently at Billy's house, cleaning up for him.

After everyone finishes up, the boys do their classic thing. The dog comes out and they have to chew on a bone. You find this so funny and cute! Kim makes eye contact with you. She winks at you, mouthing, 'you first.' As Paul is chewing on the bone and laughing at Embry, you quickly grab it out of his hand and step away from him.

"Hey!" He calls out with confusion on his face. You start giggling and begin chewing on it, too. He watches you with his eyebrows furrowed. "That.. was the best bone in the whole plate." He mumbles in sadness. He sighs and sits down to pout.

Kim grabs Jared's and stands next to you. "Hey!" He gets up and she runs as he chases after her outside.

Emily is cackling while tears form in her eyes. All the men look confused. Paul is just brooding.

"We had a bet. Nobody was right." She chokes out.

So, Kim guessed Paul would chase you, but in fact, Jared chased her. And you guessed that Jared would let her have it, but he chased her! Unexpectedly, the pouts came from the hard ass, Paul Lahote.

Feeling bad, you stand behind Paul and hand him the bone. He grabs your wrist with a small amount of a grip. Not enough to hurt you but to be sure you don't move. "Y/n y/m/n, You pull this shit again, you won't be able to sit down." He growls before kissing your lips and then going back to the bone. You shiver and imagine what he is talking about.

Later that night, you get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you. You step out of the bathroom and into your bedroom that you share with Paul. He's lying on his back with his eyes closed. You drop the towel and began digging through your drawer.

Paul's pair of warm arms pulls you into his hard body. A surprised yelp escapes your lips. "Ya know," he begins and starts leaving sloppy and wet kisses over your shoulder and neck. "Watching you chew that bone that was just in my mouth was very hot." He groans and grips harder onto your waist.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Cute and Fluffy

Summary: The reader drops off a new patient for Dr. Winchester…

Pairing: vet!Dean x reader

Word Count: 700

Warnings: none

A/N: Enjoy!

_______________

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” said Dean, waving you back and into one of the examination rooms. “What have you brought me today, heroine to all things cute and fluffy?”

“This is Champ,” you said setting the carry on down on the table. “At least that’s what we’re calling him down there.”

You opened up the door and put a treat down right outside. A pink little tongue tentatively stuck out and licked it before curling it into it’s mouth. You put a few more down to try and get the little guy to come out on his own, slowly but surely getting the malnourished pup onto the table.

“Hi Champ,” said Dean, bending down to give the scared dog a smile. Dean didn’t reach out to pet him, knowing how some of the rescue animals were when they were new. “He a biter?”

“No, sweetest little thing,” you said, holding a treat in your hand, Champ eating out of it. “Definitely underweight. He was covered in mats and scabs so we had to shave him down.”

Dean looked over the poor guy, taking a treat from you and letting him eat out of his hand as well before he placed a gentle touch on him, patting him softly.

“Probably has an infection. We’ll run some blood work and see about fixing this guy up,” said Dean. “What do you say? Want to get better and find a nice family Champ?”

The dog didn’t do anything really but did lick Dean’s finger. Dean chuckled and picked him up, taking him into the back.

Two Weeks Later

It was about six on Friday night as you checked on the guys and gals one last time before handing off to the night manager. There weren’t that many in your care at the moment which was always a good thing. You always wanted your animals to find good homes and not be stuck in this place for too long.

“Lovely, Y/N, I brought you somebody,” you heard Dean call from the front desk. You smiled as you walked out there, watching him undo the carry cage and pull out a happy and healthy looking puppy.

“Aw Champ! You look so much better buddy!” you said, the dog wagging his tail and acting like he should again. Dean handed him over to you and you looked him over, knowing Dean was a miracle worker with how he got these guys feeling good again.

“Not as good looking as you,” said Dean. You laughed and waved him back with you as you found a nice spot for Champ for the night. Dean went and found some dinner for him and gave you the run down on his history. He’d barely finished eating before he was plopping down on his bed, snoring happily. “He’s so getting adopted tomorrow.”

“Thanks for volunteering to help out in the morning. I really appreciate it,” you said. Dean smiled and took hold of your hand.

“It’s no problem. I like spending time with you. Speaking of which, I kind of made reservations tonight and was wondering if you’d like to go with me?” he asked.

“Your date cancel on you?” you asked.

“Just asked her,” he said with a wink. “Still waiting to see if I’m going to have to go solo.”

“What time is the reservation?” you asked, giving all the creatures one last look over as you heard the night manager come in.

“Eight. Down at Erickson’s,” said Dean.

“Fancy,” you said, walking out with Dean right on your tail. 

“So...yes?” he asked, a sliver of doubt underneath his hope.

“See you in two hours Dean. I bet you look real good in a suit,” you said, walking over to your car.

“Not as good as you’ll look.”

___________

[geneviveleocardius]

john ‘soap’ mactavish and his way of loving you

my baby

soap’s kisses are always playful and teasing, but they carry so much warmth it’s almost overwhelming. he loves sneaking quick pecks when you least expect them—on your cheek, your jawline, even the tip of your nose. when he’s feeling more serious or vulnerable, his kisses are slow and lingering, lips brushing yours like he’s trying to memorize every moment.

physical touch is soap’s main way of showing love. he’s constantly touching you—whether it’s a hand on your lower back, his arm draped over your shoulders, or his fingers intertwined with yours. acts of service come in close second. he’ll go out of his way to make your life easier, from cooking your favorite meal to fixing things around the house, all with a cheeky grin.

soap is absolutely obsessed with your hands. he loves holding them, kissing your knuckles, or feeling your fingers comb through his hair. to him, your hands are a source of comfort, strength, and tenderness all rolled into one. he also has a secret fascination with your legs—he loves watching you move, whether it’s casually walking or dressed up for a night out.

soap’s a big fan of playful nicknames. “lass,” “love,” “bonnie,” and “darlin’” are all regulars in his vocabulary. he loves calling you by your first name when he’s being serious or romantic—it feels personal and intimate to him.

soap is endlessly in awe of you. he constantly tells you how beautiful, strong, or stunning you look, even when you’re just lounging in sweats. he’s not shy about his admiration, and he often teases you with exaggerated compliments just to see you roll your eyes, though he always means them.

he absolutely melts every time you call him “johnny.” it’s a name that feels intimate, like it’s reserved just for you, and it makes him feel grounded. every time you say it, he flashes that boyish grin of his, sometimes followed by a playful, “only for you, love.”

soap thinks about marrying you more than he’d ever admit out loud—at least, not right away. he’s already imagined how you’d look walking down the aisle, how he’d make sure to be the best husband you could ask for, and how proud he’d feel to call you his. he drops little hints here and there, like casually asking about your dream wedding or joking about practicing his vows.

soap talks about you constantly with his team, always with a proud smile and a twinkle in his eye. he’s not shy about showing how much he loves you, whether it’s recounting a funny story, mentioning how much he misses you, or boasting about your accomplishments.

when it comes to ghost, soap’s a bit more reserved but still can’t help himself. he’ll drop little comments like, “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, mate,” or “you should see her with the dog, simon—it’s unreal.” ghost pretends to be annoyed, but soap knows he’s secretly listening and even offers some rare, begrudging advice when soap’s feeling vulnerable about making you happy.

you will never know how much i hate makarov

[pforestsims]

I'm a fan of traits & trait mods and I really liked Atomtanned's mod /based on Dill's Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs/. This is quite an extensive edit - I just wanted to adjust it a little for my game and once I started I couldn't stop xD

Atomtanned's Trait-Based Chemistry EDIT

& (optional mod) ONLY TO Chemistry

⚡ Download: SFS ⚡BOX

11.11.2024 third UPDATE of Chemistry Mod. Fixed: Loner not triggering Introvert TO, Alien genetics trigger Alien TO correctly, Facial hair TO triggers correctly, Hats do not trigger Intellect TO, Cologne doesn't trigger Occult TO. Thanks for the fixes go to @episims . Correct file has "Update3" in the name

*Archive contains PDF file with detailed list of changes (added / removed stuff) and a few notes.

🟢 Trait-based Chemistry mod edit is available in 7 Languages: English, German, Finnish, Polish, Swedish, Russian, French

❕ New stuff: added Facial Hair TO (replaces Daydreamer), Business Shark TO (was: Serious), Expressive TO (was: Unique). Increased hobby and interest requirements from 5 to 8 pts, Formal wear added to Stylish TO - and more...

I also included an optional mod that switches off Zodiac / Aspiration chemistry and balances out the chemistry bolts gain - so it makes chemistry betwen Sims much less complicated. Obviously it will only be useful for those who like to control every aspect of their Sims romantic lives. Details under the cut.

You'll need Traits /and stuff required for these to work/.

Credits: @atomtanned , @lilbabydilljr , Epi for their TO replacements, @lazyduchess for Lua script

@peanuttysims for No Zodiac & Aspiration attraction (MTS2 link)

I used TS4 icons, icon mashups/ edits, and my own.

Thanks: @tvickiesims , @vegan-kaktus , @lilakartoffelbrei . Special thanks to @episims for all the support 💎🤗

*This is for The Sims 2

More under the cut:

Trait-based Chemistry mod

It will replace original TS2 turn-ons and turn-offs with entirely new ones (only hair colors and fitness/fatness are unchanged!).

It conflicts with NickM406's No More Loading the * Family mod , and Tunaisafish’s Attraction Fix, make sure you don't have tunaisafish_fix_attractiontraits package in your Downloads.

🟢 It's compatible with mods that change /or switch off Zodiac chemistry, Aspiration chemistry, or both.

⚡TURN-ONS / TURN-OFFS:

Note: I've added and removed some stuff, for example Plantsims and Bigfoot from 'Occult' TO, and Zombies from 'Undead' TO!

(This is an edit of the list posted by Atomtanned: )

Adventurous: 3 vacations, Adventurous, Daredevil, Sailor, Brave

Alien: Trait, skin, eyes

Animal Lover: 2 pet friends, Animal Lover, Cat Person, Dog Person, Equestrian

Artistic: Artistic, Avant Garde, Photographer's Eye, Savvy Sculptor, Flower Arranging/Pottery/Sewing silver badge, Arts & Crafts hobby, Creative skill

Athletic: Athletic, Equestrian, Loves to Swim, Sports/Fitness hobby, Body skill

Business shark: Born-salesperson, Ambitious, Mean Spirited, Snob, Workaholic

Charismatic (charisma): Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Charisma skill

Cultured (bookish): Avant Garde, Bookworm, Film & Literature Hobby

Expressive: Excitable, Childish, Party Animal, Dramatic, Over-Emotional, Diva

Facial hair

Fitness / Fatness - original

Foodie: Natural Cook, Cuisine hobby, Cooking skill

Hair colors - original

Indoorsy: Bookworm, Computer Whiz, Couch Potato, Hates the Outdoors, Film & Literature Hobby, Games Hobby

Infamous (bad reputation): Bad Reputation*, Evil, Mean-Spirited

Intellect (high IQ): Genius, Logic Skill

Introvert (reserved): Brooding, Loner, Unflirty, Shy, No sense of humor, Grumpy, Socially Awkward, < 2 Outgoing personality points

Laid Back (slacker): Couch Potato, Mooch, Slob, < 2 Active personality points

Musical: Natural Born Performer, Star Quality, Virtuoso, Music & Dance hobby

Occult (mystical): Werewolf, Witch, Fairy, Mermaid, Supernatural Fan

Outdoorsy: Angler, Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors, Sailor, Gardening badge, Fishing badge, Nature hobby

Outgoing (social): Irresistible, Flirty, Natural Born Performer, Party Animal, Social Butterfly, > 8 Outgoing personality points

Plant Lover: Eco-Friendly, Gatherer, Green Thumb, Vegetarian, Flower/Gardening badge, Plantsim, Fairy

Rebellious: Daredevil, Inappropriate, Hot-headed, Rebellious.

Stylish (elegance): Snob, Diva, Irresistible, Cosmetology badge, Fashion interest, Formal wear

Technology: Servo, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Robotics silver Badge, Mechanical skill

Tidy: Neat, Cleaning skill, > 8 Neat personality points

Undead: Ghost*, Vampire

Well-Liked: Good reputation*, Friendly, Good, Proper, Nurturing.

*"Ghosts" = sims turned into playable ghosts, with Ghost trait (and Mermaids are sims with mermaid trait, but ofc you don't need these to be able to use this mod).

*Known issue: Servo (as such) doesn't trigger this TO. That has been fixed.

🔸 Hobby requirements in Dill's / Atomtanned's versions (as well as interest) were set to 5 points, which is kinda an average in my game. I don't want TOs to trigger too easily so I've increased these to 8 points, just like Skill point requirements.

Update: I've removed One True Hobby checks, so now only actual hobby enthusiasm points matter for triggering TOs.

I also increased good reputation requirement from 30 to 60.

Above is the comparison of original vs new TOs, in the exact order.

FYI I've fixed the little mistake I've found in the mod - in my version stylish TO works as it should.

If you have any questions about how the game calculates attraction, read this.

And here's free version (SFS) of my buyable ReNuYu potion default, will be useful if you'd like to correct TOs for all your Sims.

"ONLY TO Chemistry" mod

Conflicts with No Zodiac Chemistry by Belladovah , chemistry mods by Peanutty (it incorporates their "No zodiac and no Aspiration"mod) and any other that contain Attraction Constants BCON and Attraction Tuning BCON.

In unmodded TS2 game, interests and skills do not play part in attraction. Trait-based chemistry changes that only to some extent because Zodiac and Aspiration are more important. To make TOs the crucial attraction factor in my game, I disabled Zodiac / Aspiration Chemistry, and tweaked bolt requirements.

This mod makes chemistry between Sims straightforward and TO-based however various bonuses to attraction also apply (!), like Beauty Wish, Vacation bonuses, bonus for very good rep or penalty for extremely bad reputation (even if your Sim likes bad guys, they will be put off by Dirty Dirtbag status, and enticed by extremely good rep). Anyways, if you use this mod and your Sims have no other attraction bonuses, then:

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has none, it results in no bolts

if one Sim has two turn-ons towards the other, and the other has none, Sims have one bolt chemistry

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has a turn-off, it results in negative chemistry

if a couple has single turn-ons towards each other, it gives them one-bolt chemistry

couple has three turn-ons, that gives them two bolts

couple has three turn-ons, one turn-off, that gives them one bolt

couple has double turn-ons, they have three-bolt chemistry

Special bonuses granted by mods for certain Traits like the "irresistible" still matter of course.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Taste of Heaven

Tex Universe

You feel so out of place amongst the jerseys, your hat placed firmly on your head even as different passerby stare at you. You're used to rodeos, the smell of dirt and unruly animals, muck-covered boots, and dust-covered faces, not seats with backs on them, concrete floors and big green pitches.

You're decked out in your boots and hat, while people run around you in jerseys and shorts, flags covering their bodys and scarfs with who you can only presume are players faces on them, face paint covering their cheeks.

Mitch looks just as lost as he hands you a hot dog "Why are they dressed like that." He asks as a teenage girl walks past eyeing you suspiciously, "I think they are thinking the same thing." You decide finding your seats would be a better option then standing amongst the crowd.

At the rodeo, the focus was on the animals, the skill of the riders, the raw power of the competition. Here, the focus seemed to be on… everything else. The noise was deafening – a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the constant blare of music from the stadium speakers. It was a far cry from the low rumble of the livestock, the sharp crack of the starting gate, the announcer’s booming voice echoing across the arena.

You tugged on the brim of your hat a nervous habit you usually reserved for the moments Mitch or your brothers would burst from the chute on top of a bucking bull.

Finding your seat you can't help but stare at the pitch infront of you, it was an unnatural green, perfectly manicured and impossibly smooth, a stark contrast to the dusty, uneven ground of the rodeo arena. There were no bucking broncos, no charging bulls, no cowboys risking life and limb. Instead, small figures in brightly colored uniforms ran back and forth, chasing a small white ball. It seemed… tame.

"Wheres Leah." Mitch asks as he leans into you but you're already looking right at her, your eyes track her every move as she runs back and forth, you simply point at her.

The game unfolds in a flurry of movement. The crowd roars with every near miss, every close call. You still don’t quite understand the rules, but you’re starting to grasp the rhythm of the game. It’s a dance of strategy and athleticism, a constant push and pull between two opposing forces. It's not the raw, untamed energy of the rodeo, but it has its own kind of intensity.

Mitch, ever the pragmatist, is now fully engrossed in the game, asking you questions about the players, the score, the purpose of certain plays. You shrug most of them off, your attention fixed on Leah. You see her intercept a pass, her tall frame weaving through two her opponents. The crowd beside you erupts as she kicks the ball down the field, a collective groan echoing through the stadium as it’s blocked by the opposing goalie.

“She’s fast,” Mitch comments, nudging you with his elbow. You turn nod going to agree before you feel a tap on your shoulder. "I can't see."

You turn to find a small boy, maybe eight or nine years old, peering up at you from behind a bright blue jersey that dwarfed his small frame. He was clutching a foam finger almost as big as his arm. “I can’t see,” he repeated, his voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "Your hat, its in my way." You laugh letting out a small sorry before taking it off and placing it on your leg.

The boy beamed, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Thanks!" he chirped, immediately turning back to the field, his eyes glued to the action. You glanced down at your hat, feeling strangely bare without it. It felt like shedding a layer of skin, exposing a vulnerability you weren't used to displaying in public. You were so accustomed to the familiar weight of it, the way it shielded your eyes from the sun and the judging stares of strangers.

The game continued, and you found yourself getting more invested than you expected. You started to understand the flow of the game, the way the players moved as a unit, anticipating each other’s actions. It was a different kind of teamwork than you were used to seeing at the rodeo, where it was often man against beast. Here, it was a collective effort, a synchronized dance of skill and strategy.

You watched Leah closely, admiring her athleticism and determination. She moved with a grace and power that reminded you of a wild mustang, untamed and free. You could see the fire in her eyes, the burning desire to win. It was a familiar fire, one that burned within you too, whether you were on horseback or simply watching from the sidelines.

During a break in the game, Leah jogged towards the sidelines, catching sight of you and Mitch as you slip your hat back on standing up to make use of halftime. A wide smile spread across her face as she waved. You gave her a small wave back, feeling a surge of pride. She was thriving in this environment, embracing the energy and excitement of the game.

The little boy behind you tapped your shoulder again. "She's good," he said, pointing at Leah. "She's gonna score next time."

You nodded in agreement. "I think you're right."

“Are you a real cowboy?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. You glanced down at your boots, worn leather scuffed from years of riding and ranch work, then up at your jeans, faded and patched in places. You were a walking, talking testament to a life lived outdoors, a stark contrast to the sea of brightly colored jerseys and painted faces surrounding you.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “I reckon I am,” you replied, your voice a low drawl that seemed to amplify the difference between you and the rest of the crowd.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Wow,” he breathed, as if you’d just revealed some great, hidden secret. “Do you… do you ride bulls?”

“Used to,” you said, a flicker of memory – the adrenaline, the fear, the sheer exhilaration – passing through your mind. “Mostly horses now. And work the ranch.”

“Cool!” he exclaimed. He paused for a moment, then added in a hushed tone, “My dad says cowboys are tough.”

“They have to be,” you agreed, thinking of the long days, the unpredictable weather, the stubborn animals. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was a life you loved.

“Did you ever get bucked off?” the boy asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

You chuckled. “More times than I can count,” you admitted. “It’s part of the job.”

The boy giggled, clearly delighted by this admission. He seemed to have forgotten all about the game for the moment, his attention completely focused on you.

Mitch, who had been listening to the conversation with amusement, leaned in and ruffled the boy’s hair.  "She's the best cowgirl out there, don't let her tell you otherwise."

You shook your head, a grin spreading across your face. “Just a cowgirl” you corrected him gently.

Just then, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half. The crowd erupted once again, the noise washing over you in a wave of sound. The boy turned back to the field, his foam finger raised high in the air.

You watched Leah as she sprinted down the field, her eyes fixed on the ball. You saw the determination in her face, the same fire that burned within you. And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that she was going to make something happen.

And then, it happened. Leah received a pass, deftly maneuvering around two defenders. The crowd held its breath as she approached the goal. With a powerful kick, she sent the ball soaring through the air, past the outstretched hands of the goalie, and into the back of the net.

The stadium erupted. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wave of pure joy and excitement. You jumped to your feet, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. The little boy behind you was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I told you!” he yelled, turning to you with a triumphant grin. “She scored! She’s the best!”

You laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You were right,” you admitted.

The match ends shortly after and you can't help but stand there awkwardly, what happens now, is that it, is that the only glimpse of Leah you get.

You watch as she flutters around people hugging them, chatting excitdly but mitch digs you in the back pulling your attention, "What now." You shrug "leave i guess she-she never said anything about after so i guess that was it." Mitch can tell your upset, its weird the connection you and Leah have, for people who spend such little time together.

Mitch gives you a knowing look, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, you really think that's it?" he asks, nudging you with his elbow. "She wouldn't have invited us if she didn't want to hang out."

You shift uncomfortably, tugging at the brim of your hat again, a habit you thought you really wish you would kick. "I don't know, Mitch. It's… different. This whole thing is different." You gesture vaguely around at the emptying stadium, the lingering echoes of the crowd's roar. "I doubt I'm exactly her type, am I?"

Mitch rolls his eyes. "Since when do you care about types? You two clearly hit it off. Just give it a chance." He claps you on the shoulder.

You shake your head your eyes searching for the blonde once more "Let's just go." sighing Mitch follows you as you head towards the steps.

"Oye Texas, where do you think you're going?" a voice called out, cutting through the dispersing crowd. You froze, your hand tightening on the brim of your hat. That voice, laced with a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation, belonged to Leah.

You turned, your heart doing a funny little skip in your chest. Leah was jogging towards you, her teammates trailing behind her, offering her high fives and words of congratulations. Her face was flushed with exertion and excitement, but her smile was bright as she approached.

"We were just… leaving," you mumbled, feeling suddenly awkward under her gaze. You glanced at Mitch, who was grinning at you like a Cheshire cat.

"I've got to be back in Montana soon, you know where i'm from not Texas."

Leah stopped in front of you, her smile widening. "Leaving? The party's just getting started!" She gestured to her teammates, who had now caught up and were looking at you with curious smiles. "Guys, this is my friend, uh…" she trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

"Y/n" you supplied quickly, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Right, this is Texas, and this is Mitch. They came to watch the game."

"It was a great game," one of Leah's teammates, a girl with a different coloured, jersey and a mischievous glint in her eyes, said. "You guys brought us good luck."

"Yeah, especially when you took your hat off," another teammate teased, nudging the first girl playfully.

You felt your face heat up even more at the mention of the hat. You glanced down at it, clutched in your hand.

Leah laughed, putting a hand on your arm. "Don't mind them," she said. "They're just messing with you. So," she continued, turning her attention back to you, "we're going out to celebrate. You guys wanna come?"

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. You glanced at Mitch, who was practically bouncing with excitement. You looked back at Leah, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm.

"I…" you started, then hesitated. You were still feeling out of place, still unsure of yourself in this unfamiliar environment. But there was something about Leah's open and welcoming demeanor that made you want to say yes.

"Come on," Leah urged, her smile infectious. "It'll be fun. We can talk about… well, anything but football, if you want." She winked.

You took a deep breath, pushing down your lingering doubts. "Alright," you said, a small smile finally spreading across your own face. "We'll come."

A cheer erupted from Leah's teammates, and you couldn't help but laugh. You looked at Mitch, who gave you a thumbs-up. You looked back at Leah, whose eyes were shining with excitement.

You wait kicking your boot into the ground impatiently for the girls to finish getting ready freezing as you feel your hat being pulled off your head.

Leah laughs "Can I try it on." You stutter to answer "I-eh-i" Mitch snatches it out of the England captains hand "Only if you plan on sleeping with her."

The air crackled with a sudden tension. The playful atmosphere shifted, a subtle undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place rippling through the group. Leah’s hand, which had been reaching for the hat, froze mid-air. Her eyes flicked from the hat in Mitch’s grasp to your face, a flicker of surprise, then something akin to… amusement?

Mitch, oblivious to the change in the air, grinned, holding the hat just out of Leah’s reach. “Only if you plan on sleeping with her,” he repeated, his tone light and teasing. But the words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

You felt your stomach drop. You shot Mitch a warning glare, a silent plea to drop it. This wasn't the time, this wasn't the place, and certainly not in front of Leah's teammates. You could feel your face burning, a blush creeping up your neck. You weren't used to this kind of open flirtation, especially not directed at you.

Leah, however, surprised you. Instead of recoiling or getting offended, a slow smile spread across her face. She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with a playful challenge. “Is that how it works in Montana?” she asked, her voice smooth and teasing, a hint of a British accent coloring her words. “Hats as a pre-requisite for… companionship?”

The other girls erupted in giggles, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. Mitch, finally realizing he might have overstepped, lowered the hat slightly, a sheepish grin replacing his earlier bravado.

“Nah, I just… didn’t want you to mess up your hair,” he mumbled, offering the hat to Leah. He shot you an apologetic glance, a silent promise to explain later.

Leah took the hat, her fingers brushing against Mitch’s as she did so. She placed it carefully on her head, tilting the brim at a jaunty angle. She looked at you, a playful glint in her eyes. “How do I look?”

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, Leah handled it with grace and humor. She looked… surprisingly good in your hat. The worn leather and dusty brim contrasted sharply with her bright, athletic appearance, but somehow, it worked.

“Like you’re about to ride a bull,” you said, your voice a little rougher than you intended.

Leah laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made your chest feel tight. “Is that a good thing?”

“Depends on if you can stay on,” you replied, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Leah winked. “I’m a quick learner,” she said, adjusting the hat slightly. She turned to her teammates, striking a pose. “Right, ladies? Let’s show these cowboys how we do it in England.”

The girls cheered, their earlier curiosity replaced with genuine excitement. The atmosphere was light and playful again, the awkward moment forgotten.

As they finally headed out, Leah handed your hat back, her fingers lingering on yours for a brief moment. “Thanks for letting me borrow it, Texas,” she said, her voice soft.

“Anytime,” you mumbled, your eyes meeting hers. There was a moment of quiet understanding between you, a shared acknowledgment of the strange little dance that had just taken place.

As you walked towards the restaurant, Mitch clapped you on the back. "See? I told you she liked you."

You shoved him playfully, still processing everything that had just happened. "Shut up," you mumbled, but a small smile played on your lips.

The evening that followed was a whirlwind of laughter, good food, and surprisingly engaging conversation. You found yourself relaxing more and more as the night went on, the initial awkwardness fading into the background. You talked to Leah about everything and nothing – her passion for football, your life on the ranch, the differences between Montana and England, the similarities between rodeos and football matches.

You're so lost in converstation that you don't notice the skeeming going on around you until Millie Bright wraps her arms around you both "To the club."

The declaration hung in the air, thick with the promise of more noise, more people, and more unfamiliar territory. You blinked, momentarily stunned. A club? This was escalating quickly. You glanced at Mitch, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, then at Leah, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.

“A club?” you echoed, your voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. You weren’t exactly a stranger to bars – you’d frequented your fair share of honky-tonks back home – but a “club” sounded different. Louder. More… intense.

Millie, oblivious to your internal debate, tightened her grip on your arms, pulling you and Leah closer. “Yeah! It’s just down the street. They play great music, and it’s the perfect place to celebrate a win.”

Leah nodded in agreement. “It’ll be fun,” she reassured you, her smile warm and inviting. “You can show us some of those cowboy dance moves I’ve heard so much about.”

You chuckled, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Cowboy dance moves? You weren’t sure if the two-step you occasionally did at the local bar qualified as “cowboy dance moves.”

“I don’t know…” you began, your gaze shifting between Leah and Millie. “I’m not really dressed for…” you gestured down at your jeans and boots, feeling acutely aware of how out of place you looked compared to the other girls, who were dressed in stylish casual wear.

“Nonsense!” Millie exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s a casual place. Besides,” she added with a wink, “you look great.”

Leah echoed Millie's sentiment. "You look fine, besides, it'll be a laugh, it's not like we're going to Buckingham Palace."

Before you could protest further, you were being swept along by the group, a tide of laughter and chatter carrying you towards the dimly lit entrance of the club. The bass thumped through the closed doors, a rhythmic pulse that vibrated in your chest.

Inside, the club was a sensory overload. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and sweat, the music was deafening, and the flashing lights created a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. The space was packed with people, all moving to the beat of the music. You felt a wave of disorientation wash over you, a sudden longing for the wide-open spaces of Montana.

Leah, sensing your discomfort, placed a reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s a bit much at first,” she said, her voice barely audible above the music. “But you’ll get used to it.”

She led you and Mitch towards a quieter corner of the club, near the bar. The dim lighting cast long shadows, creating a sense of intimacy despite the crowded surroundings.

As you settled into a booth, a waitress approached, taking your drink orders. You opted for a simple beer, something familiar to hold onto in this unfamiliar environment.

The conversation flowed easily, fueled by the music and the celebratory atmosphere. You found yourself relaxing more and more, even managing to crack a few jokes that earned you genuine laughs from the group. You even found yourself dancing, albeit awkwardly, when a particularly catchy song came on. Leah, thankfully, was a patient and forgiving dance partner.

As the night wore on, the club grew even more crowded. People danced closer, the music grew louder, and the conversations became more animated. You found yourself drawn into the energy of the place, the collective euphoria of the crowd.

At one point, as you were talking to Leah about the differences between rodeos and football matches, she leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear. “You know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I never thought I’d meet a real cowgirl."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “And I never thought I’d find myself an England soccer player,” you replied, your eyes meeting hers.

The music pulsed, a rhythmic heartbeat that vibrated through the floor and into your very bones. The flashing lights painted the room in shifting hues of red, blue, and purple, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. You were surrounded by a sea of bodies, all moving to the same infectious beat. It was a far cry from the quiet nights on the ranch, the vast expanse of the Montana sky stretching overhead. But here, in this crowded, pulsating club, you felt a strange sense of belonging.

Leah’s hand was warm in yours, guiding you through the throng of dancers. She moved with a natural grace, her body swaying to the music with effortless rhythm. You, on the other hand, felt a little more… awkward. Your boots weren’t exactly designed for dancing on a crowded dance floor, and your usual two-step felt out of place amidst the more modern moves on display.

But Leah didn’t seem to mind. She laughed as you stumbled slightly, her hand tightening on yours, pulling you closer. “Just feel the music,” she shouted over the din, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t think too much.”

You took her advice, letting the music wash over you, letting your body move instinctively. You loosened up, the tension in your shoulders easing as you started to find a rhythm of your own. Leah’s presence was a comforting anchor, her laughter and encouragement pushing you to let go of your inhibitions.

As the song reached its crescendo, Leah spun you around, her hand sliding down your arm to rest on your waist. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself on her shoulder. For a brief moment, you were close, your faces inches apart. You could feel her breath on your lips, the scent of her perfume filling your senses.

The world seemed to fade away, the music softening, the crowd blurring into a background hum. It was just you and Leah.

As the song reached its end, Leah leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’m glad you came,” she shouts, her voice barely audible above the music.

"I-I didn't think you would." she shouts again her grip on your waist tightening slightly pulling you impossibly closer, "I wouldn't miss this for anything" you shout back your hands resting on the back of her neck.

The world seems to disappear, the bass no longer thumps in your ears and the bodys that crash into you don't bother you anymore as your eyes flick between Leah's eyes and her lips.

You leaned in, drawn by an invisible force, your breath catching in your throat as leah rushes forward knocking your hat slightly.

Her lips were soft, warm, and hesitant at first, then they pressed a little firmer against yours. It was a brief kiss, a stolen moment in the chaos of the club, but it held a depth that surprised you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes met yours, a mixture of nervousness and excitement shining in their depths. A faint blush dusted her cheeks, making her even more beautiful in the dim light. You felt your own face flush, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the club.

Her eyes don't leave yours as her hand reachs pulling the hat of your head and placing it on her own again. You smile unaware of leahs intentions "I'm wearing your hat." she shouts you laugh "I already told you you look good in it." Leah shakes her head "No I'm wearing your hat." You tilit your head in confusion before Leah pulls you into another kiss "Take me home Texas."

The request hung in the air, a potent invitation. You looked at Leah, really looked at her, and saw a vulnerability beneath the playful exterior, a genuine desire that mirrored your own. The initial shock of her boldness gave way to a surge of exhilaration. This wasn’t just a fleeting connection, a drunken kiss in a crowded club. This was something more.

“I’m from Montana,” you corrected gently, a smile playing on your lips.

Leah laughed, a bright, melodic sound that cut through the noise. “Details, details,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Just… take me home.”

[izzabela]

simon is a husky and in a good way

a guard dog, protector, and provider, this man will not let you lift a fooken' finga'. it's relieving, comforting, and freeing.

being so on guard with yourself and your feelings, projecting a "masculine" energy, finally someone understands that femininity is earned- honestly, it scares you how quick your brain turns off when you're with him.

don't know where to eat? "tha's olright, go' a place reserved- your favori' too."

not sure where to go for a date? "shoppin'll fix ya right up- big bonus from a mission."

and you're willing to listen to him, willing to hear his word and follow his advice and heed like a fucking prayer.

bad vibes from her? good, cutting her off immediately.

he seems like a muppet? blocked, reported, and out of mind.

hell, he'll even drag you away when he feels you've done enough for a night, or maybe when you're just a bit tired.

and you don't mind. as much as he's a well trained dog, you listen just a well.

[drvscarlett]

The Tortured Drivers' Department

— combining another one of my favorites. I'll be taking notes and writing fics about which TTPD song do I associate with the drivers ( + I will be including the retired ones). This is the main list and I'll be linking them when I finished writing them. Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Also give TTPD a listen. Its so beautiful and a masterpiece

Fortnight

— i love you, its ruining my life (Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes!reader)

The Tortured Poets Department 

— At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding (Pierre Gasly x ex!reader)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 

— 'Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart left all these broken parts (Lando Norris x reader)

Down Bad

— Fuck it if I can't have him (Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader)

So Long, London

— You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? (George Russell x secret girlfriend! reader)

But Daddy I Love Him

— "I'm having his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces (Alex Albon x Horner!reader)

Fresh Out the Slammer

— Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you (Esteban Ocon x childhood bestfriend!reader)

Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the Machine) 

—I need to forget, so take me to Florida (Logan Sargeant x heiress!reader)

Guilty as Sin?

—What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

— I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean (Nico Rosberg x Lewis Hamilton)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

— they shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I tell 'em he's my man (Daniel Ricciardo x longtime girlfriend!reader)

loml

— Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye. The coward claimed he was a lion (Max Verstappen x childhood sweetheart!reader)

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart 

— Lights, camera, bitch, smile (Zhou Guanyu x model!reader)

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

— And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive (Yuki Tsunoda x Actress!reader)

The Alchemy

—'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me (Kimi Räikkönen x assistant!reader)

Clara Bow

— This town is fake, but you're the real thing (Sebastian Vettel x Ferrari heir!reader)

The Black Dog

— I am someone who, until recent events you shared your secrets with (Mick Schumacher x driver!reader

imgonnagetyouback

— I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch (Fernando Alonso x wife!reader)

The Albatross

— She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you (Jenson Button x revenger!reader)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

—So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon? (Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!reader)

How Did It End?

— The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling (Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri)

So High School

—You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her (Charles Leclerc x reader ft Max Verstappen x childhood friend!reader)

I Hate It Here

—I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (Kimi Räikkönen x interviewer! reader)

thanK you aIMee

— And then she wrote headlines in the local paper laughing at each baby step I'd take (Mark Webber x reader)

I Look in People’s Windows

—What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time (Sebastian Vettel x reader)

The Prophecy

—Don't want money, just someone who wants my company (Pierre Gasly x politician's daughter!reader)

Cassandra

—So they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst (Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader)

Peter

— Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine (Lando Norris x reader)

The Bolter

— "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" (Max Verstappen x hollywood starlet!reader)

Robin

— You have no room in your dreams for regrets (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend!reader)

The Manuscript

—One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then I re-read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore (Carlos Sainz x McLaren employee!reader)

[moonmaiden1996]

Paws, Pouts, and a Pettiness

Honestly, I have loved writing these little stories! I have written about five these week to keep me sane! I hope you enjoy.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, scattering warm golden light over the camp. By the small river at its edge, you knelt, gently scrubbing the dirt from Scratch’s fur. The loyal dog wagged his tail in sheer bliss, his bright eyes fixed on you with a look of unwavering trust.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, working soap into his coat. Your fingers paused now and then to scratch behind his ears, earning a pleased huff as he leaned into your touch. His happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling at his unguarded joy.

However, that happiness that did not extent to a certain pointing ears of elf. Not far off, Astarion stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the scene. The sunlight dappled your damp skin, each droplet shimmering like it had been purposefully placed to torment him. His sharp gaze moved between you and the dog—a dog!—receiving care and affection that, in his not-so-humble opinion, should have been reserved entirely for him.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. What did that mutt have that he didn’t? His hair was better, his presence infinitely more captivating, and he certainly didn’t leave muddy paw prints everywhere. And yet here you were, lavishing care on that slobbering beast.

With a swirl of his crimson cloak, he strode toward you, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn ground. As he approached, you glanced up at the sound, and to your surprise, his usual smirk was absent. In its place was a dramatic pout, his expression a masterful blend of wounded pride and exaggerated heartbreak.

"Darling," he began, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Tell me it isn’t true. Have I truly been replaced? Is my endless devotion not enough for you?"

You blinked up at him, bemused. "Replaced? Astarion, it’s just a bath. Scratch got himself filthy today."

"Filthy?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart as though you’d struck him. "And yet here you are, treating him like royalty. When he was the one that happily dived paw first into the puddle. Meanwhile, I—your loyal, loving, and might I add exceptionally attractive companion—am left standing here, abandoned. Neglected! How could you, my sweet? Have I not earned your touch?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, turning back to Scratch, who wagged his tail happily, utterly oblivious to the vampire’s theatrics. "You’re being ridiculous," you said, rinsing soap from the dog’s fur. "Scratch needed a bath. Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled—you’re always complaining about how he smells."

"Thrilled?" Astarion gasped, his voice rising in incredulous outrage. He crouched beside you now, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "My dear, do you see what’s happening here? That mangy creature is stealing what’s rightfully mine. I’ve been sitting over there, watching you dote on him, fawn over him, for what feels like an eternity. When was the last time you touched me with such care? Or looked at me like that?"

"You want me to give you a bath too?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His lips quirked up into a devilish grin. "Is that an offer? Because yes, I think I deserve a bath." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want your hands on me, scrubbing my back, washing my hair... tending to me in every possible way." he purred seductively.

You paused mid-rinse, water dripping back into the stream as you fixed him with a skeptical look. "You’re jealous," you accused, though your voice was light with amusement.

"Jealous?" he repeated, gasping dramatically. "No, no, my darling. Not jealous—heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. My poor, withered heart may not survive this cruelty." He glanced over at Scratch with narrowed eyes. "First, the mutt takes your attention. What’s next? My place by the fire? My bedroll."

Before you could respond, Scratch bounded away, shaking off water with wild abandon. A spray of droplets hit both you and Astarion, and the dog happily flopped onto the grassy bank, basking in the sun. You made to follow him, but Astarion’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His crimson eyes met yours, the usual mischief replaced with something raw and unguarded. "Don’t go running off after him again. Stay with me. Please."

Your heart softened at the vulnerability in his tone, but before you could reply, he tugged you forward—too fast, too forcefully. You stumbled, falling into the shallow river with a loud splash.

"Astarion!" you shrieked, glaring up at him as icy water soaked through your clothes.

He knelt beside you in the water, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated innocence. "Oh dear, what an unfortunate accident," he drawled, though the triumphant smirk curling his lips betrayed him. "I suppose this means you’ll have to spend some time with me now. Away from the dog."

"You’re insufferable," you snapped, splashing a handful of water at him. It hit his chest, darkening the fine fabric of his shirt.

"And yet, you adore me," he countered, utterly unfazed. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with surprising gentleness. "Admit it, my sweet. You’d rather be here, soaking wet and utterly enraptured by me, than doting on that mongrel."

Your scowl melted into a reluctant laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you’re stuck with me anyway." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, the earlier dramatics replaced by a raw neediness that stole your breath.

As the water lapped around you, his forehead came to rest against yours. "Tell me you love me more than the dog," he murmured, his tone halfway between a command and a plea. "I need to hear it."

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in his damp curls. "I love you more than Scratch."

"Thank the gods," he sighed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "I was beginning to doubt my charms."

From the sunny bank, Scratch tilted his head, watching the scene with mild confusion. But when you didn’t chase him, he flopped onto his side with a huff, ear sagging as he watched you both. For now, it seemed Astarion had successfully reclaimed your attention—for now.

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

27 / 1.7k / spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2

⬇ nsfw; mention of revenge porn

...

Gaz doesn't negotiate. He doesn't back down. When the situation calls for it, he knows when it's time to escalate.

That's why he fucks you on your dining room table instead of a public bathroom. Partly because he's not a slag. The idea of you possibly agreeing to do it--of giving him the same ammunition you gave your ex to humiliate you--leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Even if you started rumors and risked his reputation.

A growl rises in his throat at the thought of your ex having the gall to send him that video of you. Christ. What on Earth did you see in him?

Partly, though, he wants to fuck you in your own house so that when he next sees your prat of an ex-boyfriend, he can properly rub it in that fucker's face that you invited him in on the first date.

Or maybe he'll take a picture of your panties in his teeth. He hasn't decided yet.

You're strung out with pleasure, your bare back against the table. You’re caught between wondering why he wanted to fuck you after all and letting every last reservation about it vanish into nothing. You’ve always wanted this. You never thought it would happen.

"Sergeant," you gasp out. "Is this-- what about your reputation--?"

"Don't start." His fingers trail the lines of your body, his eyes fixed on the parts of you he caught only blurry glimpses of in your ex's video. It didn't do you justice.

He wants to pretend there's nothing to this besides convenience--you did owe him. Hell, you wanted to sleep with him. You always made that crystal clear. Now he's just allowing himself to give in to baser impulses like a dog snatching up a rabbit thrown into its path.

But you're right. This will look bad if someone finds out. He should worried, but it's hard to care about that when the thing competing for his attention is the filthy way your pussy swallows him again and again, seeing how slick you leave the base of his cock.

He should've used a condom. He knows for a fact you knew he didn't and you said nothing. He'd tell you off for it now, too, but he's absolutely certain it would just make you cum. The nerve of you.

His hips stutter for a second before he can banish that thought from his mind. He shouldn't like the idea of you being that obsessed. Acting like you'd do anything he asked. Christ, work would be a nightmare if this got out. Him actually sleeping with you. But then again, he suddenly doesn't much like the idea of you finding a different rebound. You'd just be thinking of him anyway, right? Wouldn’t you?

Whatever. He’ll deal with the fallout later. When he's not enjoying your body.

“Who’s going to know?” he murmurs, eyes falling to your chest. “Let it go.”

“Mkay,” you sigh out. There's nothing more you want than to please him right now.

"You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you." It's not a question. You both know it's true. And he likes that--he hates admitting it, but he does. His eyes drop to your pussy again, and his hips pick up their pace.

You've spent months flirting with him, teasing him about taking you to bed. Now you're getting everything you want. He's right. Why would you care one goddamn second about the consequences? “Anything.”

He hates how needy you sound when you say that. You're too trusting. He's taking advantage of you. Don't you get that?

His grip on your hips tightens, pushing into you more and more roughly. Your moans rise in pitch and he has to grit his teeth.

“Good." He says lowly. "Then you won't tell a soul about this, will you?"

"But--ah, ngh..." You bite your lip as he stops thrusting and grinds himself into you. You gyrate your hips, needing friction. "But people already think we're together."

“Do they? That’s a bold claim.” You're overestimating how many people believe silly rumors. Besides, it's hardly your concern anymore. He lays his palms flat on the table on either side of you, bracing himself. Your skin is so soft; your neck tempts him, but he restrains himself. "You're keeping your mouth shut from now on, yeah?"

You let out a sound of frustration as he slows even further. You try to push your hips harder against his. "Sergeant, please!"

"You want this, don't you?" His voice is chilled, but the heat in his eyes as he stares down at your bucking hips is hardly discouraging. "You'll want it again. You'll keep wanting it."

"Ugh, yes," you snap, squeezing your thighs fruitlessly around his toned waist.

"As long as you don't tell a soul about this, I’ll see to it that you get what you want," he growls. "Not your team, your friends, your stupid ex. No one."

You open your mouth to question him again, but he pulls away and snaps his hips hard into yours. Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a string of semi-coherent affirmations. Yes, you'll keep it quiet. Yes, you'll pretend none of this ever happened. Yes, you'll never use his name on base again. Anything he wants. Just don't stop.

"Good girl. Good girl..." Easy enough. Now that he knows how to get his way with you, you shouldn't be such a problem anymore. He can’t help but be a little greedy, though. "You're not going to fuck anyone else, either."

"Never!"

He grunts in approval. "And you'll never--and I mean never --try to get back with your ex. Understand? You'll stay away from him."

You writhe and plead, winding your arms around his shoulders. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the table, the muscles in his arms taut.

"Do. You. Understand?" His voice comes down on you like low thunder, all around you.

"Yes!"

"Good. I'll know if you do. Mm…" His breathing grows shallow. Your heat is impossibly tight, and tightening up even more. He squeezes your wrists. "You going to cum?"

"C-Can I?" you breathe out. "Please, can I cum?"

His hips stutter and he has to close his eyes for a moment. God, he's never been tested like this.

"Sergeant, please!"

"Cum," he says, the word short and sharp like gunfire. "Cum on my cock. Right now."

He presses his thumb to your clit and you wail, clenching around him like you haven't cum in weeks. Your body rolls, practically convulses, your head knocking against your dining table as you arch up. He lets out a snarl, not slowing down despite how painfully tight you squeeze him.

Once you come down from the high, his pace never slowing, your swollen core twitches and spasms with overstimulation. You cry out, but you make yourself stay in place. You want to keep making him feel good. You want to make him feel better than he ever has.

"Cum inside me," you pant out. "I-I'm on birth control. You can-- please--"

"You're a liar," he growls through clenched teeth even as he picks up his pace.

"I promise," you plead. Even if you're a liar, and you are, you're not lying about this. God, you want him to do it so bad you can feel yourself clench up again at the thought.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm when he pulls out, spilling his load across your chest and stomach instead.

You clench down on nothing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction even as your orgasm ebbs out of reach. You let your head fall back onto the table, your breathing heavy. You don't see his eyes running over you, deliberating.

"Sergeant?"

"Mm?"

"Do you maybe want my phone number?" Almost seems like a silly question. He has your address now anyway.

"Hm." He pulls away, picking up your discarded purse from the mess of clothes on the floor. He pulls out your phone and opens your texts, types in his number, and sends himself a quick message. Then he finds your conversation with your ex-boyfriend. His eyes narrow. The last texts exchanged were earlier tonight. And you started it. You told him you were out to dinner with someone else. Just to get a rise out of your ex. It obviously worked.

That's okay, he figures, opening the menu and blocking your ex's number. If there's one person he does want to know about this, it's that arsehole. Maybe now he'll stay away from you.

You sit up. "Kyle?"

His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. "Yeah?"

"Were you serious?"

"I was."

"Even about coming over again?"

"I mean every word I say.” He hands your phone back to you and begins to get dressed.

You watch him, grasping the edge of the table. "When will you be back?"

"My squad leaves on assignment tomorrow. Don't know how long it'll be." He zips up and grabs his t-shirt. "I'll text you."

"Right, right." You suppress a sigh. "Always got a job to do."

He slings his coat over his shoulder, then pauses. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but reach his hand out to your cheek. He runs the back of his finger over your jawline. Then he disguises the tender gesture by gripping your chin and pulling it up so you're looking him in the eye.

"Behave," he tells you, voice low. "No sleeping around. No flirting of any kind. Is that clear?"

Your heart pounds. You swallow and nod.

"Good," he says, holding your gaze a moment longer.

As he leaves, closing the door behind him, he curses himself.

This is not a good idea. What's he trying to do, fix you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn't going to end well. You're not good for him. But damn if he doesn't feel more satisfied than he has in years.

He has no choice. If he wants you to behave, he'll have to keep your eyes on him. Whether he’s on base or not.

...

part 1 / [part 2]

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