#soft stans arise

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part 1

i decided to make a full-fledged multi-chapter fic out of this idea that i posted a few days ago with a cyoa ending potentially

thanks so much to everyone who showed so much love for it and hope you enjoy this series!

this is my first time writing for gravity falls so i hope to do it justice!

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

original fic idea | part two

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii /

@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby

He wasn’t in bed.

You woke up in the middle of the night to find the space beside you empty, the blankets cool to touch, indicating that a warm body had not even slipped into the sheets. Begrudgingly, you slip out of the warm comfort of your bed to search for your lover.

Your bare feet pad against the wood floorboards, creaking with each step you take. Your fingers balancing a candle that you used to illuminate the way, too lazy to try and turn on the lights. 

You descend down to the basement, pushing open the metal door that reveals an intricate lab full of oddities and gadgets with a triangle shaped portal looming just behind the glass window. You let out a yawn, approaching the figure that had his back turned towards you. His six-fingers spin the pen in his hand effortlessly as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

Your soft yet groggy voice calls out as you place your hand on his shoulder, “Ford, come to bed. Your research will be here in the morning.”

Stanford jumps at your sudden touch before relaxing when he hears the sound of your voice. He puts his pen down, placing his hand over yours with his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand, “I’ll be there soon, just head back upstairs. I just need to finish this last equation that's been driving me mad the whole day.”

“Stanford…” You say with an edge to your voice, knowing that he could easily stay up the rest of the night working tirelessly on this portal that he had been working on for the past few months.

“Alright… I concede. You win this round, my dear.” Ford sighs, turning to face you finally with a tired smile. He gets up from his seat, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head before following you up the stairs but not before looking back at the portal.

-

You had the dream again.

It always starts the same. Walking down a staircase, the floorboards creaked with each step you took. Your eyelids feel heavy almost as if you’re resisting the urge to fall asleep. Your feet carrying you down to a basement. The warm flames of the candle you hold illuminating the way.

Your fingertips push the cool metal frame of the door to reveal a figure sitting in front of a desk, facing away from you. Your hand reaches out to touch their shoulder and as they turn around to reveal their face to you, you awaken.

Your eyes open abruptly, staring at the dark ceiling as your alarm echoes through the empty room. Slowly sitting up in bed, you instinctively reach across to turn off your alarm and turn on your lamp before your hand reaches to open the drawer of your bedside table, feeling around for something. Your fingertips brush against leather and wrap around the item, pulling it out to reveal a journal.

These dreams happened almost every night over the years. It had gotten to a point where you started logging them, just trying to find any pattern or meaning behind them.

You turn to the page labeled ‘The Basement’ - adding another tally mark in the margins that you used to keep track of the frequency of each dream. You close your eyes, trying to conjure up any distinguishable features from this mystery person but nothing new arises. 

Sighing, you shut the leather-bound journal, putting it to the side.

Now was not the time to be worrying about your cryptic dreams, you were supposed to be getting ready for the trip you had been planning for the past few months. 

A road trip through the Pacific Northwest, starting in Northern California and making your way up to Seattle.

You hop out of bed to start getting ready for your journey ahead. After completing your morning routine and slipping on some comfortable clothing for the long drive, you make your way to the kitchen, grabbing the map that was stuck to the fridge with a magnet from your alma mater, Backupsmore. 

Having already packed your bags into the car the night before, your feet make a beeline out the door, wanting to hit the road before sunrise to give you enough time to hit the places you wanted to visit on the way up to your final destination for the day, Portland. 

Unraveling the map in your lap, your eyes scan over it, reviewing over the route you had planned out today. Your gaze lingered on one particular spot you had circled closer to Portland that was unlike any of the stops you had chosen.

Gravity Falls.

You couldn’t explain what drew you in to choose this town to stop in out of all the surrounding towns near Portland. You knew that you had an old friend, Fiddleford, who had moved out to this area to do research. You had even visited him once during his time out there. However, you hadn’t heard from Fiddleford in years, correspondence seemingly dropping off as he stopped answering your calls and your letters always ended up returning to you.

Trying to push aside thoughts of your lost connection, you put your car in reverse, pulling out of your parking spot and heading out onto the open road. The winding roads take you through the lush forests that enveloped the region. As each hour passed, you could see the sun slowly starting to make its way up the horizon and decided to stop to watch the sunrise at Redwood National Park. 

After the brief stop that you used to stretch your legs and grab a cup of coffee, you make your way back on the road. Your original plan was to stop at almost every National Park on the way up to Oregon but after hitting a pocket of traffic that put you behind a whole hour, you decide to skip a few stops and make your way directly to the town of Gravity Falls, figuring it would be your last stop with the remaining amount of daylight you had left.

Unfortunately, you had hit another bump in the road, pretty much derailing the first day of your methodically planned out trip.

Your car had suddenly stopped in the middle of the forest about five miles out from the town.

Cursing under your breath, you step out to assess the cause of your delay. Your hands pop open the hood of your car, breathing a slight sigh of relief when you don’t see any steam or smoke. Figuring that the most likely cause is the battery dying on you, you pull out your phone, trying to look up the nearest towing company to hopefully bring you into town to get it looked at.

As you’re waiting for the screen to load due to the poor signal out in this forested area, a gruff voice calls out, asking if you need a hand.

You look up to see a red convertible with the phrase ‘El Diablo’ etched on the side on the other side of the road. Its owner, a man with gray hair, glasses and a stubbled yet chiseled jawline, wearing a black tank, a shiny medallion that sat on his exposed graying chest hairs, and a brown leather jacket, stares back at you, one hand on the steering wheel while his arm dangles lazily outside of the rolled down window.

You pause, taken aback as something about his features seems… familiar. You quickly snap out of your stupor, realizing you’ve just been standing there in silence.

"Uhm… yeah if you have jumper cables, I just need to get my car running to get to the next town and hopefully get a replacement battery,” You reply, figuring this option would be way cheaper than hiring a whole tow truck.

"Of course, I have jumper cables, toots - look at my car, you think I haven't been stranded out here myself." The stranger chuckles, making an effortless U-Turn with one hand before pulling his car close to yours. Your cheeks warm at the nickname given to you by this man you met literally seconds ago, This guy’s a total silver fox.

You step to the side to give him access to hook up the jumper cables after he fishes them out of his own trunk. You both stand in silence while he attaches the cables to your car before his deep voice cuts through, "So uh, what brings you out here? You just driving through?"

You almost chuckle at his awkward attempt to make small talk, "Sort of. I'm doing a whole road trip through the Pacific Northwest. I was gonna check out this town ahead, Gravity Falls, before I make my way up to Portland."

The older man blinks, expecting you to just be passing through the town at this time of a day. Normally, tourists only stop into town in the early hours of the day on their own journeys up north. His lips spread into a grin, pulling out a business card from his leather jacket. "Well, if you're stopping by, you gotta check out the Mystery Shack! One stop shop for mysterious oddities!"

You take the business card with a giant question mark on the front. He retreats back to his car, turning on his engine before nodding over at you as a signal for you to start up your own engine. You slip back into the car, slipping the card into your pocket before turning on the ignition. You breathe a sigh of relief as your car stutters back to life. Glancing up, you see him grinning back at you before the two of you step out of your respective vehicles.

“Thanks again for your help… sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand out in gratitude. The silver fox’s large hand envelops yours, shaking your hand firmly, “Stan Pines, nice to meet ya. It’s no problem, wouldn’t want to leave a lady like yourself stranded in the middle of the woods.”

“Do you say that to all the ladies that end up stranded in the woods?” You can’t help but tease, earning a hearty chuckle from Stan. “Well, let’s just say that’s not a common occurrence out here. So you thinkin’ about stopping by the Mystery Shack?”

You pause, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you thumb the edge of the business card Stan had given you. On one hand, you should probably be heading back on the road to make it to Portland and this Mystery Shack sounded like a tourist trap. On the other hand, the sun was starting to set and you weren’t keen on driving through the forest in the dark. Maybe it would be best if you stayed the night in this quaint town and start again the next morning. As you look up at Stan, you make your decision, deciding to appease the man who helped you so graciously.

You also had to admit you found him quite charming and curiosity got the better of you.

“Sure, lead the way.” You say with a casual shrug. Stan grins, “I’ll make sure you get a personal tour of the Mystery Shack. No need to worry about other tourists.” Your eyebrow raises in amusement before slipping into your car, “What, you know the owner?” You blink at the smirk that spreads across Stan’s lips, “Sweetheart, you’re looking at the former owner, Mr. Mystery himself.”

You bite back a giggle, “No wonder you were laying it on thick, just trying to get more tourists to visit, huh?” Stan rolls his eyes mirthfully “Hey, I was trying to lend a helping hand… though I have a good sales pitch, don’t I?” He grins, shooting finger guns towards you with a wink.

This’ll be interesting. You think to yourself as you follow behind Stan in your car, pulling into the empty lot of the Mystery Shack. You snort, seeing how the S dangles off the side spelling out Mystery Hack, before pointing it out to Stan as he exits his car. His features grimace as he grumbles out, “I noticed” before beckoning you to follow him, twirling his keys on his index finger.

Stan proceeded to give you a detailed tour of the Mystery Shack, spinning elaborate tales surrounding the variety of taxidermy animals that he had mismatched together. Despite the absurdity of it all, you can’t help but get sucked into his tales, seeing the clear passion and excitement he had for this place. You burst out into laughter at the sight of the Sascrotch to which Stan beamed at, “Good one, right? Probably one of the highlights of the Mystery Shack.”

You weaved your way through the shack, though there were certain sections of it that looked oddly familiar. Almost like you had walked down these hallways before. A wave of deja vu hit you as you walked through the doorway into the gift shop. “Usually this is the part where I try to sell people on an overpriced souvenir but I have a feeling that the whole schtick isn’t gonna work on you, is it?” Stan admits.

“Probably not but I’ll take a look around and see if there’s anything that catches my eye.” You chuckle, making your way around the space as your eyes scan the various trinkets. Your fingertips run across the mugs with question marks painted on them. You decide to use this opportunity to make small talk as you mill around the gift shop while Stan leans back against the counter, “So, you said you’re the former owner? Who owns it now?”

“One of my former employees, Soos. Kid’s been working for me since he was… well a kid. Only person with as much passion as me about this place.” Stan says, glancing over at the Employee of the Month picture that still hung behind the counter that showed a younger Soos. “What made you step down as owner?” You hum, thumbing through the t-shirt rack. 

Stan smiles fondly, “Me and my twin brother actually just got back from traveling, we’re only in town for the summer. It was always our dream to travel the world together by boat, and we finally got to make that happen.” You look up, smiling at how warmly he spoke of his brother. Stan catches you staring and crosses his arms defensively, “What?”

“Nothing,” You say, shaking your head before thumbing through the assortment of keychains and stickers that were displayed. “So twin brother, huh? What’s he like?”

“You’re sure asking a lot of questions… not sure if I should be flattered but it feels like I’m being interrogated by a government official.” Stan comments with a grin. You pause with dramatic effect before looking up and admitting, “Well technically, I do work for the government.”

Stan freezes, his stance becoming defensive as he looks you up and down, “Oh shit, really? Man, these cover-ups are getting better and better but I swear I haven’t broken any laws… recently at least.” Your warm laughter fills the room, finding the look on his face priceless, “Relax, I work for the National Parks.” Stan’s posture relaxes at the realization and he rolls his eyes, “Alright, you got me good. So what do you do? Are you like a park ranger or something?”

“No, I’m a geoscientist. I pretty much study rocks and fossils. Kinda boring day to day but sometimes I’ll come across a precious gemstone and keep it for myself… even though we’re not supposed to take anything off a dig site.” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Using the government’s resources to your own advantage? I like the way you think.” Stan chuckles.

You pick out a magnet to add to your fridge when you return as a reminder of your side quest at the Mystery Shack. Stan rings you up though you notice a significant markdown in the original price after he insists on giving you the employee discount. As you walk out of the gift shop outside, you round the corner back to your car. 

Little did you know that you would run into the man that you once loved as someone with a long tan trench coat was outside fiddling with a device with his back turned to you. Stan elbows you in the arm to catch your attention, "That's my poindexter brother that I mentioned, Ford. He's always working on some geeky invention."

"You know I can hear you, Stanley?" Ford sighs, turning around to face you two.

Time slows down as he meets your eyes, memories flooding back to him before landing on the last memory he had of you - your back turning away from him, your hand slipping through his fingers after he chose to continue with his research despite your pleas.

He freezes, seeing the woman that left him all those years ago, "Y/N?" He calls out to you.

You blink, staring back at this man that you had never met before calling out your name.

Stan is just as confused as you are, looking between the two of you. 

You tilt your head in confusion, “Uhm… sorry, have we met before? How do you know my name?”

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Post-portal Feral Mabel Pines Headcanons

Based on the amalgamation of the drifting stars au and the ‘feral Ford’ concept comes the Feral Mabel AU thingy! By that, I mean headcanons!

-She met Ford immediately after falling into the portal, ending up in the Nightmare Realm and being saved from Bill’s clutches.

-By the time she fell, Ford was already pretty animalistic. He saved her, but it took Mabel a few hours to convince him that they were family and that she wasn’t just a stray.

-Him being all animal-like freaks her out at first, understandably so, and she messes up when trying to introduce herself a few times (loud, bright, things are usually dangerous), but Ford understands her well enough to accept her as family and she needs him for survival.

-Eventually, Mabel starts copying Ford’s movements, reactions, and behavior to an extent. Things like moving slowly, hiding the way he does, etc., sort of like a human meowing at a cat. She really only starts doing it for Ford’s sake.

-The multiverse is large, savage, scary, and dangerous. Mabel starts realizing that her grunkle has developed the animal mindset for a very good reason. She stops copying him out of entertainment and starts imitating him for survival.

-As the years in the portal and outside of it pass, the two become inseparable. Ford sees himself as her ‘pack leader’ and caregiver. They both see Mabel as Ford’s “kit” or “pup”.

-Mabel’s small stature and creativity have gotten them both out of a lot of jams when it came to escaping.

-Mabel uses the key sweater she came in with as bedding for many of their nests. It’s still soft and brings her comfort. Ford likes it because it has her scent.

-Neither if them recognized their twin when they returned. Ford started pulling her behind him and growling, so Mabel did the same, hissing aggressively. Poor Stan and Dipper had to wait for them to realize.

-When they get more settled in, Mabel gets confused when Stan or Dipper don’t follow the pre-established “rules” of the pack or do what she does (nests or scavenging). Dipper, meanwhile, gets concerned when she does those things, scared he’s losing his sister.

-Dipper starts taking notes of her behavior and what it means so he can copy it to make her feel better. Their progress improves, but they’re both aware that having to move back to California will be a struggle.

-A part of Mabel sees Waddles as food rather than a pet now. She’s ashamed of that part.

-Sometimes Ford and Mabel will be gone for hours or days, usually with each other, to scout the area, catch food (wild creatures) in the woods, or because they only feel safe with each other. Mabel is especially good at making traps. If she needs to kill out of necessity, like food, she will. This has concerned the others.

-Ford and Mabel see the other Pines’ as their “pack siblings” and would kill and die for them.

-When perceived danger arises, Mabel will panic and attempt to herd the others together before getting them to safety. While she has less trouble moving past those animal instincts than Ford does, they’re still there.

-Stan and Ford’s relationship is actually somewhat better. Mabel managed to convince Ford that Stan wasn’t as awful as he thought, and Stan is his pack brother that he feels protective over. Still, they’re not entirely OK, and Stan will blame Ford for how Mabel acts in times of heated anger.

And that’s it! It turned less into headcanons and more into a story outline (whoops) as they kept going but I have a lot to say about this AU.

[watercat-atsea]

I need some time travel mishap to happen and for the Old Stan’s to meet their 30s counterparts and Ford is just insanely jealous that even his paranoid self is attracted to his stan. Like, back off and fuck your own Stan

I love ignoring all the real problems that could arise with time travel and just have them be crazy and horny! I’m gonna go for alternative universe though instead of time travel though 🤔

I do think it’s a cool idea to have time travel where they remember meeting their older selves as young adults and then finally get to back in time themselves as old adults to continue to loop

I imagine a scene with current Stan and Ford in the basement of the mystery shack. It’s the winter after weirdmageddon and the two decide take a couple of months to recover and clean up any loose ends before sailing together. It’s the off season for the mystery shack so it’s just them occupying the house.

In the basement the two are cleaning up and fixing up all the old machines and gadgets still left. Ford is very concerned about making sure everything is clean so he can use it as a lab after anomaly searching with Stan.

Unbeknownst to them, in an other timeline, a younger Ford and Stan are in the same basement having an argument. That argument that led up to Ford being sucked into the portal. In this universe though, both Stan and Ford go through. Luckily for them, they end up right back in the basement. Just a different version of the basement.

Current Stan and Ford suddenly get blinded by a bright light, they hear two heavy thuds.

Once their eyesight recovers they see two familiar figures groaning on the ground.

Yada yada yada I’m lazy rn so after some talking and stuff the four figure out what just happened. young Ford is entirely too exhausted, malnourished, and sick to try and figure out a way home. This leaves current Ford, and surprising to young Ford, current Stan. After all, this Stan was able to restart the portal so he at least knows how to help a little bit!!

Young Ford insists on sitting down in the basement with them to watch them work, though he ends up being entranced by current Stan. Ford has always been attracted to bigger, hairier, gruffer men AND this Stan is bantering with him about science and is being soft towards him. Yeah he falls hard.

Current Stan and Ford definitely don’t miss this. Current Stan finds it charming in a puppy love type of way, but current Ford is very jealous.

Late at night when the other set of brothers are sleeping, current Ford basically jumps current Stan. Biting him, marking him, whispering “mine” as he cums into Stan.

And yeah Stan is definitely into it, so he gets even flintier with younger Ford. Touching him, complimenting him, the whole nine yards. And of course current Ford gets even rougher and more possessive that night.

It becomes a game between the two of them that they won’t acknowledge.

A little addition cuz young stan felt neglected to me

Young Stan notices all this happening but young Ford doesn’t. He’s actually saddled by this, he’s trying his best to heal and take care of his brother and he he is falling for a different version of him. Stan sees this and tires to help young Stan

[sebstanaddict]

Rewrite The Stars

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary :

Reader is a woman trapped in a loveless and abusive marriage, struggling to keep herself together for the sake of her daughter, when she meets Sebastian. Despite his Hollywood star status, he unexpectedly shows her the love and care she's been missing and her world begins to shift. They find love and deep connection in each other but her situation prevents them to fully realize their love. How will they deal with the situation? Will they be able to rewrite the stars to make them meant for each other?

A/N : This story deals with topics of domestic abuse and SA, as well as infidelity (of course I don't support infidelity in any way but in this story I have a very good reason to include it). So if you feel you can be triggered by these topics, it's best to not read it. The topics are heavy and aimed at 18+ readers so if you're under 18, I advise you not to read it.

Chapter : 2/15 (May add more)

Chapter List >

Word Count : 2.4k

Warning : physical abuse depiction

---

Chapter 2

Y/n hurried down the busy streets of New York, her mind occupied with her boss's lunch order and the dozen other tasks waiting for her back at the office. She pushed through the door of the sandwich shop, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread and deli meat filling the air. As she stepped in line, she noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye.

Sebastian.

He was standing by the counter, waiting for his order. He hadn’t seen her yet, but her heart raced just at the sight of him. Part of her wanted to turn around and leave, to avoid the complicated feelings that seemed to arise every time they were in the same space. But before she could make her escape, he looked up—and their eyes met.

A soft, surprised smile spread across his face, and he stepped toward her. “Y/n,” he greeted warmly, “lovely seeing you here.”

She managed a smile, though the nervousness in her chest was hard to shake. “Hey, yeah, just grabbing sandwiches for my boss. You?”

He gestured to the bag in his hand. “Just picking up lunch before heading to a meeting. Didn’t expect to run into you.”

There was something so natural about his tone, something easy and inviting, but Y/n felt a familiar tug of conflict deep in her gut. She shouldn’t be here, chatting with him so casually. It felt wrong, even though she knew it wasn’t. But despite her internal battle, she found herself stepping closer, falling into conversation with him as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re still singing at the café?” Sebastian asked, his eyes genuinely curious, that familiar look of concern mixed with admiration flickering beneath the surface.

Y/n shifted on her feet, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Every weekend, mostly.”

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “And how are things… otherwise?”

The unspoken question hung between them, and Y/n felt the tension rise again. She glanced around the busy shop, wondering how to respond. The truth? The lies she told herself? Instead, she settled on something in between. “It’s… complicated,” she murmured, echoing her own words from before.

Sebastian nodded, his understanding eyes softening. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. “Well, if you ever need anything—anything at all—you can call me.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and a pen and scribbling his number on it before handing it to her. She stared at the paper for a moment, her fingers brushing against his as she took it. Her heart hammered in her chest as she folded it and tucked it into her bag.

“Sebastian, I—" she started, her voice faltering as she tried to find the right words.

He shook his head gently. “No pressure, Y/n. I just… I want you to know you don’t have to go through anything alone.”

The weight of his words hit her harder than she expected. She felt that pull again, that strange sense of comfort and safety that only seemed to come when she was around him. But she was also terrified of what it meant—what it could lead to.

Before she could respond, her order was called, and she turned to grab the sandwiches. “Thanks,” she muttered, feeling the familiar guilt swirl inside her. “I’ll… I’ll keep it in mind.”

Sebastian gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Take care, Y/n.”

As she left the shop, the paper with his number felt heavier than it should in her bag. The walk back to the office was a blur, her mind clouded with the thought of what just happened. She shouldn’t have taken the number, but she did. She couldn’t stop herself.

---

That evening, Y/n stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the dishes in silence. The house was too quiet, the tension palpable even when no one was home. Her daughter was already asleep, tucked away in her room. But the other part of her life—the part she dreaded—was coming home soon.

When the front door finally opened, Y/n’s body tensed. Her husband stumbled in, the familiar stench of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. She could hear his heavy steps, each one making her stomach twist in knots.

“Where’s dinner?” he slurred, his voice thick with irritation.

Y/n kept her gaze on the sink, trying to stay calm. “It’s on the stove. You can heat it up if you’re hungry.”

His footsteps grew louder as he approached, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second. “You didn’t make it hot for me?” he snapped, his voice rising.

She swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. “I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he growled, and before she could react, he grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the sink. Y/n stumbled, her heart racing as she tried to steady herself.

The slap came so fast, she barely had time to process it. Her cheek stung, the force of the blow making her stumble back. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t the first time. But each time it happened, it felt like it broke her a little more.

“Next time, make sure dinner’s ready when I get home,” he spat before stumbling toward the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, her breath shaky, her cheek burning. The sound of the TV blaring filled the room, drowning out the silence that had settled between them. She waited until she heard the slow, heavy sound of his snoring before she let herself move.

She moved mechanically, cleaning up the kitchen and tidying the house as if nothing had happened. But inside, something had finally shifted.

Later that night, after everything had quieted down, Y/n sat in the dark, the only light coming from her phone screen. She pulled the small slip of paper from her bag, staring at the number scrawled across it. Her thumb hovered over her phone, conflicted, her heart pounding in her chest.

She shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t reach out to him. But as she looked at her bruised reflection in the dark window, the pain in her chest became too much to bear. She needed something, anything, to remind her that she wasn’t completely alone.

Before she could stop herself, she typed a single message.

"Can we meet?"

The message was simple, but the weight behind it was immense. And as soon as she hit send, Y/n felt a mix of fear and relief wash over her.

The night stretched on, her phone silent as she waited. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.

—

Sebastian stared at the message on his phone, his heart sinking as he read the three simple words.

"Can we meet?"

He hadn’t heard from Y/n since their last encounter at the sandwich shop, but he knew something was wrong just by the tone of her text. Without hesitation, he typed a response.

"Of course. Let’s meet before your shift at the café this weekend. We can find somewhere quiet."

It didn’t take long for her to respond, agreeing to meet, and with that, the arrangements were made. As the weekend neared, Sebastian couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever she needed to tell him would be heavy. He’d noticed things about her before—the quiet sadness behind her smile, the way she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders—but he hadn’t pressed. Now, he could only hope she’d finally let him in.

---

The following Saturday, Sebastian arrived early at the small, secluded café they had agreed on. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far from the familiar crowd of the café where she worked. A place where no one would recognize her or ask questions.

He waited by the window, nursing a cup of coffee, his thoughts swirling as he watched people pass by outside. Then, finally, she walked in.

Y/n looked around the café before spotting him, her face drawn and tired. As she approached the table, Sebastian stood, offering her a gentle smile. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft.

“Hey,” she replied, her face lit up as she saw him but her voice was barely above a whisper as she slid into the seat across from him.

Sebastian couldn’t help but notice the faint bruise on her cheek. It was faint but unmistakable. His heart sank, and his mind raced, wondering if this was why she’d wanted to meet.

“You want anything to drink?” he asked, trying to keep things light for a moment.

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, the tension palpable. Finally, Sebastian leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but filled with concern. “Y/n, what’s going on? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready, but I can see… something’s not right.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as she felt his eyes on her, the concern in his voice making her feel vulnerable. She hadn’t planned on telling him everything—not here, not now—but when she saw the genuine care on his face, the words just started to tumble out.

“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

Sebastian leaned in closer, his gaze soft. “Start wherever you need to. I’m here.”

Y/n looked away, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s my husband,” she began, her voice barely audible. “He’s… not the man he used to be. He drinks all the time, and when he’s drunk, he’s angry. So angry.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as she spoke, his hand gripping his coffee cup a little too tightly. He’d had his suspicions, but hearing it confirmed was like a punch to the gut.

“He hit you?” he asked softly, his eyes flickering to the bruise on her cheek.

Y/n nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. “It wasn’t always like this, you know? We were happy once. We ran a business together and it was successful, but Covid came and we were forced to shut down. For a time we lived in debt as we tried to get back on our own feet but.. things are still not the same as it was before. It frustrates him and.. that's when he started drinking. Now… I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

She paused, wiping her eyes quickly before continuing. “I can’t leave him, though.. because of my daughter, and because… I can’t afford to. We’re struggling. He can’t provide for us, and I’m working two jobs just to keep everything afloat.”

Sebastian’s heart ached as she spoke. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and pull her into his arms, to tell her that she didn’t have to endure this any longer. But he knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I’m also sending money back to my family in Tulsa,” Y/n continued, her voice breaking. “My parents, they need help, and my brother… he’s disabled. They rely on me. I can’t just abandon them, and I can’t leave my husband without putting myself in an even worse position.”

Sebastian listened quietly, his hands clenched into fists under the table as he fought to contain his frustration. The more she spoke, the more he realized how trapped she was, how much weight she carried on her shoulders.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Every day, I’m just trying to survive.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “Y/n, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. No one should have to live like this.”

She wiped her eyes again, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel stuck. I can’t leave, and I can’t stay.”

For a long moment, Sebastian didn’t say anything. He wanted to help—God, he wanted to help—but he knew the situation was complicated. He couldn’t swoop in and fix everything for her, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I don’t want to say something that might make things harder for you,” he said carefully, “but you deserve so much better than this, Y/n. You deserve to feel safe and happy. I know you’ve got responsibilities, but you can’t keep living like this forever.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she traced the edge of her coffee cup. “But what choice do I have? If I leave him, I lose everything.”

Sebastian hesitated, his mind racing for the right words. He knew she was right—her situation was far more complicated than anything he could easily fix. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted softly. “But I’m here. If you ever need someone to talk to, if you ever need help, I’m just a call away.”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of gratitude and something else—a longing for a life she didn’t think she could have. For a moment, they just sat there, the connection between them deepening in the quiet café. But there was also a shared understanding, a mutual conflict neither of them could deny.

“I appreciate it,” she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. “I really do.”

Sebastian gave her a small, sad smile. “I wish I could do more.”

Y/n shook her head, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly in a bitter smile. “You’re doing more than you know. Just listening… that means a lot.”

The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, with a bond that neither of them had expected but couldn’t ignore. Y/n knew she had to leave soon—her shift at the café was about to start—but for a brief moment, she allowed herself to just sit there, feeling the weight of her struggles lessen ever so slightly in his presence.

As they stood to leave, Sebastian gently placed a hand on her arm. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything,” he said softly.

Y/n nodded, her heart heavy with gratitude and confusion. “I will. Thank you, Sebastian.”

As she walked out of the café and headed toward her job, she felt a mixture of relief and guilt. She knew she couldn’t depend on him—her situation was too complicated, too messy—but just knowing that someone cared enough to listen made all the difference.

Sebastian watched her go, his heart aching for her. He knew he couldn’t offer her more than his support, but deep down, he wished he could change her life. The connection between them was undeniable, but it was tangled in a web of obstacles neither of them could easily overcome.

For now, all he could do was be there for her, waiting for the moment when she might finally be able to take control of her life.

[angelicyouth]

Parallel ; Chapter 5 [FINAL]

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x mccormick!reader

⇢ genre: fake dating ; hogwarts AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝Transferring to Hogwarts during your fifth year, you were excited at the prospect of all the new potential eye candy to choose from. That dream gets crushed, however, when your childhood enemy impulsively claims you as his girlfriend.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous]

“Babe..? Are you okay?”

You can feel your eyelashes softly brush against the skin of your cheeks as you slowly become conscious again, your eyebrows creasing together at the sheer pain radiating off of the back of your head. Ring adorned hands begin to skim against the underwire of your bra as the slight suctioning of slicked lips trail themselves down the column of your neck, a painfully delicious bite causing you to jolt fully awake.

“Wha—” The sight that greets you is Stan Marsh staring up at you, the ravenette maintaining the point of contact between his tongue and your heated skin as he slowly mouths against the dips and curves of your body.

What the actual fuck is happening..?

You involuntarily flinch when you feel him wetly mouth over the thin fabric separating your weeping core from his face, goosebumps arising as his cool fingers tease the hem of your lace panties. Labored breathing fills the room as you feel his teasing smirk against your skin, his hands pushing down your impatiently bucking hips against the silk linen of the bedsheets caressing your body.

Wait.

“Hmm?” You don’t realize that you’ve spoken out loud from the overwhelming arousal painting your cheeks a vivid red as you scramble to gather your bearings, your hand coming up to cradle his cheek in an attempt to stop his admittedly heavenly body worshipping.

“What’re we doing?” Your voice dangerously wavers at the end of your sentence as his face chases after the warmth of your palm, the Gryffindor affectionately nestling his cheek further against your hold as he kisses your inner wrist.

“Fucking if you’d just stop asking all these damn questions.” He mumbles against your rapidly beating pulse, his mouth lightly skimming along the expanse of your hand so that he can leisurely drag his tongue against your fingers.

When he sees your shaking head, he tries again. "Huh? Oh, uh. Making love..?"

“... What? No. That's not what I meant.” A moan accompanies your words when he resumes his previous ministrations on your otherwise bare body, pressing heated kisses against the inside of your thighs as he leaves a smattering of vivid reds and deep purples in its wake.

His fingers softly trail against your exposed waist, gently massaging the area as his teeth create deep imprints alongside his marks of possession. “Are you fucking around with me right now, N/N? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?”

Every word that sounds out around the deep baritone of his voice has a puff of air accompanying the melodious noise, invoking an overwhelming sensation as they make contact with your slicked skin. It’s quiet for a bit aside from the soft mewls that unwillingly escape from your mouth before you fight through the cloud of arousal consuming your mind and remember that something was off. 

“We aren’t supposed to be doing this.” You softly pant, one of your hands leaving behind a trail of angry reds against the skin on the back of his shoulder and the other roughly tugging on soft locks of tousled raven hair.

“Really? Because your body is telling me otherwise.” There's a cocky smirk on his face as you gasp out loud, his fingers leisurely swiping against your heated core and collecting the arousal quickly gathering.

“This isn’t right.” The sudden loss of contact and heat has your body desperately wailing at you as Stan pulls away, your boyfriend sitting upright from his position in between your legs to send you a look of confusion.

“Did you smoke with Kenny again?” You rapidly shake your head, his hands gripping either side of your waist and rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs as the skin in between his eyebrows further creases.

“No? Did you take Baruffio’s Brain Elixir with him? How about powdered dragon claws?” Each of his suggestions evoke the same response of nonverbal rejection.

“What’s wrong then? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening, babe.” A large hand tucks away the stray locks of hair away from your face before he caresses one of your cheeks, your eyes unconsciously closing at the soft touch as his eyes scan over your appearance to find any indication of hurt.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Your voice is weak as you bring your hands upwards to cover your face, your boyfriend immediately lifting up your body at the sign of clear distress and placing you on his lap.

He pushes your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss against the skin of your forehead as he wraps his arms around your waist. “That’s okay. You’re not expected to do anything, regardless of the fact that we’re in a relationship. I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”

When you wordlessly nod your head in appreciation for his words, the gesture encourages him to continue. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but can I know what’s going on?” 

Silence stretches on between the two of you as you mindlessly fiddle with the creases within the cotton shirt adorning his frame, your boyfriend soothingly running his fingers through your hair. He’s patient as he allows you to take control of the situation, waiting for you to decide on what you both will do next as he presses an onslaught of reassuring kisses against the crown of your head.

“I don’t feel comfortable fucking because I have feelings for you.” You shyly mumble against the column of his neck, your body tense as you await for his response to your confession.

What you get, instead, is Stan placing both of his hands on your shoulders as he gently pushes you away from his body. “Okay, now I’m pretty fucking confused. What the fuck are you talking about? I love you and you love me—it’s why we’re in a committed relationship with each other.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve never established that! Are you thinking of a different girl, Marsh?!” You push at his chest in frustration but it doesn’t do much against his stronger figure, causing you to pout.

“Babe! We’ve been together for two years—I’m pretty sure I’d know who my girlfriend is by now and no one is as pretty as you to have me confused. Are you sure you didn’t take any Pepperup Elixir or some shit?” He chuckles in confusion and you hate the way that you internally preen at being the one responsible for making him laugh, your body wanting to draw out more of that beautiful sound from his mouth.

“No, we’ve been fake dating. And the last thing that I remember is our teams playing against each other for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup before fucking Red rocked my shit and sent me falling at the pitch.” 

“... Nothing like that has ever happened, babe.” His voice is low in the quietness of the room as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall, the ravenette rummaging through the thick blanket of the bed before wordlessly handing you his cellphone with the device opened up to his photo album.

Your hands tremble as you swipe against the glass screen of the muggle item, watching as a multitude of pictures go by of your pixelated smile beaming up at the camera with Stan. Steadily becoming increasingly lightheaded from the information you’re processing, you can’t help the sob that gets caught in your throat when you come to the realization that something was seriously wrong.

“These pictures—I’m not a Ravenclaw. I’m a Slytherin.” You lean your forehead against your boyfriend’s shoulder, your voice slightly hysterical and wobbling dangerously.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your body erratically shudders as you occasionally hiccup over some hot cocoa, your boyfriend making you a cup so that you can have a warm hug in your stomach after you’ve calmed down enough. His legs are on either side of your body as you lay your back against his chest, his arms around your waist as you wrap your hands around your mug for warmth.

There's a blanket thrown over his shoulders as he mumbles against the crown of your head, the both of you staring into the only light source in the room: the flickering flames of the lit fireplace. “If knocking out your head landed you in this parallel world, do you think the same thing would bring you back..?

“Are you admitting to planned domestic violence, Marsh?” You snort into your chocolate concoction, the two of you having come to the conclusion that you ended up in some sort of alternate universe from the blow after much discussion.

“I mean, we’ve gotten into fist fights with each other as kids. And sometimes it gets pretty tempting to knock you out just so that I can have some sort of peace…” Stan laughs as you blindly bring an elbow back so that you can hit him in the ribs, your boyfriend planting a quick kiss on your hair to let you know that he was just kidding.

He snickers as he corrects your earlier statement, “And wouldn’t it be animal cruelty?” 

“Fuck you! But yeah, maybe? The knocking out part—not the animal abuse one, fucker. We should probably seek out Kyle just so that I don’t end up with a brain injury first. There might be some magic out there that can fix this.” Your body leans forward to place your empty cup onto the bedside table, Stan keeping hold on your waist at the chance that you might slip.

“True. Merlin knows that you don’t have any brain cells left to spare.” He mutters around a teasing grin, your hands automatically going to his thigh to pinch him in retribution.

“I’m surprised that a fake relationship is what he came up with. That’s the most stupidest fucking thing that I’ve ever heard, and that’s saying a lot coming from someone who grew up with you.” The Gryffindor snickers to himself as he guides your body down to lay onto the bed, your head resting over his chest as he settles the comforter over the both of your forms.

“Shut the fuck up Mr. I-don’t-know-what-a-clit-is!” Your fingers curl around the fabric of the shirt covering his hips before your boyfriend eases your grip to instead intertwine with the hand of the arm he has wrapped around your waist, “... What do you mean?”

“Fuck off! I’m just saying that even if it was me from a parallel world, I’m confident that I’d still be in love with you. So I’m unimpressed at the lame fucking tactic he came up with to prevent other people from getting to you.” Your upper body lifts up so that you can rest your forearm against his torso, watching the handsome teen laying underneath you.

“... What? How can you be so sure that the you from over there shares the same feelings in the first place?” Your cheeks become heated at the confident assumption, your boyfriend just giving you an attractive grin of his own.

“Because. You act exactly like the Y/N that I know.” His large hand comes up to teasingly swipe the skin of his thumb against the soft pink of your lower lip.

“That doesn’t mean shit!” You argue, your boyfriend chuckling at your explosive reaction before using his hand to guide your face down for a quick kiss in endearment.

The expression on his face is devoid of any amusement when you part, his eyes searching yours as he takes a few moments to seriously contemplate. “... Do you want to know why I fell in love with you?”

You wordlessly nod which prompts him to switch your positions, his body now caging yours as you breathlessly lay underneath your boyfriend. His voice is quiet in its honesty, “In the beginning, I enjoyed getting a rise out of you. You become so passionate and confident in yourself whenever you get irritated that I just couldn’t help doing things to frustrate you because of the cute expression you always wore.”

One of his hands intertwines with yours from its position besides your head while the other one lightly caresses your heated cheek. “I got greedy and started picking fights whenever I could because it meant that I had your undivided attention.”

“... But what about Wendy?” Your tone matches the quietness of his despite being the only two in the room, the Gryffindor burrowing his face against the length of your neck.

“Babe, we were literally 11 when we got together. It was a first-year type of kiddie love—the kind of thing where we only hugged two fucking times during the course of our entire relationship before she sent Bebe over to let me know that we were over.” He elicits a cacophony of goosebumps along your body as he chuckles, his warm breath hitting the column of your neck as his lips move along your skin every time he speaks.

“That makes sense. He started this when Wendy tried to ask me out.” You bring a hand up to leisurely run through his hair, the hand against your waist tightening at the soothing gesture. 

He takes his head out of the safe solace of your neck, his face intimately close to yours. “See? I promise you—I’d love you in every life we were reincarnated in or in any timeline that we exist in. I’d spend all of my years looking for you in every single one and wouldn’t stop until I either found you or until death got to me first.”

Your boyfriend prompts an overwhelming rush of emotions, a thin film of tears beginning to develop in your eyes as you bring a hand to gently caress his cheek. He has that foreign look on his face that your other Stan often gets when he whispers lovingly to you. “The feelings I have for you transcends anything and everything. We aren’t just two parallel lines never meant to meet—we overlap, babe. And if whatever higher deity up there didn’t intend on that, I still wouldn’t give a fuck. I would do just about anything within my ability to make it happen. You’re mine, McCormick. And only mine.”

That foreign look—it’s an expression of love, you finally realize when he presses an affectionate kiss against your forehead, the warmth surrounding your body slowly lulling you to sleep.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your nose begins to involuntarily wrinkle in disgust, the antiseptic smell pervading your senses as it was too sterile. It was such a stark contrast to the environment that you and your brothers were raised in, along with never being granted any professional medical treatment in the muggle world due to the high costs that your mother couldn’t afford.

This caused you to drowsily force your sleep-encrusted eyes to open, your brain lagging for a moment before you could pinpoint your surroundings to the Hospital Wing at school. You begin to groan at the dull pain reverberating throughout your skull, your hands lifting up in an effort to soothe the sensation before you realize that your left hand couldn’t move.

Following your appendage, you find Stan’s larger hand tightly gripping your own. His arms are folded underneath his slumbering head to provide cushion, his larger body uncomfortably curled up in a rickety chair to grant him a position close to yours.

Your eyes begin to soften at the sight before you spot the multitude of clumsily decorated get well soon cards, neon-colored balloons, fluffy stuffed animals, and crystal vases of fragrant flowers settled across the expanse of the cabinet behind your boyfriend. In your admiration for the care that your loved ones held for you, you don’t notice the Gryffindor beside you beginning to return to the waking world.

“N/N!” You don’t have time to respond before the ravenette throws his arms around your seated body, crushing you against his firm chest as he burrows his face into your neck. 

“Missed me, Marsh?” You smirk at the enthusiastic greeting, your hands coming up to find purchase at the soft fabric of his robe.

He removes his head from the solace of your neck as he shoots you an irritated glare, his hands tightly clenched on the material of your hospital gown. “Fuck you! What the hell have you been doing?! You were out for a whole fucking day—Madam Pomfrey said you should’ve been awake by now but you were probably off enjoying your dreams!” 

Right… The Inter-House Quidditch Cup.

“What the hell happened..?” Your fingers begin to mindlessly fiddle with the creases scattered across the blanket thrown over your lap.

“... We couldn’t get to you in time. You broke an arm and had a concussion so Pomfrey gave you Skele-Gro and Essence of Dittany. I’m sorry.” There's an expression of deep regret on the ravenette’s face, his lips pursed shut and his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Shut up, that’s literally not your fault.” Reaching a hand forward, you gently caress his chin to direct his head back up.

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever. I only tried to save your ass just so that Butters and Tweek wouldn’t waste their tears over you. Kenny almost tried to fight Red—had to pull him away from the field when the game ended before the poor girl got her ass kicked by all of the guys.”

You snort in fondness, your heart immediately calling out for your brothers from the time spent apart. It’s quiet for a moment, the darkness enveloping the room apart from the lit candle on your bedside table informing you that it was night. 

Staring outside of the glass window to look at the magnificent trees aligning the sides of the castle in distraction, anxiety begins to run along your veins. “I want to cash in that one favor now.”

“Already? But we haven’t even—”

“I want to be your girlfriend, Marsh. Your real girlfriend.” Summoning as much courage as you could, you turn your head to face the Gryffindor, only to see a pretty pink beginning to spread across his cheeks and his soft lips slightly parted.

“Wha—”

“I love you.” You offer him a soft smile, planting your palm on the surface of the mattress between the two of you so you could bring your face closer to his. 

"... Somehow." You add in as an afterthought with a teasing tone, a snicker accompanying your words.

Your eyes leisurely skim across his face, admiring the way the ember hues inflicted by the flickering candle further accentuated his sharp features and the attractive way his cerulean orbs widen a fraction at your confession. Your words come out low as you continue, “I think I have since we were kids. Won’t you make my childhood dream come true and be mine?”

Your lips quirk up into a confident smirk the longer the silence stretches on between the two of you, patiently waiting for the stunned teen's response. You feel almost predatory as you greedily drink in the sight of his throat shifting to swallow and the way his tongue darts out to lick his plump lips. 

His voice slightly trembles and your smug grin grows even wider at the new expression you’ve discovered, “I…”

Cute.

“I?” You tease, your eyes half-lidded as you leisurely blink.

“Stop fucking doing that!” His hands shoot forward to cover your face, giggles erupting from your mouth at his embarrassment.

In response, you curl your fingers around his wrist and bring his hand against the skin of your cheek instead. You hold eye contact with him as you chase the warmth within his palm, nuzzling your face closer to his touch. 

“Hm?” You lazily drawl, mirth heavily coating the tone of your voice as you teasingly urge him to continue.

“I love you, too. I’ve always loved you—ever since the day Kenny introduced me to you and your siblings. I only started fucking around with you to get your attention. I was a piece-of-shit kid who didn’t know how to express his feelings so I constantly picked fights with you just to see the cute way you’d scrunch up your nose and pout whenever you got pissed. I only wanted to fake date because I got jealous when I saw Wendy trying to ask you out and fucking panicked like some kind of pussy.” 

Just like what the other Stan said, your pearly white teeth make an appearance alongside your beaming smile as you fondly think to yourself.

You delightedly giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and scooting your body across the mattress until you find yourself perched on his lap. Your face is impossibly close to his as you lowly mutter out, “I know.”

His arms curl around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. “You knew?”

“I was knocked out for longer than I needed to be because I was in a parallel world. The Stan from that universe told me that he was confident that you loved me too because he’d have feelings for me in every timeline we were born in.” Your voice drops down to a whisper, the Gryffindor tucking a stray lock of hair away from your face and leaving his touch there to gently caress your cheek.

“Damn, I have rizz even in other universes? Can’t say that I’m surprised.” You laugh out loud, breaking the intimate moment as you bring a hand to teasingly swat at his shoulder for his cockiness.

There's a fond grin on his face as he patiently waits for you to settle down, the both of you softly smiling at one another when your giggles finally cease. “What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing. Our lips did other things.” You smirk at the sight of his eyes immediately going dark from affection to possessiveness at your words, his arm tightening around your waist.

The expression on your face gets quickly wiped off as he suddenly pushes your form back against the hospital bed, his larger body hovering over yours as his jaw clenches. “Hearing that kind of pisses me off.”

“What? Are you jealous of yourself?” A surprised laugh escapes from your throat, your arms hurriedly wrapping around his broad shoulders as he presses your chests against one another.

He cuts off your giggles with a heated kiss, the sense of urgency within it knocking the breath out of your body as he hungrily devours your mouth. You can’t help but to be compliant as his teeth bites down onto your lower lip, his tongue coaxing your mouth open for a battle of dominance.

You begin to feel dizzy with how wanted he makes you feel, the sensations he brings out making you feel overloaded with intense emotions. It’s nearly overwhelming as your arms reach out to thread your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging and using the soft locks to bring him even closer. 

His ring adorned fingers curl around your chin, angling your face away as he begins to mouth along the column of your neck. The wet sounds and the noise of your quick breathing are lewd as he begins to greedily mark you for everyone to see, his teeth lightly scraping against your skin before the slight suction of his mouth causes you to softly mewl.

The Gryffidnor’s tongue languidly drags along the places of abuse before the imprints of his teeth from biting down causes you to lightly moan, his smirk accompanying the vocal approval his touch forces out. As his mouth creates his own brand of magic against your slicked skin, his hands seamlessly reach behind your body to unhook your bra (thank Merlin for the easy access your hospital gown grants him).

The raventte’s cold fingers help ground you to the moment from the thick cloud of arousal consuming every part of your body before he quickly latches his mouth around one of your newly exposed breasts. As he tongues along the bundle of nerves, his unoccupied hand comes up to massage the other side with his palm as his fingers busy themselves with pinching the nub of your nipple.

One of your hands reaches out to clumsily hold onto his wrist, squeezing at the enthusiastic onslaught inflicted from your dedicated lover. You jolt when his fingers suddenly begin to teasingly play along the hem of your lace panties, your eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming sensation of his touch in multiple places at once.

You harshly bite down onto your lip in a desperate effort to keep your high-pitched moans from spilling out of your mouth, your boyfriend smirking at the wrecked sight as he deftly pushes aside the thin fabric to collect your leaking arousal. You gasp when his face hovers above your weeping core, hot breaths of air hitting the slicked skin as he chuckles and elicits a cacophony of eager goosebumps.

“Who do you want?” He mouths along the skin of the immediate vicinity of your arousal but doesn’t bring his lips to where you need him the most, the deep baritone of his voice beautifully mixing in with the huskiness brought out by his lust.

“You! I only want you!” You desperately wail out loud, your legs locking around his broad shoulders in an effort to bring him closer. You plead while he lightly trails his fingers along the expanse of your inner thighs, his tongue teasing your entrance as he circles around it and applies slight pressure.

“Good girl. Don’t ever forget that, hm?” He rewards you with his tongue delving deeper into your folds, a savage sob ripping through your throat as he lightly sucks onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your mouth slightly parts in preparation of a very vocal whine before he sticks two fingers past your slicked lips, your mouth immediately encasing the long digits into your wet heat and obediently starting to suck. His hand pushes down onto your impatiently bucking hips, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the skin of your waist. 

A few moments later, he removes his fingers from the inside of your mouth to trail his slicked digits along your heated skin as he gently caresses your cheek. His voice leaves no space for questions or refusal, the authrorative firmness making you shiver. “Eyes on me, babe.”

You force your eyes open from its blissed out closure to see the cocky smirk of your boyfriend, your obedience allowing him to resume his previous devotion to worshipping your blessed body. “Enjoying yourself?”

As he begins to fuck you with his tongue, one of your hands shoots out to roughly pull on his dark hair which causes him to hoarsely chuckle in amusement at the rough treatment. “Fuck, you’re already so wet for me.” 

Entering a finger, Stan greedily takes in the sight of the moaning mess you became just from his mouth and hands. He couldn’t find it in himself to look away—the way your chest erratically rose and fell as it took desperate mouthfuls of air, the way your eyes were tightly clenched shut in euphoria, the way your slicked lips caught the sliver of moonlight cascading along the curves of your body from the castle's glass window.

“Pretty—I can’t fucking believe this is all mine.” There’s a smug smirk curving along his face as he watches a sheen of sweat cast a gorgeous glow over your face, perfectly complimenting the pink of your cheeks. His eyes lower further down below, leisurely taking his time to take in the masterpiece he's created before they land on the mesmerizing imagery of him dragging his finger in and out of your heat.

“You like that, beautiful?” You sound absolutely wrecked as you babble out in confirmation, lust fiercely drowning your moans as the vibrations of his amusement causes seering jolts of what feels like electricity straight to your core. 

“Yeah? Do you think my pretty baby can handle another finger?” Eager to please, you rush to nod your head as your thighs clench in anticipation for the delicious stretch that is sure to come. 

His mouth resumes its actions against your heat as he grants you another finger, angling his hand until he hits the right spots as indicated from your very vocal response. Your erratic breathing has gotten so loud, drowning out the slicked sounds your boyfriend orchestrates before your mouth opens in a wordless scream as you reach your climax.

“Fuck, babe. I didn’t even get to put three in.” He chuckles against your forehead, planting a soft kiss as he slides into the spot beside you to wrap you in his arms.

“You did so good for me. You looked fucking perfect, holy shit. Let’s make a video next time, yeah?” His husky voice trails off into a chuckle when you let out a whine, embarrassingly hiding your face against the column of his neck as he soothingly runs his fingers though your damp hair.

“What about you?” You tiredly mumble.

“What about me? I’m pretty damn sure that I can get off to just the sight of you.” He snickers into your hair.

You hoarsely whine again, bringing a weak hand up to hit him against the shoulder until he speaks again. “Next time—tonight is about you. My pretty girl deserves it after visiting a parallel world and getting injured.”

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to prove something to yourself. Who the fuck gets jealous of themselves?” You giggle.

“Fuck off!” But you can’t help the amount of amusement you find from the situation, the ravenette quickly sitting up to drink from the glass of water sitting at your bedside table. He roughly grabs onto your still laughing body as he brings his mouth against yours, pulling away with a smug grin.

He shared his drink with me to get me to shut up, you pout to yourself as you wipe away the droplets of water that escaped from your lips and swallow.

“Well you seem to still have some energy if you're still being a fucking brat. Want to continue so I can put you in your place?” The ravenette’s face gets brought closer to yours, his hands suggestively skimming along your waist. 

Before you can agree, the stark-white curtain surrounding your hospital bed gets roughly yanked opened. Tweek and Butters are desperately trying to hold back a furiously struggling Kenny, the blonde’s face red in seething anger.

The rest of the boys are awkwardly standing behind your siblings with a handful of snacks and drinks, some of them averting their eyes in embarrassment while a few find amusement at Stan's future demise. You can see Tolkien sending you an apologetic look as Kyle heaves out a tired sigh, the red-head bringing a hand up to rub at the area between his furrowed eyebrows.

“I think the fuck not, Marsh! I’m going to fucking kill you!”

[poppetsisters]

I really love Captain America think he has the one of the coolest weapons of any superhero.

Fun Fact, the original pentagonal shield he had back in the 40s had to be changed to a circular shield because John Goldwater threatened a lawsuit over Captain America's similarity to "The Shield" from Archie Comics, which he ran.

There was a claim by Stan Lee that he was the one who suggested Cap's shield be a circle so he could throw it like a frisbee, but it's really easy to fact check that. The circular shield first appeared in Captain America Comics #2 in February 10th, 1941, but Stan Lee didn't get hired to write fill-in stories for the book until a month later. It's very possible he did suggest it when he was just their office boy, but who knows.

To your point though, I have a soft spot for items with diverse utility that make sense for that type of gadget. The shield can block for defense and be thrown for offence thanks to its shape. It can be used as a bobsled or a surfboard if any situation arises in which he has to use it like that. Idk there's probably a bunch of other creative things you can do with that thing.

[deakyfloofhair]

NEW SOFT CONTENT ALERT

[jilted-love]

My sister is also a dom Kim Dokja stan. Good for her. And good for me, I finally have someone to rant to lmao.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

[kamilah-is-queen]

Would it be possible to write a Kamilah x MC fic where the roles are reversed and instead of having MC get really hurt (cause of her clumsiness 😅) Kamilah gets really hurt and MC looks over her until she is back to 100%?

I don't know if it's been done before yet, but I would love it if you could write one, if you want to of course. ❤️

Lovely request anon. Clumsy Kamilah is something the stans don’t have enough of, but I’m more than happy to oblige.

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Amy Parker)

Warnings: None

Tagging: @ta-sayeed, @kamilahtopme, @nydeiri, @genietotherescue, @rhonda-sayeed, @helpconfusedpersonhere, @millasayeed, @vonda-be-real, @livvynka, @queenkamilah, @leenasayeed, @skylarkxxyy, @choicesgrp, @ilove-kamilah-sayeed, @justavampirefan, @iamsimpforpoppy, @friendlybuddy

“Habibti, what do you fancy for dinner?”

Kamilah’s smooth voice cooed into Amy’s ear, her warm arms wrapping around the woman in a gentle embrace from behind.

“I would say you, but I think I’ll go with spaghetti and meatballs tonight.” She replied, breaking out in a grin.

Kamilah pressed soft kisses to Amy’s neck as she chuckled, heartily, into Amy’s skin. “You really are cheeky aren’t you.”

With a sarcastically long wink, she cockily replied.

“You love it.”

“And you love being punished for it.” Kamilah smirking to herself as the young woman broke out into a heated blush.

“Yeah yeah, just go before we can’t stop.” She giggled, blushing harder at the idea of another passionate round of the day.

Not long after, the aroma of sweet, fresh tomatoes and the herby richness of basil filtered through the penthouse. Kamilah didn’t waste any opportunity to use the herbs from her garden in the delicious home cooked meals she whipped up, much to Amy’s delight.

She couldn’t help but stare lovingly at her wife, her cheek upon her palm as she watched in a daze.

Kamilah frowned in concentration as she chopped and slid garlic into the sauce, prompting a subtle smile to arise on Amy’s face.

Afterwards she created a small mound of flour and began cracking, and whisking eggs into the mixture, slowly creating a dough for the noodles.

“You look so angry.” Amy giggled quietly as she watched her wife intently.

Kamilah grinned, using the pasta machine to thin out the dough. “Just concentrating, that’s all.”

The machine jammed.

The vampire tried urging the machine back on, but only worsened the problem as it started making a loud whirring sound. Before she knew it, a massive poof of flour exploded in her face, getting into her eyes and covering her face in white dust.

“Uh… Kamilah?” Amy looked on with wide eyes.

She whirled around and squinted. “Help me out, would you.” Kamilah fumbled to what she thought was Amy… but managed to somehow bump into the searing hot sauce pan.

She tried to grip onto anything to keep from falling, her hand flinging the sauce high into the air, along the walls and across the floor.

Kamilah then proceeded to slip on the tomatoes, banging her head on the counter and falling flat on her back with a loud ‘oof.’

“Kamilah! Are you okay!” Amy rushed to her side, wiping off the flour with a towel as she quickly rubbed Kamilah’s head. “That was a nasty fall.”

She chuckled out before hissing, an impressive bruise forming at the back of her head. “I’m alright.”

“Come on, let’s get you an ice pack. And takeout. Forget this stupid dinner.” Amy grumbled angrily as she aided Kamilah to the bed, making her lay down with an ice pack.

“Amy really, it’s not that bad.” She moved to get up.

“I don’t care, but you’re going to rest until you’re completely fine by my standards. I know how you are.” She narrowed her eyes before pulling the covers over her wife and gently kissing the top of her crown.

Kamilah sighed, “I suppose.” And laid her head on Amy’s chest carefully, secretly enjoying the pampering session.

Amy wouldn’t let Kamilah go. Not even an inch between them. She was extremely protective, especially when the vampire got hurt, as rare as it was.

Due to her vampire abilities, it didn’t take long for the bruise to heal but Kamilah was already fast asleep by that time anyway. Being snuggled in Amy’s arms was and would always be her idea of heaven on earth.

Amy continued to gently weave her fingers though her wife’s luscious locks, smiling at the sight. “Who would’ve known Kamilah Sayeed was such a silly softie.”

She whispered, placing a soft kiss upon the vampire’s head, before settling in to sleep herself.

However, the kitchen was still left in its disheveled state for the couple to joke and laugh about in the morning, a reminder of how usually the roles were reversed.

[angeloncewas]

feel free to totally ignore this, but im just curious on your overall view of alllll of this. most people on my dash are either on one extreme end or the other. i dont think the situation is black and white but i also dont think dream is in the right. he's developed a track record of being very immature in response to things like this. i dont hate him though, and i dont agree with people calling for his platform to be taken away

I'm going to try to word this as carefully as I can.

I do have opinions. I always do. I believe that Dream was in the right at the beginning. The comment toward Ant was no one else's business, and he replied (as many creators have done and will continue to do) to a public qrt on his own Tweet. There's some merit to other perspectives, but I'm confident in my stance here.

This is obviously a lot more than that. The situation gets harder to follow from there. I've been juggling arguments - and stand a decent chance of discussing them more - but I don't personally have much to say about it. Because, frankly, it has very little to do with me.

I understand that as someone who's been known as a Dream blog some people expect me to answer for my support when situations like these arise. And I don't think that's wrong of you necessarily (not you you, I know you just wanted to know my thoughts and I appreciate that), but I also have to make it clear that I'm not a Dream "stan" and have never considered myself one. There have been times where I was a big fan and defender for sure, and at the end of the day I don't care what you call me, but I also have gotten a lot of hate from Dream stans for criticizing him when I felt it was apt.

Not to make it about myself too much, but I have a lot of things going on in my personal life that take up the bulk of my serious focus. The serious stream was the first stream I've watched in months and I only caught it bc I was curious. In a lot of ways my feelings on Dream haven’t changed. I'm not making a grand exit (already did that) and I think deplatforming arguments are silly because they're never going to amount to anything (not to mention the vast amount of people who factually cause much, much more harm that Dream, but I digress). I also still really like discussion and all of the opinions.

But if you're asking me for my real, deep-down feelings, I don't care. I don't know him personally. I don't give him money. Some of the people in this community who dislike him seem misguided as to what creators are like. Maybe it's because mcyt is soft around the edges, but he's no different from a lot of them for better or for worse. He's just some guy who got lucky and I'm just some person who wants to watch death shuffle on occasion. There's so much needless strawmanning. There's so much shit going on that doesn't involve people going at each other on Twitter.

I think if you hate Dream, if you just don't like him, if you believe he needs to have his platform "taken away" - then do your part. Block him. Don't watch things in which he appears. Stop giving him the attention that provides him his platform. If you love Dream, if you like him, if you just casually stop by his channel every once in a while, then do that.

I'm gonna keep doing what I want, what brings me joy and what I feel is right, and I hope everyone else does the same.

[kaizzzi]

You are my sweetest Downfall: Happy Birthday to the softest Baekhyun stan @mochibaeks

Continue to shine in whatever you do. Love you! ♥

[talkfastromance4]

the way you felt** sebastian stan sneak peek

**title is subject to change and even the sneak peek below could be edited to something different. but here’s a small taste of whatever the hell this is lol. tagging @cxddlyash and @calumance because you’re being my hype girls with this!

********

The next morning, she’s awakened by goosebumps rising on her neck because his fingers are trickling up and down her arm. When she twitches, he kisses her bare shoulder until she faces him. 

She blinks up at him a few times, her mouth feels dry and she’s sure her eye makeup is damn near smudged off after last night. 

“Hi,” she mutters, a slight croak in her voice. 

“Good morning,” his voice has a sexy rasp to it and she groans. “What?” he smirks leaning his head on his hand while his other one brushes her hair over her shoulder. His blue eyes sparkle in the Hawaiian sunshine.

“No fair that you look and sound like that when you just wake up. And I’m over here a hot mess with bad breath.”

“You have bad breath? Let me see, breathe on me,” he leans forward and she covers her mouth giggling. 

“No!” her voice is muffled behind her hand and he tries to pry it away. “I’m not going to breathe on you!”

He wrestles with her a little trying to remove her hand but she’s pretty strong when necessary and this is definitely necessary. She’s pushed back against the fluffy pillows, his body hovering over hers.

Their new position makes him stop his motions

“You aren’t a hot mess,” he mumbles and kisses her fingers that are blocking her mouth. “You’re very attractive in the morning. Especially this part.”

He traces his finger over her hardened nipple that is exposed over the top of the sheet. 

“What were you dreaming of that got you excited?” he teases continuing concentric circles over the small bud. More goosebumps arise on her breast. 

“Nothing,” she sighs and lets her hand fall from her mouth. Instead, she rests it on his tan shoulder, he still smells like the beach. His skin is hot. 

“Nothing comes to mind?” he smiles devilishly before ducking his head by her breast. He flicks his tongue over her nipple, her breath hitches when he takes her nipple fully in his mouth. 

Her own fingers travel north to his soft brown hair, she tangles between the strands and yanks a little when his teeth pull on the taut skin. A small squeak bubbles from her.

“This is ringing a faint bell...” her eyes close and he bites down again. 

“This still feels good when I bite?” he asks permission and leaves wet kisses over the swell of her breast. 

“Mhm,” she sighs relishing in the delicate way his mouth moves over her. 

Then his hand moves beneath the sheet and in between her legs, she parts them easily and opens her eyes. His eyes are angled up at her, his fingers inching higher and higher up her thigh. 

“See, you’re beautiful,” he says simply then crushes his lips to hers. She gasps when his finger teases between her slit, and he slips his tongue in her mouth. 

They’re going to have another late start to their day in paradise. 

[citricacidprince]

I played though Stan's route on the Grunkle Dating Sim and holy shit I was NOT expecting it to be as soft as it was, I was practically getting cavities amdbsjd

Also, I played through as an OC of mine, Ray(mond), and he already has a backstory so I kept trying to merge his backstory and GF's and honestly it was a lot of fun!

For context about my OC, Ray's has been living out of his car since he was 18, and he's 50 now, so that's a long time. He also is watching over this kid named Blythe who's looks 8 but he was actually born in 1795 and was cursed as a kid to live forever. Blythe is a huge secret in Ray's family and has been passed around from generation to generation to protect him from monsters that keep wanting to attack him. However something bad happened when Ray was 18, so out of fear he would get in trouble, he grabbed Blythe and ran. And they haven't been off the road since! Also, Blythe is a good kid but he has the attention span of a walnut and had a habit of wandering off

As for the car, Blythe kinda sleeps in the trunk, but it's chill, like it's full of blankets and little lights, and theres a panel that pops open the back middle seat of the car so Blythe can wiggle himself into the backseat

Okay, so you got all that??? Now that you know that, I can explain why I thought the car crash scene in the dating sim was so funny to me!

So imagine this car crashes into the side of the shack cause of Ford's magnet gun, and of course he freaking out over it and is worried about the drivers safety, while Stan's like 'What did you do THIS time????' The driver is obviously disoriented as the two talk but sudden he perks up in fear

"OH SHIT THERES A KID IN MY TRUNK"

The Stan's of course are like "Excuse me what-" but before they can finish this tall guy runs to the back of the car and pulls open the trunk and, wouldn't you fucking know, there's a sleepy little kid squinting up from the trunk

MANY questions arise from this

EDIT: I REALIZE I DIDNT ADD A DOODLE OF WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE KAJDJS

Blythe's the poofy haired kid and Ray's the adult! (The other kid is from the story their from don't worry bout him-)

[leggomylino]

A Floral Memoir | Yang Jeongin

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- 

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Genre: Nostalgic, drama, bittersweet, angst, fluff ending

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x fem!reader

Au: Flower shop au, friends to lovers au

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warning(s): None! c:

A/N: This was supposed to just be a blurb/timestamp but I’ve been heavily influenced by fictional prose from my Fiction 101 class so...this happened. :D | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!! <3 | For Nana, who loves Yang Jeongin; and, for all the wonderful writers of @skzwriternet​. Thank you all for being so supportive and kind. God bless. 🎔

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ @jisungsjheekies​ @iluvlix​ @moonlit-han​ @stay-nctzen​ @yangomangos​ @stayndays​ @cotccotc​ @skzctnightnight​ @multi-stan-present​ @dreamy-dreamies​ @yunhoesss​ (If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Comment, ask, or DM me!!! ^^)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem, the slanted posture threatening to drop dead over the next teenager that pursues vandalism; still, to you it’s never unrecognizable, no matter how many years of wear-and-tear or lost du jour go by. To you, it’s the most beautiful place in the world: not for what is shown on the outside, but for what lies there within. What it stands for, represents.

This is the local flower shop of 129 Poppy Close Lane. And it is the place you grew up in, blooming alongside Yang Jeongin.

Jeongin had been your best friend growing up. The two of you did almost everything together: ride bikes, watch movies, play in the park. Feed the ducks, hop around like frogs, climb trees. Hide in your mother’s laundry basket in order to jump out and scare the daylights out of her-- which only backfired once when she nearly had a heart attack-- to which you vowed never to do ever again. Instead, the two of you set your sights on the neighbor’s son, a boy of roughly similar age named Kim Seungmin. But that always seemed to backfire as well. Kim Seungmin was simply too smart.

The day Innie’s parents-- that was your nickname for him, sometimes I.N.-- the day his parents announced they’d be buying out a crumbling furniture store, the two of you had been so excited. Think of all the beds you could jump on! All the sofas to tackle! The pillow fights! The two of you could make the largest blanket fort in the history of blanket fortresses!!! 

...Instead, those dreams were crushed like petals pressed between pages. You weren’t getting a mattress playground; they were opening a flower store.

A flower store? But aren’t flowers free? Don’t they grow outside? The two of you prodded and pestered Jeongin’s parents until they ran out of answers to give, and instead only replied with “you’ll see” and “just wait.” But if there was one thing the two of you hated doing, it was waiting. Why did you have to? Wait for what?

...Time flies when you eventually forget about the thing it is you have to wait around for, too occupied curling toes beneath blankets by a roaring fire or towering blocks into Lego houses. After a few days of lazing around with Jeongin at your house and a short afternoon bike ride through the park, at last the shop of flowers was revealed to you. And it...was…

...Okay. Colorful, vibrant, definitely eye-catching, at least back in those just-starting-out days. But you still didn’t get it at the tender age of ten. Of course you’d heard of flower stores before, but the point escaped you. Couldn’t you just grow your own for free? Couldn’t you just ride to the park and take some from the woods? Why would you sell something you could obtain for free? Who would waste their allowance on that?

Jeongin was different. You remember looking over at him, standing to your right, and seeing his face alive and bursting with more color than the shopfront. The way his eyes sparkled as he took it all in, the pride that seemed to blossom in his smile and the way he carried himself. Straight, tall, and happy, just like the sunflowers waving outside the window. It was off-putting to say the least, but you felt gratified just watching him elate and gush his excitement. So you upheld that same excitement, too.

Years went by of the two of you hanging out in that place; Little Fox Flowers, it was called. Appropriately named for the son of the two owners who spent their days happily snipping away sadness and making the lives of all its customers just a bit brighter. A place where all the local college-bound kids would apply for part-time jobs in order to live out their novel fantasies, hoping for a quiet place to smell the roses after a long day of notetaking and hide behind the hollyhock to study.

They were always kindly denied. After all, the shop was a family business: just Mr. and Mrs. Yang, Jeongin, and you, who had been considered the daughter they never had since you were six. And, eventually, Kim Seungmin, who won everyone over with cake and the “look-at-how-responsible-I-am” presentation. He was responsible, no one could deny: the way he’d always turn you and Jeongin in before you could commence danger-inducing experiments.

And then, at fourteen, it was the three of you. You got paid, of course-- just scarcely minimum wage, but that was alright, because Mr. and Mrs. Yang always bought you lunch or dinner every other Friday. And the mean apple pie and best empanadas baked by the kind elderly couple who worked just across the street was to die for. (A side note: you’d find out two years later this was the place Kim Seungmin got his cake recipe from in exchange for helping fix a leaky faucet. The devious scoundrel.) The three of you worked and worked and studied and worked, spending perhaps too much time learning the wildest things about each other, things you were surprised you never knew of Jeongin, things you’d never guess about Kim Seungmin (you didn’t refer to him as just Seungmin until you were sixteen).

Jeongin was a fan of rock music. Kim Seungmin enjoyed more than a good book and ratting out his neighbors. Jeongin actually studied flowers in his free time, more than just what he learned passively working in a floral shop. Kim Seungmin was actually a prankster himself.

They learned things about you as well: how you preferred sunrises to sunsets, how you collected music boxes, how you kept a diary the two of them would never get to read, and now that they knew about it, were no longer or henceforth ever allowed in your room. This brought joy and laughter the color of fresh-sprung poppies to their faces...and a curious tint of rosehip to the cheeks of Yang Jeongin.

You distinctly remember the way he stared at you, two seconds too long before he looked away, to the flower arrangement before him, a smile never leaving his face. Spooked, you buried yourself back behind the front desk, occasionally peeking at his reflection through the storefront window.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

At seventeen you’re all sweating bullets over SATs and TCIs and ACTs and every other stress-fueled test that exists in the better education realm. The three of you are taking turns quizzing each other and flicking foreheads or slapping wrists after getting an answer wrong. When the owners announce they’re heading home to finish up errands and get dinner started, you take turns in the final few store hours managing the front desk: two cramming backstage, one holding the reins out front. It’s in solitude that Seungmin tells you he’s decided to go to Harvard University, and possibly Yale if he finishes with a 4.1 GPA. At this you want to smack him, but at the same time, tell him not to go. It wouldn’t break your heart to see him go, but what’s wrong with your local university? Or a university just an hour out of town?

He tells you it’s something he’s always wanted, and heartily decided, so you take his hand in yours and wish him the best. It’s not a problem; Harvard and Yale aren’t too far away. 

The real problem arises when they switch, and with Seungmin running the front desk and helping late-blooming customers, it’s Jeongin who tells you he won’t be going to college at all. “I’ve decided to travel,” he says. “I want to explore new cultures. I want to hear other kinds of music. I want to see other types of flowers.”

At this, you deadpan. Blink a few times, just to make sure that registered. “You...want to leave the country?”

“It’ll sort of be like studying abroad-- hey, maybe that’s what I’ll do. Study abroad. I’ll be able to see lots of things that way. There’s a program that can accept me right away if I apply before midnight.”

“Jeongin…”

You frown. You can’t help it. Jeongin? Leaving you behind? You aren’t about to lose both of your best friends; especially not Jeongin, who to you was Innie, I.N., the boy with the messy black hair and slightly bad attitude, and many other things. 

His stare says everything for him, his smile drooping like perennial flowers. “You don’t like the idea.”

It’s not a question; it’s a statement. “That’s not true. I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

He gets up, leaving the room. There’s an odd sense of finality as he exits.

“...I’m gonna see if Seungmin needs any help.”

“......”

You wince a little, even today, recalling the way he soft-slammed the back door. It was the last time you saw him, for the span of three long years.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It goes by too fast. Before you know it, you’ve reached the big two-O. Twenty is that odd age where you’re not sure about anything. Are you an adult? Are you still a kid? What age group do you fit into? What are you even doing with your life?

You’d chosen to major in botanical science. The flowers of the shop had ended up placing their roots into you. And being the sentimental gal that you were, you could never find yourself tearing away from your roots-- it was how flowers wilted and died. 

So when Yang Jeongin reappeared on the shop porch one morning, looking fresh as a daisy, you could hardly believe your eyes. He must have been put in one heck of a vase of Miracle Grow and holy water to have survived away from the garden for so long. At first, you’re ecstatic to see him-- at first. But then you remember what he did to you: the way he just walked out of the breakroom, clocking out without you noticing, not answering your texts, ignoring your calls, only to find out the next day he’s insanely hopped onto the morning train and booked a flight for Beijing. Part of a study program, his parents said. Very last minute, they explained. We’re so sorry, they lamented.

The only means of contact you’d received were a cloying box of exotic chocolates and a note from Jeongin that first year, along with a music box you couldn’t bring yourself to ever listen to. It ended up thrown into your closet, shadowed in a great tub with all the other ones. The note said something along the lines of an apology and explained he’d lost his phone during a boat ride that first week, and the strict program he was enrolled in didn’t allow him to contact friends; only immediate family. He’d had to lie to his advisors and tell them you were his adopted sister, which you suppose wouldn’t have been a lie once upon a time. After that, you’d only get an awkward “Jeongin says hello,” from his parents, who felt just as uncomfortable about the estranged situation. They’d assure you he was doing well and just going through a phase. He was angry. He acted irrationally, just the one time. They knew how important this was to him. He’d come back around, he really cared for you, after all.

Seeing him now made your head spin. You had to grip the cash register nailed into the hardwood so you wouldn’t fall over. “You’re...You’re back. You’re here. In the shop.”

He dropped his bags near the front door as if the place was his second home. Just like it always had been. “I’m back. Here. In the shop,” he repeated, an urgent longing in his actions.

The smile he wore never left his face as he rushed over to you...then paused, fearfully, his hands frozen in an awkward state of half-reaching and half-retreating. 

“Y/n…” He sighed, his breath a multitude of years lost. “...I’m sorry. I have no right to walk in here like nothing happened. You have every right to be angry. Are you angry?”

That was a good question. Were you angry? You should have been. You had every right to be, just like he said. This may have been his family’s store, but it was your second home, too, and you may as well have been a part of the family; you had every right ignore him or tell him to get out, to scream and demand answers, or even to cry and weep like the weeping willow tree out back.

Instead, you felt nothing. And everything. It was too much, so much strange emotion and Twilight Zone madness packed into a single punch that you smiled and simply replied, “I’m fine. How can I help you today?”

It came out sounding like you were the one asking for help. Jeongin seemed to catch wind of this too, distressed eyes staring into yours as if seeking a hidden entrance through the new roadblock to your mind. For the longest time, the two of you didn’t say anything.

Things got really awkward when Seungmin showed up on one of his monthly visits-- he ended up going to Harvard, but he still visited you every month and bothered to keep in touch-- and sensing the tension after a surprised gasp of excitement, uncomfortably shuffled to the back of the room with the excuse he’d get to work on the shop’s monthly revenue, assisting with the finances as part of his accountant training (a side gig to his major in criminal law). What resulted with the silent clicking of the door was the clicking of your own. 

You clocked out, texting Seungmin the location of the shop’s spare key and asking him to do you this one favor. Then to meet you downtown for a slice. As you swung onto the Vespa your parents had given you on your nineteen birthday, you observed Jeongin, in the shop’s reflection, through the rearview mirror, as he stood there, absorbing and deploring his loss.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It’s now midday, a few months later, and you haven’t seen or spoken to Yang Jeongin since. Even if he did live down the street, in your mind he’d been cast from the garden, turned into fertilizing soil. He hadn’t tried to contact you since, and neither had you found yourself hovering over the call option, only to toss the phone away with an agitated moan. You didn’t know how to overcome the foreign distance between you two, or at least you hadn’t...until today.

Today, well, you still didn’t really know how to go about it. But despite your temporary closure to any and all things Yang Jeongin, you did a lot of thinking about that day, when he’d just shown up out of nowhere, sprouting like the happiest weed on the planet, fearfully trying to patch things up. It wasn’t forced or out of pity or selfish guilt. It was as true as the blue roses you’ve had to convince more than a few customers were not spray-painted or artificially made. Jeongin had made a big, unlike-Jeongin mistake, one lasting far too long, but it was still the first (and last; you’d be sure of that). There had to be more to the story than what appeared above the ground. 

You should never judge a rose for its petals, Mrs. Yang once told you. It may still be blooming.  

You’re parking your bike in its usual place in front of the store, locking it to the bike rack Mr. Yang had installed-- your Vespa got destroyed while letting Seungmin take it for a joyride-- and you push open the familiar glass door, the sweet chime of the old silver bell singing overhead. Jeongin looks up at you from around a middle-aged man at the register, his voice falling an octave late.

“Welcome i-- ...n.”

It’s that same awkward tension all over again, but you try to smile through it, for friendship’s sake. After holding open the door for the parting customer, you make sure the door is locked before nervously wringing your hands halfway to the counter.

Jeongin takes your actions in alarm, bracing himself against the register as you had just a few months prior. Funny how times change. “...What’s going on? What are you gonna do?”

...As if you were going to rob or beat him. You’d thought about doing so with one of the giant sunflowers, three month before, but would never risk harm to the flower. “I…” A sigh. “...Can we talk?”

There’s an arrangement waiting for pickup or delivery sitting at the edge of the counter. Jeongin stares intently at the wooden space before casting his gaze to the flowers. He lifts them, crossing the bouquet over his face to the other side. You’re not entirely sure what he’s doing until he hands the bundle to you. “I can’t leave the shop right now...could you make this delivery for me? The address is on the tag.”

“......” You accept the bouquet awkwardly. “...Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll clock you in, so you get paid.”

“No...don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

He nods, slowly, just barely managing an unstable means of eye contact. “...Thanks.”

And so you walk out of the store, unlocking the door and hopping onto the shop’s delivery vehicle. It’s more a less like a Vespa, just older and a bit outdated. Securing the flowers in the protective shell container (a basket with a clear, wind-resistant lid), you snapped on the helmet and started the engine, making a hard right into the street. 

It occurs to you as you're driving that you didn’t bother to look at the address in your haste to escape an uncomfortable situation gone wrong. So much for talking things out and tackling your problems head-on. That really worked out well. You squint beneath the afternoon glare reflecting off the lid, but the address is written so tiny and messily you have to pull over and open the basket in order to get a better look.

279 Blueberry Street.

You just about dropped those flowers, gripping them a bit too tight so that a few stray thorns poked your fingers. 279 Blueberry Street was...well. 

It was Jeongin’s address.

...You had no idea what was going on, but intuition told you it was something fishy, something planned and arranged just as carefully as this cliché arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath. Typical and predictable, just like the old Yang Jeongin.

You’d bite. You drove the scooter across town and into your neighborhood, parking in the drive behind Mr. Yang’s Nissan. You remember taking many car trips around town and into neighboring cities in the backseat, Jeongin at your side, dropping fries and Cheerios and frozen yogurt all over the protective mats and onto each other. With a frustrated huff, you scurry to the front porch.

Maybe this is a crazy coincidence. Maybe Mr. Yang ordered flowers for his wife. Maybe Mrs. Yang got flowers for her husband. Maybe they both ordered them for Jeongin, as part of a gift to commemorate something you were once, for the first time in your life, unaware of. Or maybe you’d read the address wrong. Maybe it was Bluebell Street or Bellberry Street or something entirely different, and you were delusionally tripping because, hah, what else had been new over the course of the past few months...few years. Maybe...maybe--

A warm light envelops you as the door swings open, and you’re instantly hit with the nostalgic scent of fresh lavender and spring-time strawberries. The candles that Mrs. Yang loves to buy.

Jeongin’s eyes are strained, but there’s a new warmth about them that feels familiar. Like a withered blossom sprouting back to life. He’s no longer dressed in his work apron and usual uniform; instead he’s freshly showered, wearing Church clothes, his dark hair still wet and tangled to a messy frame around his face. There’s a comb stuck to the back of his head, and following your stare he removes it with a sheepish chuckle, tossing it somewhere towards the living room and attempting to tame wild curls in a more presentable manner. He smiles, tenderly.

“You made it...I was worried you’d think it was a mean joke.”

“Well…” You consider. “I almost did. But there are infinite possibilities out there, right?”

His smile blooms. Taking the smallest rose, he checks it for thorns before tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah,” he says, “There definitely are. Come in, please...there’s a lot of things I need to apologize for. Starting with the whole disappearing for three years and...yeah.”

You supplement his cringe with a frown, then thinking about the ridiculous letter, imagine him beneath flickering candlelight, frantically scrawling down a horrifically worded letter in secrecy. You think about him in Barcelona nervously pacing between bustling touristy streets and getting lost or ripped off and wanting to scream at the stupidity of his actions and lack of Spanish. You imagine him in a woodshop in Berlin, flipping through a dictionary and pointing to words he can’t begin to pronounce and the amount of frustration cooked up from having to go through five woodsmiths until he found one that spoke just a bit of a broken language he understood, and the funny game of Pictionary that probably followed. 

You laugh, shoving his shoulder on the way in and hurrying into the kitchen for a vase. After placing the display on the counter, you grab his collar, kissing his cheek. 

His face burns the shade of chrysanthemums, wide eyes wondering what it was he did to deserve such a reaction. To you, he had more or less abandoned you, after all.

But you know better. You’ve known Yang Jeongin since you were five years old; when he knocked over a bottle of glue onto your summer dress after trying to hand you the paper flower he’d made. When things seem bad, they’re never personally intended. They’re never what they really seem. And you should have remembered that, too.

He spins you around now, and the two of you laugh, laughter echoing down the cream-colored halls all the way to the back garden. Back to a simpler time; a time when the two of you were just kids, pushing each other on the big oak swing and tackling each other in mud, smiling amongst the flowers.

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, it’s covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem. 

It’s the place where you and Yang Jeongin reside, never again apart, for the rest of your days. ✿

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[jackoshadows]

Here’s the thing Jonsas don’t seem to get. Jon and Sansa don’t even seem to like each other let alone love each other in the books. Jonsas keep writing about how they understand that Jon and Arya love each other as siblings but they ship Jon and Sansa because they don’t love each other like that – while completely ignoring the reason for why they don’t love each other like that!

Jon and Sansa are each other’s least favorite sibling. That is book canon fact.

This happened because Sansa bullied and mocked Jon’s beloved little sister for being ugly and non-conformist. So much so that Jon had to put aside his own pain and reassure Arya that she was not a bastard because of her looks.

The very idea that Jon is in love with Sansa because she’s beautiful and traditionally feminine is repulsive and paints Jon as shallow and inconsiderate of the real pain that Arya experienced. Given how much Jon loves Arya this is just not possible and if you think it is, then you don’t understand Jon Snow as a character.

Sansa is Jon’s least favorite sibling because of Sansa’s dehumanization of Jon Snow and making sure he knew his place as a bastard born to a common mother.

Jon’s sexist disregard for ladies conforming to patriarchal ideals did not arise in a vacuum. It’s not that Jon dislikes Cat and Sansa because he dislikes conformist ladies. It’s the other way around – he dislikes conformist ladies because of his dislike for Cat and Sansa.

There is an actual Jonsa meta about how Jon’s friends are Satin and Sam and therefore this shows he loves Sansa.

So, for a man who supposedly doesn’t like the “ladylike, princess/damsel in distress type” in a woman, Jon Snow has a very strong will to protect Samwell and Satin, two boys considered soft and weak with a lot of feminine inclinations whose descriptions match Sansa’s bit by bit

🤣

Like I said missing the complete point of Jon Snow as a character. He befriends Sam and Satin because they were punished and looked down on by society based on their looks and abilities. Jon identifies with them as someone punished by society because of his birth. He thinks Sam and Satin should be judged based on their merit and actions rather than on their birth, looks or physicality.

On the other hand, he sees Sansa as the oppressor not the oppressed. He saw her as a privileged classist who bullied his little sister and treated him as less than. That’s why comparisons between Jon’s relationships with Sam, Satin and Sansa make no sense.

Also, I like how Jonsas are trying to find ways to excuse Jon’s sexism. Jon shows utter contempt for girls like Sansa here:

A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her

And yet here they are shipping their fave with a sexist dude. These are the same people who cry all the time – like all the fucking time – about how everyone hates Sansa only because she’s a girly girl. But here’s an actual character in the books who does hate girls like Sansa because they are girly girls and Jonsa stans are shipping him with Sansa. This more than anything show what two faced hypocrites Jonsa stans are.

Jon and Arya were a team against the way Cat and Sansa treated them. Standing up for each other and defending each other. Arya stands up for Jon against Sansa and Jon is there for Arya when she goes to him for solace and comfort. That’s where their pure, unconditional love for each other comes from. That’s why Arya KNOWS that Jon will want her back even if no one else does. That’s why Jon thinks that Arya’s home is with him.

So, the reason people don’t ship Jon and Sansa that way is because they don’t even like each other in the books, Sansa was a bully who treated Jon and Arya badly and Jon dislikes her for it, they never got along, they are not going to get along, Jon looks down on girls like Sansa with contempt,  Jon thinks of Sansa like 5 times in his 42 POV chapters and does not give a damn about her or her situation, Sansa thinks of Jon like 3 times over 5 books and forgot about him, GRRM has invested everything in Jon and Arya’s relationship in the books and nothing, zero, zilch in Jon and Sansa’s.

You want to ship it as a crackship? Fine. But stop with the mind-numbingly idiotic metas to prove how much Jon loves Sansa because he loves Samwell Tarly and Satin and Sansa = Satin this means that Jon loves Sansa. The only thing this proves is that people on this hellsite have worms for brains.