#something about it makes you very tense and you will be stiff the next day

[echokelly]

I think the half poetry/half brain dump I wrote in my notes the morning after I took acid for the first time is one of my favourite poems I've ever written, and it was not intended to be that. I wrote it while I was walking home the next day, still tripping, and I just found it in my notes so here u go.

the night before the eve of moving out of my childhood home, I took a tiny piece of paper and ground it between my teeth, it was barely big enough to tear, the size of my bandmate's pupil, a speck in the floating sea of the summer night. later on that night, I'd say their pupils were massive, able to fit whole suns. or a tiny piece of paper.

two nights before I moved out of my childhood home, a tiny piece of my soul with ginger hair could not stop laughing at how my sandals squeaked when I walked and marveled at the colours in the water, and I wanted to touch the same stars and planets as they were.

I did. they tasted like ice-cold Pepsi from a bottle, chasing away the sweat that kept pooling in the crooks of my elbows.

two nights before I moved out of my childhood home, the world looked like someone reached a hand into my brain, and turned up the saturation levels. the lights of the hot tub had never been this dazzling. I can still picture it so clearly, teals and oranges. my friend smiled at me gently as the world lit up.

two nights before I moved out of my childhood home I was in a headrush, a kaleidoscope of muffled giggles and then my bandmate said "Look down".

"my feet don't look like feet anymore"

and two nights before I moved out of my childhood home I could not care less about what my feet were doing, they certainly weren't on earth anymore,

because the floor looked like it was breathing

and when I wiggled my toes, the carpet rippled out away from my feet like liquid sand, and the walls melted diagonally.

two nights before I moved out of my childhood home, I ignored all my better judgment and looked at myself in the mirror. they tell you not to, that it'll screw with you, send you into a bad trip. my friend led me in with them, and we stood in the bathroom together, holding hands, giggling uncontrollably. I think I looked beautiful. I also thought my eyes were way too big and my skin looked wrong, but none of that mattered.

they feel like a childhood friend though I've only known them a few years. I don't know how that happened. I'm glad it did.

two nights before I moved out of my childhood room, I had a private browser tab open on my phone to "What To Expect The First Time You Take LSD". I haven't needed to use a private browser in years, but a nagging voice in the back of my head tells me my mom will know if I don't.

I'm walking home now, from my friend's house. I chose to walk because I don't think my stomach can handle a car right now. the heat of the sun still doesn't feel quite right. neither does the fact that I'm moving out tomorrow. I think that's scarier than the trip I just went on. I think in still on it.

if you're ever in my shoes, don't overlook the insomnia part of that article.

[beenbaanbuun]

pussy drunk w/ mingi

back on my munch!mingi shit… send help

——————————————————————————

no one is as insane about pussy drunk mingi as i am… swear to god mingi has just been on my mind all day and i need to get my thoughts off my chest.

like i fully believe that this man always goes into it believing he’s going to be strong. pull one, maybe two orgasms out of you with his mouth before moving on and sticking his cock in you. he’s not going to get carried away… not this time!

but then he actually gets in between your legs and he can see your pretty pussy squeezing around nothing, pushing your clear juices out of you. he watches the way they dribble down your slit, slicking up your pussy and the inside of your thighs, and this man just groans; he knows he’s already lost the battle.

he dives in, starting off with soft kisses and tiny little kitten licks to your clit, but his head is already hazy, and with the best will in the world, this man already knows he’s fucked. all it takes is for the first moan to slip from your lips and he’s thinking, fuck it. maybe next time he’ll be stronger. maybe next time he’ll be able to stop the way his big hands land on your hips as he licks a wide stripe up your slit. maybe next time he’ll be able to resist slipping into the desperate state of mind he always does when your pussy is in his mouth.

he’s messy with it after that. absolutely nothing is calculated, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. it absolutely does, from the way he sloppily makes out with your folds to the way he probes your hole with his tongue. he clearly knows how to please you, even if the only thing on his mind right now is his own pleasure. maybe it’s just his passion, or maybe he’s just naturally gifted.

and sometimes, he’ll even manhandle you and push you into your front. no particular reason, but he likes having something to ground him and you being face down, ass up gives his hands perfect access to your ass cheeks. his huge hands are just cupping them, massaging and squeezing and smacking as he literally devours you. sometimes he’ll dig his nails in to the soft flesh, adding just the perfect amount of pain to make you tense up and squeeze out even more of your juices for mingi to slurp up.

not that he has a preference whether you’re on your front or your back; either way, you know that he’s having the time of his life with his face deep in your pussy. you can tell by the sounds he makes. obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by a mixture of deep groans and out-of-character high pitched moans. your own pretty whines can barely be heard over mingi’s desperate cries, but you don’t care; the fact that mingi is audibly enjoying it just as much as you only adds to your pleasure.

speaking of pleasure, mingi gets his from rutting desperately against the mattress like a bitch in heat. he’s rock hard from the moment he started, but he can’t bear to pull his mouth away for long enough to slip his dick inside of you, so the bed sheets will have to do. he’s always quick to cum, and even quicker to get hard again. the poor boy is always practically crying from overstimulating himself by the time he’s finished with your pussy; it’s not his fault you make him so painfully stiff.

but it’s not just himself he seems intent on overstimulating; he always pushes you to your very limits too. it’s never intentional, and it’s always just him getting lost in the moment and filled up with pathetic desperation for just more but it’s safe to say he won’t be stopping until you’re desperately pushing him away. you’ll be whining and kicking your feet and desperately pushing at his head, and all of a sudden he’ll snap out of his hunger and slip back into reality, sheepishly pulling away as if he hadn’t been behaving like a starving man seconds prior.

“too much?” he always asks as he pulls away. he always prays that you never say ‘yes’, and to this day you haven’t. it’s a good thing; he never wants to push you too far, even though he could quite happily sit between your thighs for days if you let him. he’s happy to just lie by your side with you slowly dropping to sleep in his arms for now, though. you need a rest, and now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure his jaw does too. even smiling aches now, but he can’t help himself as he watches you tuck yourself into his chest, soft snores leaving your lips.

[fungateshortcakes]

Fight or flight (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Summary: Your sister invited you and your husband Logan to her wedding! Too bad that the wedding was held in your hometown, which was days away from america if you drove by car. There was no other option than to use a plane - Logan wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Warnings: implied sexual themes (Blowjobs, anal fingering), flight anxiety, possible spelling mistakes bc english Isn't my first language, overall just comforting fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

Authors note: Does anyone want to peg Logan? Or have some sub!Logan stuff in general? I would write something like that because I have seen so little fics of it, but that makes me wonder if that’s even something people want :/ #JusticeForSubLogan

__________________________________

Logan hated this, he was only doing it for you. Your sister was getting married tomorrow and invited you and Logan to take part at the ceremony. Very nice of her, that also wasn't the issue. The problem was - she was getting married in your hometown, which was days away from america if you drove by car.

So that's why Logan found himself in a plane that was just about to take off.

You had booked a three-seat row to be a bit more comfortable on the eight-hour flight. You could store your bags on the empty middle seat between you and Logan to have free range of motion for your feet and legs. While you sat at the window, he was the furthest away from it. He couldn't bear to see the ground thousands of feets below you, it made his skin crawl.

He had fastened the seatbelt to the point where it was noticeably too tight against his abdomen, but it gave himself a sense of security. That and his right hand clawing at the arm rest while his left hand was crushing squeezing yours as if he was pushing out a baby. He certainly breathed like that was happening right now.

"Relax, the plane hasn't even started to move yet" you giggled softly, wincing at his strong grip. It definitely was a sight to see your husband all tense and stiff next to you, his chest heaving like he had run a marathon. It was amusing and pitiful at the same time.

He gritted his teeth and huffed, trying to calm himself. "We're gonna crash" he pressed out, looking down to his feet. "We are not gonna crash" you told him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. You knew about his past regarding planes and flying in general, that it was traumatic for him. Not to mention his fear of hights that made him feel anxious like nothing else. He felt sick to the stomach, like he was about to throw up. His chest was thight and he couldn't help the laboured breaths escaping him. You weren't doing this to see him suffer, but you weren't about to travel for a week by car and boat just to be at your sisters wedding for a day and traveling back for a week to america.

You lifted his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles soothingly. "Nothing will happen to you, nothing will happen to me. I promise"

He scoffed. "I hate you for putting me through this"

You nodded your head and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I know" you cooed. "Don't think I am doing this for fun. But at least she is my only sister to get married, so when we are back in america, you won't have to set foot in a plane for a long while, okay?"

Your words only did a little to sooth his nerves, but he nodded his head anyway. It was one, sharp nod followed by a thick swallow. Logan jumped as the plane started moving suddenly, getting out of his parking spot and heading to the departure zone. He pressed his eyes shut and held his breath, mumbling something to himself you couldn't make out.

You rubbed your hand up and down his arm, softly shushing him. You felt a bit useless in this situation. You wanted to help him, but there was no way you could. Nothing you would say would take his fear and anxiety away, but you were determinded to make it better.

The closer the plane got to the departure zone, the faster was Logans breathing. A few flight attendents passing through had been worried about him, asking if he needed something. But he was so scared he couldn't even answer nor look at them.

"First time flying" you lied awkwardly and asked for a pair of earplugs for him. They were brought to you shortly before the plane was starting to become faster, speeding down the lane and picking up the pace. Logan was busy doing some breathing excercises so he wouldn’t completely pass out. That would have been a better option though, because the second the plane took off and gained more and more distance from the ground, his ears ached like a dagger had been rammed into one ear and went out the other. He hissed deeply at the change of pressure, his grip on the armrest nearly cracking the plastic. For others, the pressure gave them a mild headache, but with his heightened sense of hearing, this was torture, like his skull was slowly ripping apart at the seams.

You shoved your bags on the middle seat under your feet and put the armrests up between the seats so you could pull Logans head closer to you. You twisted the earplugs into his ears and held his head against your chest, one arm looped back over his shoulder and covering his eyes, the other on his chest, feeling the strong and erratic thumpthumpthump of his heart. You kissed the crown of his head, your hand moving from his heart to his arm, softly rubbing and squeezing. He whined softly in your grip at the pain the change of pressure brought him. It was still there, but not as bad.

"Shh, I know. It's gonna be over soon. I won't ever take you on a plane again, I'm so sorry" you whispered to him. "Once that wedding is over and we get to the hotel room, I'm gonna make you re-live our own honeymoon. Gonna make you feel good, I'm gonna make you cum so much to make you forget this experience. I want to make it up to you, baby" you cooed into his ear, your quiet voice only muffled, but he heard you anyway. The image of you handling his cock flashed across his mind. When you were really into pleasuring him, nothing could pull your mouth off his dick. You would be busy devouring him, a few fingers loosening up his tight hole while your tounge circled the throbbing, angry red tip of his cock, making him cum his brains out by just pressing the pads of your fingers against that delicious sweet spot inside him. And you wouldn't stop until he only remembered your name.

He shuddered in your grasp and only a small smile pulled at his lips. Well, at least there was something to look forward to. And he was sure you'd pamper him for fighting through this.

As the plane was at it's desired height, his headache lessened and you were able to let him go to sit up straight again, but not before he gave you a soft, thankful kiss. He was a bit calmer now, not as rigid anymore. All thanks to you. He could do this...but only if you continued to hold his hand and smile at him as if there was not a single thing to worry about in this world.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Cuddling with 141 (+Roach!)

Summary: How I think Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost and Roach would cuddle + little blurbs.

Word Count: ~ 2.1k

Warnings: None!

A/N: wrote this at 2am😭 hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀

- Tries his hardest to act tough and scary, but only because that’s how a Lieutenant is supposed to act. Or at least that’s what he thinks.

- Also isn’t sure how to cuddle, never saw his dad trying to do anything other than abuse his mom, and his brother was dead before he could ask him for any advice.

- As stiff as a board, has no idea what to do, just awkwardly sitting and glancing at you, increasingly concerned.

- Would eventually get the hang of it only after Johnny made fun of him for being so awful with it, did it just to spite his beloved Sergeant (also practiced cuddling with Johnny, obviously just for practice, nothing more.)

- Likes being the little spoon.

It had been one hell of a mission, 141 barely finding a safe house to rest in for a few hours and restock their weapons and ammo before having to move again. A few more hours, and though Simon knew he should be resting, he couldn’t get his brain off of alert mode, so he settled for watching the game on the telly, even if it was in Spanish. He was mostly fluent, anyway.

You had plopped down next to him after a few minutes, mumbling something about cleaning your gun, taking a rag to wipe it down and try to clear it out, your hands soon slipping down as your eyes dropped.

The other boys had gone off somewhere else in the safe house, probably to find a bed or secure it further like he should be doing right now, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and shake you off.

You eventually went fully limp, head banging against his shoulder, somehow now waking you even then as you mumbled something, hand slipping towards your gun’s trigger. It was then that he moved, but not to get up, simply to gently pry the firearm from your hand as he clicked the safety on and let it drop to the floor.

The game blared in the background, but Simon was more focused on you, still leaning into him, and the fact that he was even entertaining this. His muscles were stiff, quickly growing sore and agitated at him after the constant use of the day. Slowly, he relaxed, finding that you melted into his body a lot easier when he wasn’t tensed up completely.

Slowly sliding one arm around your waist, obviously just to make sure you didn’t fall off the couch, nothing more, Simon leaned his head back against the couch, his own honey-brown eyes fluttering shut soon enough as he found enough peace of mind for an hour or two of rest.

Not much, but a welcome reprieve.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish 🧼

- Has no shame at all. Will cuddle you during exfil in front of everyone with no care.

- Very clingy, and also a living furnace. Good to have in the winters, since he keeps you warm, but a nightmare in the summers.

- Will whine like a puppy if you refuse to cuddle with him for heat reasons or whatever, absolutely desperate, golden retriever of a man.

- Definitely see him as the type to enjoy lying on top of you, or being the big spoon, but is down to experiment with anything you want. And I mean everything. Frighteningly open to experimentation.

- Sleeps wild or like a rock, no in between.

Of course, they’d sent Task Force 141 and their one notoriously cold-sensitive member out to Russia, staking out for any sign of a recent contract signed between them and Germany, an agreement for some form of biochemical weapon that could be catastrophic in the wrong hands.

“Doin’ alright over there, Shivers?”

You heard a Scottish voice ask from the crunchy grass you were all lying in, Gaz and Price twenty feet to your left, Ghost twenty to your right, you and Johnny right next to each other. You could see your own body shaking, feeling the ground leach out any remaining warmth from it despite your thick clothing.

“Yeah, just-t-t cold.”

You saw Ghost glance back at you, probably having heard your teeth chattering from over there. You heard the radio hiss before his voice sounded.

“When I said stay frosty, I didn’t mean it literally.”

His deadpan tone said, earning a hushed bark of laughter from Johnny, and Price shooting you a sympathetic look with Gaz. You sighed.

“Very funny-y, Ghost.”

You mumbled, not even bothering to say it over the radio. Warm palms encompassed your wrists before you could do anything to stop it, and Johnny moved in closer.

“What’re you-?”

“Ain’t gonna be any use to us as a popsicle, eh Shivers?”

You felt the weight of his body settle even closer, nearly right on top of you, gingerly taking your numb fingers and switching your gloves out with his. His gloves were already warm, and larger and kept the air insulated better. Your gloves barely fit his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. His body heat leaked into you, numb limbs springing back to life as that pinpricky sensation crawled up your body.

You relaxed a bit more into the snow, mind clearer now. Soap moved even closer, now quite literally on top of you, trying not to crush you with his weight but also keeping you nice and warm. After a moment of shifting around and adjusting, you got quite comfortable.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

You mumbled, already seeing the stupid grin he’d be wearing because of the praise.

“Anytime, bonnie.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick ☁️

- Serial cuddle enjoyer.

- Usually the one to fall asleep first because he’s more relaxed around his team. Has fallen asleep on Ghost’s shoulder before and been promptly pushed off.

- Prefers cuddling in bed over anywhere else, will slip into your bed in the middle of the night if he felt lonely or somehow has a sixth sense for you getting nightmares.

- Likes cuddling in a pretzel sort of position, or face-to-face despite the fact that he buries his head in your neck every time.

Rousing from his sleep for god knows why, Kyle rubbed his eyes, slipping from the warm bed he slept in and padding over to the kitchen to grab a drink of water. His throat was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Probably the consequences of not drinking enough water while on mission, but he was in his little flat and off duty for now, so it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway.

Drinking nearly an entire glass, he heard a small thug, and his sluggish brain snapped awake as instinct kicked in, he put the glass down, approaching your room where he’d heard the sound come from slowly. Your door was already open.

He peeked inside, abruptly opening it to avoid the awful tension of the slow creaks it would’ve made had he dragged it out, only to be met with the sight of you, his roommate, curled up on the floor and sniffling.

His eyes softened and he crouched down next to you, hands moving to brush the hair out of your face as he caught sight of your watery eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked, nearly a whisper for fear of making you jump. You sniffled again, and tried to get to your feet, only to stumble and be caught by Kyle again before being sat on the edge of the bed by him.

“Had a nightmare.”

You answered in a meek tone, seeming a bit embarrassed, which then was overridden by surprise when Kyle sat on the edge of the bed next to you, calloused hands gently shifting your body around until he was lying right next to you, his dark brown eyes gazing into yours.

“I have them too,”

He admitted, watching as you carefully slipped a hand around him, moving closer as he pulled the blanket over both of your bodies. He relaxed, tense muscles going nearly limp as his head leaned into your shoulder, his breathing deepening out as both of your eyelids grew heavy, eventually shutting as you drifted off into a peaceful rest.

John Price 🏷️

- Is just a big bear of a man. Loves cuddling with his missus when he gets home from a mission.

- Prefers spooning, but when his joints get achy and sore he’ll just lay on his back and let you lay on top of him.

- Is a human furnace just like Soap, so you probably won’t be needing a blanket.

- He usually waits until you’re asleep to fall asleep, but on the really rough nights, he’s out in a few seconds flat.

- Enjoys having your hands in his hair.

- Definitely an experienced cuddler.

Just as you finished your shower, you heard the front door unlocking and opening, and not caring much about getting proper clothes on, you rushed over and pulled a very-tired-looking John into a hug.

He chuckled, hand giving you a few little pats on the head as he pulled you in, taking a deep whiff of the smell of your body wash and shampoo, before slowly releasing.

“Missed me, huh? Missed you too, bird.”

He mumbled as you refused to let go, only releasing when he gave you a light little pinch on the arm, leaving you to finish getting ready after your shower as he trudged off to change and probably at least get a comb through his hair.

With a small smile now on your face, you hurried through your skin and haircare routines faster than ever before, throwing on some underwear and pajamas. As you walked into your shared bedroom, you found John struggling to get a knot out of his brown hair.

“Let me,”

You said, gently taking the comb from his large fingers, brushing the ends of the knot out first, working down to the center of it when you finally got it out. He took the comb and placed it down on his little desk with a little “Thanks, darlin’”, then took your hand and led you over to the bed.

He crawled in first, groaning when his body was finally able to sink into the soft mattress of the bed, body aching after weeks of being gone as he laid on his back, you being quick to crawl above him, head laying against his chest.

He loosed a deep sigh, pulling the blankets over both of you despite the warmth already being shared between you two.

“M’ glad to be home.”

He muttered, pulling you closer, arms settling around you as he already began drifting off.

Smiling, you replied.

“Me too.”

Gary “Roach” Sanderson 🪳

- I definitely hc him as nonverbal (like he is in the games, for whatever reason, you can decide why) but that doesn’t mean he’s any worse at cuddling.

- Roach is a little bit of a wild sleeper, so expect a few nudges and maybe some flips from him during the night.

- Enjoys the sweetheart position the most, just because it lets him hear your heartbeat.

- Serial nuzzle enjoyer. Will nuzzle into you at any moment he can, it’s just something he really likes doing.

- Douses his pillowcases with a lethal amount of your signature perfume or what reminds him of you (has an entire candle of it, too.)

- Can be very clingy.

When you got back home from the little girl’s night you’d had, finding Gary wrapped around one of your pillows and holding it with a death grip, your favorite perfume on the bedside table and a lit candle to match in the same scent wasn’t something you’d been expecting.

As soon as you walked into the room, he glanced up, beckoning you closer almost frantically. With a small smile, you held up a finger, signaling to wait for just one moment. You slipped out of the dress you’d been donning, and pulled off the shoes as well, the heels having made your feet ache anyways.

You used some basic wipes to get any makeup off, deciding that the more complicated cleansing process would be left for the morning, and promptly pulled some pajamas on, finally walking over to the bed, and being pulled in.

Within seconds, you were under the covers, and softly laughing at how he hooked one arm around the back of your neck, pulling you gently into where your head was against his chest, and intertwining his legs with yours. The scruff of his slightly unshaven face scratched lightly against you as he rubbed and nuzzled into you unashamedly, peppering a few little kisses on you while he was at it.

“Clingy,”

You murmured teasingly, and he frowned for a moment, raising a brow as if to call you a hypocrite, and you hummed lightly for a moment in thought.

“Touché.”

You said to his silent response, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose, before finally settling in and getting comfortable against his body. Within a few minutes, the both of you were yawning, sleep pulling both of you slowly under as the rhythm of your breathing deepened.

[wearywinchester]

Soft Touch

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Comforting Dean might seem like a hefty task, but all he needs is you.

Requested by Anonymous: “request!! can you write something where the reader comforts dean after a bad day, it doesn’t have to be major trauma or anything just dean needing physical touch and not knowing how to ask for it and the reader making sure he’s comfortable and okay and just a bunch of fluff and comfort”

Warnings: angst, language, injury, alcohol, fluff

The bunker was fairly quiet, near completely. Sam was tucked away in his room, and if you had to guess, he was probably doing research. It’s what he’d been doing in the library for a little while, sitting there quietly with a few lore books and his laptop before he gathered his stuff with a polite goodnight and went to his room.

Sam Winchester is the only person you know that decompresses after a hunt by researching for the next.

You heard the sound of his tv when you walked by, muffled and soft. The sound of your footfalls accompanied it, a soft set of taps on the cold floor as you wandered about in search of your beau.

He hadn’t been in bed at all, his side still made. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not really, but he’d had a rough day.

It was a seven hour drive back to the bunker, and he was damn near running on fumes because he hadn’t slept well the night before. The motel bed was not doing any favors, stiff and thin enough to feel the springs dig into your muscles. The dip in the center made an uncomfortable pit, and he was just about ready to snag you and sleep in the Impala. He couldn’t sleep nearly as well without you.

He was sore from the hunt, muscles aching and begging for a bath, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of them. He’d obtained a myriad of injuries, none serious or major, but the combination was a melting pot of misery when you put them together. Not to mention the constant state of war he’s in with his own mind.

The halls still smelled like dinner, pizza and a mix of burgers, something quick and easy. None of you had the energy to do more than takeout.

You heard the quiet hum of the lights lining the hall, and your sigh upon seeing an empty library, and an empty map room. The bathroom was empty too, and the Dean cave he’d set up. There was no note on the desk by the bed, so that was an indication he was still there.

But your search wasn’t very lengthy much to your relief, a simple glance into the kitchen revealing just the one you were looking for.

His back was to you as he stood at the sink. He’d discarded his shirt after dinner, a habit he’d gotten into as of late. He got hot very easily, and it was a simple and more comfortable solution. Besides, you wouldn’t complain about that.

The muscles in his back tensed and moved as he washed the dishes in the sink, those damn hotdog pajama pants sitting on his hips.

His hair was a bit tangled and mussed, brushing against the nape of his neck and curling outward. He’d been growing it out, same for his beard, a mixture of not having as much time to handle it and wanting to try something new.

You saw a half drank glass of whiskey on the table as you passed it, the uncapped bottle sitting next to it.

He knew you were there, heard the soft pattern of your footfalls, not to mention he could sense your presence regardless of hearing you or not. But it was confirmed when you reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.

He pulled his gaze from the plate in his hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thought you’d run off for good,” you teased, your eyes meeting his.

His chuckle was soft and sweet, accompanied by a shake of his head. “Ain’t runnin’ off without taking you with me, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’t that a relief?”

You notice the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, tired but surely present.

He rinses off that last plate, sticking it in the drying rack on the counter before wiping his hands dry on the tea towel draped over the sink. He turns to you, hands settling on your hips before they glide forwards, snaking themselves around your waist and tugging you closer. They were warm and calloused, the perfect combination.

You rested your hands on his chest, his skin warm and radiating to you. Your gaze shifts to the scrape on his shoulder, fading into a cut. He hadn’t tended to it, not really, nor did his mess with the one on his bicep and just above his beard on his cheekbone.

“How about we get you cleaned up, then head to bed?” You say, tipping your head back to look at him.

He took one of his hands from where it rested around you to settle by your cheek and tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck.

“You sayin’ I didn’t do a good job?” He asks, and you just barely saw the raise of his brow under the hair that fell over his forehead.

“Pretty much,” you answer with a shrug, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of his frown and crease between his brows.

He tugged you in closer abruptly and you made a delighted noise of surprise, moving your hands from his chest to wrap up around his shoulders. His nose bumped against yours, the brush of his lips gentle before he they pressed a kiss on your own. It was lingering and sweet, borderline steamy before he parted, only to press one, two, three more to your lips.

“Trying to distract me?” You ask, furrowing your brows with a soft smile as you look at him.

He chuckles as he shakes his head, brushing your hair out of your face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t have to try to do that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, instead rolling your eyes as you wriggle from his arms.

“Sit down, Winchester,” you say, walking towards the cupboard.

You hear his sigh as you grab the first aid kit, freshly replenished a few days ago. You hear that sigh but when you turn around, sure enough he’s taken his seat at the kitchen table, swirling his unfinished glass of whiskey in his hand before gulping it down and pouring another.

Now it’s your turn to sigh, head shaking softly and he most definitely heard it.

You open the lid to the kit, pondering over what you wanted before it came to mind. You snagged a package of an alcohol wipe, and the small bottle of antiseptic, grabbing a small stack of gauze.

None of his injuries were severe, but it’s no good for any wound, superficial or not, to have dirt trapped in it while it tries to heal.

Anyone knew that. Anyone except Dean Winchester.

Well, it’s not that he didn’t know, he very much did. He just lacked a certain caring when it came to himself. And by lacking, he didn’t care at all. He was always that way. He cared enough to eat and bathe, to brush his teeth and at least have you brush his hair, though that was purely because he secretly not so secretly enjoys how it feels. But in actuality, he didn’t care much for himself, didn’t see a reason to.

In fact, the only reason he cared even a little bit was so he could be around to protect you and Sam, didn’t have anything to do with himself.

“No more liquor, De,” you sigh, capping the bottle and pushing it away from his reach.

You didn’t fail to notice the way he looked at you for it, brows furrowed and gaze narrowed. And you didn’t fail to notice the way those dimples formed by the corners of his mouth, barely visible through his beard but you knew with one hundred percent certainty that they were there.

That was his form of self care. A bottle of whiskey or a six pack of beer. But that was no form of caring at all, no form of soothing.

You simply lift your hand and run it over his head, caressing over his hair, your thumb brushing over his cheek softly. Your hand drops to rest under his chin, tipping his head back to drop a soft kiss to his lips, something that made your words sound not so bad to him now. So much so that he made a noise of discontent when you pulled away to tend to those wounds of his.

He didn’t care about a damn scrape or two, he wanted you.

You sigh as you tear open a couple packets of alcohol wipes, plucking one from its package and unfolding it.

You started with his arm, holding his bicep in your hand, cumbersome at best because he’d become quite muscular as of late. You noticed the slight twitch he’d made in reaction to the cold alcohol stinging the open scrape, but it’d barely shown on his face, hard for anyone but you to tell.

You cleaned away the excess dirt and blood with gentle swipes. You set down the dirtied wipe on the table, reaching for the gauze and bottle of antiseptic. You squeezed a generous amount on, returning your grip on his arm as you dabbed it directly on the scrape this time.

He may think you were being dramatic, you knew it did. It was only a few scrapes, the most superficial of injuries you can get. The equivalent of a paper cut in the world of hunting. But you were all about caring for your big, strong tough guy even if he couldn’t give a damn about any of it when it came to himself.

“You should really take better care of yourself after hunts, De,” you say, beginning to repeat the process on his shoulder.

“I ain’t gonna die from a couple of scrapes and scratches, sweetheart,” he says, as careless as ever, his tone lighthearted.

You exhale a huff, tossing the second wipe down in a more obvious show of your frustration.

“Would you want me to say that about myself?” You ask, brow raised in challenge.

“Y/n,” he said sternly.

You could tell he was angry, or the beginnings of it. His jaw was tense, along with his shoulders. You could feel it under your palm, a noticeable difference. Not to mention the look on his face alone was enough of a giveaway.

That crease between his brows never left, only deepened by your words. Those dimples were still adorning the corners of his mouth unable to be masked by the beard that framed his jaw. Nor could it hide the subtle flush in his cheeks, tinged with anger and frustration.

To him, the comparison was incomparable. So ridiculously, unbelievably able to be compared because he was not in the same bracket as you. He’ll, he’d die for you, and has. He’s sold his damn soul to a low life demon just so you would be okay, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’d rather get torn to shreds by a werewolf, become some wendigo’s dinner, be made into some monsters toy than have so much as a hand laid on you.

The comparison between you and him was one he could not make. Because you were the world, a radiant being and far better than the angels he’s seen in his lifetime and he knows it for a fact. You were his world and he was simply a fleck in it. He’s always felt that way, and the whole idea has been putting a strain on him for as long as he can remember.

He always hated that you were a hunter, because dammit it scared him more than anything. He’s seen what monsters do to people, innocent lives. He’s seen what the life does to those who enter it, how it changes them, he’s one of them. He’s seen the sheer trauma it’s put you through, the agony and pain. He sees it with every case, every hunt that’s added to the endless chart.

If he thinks about it for too long, it’ll drive him insane, push him over the edge of emotion and into a fit of rage. And that, that reaction alone only adds to the self hatred he feels. To be an angry person when you’re so delicate and everything he wishes he could be. It spirals into every avenue.

He couldn’t bring himself to put caring about a scrape on himself at the same level as an injury on you. He couldn’t do it. Even so much as a paper cut on you would have him furrowing his brows. It’d need something as simple as a bandaid and he’d be sure to put it on, giving you hell if you tried to brush it off.

No matter the severity, if you were hurt in any way, shape, or form, it mattered to him.

He didn’t give a damn about himself, he gave a damn about you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you sighed, softening your glare and settling your hand on his other cheek.

You noticed the way he leaned into your touch, however, his hair falling in the direction it so pleased as he tilted his head and tipped it back, his eyes falling closed.

Dean Winchester was rough, tough and rugged. There was no denying that. He was stereotypical, and put up every front he felt he needed to. But when everything is stripped away, when it came down to it, Dean was a man of comfort. That’s really all he’s ever wanted, no matter how much he refused to say it.

But it’s a trait that’s guarded with extra security, one he tries to keep on lock down from you even, but he can’t keep that from his source of comfort. He’d be foolish to think he’d be able to keep that from you.

The subtle flush in his cheeks had accentuated his freckles, soft flecks kissing along his skin, almost comically delicate in contrast to the tough persona he puts on. Especially the way his lashes curled over top of them when his eyes were closed.

You were gentler this time if that were possible, gentler in comparison to the other two you just tended to. His skin was angry and red around the uneven scrape, some of it smudged lightly with blood and some not.

His beard felt prickly and soft all the same against your palm, the longest he’s ever let it grow. His hair fell over his eyes, glimmers of green breaking through as he opened them to look at you.

He didn’t say anything, just looked. His gaze is softer than it was moments before, looking at every detail he can soak in as if he’d never see them again. Quiet as he admired. His expression was unreadable, yet so openly blatant all the same.

You knew he’d calmed down from a couple minutes ago. You knew it with the way his hands grasped your hips and pulled you closer. You sat down on his lap, a soft sigh exhaling past your lips.

“Well, I was all done anyway,” you say, tone lighthearted and teasing as you toss what was in your hand to the side.

“Oh good,” he says, pulling you all the more closer.

He tucks you into himself as tightly as possible, and you feel how deeply he inhaled as his face settled against the crook of your neck briefly, felt his exhale against your skin.

This. This was all he ever needed. All the comfort he’d known and cared for.

His warmth was unbeatable, his skin smooth and heated as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I could get used to this no shirt thing, you know,” you said, soft but mischievous, that smile of yours plenty proof of it.

You hear his chuckle, see that half grin of his as he looks at you with half open eyes, a chunk of hair dipped between his brows in a damn prince charming sort of way.

“Yeah?” He inquires, though he knows your answer already.

You simply respond with a nod and a soft laugh that sends a feeling of warmth through his chest like it’s the first time he’s heard it. Nearly sent over the edge when that laugh presses to his lips and dissolves into a kiss.

Damn was he ever lucky, any tension he’s carried having long since dissipated just from your mere presence.

He’d felt absolutely miserable, purely stuck below the surface of his thoughts that never fail to drown him. But in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter so much. They could be thoughts to worry about some other time.

Because right now he’s got you.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana @iprobablyshipit91

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 28: lucky charm

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You were sitting, waiting, next to your companion Spencer. It was a small waiting room with stiff chairs and flickering lights, creating a tense and cold atmosphere. Spencer was beside you, his leg bouncing up and down without rest. You could hear the rhythmic sound of his shoe hitting the floor, something that would undoubtedly earn him a few curious looks from those nearby. However, he seemed completely oblivious, focused on his own nervousness.

Every so often, his hand would move up to his mouth to nibble at his nails, a habit you knew he hated, which made you suspect he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. The slight tremor in his fingers and the tension in his jaw confirmed what was dominating his mind.

"Reid, it looks like you're about to have an anxiety attack. Are you okay?" you asked in a gentle whisper, trying to make him feel understood and not judged.

"Nervous," he replied, sounding exactly that way. Although he tried to sound relaxed, the truth slipped out with each word, as if he were trying to contain a sea of thoughts that only continued to grow.

You had both traveled to Chicago to give a lecture—or rather, for him to give a lecture—about your work. It was an important opportunity, and it was understandable that he was anxious. The pressure of speaking before an audience, representing both your work, and answering complex questions, rested entirely on his shoulders.

"You’ll do great; you always do," you said confidently, wanting to offer him the reassurance he couldn’t give himself.

"That’s not true. I know a lot of things, but when I try to verbalize them in front of an audience, everything seems to evaporate around me. I need to avoid eye contact, and that's not socially acceptable. I'll just look like a freak..." he said, lowering his gaze. His tone was one of complete frustration.

"Come on, calm down. No one is going to see you that way. You’re the expert on the topic," you insisted, trying to instill a bit of self-confidence in him. You moved a little closer, watching his expression shift between fear and concentration.

"But I get so nervous! And then I start to stammer and... ugh, it’s a disaster," he exclaimed, bringing both hands up to cover his face, embarrassed and frustrated. His fingers covered his cheeks as he closed his eyes, as if trying to shield himself from the world.

You laughed softly and reached out your hands toward his, gently moving them away from his face to reveal his features bit by bit. When you managed to see his face again, you noticed the blush spreading across his cheeks, perhaps due to the contact. It was a sweet expression, so natural in him, and you were surprised by the vulnerability he let you see in those moments.

"Do you want me to do it? You know I don’t mind. But I’m afraid people won’t get specific data or intellectual answers from me."

"I can do it," he assured you with a slight smile, though he didn’t sound the least bit convinced. "I just need to calm down, breathe..."

"Want a Xanax? I have a quarter tablet in my purse," you said jokingly, though you knew you actually had one. His laugh was immediate, and for a moment, his tension seemed to dissolve.

You both sat in silence for a while, and although he didn’t say so, you knew he was still worried. You wanted to do something for him, to lighten his load a little. In an attempt to make him feel better, you suggested he practice his speech with you, and he seemed agreeable to the idea.

When he started to speak, his gaze locked onto yours, but he soon realized his mistake. He had to look you in the eyes, and that only made him more nervous. The softness in your expression, the way you watched him so attentively... anyone in his place would have had a hard time, too.

You were very pretty; anyone could notice that, and he, of all people, couldn’t ignore it. However, the effort to speak in front of you also served as an exercise in resilience. If he could present his points to you, he could do so to any audience.

Despite his efforts, he failed. The words seemed to tangle in his throat, and in the end, he let out a defeated sigh.

"I’ll do it however I can. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just here to present data, not to be pleasing to the eye," he muttered, lowering his head.

"Listen," you said, in a final attempt to make him feel better. "I have this; I always carry it with me because it relaxes me to touch the crystals. Use it."

You held out a bracelet full of purple quartz, adorned with a few artificial pink and gold stones. The piece had a warm touch, and you had carried it with you for years.

"Did you know that, according to esoteric beliefs, amethysts provide mental and emotional calm? They’re thought to help promote inner peace and emotional balance, relieving anxiety and stress."

"You see? It’s perfect for you. It’s like my lucky charm. It’ll help you feel secure; I promise," you told him, and the affectionate tone in your words made him blush as you took his hand to leave the item with him. You noticed how his fingers trembled slightly under your touch.

Spencer felt each part of the bracelet, lingering on the softness of each stone, almost as if hoping the luck and calm you mentioned would somehow transfer to him. Then, gently, he placed it on his wrist, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye and smiling in gratitude.

"Are you going to be here in the back? Or out front?" he asked, a bit more relaxed.

"Right next to you," you murmured with a smile. "Hotch sent me as eye candy for the old perverts. Remember?"

"That’s not true," he objected, with an offended expression. "You’re coming with me because you’re an exemplary agent."

"Oh, don’t think it only applies to me. Women will also pay attention just because a handsome man is speaking."

He looked at you with narrowed eyes and shook his head gently, as if scolding you for your comments, though you knew they amused him.

Someone from the staff called for you both to go on, and that was the end of it. Spencer walked the entire way clutching the amethyst hanging from his wrist, and after taking a deep breath, he seemed to transform completely once he appeared on stage. His gaze took on a new determination, and although you still noticed a slight stiffness in his shoulders, it was clear that the bracelet had given him some of the confidence he needed.

That bracelet never returned to your hands; you preferred him to keep it, as he seemed to have found in it a source of calm. Spencer kept it close, and whenever there was an important event, he made sure to wear it. Although, in reality, without knowing it, his true lucky charm had always been you.

[octuscle]

Hey there! I'm having a debate with my roommate and wondering if you can help settle it. He says that if you gave someone the body of a jock, without any mental changes, they'll eventually start acting like a jock anyway. I don't think that's true. Just because you have muscles and look like a jock doesn't mean you'll start acting like one, right? We were thinking of trying to set up an experiment for our honor's thesis and wanted your input, thanks!

Are you really sure you want to go through with it? We are happy to do it. I'll create a preset for you that only changes your body. But really. 1.90 m tall. 140 kg of pure muscle mass. But everything else stays the same. To be honest, you don't look like you're ready for it. But it's up to you. I can only recommend that you are in a safe and, above all, unobserved place when you activate the preset.

You take a deep breath. You stand naked in the middle of your room. Next to you, you have laid out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a tank top, a jockstrap, a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers. You can only hope that the clothes will fit your new self. 3. 2. 1. enter!

Wow! Holy shit! Now that was quick and without a transition. You look down at the floor from a slightly greater height. And when you look down, all you see are pecs. Fucking huge pecs. You need a mirror. Phew! Very slowly! The new body works a little differently than the old one… Your center of gravity is much higher up. You stand in front of the mirror. This no longer has anything to do with you. It's more Greek demigod than human. Your cock is getting hard. A huge cock that fits this huge body. You never wank. Especially not in the middle of your room. But now you have to. Not for long. And a huge load lands on the mirror and the floor. Yes, I've changed a few details apart from the height and muscle mass. You've already noticed one thing. You'll notice the others too.

You're convinced that the new body won't change anything. So you act as you always have. First of all, you clean up the mess. You are manically clean and tidy. Then you put on your clothes. The shoes are a bit tight, but otherwise everything fits pretty well. So off you go to the library. After all, your honors thesis isn't going to write itself.

Iris and Rita at the information desk didn't recognize you when you greeted them. They looked at you as if you were an alien when you wished them a good morning. You sat down at your regular place in the library. You like routines. You started working on your thesis outline when Vincent came over. Vincent always sits three tables behind you. Nice guy, similarly obsessive as you. He clears his throat and says that you can't sit here, the seat is taken. Actually, you should have said something along the lines of "Vincent, don't you recognize me, it's me!". But somehow you can't help it. You have to try it out. You cross your muscular arms behind your head, look deep into his eyes and just ask who cares. Vincent retreats like a beaten dog. Three minutes later, you have a WhatsApp message: "There's some stupid musclehead sitting in your seat!" You reply that it's okay, you're not on campus for a few days for empirical studies anyway.

But you're not as productive as usual. Your new body is keeping you busier than you thought. It feels so good to tense your muscles. Your hard cock is constantly leaking precum and is always half stiff. Shit, after an hour you have to jerk off. Fuck, you make quite a mess in the toilet. You try to clean everything up with toilet paper. When you come out of the stall, a student is standing at the urinal, looking at you and wanking. Get out of here quickly, you think to yourself.

The incident is definitely worth recording. After all, you've never experienced this before. But it was hot. As you type out your thoughts, your stomach begins to growl. So loud that Vicent hisses "Pssst". It's actually too early for lunch. But the canteen is about to open. So you're one of the first in the queue. You can hardly wait. And you heap heaps of food onto your tray. You're so hungry.

The weather is good, you sit down at a table in the sun and, ignoring all the table manners, you wolf down your food. Suddenly you hear a voice shouting "Hey, guys, there are empty seats here with the big boy!" You look up. A couple of idiots from the football team are standing at your table. "Dude, okay if we join you?" asks one of the guys, who seems to be some kind of leader. "Sure thing," you say with your mouth full, spitting a bit of your chicken across the table. "Cool," he replies, giving you a fist bump, which you return somewhat hesitantly and also a little awkwardly. And before you know it, you're sitting in a cloud of sweat, testosterone and stupid comments.

You start talking to the boys more for scientific reasons. They ask if you're Fresman because they've never seen you before. You say that you're actually studying somewhere else, but you're here to work on your Honor's thesis. The leader spits his Coke across the table. "Fuck, dude! You already have a degree? In what? Lifting iron?" Everyone laughs. Very loudly. You too. It's actually really funny with the boys��

The boys go to the gym after lunch. I wonder if you're coming too. You don't even think about it. You just say that you haven't got anything to change into. Everyone laughs and asks if anyone is interested. So you go along. It's a field study, you think to yourself. You're observing everything very closely. You don't want to attract negative attention. The processes seem very simple. You copy what you see the boys doing. You even enjoy it. You work up a sweat. You forget the time. The others are gone at some point. You're still here. You look in the mirror. Your long, sweaty hair falls across your forehead. Your friends all have much shorter hair. It's also more practical when working out. You look at your watch. Shit!!!!! You have to get your stuff from the library before it closes. Trevor, sitting at the information desk, doesn't recognize you either. It's already very empty when you pack up your things. Vincent is still there, mumbling something about how antisocial it is to occupy a space you're not using. You don't know why you're doing this now. But you go to him very slowly. You press his face into your armpit. And say that you had more important things to do. Shit, Vincent is seriously licking the sweat out of your armpit hair now? Pathetic little fucker, your new friends would say now. You're far too surprised. By you. By him. Slightly disturbed, you go home. You throw yourself on your bed and think about your first day as a jock. You fall asleep.

You are actually a person who is always well prepared. But you are amazed at how little you have prepared for this experiment. You have a combination to wear. It's still sweaty after yesterday's workout. But you don't have anything else. So this morning you're not going to the library, but to the paint shop. Shopping. A pair of sweatshorts, a few tank tops, socks and jockstraps, sneakers. A bit of compression gear for training. You pass a barbershop. There are a couple of guys inside who are obviously no strangers to the gym either. Fuck it, you think. Down with the long hair!

You haven't been in the library this late in a long time. Vincent has blocked your seat for you. With a few protein bars. Cute! He winks at you when you come in. You raise your arm and smell your armpit. Shit, you haven't showered! Fuck… Well, maybe the little prick will like that even more…

By lunchtime with the boys, you at least want to have logged yesterday and this morning. And you're looking for some literature on the connection between mind and body. Most of it is ancient. Nothing has been published on the subject for a long time. And if there is, it's more about the effect of the state of mind on the body. Less often on the effect of the body on the state of mind. That's obvious, because normally a genius like you doesn't acquire a body overnight…

The lunch break with the boys was cool. The guys are just very chilled, you like that. No highbrow topics. Just sport, fucking and partying. Unfortunately, a lot of football too. You have no idea about that. After lunch, the boys want to throw some balls on the lawn. You have to go to a colloquium later. And Luke said that you should finally replace those nerdy glasses with contact lenses. The visit to the optician was a good excuse not to embarrass yourself at football.

A whole day without going to the gym sucks! That's why you got up early today. You didn't do your thesis assignments yesterday, nor did you get your muscles burning. That has to change. Shit, you're still struggling with your contact lenses. But it looks a thousand times better. You're screaming alpha with every trained muscle fiber. And that's great! You almost feel at home in the gym. And nobody questions your position. In the library, Vincent provides you with everything you need. He fetches books for you and takes them away again. He has also already offered to help you with your work. What a loser! You don't need to order anything in the canteen after just two days. Your extra large portion of extra protein-rich food is prepared especially for you. Twice. You come once when the canteen opens. And once just before it closes. Your body is a machine. And this machine needs fuel. Lots of fuel.

You sit in the library and document the developments of the last few days. It really is only a few days. Reading through the last few lines almost makes you nauseous. Has your body replaced your mind so quickly? You need to get a grip on yourself. You did your Master's with distinction. You're working on your honor's thesis. You have a chance of getting a professorship at your old college. And you suddenly prefer to spend more time in the gym or with the airheads on the football team? You make a plan. Two hours of gym in the morning, two hours break with the bros at lunchtime, two hours of gym in the evening. And in between, focus on your thesis and your studies. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're an intelligent and disciplined man. So let's get going!

You have made every effort. And you actually come to the conclusion in your thesis that the body of a jock does not automatically lead to the mind of a stupid, arrogant and superficial jock. You have fun with both. Training in the gym and hanging out with the bros. And working scientifically and researching the human psyche. But in a lecture you realize that it's not you who changes, it's your environment that changes you. Since you got this body three weeks ago, no one has spoken to you about your studies. Vincent, who you thought was intellectual through and through, just wants you to let him lick your armpits in the evening. Your bros didn't even ask you what you were studying. And then the day comes when you attend your doctoral supervisor's lecture. Since your transformation, you've only spoken or written on the phone. You sit in the front row. You appreciate your doctoral supervisor for his liberal political views, his rhetorical skills and his incredible knowledge. At the end of his lecture, he looks at you. And asks if the young man, who unfortunately was unable to dress appropriately, understood a word of what he had just said. He assumes you were mistaken in the lecture hall. But if you invest your energy in your biceps and not your brain, that's to be expected.

First you think about whether you are saying anything particularly intelligent. To express your indignation at his insolence. To justify yourself. But then you think about what has been really fun in the last few weeks. And who you really had fun with. And you answer "Nah, professor dude! Dat wuz alot of words n stff u sed. I dnt thnk I need all dat for my degree as a personal trainer. wdut, bro?" You make your pecs dance. The lecture hall laughs. You stand up. Fuck the honor's thesis!

You started studying sports economics again. You also work as a trainer in a fitness studio. And you have a pretty successful YouTube fitness channel. You recently received a call from your old doctoral supervisor. He read through the draft of your honor's thesis again. It was all very promising. Why did you drop out? You say that you obviously have to choose between brains and brawn at some point. And you're grateful to him for helping you decide. And with that you hang up.

[according2thelore]

do you think that mary tries to mother sam in the depths of s12, when lucifer is possessing his childhood rockstar and fucking with sam every chance he gets, when sam is still trying to recover from the british interrogation and hallucinating a-fucking-gain? do you think dean gets jealous and isn’t sure of who? sammy giving mary that little-boy smile and mary pets his hair and dean is just like no no Mine!

BETH I AM KISSING YOU RN

LETS TALK MOTHERS!!!!!!!!!!! OH I AM SO EXCITED TO TALK MOTHERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a lot of the mary content we get in s12 is very dean-forward (which i can understand, because he was the only one who had even a little bit of a relationship with pre-her death), but i think about how she tries to mother sam a LOT!

a lot of mary's last memories of sammy were of him waking up in the middle of the night screaming his head off, or laughing and flapping his hands in the baby chair outside while dean tries to blow bubbles. i know collectively we've all kinda talked about this, but how freaky is it to see a baby, then be told the next day that this man older than you is that baby!!!

a lot of her bonding is weird and awkward and stilted. she cuts the crusts off of a sandwich she makes for dean one day, completely on autopilot, and dean freezes when he sees it.

i'm sure a lot of her comfort is very tactile, because she hasn't really had time to get used to comforting adults. she has very little--if any at all--experience comforting/connecting with adults.

given her childhood, her exposure to/relationships with other people and adults was extremely limited. her dad was very much a stiff-upper-lip kind of guy, and john dealt with his emotions/worry/frustrations (as we see in the flashbacks with him interacting with mary) with knee-jerk anger (which we later see dean doing as well with her). so i'm sure a lot of her comfort for dean is the same way she used to talk with john, a la "it [their marriage] wasn't perfect until she died."

but sam? he's a bleeding heart. he flinches when dean yells and shows up at her door after a fight with dean to make sure that she's okay (but not too much, not enough to break their united front; when mary complains about dean, sam responds noncommittally and excuse-laden, that's how he is, you know saying XYZ makes him mad). he pours the extra cup of coffee when dean refuses to, and cuts off the crusts of her sandwich one afternoon to make her laugh.

all that to say, the last time mary wanted to comfort sam, she'd kissed his little bald forehead. she'd put two of her fingers into his tiny, sticky fist, and wiggled his arms around. she'd bounced him. she'd shooed dean away, because dean had come in to watch sam cry, confused and upset and asking is he okay mommy let me look at him is he okay is he okay is he sad?

comfort with sam has always been tactile.

so now that she's back, and sam is upset, she gives him a hug. sam kind of wilts when she does, going tense and confused at first before wrapping his (frankly, terrifyingly large) arms around her.

after all the shit that goes down in s12, mary gets in the habit of checking in with him. she'll put a hand on his shoulder when he stares at the corner for too long, eyes dark and far away. she'll make sure to turn the radio up on the '70s radio channel she has on while sharpening the knives because sam is flinching as something invisible is clearly yelling at him.

she brings him an extra cup of coffee. she goes on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. she puts a hand on his head as she passes him to go to bed. she pokes his hand to shake him out of a reverie. she grabs his arm to get his attention.

and--of course--this brushes up against dean.

she brings sam another cup of coffee to find a mug already steaming next to him, a sticky note in dean's cramped scrawl that says "go to bed, asshole" peeling off of the side. she stands up to go break sam's fifty-yard stare at the chair across from him, but dean is already sliding into the chair, talking like he had been sitting there the whole time and they were in the middle of a conversation.

she pats sam on the shoulder after he finds a lead on the case, and his shoulder ticks up because dean had just slapped down on his other shoulder at the same time.

and dean is just fucking burning. he's so fucking confused, and angry, and hurt.

but mostly, he's humiliated to find out, he's jealous.

sam tilts into the kiss mary drops on the top of his head. he turns his hand over on the table so she can give it a squeeze. he puts a hand on her back to move her out of his way in the kitchen.

dean figures it's kind of pathetic to want to be mothered like that at thirty-eight years old, especially after all the shit they've been through.

but, when he walks in and finds sam sunk into one of mary's hugs, he wants to pry her off. he wants to go over and ask sam what happened, why it looks like he's been crying, what she did.

he's not jealous of sam.

he's jealous of mary.

she can hug him whenever she wants, and sam sinks into it like it's a bed every time, shaking and happy and calm. mary drops kisses on his cheek like it's nothing.

he starts to seek her out to ask questions, first. before he goes to dean. whenever they have dinner, he serves her her food first. he starts deferring to her on things. they're at a restaurant, and he pulls her chair out for her. he calls her "mom," with a smile and a laugh and crinkly eyes.

she puts toast in front of him with butter--and sam fucking hates putting butter on his toast right out of the toaster, why doesn't she know that, it makes the bread soggy, dean almost reaches across and slaps it off the table--and he smiles and says, "thanks mom" with a huge fucking smile and dean is filled with so much rage and longing and hurt that he stands up and has to take a fucking lap.

it's automatic, immediate deference. it's idolization that kids have for their mothers. that a five-year-old sam had for dean.

she doesn't even know how to be his mom. she doesn't know that sammy used to nosebleeds every fall, and dean had sit next to him as he leaned over boiling water, because they didn't have a humidifier. she doesn't know that sam likes his coffee with a very specific amount of creamer. dean spent years getting it perfect, better than sam makes it, to the point that sam will ask dean to make it if he's feeling really tired.

she didn't sit with sam when sam could only speak enochian for hours, garbling and hissing and spitting, then later shoving dean off of him, whispering in broken english i've been good, i've been good, you promised you wouldn't bring dean back if i was good.

she doesn't know a thing about being sam's mom. she shouldn't get to reap the rewards that--dean is starting to realize--he wants.

he wants to be allowed to kiss sam on the cheek or the forehead and it not mean anything. he wants his touch to be expected, to be anticipated, to be routine. he wants sam to tilt his face to the side to make it easier to reach, to sit up straighter when dean leaves a room to make his hair closer to his hand.

sammy looks up at her with a smile that looks like apple juice and missing teeth and boxes of flintstone bandaids that dean stole in hoodie pockets and pillow forts made on motel beds.

and she puts a hand through his hair and dean is fucking howling with rage, burning up from the inside out, fire tunneling up his spine.

mine. it's mine, he's mine. his childhood was mine, his skinned knees were mine, his sunburned cheeks were mine, his sleepless nights were mine. his fears are mine, his smiles are mine, his respect is mine.

and i'm his blanket, his calf to put cold feet under, the bed he would climb into after nightmares, the mouth that blew on his skinned palms, the bowl of warm soup when he was sick, the one screaming at his soccer games.

i'm his mom.

~~~

i can literally talk about this forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and [the limit does not exist]

it is no secret i love getting asks about these two losers

i'm sorry for the late response, work has been killer recently, but know that i opened our tumblr and lovingly stared at this ask! i hope you're doing well <3 i love when i see your name on our dash!

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK <3333

-lizzy

[elliesbelle]

Hi!!! i was wondering if i could maybe request an abby x fem! reader where abby is like a nervous wreck around reader? like, sweaty, beat red in the face, stuttering, and tripping over her own feet and readers super sweet but completely oblivious ?? i’m a sucker for that that trope!! thank you!!

loser!abby around her crush

abby had only recently come out, having realized she’s a lesbian only after she was finally in her 20s

she’s had crushes on girls before, of course, but it wasn't something she'd fully processed at the time

and now when she develops crushes, it’s much more different in that she’s more aware of herself

doesn't stop her from being a complete anxious mess, though

the first time she laid eyes on you, she goes almost slack-jawed and nearly drools on herself

abby’s usually a very cool and confident person

but girls? she’s unfortunately the definition of a "useless lesbian”

you'd been out for longer than she has, so you're a bit more collected when it comes to being around the girls you like

so when you met her for the first time, you were able to handle yourself well enough in the moment

but it didn't stop your heart from fluttering and your breath from hitching

your inner struggle about your attraction to her distracted you from abby's face flushing and her jaw tightening and her shifting her weight back and forth on her feet

of course you liked her, but you didn't do anything about it because you were absolutely convinced she just saw you as a friend

because of that, you remained completely oblivious to the true reason behind her sudden tense behaviour when you entered the room

you eventually just assumed that was the kind of person she was

you tried not to be too physically affectionate with her because she didn't seem to enjoy it (she did, but the way she reacted to it visually just made it seem like it stressed her out), but that's just the type of person you are, so sometimes you slip without meaning to

whenever you stood next to her, she'd be swaying slightly from side to side in total nervousness

when you're conversing with her one-on-one, she tries to avoid direct eye contact with you out of fear that you would somehow be able to read her yearning thoughts about you

abby's definitely chewed on her lip a little too hard that she's broken skin a few times when she'd be watching you just go about, performing what would seem like the most mundane things to other people. but to her, she would watch you endlessly in awe if she could

you've definitely wondered if you'd made her upset a few times because she'll be rigidly crossing her arms, looking very stiff and uncomfortable when you'd just be hanging out

when in reality, she's just internally chastising herself for pinning so pathetically after you

there have been a few times that your face has gotten a little too close to hers, and her breathing would suddenly get uneasy and she would not stop stuttering and repeating herself and eventually just forgetting any train of thought

any time that your skin would make contact with hers?

on top of her heart beating approximately 100x more than usual, her head and fingers and toes tingling, every beautifully sculpted muscle of hers tensing up, sweating in every crevice possible,

she'd just about nearly passed out every single time from the slightest bit of your touch

it wasn't until one day when you were both walking to a restaurant for lunch, just the two of you, that your obliviousness was lifted ever so slightly

you were walking alongside each other on the sidewalk (abby making sure to keep just enough distance as not to accidentally brush up against you), and you were laughing at some joke abby made

it distracted you enough that the tip of your foot got caught in a crack in the pavement

you would have absolutely eaten shit and gotten a face full of pavement had abby not caught you just in time before you'd completely tripped

you felt her strong, warm arms tightly embrace your figure from behind you, protecting you from the fall

your usual calm composure when it came to your little crush on abby was shaken, with you suddenly sweating and quickly getting woozy

she pulls you up from your bent position, keeping you still wrapped around her arms, and turns you to face her

she inspects your face intensely, unsure if she really did prevent you from getting hurt

you watch her with wide eyes, extremely aware of how her own face was mere inches from yours

when she sighs in relief that you're unharmed, she finally realizes how close you are to each other

you stay completely frozen in this moment of her still holding you tightly, staring at each other intensely

you notice how her eyes drift between your eyes and your lips, and for a second, you think she might actually do something

but the moment passes as she clears her throat and finally releases you before making a joke about your clumsiness

you laugh nervously at it, still nervously reeling from what just happened

there's absolutely no way she could feel the same way about you. right?

author's notes:

sorry this request took forever to get to but here it is finallyyyyy, y'all know i'm slow about requests cause i'm an anal perfectionist, saury

i really need to write more for my girl abby, she deserves the world. y'all just know my heart (and vagina) belong to my wife ellie.

hope this is what you were looking for, anon!

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

[domainedewinter]

A night to learn - Part 2/2

Summary: Aemond woke up in the middle of the night to hear his brother running from the house, again. He found him and decided to give him what he needed to keep him with him.

Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, , fingering, oral m receiving, toxic behaviour, SoftDom!Aemond, MxM, begging, nsfw.

Rating: 18+, MDNI

English is not my first language.

Aegon's moans filled the room in an utterly humiliating manner; If a few hours earlier he had known that he would find himself under his little brother, moaning like this, he would never have believed it.

Aemond was in private as he always was: meticulous and perfectly in control of himself and of the one in his hands. Aegon even wondered what experience his brother had to do this with such ease.

Because the very thought that his brother had slept with other people seemed incredible to him.

Aemond's hand had left the elder's cock to pull down his pants, growling in frustration, as if the fact that he was wearing clothes upset him. He took a moment to pull back his body and head, just enough to look at him and his gaze only burned Aegon’s skin in a new way. He felt his cheeks flush violently and turned his head over his shoulder when his mouth was free. “Aem.. what... are you..?”

“Shht, let me look at you. You’re not usually modest, why be so now.”

Aegon was not suffering from excessive modesty, he was simply not reassured to ignore his younger brother's thoughts.

Aegon swallowed hard, jumping when a hand wandered over his back and down to his ass, the fingers he himself had moistened coming to caress the entrance to his body. A breath caught in his throat and he tensed, but soon Aemond grabbed him by the hair again to pull his head back, making him groan.

“Relax. Since you run into dangers and strangers every night, I��ll make sure I find a way to put an end to this.”

As he spoke, his thumb pressed harder against his brother's puckered hole and Aegon wanted to lower his head and muffle his moans against the mattress, something Aemond did not allow him.

“Please…don’t…don’t hurt me.”

For a second, Aemond stopped moving, looking at him almost in shock, then furrowed his thin silver eyebrows. But soon, he regained consistency and pressed his burning chest against Aegon's stiff and almost trembling back, now drawing small circles against his entrance, forcing the elder's body to open for him.

His lips came to curl against his ear.

“If I want to hurt you, if I want to ravage your ass to the point you're unable to walk for the next few days, then I'll do it, again and again until you learn your lesson, brother.”

A sob of fear escaped Aegon who wanted to turn around, but once again, he was not allowed to do so, placing his hands against the mattress ready to struggle more if his little brother followed through on his threats. He was scared now, as scared as Aemond wanted him to be.

“But that’s not what I want to do to you. It will only be the last solution if the first does not put you in line.” With the tip of his tongue, he gently licked Aegon's earlobe, who shivered, this time with pleasure, and bit his lip, impatient to know what Aemond had in mind. “I’m going to take care of filling your pretty little ass, so full of me that you won’t be able to think about anything else. I’m going to make you cum so hard, feel so overwhelmed submitting to me and loving it, that you’ll never run outside again.”

As he finished his sentence, Aemond gave the elder no chance to respond, pushing his thumb fully into him several times before replacing it with his index and middle fingers, but Aegon leaned further on the bed, trying to escape the intrusion.

“Aemond, it’s too fast…slow down…you’re going too fast.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, the sensation making sweat bead on his body and it only made Aemond's predatory smile widen. “Nothing is ever too much for you, you always want more so believe me, I won’t stop until you are ready to welcome my cock inside you.”

Nibbling his ear now, he reveled in the way Aegon's ass clenched around his fingers and how, when he made a movement that was as calculated as it was precise, Aegon almost cried out with pleasure.

“Shh, there it is, that feels good doesn’t it? Now relax. I love hearing you scream but I want to make sure you're ready to take me inside you, because that's what you're going to do, right? Let me open your perfect ass until my cock can burn you from the inside out.”

A sinister, impatient laugh escaped him. “And you’re going to love it.”

Violently withdrawing his fingers, causing a certain frustration and incomprehension in Aegon, he stood up and quickly freed both of them of the last barriers that the clothes created around their bodies, the last barrier between them.

Aemond's long, thin fingers returned to tangle in his brother's shaggy hair as he stood up, placing the latter's face right in front of his manhood.

“Now make that mouth useful and make my cock nice, hard and wet enough to split you open.”

Aegon knew the moment he met his brother's gaze that this wasn't going to be gentle, that he wasn't going to take the same precautions with his mouth as he did with his ass but decided to not provoke him despite everything.

“Open your mouth, tongue out.”

He obeyed, and when Aemond's cock slid along his tongue, he could taste the salty taste of desire that must have been building in the younger brother during the last few minutes. Finding it strange at first, he began to close his lips around his brother's length and sucked, loving the weight of his desire on his tongue and the murmurs of pleasure it created from him. His hands came to grip his angular hips and quickly, Aemond made him speed up the movement, guiding his head as he wanted, and when he hit the back of his throat, he felt the heat tightening on him but was surprised not to see Aegon try to fight him off. Instead, he welcomed him as much as possible and let him fuck his face, tears rolling down his cheeks and his lips red and bruised from the assault.

“You do this very well, brother, really well. If I had known that your mouth could one day bring me so much pleasure.”

He chuckled darkly before picking his brother up and throwing him onto the bed. Aegon fell onto his back, panting, his face turned messy just as Aemond found he liked it. “Lie down, grab your legs under your knees and pull them up.”

Since Aegon seemed hesitant, understanding how open and vulnerable the position would make him, Aemond decided to take matters into his own hands, putting them under Aegon's knees and pushing until his knees touched his chest.

“Hold them.”

With an uncertain nod, Aegon obeyed and looked down to see his cock throbbing and leaking, his legs spread and his entrance on full display for his brother. He would then be able to use it exactly as he wished, his shameless eye looking where it would very soon sink into him.

Aemond spat into his hand, making a mental note to bring a more suitable lubricant for the next time because, next time there would be, and spread his saliva along his shaft, slowly before positioning the top of his cock to the entrance to his body.

“Eyes on me when I take what’s mine, watch me fuck you.”

The boldness and confidence of this man would always amaze Aegon, especially after knowing the uncertain and frightened little boy he had sometimes been.

Aegon's gaze locked with his, staring into his single lilac eye as he entered him, pushing all the way in, slowly but without stopping, not giving him time to adjust before he was completely in him, up to the hilt.

The vice of flesh around him was velvet, vibrating and burning and it was the best feeling Aemond had ever experienced. If until now he had already thought about starting again, he was now certain that he would never want to stop.

“Aemond!! It burns!”

“Breathe, love, breathe.” With his fingertips, he brushed back some silver curls that fell on his brother's forehead, caressing him gently just before leaning down and kissing him, swallowing the moan of pain that escaped his lips.

“Your body will get used to me. Let me make you feel good.”

His other hand snaked between their bodies to find his brother's cock and begin stroking it up and down, already finding it hard. With his thumb, he came to play on the top before starting again but still without moving inside of Aegon. 

He gave him a few indulgent seconds to adjust, his breath short and his heart pounding, until Aegon's tear-filled eyes soothed and his body relaxed, his hands roaming over his shoulders and he clings to him, nodding gently, giving Aemond the sign he had been waiting for to resume.

His thrusts were precise and deep, as if he were looking for something and, the minute he found it, a catlike smile appeared on his lips as he heard Aegon groan in surprise, his large lilac eyes wide with astonishment, questioning. 

“It’s good, right here, hm?

Another thrust and Aegon wondered why he found himself unable to contain his pleasure, why his whole body was numbed by this sensation he had never felt before and which electrified his body with desire.

He could feel his brother's manhood thrusting in and out of him with such force that he wondered if he would ever get up again. “The next time I fuck you, it will be on your hands and knees, and I will make you scream loud, so loud, I can’t wait to ravage your pretty little ass on display just for me.. but for tonight, I want to see your face, and I want to be sure that you see mine at the moment when you are completely lost in pleasure.”

A strange apprehension passed through Aegon's body, a pleasant fear, a promise that made him long for that next time to come.

But soon his thoughts had to cease their wandering, forcibly, because only pleasure had a place in his mind, completely clouded with it, having eyes only for his little brother who had become such a fierce man.

Aegon nodded frantically, tightening his grip on Aemond's shoulders.

“Aemond.. I.. I can’t hold on any longer, I feel weird.”

Of course he felt strange but since no one had ever done this to him before, he could only guess that he was going to cum, not used to feeling it from the inside.

Aemond's smile disappeared, giving way to the seriousness that usually characterized him when he relentlessly tapped, again and again on that spot that made Aegon scream.

“Hu-hu,” he scolded, “If you want to cum, ask politely.”

Aegon growled, hating being ordered around and never having had to belittle himself like this during an intimate act, usually being the one to say his words. However, he obeyed, feeling that Aemond's authority sent other electric and exhilarating waves through his body.

“Please, let me cum, please, please..” he began to whisper like a prayer and it was with indulgence that Aemond responded to his desire, fucking him and stroking his cock on the verge of exploding faster as he was pounding him from the inside.

Aegon arched his back, his breath caught and his moans swallowed by his brother as he came.

He didn't know how long the pleasure lasted through him but he could have put his hand to it as he had never had an orgasm so long and so good, so powerful.

A muffled moan from his plump, bruised lips echoed as his brother withdrew, and when he was finally able to open his eyes again, Aegon rolled onto his side, turning towards Aemond who was lying on his stomach, near him.

“Are you full enough of me to be calm now? Just know that if you’re not, the minute your unruly little mind wakes up again, I’ll be there to fuck you again.”

A slight and almost shy smile appeared on Aegon's face. "Is it a promise?"

This response surprised Aemond who chuckled, crossing his arms under his head to rest his cheek on them and look at him.

Aegon ran his hand through his hair to brush back his light curls then sat up on his elbows, running his fingers over his brother's shoulders.

Since he let himself be done, Aegon continued, going down on his back then placing his hand on his little brother's ass, looking up at him.

“Hmm?” the youngest asked, seeing the interest flash in his brother's eyes but wanting to hear what was on his mind. "What's up?"

Aegon seemed to hesitate for a moment, coming to press a little closer against his brother while continuing to caress his back and ass. “And you, will you let me do it? Will you let me take you?” He had lost his temper at his brother's directives, had let Aemond drag him to their house and use him, use his body as he wished, but now that he was completely sober of fear and apprehension he had felt, his body warming and calming after Aemond had taken care of it, he was regaining confidence.

“After all, baby brother, I’m pretty sure the only gift our parents gave me was a perfect little brother to fuck. Just for me.” Aemond didn't show it visibly but a little smirk appeared at the corners of his lips, amused at the idea of ​​exchanging roles and even if he had said nothing, neither nodded nor refused, Aegon already knew that the answer was yes.

[miasmaghoul]

From the prompt list

Dew/Aether #26

From this list.

#26 - as an apology

-----

"You're serious?"

Aether nods, but he can't look up. The disbelief in Dew's voice is something he expected, but it feels so much worse that he'd anticipated.

"Yes," he breathes, fiddling with a bracelet. "I told Papa this morning." Aether swallows, mouth dry. "I would have told you sooner, but -"

"Why?"

Aether sighs, scrubs at his face with both hands. The scent of antibacterial soap floods his nose, skin made dry from endless washing during his infirmary shift. He stares at the little ghoul's boots, black leather stark against the white tile floors. Maybe it was a mistake to do this here. Maybe he should have waited until tonight, until they were tangled up in bed and Dew was blissed out and half asleep. Maybe he'd sound less betrayed.

Somehow, Aether doubts it.

"I told you," he sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm tired, Dew. Too tired to keep up with the rest of you." Aether rubs the back of his neck. "You remember the last leg, right? How many times did Papa talk to me about my mistakes? How many times did you have to pick up my slack?"

"Aeth -"

Aether holds up a hand, and Dewdrop pauses. Aether can feel his scowl, eyes burning into the top of his head. He still can't make himself look up.

"How many nights did you have to spend massaging my hands, just so I could play the next day?"Aether cracks his knuckles, wincing at their stiffness. "Besides, they need me here." He gestures vaguely at the empty infirmary lobby. "Now that Omega's gone, I'm the only full-time healer we've got."

He huffs out a harsh exhale, pinches the bridge of his nose. This was so much easier in his head. He watched the little ghoul cross his legs, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

"I just...I can't do it anymore, Dew. I don't have the energy."

He falls silent after that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and waits. Waits for Dew to yell, to grab his coat and throttle him, to punch a wall - anything to express the rage he swears he can feel pouring from that slight body.

"I understand," Dew says instead, and somehow that's the thing that makes Aether look at him.

Dewdrop's expression reads cool, but his shoulders sit tense. The tip of his tail flicks through the air, obvious agitation, but it seems to be unconscious. There's something hard in his copper eyes, and Aether swallows hard.

"You...you what?"

"I get it," Dew says with a shrug, rolling his neck. "I was around when Zeph went through this, remember?"

That's...a fair point. Zephyr may have only joined them on stage for a few months, but Aether remembers very clearly all the evenings spent helping with their pain and exhaustion. He sighs, nods.

"Yeah, I do. But this isn't the same -"

"You could've told me, y'know," Dew interrupts, softer. "Before now, I mean. Before you told Papa."

"I almost did," Aether admits. Dew's casual demeanor has him off balance - he expected to have his coat singed by now. "But I was worried -"

"I wouldn't have told anyone," he interrupts, voice soft, and Aether stutters to a halt. Watches the little ghoul wring his hands. "Wouldn't have done that to you."

Aether blinks. Twice. That thought hadn't even occurred to him, not for a second. His hesitence came only from the risk of upsetting Dew, not from some fear of having his retirement revealed before he was ready. He cants his head and peers at Dewdrop, brow furrowed, and finds something new in his eyes. A watery glimmer of something so obviously sad, so fearful, that it makes Aether's heart ache.

"Oh, Dew..."

In half a breath they're caught up in each other, Aether holding the little ghoul to his chest in a crushing embrac, one hand on the back of his ash blond head and the other arm curled tight around him. Dew's hands fist into his shirt and he plants his feet between Aether's, huffing against his chest, and for a few moments they stay like that. Holding one another in silence while Aether collects his words and tries to figure out what he could possibly say to assure the one he loves more than any other that he'd never question his trust. To apologize for even making him think otherwise.

Then Dew pulls away just enough to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes, the gentlest smile curving his lips, and Aether has his answer.

The kiss is soft, gentle. No urgency, no tongue, just the perfect meeting of their mouths. Dew's warm hands come up to cup Aether's cheeks and Aether sighs through his nose, muscles he didn't know he'd tensed going lax. It feels like an age before they part, and Aether knows he doesn't have to say it, but -

"I'm sorry, firefly," he whispers, rubbing Dew's back and nosing at his temple. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Dew assures him, stroking his face, eyes searching his own. "I...I know."

Dew kisses him again, and Aether decides any other words can wait until his hands stop shaking.

[positivelyghastly]

Tiny Terzo Reliquary!

It’s finally finished! I decided to keep the embellishments to a minimum instead of doing a lot of tiny paper cutting when my hands have been really stiff with the cold weather, but I absolutely love how it turned out!!!

He now lives with my other little figures on my music shelf and I’m already planning to make one for my Copia figure when I get it next year >:)

Compiled progress shots and thoughts on the project below the cut! (Heads up, I ramble a lot)

If I was to make it again I would definitely have planned the roof section better and made the base in full panels instead of sections to minimise seams. I also would make sure I painted the inside before construction and put the plastic for the windows in last instead of having to mask them off for painting.

It’s made of a combination of 1mm and 2mm mount board (also called chip board I believe?), clear plastic from some packaging, stretch velvet and bamboo toothpicks. Ideally, I would have made it from acrylic because that’s much stronger but that would require a laser cutter or a jigsaw, two things I don’t have lol but the mount board takes paint much better without needing too much priming and sanding and cuts much easier with a scalpel.

I crocheted the lace using single strands of embroidery thread and a .6mm crochet hook. It was the first time I ever did any crochet on that scale and it was actually really fun and I’m planning a few more crochet lace projects in the future. Although I don’t recommend doing micro crochet if you’re very tense and have long nails because I was putting SO MUCH pressure on my thumbnail on the hand I was holding my work with that I actually had to take a break overnight because my nail bed was starting to hurt and didn’t stop hurting for like four days. Learn from my mistakes. If anyone’s interested, I put the stitches I used on one of the older update posts but it’s a very basic row of double crochet scallop stitches on a base of a single row of slip stitches to keep it small

The tufting on the back plate was done by marking out a lattice grid on a rectangle of mount board that was slightly smaller than the space it would sit in on the removable plate and punching the holes with my awl. I then chopped up some foam from an old bra that I’d already harvested the hooks and eyes from and glued that to the piece of mount board before covering with some stretch velvet. I tried doing the tufting in a few different ways. Originally I wanted to do it just with little French knots to look like buttons but I ended up not liking it so I took them all out and tried a couple of different methods for doing a lattice before landing on what you see in the photos. I went over in one long stitch along all the left to right diagonals and then did the same with the right to left diagonals and put in tiny couching stitches at all the intersections through the holes in the mount board to pull them in and give it that tufted look

I’ve really missed doing things like this. I went to college to study model making because my dream was to work in theatre either as a prop builder or set designer but with my disabilities I realised that kind of career that required a lot of work with heavy machinery and a lot of time on my feet isn’t a viable choice for me, so it’s nice to get back into something I’m really passionate about while also making something relating to my special interests

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Penance + (knock-off) Ambrosia

still alive, slowpokes :P

When -- during the meal at the Greene's Farm as seen in S02 Chupacabra. After Shame on a plate.

What -- Carol wanted to cook a communal dinner for the Greenes in thanks for all they've done to help your group. Under the weight of Otis' death as well as possibly having to vacate to God-knows-where, the shared meal is tense. Meanwhile, Daryl's busy beating himself up alone in his room and won't eat.

Relationships -- slow burn Daryl x You

Perspective -- You 2nd, Daryl 3rd

Pronouns -- neutral

TWs -- some language, and a non-descriptive allusion to Shane's actions in Stuck in a damn bed.

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

feedback is nice to get :D

Jimmy’s note to you reads: “What’s a pirate’s faverite letter?”

Easy, you know this one!

After double-taking at the typo, you scribble back “aRRRR!” and pass it to where he sits beside you, a smug grin tucked in your face. Only rule is: don’t laugh.

Yo, this table is fun, you’re not even embarrassed about being in your mid-twenties and sitting at the kiddie table. It’s too bad Carl tired himself out earlier, he’d be in stitches!

Oh, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be good, his actual stitches are still healing. So are yours, for that matter…

Anyway, it started off as a silly thing: Not 5 minutes into the meal, Beth had tiptoed to get her drawing pad from the den and wrote “please pass white gravy + pepper?” instead of whispering it, because supper had/has been that darn quiet.

This immediately (and somehow wordlessly) turned into the no-laugh competition you’ve all got going.

Granted, laughing out loud might would make the dinner a little less stiff, but you aren’t certain.

The big table seems rough. They’re barely making eye contact, not really talking, eesh.

Before dinner began, Patricia, Lori, and Carol were chatting as they finished up the cooking, and at the same time there was light discussion as you were helping wash the dishes and set the table with your friends. Even Lori exiting Carl’s room after plainly having been crying didn’t alter the good jibing any, things were chill.

But when everyone came in, sat down together? It got uneasy. When Mr. Greene said the blessing it almost felt too loud.

Now the room is limited to clinking, scraping noises, murmured niceties, and hushed requests to pass things.

You did almost lose the no-laugh game first when Glenn quietly mimicked the way Gollum said “what’s taters, precious?” because you whispered at him to “pass the mashed taters, please?” instead of ‘potatoes.’ Don’t fret, you’d obviously murmured back the only correct response of “po-tay-toes?” as well as the cooking instructions Sam says in the movie.

You almost lost it again when Glenn next decided to break the silence by asking the entire room if anybody knew how to play the guitar. The crickets that followed, hilarious!

Except, then Patricia spoke up that her husband had known, Mr. Greene agreed about how skilled Otis had been.

Oh, did the tension spike.

First thing you'd done was peek around to see if Shane was okay. He wasn’t.

His expression had taken on that 1000 yard stare sort of deal he’s been slipping into. Scared, lost. Then hard and almost mean.

Something got broke in him real bad that night Otis got killed. It’s scary, especially considering how he snapped at you yesterday and even…never mind, you don’t want to get into it.

At any rate, he made a very serious apology to you earlier today, very serious.

So, yeah, the room turned way more tense after that innocent guitar question, certainly sobered you up right quick.

And the strange sensation you’d had after Amy got killed, the one where it felt as if her blood was back on it, it started to come back pretty strong. Granted, it had come back after what happened with Shane the other day, too, but the sensation revved up more after the guitar question. Rest in peace Otis.

And at least to you, it made the unspoken understanding of Sophia twist harder, too.

When poor Jimmy got teary when his dad was brought up, you traced a blessing on his forehead and set to scribbling the next dumb joke you could think of on another scrap of paper for him and reminded yourself your hand was clean and that Otis and Sophia’s fates weren’t on you.

As for poor Glenn, once the exchange was over, he looked like he wanted to transform into a chair.

Silver lining was that Maggie helped him feel better; she slipped him a note that must’ve been a really good joke because Glenn seemed giddy as a schoolboy as he wrote down the punchline or whatever.

‘Schoolboy’ is definitely the best term — Mr. Greene and Dale happened to see Glenn sneaking back his response and were staring at the folded paper in his hand.

It’s kinda silly, right? Not only were you, Margaret, and Glenn sat at the kid table, but you were also acting like kids, what with the note-passing. Caught by the principal lol.

In the moment, you’d figured might as well, and so scribbled in big letters on the back of the notepad itself: “Too quiet, so we pass notes!”

When you held it up to the two of them, Dale read the words, swallowed a smile, then mouthed "troublemaker" to you.

As for Mr. Greene, his expression was, per usual, unreadable.

That was, what, all of 10 minutes ago? And it’s still a quiet, tense meal.

Maggie hasn’t taken the note from Glenn out her pocket to share it. A part of you hopes it’s something sweet, therefore private.

And, well, right now, you’re staring at your plate and thinking on how you’ve already got helping #2 on it. It makes you wonder if the quiet in the room, tense as it feels, might could be related to the food?

’Cause dude, it’s been so long since a hot meal this good!

Even the heartbreak about Sophia isn’t enough to stop the cravings from going into overdrive (not true, actually, but the meal is great, is what you mean)—and Carol orchestrated the dinner, anyway. She’s in a place where even she can eat, so…

Wiping your hand on your napkin again (and again), you take another sip of water, and fidget with your fork and knife.

God save you, you want to go hog wild on the food and shove it all into your mouth in one fell swoop. So, you know, maybe everyone else is also extra quiet to focus on eating politely and not stuffing it all in their face like half-starved hamsters, too.

That’s a nice thing to imagine, rather than it being gonna-get-kicked-off-the-property-and-we’re-very-sorry-Otis-is-dead-and-are-we-allowed-to-enjoy-things-when-Sophia-is-probably-dead? tenseness.

Because the food really is so yummy! And there are potatoes! Carol was so thrilled to find out they have potatoes! And there’s dairy! Therefore butter and cream and milk — hallelujah!— oh, you did a happy dance the second a forkful of the mashed taters touched your lips!

Back to the present, as you set to crafting an unnaturally large bite featuring a taste of everything from your plate, Jimmy is reading your response to his pirate joke while — grinning wide and shaking his head?

Then, you see as he scratches with the pen again on the note in his lap and hands it back to you.

Is not a pirate’s favorite letter R? What other letter could it…

You keep chewing while you open the folded note.

It reads:

“aRRRR? Nay, ‘tis the C!”

…

…

OH MY GOSH—

___________________________

Him

___________________________

A familiar laugh belted out from down the hallway where they was all doing dinner. This was followed by couple seconds of silence even more dead than the dinner already sounded.

But after that? It was as if a dam had burst and carried in pack of hyenas who quickly overtook the dining room.

He next thought he heard the word “pirate,” but that made no sense. A few minutes later, the hyenas seem to have left, judging by how shit got all quiet again.

That is until another noise, this time suspiciously moan-like, called out from the dining room. Within a second or two, he heard the food’s praises sung, T-Dog leading the charge, and, well, the din stayed put after that.

One, big, happy family.

Minus one missing little girl.

Daryl hadn’t touched his plate yet, hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. Didn’t feel like eating.

How those dickbags was having a dinner was beyond him at that point.

The search today was a bust, yet again. The neighborhood T-Dog’s group went to check was mostly burned down, and the highway spot set up for Sophia was still untouched.

Carol’s words to him wouldn’t shut up, neither — and why in the hell she gave him a kiss on his head?!

“You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole life,” she’d told him.

Can you believe that shit? “You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.” If failing and getting benched for a week was the best that little girl ever got, she had a piss poor life, and that fact whipped Daryl on the back harder than his own old man ever had.

Speaking of, when Carol brought him his tray, she hadn’t knocked. Meaning, Daryl hadn’t had time to pull the sheet over his shoulder before she walked in. His shirt had been off.

Daryl’s hope was that it’d been dark enough in the room that she wouldn’t see the scarring, just the tattoos. It's his own damn fault— he hadn’t felt like putting his shirt back on after Patricia checked his stitches, and house got warm from the cooking, besides. And because he didn’t care to slump out of bed and wrench open the window more, he stayed shirtless and decided to simply kick off his blankets.

Joke’s on him. And now, someone else had seen them.

He could just about hear Merle tell him, “quit wallowin’ like you’re on your period, Darylina.”

Well, Merle wasn’t really there, so Daryl would wallow all he wanted, and think on Carol telling him that he was also “every bit as good as them.”

As Rick, as Shane, as T-Dog, as Glenn, as — fuck, who cares, it didn’t matter. Because Daryl was not.

Carol wasn’t the best judge of character, just look at the turd she’d married.

“You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole li—”

—A steady knocking sounded at the door, breaking up the echoes of Carol’s words and setting Daryl on edge.

Yup, it was Y/N’s knocking, no mistaking it.

“Just open it!” was the loudest he’d spoken all day. He didn’t want to be around people, was that such a big ask?

There was a pause before he heard the door open a crack.

“Would you prefer to be left alone awhile longer?” his friend asked softly.

The annoyance Daryl had felt eased and drained off. His whisper was hopefully loud enough for Y/N to hear. “What is it?”

After another pause, whatever they said in response was too quiet and blocked by the door. All Daryl heard was “Red furseh?”

“Y/N, y’can just come in,” he relented. He even bothered to turn toward the door for them, except, his friend hadn’t opened it up yet.

“A-Are you decent?”

Am I…what, did they think he had his hand down his pants or something? “Yes.”

He watched as the door opened and Y/N (nervously?) looked at him, eyes flitting down along the bedsheet.

Goddamn, Y/N really did just worry if I had my hand down my pants.

“Are you ready for seconds?” Y/N repeated, relaxing.

Got it, that’s what they’d been asking from the doorway.

Daryl responded by way of a gruff, soft, “Nah.”

Another pause.

“Do you feel sick? Or are you,” they tilted their head and frowned again, “‘wallowing’ ain’t the right word — are you beatin’ yourself up, Daryl?”

Yes, somebody has to. “What do you want?” If Y/N could not hit the nail on the head right now, that would be great. He had a bandage on it, after all…

“I’m-I’m asking ’cause the symptoms are usually the same, I mean,” his friend started walking toward the bed as if they was hesitant to do it, “you ain’t even touched your plate, your voice is — for real, sugar, d’you feel sick, depressed, or both?” Saying this, they laid their wrist against his forehead.

“Careful, I got a bandage!” was stupid of Daryl to grunt, because it was coming off tomorrow morning and because Y/N was careful, but he grunted it anyway. Just — why’d they need to use that pet name?

“There were a whole lot of ways you could have contracted yourself an infection, and, well, y-your shirt is off. Ain’t never seen you do that, um…” Y/N inhaled, then exhaled slowly, and pulled their wrist away. “You are kinda warm, but it is warm in here. Really warm, actually, um, d’you want the window open more?”

Yes, please. “M’fine.”

He shifted back onto his side and resumed staring into space.

“Let me do somethin’ for you before I go,” Y/N gently insisted. “Please.” They put a soothing-type tone on. Normally, a tone like that would cause him to feel belittled or pitied, but, he didn’t know, maybe after this week he was used to it. And, he didn’t know, maybe pity wasn’t such a bad thing.

“First, would you like a shirt, or are you good?” his friend asked.

‘Would he like a shirt,’ hell yes, he would like a shirt.

The tugging sensation in his chest came back for a sec. Y/N had a knack for hitting the nail on the head with him. And while the offer was both innocent and loaded, he started to feel as if his soul had been stripped bare-naked in front of them again.

The fact that he’d even let them see his back had been a lapse, a huge lapse. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

But, if right now he didn’t act like it was the worst thing, he hated hated hated people seeing, nobody was supposed to see, weren’t nobody’s damn business! a big deal, it wouldn’t be, right?

Which is why Daryl decided to make no effort to cover up more at that moment, so that nothing would seem off. It made his skin crawl to not, it made him feel cornered, but he left the sheet where it was and decided to kick Y/N out.

Yet, strangely, instead of hoarsely grunting at them to 'leave him be' like he thought he was about to, he softly admitted, “Yeah.”

Y/N grabbed the clean, folded shirt and pants that Lori had brought and placed it beside him.“Here’s your pants, too, make it easier in the morning when you get discharged. Miss Patricia will come in and you’ll be all ready!” A nod at his untouched meal. “Want the plate to stay, or go?”

“Take it.”

“Positive? Carol, Lori, and Patricia went ham cookin’ the food. Literally, they cooked some salt ham, but there’s also a little of the fish left that Andy caught for me, if you’d prefer?” They tried to entice him more. “The green beans are fresh, the veggie casserole is creamy, and the mashed taters got fresh butter in ’em? There’s white and brown gravy…”

The thought of eating was tempting as hell, he’d give it that. He was hungry and the food smelled amazing. Still, he shook his head. The thought of putting a bite in his mouth made him feel sick.

Y/N looked a little disappointed, but accepted his decision with a tiny, forced smile. After a beat, their smile turned real. “You’ll get awarded MVP for not touchin’ your plate tonight,” they teased. “It’ll get shared well. I don’t reckon there’ll be crumbs left at the rate we’re hoovering it down, I-I accidentally already had thirds. But, um,” they added, biting their lip. “Dare, in a little while, please might can I bring you a bowl of dessert, in the least? You must be terrible hungry by now and you need to eat if you’re gonna heal, hon.”

He just sorta stared back, didn’t know what to answer yet. Them using a pet-name again wasn’t helping none.

This was no problem for Y/N, who seemed to have begun nervous-jabbering. “When I told Jimmy there was dessert, his eyes got all big. I’m not gonna lie, it was so darn cute. But I didn’t ruin the surprise and tell him what it is, I just winked and let him imagine. Do you wanna know what it is?”

His cheeks warmed. “What is it,” Daryl dutifully responded.

“It’s a surprise!” was the completely expected answer. Y/N looked very pleased. “But it involves hand-whipped cream,” they sing-songed.

___________________________

You

___________________________

You haven’t seen anyone’s mood here drop as low as Daryl’s has in the past few days, not since Andrea’s did after Amy died. Not even Shane after what happened to Otis, he’s handling the pain differently.

But just now when you enticed Daryl with the notion of whipped cream, he almost smiled, you saw it!

Victory!

And, before you went to Daryl’s room to see if he wanted more, you’d walked over to the big table and whispered in Shane’s ear that when dessert was served, he should wake Carl to give him a bowl and get “cool uncle points,” and he smiled, too!

Victory!

Why do you feel like you are personally responsible for holding everyone’s shit together?

Like, even at the dinner, after you’d burst out laughing, it felt so good to have eased the tension in the room, even if by accident. Then, when you heard the laughter dying down and the room going quiet again, you felt as if you’d just failed. So, you had to fix it.

Cue you to shove a big bite into your mouth and loudly moan about how good it was in the hopes that saying so would keep the momentum going. And prompt Hershel to accept your people, change his mind, keep your family safe, and keep everyone together because what if you personally aren’t trying hard enough or doing it the right way and things fall apart? Who’s fault will it be? Why does your stupid hand feel like Amy’s blood is on it again? Dale already explained how it’s ‘self-reproach because of survivor’s guilt,’ so why can’t you shake it off?

Okay, chill out, it’s not all on you. You’re not responsible, you cannot control and fix it all, it’s not all on you.

Surrender it up, and trust.

Offer it up and trust…

Thankfully, Theodore had joined in with your noise of appreciation, declaring, “I second that, mmm-mm!”

Good Moses, you could’ve legit knelt down and pledged him your fealty (or whatever it is squires did for knights in shining armor).

Heck, you were tempted to ignore the age difference and propose marriage to him instead, you were that relieved that he’d gone with it, because it prompted those at the big table to join.

Shane was right there for you, too. “This meal is hittin’ all the marks,” he quietly praised, “ain’t had grub this good in a while.”

Then there was a toast (thank you, Ricky and T-Dog), and things stayed fairly light after that. Light and comfortable.

And only during your last bite, when you noticed everyone else had seconds (…or thirds…), was it that you scrambled off, mid-chew, to Daryl’s room to see what he wanted for seconds and maybe convince him to join everyone.

Instead, you were met with an untouched plate and a man who’s voice could barely raise above a gruff whisper. So, you had to try and fix it, obviously, even if the only thing that would actually fix it is finding the little girl who everyone’s hearts have already mourned.

“Wha’ was so funny earlier?” Daryl suddenly surprises you by asking.

You snort. “We were trying to see who’d break first and laugh — this is at the kiddie table, by the way.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Psht,” you play-grumble. “But yeah, I lost the game big time. I’d just taken a very impolite sized-bite of food, too. Ain’t never swallowed a bite that big in my entire life, but I didn’t want to snarf in front of everyone!” Way to overshare, weirdo. “Oh, right, you’ll probably want to know the joke,” you remember. You can get scatterbrained when you’re carrying on. “What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

“A pirate’s what?”

“Favorite letter.”

“A pirate’s favorite…” Daryl makes a low, soft hum as he exhales. “Didn’t, uh, wasn’t most pirates illiterate?”

“Bro.”

“I dunno, um, the…P,” is the gem he comes up with.

Bless his heart, has Daryl never heard the ‘arrr’ joke before?

“Why a P?” you’ve simply gotta know.

“P…P for pirate, and peg-leg and um, eye-patch, and, the uh, they got parrots. That’s a lotta Ps.”

The immediate gut reaction you have is the strong desire to gasp with delight and smooch him square on the lips WHAT THE, why did his answer turn you on?? Oopsy lol, yeah, gross, no way. You meant to say, um, ah,…?!?

Anyway, you unfortunately end up squealing, “Oh Lord, that was hot.”

It’s fine, you slip in a ‘dude’ right after. “C’mon, dude, what do pirates say? Like the, the sound they make in movies and books?”

“I don’t, uh…'Yo-ho…ho?'”

That’s now you, belly-laughing, even as it makes your stitches pinch more. “No, the noise they make, like, when they’re mad or tryin’ act all scary.”

Hold the darn phone, is he — good Moses in heaven with the angels and saints, Daryl Dixon is blushing.

He’s gone from plain to red splotches on his cheeks, it’s visible even in the low lighting. The inconvenient butterflies start fluttering around in your stomach again, but this is such an unexpected treat, who cares? Ha!

“No way you’re turnin’ red, nerd,” you whisper.

“Stop,” he grunts in his way, and his eyes are crinkled and his mouth is threatening to grin.

A pleasing shiver travels down when you scrunch your pointer finger into a hook. “Arrr,” you enunciate with spot-on cartoonish flair, if you say so yourself.

His eyes shut when the punchline hits him. “Sonofa—it’s R, then?”

Hot damn, is this joke satisfying. “R? Nay nay, boy, ’tis the C!”

___________________________

Him

___________________________

That he’d gone from wishing he were left for dead in a ditch to laughing out loud in the few minutes his friend was in the room with him…Y/N was something else.

A weirdo, too.

The dessert was ambrosia, by the way, Y/N eventually came back into the room with two bowls of it. “Ambrosia” was a loose term; it didn’t have none of the usual stuff but for the pecans and cream dressing.

“It’s peach, raspberry, wild blueberry and pecan ambrosia with hand-whipped cream — Glenn won’t even know to miss the marshmallows!” Y/N had chirped.

Him telling them it was “knockoff ambrosia” (as a joke) only lead to them pursing their lips, giggling, then immediately going back to happily twittering on how: “Lori hand-whipped it to make it extra special, and Carol added a mite bit of buttermilk to get the tang it needs. Can’t wait to taste how it came out…”

Their little food dance as they took the first bite was cute.

And shiiit, the little moan they made as they shut their eyes and tilted their head back shouldn’t have been enough to turn his thoughts sexual, but yeahhh did it. The cabin fever was apparently messing with his dick, too, great.

But, like, why did Y/N say something he did was “hot?” Was it slang for something else, other than what he knew it usually meant?

“Dare, what do you think?” Another quiet, hummed moan, and then Y/N opened their eyes and saw that he hadn’t tasted any. “Oh, Daryl, c’mon and try some? It’s heavenly. I think I’m dying, it’s so yummy.”

Nah. As good as Y/N was making it seem, he couldn’t, and so, shook his head.

But then his friend said something that, weird as it was, for some reason hit the nail on the head for him once more. It was as if there Y/N was, seeing his soul bare-naked again.

“If I were your confessor,” they began so casual-like, “other than explaining how accidental injury ain’t sinful, I’d tell you your penance was to eat what’s in front of you.”

Y/N almost took another bite as if in example, but hesitated before the spoon reached their lips. The light expression they wore dimmed and turned serious. “All you’ve gone through this week isn’t divine justice, that ain’t how God operates. It was an accident. Just like Sophia. It, it wasn’t no test or punishment what happened to her. It was just a… a bad thing,” they hushed, eyes fixed on their bowl, spoon. With an empty half-laugh, they mumbled, “Suddenly can’t stand the thought of food, now, neither.”

With that, Y/N put the bowl to the side and didn’t seem to know what to do next other than maybe cry, by the look of them.

Daryl would’ve missed it if he’d gone back to spacing out and wallowing, but from the corner of his eye he noticed them wipe their palm on their knee a few times as if to dry it off.

He recognized what was going on, or was pretty sure, anyway.

After Amy got killed, Y/N had this messed up thing go on with the hand, the one they’d used to try and stop her from bleeding out. For a few days, it felt to them as if Amy’s blood was still on it and wouldn’t clean off.

Back when Sophia first went missing, he noticed their hand thing came back a little that first afternoon.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s clean.”

“What is?”

“Your hand.”

They took an extra beat to respond. “I-I know. It’s nothin'.”

“It’s clean,” he repeated, which resulted in Y/N bowing their head. “Ain’t nothing there, Y/N. Lemme see?”

His friend lifted their head back up, raised their hand for him, and shrugged. “Dale says it’s a guilt thing.”

Yeah, he could see that.

“It's not on you to fix everyone’s everything,” he needed to say. Y/N seemed like they didn’t remember that sometimes.

“Ayy, way to come at me with a hammer,” his friend answered with a dry smile. “I know I can’t fix everyone’s stuff,” they spoke carefully, their throat sounded tight. “But we’re called to help, right? After how far things have fallen, we’re called even more now to, to bring, you know, that, that light, to do what we can. And, and,” they stuttered, then took a deep breath. “I dunno. Before all this—did you ever feel like your life was stagnant? Like you was just...existing?”

Did Y/N know how well they could hit the nail on the head?

Yes, Daryl felt like his life was stagnant, it fucking was, he was a nobody! Didn’t do shit with his life, he’d just…rotted, and fixed up bikes in whatever direction his brother drifted. “Yeah.”

“That’s how I was was for years, too. Kinda floated one day after another, just tryin’ to make it to the next.”

Daryl stayed quiet. Yet again, they’d hit the nail on the goddamned head and he wanted Y/N to keep on talking.

And Y/N did, they kept chatting very matter-of-fact. “It got better, ev-eventually, I um, I got help, and then started forcin’ myself to do stuff, get out in the community, all that. Healed a bit.” They swirled their spoon around the bowl. “It didn’t fix everything boom, like: I still felt stagnant a lot, or like a failure, or that things were all my fault, still sometimes wanted to die really bad,” they shared with a shrug, very chill. “But that’s why we can’t rely on feelings, right?”

The invisible string was tugging Daryl’s whole damn torso toward them at this point and he just wanted to hold them to him and — shit, sorry, uh, he meant he wanted to pat ’em on the back, at least.

“Really, it was when the, um,” his friend bit their lip. “This is gonna sound weird.”

“Prolly, if it’s you we’re talkin’ about,” he ribbed, completely dead-pan.

His friend liked it, and even taunted back all goofy, “sure is, betch,” before their smile fell away. After a beat, Y/N quietly, quietly told him the rest. “It was when the…outbreaks happened, that I-I didn’t have to force it anymore. There was suddenly such a, a, a clear duty, clear sense of purpose, I dunno. Just—so much to do, so much to live for, and,” a big exhale, “so much work to be done.”

That explained a lot. Y/N tended to go hard, burn the candle at both ends, if that’s the right phrase.

In fact, he flat-out said so. “Is that why you push too damn hard to be ‘useful?’”

“Again with the hammer on the nail, dude. And, no, it’s—” Y/N found their words. “When you think how w-we, we might could get killed, at any second, any one of us. And how we’ll look back on it all, all our choices, and then answer what we did ‘for the least here on earth’…”

Ah, that checked out, too.

It was something, to see someone still believe in all that stuff after the world fucking ended, he’d give it that.

He used to, too. Not that he’d been any good at it.

Didn’t matter, he didn’t anymore. Not after the dead started walking.

“Now, before Teddy materializes in here to scold me, I get that ‘It’s not through our own efforts.’ And the problem I have with feelin’ worthless is a separate issue my faith helps tackle. Now, I know it ain’t about racking up works of mercy, but, dude—there’s so much work to do! And I want to do as much as —” Y/N shook their head a few times as if shaking out of it. “Sorry, I-I’ma just quit while I’m ahead, here. Oversharing Olympics.”

“Mm.” Hey, it was. “But that’s part of the deal with friends, right?” he murmured while trying to think of a good way to razz on them. “Means you trust ’em.” Y/N tended to make light about everything, so a tease would do ’em good, right? “It, like, Sunday or somethin’, preacher?”

The tease might’ve missed the mark that time, if he was seeing it correctly.

“Friday,” was all his friend mumbled back, and looked embarrassed as shit. The forced smile they offered in return — it made Daryl’s side ache more, somehow. And the way Y/N then sat there, curling their feet in and looking as if they felt…just about as small as Daryl did?

It was as if the invisible knee to the nards was connected to the invisible tugging string on his chest, because while that knee to the nards got him good, he felt that strange string tug toward Y/N big-time.

It was next, when Y/N stood up and moved to take the dishes out, that something very forceful moved in Daryl that had him sitting himself upright (sort of upright) and reaching for his bowl and spoon (oww) before his friend could get to it.

“It’s still good without the cherries and the marshmallows?”

His friend blinked. “Th-there are some, uh, it’s technically got those mini freeze-dried ones, as an extra-surprise.” They tilted their head, squinting at him in a way not unlike how Rick squinted at shit. “The Greene’s had some hot chocolate packets in the back of the pantry, we separated the marshmallows out.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Daryl commented, scooping a spoonful. Looked real pink because of the raspberries.

Y/N next twisted their mouth and almost seemed shy, when they realized what he was about to do.

It made Daryl feel good, seeing them spark up like that. And their shy smile was damn cute, as always.

“Oh, here, try mine if you’re only havin’ a bite,” Y/N asked, holding out their own bowl to him.

“Nah, m’gonna do the whole thing. It being penance and all,” he grunted, then waved his spoon at them. “You, too, go on. Do your penance.”

“My penance?”

“Yeah.” Oh goddamn, the stuff was delicious. “Have a seat, eat up.”

His friend settled on the side of the bed, still looking as if he’d caught them off-guard. They watched him eat for a few moments, and, Daryl had a random, unusual worry that he was eating too sloppy. But holy shit, fresh fruit and whipped cream!

He glanced over mid-scarfing to see Y/N nibbling on (no lie) half a pecan.

“Quit playing with yer food.”

This earned him a small huff and a “I’m savoring it.”

“White lies cost a quarter, remember.”

The amount of attitude Y/N next put into their next bite was funny. “I’b also sduffed a’ready, banjy hick,” they added with their mouth full.

Don’t smile too big, Daryl. “Penance is penance.”

“But pedaces ca be cobooted.”

Don’t smile too big! “They can be what?”

Y/N apologized, swallowed their food and their giggle, and repeated: “Penances can be commuted.”

“They can travel to work?” was his idea of a dumb joke, and this time it did the trick and he made them burst out laughing a second time.

Y/N broke into a laugh so hard they hinged forward and caused some of the cream dressing to get onto their shirt right before their spoon clattered to the floor.

“Laughing like that still hurts, you butt,” his friend wheezed, pressing their arm to their stitched-up side. They coughed a few times, still giggling, and when they thudded their chest a few times they winced. “Ow, bruise. And Lore just washed this top, too.” Another snort. “My fault for bein’ a sucker for dumb jokes, I guess. ”

“Ain’t nobody’s fault, just an accident,” he got the immediate urge to tell them, and so, did.

In response, Y/N looked at him with an expression he wasn’t sure how to read. It wasn’t a bad expression. Then, because that expression made his stomach do more flippy-floppies, Daryl gestured to their bowl again, and Y/N obligingly took another spoonful.

“Dis is so gub,” they hummed softly after taking the bite.

“Damned tasty for knockoff ambrosia,” he had to admit, joining along with another scoop of that damned tasty knockoff ambrosia.

“Do’d even deed deh bigger barshballows.”

Y/N was so fucking cute sometimes. “Or cherries.” He loved the cherries the best, after the marshmallows.

Y/N swallowed their bite.“Or the mandarins.”

“Or the pineapple.” His third favorite part.

“Oh, or the coconut,” Y/N realized, then thought out loud, “Shucks, this is a knockoff.”

“Tasty knockoff, I’d eat it again in a heartbeat,” Daryl murmured. He couldn’t believe his bowl was already empty. “Y/N, you just say ‘shucks?’”

“Shut up.” His friend shook their head and smiled. “Y’know, Daryl, this is prolly one of the top five penances I’ve ever gotten.”

“Top five?”

“One time I got ‘buy yourself something nice that you’ll get good use from. It’s okay if it’s a little expensive, it’s okay if it’s a little frivolous.’ Almost a direct quote, that. I’d been bein’ too, um,” they cleared their throat, “the priest thought I was a bit too hard on myself.”

Daryl knew whatever came next had to be something good, based on his friend’s playful little grin.

“That’s how I bought me my PS3. Pre-owned, so it was a solid deal, and it got very good use.” And with a wistful sounding exhale, they finished, “I miss that thing.” Y/N wiggled their bowl at him. “Please help me with this?”

Daryl’s mouth watered. The stuff tasted so good. Fresh, creamy, sweet, tangy.

Y/N raised their eyebrows at him and smiled.

“If I gotta,” he grunted back.

“Thanks for the assist. Plus, it’s penance.”

“Mm, guess I have to." Oh yeah, big scoop. "If it’s penance.”

------------------------------------------

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[hangesslut]

Captain and his Soldier

Levi Ackerman x Reader

It’s another freezing day in the Scout’s barracks. It’s been snowing for what feels like 10 years. Due to the heavy snow, we have the day off. I’m grateful because there is NO way I would have survived out in that cold. I slide on my plain clothes and a jumper that Reiner lent me. It’s huge and cozy, it smells like him too. As soon as I’m about to open the main door it comes flying open. “Y/N! Breakfast is almost over, where have you been?!”

Ah, Sasha… the most food motivated individual I think I’ve ever met.

I laugh, “I was just getting dressed, I’m coming don’t worry.”

She smiles at me warmly, “Well then, come on! I’m getting seconds!” She whispers that last part out and I shake my head. We make it down to the dining hall and I see all of my friends sitting and chatting with each other. “Y/N!” My eyes travel the crowd until I see Eren waving at me from across the room. He’s standing next to no other than Captain Levi. “What on earth could he be doing with him?” I think to myself. I start to wave back when I see he’s actually calling me over. I send a glance back to Sasha and she jus shrugs. I sigh and head over to the two men. Well, one man and one boy. I make my way up to them and salute. “Captain Levi, sir.” He nods at me and waves a hand. “It’s okay Y/N, you can relax” Eren looks at me wide-eyed as he says this.

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I drop my salute and stand there somewhat awkwardly. “So, Y/N is it? Titan boy here tells me you’re one of the best soldiers here.” I glance up at Levi, dragging my eyes from the floor.

“I-uh, that’s kind of him to say, sir.” He tilts his head back lightly, I can feel my body tense. “Well, are you? Are you one of the best soldiers here, Y/N?”

I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve physically stopped breathing. I gulp. “I do believe that I am somewhat more advanced than some others here, sir.”

He laughs. He actually laughs! “Is that so? I’d definitely like to see for myself.”

He has a half smirk on his face as he stares me down. I look over at Eren who has the audacity to have an encouraging look on his face. That little shit.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to, well, to…” I trail off, unable to come up with an excuse. Levi nods and steps closer to me.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s up to me and me only to decide was appropriate and what isn’t, Y/N.” My breath hitches and I stare into his eyes. My body is incredibly stiff. “Y-yes sir!”

I let out a breath as he backs up against the wall once again. “You’re excused, soldier.” I salute him again and then run off back towards my table, Eren following me close behind.

“What the fuck, Eren?!” He jumps back slightly alarmed by me yelling.

“What?! Captain Levi was asking who I thought were the two best soldiers and I told him you and Mikasa!” I groan and slam my head onto the table.

“Now he wants me to ‘prove myself’ or something!” I pick my head up and look in the direction of where Levi was. He’s sitting at a table, a little closer and smirking at me. I hurry and send my eyes to the table. I hear Reiner laugh as he plops down next to me.

“Oh Y/N, you aren’t scared of little tiny Captain Levi, are you?” I roll my eyes and lightly push him as he throws his arm around my shoulder.

“No I’m not scared, Reiner! I’m just… he’s a little intimidating sometimes.” He laughs again.

“I think he just likes you. Probably got a little crush on our Y/N.” He pinched my cheek and winks at me.

I shrug, “I doubt that very much. He’s probably just picking on me like he does everyone else.”

Reiner smirks. “Wanna test that theory?” I turn to face him about to question what he meant when his lips slam onto mine. My eyes shoot wide open as he wraps his hand up into my hair and pulls me closer. My body starts to relax and I kiss him back. A couple people at the table hoot and holler, someone else whistles. This is…crazy. He pulls back slightly, my eyes flutter open and look into his.

“I-Reiner…” my words fail and he smiles lightly.

“Look at Levi, Y/N.” He whispers in my ear and I slowly drift my eyes over to the Captain. He looks, well, he looks pissed. Reiner fully pulls away and I catch Levi’s eyes. He quickly stands up, practically running towards our table. I feel two hands grab tightly onto my shoulders and haul me up and out of the seat.

“Captain, sir! What are you-“ Levi cuts me off.

“Shut up, brat. We’re going for a walk.” He drags me out of the dining hall and continues on until we reach an empty hallway. I’ve never been here before,

“Where are we?” My question falls on deaf ears and he pushes me gently against the wall.

“Y/N… a-are you with Reiner?” His body is touching mine, but his eyes are on the floor.

I take a deep breath in and sigh quietly.

“No, Levi. I’m not with Reiner…” I try to get his eyes to look at me. When he finally does he looks like he might cry. “Then why was he kissing you?”

I slowly reach up and place my hand on his face. He flinched and then relaxes into my touch.

“I-Levi, he said that you might have a crush on me and wanted to ‘prove it’ so he kissed me to see your reaction.” He scrunched his eyebrows up and then relaxes them, nodding.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did… I just, I’ve watched you for awhile. During training and out on expeditions. I know I don’t know you personally, but I think I’ve fallen for you.” My eyes are wide and widen at each word. Levi. Captain Levi. The Commanders right hand man. Humanity’s Strongest. He likes me. Levi likes me. “Y/N, please say something…” I snap out of my trance, hearing his voice again.

“I-I might like you too?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement. He smiles down at me and pulls me into his arms. I stand there for a moment, not sure what to do. “Please Y/N, hug me back.” I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and slowly breathes it out, the warm air fanning over my neck. I slowly melt into his touch. Relaxing entirely, allowing myself to just be held. He pulls back and looks into my eyes.

Stepping back he smiles and grabs my hand. “Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

I smile back, wider and squeeze his hand.

“Levi, I would love to.” He pulls me in for another hug. Pulling away he kisses my forehead, “I think you should go finish your dinner.” I laugh at his comment while trying to conceal my blushing face. “I probably should… I’ll see you later, Captain.” He smiles down at me and pushes off the wall, “See you later, Soldier.” Walking back to the dining hall, all I can think about is what the hell I’m going to tell my friends.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Part 2

Eyeless Jack x Reader (NSFW)

Part 1

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss tysm darling, I really appreciate the support <333

I've given it a title so therefore, I have officially made it a ✨thing✨ The outline has 6 parts rn, but I'm far from done~

AND once I finish Dirty Little Secret on my patreon, I'm thinking I'll rewrite this series but in like,, the reader's POV. So anyways, all that to say I've very much been enjoying this and I'm excited to keep it going uwu 💕💞💓

I've also been having some formatting issues on this one, for some reason?? I tried fixing it up but please lmk if there's anything off AND lmk if you enjoyed <3

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

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Masterlist: x

It comes as no surprise when he ends up in bed, hard dick in his hand, thinking of you for the god-knows-how-many-th time

Try as he might to fervently rut into his clenched fist, he knows no feeling would ever compare to you bouncing on his cock instead

The taste of you on his tongue had dissipated much too quickly, but that doesn’t stop him from desperately trying to reimagine your arousal on his lips

He grunts, his hips grinding up, cock tensing and twitching in his hold

It’s torturous

He needs you

Precum beads up at his tip, and all he can think about is the way you’d lap it up with your tongue

Friends

Every time he imagines all the ways he could fuck you senseless, the word friends interrupts his fantasy

Really, he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He shouldn’t be having such depraved thoughts about someone who doesn’t want anything to do with him beyond friendship

But he can’t help it

You drive him wild

The sounds of your pretty little moans and whimpers are stuck on repeat in his head

The way your body writhed in his touch, the way your perfectly wet cunt tightened around his tongue—everything about you gets him drunk with lust

His room feels unbearably hot

Try as he might to relieve the throbbing ache of his stiff cock, it’s no use

He can’t be satisfied without you

And he realizes, fuck, you’ve triggered a heat

The next few days are absolute hell

He’s on and off his heat

Every time it’s on the cusp of dissipating, his thoughts scramble back to you, and it starts all over again

He waits at least a week before leaving his room—just to be sure seeing you won’t jeopardize anything

And it’s only a day or two after he leaves his room that he runs into you again

It’s an early morning, with pale sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows

You’re at the table, sipping on a coffee, and a few other creeps are scattered about the dining room and kitchen

He doesn’t know whether he should be irritated or grateful that there are other people around

Probably the latter, considering he wouldn’t know how to act if it was just the two of you

But it’s hard to feel grateful when Jeff decides to take a seat right next to you

And god, does he ever hate the way that guy looks at you sometimes

He debates staying or going as he makes his coffee

Staying might aggravate him if he notices Jeff trying to pull any moves on you

But on the other hand, leaving might risk something developing between you and Jeff

The more he can interfere between you and other potential suitors, the better

He can’t let anyone else have you

So even though he’s, admittedly, being childish when he takes the other open spot next to you, he tries to play it off like it’s nothing

Like he hasn’t been jerking off to the thought of you for the past week

You don’t seem to notice, but Jack doesn’t miss the way Jeff glares at him when he sits

Try me, Jack wants to say

Jeff huffs out a breath when he realizes the hybrid won’t back off

And the sheer audacity of that guy—thinking he can just waltz up to you and have you all to himself—it unlocks something primal within Jack

“What’s wrong?”

Your voice, as angelic as ever, suddenly breaks the mounting tension in the room

Jack feels like a filthy perv when the first thing that comes to mind is all those pretty sounds you made when you came against his mouth

He just wants to fuck more of those precious sounds out of you

Deep breaths, deep breaths

“What? What do you mean what’s wrong?” Jeff answers your question with his own, trying to act dumb

And thankfully, the grating sound of his voice is enough to snap Jack out of his fantasy

“Why do you look so aggravated all of a sudden?” you ask, your tone lighthearted and joking as you sip your coffee

“Yeah, Jeff, is something wrong?”

Jack tries to keep his voice as genuine as possible when he backs you up, but he knows Jeff is fully aware of the cocky grin he’s wearing beneath his mask

And he has to suppress a snicker when the guy glowers at him

“Just… life,” Jeff haphazardly grumbles, not wanting to admit Jack’s ruined the alone time he wanted with you

A cruel joke comes to the demon’s mind

It’s dumb and immature, and he knows he shouldn’t say it, but he wants to say it

So, he does

“Oh,” he hums, “is it that problem you’ve mentioned to me before?”

Jeff’s eyes meet his, brow arching

“What problem?” he asks, taking the bait

“You know,” Jack continues, trying to act as natural as possible, “that issue you’ve been having. I told you, you might need to change your diet. More fiber would help you become more regular…”

His chest practically swells with pride when you snort out a laugh

“Oh my god, is that what it is?”

You burst out laughing even harder at the expression on Jeff’s face

“The fuck!? That’s not even true! Why would you say that—what the fuck is your problem, man?!”

He can try to say whatever he wants, but it’s no use; he knows Jack’s gotten the best of him

With an angry snort, he stands

“Whatever, I’m over this,” he growls

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you and a very self-satisfied Jack alone at the table

He finally has you all to himself

Well, minus the creeps coming in and out for coffee and breakfast

But at least none of them seem particularly interested in you

Not in the way Jeff seemed to be, anyways

“Christ, he’s so dramatic,” you chuckle, shaking your head with a smile on your lips

There are suddenly butterflies in Jack’s stomach

God, you’re so fucking cute

“Was that even true?”

You look at him when you ask the question, and he almost forgets how to breathe for a minute

He shrugs, hoping you don’t notice the effect you have on him

“If he’s constipated? I mean, I don’t know if I should say anything about it. Seems like he’s embarrassed about it…”

You shake your head with a snicker

He wants to kiss you

Fuck, he really, really wants to kiss you right now

Crash his lips into yours until he’s all you can think about

He wants to wrap your legs around him, slam your back against the table and make out with you until you’re a pretty little dazed mess beneath him

Blood rushes to his junk

He shifts in place, trying to ignore it

Friends

As unwanted as ever, he’s reminded of that fucking word again

But even despite it, he isn’t entirely sure where the two of you stand

Hell—he’s more uncertain than ever

Did you really want to forget that whole thing happened in the first place?

Go about things like normal—as if he hadn’t buried his face between your thighs?

As if you hadn’t pulled his hair and whimpered his name when you came against his lips?

He takes a sip of his coffee in a vain attempt to distract himself

But it’s hard to think straight when his dick keeps throbbing for attention

He quietly clears his throats, as if that could help anything, and he shifts in place again, subtly trying to readjust himself in his grey sweats

It’s only when his knuckles accidentally graze your bare thigh, only when he hears your quiet little gasp, that he freezes in place

The sound was barely audible, but he knows what he heard

He glances down, and he almost groans out loud when he notices what you’re wearing

It’s those same fucking shorts

He’s at a loss for what to do

The both of you are in the middle of the kitchen dining room—for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be having half the thoughts he’s having right now

But even then, he can’t bring himself to pull his hand away from your thigh

The minimal amount of skin-on-skin contact is making his head spin

He needs more

He’s never felt so insatiable

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist stroking at your leg

The motion is slow, soft, calculated, so that he can enjoy every inch of your perfect skin

Neither of you move as he gently traces over your thigh with the back of his knuckles

His chest is pounding

He can hear your heart beating, your breath hitching in your throat whenever he gets closer to the edges of your shorts

He wants you

God, does he ever want you

That pesky word keeps coming to mind again, but he forces himself to forget about it

For now—at the very least

You don’t make a move to stop him

You almost seem to welcome his touch

But that uncertainty is still there

Which is why he takes things unbearably slowly when he moves his hand between your legs to grasp at the flesh of your inner thighs

You make what sounds like a quiet whimper

And the sound goes right to his cock

As if a whole week of jerking off to you wasn’t enough

Inch by inch, his touch dances further up along your thigh

And though it’s subtle, he can’t not notice the way you part your legs just the slightest bit more for him

You’re giving him permission to touch you—right here, right now—of all places?

He breathes in, and when he gets a whiff of your scent, he decides fuck it, there’s no way he can let this opportunity slip him by

So under the cover of the table, even despite the few creeps still lingering about, he pushes past the material of your shorts to access your sex

You’re wet

You’re already turned on for him—he can feel it through your underwear

Screw anyone around to see, he wants to bend you over this table right now and fuck his cum inside you

He wants to breed you and mark you and make sure everyone knows by the sounds of your screams that you’re all fucking his

He strokes your slit up and down through your panties, and he adores the way it has you squirming in place

Fuck, you’re so cute

He wants to ruin you

But he also wants to enjoy every second of this

So he takes his sweet, sweet time running his fingers along your covered sex until he can feel you getting wetter and wetter

It isn’t long for you to thoroughly soak through your panties

And all he wants is to taste you all over again

He swallows down a growl at the thought

His body’s burning for yours

You keep squirming and quietly gasping as he teases you

And he’s so entranced by you, he nearly forgets you’re in an open room

All he can focus on is the way your body’s reacting to him

Whatever delicate threads of control he’s still grasping onto feel like they’re slipping from his hold

When you whine his name out, so cute and desperate and needy for him, it’s all the approval he needs

He pushes your underwear to the side and runs his fingers up and down your slit

The way your arousal gathers on the pads of his fingers almost makes him lose it

He just wants to pull you into his lap and fuck up into you until you’re gushing around his cock

But somehow, he manages to hold himself back

He teases at your clit very, very briefly, before then slowly sinking two digits into your opening

His chest rumbles with an involuntary groan as he immediately feels you clench around him

You bite back a moan, but he can still hear the way you sigh at the feeling

You’re so wet, so perfectly tight around him

He imagines how good you’d feel wrapped around his dick

You shift in place, breathing his name out in a shaky moan, and it’s a miracle he still has the self-control to not screw your brains out yet

He’s about to suggest taking things to your room when Hoodie walks in and locks eyes with you

If Jack were any more coherent beyond his lust, he’d probably pull his hand out of your pants

But he’s beyond giving a shit at this point

The proxy pauses, almost curiously, and instead of going for the fridge or pantry, or wherever he was going to go, he makes his way towards you

Jack feels you stiffen

You clench around his fingers, your breathing uneven

He knows he should stop

But he’s not done enjoying the warmth of your tight cunt fluttering around him

And so what if Hoodie notices?

At least then, he’d know who you belong to

The demon is entirely aware he’s being selfish

But he can’t bring himself to care

He’s too far gone

So even as he watches Hoodie greet you, even as he watches you, dazed and horny and sex-drunk off his fingers, struggling to greet the proxy normally, he doesn’t pull away

Let him know

Let him know who you’re allowing to do such depraved things to you

“(Y/n), you missed our training session this morning,” Hoodie says, and a bout of anger flares up in Jack’s chest

Oh how he loathes the thought of another man getting physical with you

It makes him curl his fingers inside you to reach right up against a spot that has you cinching around him

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip briefly before you can recover

“Y-yeah, uhm, sorry about that”

Your voice is shaky, your face visibly flushed

But you haven’t even tried to stop Jack yet

You want this as much as he does

“I, ah, I meant to let you know, but I—I forgot… to mention it”

In and out, the hybrid painstakingly slowly pumps his fingers inside your velvety walls as you try to talk normally

He flattens his palm against your clit, and your hips buck against his touch, which you quickly try to pass off as shifting in your seat

“Hm, that’s alright,” the proxy hums, then tilts his head curiously. “Is it because you weren’t feeling well? You look kind of… off”

Jack stiffens as the man reaches out to press his hand against your cheek

It’s just to check if you’re feverish, the logical part of him knows that, but the irrational part of him despises that he’s just laid a finger on you

A warning growl emanates out of his chest—low enough that it seems to slip Hoodie’s attention, but loud enough that you seem to notice it

You’re his—what’s not to fucking understand?

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just… ah, j-just didn’t sleep too well—“

Something like a choked moan evades you again, and you have to pretend to cough to avoid suspicion

Jack grinds his hand against your clit, and your whole body reacts to his touch

“S’alright,” the demon hums, and he briefly wonders if Hoodie notices the unusually husky timber of his voice when he does, “she might have the flu, but I’m checking up on it. She should be fine, nothing serious”

You squirm, and he teases at your sweet spot again, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing right where you need it most

You can’t look Hoodie in the eyes as your thighs start trembling

Your hand looks unsteady as you bring the coffee to your lips, but you manage to drink it down without spilling anything

The proxy glances between you and Jack, and Jack wonders if he’s caught on yet

Either way, if he has, he doesn’t show it

“Well, alright, I hope you feel better soon. Let me know when you want to train next time”

You nod, humming to hide another whimper as Jack’s fingers don’t relent

And then finally, finally, Hoodie leaves

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jack crams his fingers into your inviting heat in a slew of rough thrusts

You gasp, almost moaning out very loudly before you manage to cover your mouth to muffle it

It doesn’t take long for you to cum around his digits

And god, you’re breath-taking as you do so

Your back arches, body tensing as your teeth bite down hard into your lips to prevent a scream from escaping

How he wishes those were his teeth biting into you instead

And just like that first time he made you cum, he can’t seem to bring himself to stop

It’s only when you’re shaking from the overstimulation, only when you reach out to pull his hand away, that he finally relents

His fingers are dripping with your arousal

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist bringing them up to his mouth to taste you off his digits

And fuck, you taste just as good as you did the first time

You’re panting, chest heaving, a perfectly unfocused look in your eyes

He wants to pick you up, take you to the nearest bedroom and fuck you stupid

Friends, fuck-buddies, potential partners—he doesn’t know where the two of you stand

But at this point, labels don’t matter, he thinks, not really, anyways

He’s not letting anything come between the two of you

You're his

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART NINETEEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: gossip, wedding dresses trials and the visit of your mother who obviously doesn't like your fiance makes everyone really question if your wedding will happen or not

• PART ONE TO EIGHTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut and actual smut yay (unprotected p in v, ass play, butt plug (f!), oral f!receiving, fingering and SQUIRTING) breeding kink if you squint, reader's mom is a bitch, insecure!reader, insecure!Javi, fluff ❤️

A/N: besties, this one was a real hard chapter to write. It took me days to get it done and it wasn't even good, I don't know what happened, it felt like I simply couldn't get the story going, but in fact, I know exactly what happened: I am having a real hard time to let this story go, which is why I announce you guys, next chapter (chapter 20) will be our last one! It's time to give reader and Javi the happy ending they deserve it ❤️

5.8k words

The first thing you felt when you stirred in bed as you were trapped in that moment between sleep and consciousness, was Javier's boner pressed against your body. It wasn't unusual, it was a feeling you grew to love every single morning you woke up next to him, but with his recent absence once he left Colombia, you had missed it. It was just one of the particularities of your relationship that just made you and Javi… well, you and Javi. 

You rubbed yourself against his hard on, dragging whimpers from his sleeping face, you didn't mean to tease him, you just wanted to be closer, feel his warmth against your body, like you had longed for all the time you had to spend apart. His arm was thrown over your body as you felt him sinking his face further into your hair, giggling softly at how he just mumbled something in his sleep. You hadn't seen Javi relaxed like that in months, you liked it. He wasn't wary, his body wasn't tense or stiff and he didn't wake up at every move you made in bed.

You opened your eyes and took in your surroundings, you were so used to the old routine, you expected to find yourself in his apartment in Colombia, the old furniture, the mirror facing the bed, the heat barging in from the window, but instead, you saw the room was still dark, blinders closed, the disposal of the furniture was different, the decoration wasn't the same, but the mirror by the bed… that remained. Dirty old Javier, always showing his kinkiness in the slightest details. He mumbled again against your head and you chuckled, you loved this new dynamics you two had established ever since you got to Laredo, it'd been a few weeks now and you were adapting just fine. 

At first, you were so worried and anxious about everything. First of all, terrified Chucho would be annoyed at your presence, after all Javier just told him eventually one day you would move in with them and just a couple of days later you showed up there without a warning and he was forced to take you in. No matter how many times Javier tried assuring you Chucho was fine with it, you still felt worried about bothering him, you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home and more than once you reminded Javi you would be okay with going somewhere else. 

But you father-in-law happened to be a real welcoming person; at first, he was serious, kept to himself, and he very often glanced at you, as if he analyzed you, trying to figure out if you were a good person or not. At first, it was obvious he didn't put faith into Javier's engagement, that boy had been engaged once and things didn't end well for neither part, and Chucho was terrified of another scandal and the inevitable humiliation that would come together in case his son replicated his old behavior; that was until he noticed how head over heels Javier was for you, and then his concerns changed: what if instead of Javier breaking your heart, you broke his? 

And that was why at first, all the older man did was stare at you and watch you quietly, trying to get a glimpse of your intentions. He knew Javier wasn't a child anymore, his son was strong, independent, and didn't get attached easily, but at the same time, Chucho had never seen him act towards a woman like that, he could see the need Javier had of you, of your touch, how he constantly had a hand over your body: on the small of your back, your thigh, your waist. It was explicit to him how emotionally dependent Javier was on you and it made him shiver to think of what would happen if you left him, he was sure his son would have a hell to pay. Some would've said he deserved it, he had it coming, but Chucho would be heartbroken too, he knew his son already came back from Colombia a little broken after everything he witnessed, and he didn't want him to suffer anymore. 

But you started waking up early every morning and made everyone breakfast and your father-in-law couldn't deny the fact you were a good cook, and that breakfast was way better than his and his son's. Then when Javi and him left for work, you'd stay, organize the house a little and wait for them always with lunch and dinner ready and Chucho didn't hate that at all. But what really got to his heart, was when you asked him about what Javier was like when he was little. He saw it was finally his opportunity to speak, he'd missed that, having someone to talk to and you and him were quick to establish a good, sweet relationship. He was fatherly and protective of you and you were kind and patient with him. You understood the years of loneliness made him harden, somewhat like it had happened to Javier in Colombia, but once you showed him you were willing to listen to him, to what he had to say, Chucho became almost a second father to you, he appreciated you for giving him the attention Javier didn't, you listened to him, you paid attention to his advices and his life experience, and before he knew, he was convinced you were the right girl for his son, because to Chucho, you were already part of the family. 

You also really enjoyed the times you spent with him, he was a wise man, he told you a lot about his life, his deceased wife and of course, about your Javi. And that's how you learned Javier was terrified of chickens when he was a toddler, and how he fell from a tree and broke his arm when he was eight. And how Chucho walked on him losing his virginity with Lorraine once when he came earlier from work. 

And Javier wanted to kill himself, mortified and deeply embarrassed about being exposed like that to you. He knew you had a deep admiration for him, and he worried that would be ruined after the dreadful things his dad had told you about his life. 

And all you could do was laugh, you loved learning more about him, each time you passed by a chicken you couldn't help yourself but giggle, and whenever you saw Lorraine running errands in town you couldn't help but cringe at the story you heard. No wonder she barely looked Chucho in the eyes. You also felt pretty good to learn that Chucho never called Lorraine 'mijita' just like he called you. You knew it was petty, she probably didn't even care about the Peñas anymore, but you couldn't help giving into that small competition established in your mind and fueled by people in town. Ever since Javier arrived, many people seemed to be betting against your relationship, they didn't mean harm for real, but they just had their fun by letting snarky comments here and there as if you and Javi were two tabloid celebrities with a scandalous life. 

In the first weeks, it bothered you a little, it was just so disrespectful to be walking around the store and have people whispering about you, not even waiting for you to leave before making their comments, but as you were getting used to the city, you began simply not caring about things at all. Whenever you were out with Javi, you made sure to hold his hand, kiss his cheek or peck his lips, if people wanted to comment, then you two would give them something to talk about. So it stopped being annoying and it became funny, to the point of you and Javi establishing a competition of gossip you'd heard about yourselves. 

'Did you know Y/N is pregnant and she is trying to hide?' 

'I heard Javier is going back to Colombia and leaving his girlfriend behind' 

'They aren't a couple, they are both undercover to chase down Pablo Escobar who faked his own death and moved to Laredo"

It always made you and Javi laugh, it was good to know your relationship was healthy enough so you could joke about stuff like that, you felt good about it, and Javi felt his heart swelling with pride to see you trusted him blindly. 

While Chucho and Javi left for work, you often walked around town, sending out your resume to companies you found interesting, you often went grocery shopping and you got your library card done, so you could pick up a book and entertain yourself. Camila, the girl who gave you a ride to meet Javi the day you got to Laredo became your friend, and you sometimes hung out together at coffee shops or bakeries. Your life in Laredo was going better than expected, you weren't having any problems, you enjoyed the place, the weather, your relationship with Javi was just as good as it had been, he still couldn't keep his hands off you and you had already fucked in places you probably shouldn't have. His truck for once, the stables, the green fields behind his ranch… He also fingered you when you two went to the movies. You didn't even pretend you didn't want to, or that you thought it wasn't a good idea anymore… anywhere Javi wanted to take you, he had you willing to spread your legs for him.

It was so good, the intimacy you had with Javi you never had with anyone and you couldn't even if you tried. Though Javi's bedroom was away from his dad, you couldn't make as much noise as you would like to, so every Sunday morning, while Chucho went to church as a good catholic man, you and Javi enjoyed your alone time together. He would take his time with you and you loved every single part of it. 

So you were already awake, when the rooster crowed and you knew it was only a matter of time for Chucho to leave for church. On the weekends, he established you didn't have to make them breakfast, it was your time off, but you still got up and made it, because the earlier he has breakfast, the sooner he'd leave you and Javi alone. 

You were organizing the kitchen when Javi walked to you, arms snaking around your waist and kissing your neck. You whimpered at his touch, always knowing your body so well. 

"Come on Javi, have breakfast honey" you whispered as he kissed your neck, nibbling it and not caring if he'd leave the mark of his teeth on your skin. 

You groaned at his touch, Javier just had a way to touch and tease you, making everything else seem so distant and meaningless. At his touch, it felt like nothing but him and his cock mattered to you.

"You know damn well what I wanna have for breakfast baby girl" he whispered, his hands going for your breasts, squeezing them softly and toying with your nipples "you know I'm so fucking hungry… and thirsty for you" Javier whispered into your ear and sent shivers down your spine. Ever since he'd made you squirt for the first time, Javi was addicted to it, and he devoted his Sunday mornings to see you pour for him. There was nothing that made that man go on more than drip down your sweet honey, it drove him mad and you both knew it. "Come on cariño, the bed is all ready for you… everything is waterproof, your soft towels are in place so you can make your delicious mess, mi amor" he whispered and took you by the hand. 

    •••

Javi had been pounding into you for a while, you were feeling so worked up, your wetness leaking out of you as your cunt was already sensitive and swollen. Javier had teased and stimulated you, knowing just how to get you ready for him. A plug he had gifted you a couple of weeks before, shoved deep into your tight asshole, because he just knew you squirted when all your holes were filled. You felt so full, Javi's thick cock pounding into you as he pulled and pushed your plug by its base, fucking your ass at the same time. You were tired, sweaty, the knot in your lower belly getting more and more urgent and yet you still had to be strong enough to hold back your orgasm because Javi would punish you if you came before he told you it was okay to do it.

Your legs shook and Javi groaned at each thrust, the way your walls tightened around his cock, making him even more sensitive to you, but he was determined, he wanted to have all of your honey and he wouldn't stop until he got it. 

Suddenly, his moves ceased and you felt empty as Javier slid out of you. You panted, trying to catch your breath glad to have a small break, which didn't take very long, not with Javi getting between your legs once more and breathing down your cunt "you're so perfect hermosa, you look so beautiful all spread up and open just for me…" he praised, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh, small gentle kisses, just enough to drag goosebumps all over your skin. 

"Javi please… don't tease" you whimpered and saw his frown, before his hand swatted your cunt in one dry slap 

"I can do whatever you want, cariño, this cunt is mine, this ass is mine, you are entirely mine, aren't ya?" He questioned you and you just nodded at him, whimpering as Javi finally got to your clit, suckling on it at the same time he used both arms to keep your waist in place, not letting you escape him as he ate you out, your legs shaking as he locked you with one arm, leaving the other free and shoving two fingers deep into your cunt, hitting your special spot and speeding up. He smirked at the undeniable pleasure in your face, loving how you moaned and slithered softly among the sheets. You felt that intense sensation building up once more, your lower belly felt on fire and you knew you were too close now, Javi could tell you weren't able to hold back any longer and softened up, giving your hard, soaked clit a gentle kiss "come on princesa, pour for me, make it fucking rain" he whispered against your pussy and you finally relaxed, reaching for your orgasm and letting the stream hit Javier. 

You had only blurs of him waiting for your sweetness, you couldn't keep your eyes open, but Javi stood right there loving to get your load all over his face. 

You felt like you were melting in a puddle of pleasure, feeling tired and a little sore and yet, Javi climbed on top of you, his face wet with your juices as he kissed you and got his cock inside of you again

"Come on cariño, let's make our baby Peña" he whispered into your ear.

 •••

You giggled as you entered the kitchen, Javi was right behind you, hands around your waist, squeezing you and making you giggle as the two of you had dripping hair and the clothes still hanging tight to your bodies, as you exited the shower not more than minutes before. You should have made lunch at least an hour before, knowing Chucho would come from church hungry and you and Javi could also eat after spending a lot of energy in bed, but the way he couldn't keep his hands off you, really jeopardized the other activities in the house, and at the same time you sort of felt guilty about it, you couldn't resist when it came to Javier Peña. He was your addiction, you just needed and craved him at every hour of your day, the weeks you'd spent apart you thought you were going crazy without him by your side, so now that you could spend a lifetime with him, you definitely didn't want to let it go. As you got into the kitchen, you stopped dead on tracks 

"Mom?!" You nearly shouted, eyes widening as you saw how your mother stood up next to Chucho, who had his hands on his waist - a classic Javier pose and you knew where he got that from, you could chuckle to yourself at that new piece of information on your fiance, if it weren't for the unnerving feeling your mom was giving you. The way she looked around displeased with everything and everyone. How she eyed Javier up and down and couldn't show the slightest smile or any traces of sympathy. "W-what are you doing here?" It was all you could ask her, watching as she shook her head and scoffed

"What exactly did you expect? You simply write me a letter saying you quit your job and that you were going to get married and live in this place?" She looked around "I needed to see with my own eyes, and yes, Y/N, you are indeed out of your mind!"

"I'm not. I'm marrying Javier and I'm staying in Laredo, because Javi and Don Chucho took me in and treat me like family. I don't care what you say, mom, I'm staying" you said and frowned "how did you even get in here?" And it was Chucho's turn to clear his throat and add his own version to the conversation

"I found the lady looking for information downtown, she wanted to know where our ranch was so I offered a ride" 

Javier saw how tense you got and tried using his charms to soothe your mom, maybe all she needed was some flattering, just to get to know him, not many women could resists Javier's sweet brown eyes, his beautiful smile and his polite manners, but the moment he tried greeting him properly your mom made everything at her power to keep him away, not hiding the disdain for him, which immediately made you angry and guilty, to have your uninvited mom treating like shit the people who loved and treated you like family.

Everyone could feel the tension in that kitchen and yet it was a mystery how things would be solved. Luckily to you, Chucho offered to take all of you out for lunch at a nice restaurant, then he suggested you should take your mom to some shops and other sights of Laredo, and though you were thankful for that, you felt really upset to know she was there only with one mission: make you give up on your wedding. 

You spent the rest of the day in a thick tension, you and your mom chatted briefly about family, work, and one could see and think it was just an ordinary case of mom and daughter catching up on the news, but you knew there was more to it. Luckily, Chucho's suggestion worked and she was easily distracted during the day, getting to know the city and going to bed early, being tired because of her trip. Javi also noticed everything and though he hadn't questioned you through the day you knew you would have a conversation about it. For all the time you've known each other, you barely spoke about your family, all you told him was that you had a complicated relationship with your mother and that they used to really like your former fiance, so when he left you, it all came out as a shock. You two hadn't discussed a guest list because after a whole week of trying to plan the details, you had decided to have a courthouse wedding. Not really you took that decision, but rather Javier and Chucho did. You realized the two of them were terrified of another scandal concerning that matter and even if you reassured Javier you trusted him and knew things would be different this time, he still thought it was safer to go with his dad's idea. You did feel disappointed, you'd already envisioned marrying Javier in a simple, but beautiful party, you had dreamed about inviting Murphy, Connie and your other friends, your family of course, not everybody, but the ones you were the closest to, and yet, you ended up agreeing to just signing the papers and carrying on with your day. A party didn't matter that much, but you would like to celebrate it, to put on a nice beautiful dress and show that whole town that yes, you and Javier loved each other and you would work out, despite every mean thing that'd been said and spread by those people. Your mom also agreed on having a discrete, small wedding, but it puzzled her to know why everyone seemed to be insisting on it, you could tell she was suspicious of something but you didn't feel like telling her everything that happened between Javier and his first bride, it would only bring all of you chaos and arguments. 

When you got in your bedroom later that night, you had hopes Javi was already asleep, you didn't quite know what to expect, of course he was an intelligent and observing man and he definitely understood from the very beginning you mom already hated him. You didn't know if it bothered Javi or not, but it probably did a little, no one liked to be hated by someone else and especially not without a good reason. You closed the door quietly, seeing Javi was lying in bed and smiled relieved, though he immediately raised his head from his pillow and immediately turned towards you 

"Cariño?" He called you and you bit your lips "we need to talk" he told you and beckoned, watching as you walked towards the edge of the bed and couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled you by your arm, making you lose balance and fall on top of him. You watched Javier closely, taking in how handsome he was, your heart not taking it as you admired his side profile and gently you traced the shape of his nose with the tip of your fingers, smiling at him, though you could see his expression was serious. 

"Your mom doesn't want us to get married, does she?" He sighed as you nodded. "why? Does she know about Lorraine?" You shook your head shyly "I need you to use your words, cariño… come on" he whispered against your ear as if he was seducing you, like he often did. 

"She doesn't, Javi… I haven't told my mom a lot of things, I haven't even called her, I wrote her a letter, hoping we would've been married by the time she got it. It felt weird not to tell her, but I knew she would have this reaction. She didn't like to know I was in love with you when I first got to Colombia and she definitely doesn't like our lifestyle, you know like the ranch and other things like this…" you said ashamed and looked down "I am not happy with her visit Javi, and I pissed off at how she got here and she thinks she's the queen of the world" you confessed and Javi straightened up his posture, rubbing his forehead and sighing "if she stays here for a long time, she will eventually find out about the gossip… maybe we should just go to the courthouse tomorrow, sign the papers and get this thing over with" he suggested and you couldn't help but feel disappointed, your wedding was now 'this thing'?! You shook your head 

"Javi, do you really wanna marry me?" You asked worriedly and watched as he sighed again "I don't wanna be annoying and insecure, that's just not us… but we went from leaving Colombia and getting married, having a beautiful party, wearing a wedding dress for you, and then we just thought of a courthouse wedding and now you tell me we should do it tomorrow, just to get this thing over with?" 

Javi held your face between his big hands and stroked your cheek gently, leaning in and pecked your lips, before getting off bed and getting on his knees in front of you. He took your hand, caressing it and watching his mom's ring "you're completely right, hermosa. I'm sorry if I made you feel like that, of course I still wanna marry you. I was worried you wouldn't want it after your mom arrived" he sighed "I don't want you to be upset… I want you to go out tomorrow and get yourself a pretty wedding dress, the most beautiful one you can find… I want you to be even more gorgeous to me, and once you get your dress we will figure something out, okay? Something that won't be as impersonal as a courthouse wedding… I just want you to be my wife, I want to have baby with you some day, mi amor" he said, giving you his sweet eyes, and leaning towards your touch as you caressed his cheek. 

     ••• 

"You know mom, you didn't really need to come here with me, it's a simple task… I'll pick a dress I like and buy it" you said as the two of you walked into the wedding dress store, the only one in Laredo and that you were sure you wouldn't really like the options, judging by what you'd seen in the window at least. You mom just rolled her eyes and scoffed

"You are already marrying this… man" she said "the least I can do for you is to help you pick up a decent wedding dress, knowing your taste it will definitely be a nightmare, Y/N" you gritted your teeth and before you could say anything else, a smiling girl came towards you, introducing herself as the clerk and dragging you over to the wedding dresses section. No matter how many times you'd said you were looking for a simple model, something comfortable and pretty, all she did was show you layers and layers of white, flamboyant lace, gigantic veils and your heart clenched to see you were having a hard time to even pick a dress, maybe it was all a sign? No, you shook that thought away, you and Javi were meant to be together, and no matter what was going on, you two would get married. 

When you finally spotted a simple, sleeveless white dress, you sighed relieved. You didn't like it very much, but it fit better the kind of party - if you were having a party at all - than the other options and you insisted on trying it on, despite the comments coming from both your mom and the clerk, who stated the dress was too plain and too simple. You felt your blood boiling, but you didn't say anything at all, it was bad enough you and Javi were the constant subject of gossip around town, and you figured a public argument with your mom wouldn't favor either of you, so you forced yourself to suck it up and get inside the fitting room. 

The clerk smiled at your mom trying to make small talk "so… ma'am, your daughter is marrying Javier Peña… he's kind of a big deal here in Laredo, everybody knows him, he's more of a lição hero, and it's cool that his first bride bought her dress here, and now his second bride is doing the same, hopefully she'll be luckier than Lorraine" the young girl shrugged, trying to sound innocent but also looking for some juicy details she could spread on with her co-workers later. 

Your mom's eyes snapped at the girl's words and she didn't stop inquiring until your mom got the full, whole story. And boy, she wasn't happy about it. 

You watched yourself in the mirror, you hated the dress. Maybe not the dress, but you were hating that experience, that tension and the stress. You hated that store, you hated that sales clerk who always whispered when she saw you and Javi passing by. There was nothing you wanted more than to marry Javi, and he had been clear about wanting to marry you too, but it felt like things weren't collaborating. Not even a dress you could find, and it made you anxious. As you undressed, you couldn't help but stare at your stomach, picturing if you'd look too different with a pregnant bump. You knew getting pregnant was just a matter of time and quite honestly you were a bit surprised it hadn't happened yet, with the amount of times Javi finished inside of you. Still, it didn't feel like the right moment just yet, but when it did, you'd be very happy to have baby Peña inside. 

You knew it was time to get rid of that horrible dress and head home, but you didn't think your mom would be waiting for you at the door, her face seemed to have been replaced with a mask of anger which puzzled you until you all got to the ranch. 

Chucho and Javi were at the table having some coffee and a slice of cake when they heard the commotion of the two women barging in. Your voices were loud but muffled and though it was obvious you and your mother were having an argument, they still couldn't exactly understand what you two were quarreling about. Both men got up and walked to the door, getting to the living room where you were already crying and your mom made sure to tell you horrible words, wanting to express her point of view which she considered to be the only right way to see things. 

Javier didn't like that distress, he knew you were out to see your wedding dress, it was supposed to be a nice day for a woman, and he didn't need to be a genius to see whatever happened ruined it for you. His first reaction was to wrap his arms around your body and pull you closer, kissing the top of your head and stroking your cheek "shh calm down, cariño… what happened?" He asked worried but your mom immediately walked to him 

"You happened!!!" She yelled "you happened to disgrace my daughter's life, Javier! How can she marry someone like you? You cannot even be called a man! You're a coward, a disgusting person!!! And my daughter is the stupidest woman in the world!!! She was humiliated by a man like you, but she seems to like your type because she is willing to make the same mistake for the second time now!!!" Your mom yelled feeling so angry and wanting to inflict as much pain as she could "and even if you don't abandon her at the altar, Mr. Peña… what do you have to offer her? This house? A life on the farm? Taking care of kids and animals? Until what? She gets too unattractive to you and you start chasing down girls half your age?" 

"ENOUGH!!!" you finally roared, being fed up with that scene, that horrid act of cruelty "enough!!! You have no right to say those things, mom!!! You weren't invited here, you weren't even invited to the wedding, I just told you I would be getting married to Javi, well, now I don't even know if there will be a wedding, but you are no one to tell me what to do or what not to do!!! I love Javi and I want this life, we both do! I trust him, I wanna be his wife, be the mother of his children and if you don't like it, just go away!!! I'm not asking for permission or your approval!" You finally said and gently got rid of Javi's arms, not wanting to be there any longer. 

You ran out the door and went for the green fields, the ones you often made love with him and walked until you were far away from the house, from that ranch that despite the large size, made you feel suffocated. You and sat down on the grass and allowed yourself to shed your tears, letting all the hurt out of your chest as you felt so upset at everything that was happening. Your mom had no right to try to ruin everything for you, you were supposed to be living the best of your relationship with Javi and not having everything spoiled by anyone just because they thought it was fun to comment on your life.

You hung your head low and sighed, trying to find some inner peace. 

Some time later, Javi watched you from afar as he squinted his eyes because of the sun and placed his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath and walked towards you, climbing the small hill you sat yourself on and reaching you.

"Hey" he said licking his bottom lip "your mom packed her things and decided to fly back home, dad just took her to the airport…" he said carefully and watched as you nodded, your eyes still red and puffy. It simply broke his heart.

"J-Javi I'm so sorry about what she said… about everything, this scene, this argument, about the things I've told you… I'm just so tired of this, of having to step on eggshells all the time when we are out because people gossip about us, it's not fair we have to give up our wedding, our celebration of a new start because of a bunch of dicks around here… all the gossip was funny at first, but now's just tiring. I'm tired of having people telling me you're going to abandon me or you're going to cheat on me, because you're not" you held Javier's face between your hands and stared into his eyes "I know you'll never do this, we both know it" you sniffed sadly as Javi gently wiped the tears that insisted on falling down. 

"You're totally right, cariño… I'm tired of that too, I understand if you don't wanna marry me or if you don't wanna live in Laredo with me, but I thought of a solution to show these fucking hillbillies how we're meant to be for real: I want to have a big ranch wedding, it can be here, in the fields… we get a priest or whatever to bless our ceremony, we have a big party so we can show everyone how we are getting married for real, the whole town as a witness to our love, so they'll shut up about it. You can get your wedding dress handmade with the seamstress who lives a couple of miles away…" he suggested it, his heart hammering his ribcage as he watched you closely. "What do you say, mi amor? Will you still marry me?" 

And then Javi stared at you with his stupid, deep brown eyes, you could tell at that moment he would do anything for you and your heart clenched at how much you loved him, it just ran through your body, your veins, your pores. You loved Javier with your whole heart and soul and it was obvious you would still marry him.

_____

A/N: I hope you guys liked it 😭