#so I hope what I ended up with is okay for the most part!

[jaggedamethyst]

not in that way (part one)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, protected sex (yeah wrap that up), rough, choking, fwb, mean bucky, mutual pining, not proofread

notes: thank you guys for the support on the snippet as well as for waiting for me as i got this done! i just finished finals so i plan on locking in on this one and circuit breaker bc i cannot stop thinking about them.

ps. i swear bucky and reader are friends, just had to hit the angst and give some background but there will be cute moments along with smut probably every chapter...I'm hoeing out.

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

“Steve?” You called out to him, steps pounding behind you as you hurriedly moved toward his pinged location. “Steve, oh my god.” Your voice trailed off, shock evident. 

People brushed by you and pushed toward Steve’s figure on the ground. You’d never seen him like this. Sure, Steve Rogers was a super soldier and the most physically strong man you knew—but this was different. Mentally, he seemed destroyed. 

He called your phone, short of breath and muttering for help. It immediately sent you into action. You were normal—the most civilian anyone could be. There was no other option but to call someone, plead with them to find and help your friend. He’d been washed up on the shore, lying in the dirt and clearly out of it. 

You watched him get worked on, staring into the distance. 

“What happened?” You kneeled next to him,  “Who did this?” 

Steve turned to you, eyes glossed over in disbelief. “Bucky.” He shook his head, “It was Bucky.” He kept repeating it to himself, attempting to convince his own mind that it was true. “It was him. It was Bucky. He was here.” 

“I don’t understand,” you grasped his shoulder. “I thought he was gone—you saw.” You gulped, searching his face for any hesitance. “You said he fell, that he-“

“It was him.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, “Okay, I believe you. He was here.” 

It was true. The man you’d heard so many stories about had returned. He wasn’t like the anecdotes Steve recalled; this Bucky was darker, more quiet, resigned. 

He was an observer. You often caught him staring at you, eyes lingering between your figure and Steve’s. Bucky would always stand, tucked into a corner. He didn’t feel deserving of the warmth Steve offered—the humanity that remained present in you. There were times, then, that you would offer a welcoming hand. A slight wave of motion offered him a seat, acknowledging that he did deserve to be there. He felt human with you. 

That’s what initially drew Bucky to you and inevitably why you became friends, too. There was a way that you loved everyone, insisted on not leaving them out and nourished their insides. 

The hurt came when he realized it would never be that way for him.

You could never love him, not a monster. Not when the shining emblem of a perfect man sat beside you every day. Steve had so much time with you—he was your best friend. Bucky couldn’t replace him, not if he tried. So he always kept you at arms length, hoping to be more than friends but settling for something less. 

The first time it happened, when Bucky had been so lucky to have a moment with you—he swore that he was dreaming. He never gave you a reason to like him, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d gone out of his way every day to push you further from him, make it known that he’d never be as good as Steve. 

He could tell you saw something different; he hated it. 

The three of you had tried small talk often, Steve facilitating some sort of discussion to break the ice. It almost always ended with you and Bucky exactly where you started, friends who were forced to be so because of a mutual one.

“Well, I’m headed out—you two should talk.”

“Steve, no-“ 

“Buck, you two are my favorite people in the world. I would love it if you gave this a chance.” Steve patted his friend’s shoulder, “For me. Please.” 

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a solid expression on his face. He didn’t speak, just gave him a small nod and let Steve step around him and out of your place. 

It was common that Steve would find solace in your home. It was far from the city, neatly tucked away in a residential area. There was a sense of normalcy and he was proud to introduce that to Bucky—he needed that, deserved it after everything. 

The room was silent, violently so. You sat across from Bucky—him lingering in your peripheral and you nestled softly into your couch. He didn’t move, standing still near a wall which offered him the sight of every possible window and exit. 

“Do you wanna sit?” 

You watched his body for any reaction, dissatisfied when there was none. It was awkward, him avoiding eye contact and you not sure of what else to say. 

You sighed, “I’ll be back.” You announced your departure, not that it mattered to him. 

You beelined to the bathroom, desperately needing to escape him. He was always like this, closed off and so obviously annoyed by your presence. Splashing your face with water did little to temper you and your body seemed to overheat at the thought of having to see him again. 

You didn’t let yourself think—couldn’t. You stepped out and kept your head down before looking toward Bucky’s signature spot on the wall. He wasn’t there. 

You tilted your head down, seeing Bucky now sitting on the couch, two cushions away from where you’d been prior. He watched you smile softly, moving to sit in your spot.

Bucky made a habit of keeping his hands in his lap. He would sit stoically at all times. It was the same now. 

He avoided eye contact but muttered, “Hi.” 

Your breath hitched, surprised he’d started conversation. Keeping your tone even so as not to overwhelm him, you replied, “Hi, Bucky.” 

The both of you nodded, letting the weight of your forced proximity surround you. As much as he tried, he couldn’t ignore you. The faint smell of your hair products, the way you tapped your own leg rhythmically, how nervous you were—he noticed it all. 

“Do you, um,” you swallowed. “Do you want something to drink, maybe?” 

It’d been over a year since Bucky showed up. You, of course, shared small talk with him in that time. He’d grown to know the story of you and Steve—how you met. It would suffice to say that Bucky grew to be an acquaintance of yours—a long lost friend of a friend…one that would never truly like you. Accepting that was hard; you wanted Bucky to be comfortable at the very least. If not like you, he would at bare minimum be able to sit down for once. 

So today was a win. 

Bucky didn’t reply to your question but instead asked his own, “How was Steve? Without me, I mean?” 

His voice was gruff, and you hadn’t expected that question, let alone more than a single syllable from him. 

“Well,” you readjusted to face Bucky, “He’s always the most positive guy in the room—which I’m sure you know.”

Bucky let a smirk slip, recounting the optimism his friend had at all times. 

“He’s better than me that way, than a lot of us.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. He’s just Steve, you know that.” 

He didn’t know that. Bucky was living in his body but observing from outside his own mind. He was witnessing his friend after so much time had escaped him. Everything he thought was true wasn’t anymore. 

He wanted to get to know you, offer you the same grace that was given to him. But he couldn’t. Before it even begun Bucky was overwhelmed. He pushed himself to be kinder, to do this for Steve. It was simply futile. 

He stood suddenly and looked down at you, “I should go.” 

“Okay,” you stood, nodding. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his posture again. He didn’t respond. 

“I’ll tell Steve you tried today,” you whispered to him. “I know he’ll appreciate it. I do.” 

The tension was palpable. Your eyes stayed locked on each other until you heard a sound and looked down. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm was clear, only slightly suppressed by the gloves he always wore. He watched you noticing his hand twitch as if he wanted to move it. There was a restraint there, like he was pushing down something that was second nature. As if he meant to do something that he’d always done. 

You swallowed hard enough to hear it in your ears. Looking at Bucky, you arched your brow in a subtle defiance—daring him to do what he intended. You wanted to know him and his habits, to understand even a modicum of what was in his brain. 

Without thinking a second more, he let his left arm lift a bit. He reached toward your face but paused at you flinching, leaning away from him. 

Just barely audible, you spoke, “Sorry.” 

Bucky blinked and furrowed his brows, unable to stop himself. He let his fingers wrap around your face, a single hand pressing just under your chin and at the top of your throat. Slightly wide eyed, you watched him watching you. Most of his hand rested on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the other side of your face. 

Despite no longer being the Winter Soldier, his habits lingered. When in that state he remembered being like this so vividly—a hand around someone’s throat and crushing the life out of them. He hissed at the thought, not at all intending for that with you. He craned your head, though, observing the quizzical look on your face. 

It didn’t make sense to him, the need to maintain this routine. But he did. Beyond the haze of what was once his signature way of taking life—he saw a new one. Bucky could envision his future so clearly, yet he couldn’t let himself have it. 

He went to drop his hand but stopped at the feeling of yours on his wrist. It was inexplicable. Glove or not, you craved the contact from him. 

The room stayed silent except for the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you. While Bucky stayed steady, you teetered on the balls of your feet—this moment feeling fleeting. 

He inched forward, watching your eyes fall closed. 

Your lips were right there, the ones he’d openly been ogling at for months. It was torture, but all he knew. He couldn't allow himself the satisfaction of the feeling. He wasn’t deserving. 

Instead, he latched onto your neck. Bucky kissed and nibbled there with an urgency you hadn’t expected—hell, you didn’t even think today would’ve progressed to this at all. 

The feeling of him on you was intoxicating, and it was so minuscule. His hands were all over you, and yours on him. Your breath came out ragged, “We shouldn’t.” 

“You’re right.” He paused on your neck briefly, directly in your ear now. “We shouldn’t.” 

“We’re friends.” You nodded, letting your hands trail up his back and into his hair. 

“Are we?”

You weren’t sure. It was complicated. You couldn’t let yourself think about that now and neither could he. 

He pushed you down onto the couch and stood above you, allowing you to finally look him over. He was casually in jeans and a t-shirt, the rest of his body entirely covered. The only skin that showed besides his face was just below at his neck. Around it lied his dog tags that he was so adamant about wearing. The glint of them always caught your eye and alerted you of his presence. Even when he showed up silent, you’d see him and those damn tags. Just always out of your eyeline but in the room—that was who Bucky had always been. In his stoicism he was still consistently there.

Watching Bucky undo his pants already had you eager for him, too. There was always something there for you, an intrigue simply at the way he carried himself. You stayed seated, leaning back a bit in an attempt to slide down your sweatpants. Both of you watched the other discarding the bottom half of their clothes with little thought, tossing them aside. 

He leaned, then, ruffling into his dark jacket’s interior. 

“I got it,” he mumbled, ripping into the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slid the latex over himself just before pushing the jacket off his back. 

He kneeled into the couch, the angle awkward but enough that he was able to slide into you like he wanted. It was tight—rough. You expected the burn but still sucked in a breath at it, the lack of prep. Bucky didn’t mean to make it this way but just wanted it to be over—the insatiable need to pump in and out of you. Only you.

Slowly and deliberately he continued to kiss around your neck, collarbone, and ears. He snapped into you, purposely moving at a speed that allowed him to chase a high rather than savor the moment with you. He wanted to, truly…to acknowledge the way you looked up at him. It was his dream to let the sounds of you falling apart actually hit his ears and mean something—but he couldn’t. 

The couch creaked and rocked. You were now slightly bent into the back of the cushions, your chest moving up and down alongside Bucky’s. He pulled back, stabilizing himself behind you. The new angle allowed you to see his dog tags again, them hitting you with every movement into you. Without thinking you grabbed them, hooking them under one of your fingers. 

He finally allowed himself some relief, his voice dragging out the moans he’d himself been holding in. “Fuck...” 

You watched him intently, pulling him closer by the chain on his neck. He shifted his angle a bit at that and watched your jaw drop open. Your brows furrowed, whines choking out of you at the new sensation. It made you let go of his tags, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. This made him pound into you faster—realizing a tether of intimacy was gone. 

He was subconsciously glad for that, happy that he could pinpoint and force that sweet look in your eyes away. There was no longer an adoration in your gaze but simply one of pleasure. This was for the best. He could appreciate you from a distance despite the line of friendship being crossed so carelessly now. 

“Shit,” you groaned out suddenly. “Buck-“ 

He hushed you softly, quelling the harsh sound in your throat. It only spurred him on though, truly ruthless about this. He only slowed at the feeling of your fingers gliding over his face, pushing the stray piece of hair out of view. His pace stuttered, faltering as he really looked at you. 

A second later, he started in on you again. A clothed hand found its way into your shirt and pinched at your nipples. His grip was rough, kneading your chest. You were already so close; every additional sensation only pushing you further.

You met him suddenly, writhing into him and filling the living room with lewd slapping sounds. 

Bucky huffed breaths out at every push into you. You fought a squeak, pressing your own hand over your mouth. You gnawed at it as it allowed some relief from the burning inside of you. He was hitting that same spongey spot over and over. He was so good at picking up on the subtle changes in your face and body. 

Without warning he slipped out and nudged you, “Turn.” 

You did without questioning, a firm covered hand rubbing at the skin of your hips. Regardless of his gloves, you felt the difference in his hands—the slight shift of metal in one versus the pulse in the other. There was a contrast you enjoyed, a chill about his metal arm that grounded you. 

A knee pushed your legs open as he slid into you again, this time using you as leverage. Bucky pushed you down slowly, this side of your head finding the cushion. This angle was new, deeper. It wouldn’t be much longer at this point and he could tell. One hand slipped underneath you and up to your neck again, squeezing just enough for you to appreciate the loss of breath. In between gasps you nudged further into the couch, the sensation becoming too much for you. 

He couldn’t stop when you came, relishing the way your insides continued to pulse. It was as if he was meant to stay; his one true purpose was to be completely enveloped by you. When he finished a strained sound choked in his throat, one that you hadn’t expected. 

You were throbbing still, a cold feeling finally making you realize he pulled away. The feeling of him on you had gone away so quick. The sound of a different metal clanked—his belt buckle bouncing around as he slid his pants back on. 

“Should we…should I tell Steve about this?” 

Your question was sudden, but was filled with a weight that scared him. You didn’t want to be too forward—but it was only right. Steve was now caught in the middle of something complicated. Even if this was the first and only time…you weren’t sure you could keep this from him. 

Bucky thought differently. 

“Why would you wanna tell him?” 

“Because it’s-“ 

“Leave him out of this.”  

Bucky readjusted his clothes, smoothing them over as they’d been before. You watched him inch his way to the door—his back toward you. 

You ignored the pang in your chest, the confusion that now resonated in you. Pushing it away, you settled on changing the subject. “Steve wanted to do something tomorrow, you coming?” 

He didn’t turn as he grabbed the doorknob, merely craned his head to the side. You watched his profile for any sense of something but again he was so unreadable for you. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Then he left. 

taglist (click to request to be tagged)

@crookedtimetravelheart @wintercrows @rimunagenius @gorgeouslylethal @taylormobley @fan4astic @chimchoom @lilulo-12 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hrlzy @foxinthestreet98 @lostinspace33 @royallykt @sleepysongbirdsings @pickuptruck01 @unclearblur @mrsalexstan @akiyhara @spaceconveyor @winchestert101

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings or if anyone has advice on how to fix it lmk!!)

[rotagnus]

Messages From God & The Universe <3

happy wednesday babies! i hope all of you are doing well. here is a little pac with guidance for all of you. if you guys are wondering why i am posting so much, i have a lot of free time on my hands and am trying to grow my intuition and my faith. i hope you guys enjoy this reading!! much love <3

pile 1.

the signs have been pouring in for you, and this is your permission to take them into your heart. a lot of you are hesitant, and do not want to believe that what you've seen is a sign, specifically the sign that's been lingering in your thoughts more than most. i am hear to tell you that this is what you think it is. a lot of you also seem to feel like you're always watching the happiness go by due to your own morals...many of the people you know have been experiencing joys lately that you have not given yourself access to.

don't worry. God has a plan for you, the universe, whatever you hold belief in. a lot of you have been finding joys in putting all of yourself into activities...maybe over-training, studying too hard, et cetera. take a break. i know you don't want to focus on these things that have been bothering you, but you should. the answer is right there. you'll be glowing, soon. your happiness will return to you, and it'll be visible; your skin might clear up, you might look better, you know what i mean? i love you, the universe/God does, and i assure you that you can take a deep breath and trust, trust that you will be okay.

pile 2.

a lot of you have experienced a heartbreak recently. this will uplift you, and it is not a sign that God/the universe has left you. sometimes, when everything is breaking; it's a sign that it's all coming together. everything will clear up soon. sometimes, you are meant to go on a journey alone; but you are never alone. your ancestors, guardian angels, higher beings...they're all with you. things have been going out of your life for a reason; bad ones permanently, good ones temporarily. but you must not focus on those right now. uplift your heart. you're powerful because you have a strong sense of compassion and kindness. utilize that. understand that not everyone wants to hurt you.

there are a pair of eyes on you, watching you. be wary of people, and be observant. your power lies in your heart, in your ability to forgive others. with the two of hearts, here, this may signify a union between you and something else, or someone else. you are divinely protected, and you need to have more trust in what is going to happen. it'll happen to better you. the universe is telling me to tell you that it's got you covered, on its own timing. so relax. also, the sense of discomfort you have will be uplifted.

pile 3.

there is a sense of vagueness and mystery in your life. cycles are ending, and you've come out glowing and strong. you've been reborn into a burning phoenix. this change has been for the better; think of who you were, particularly in the winter of 2024, the early months (november, december). you were most likely miserable; if not, this pile isn't for you, darling. you were closed off emotionally and you lost so many parts of yourself you believed that soon you would be nothing but empty space.

God/the universe is telling you to open your heart up. you have so many wants...so many desires, but you feel as if you'll lose this new you if you even dare to open up again. you're sensitive, easily hurt, and with this new change, it's hard for you to navigate this path. you're a lamb. the most important advice here is to be able to open up, but follow your judgements with people. trust the little voice in your ear. be vulnerable, be you, but with the right people. discernment is crucial. you will be tested to see if you've learned; so be prepared. but this new cycle is good. you needed this new start.

[frudoo]

hiii sorry ik u write slasher!141 so maybe this could be some random version of that but what if reader is craving physical touch and simon is *refusing* to give it to her and being super mean so she goes to johnny crying and he satisfies her needs and comforts her ?🎀

only if you feel comfortable writing !! 💗🎀

Once again I am SO SORRY it’s taken me so long to get to your ask!!!

This kinda turned into more of a Simon-heavy fic than I thought, I hope that’s okay :(( on this blog, SIMON RILEY GETS A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!

Hope this holds y’all over while I’m working on the second part of this 🤞

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Mentions of depression (one use of ‘kys’). Hurt/comfort. Entire series is a dark!fic—MDNI.

Sometimes, Simon gets in a foul mood.

Today, it was a victim that got him all twisted up. Slippery little bitch, always managing to weasel her way out of his usually iron-tight grip and immobilize him just long enough to go into hiding. When he finally took a bludgeon to her knees so that she couldn’t run anymore, she resorted to scratching, and when he ripped off her nails, it turned into harsh words. Typically he’s able to drown their bullshit out, but this harlot was absolutely brutal.

Gotta kill bitches because you can’t get any pussy?

Fucking ugly bastard, you remind me of my uncle’s dead dog.

Why don’t you spare your victims and kill yourself instead?

Needless to say, her death was quick and well-deserved. Still, her words got to him. All the depression he’s tried to fight off for most of his sorry life came back roaring like a forest fire. He came barreling inside the house and upon seeing his bad mood, you attempted to hug him.

He shoved you off.

Simon, your sweet baby boy who always makes sure to give you a lingering kiss each morning, night, and every hour in between; the man who pulls you into the shower every chance he gets just so he can take the time to ask about your day while he carefully washes your hair; the one who brutalizes anyone who dares look at you the wrong way—Simon Riley shoved you off. You fell to the ground and all he did was step over you, storming up the stairs to his room. Kyle was first to get off of the couch and run after him. John pressed a short, apologetic kiss to your forehead then followed the younger man. You heard the lock click and then you were alone.

The tears come before you can fight them off. Not once has Simon ever treated you like this. Even when you beg, the man refuses to do anything remotely kinky in the bedroom if it involves you being brought momentary pain. The sudden change in his behavior is jarring, to say the least. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, curling into a sad little ball on the ground and sobbing.

“Bon’, did ye see wha’s wrong wit’ Simon? Saw ‘im stompin’ in an’- bleedin’ ‘ell, hen, are ye okey?” Johnny bursts through the door covered in dirt and sweat—he had been in the garden pulling weeds for you and must have seen Simon’s demeanor before he went in the house—immediately falling to his knees when he sees the state you’re in.

“He- I- he’s never-” you ramble through tears, unable to look your beloved Scotsman in the eyes even as he lifts you into his arms.

“Och, it’s alreit, lass, le’s ge’ ye tae bed,” Johnny coos, carrying you up the stairs and into his own bedroom.

Johnny cautiously pulls the covers back and lays you down, making sure you’re comfortable. The contrast of his gentleness and Simon’s indifference makes your chest tighten painfully. It hurts being treated so poorly, especially by someone who swore he would never cause you any harm. It makes you feel icky, wrong.

“Talk tae me, hen,” Johnny insists as he strips off his dirty clothes, stealing a glance at you every so often.

When you shake your head, he frowns, flipping his shirt inside out to rub the grime off of his face. He decides he’s clean enough to get under the covers with you, pulling you close and rubbing random circles all over your skin. Johnny’s always been such a reverent lover. In every graze of his fingertips, every touch that causes a shiver throughout your body, you can feel his devotion.

“Please?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your nose, then the corner of your mouth.

“Simon pushed me,” you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed by this entire ordeal.

“Oh, bonnie girl,” he coos, pulling back to look at you. “Ah ken he can be a reit arse.”

“I just wanted to hug him because he seemed sad, b-but he just… he pushed me down. He’s never done that before,” you sniffle, tears gathering in your waterline for the umpteenth time.

“M’sorry, hen, ye didnae deserve tha’. Simon jus’... well, sometimes he lets ‘is brain ge’ the best o’im. Doesnae ‘appen tae often bu’ when it does, changes ‘im,” Johnny explains, cupping your face in his big hands.

“I just wanna sleep it off,” you sigh sadly.

“Ah promise, when ye wake up, it’ll all be back tae normal,” Johnny carefully tucks your face into the crook of his neck and wraps an arm around your soft waist.

It takes no time for you to fall asleep in his arms, your soft snores making him smile to himself. Your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip puckers out when he presses dozens of kisses to your face. Johnny cracks his neck and settles his body in, about to join you in your nap, when there’s a soft knock at his door. He lifts his head slightly, one eye open to look at whoever just walked in.

“Is she asleep?” Simon asks gruffly, looking undone.

“Aye,” Johnny responds quietly.

“Can- can I come in and ‘old her?”

Johnny’s heart breaks all over again at the tone in his lover’s voice. He waves Simon over, shuffling further in the bed to make room. He adjusts you on his chest as the blond settles in next to him so he could be by the both of you. One huge, scarred hand rests on the small of your back right below the Scot’s.

“Ye feelin’ better?” Johnny questions in a murmur, his free hand wrapping around the back of Simon’s head to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Simon nods but doesn’t elaborate any further. His gaze is focused on your peaceful face and his chest tightens at the knowledge that he hurt you. Johnny doesn’t allow him to spiral, pulling him down into a slow, tender kiss.

“She’s alreit, ye ken,” he whispers against the older man’s lips. “Kno’s ye didnae mean it.”

“I feel awful,” Simon frowns, nuzzling his crooked nose against Johnny’s jaw. “Too good f’me, all o’ya.”

“Si?” Your small, croaky voice startles both men.

“Here, sweet girl,” he responds instantly.

You yawn as he cups one cheek in his palm, leaning into his touch without hesitation.

“Missed you,” you mutter, opening your eyes just long enough to look at him with a lazy smile.

His heart skips a beat, and tears flood his eyes. He leans forward to press his lips to your temple, resting his head on the opposite side of Johnny’s chest to face you. The younger man grins as he gently massages both you and Simon’s shoulders, happy that both of his loves are finally at peace.

“Missed ya, too,” Simon sniffles, intertwining your fingers with his.

[haikyu-mp4]

Cooling down – Iwaizumi x reader wc 968 – f!reader hockey player x figure skater au

warning: toxic boyfriend Iwa who eventually gets his shit together

“I don’t like it,” Iwaizumi grumbled, the bench rumbling as he sat down. It felt like the equivalent of a child stomping.

No matter how much you loved your boyfriend, you realised lately that he didn’t have the same respect for figure skating as he did for hockey. While fighting on the ice was a respectable part of his sport, dancing with a male partner was apparently not a respectable part of yours.

You sighed and turned away without another word, demonstrating your own temperament in the way you skated up to Oikawa, your male partner for the rest of the semester, and quickly held up your arms to signal for him that no more words would be exchanged on the matter. Had you been in an anime, Oikawa would have visible sweat on the side of his face from the tension alone.

Iwaizumi stayed quiet for the most part, never once looking away and eventually crossing his arms to make sure you knew he wasn’t happy. Meanwhile, you kept a neutral face as if it didn’t bother you at all, even smiling at Oikawa from time to time in hopes it would calm him down.

Which worked very well until it didn’t.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi yelled at a particular lift where Oikawa had to support your bum while you moved around. The male figure skater lost his focus, taking in a sharp breath just as he lost his hold. You did your best to recover, almost catching yourself, but the speed of the move had you tumbling to the ground anyway. After you landed with an ouf, Oikawa quickly rushed to check on you.

Predictably, he was shoved out of the way. You groaned at the ache in your shoulder but spared some energy to glare at your boyfriend.

“Are you okay, baby?” he cooed. He didn’t give you much choice as he helped you up, but you didn’t answer. Back on your feet, you looked around to find Oikawa looking on guiltily. You smiled at him as convincingly as possible before waving him over to you. “What are you doing? Let me help you,” Iwaizumi urged and held your hand. Oikawa followed your lead to support you, advancing towards the entrance. You glanced back at Iwaizumi, shaking your head.

“I need a break. From us.”

You hadn’t talked to Iwaizumi since then. The distance clawed at your heart, but it gave you the mental space to focus on this competition with Oikawa. Of course, he never made advances on you; you were just friends.

“Is he coming to see the performance tonight?” he asked as you were cooling down after the final rehearsal.

You shrugged looking to the side as if he would come storming in. “I hope so.”

Iwaizumi’s hands were tucked deep in his pockets as he entered the arena, looking around for a seat where he could be alone but still have a good view. At the same time, his eyes were scanning the crowds for any sign of you.

Alas, you were nowhere to be found. The only clue he had was the flyer they handed him when he entered, picturing all the contestants. He dared scowl at the picture of you and Oikawa but shook his head to rid of the thought. Maybe he didn’t understand why you chose to compete in this event, but like hell he’d miss it.

While his heart begged him to do something when you got on the ice, he appreciated the performance from a respectful distance just like everyone else did, clapping more than necessary any time the crowd seemed to agree on it.

Thoughts swirled inside his head, and while they were usually shaped like hockey sticks and pucks, they just calling your name now. How amazing were you to skate like that? Why had he not been kissing the ground you walk on? You’re the most gorgeous person he had ever seen, and perhaps he forgot that in the midst of knowing you were already his.

The bouquet resting in his lap wasn’t as big as the one you got for winning second place, but it did contain all your favourites. As he got up from his seat at the end of the event, he was shaking his body to loosen the nerves, careful of the flowers in his right hand. He made his way toward the hallway you had gone down, not giving anyone attention if they weren’t the one he was looking for.

“Y/n.”

You turned, the skirt of your costume swishing with you. Giving your friends a heads up that you would meet them outside, you finally approached him. “Haji.”

Iwaizumi held out the flowers and cleared his throat, feeling out of his element. “Congratulations. You were first place in my eyes, I can’t believe I never took the time to watch you.” He shook his head, thinking back to when he insisted on watching so Oikawa wouldn’t try anything. “Properly watch you, I mean.”

Sighing, you smiled softly and accepted the flowers before pulling him into a hug with your free arm. He embraced you with both of his, snuggling his face into your neck and leaving a brief peck.

“I knew you puckheads were stupid, but if you ever disrespect me like that again…” you warned, but still returned the affection with a kiss on his cheek.

He took a deep breath of relief, rubbing where his hands sat at the low of your back. “You got it, boss. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from these guys.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa greeted from behind him, and you chuckled at how Iwaizumi’s shoulders raised. “I could teach you any time. Dating the hottest girl in town and you can’t even-”

Okay, maybe Oikawa was asking for this one.

masterlist

[cypresswood3]

You know what. Lemme share my opinions on Malevolent shippers. Not the ships themselves. The people.

Starting off strong, Dollins shippers are somehow the nicest and coziest people out there. You guys sometimes come up with the craziest stuff but. You know the perfect balance between treating these characters and their traumas seriously AND writing them like an old classic Tom-and-Jerry-like cartoon. They are goofy and cute and smell like home. One's a killer for hire and the other is a tortured-by-eldrich-beings detective and you manage to make it into a romcom. I have nothing but respect for Dollins shippers. You are so good to your characters. Like an opposite of Kayne. You smell of fresh pie.

Parkthur shippers are like... the adults of the fandom? I'm not sure how to put it. Yall are mature. You explore parkthur to hell and back. The way you write their relationship is always full comradery and love in its purest form. Not traumabonded like Noel and Arthur, not dependant like blind faith, not brought together by trials like jarthur, but not quite as domestic as dollins. Parkthur is always very real and very human. I'm honestly a big fan of parkthur myself. Arthur's backstory was always the more interesting part of the lore for me (breaking my silence I've always loved Arthur more than John and it'll remain so). So you guys. You guys are the big siblings of the fandom.

Arthur and Noel shippers... I've honestly only seen it done as Arthur x Noel x John. And I love that. You guys hold so much love for Noel it almost makes me tear up. The way you write your stuff feels more of a Noel's good ending then jarthur's. And it's not a complaint in the slightest. You take jarthur and you fit Noel in so well and smooth he actually fixes them. You make Noel jarthur's home and family, and you make them his anchors. You guys are full of hope. When it comes to John x Noel (Arthur is there third wheeling or smth)... You guys are like dollins shippers witht their comfy domestic vibes, but you have an additional sprinkle of... healing. You love your John and Noel and treat them so so well, but it's less of a silly cartoony thing (like dollins) and more of a... story of rediscovery and, again, healing. You have a domestic vibe of a comfort book. Also you create the most insane things when you're horny /very pos.

Blind faith aka Arthur and Oscar shippers. Guys are you okay. It's a banger ship but guys. Guys how are we feeling. Have you tasted anything but tears in the last... forever? You create the most touching and soul crushing pieces of fan-creations but it takes you all your happiness to do so. You embrace the sad the same way Arkayne-ists embrace the horny. Even when you make them happy they're still engulfed in an aura of melancholy. You can write them in a good ending au and it still tastes bitter. And I don't mean it as a bad thing. You guys write Oscar and Arthur like they're doomed Sea and Moon yuri and I fuck with it. So hard. Yall are insanely talented. But also insanely sad. Do you guys want a cookie.

Arkayne. I'm convinced that all Arkayne shippers are actually Kayne's alternative accounts. Yall are ruthless but in the best way possible. Going through Malevolent you either defaultly ship jarthur or arkayne and I have nothing but awe for those whose heart calls for arkayne. I love your fics, guys. Having them in my browser history is incriminating but god. You really look at everyone else and cackle maniacally because you can do anything. Yall can go as crazy as humanly possible and that would still be Kayne. I love arkayne shippers because yall are genuinely so so fun. Yall are the type of people wh didn't drown their sims in pools. Because it was old and boring. Your ghosts were all colors of the rainbow because yall went overboard with your stuff. Honestly same.

Larson and Yellow shippers are quiet and almost unnoticeable but they make the most jaw-dropping gut-wrenching fanfiction known to man. They take Yellow and sink their teeth into him ruthlessly. Where John fans dissect him with care and patience, Yellow enjoyers tear him apart and drag the raw still-beating heart out of him. Whereas other shippers make stuff with hope, your works are embraced in a stench of doom. And it's sweet but in a way rotten flesh is sweet. You take Larson and Yellow and ask the question, can they see salvation and become better together? Then you make them try through blood and sweat and tears and tell them NO. And it leaves them both in agony. And it leaves me in agony. "Raw" is really the best word that comes to mind to describe you. I love you but please stop hurting me.

Larthur idk never saw anyone ship it but if someone does delete your account lmao. Freaks.

There is like a dozen more ships you can make but I've only yapped about the most prominent ones. Will make a part two if there's stuff I genuinely forgot or can yap about. It's 4 am please don't be hard on me if I missed something ultra obvious. It'll come to me.

And jarthur shippers. You think I forgot that don't you. I didn't. It's a fully conscious decision.

[masochistic-decaying-corpse]

Okay I'm probably gonna sound crazy but aren't we all crazy in the end?

Tw for triggering shit, talk of split identities, sh, ed, self esteem issues, etc.

Okay so yall know me. I'm Dagger, Daggs. A few of you know my dead name, Hailee. If you regularly inhabit my blog every one of yall knows what has happened to me in at least vague details.

Yall also probably know that I'm obviously a little fucked in the head. Hell, very fucked in the head. That I'm aggressive, violent, I've never hid that part of me.

I've become yalls scary guard dog :}

Though I'd like to tell ya something I've never even really admitted to myself out loud, if that makes sense. At least, until recently.

I've made jokes about people living in my head. They're not jokes. Especially since they have fucking personalities and pet peeves. They're people.

Why the fuck am I talking in plural? Theres only the one. Xavier. Likes to be called Demon.

Now, it's not like DID, or maybe it is idk but it's not like he takes over, more like he bleeds though.

The trauma fucked me up. And it created him. He's the part of me that kept going when little Hailee just couldn't.

Over time our personalities have kinda morphed into what I am now. I may be called Hailee by my dad, my brother, anyone who knows me in person, but Hailee is dead. Demon tried to heal her, almost succeeded, but then my dad starting doing what he did and when it ended I guess she just couldnt take it.

Though, of course, our body remains. So we took over. I'm Dagger, the byproduct of the trauma, the 'death' of who she was. Demon and I kinda became one. He's the violent one, Hailee was a soft sweetheart. Demon was violent, so I became violent. Aggressive, durable, the opposite of fragile and soft like she was. This world is an ugly place, and I'm sorry she had to experience that. Hell even now some of her bleeds through. I age regress, I have breakdowns and panic attacks, major anxiety and attachment issues, self esteem problems. I hurt myself, I have no regard for safely. I feel a limited range of emotions, most often I'm numb.

Demon is a fighter, I shadow box and punch shit when I'm pissed. And yet, when I'm about to do something I'll regret, or that will hurt us, he's always there to stop me. The times my dad held a gun to my head, he wanted so badly to break through, to snap his neck for that, but I didnt let him. Hes protective of us, I've grown protective of my people. My people, the ones I trust and will protect no matter the cost. Al, Lav, Motti, Jinx, Eli, Neeks, Spike, Cam, Leo, Toast, Ben. My darling, Dice.

My pack of people I've grown to care for. I'd burn the world for you all and then I'd rebuild it better.

If you're still here, I'm sorry you had to read all of that but I just wanted someone to fucking know the truth. The whole damn truth. If that's too much for you, I wouldn't blame you for never wanting anything to do with me again, like I said I probably sound crazy.

That is my story. Hailee, Demon, Dagger.

The fucked up trio that formed what I am now. Welcome to my life, hope you don't think im a head case now.

[inkieflame]

Writing prompt: One of Lizzie's worst renting outings and the aftermath

Maybe you’re right, and maybe have been used up (By another man’s hungry hands)

A Lizzie oneshot (also featuring Joel)

Word count: 2000

Trigger warnings: implied SA, pregnancy and miscarriage, morning sickness, mental instability, mentioned forced surgeries

Aka: Lizzie has a bad day, a weird week, and dissociates from her problems.

Author’s note: this came out longer than I intended and I still don’t think I did it justice, so there will probably be a part two to this. And seriously! Listen to the content warnings! They are important for this one!

Additionally, Lizzie and Joel are both fae. And Lizzie copes with trauma by pretending her problems aren’t there, trying to convince herself that she is back home.

Lizzie doesn’t remember most of her rental.

She comes forcefully back to reality during transportation. There is a bitter aftertaste in the back of her throat, and her insides feels like they’ve been violently rearranged. She doesn’t want to think about it, but the motion of the vehicle is making her feel sicker by the minute.

She looks down at her hands, hoping to distract herself. Her perfectly painted nails haven’t faltered, except for one that broke. She wonders, distantly, if she fought back this time.

She feels bruised all over, so maybe she did. Maybe she fought back. But even if she did, she clearly lost in the end.

The van lurches to a stop, making Lizzie gag as her stomach rebels from the sudden movement. She swallows down the vile taste again.

The Watcher unlock her door and walk her from the parking space to the main part of the lab again. She struggles to walk. Her legs are weak.

Joel is waiting for her, and when he sees her, there is a flash of rage that crosses his face. Fae teeth as sharp as scalpels. Lizzie recoils, despite knowing that expression is not directed at her.

Joel approaches her softly, cautiously, as though she is a pristine glass sculpture he both adores and is terrified of breaking. She is wrapped in his arms, and lifted, and held, and carried all the way back to his room. She hides her face in the crook of his neck. It is warm and safe.

The lights in the rooms they pass are all off, and Lizzie wonders what time it is. So late, she knows. Two or three in the morning. Joel should be asleep.

But instead he is laying her out on his bed, and gently coaxing her top off. He is murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re safe now, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you, I love you, you’re okay.” But it is clear from the tremble in his voice he’s trying to convince himself too.

Lizzie tries to believe him.

But she has had too many people tell her, “I’ve got you, I love you” for her to really believe it right now.

He hands her his water bottle. She gingerly takes it, and drinks until th bottle is empty, washing away that awful taste. He watches her, wings fluttering anxiously.

She hands it back to him.

“Thank you.” She tries to say, but her voice is totally wreaked and she’s not sure if he heard her.

“I’ve got one of Pearl’s sweaters, here.” He hands it to her, soft, folded and pink. “It’s your favorite color.”

Lizzie takes it and pulls it over herself. It wraps her in cotton candy clouds and sweetness. Her wings tuck softly against her back. She sighs and lays back on the bed.

Joel leans and kisses her forehead, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get ice for the bruises.” He says softly, and he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Lizzie is immediately yanked into a restless sleep.

…

She wakes up with her cheek resting against Joel’s chest. She can feel his breath rising and falling underneath her. He has one arm wrapped around her and buried in her pink and brown hair.

On the nightstand next to them, she can see a lukewarm icepack and his abandoned water bottle.

She curls into her husband, into the pink wool sweater around her shoulders. He is still asleep. One hand rests on his chest, silver wedding band glittering on his ring finger.

Lizzie lays her hand next to his. The size difference would be daunting if she wasn’t so sure he would protect her. She ignores how her own hand is missing a matching ring.

She notices that her broken nail has been clipped down the base. She smiles, knowing that Joel was attentive when he cleaned her up after she fell asleep.

She closes her eyes, smiling into his side as she falls back asleep.

…

Lizzie’s next rental, five weeks later, is another painting project. It is nothing she is scared of, but she still feels sick for several days leading up to it.

Unexplained nausea and vomiting. She is clearly nervous, but she didn’t know why. She knows this renter, he is safe, he is fine.

She will get to be outside again. It is only a week-long rental, which isn’t very long compared to some of the bigger projects he’s had her work on, but it will be nice at least. To see the sun. To breath warm air.

She is still nervous the first morning with the renter, in his own house this time, not a hotel room. He wanted a mural painted on the accent wall of his kitchen.

He pulled the windows open so the room could air out and dry the paint. Lizzie can smell the wet dew and lingering hints of the apple pie the renter’s wife had made last night. Then she cracks open the paint cans and the chemical smell masks it.

She gags involuntarily, which is weird because she’s done a lot of painting, and the smell is familiar to her. She doesn’t know why it makes her stomach churn now.

During the week spent on the kitchen mural, Lizzie throws up three times. The renter says it’s alright, and tells her to rest because surely she’s sick, or maybe she ate something wrong. He pays for her to stay an extra few days because he doesn’t want her to push herself.

She stays in the guest bedroom, with ice water and chocolate whenever she wants it, and she’s only interrupted by the renter’s three-year old daughter coming in to say hi.

Despite feeling ill, the mural is finished on time. Meanwhile her renter emails the facility to ask if she has allergies that might have caused this reaction. Lizzie doesn’t have any allergies that she knows of.

On her last day, the renter’s wife approaches her with a little white box, and Lizzie hates that her suspicions might be right.

She takes the test an hour before the Watchers pick her up, and tucks it into her pocket without reading the results.

…

Lizzie is fine.

She’s so fine in fact, even though she doesn’t remember her room being so small, and she’s not sure why Scott is at her house, and half her pillows and blankets have gone missing.

“let me make you something.” Lizzie says to him. She is nothing if not a good friend and host, “you look hungry, have you been eating?”

Scott winces, and ignores the question, “You’ve been hiding in your room all day.” He starts, “people are, uh, we miss you.”

Lizzie stares at him, “Joel and Jimmy? They were just here.”

“not just them,” Scott says, “The group of us. Cleo and Bigb? They keep asking where you are.”

Lizzie tilts her head, “Who are Cleo and Bigb?” she asks.

Scott sighs, as though he’s realizing something that Lizzie doesn’t know, “your friends, Lizzie.” He says, “you’re in here all day and they wish you would come hang out with them.” He pauses, “did something weird happen during your rental? Even on days like this, you’re at least social.”

“The doctor told me to rest.” Lizzie says. “nothing too strenuous for months.” And Lizzie will take the doctor seriously, because she can’t do this again. She can’t lose another one.

Scott frowns, “months?” he echos, “why- and what doctor? The Watchers? We’re you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.” Lizzie says, “I’m fine, I just need to be careful now. It’s bad for the baby.”

A look of horror crosses Scott’s face, but Lizzie doesn’t know why. Surely Joel told him they were having a baby. Scott should be excited for them.

Instead he shakes his head, taking deep breaths, “You’re not yourself right now.” Scott says, “making things up again. Bad memory.”

But Lizzie is very familiar with the little white test in her pocket, and very sure of what the results are:

two red lines.

…

Joel is in a nightmare.

Because he’s been here before. He’s seen her morning sickness and everything that comes with it. He’s seen ultrasounds, he’s heard heartbeats.

But that was his baby.

And as sure as Lizzie is that this one is also his, he knows it’s a figment of her episode. He knows the timing isn’t right. He knows.

But a few days have passed, and her episode is still going, and Joel has worried she’s disassociated so much she won’t ever come back to him.

The Watchers are running tests. Joel tries not to wonder about who the father is. Whoever it is, she’s definitely not faking this. It’s real. And she’s so happy about it too.

“I know the last one was hard, but I’ll be better this time.” She tells him, “This one will make it.”

That’s what hurts so much. Because Joel knows he would be happy too, if only it was any other circumstance. He would be the first to plan a baby shower. And to offer up names. And Lizzie would paint the bedroom pink or blue. And there would be a little white crib she would paint flowers on too. And Jimmy would tell everyone he was going to be an uncle, proud as ever. And Scott would show up with a dozen tiny outfits, all colors and joy. And Oli would play Lizzie music and swear the baby can hear it too. And it would be a sunshine baby. And it would be okay. It would be perfect. It would be.

But it’s not.

…

There are no heartbeats.

It confuses Lizzie because there was a heartbeat during her last visit to the doctor. There had been a heartbeat.

The masked doctors tell her about birth control, and how you can’t take it while pregnant, and how you shouldn’t be too stressed or it could be bad. But Lizzie isn’t really listening.

Instead she is listening for a heartbeat.

She will never hear it.

…

On the bright side, there are no baby blue walls to paint over. There is no crib to push into the attic until next time. There are no baby clothes to fold and pack away.

They do still need to tell Jimmy, but he has seen this type of heartache before, just like them, so he’ll be okay eventually, just like them.

The test that had been sitting on Lizzie’s nightstand for weeks is thrown away.

And the facility is quiet.

…

Soon after, Cleo and Pearl have an appointment with the Watchers to have their tubes tied. Pearl lets it happen without a fight. Cleo bites and screams, and she cries when they wakes up from the operation.

This will never happen again, the Watchers will make sure of that.

…

Lizzie feels numb.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “maybe next time.” “at least you don’t have to raise them here.”

But Lizzie can’t tell who’s saying what to her. She just feels numb and numb, empty and empty.

And when she can pull her head over the rising waves of nothingness, the gasps of air she manages are filled with grief and guilt.

“it’s not your fault.”

That one is from Joel, she knows because he keeps staying it as she falls asleep. She has no idea if he’s even talking to her, or if he’s trying to soothe himself.

“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault,” but it FEELS like her fault. If she had done something better, or different, or, or-

And then she falls back under the next wave of nothingness and she’s numb again.

She thinks maybe she was never meant to be a mother. Maybe she has failed Joel.

Maybe she has been ruined by some other man’s hungry hands.

Author’s note: I’ve never written about these topics before, so I hope I did it well. This will probably get a part two, cuz I want to focus on the long term trauma, and also how others like Jimmy react to everything. ALSO! If anyone has any advice on how I could write this better, please please please help. I want to do it justice!

[legalmente-loca]

They Were Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You sacrificed your life for humanity twice. Days later you find yourself in an unknown room and with your memory lost. You must not overlook any details since it could be a lie. The most important thing that occupies the center of your head is to discover who he is... Who is that man named Dean Winchester.

They Were Real Masterlist

Word Count: 2,863

Tags/Warnings: blood, angst

Part 3: Beg for yourself or for others?

The doorbell rang, but you paid no attention. You were focused on a tree you were staring at through the window. There was nothing special about it, just… You were watching it.

“Sis.” Charlie touched your shoulder, and you turned to look at her. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“No. What happened?”

“John and the girls are here.”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Charlie.

“You sure you’re okay to go out?”

“I’m fine.”

“You better not be lying to me.”

She patted my shoulder and pointed at me before disappearing down the hallway. You sighed and walked up the stairs to the bunker door. When you opened it, John, Alex, and Chloe were standing on the other side.

“Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi, girls.”

You bent down to hug them and kiss them on the cheek. You sat back and said hello to John.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“As good as can be,” You replied. “And you?”

“Fine.” He nodded, smiling.

“So… Where are we going?”

“To the park!” Chloe responded enthusiastically.

You hoped it wasn’t that same park…

“Shall we?”

“Sure.”

John extended his hand, and you hesitated whether to accept it or not. You were supposed to be divorced.

Seeing that you didn’t make a move, John combed his hair with the same hand, uncomfortable with the situation. You started walking with the girls between you.

Alex held your hand, and you watched that action tenderly. To her, you were her mom… In fact, you were her mom. It felt strange to say that.

You arrived at the park, and John and you sat down while watching the girls play.

“We always liked coming to this park,” John told me.

“It’s very nice.”

He nodded and returned his gaze to the girls. Your attention was caught by the carousel, which was now a few feet in front of you. Its annoying music was making itself felt, and it was starting to spin the same way it always did, going nowhere. You used to admire it, but now you see it as irritating.

“The girls love that carousel,” John commented as he pointed at it, noticing your gaze fixed on it.

“Have the girls been there yet?”

“Of course,” he affirmed. “It’s one of our favorite activities we do as a family- which we used to do.” He corrected himself.

You remained silent for a moment, tying up loose ends. This park is important to the four of us, as is the carousel…

“Have we been here before? Just by ourselves, I mean.”

“Why the question?”

“Curiosity.”

He thought about it for a few seconds and smiled.

“Yes, we've been here before.”

“How was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“A specific time, perhaps?”

“I don't understand-”

“Just tell me if seven years ago you paid double to have the carousel to ourselves for an entire night.”

He looked at you in confusion, but ended up nodding, straightening up and scratching his chin.

“That's right.”

So it was him all along. There was no history between you and Dean. All those feelings you had in that memory… John had been responsible.

So it was true that you had made everything up…

There never was anything between you and Clint. It was all a fabrication in your head to fill the empty spaces in your memory.

“Are you okay?” John asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yes…” You nodded. “I'm fine.”

But if you had felt so good with John, then… what had been the reason for your divorce?

You sighed and leaned back against the backrest.

“Why did we get divorced?” You asked suddenly.

It took him a few seconds to answer.

“I don't know. It was your decision.”

“You didn't want it?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head. “I can't know the happiness of other men…” He looked at you. “But I'm sure none of them compared to mine when we were together.”

He returned his gaze to the girls.

What had been your reason for getting divorced?

You returned home.

“It was a lot of fun!”

“I'm glad you had a good time, girls.”

“When will we be back?”

John looked at you, knowing you probably weren't in very good shape. Luckily for you, Charlie arrived.

“Hey, girls! Did you have fun?”

“A lot!”

“I missed hanging out with both of you!” Alex pointed out.

Charlie nodded as a smile spread across her face. Her gaze fell on John.

“Hey, John.”

You noticed some displeasure in her voice.

“Charlie.” John greeted.

There seemed to be some dislike between the two of them. You turned to Charlie.

“So… did anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing big. You took all the fun with you, sis.”

You both laughed, and John interrupted you.

“I'm sorry, but… Can I go to the bathroom?”

“You can use the one in my room.” You replied.

“Thanks.” He said, nodding his head.

You can’t say his attitude didn’t catch your attention.

“I have to admit it. I never liked him that much.” Charlie whispered to you.

“Really? Why?”

“Just his way of being.”

“So, why did I marry him?”

“Girl,” Charlie looked at you with amusement. “You stopped caring about my opinion a long time ago.”

“That’s kind of hard to believe.” You smiled.

“Not for me.”

“Aunt!” Chloe grabbed her hand. “Wanna play with us?”

She looked at you, seeking your approval.

“Go. You shouldn’t care about my opinion. I’ll go see John.”

Charlie gave you a thumbs up and Chloe dragged her a few feet further. You sighed and walked toward your room, wanting to know the reason for John’s delay. You entered your room and saw him right there, in front of the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, walking slowly toward him.

He turned around, scared. His expression changed completely, and he smiled at you.

“Nothing.”

You tried to look behind him to see what he was looking at. As far as you knew, there was nothing interesting on top of that piece of furniture.

“Where are the girls?” He asked, trying to hide behind him.

“With Charlie.” You walked over until you were standing in front of him.

“How about we go back to them?” He placed both hands on your arms, trying to stop you from moving forward.

“Let me through, John.” You spoke calmly.

“Honey, let's go back. There's nothing to see here.”

“Move or I'll move you,” you threatened.

John seemed surprised by your change of attitude. He lowered his gaze to the ground and stepped aside. You glanced at him and took a couple more steps.

You noticed a framed photograph on the small piece of furniture. You held it in your hands and examined it closely. You didn't remember this being there before.

The photograph was of John and you. You were standing in front of what appeared to be a tree, smiling at the camera, which you were holding.

“They told me it was best if you remembered for yourself. And I didn't know if that meant not showing you the photo.”

You ran your fingers over John's photographed face. There was something...

“Where are we?” You asked, referring to the photo.

“We were in a forest. We left for a few days, worrying the others.”

"How long ago was this?" You ran your fingers over his face.

"It's been... about eight years."

So this photograph could be from a year before the carousel.

But there was something else…

“Come on, baby…”

You nodded, stunned. You put the photograph back and turned around, looking at John.

“Too much has happened, and I don't know what or who to trust anymore.”

He walked over to you and gently cupped your cheeks. It wasn't an action you were used to… But his touch felt so good at that moment.

“You can trust me completely.”

And right there, holding your face in John's hands, you realized you trusted him.

He slowly brought his face closer to yours. Maybe this was too quick, but the truth was, you knew him and had two daughters with him. John wasn't a stranger... You could trust him. You had a whole love story, but you didn't know the reason for its abrupt end.

When your lips were inches away from touching, you felt déjà vu...

“I love you.”

You took a few steps away from John.

“I love you more.”

You heard the voices in your head...

“How far?”

“Honey?” John called, his tone concerned. “What's wrong?”

You couldn't answer. You could barely distinguish his voice from the others.

“How big is the universe?”

You held your head in both hands and screamed. This was pure torture.

“Infinity.”

“Sister?” I think it was Charlie's voice...

You heard her hurried footsteps coming toward you.

“Exactly...”

“Hey, calm down! I'm here... I'm here.”

You felt her pull you into his chest and squeeze you tightly.

The voices didn't stop...

“Once you say something like that, you can't take it back.”

“Go get Bobby!”

You could barely understand what was happening around you. You just closed your eyes and put more and more pressure on your head.

“I don't plan on doing that.”

You screamed again, feeling those voices inside your head. Charlie held you tighter.

“I hope so.”

“You'll be okay... You'll be okay.”

Charlie rocked you, trying to calm you down. But nothing would.

“What will we do after all this?”

You started to cry without knowing why…

“We'll go wherever we want…”

“What are you saying about… Traveling the whole world and observing the stars from different points of view?”

“What happened?” You heard Bobby say.

“We'll travel the whole world and observe the stars from different points of view…”

“I don't know… I don't know” John replied desperately. “She just… Collapsed.”

“Promise?”

“What did you do to her?!” Charlie rebuked him.

“I didn't do anything to her! It just happened!”

“I promise you…”

The voices stopped. You jumped up and ran to a corner, scaring the others.

“It's in my head.” You didn't even look at any specific spot. “I couldn't stop it. I tried, but…”

“Hey, what do you mean?” Sam asked, having entered the room behind Bobby. “What's in your head?”

You looked at him, terror etched in your eyes.

“The memories… The voices…”

“Oh, my God,” Charlie exclaimed, covering her mouth with both hands.

You looked at her in confusion.

“Stay where you are…”

“What’s going on?”

“Calm down…”

John cautiously approached you.

“I don’t understand—”

You felt fluid running down your jaw and onto your neck. You touched it with two fingers and looked at it…

It was blood…

“Hey, calm down…”

You looked up at the voice. Dean pushed his way through everyone as he approached carefully.

“What’s happening to me?”

“I don’t know… But I promise we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

You looked again at the blood on your fingers. None of them knew what was going on. Maybe they thought they knew, but they didn’t. You looked back at Dean.

“I don’t believe you.” You muttered before fainting.

You woke up in a completely white room. You sat up, beginning to remember what had happened minutes before. You touched your ear, but there was no trace of blood anywhere.

“I have a feeling…”

“What?” You asked.

There was no one else in the room but you.

“That doesn't mean anything.” It was a different voice.

You got out of bed and looked around the room.

“You know it does… And I have a machete to prove it.”

There was a conversation between a woman and a man, but you still didn't see anyone. Those voices weren't in your head… It was really happening. You spun around, trying to figure out a way out.

“I won't let you do this!”

The voice echoed throughout the room. You stopped spinning when you came across a door that hadn't been there before. It was red, impossible to miss in this white room.

“And I won't let you do it!”

The voices seemed to be coming from the other side. You walked over to it and took the handle in your hand.

“Then you leave me no choice…”

It was almost a whisper, but you could hear those words clearly.

“Same here.”

You turned the handle and opened the door. It was a strange place, like some kind of abandoned factory.

“Don't make me do this.”

You walked to the center of it, rubbing your arms as they suddenly felt cold.

“Then don't do it.”

You noticed the silhouettes of two people, but you still couldn't tell who they were.

“We still have to travel the world together.” That voice seemed on the verge of breaking.

“You'll do it for both of us.” It was the woman speaking.

You leaned closer and were surprised to realize it was Dean and you.

“It wouldn't be the same.”

“Oh, Dean.” You stroked his cheek with a hand.

“I can't let you die. I can't... I can't...”

“And I can't let you either.”

You tried to touch your shoulder, but your hand only passed through your other body.

“You're the person I've been looking for my whole life... You can't leave now.”

You looked closely at Dean. He looked nothing like the man he was now.

“And you're the person with whom I built an empire of memories…”

You scratched your head, thinking about what your other self had just said.

That entire empire had collapsed, leaving you without a single memory in your possession…

You were surprised to see yourself like that… So… Full of life and in love. Especially in love.

“So I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to do.”

Dean looked at her in confusion, as did you. Suddenly, she kicked his leg, causing Dean to fall backward onto the ground.

“No, wait.” He whispered.

Your other self turned and started running, away from him. You couldn't understand why she was doing that. As far as you could remember, you would never have given your life for anyone.

Dean quickly sat up and ran after you. He caught up with you and grabbed your arm firmly, causing you to fall backward and gasp. You looked down at yourself and knelt beside her.

“Stay there.” You told her.

She exchanged glances with Dean, who was running.

“Why are you doing this? He's not worth it...”

Your other self sighed, making you think she'd come to her senses. But instead, she stood up and jumped over Dean, sending the two of you tumbling a few feet.

“No... Why are you doing this?” You asked, even though you knew she wasn't listening. “How much does he mean to you?” You pointed at him.

“It's so powerful... That you'd be willing to die for him.”

The specter that had been hovering in the shadows appeared and stood by your side. It was a woman, her voice soft and feminine. She was wearing a long black dress, her sharp gaze on yours.

“What are you talking about?”

“You love him.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never loved anyone.”

“That’s what you think. But look again and see if that’s really true.” She gestured to the scene.

You returned your gaze to them, or rather, to Dean and you.

“I won’t leave you…”

“You will.” You told him with a sad smile.

“No… I need you… Don’t leave me…”

You could hear the pain in his voice.

“Everything will be okay…”

“No…”

“Please.”

You'd promised yourself years ago that you'd never beg for anything. If you wanted something, you were going to get it. If you were about to die, then you would die. But this was different. You weren't begging to live... You were begging to die.

“We'll keep making memories and grow our empire.”

“Please...” You repeated.

No, you were wrong. You weren't begging to die. You were begging to die in his place.

“I can't do this.”

“Then don't.” Your other self whispered.

“I love you...”

“And I love you...”

But Dean tried to struggle, but it was no use. You held his hands and pulled a pair of handcuffs from your belt, placing them on one hand and hooking the other side to a piece of furniture next to his head.

“No! No, please!” But you were already moving away.

You watched yourself, walking without looking back.

“You loved him so much that the first time you died, you did it for him.”

“The first time?”

Of course… The second time, you had killed God, but it had cost you your life.

“I don't understand this feeling.” You continued. “Why would I die for someone? I just… I can't feel it or… Or understand it…”

“The same way you did it the first time, you'll figure out how to do it a second time.”

You reflected on what had just happened as you watched Dean, who was still struggling with the handcuffs, hurting his wrists. He was completely devastated. How did you ever manage to make someone love you so intensely? How did you manage to fall in love so intensely?

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[deadite-central]

SPOILERS FOR WANO ACT THREE!

Yeah I got nothing to say this time let’s get started

Like I said in the previous post, I adore everything about Yamato’s and Kaido’s fight. The idea of how much Yamato was inspired by Oden, and how his father did everything to take that away from him is displayed here fully. Kaido treated him with nothing but cruelty for most of his life, and for what? Because his child admired someone he himself believed to be incredibly strong and honourable? Yamato rightfully calls out his father on everything he’s done to ruin his life, and it feels so earned, and even if he knows he can’t win, he’ll make sure Luffy has the chance to defeat him

Okay I don’t know if this is a well known fact but I adore Hawkins. He’s genuinely one of my favorite characters in the entire series, and his fight with Killer gives him so much time to shine. He’s incredibly smart, not allowing himself to be attacked head on due to using Kidd’s life as one of his straw dolls, and he seems to be in control of the fight up until Killer also decides to pull a trick and slashes his arm off, the one arm Kidd didn’t have. The true icing on the cake for this fight is when Hawkins pulls out the Tower card, which if you know anything about Tarot is the last negative aspect you’d want to pull out in a situation like this

Continuing the pattern from before, about the fact everyone gets their time to shine, I lean FINALLY talk about Sanji’s struggle that stemmed from his relying on the Germa raid suit, he worries he’s turning into someone like his family, as he can feel the changes he’s going through. He wonders what Luffy would want from him, which ultimately leads to the death pact between him and Zoro. He defeats Queen, and goes back to being his usual kind self (with a neat callback to his flashback in whole cake with the mouse), but the looming threat of the death pact still lingers. Zoro himself goes through my favorite fight of his against King, with the two paralleling each other, displaying utter dedication to their respective captains. It’s thematically important for Zoro, especially since he pushes himself to save his friends so much he MEETS DEATH after the fight, which leads to a bunch of stuff in the later arcs (at least from what I’ve seen so far). Lastly, I hate when people say Usopp didn’t do anything in Wano, as if this scene of his doesn’t exist. He shows the samurai that a honourable death in battle is stupid, because at the end of the day, it’s living another day that allows us to grow, to experience new things and to keep fighting, it takes a part of his character that would usually be seen as a flaw and flips it on its head, showing that sometimes you run, so you can keep fighting

I haven’t really talked about CP0 during Onigashima, but once they decide to put their plans into motion to make Wano WG territory, we get one of the coolest panels in Wano, along with the reveal that maybe, Luffy’s fruit isn’t what we thought, which I’ll get more into later

Kidd and Law vs Big Mom is a masterclass in using the abilities of everyone involved to their full extent, with the ending of the fight not only letting Law make a homage to the man who saved him, but also giving Big Mom a moment to think as she falls to her doom, on what Roger wanted to achieve. It’s profound, and I truly hope she’s coming back in Elbaph, as she’s such a good character and I miss her so much. I’m not the only one to miss her, as getting to see the version of Linlin that Kaido knew during his time with the Rocks pirates but their relationship into a new perspective, as sure they butt heads, fight, and both want the title of pirate king, but she was the one to take him under her wing, and the two clearly cared about each other, I genuinely felt for them here, despite the evils they’ve done, and that just shows to me how complex both of them are

Before we get to a thing I’ve been meaning to talk about this whole goddamn arc, when Kaido gives the news of Luffy’s defeat, Nami once again shows unwavering faith in her captain. Luffy has defeated foes thought to be undefeatable, and this scene in particular brings me back into Alabasta, with everyone proclaiming that Luffy would never die

And oh boy were they right about that

[heartsbyani]

꒰ mail by yani ꒱ :: not a fic post, unfortunately.. however, it is equally and possibly more important!

may the lord bless my precious liliza, i woke up to something upsetting. 

liliza let me know about a blog, @hyunsdoll / @hyunlixgirl, who they came across.

they've has been blatantly copying us— and by that i mean @cosmicalily’s header images, display fonts, bio; color schemes ; @hyunjiiza’s dividers, pinned post directory images, including the symbols. and unfortunately.. my older fic layout style, that i have recently only formatted a tiny bit. which is including the fic’s header pictures, symbols, warnings, notes, all the fic info and also the lines i add at the end of a fic. word by word. you can check for the proofs on liliza's blogs.

(copied: title, first two header images, outro line, note, info. and tag.)

so no credit, no acknowledgment. just taken and used as if it were their own. it’s beyond frustrating because the work we put into our blogs—curating aesthetics, crafting our own unique styles, and making our spaces feel personal—is something we’ve built with dedication and creativity. something’s that us. original. it’s not just me. this person has taken from all the three of us and i think that’s the most disappointing part when they’ve not even blocked either of us. 

the fact that they didn’t just take inspiration but fully lifted elements from each of us makes it even clearer that this wasn’t accidental. may have come across our accounts, saw how close we are, and decided to merge our styles into their own space without credit, as if no one would notice. but we did.

i don’t believe in gatekeeping inspiration—after all, we’re all here on tumblr because we love what we do. but there’s a difference between being inspired and outright stealing. the little things—our words, our layout choices, the specific ways we present our fics—those are ours. they come from us. and when someone takes that without permission, it’s not just disheartening; it’s discouraging. especially when this isn't the first time my layout's been copied [those who've been following me since jan '25, would know!]

it makes it feel like the effort we put in can just be taken without thought. if we would’ve at least been asked for permission before the usage of our layouts, we might’ve allowed you to do so regardless. but without the permissions, it’s straight up wrong.  

so, to that blog, i really hope you take a step back and realize what you’ve done. it takes nothing to give credit where it’s due, to acknowledge when something isn’t yours, and to respect the work of others in a community that thrives on creativity. we put a lot of heart into what we create, and it’s only fair that it stays ours. i hope you can recognize that and do the right thing!

after all we do make mistakes and learn from them. praying that it doesn’t happen again in the future. i also hope that the three of us, lily, iza, and i, have made ourselves clear.

it's absolutely okay to take inspo from people's works! incorporating very few or similar elements is fine. however to everyone, please don't steal other people's creativity and post it as your own. the original creator would appreciate it if you ask them for permission first!

p.s., would've posted this sooner but well, timezones differ. just because i didn't post anything about this and liliza did, does not mean i'm not bothered by it!

[shepscapades]

would you ever consider making a dbhc timeline with links to each comic/work attached to the moments? it would be a lot of work so totally understandable if not, but as i go through the timeline you posted i've been wanting to find and reread the comics associated with many the events

Ouuhh, yeah, I briefly considered it, but it would make the timeline post really long and complicated I think (bc the timelines are hand drawn so I’d have to like… put all of the links under a read more, which would be a lot of back and forth anyway b/w scrolling up to the timeline and scrolling down to find the corresponding link), so I decided against it. The best thing to do is just pull up Character Post Lists in a separate tab, since everything is already chronologically organized there (plus, there’s still important enough in-between stuff on the character post lists that aren’t on the timeline—I don’t want to give the impression that anything is “unimportant” just because it isn’t on the timeline).

More than anything else, I just wanted the timeline to be like, an additional tool/visual to clarify and give y’all a better idea of the vague order of events, not a definitive source for everything (hence my noting that not everything is on the time). I know you end up with a bunch of tabs open, which is less than ideal :( but I really don’t want to de-incentivize the character post lists bc those are what take the most time to put together and update. Hopefully all of that makes enough sense!

[joshuamj]

She just wanted a friend :(

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[july-19th-club]

dreamed once again about amy [redacted] and this time we were at our old high school for some reason or another and i owned a really cool but finicky vintage car. she was wearing a grey sweatshirt with faded pink roses on it and i was like. what is wrong with you ive never seen you wear florals in my life

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[bunny-jpeg]

packing my husband's lunch

simon "ghost" riley - inspired by this

tags: smut & fluff, domestic, established relationship (marriage), housewife!reader, butcher!simon, food, body worship & praise, missionary,

a/n: changed a little bit of it for the fic, i hope that's okay! i hope everyone loves it!!

it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, these were little videos that you made when simon was at work. people did a lot worse on the internet! you were mostly in sweet aprons with your username embroidered onto them and occasionally one of the dresses that your loving husband bought you!

you wanted to keep yourself busy now that you were a stay-at-home wife and the income from being part of the creator's program was a nice bonus.

"thank you for the banana bread recipe, mrs. riley!"

"where did you get that dress?"

"i wonder what mister riley looks like! i bet she totally lucked out!!"

you built up a sweet little community that was mostly sharing recipes that you've aquired over the years. viewers were impressed of how well you could handle spice despite your gentle demeanour, but you once said in a video that you had been eating spicy food your whole life!

"plus, my husband loves it too!" that was the big mystery of the account, who was mrs. riley's husband? viewers knew he existed and that videos occasionally were about making his lunches. but he had never showed his face in any video.

you thought the comments were cute, you'd often show them to simon while you were in his lap on the couch.

"they think that you're like christian grey."

"who the hell is that?" simon chuckled as he rested his head on top of your head so he could look down at your phone, "sounds like a real prick with a name like that."

another day, another video. you worked within the kitchen explaining the recipe. "you have to remmeber to add the spices before it all comes together or else it won't have time to mingle with the potatoes or the carrots. the taste will be all off!" you tone was like a bird's chirp as you had one hand on yourhip and the other stirring the pot with a spoon.

"my husband loves this! and i think who ever you make this for, wife, husband, boyfriend, partner, family member, friend, they'll love it too! but i suggest if you're making it for your nana that you tone down the spices a little!" you talked away as you continued to cook.

it filled the near silence in the kitchen and allowed you to keep viewers engaged!

but this video ended a little different. while you showed off finished stew in a pastel pink bowl, viewers caught the sight of him. hulking mass of man in a white t-shirt with a suspicious amount of red stained across it.

"girl, are you okay?"

"who is that?!"

"pack him a sandwich in the next video if you need help!"

"hey girlie, close your fist with your thumb inside if you're not safe!"

you were confused by the comments, simon wasn't a bad guy? he had never hurt a hair on your head. you've been trying to get him into more experimental kinky play in the bedroom!

you heard the door unlock and peeked out of the kitchen to see your husband coming home. you were use to grime he brought home, you met at the butcher shop his long time friend price owned. so a t-shirt stained with blood was nothing new. but then it clicked in your head.

oh they thought that simon was some kind of serial killer.

before you could say anything to your husband, he pulled you in for tight kiss and held you by the back of the head with his strong hand. you smiled against his lips and giggled when he picked you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist and held onto his shoulders.

you weren't the lightest thing in the world, but simon had spent most of his life hauling things (meat) heavier than you could ever be. he eyed you from top to bottom and smiled. his smiles were rare to others but frequent with you.

"how's my love bug today? makin' more videos for the fans." he asked as he carried you to the couch and put you down gently. he then leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

"yeah, they think you're a serial killer though."

his blond brows raised, "serial killer?"

you looked at him in return, "you were in the back of one of my latest videos, i didn't notice anything until i realized that you were in a work shirt and it looked like you were a serial killer."

"i see, i see." he said as he sat next to you and laced your fingers with his, "tell them i'm not, i don't need rumours to start." simon didn't like being the center of attention.

he once told you that he married the brightest woman he could find so she could be the center of attention and he could be supportive from the sidelines. it was why people gravitated towards you while being a little afraid of you towering husband.

you pulled him closer to you and kissed at his scarred face. he was an active service member before he became a butcher, so much history on his body and you loved every molecule of him. when you kissed him, he deepened the kiss and held both your hands.

"simon."

"let me take you to bed." he replied softly before he pulled you to your feet and then pulled you up into his arms bridal style. it took you a while to get used to him carrying you. not that you were worried about him not having a good hold on you, but rather you not having a good hold on him!

he brought you to your shared bedroom and placed you on the bed delicately. he then got his shirt up and over his head, exposing his strong body to you. he wasn't model trimmed, he was built with proper strength.

i ain't no pretty boy, dove.

but you thought your husband was the prettiest of them all. slowly you started to take off your dress, you could feel your husband's hungry eyes on you as you undressed for him. your viewers saw a sweet little wife, bu simon saw that sweet little wife totally nude.

when the mis-matched pair of bra and panties ended up on the floor with the dress, simon felt like a new man. he worked hard to provide for your family of two and would continue to work hard every day. you were his wife, his everything. and he loved you more than he could ever articulate.

so he expressed his love by getting undressed and into bed with you. laid out on top of the covers, your head in the pillows with simon between your legs.

"look at mrs. riley." he cooed as he rubbed his rough hands up and down your bare thighs, "prettier than those little cookies you make.' he chuckled a little, "boy at work watch your videos all the time, you've been a big help to them, finally able to cook for themselves." he went in to kiss you on the lips.

"glad i could help." you replied as you held onto one of the pillows under your head. you arched your back a little when he lined his cock up with slick entrance and pressed himself in.

he leaned forward and braced a hand up against the headboard as he got his cock inside of you. the issue with a size difference like yours, it made it a little hard to have sex in certain positions. usually you were on top, but since you got married you've been able to figure out missionary.

"honey."

"i got ya, dove. you feel so good as always." he said lowly, "everything i have ya, it's a complete treat. you take good care of me, you know that. you are a good wife. happy you're making your little videos, and i'm happier i get to come home to you."

you blushed a little bit and wanted to hide your face but he stopped you by pinning your hand to the bed.

"don't hide from me, dove. i want to see my wife's face." he said with his voice tinged with affection. he loved the sight of you, you were beautiful under him, he couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of you.

"you make me blush too much." you said as he moved against you. your loving, caring husband moved his hips in a steady pace as he held onto your hand and the headboard. his thrusts were easy on you, not too rough but just enough to make you excited all over. you loved the feeling of him, there was just something about it that made you feel a twinge of excitement in your core.

he was a perfect lover and you loved him so much.

"all mine." he purred as he continued his movements. he watched your videos daily during his lunch break, happily eating the food you made for a video that morning or the day prior. the stews, baked goods and pasta dishes that you were known for.

your emphasis on couponing and how to store foods to make them last longer. it was an honour for simon to be with such a lovely woman. you encouraged food as a form of love. and you showed that love ten times over with simon.

he captured your lips and continued to move against you. he devoured the feeling of his lover up against him. you felt amazing, you felt like heaven. he couldn't help himself. he moved against you and continued to kiss you.

"work so hard every day, you work your ass off beautiful. and i love it, all of you. you know that. i can't get enough of you, how you feel against me. how i feel like our souls are connected."

you giggled, "no need to butter me up, handsome." you smiled when he placed another kiss on your lips. you moaned into the kiss, you eventually held onto his strong shoulders. you two moved against each other, husband and wife. quite the pair you were, and simon wouldn't want it any other way.

"baby." he cooed.

"shh, shh." you said, you opened your eyes and stared into his brown ones, he was so handsome. even when he tried to deny it, you knew the truth. he was quite the handsome man. the kind of man that made your toes curl with each hardy thrust of his hips.

the pleasure ran through both of you, the intensity of it made you kiss one another once more. he continued to work himself inside of you. live in each of this thrusts, affection in every movement. simon loved you and you loved him, hence why you held onto him so closely.

"oh, dove. look at ya. perfect for your husband." he cooed as he felt closer to his climax, it was an intense feeling. the kind of feeling that excited him greatly. he loved you and when he watched your pleasure reach its peak, he felt a swell of pride when you clutched onto him tighter.

"fuck, honey." you moaned as pleasure crushed down on you. you tensed up then relax, enjoying the feeling as it moved through you. you shared another kiss.

simon continued to work his body up against yours, and soon he finished inside of you. he rocked against you through his climax and then only broke the kiss when he stopped. he looked you in the eyes, those beautiful brown eyes.

you giggled lightly and pulled him in once more before he laid out on the bed beside you and held you in his arms.

"not too bad for a serial killer."

"yeah, i bet they'd never know that you're such a teddy bear." you dragged a finger across his strong chest and let out a small giggle. he felt so good against you. you soon sat up and said, "i have something i want you to try, i am working on a new recipe."

before you could get too far, he pulled you back into bed with him and wrapped his arms around you. he held you close and said, "whatever it is, dove. i bet it's amazing, but right now i just wanna hold ya."

-

the following day, on one of simon's days off. you set up the camera and stood beside your much taller husband. you were all smiles as you were ready to bake a nice spring treat.

"hello, love bugs! it's mrs. riley again, and today i have a guest!" you gestured to your husband. you whispered, "you'll need to crouch down a little." and simon bent his knees, "this is my husband, mister riley!"

you hoped that this would quell any concerns your fans might have. and while the comments were positive one made you blush.

"i used to think i had a crush on mrs. riley, but now i have a crush on mr. riley too!"

i hope you love this fic! if you have any suggestions, my open! till next time <3