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threeacttragedy · 1 day ago

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Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake. So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only

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hatreds-og-imagedescriptions · 3 days ago

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[ID: a series of tweets by sandbox @tidallicit and al 💕 @yspertine.

ID1: sandbox @tidallicit:

"tw / animal cruelty

moots u have 24 hours to unfollow". There are two attached images, which are the next two images in the post:

ID2: al 💕 @yspertine: "barbecuing today 💓"

sandbox @tidallicit: "i wish more people were vegan these days"

al 💕 @yspertine: "i really didn't ask for the opinion of a bitch named sandbox 😭"

sandbox @tidallicit: "huh? what i said was just a joke. 'sandbox' was the name of my old guinea pig. they unfortunately passed away in late 2020. i coined the name on twitter because i miss him everyday, and thought i could honour his legacy on twitter?"

"not sure if you're trolling or joking but this is super insensitive to me and brings back a bunch of horrible memories, especially during that awful pandemic. please think about what you say because i feel like shit now."

ID3: "i also don't think it's fair that you're talking to me in such a rude tone, when you're the one who's just been offensive. can u just apologise and sb me or something because i don't wanna interact anymore, thanks."

"i miss him everyday, and he means so much to me. "

al 💕 @yspertine: "and i'll cook him too".

ID4: tumblr comment by myrdin92: "Remember that a good chunk of the entire internet is fake, so that might not be a real person, but a Russian who wants you to be negative against vegans by being weird enough to be shared 🤷‍♂️".

ID5: tags say: "#laugh rule #sigh #we are grown in labs with a sole purpose to torment americans on the internet". End of ID.]

i love twitter i love twitter i love twitter

#described #tumblr text

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xenodelic · 2 days ago

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Someone came onto one of my posts and started saying stuff like "real animals can't talk / post on tumblr / whatever". Typically anti-otherkin stuff. I looked at their blog briefly, expecting a typical troll. But instead I found, a legitimate blog, of a vaguely left leaning person. They were reblogging stuff about ableism, and trans rights, and children's lack of autonomy in our society.

And i just think, it kinda proves to me that a lot of self proclaimed leftists and progressives don't actually have any sort of core values that drive their political views. Because someone who is against ableism and transphobia and removal of autonomy, sounds like someone who has the core value of accepting people for who they are, no matter how unusual it may seem.

But, clearly, they don't. Because they were going out of their way to bully nonhumans for our identities, and trying to rhetorically argue us out of existence. We don't fit their understanding of the world, so they felt compelled to make rude comments. This person does not actually align themselves to any core values of respect and tolerance, they've just decided that they know which groups deserve it and which don't. And furthermore, upon deciding we don't deserve it, that they're entitled to bully us (presumably until we agree to conform)!

Which is, fundamentally no different than right wing politics. They've also decided they know which groups deserve acceptance, their pool is just narrower than the average leftist.

This is all to say, that it's very important for us all to examine what our core values are and why. Why do we tolerate certain groups of people, and not others? Why is it important to be inclusive, and to not bully people? How do I respond when I encounter someone I don't understand, or someone that makes me viscerally uncomfortable? Can rights be revoked? What rights are unalienable and why?

Having a core set of values to guide you will help you not make a fool out of yourself when you encounter someone or something that don't fit your current understanding of the world. If you encounter something that doesn't fit your understanding, then it's your understanding that should change.

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erinwantstowrite · 3 days ago

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the duality of comments i get gives me whiplash sometimes. cause i'll get a really nice very sweet comment from people, then i'll get needless feedback that is like. if i wanted you to critique my work i would have asked for that. and then i'll get a comment like "you should kill yourself" and i'm just like. if i wasnt an adult and/or wasn't in a good headspace can you imagine the repercussions that would have. if i had gotten these types of comments when i was a teenager i don't think i would be writing right now. people get real brave when they think things are anonymous. anyways you don't know what people are going through and maybe, just maybe, think before you make a mean comment or critique without permission. if you're leaving any other kind of comment then you're already doing 10x better than that and making someone's day

#ive gotten a decline on comments since i started this Tumblr #which doesn't bother me #but it does mean that it's more common to see hate comments in my ao3 inbox than any other comment #and THAT bothers me #cause i don't want to start associating ao3 with hate comments and bad vibes #i love writing and posting and i won't be stopping but it does make me ://#cause I'm writing lof for free #i spend my time and effort on this because i like it #and if you don't want to read... then dont...#erinwantstowrite #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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swappermanent · 2 days ago

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Gym Crush (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.

It’s been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about how crazy it all was. You might be wondering—why would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.

Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I did—hours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasn’t just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.

But even with all of that—being hot, dating a hunk like Edgar—I just couldn’t do it anymore.

You’re probably thinking I’m nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar don’t come around often, especially not for guys like me. Let’s be real, most dudes who look like him wouldn’t even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I should’ve been happy, but the truth is... I wasn’t.

Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, I’ve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. That’s just not who I am.

I know, I know—saying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. I’m not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; it’s just... that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.

And it’s not just about who I’m attracted to—it’s about me, too. My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I’m man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.

Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? That’s why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.

Don’t get me wrong—there were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys would’ve killed to look like I did, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t feel like me. I didn’t just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.

And Edgar... he didn’t see me that way. Sure, he’d call me hot, touch me like he couldn’t get enough, but then he’d taunt me. He’d weaponize my body. Every time he called me “pussy boy” or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He might’ve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldn’t take it anymore.

Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe he’d see me differently, respect me more. He didn’t. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.

And of course, that’s when things really fell apart. Edgar doesn’t do well with rejection—big shocker, right? So yeah, I wasn’t exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on responding. I’d already been down that road, and I’d told myself after the last time—no more.

Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldn’t help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.

The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I should’ve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.

His eyes were nice, though—kind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6 inches. That alone had my interest. But let’s not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? My own cock. I’d spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kid’s body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.

I could be the top I’d always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioning—just me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.

Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.

So I said yes.

I’m not gonna lie—the first year in this body wasn’t easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s work ethic. Between that and this body’s naturally high testosterone—and okay, yeah, I might’ve dipped into some steroids here and there—I’d say I built myself up pretty damn good.

Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesn’t seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They don’t just want my advice—they want to look like me. I’m walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least that’s how they see it.

And man, the way people treat me now? Everyone’s calling me “bro” or “dude” every other sentence. Not that they didn’t before—I’ve always leaned into that vibe—but there’s something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe it’s the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. It’s like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.

And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, it’s gotten around.

I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.They’ll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?

#Matt Gaine

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the-flaneur · 2 days ago

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the enemy of my friend is my enemy, but he's also his own worst enemy? so he's my friend? (nr6) | pt3

pairing: nico rosberg x hamilton!reader [smau]

summary: in an attempt to plan a surprise birthday party for your brother's 39th birthday, you enlist the help of his ex-??? to get into his apartment

warnings: none (i think)

[prev] [masterlist] [requests]

-> twitter

-> messages

-> instagram

lewishamilton

liked by fencer, charles_leclerc, roscoelovescoco and others

lewishamilton Excited to be back home for New Year's. Here's to an amazing 2024!

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user1 LOOKING GOOD SIRRRRRR 😩😩😩

user2 i usually hate manspreading, but the way this man does it is sooooooo sexy user3 literalllyyyyy it's the see through shirt that does it for me though user4 can't wait to see him without his braids, they're the only thing that get me through the winter break 😭😭😭

user5 UGH HOW DOES MONACO HAVE SUCH GOOD WEATHER IN LIKE THE MIDDLE OF WINTER, BRO'S IN A SHORT SLEEVE SHIRT

fencer can't wait to see you brother 💪

user6 yooooo birthday bash hints??? user7 i mean his birthday is pretty soon....maybe we'll see another bro pic hahahaha

user8 happy new years eve from london ❤️

charles_leclerc when are you going to finally invite me out on a yacht trip ☹️

user9 LOL CHARLES ARENT U LITERALLY MONEGASQUE AND RICH - GET UR OWN YACHT 🤣🤣🤣 user10 bro just wants to hang out with the goat

user11 ya'll anyone else catch on y/n's absent comment??? girlie is usually on top with responding to her brother's posts...

user12 yk she doesn't always have to respond right, like she could just be with lewis, or you know...being her own person user13 lmfaooo so real @/user12 user14 but like she's not even given it a like? i wonder where she is... LIKED BY lewishamilton

user15 hopefully mercedes have their car back on track this year, we NEED to see this man win a race 🙌🙌🙌

user16 CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT INSTA POST!!! BIRTHDAY TIMEEEEEE

f1gossipofficial

liked by user17, user18, user19 and others

f1gossipofficial well well well it looks like an old romance may have been rekindled just before new years!

y/n hamilton and nico rosberg have been seen arguing in y/n's ferrari daytona sp3 in monaco, before engaging in a heated makeout session. are we going to see our first new (honorary) wag of 2024?

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user20 OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user20 WE ARE SO BACK GUYS

user21 HOLY SHIT MOTHER AND FATHER ARE BACK TOGETHER TRULY MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user22 someone gotta call the ambulance for lewis, he's about to get the biggest heart attack of his life

user23 cant believe their relationship has literally been strangers -> friends -> secret lovers -> enemies -> friends? -> lovers????

user24 that's why they're ICONS 💪💪💪 user25 istg if they go back to being enemies after all this crapshow they've put us through... user26 i think max would rather just shove them in a hotlap with him around spa and then lock them together in a room then face them being enemies again

user27 YA'LL ARE MISSING THE POINT AGAIN, THEY'VE PROBABLY BEEN TOGETHER SINCE BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR

user28 RIGHTTTT 🤨 like are people seriously think they havent contacted each other before this lol user29 nah i think this is legit their first interaction in like eight years - welp didn't take them that long to get BACK together

user30 do you guys need a third??? asking for a friend

user31 bros are not subtle at all 😭 making out in such a recognisable car and city where everyone knows who tf they are 😭😭😭

user32 i forgot how good they look together 😍

user33 watch their kids be pretty as f too

user34 well looks like both hamiltons like rosberg, wonder if thats definitely not at all caused any arguments 😒

user35 well you defs werent around for the great hamilton twitter discourse of 2014... user36 oh yeah forgot about that user37 🤨 someone wanna tell me what that is?

user38 CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO ACTUALLY FINALLY POST EACH OTHER AFTER EIGHT YEARS

user39 i missed the anniversary posts so bad 😍 user40 their cute little dates healed something in me

-> messages

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enemy or friend (this) series taglist (comment or msg me to join)

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#⭑ : my work.ᐟ #the-flaneur #smau #x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 smau #nico rosberg fanfic #nico rosberg imagine #nico rosberg smau #nico rosberg fluff #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x you

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rootedinrevisions · 17 hours ago

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No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished.

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself.

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine.

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself.

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race.

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

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journalofimprobablethings · 2 hours ago

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I think the thing about your first response that is provoking knee-jerk reactions (at least, it did for me) is that it implies that character death's only purpose in fiction is to "maximize pain" for the readers, and that any other purpose it might serve can be found through other means. And I don't think that's true at all.

To a certain extent I agree with the OP commenter that it's not necessary to kill a character simply for 'emotional impact' or 'realism'. If an author's main goal with a character death is just to "inflict maximum pain" on the reader, then that's probably not very good writing, and not "necessary". The death needs to do more than just hurt the reader; it should affect the story in some way, either in how other characters react to the death, or how events change because of it.

But I also agree with friskdaferret's argument that some character deaths are necessary for the story that the author is trying to tell. That's the key. Could they choose to write it a different way? Sure. They're the author, it's their story, it's all made up. But then it would be a different story.

I know that you consider the Holes argument to be a bit of a tangent, but for the sake of using an example that's already been brought up, Sam's death in Holes serves a particular purpose in the story. It reflects real-world racism in a very direct way: black men being lynched for having a relationship with a white woman (or after being accused of assaulting/touching a white woman, whether they did or not) is a real fact of American history. It's an ugly fact, and it's something that Louis Sacher decided was important to include in the story. For some kids reading that book, it may even have been their first exposure to that sort of racism. Having Sam leave Kate for other reasons, as you suggest, would change the story, and would make a different point. It's not the story Louis Sacher was trying to tell.

Your argument, if I understand correctly, is that sometimes, the potential pain inflicted on a reader who is very attached to the character might outweigh an author wanting to make a particular point or tell a particular story. How then, do we handle telling stories that are inherently about painful topics? What is the "utilitarian calculus" as it relates to a story like Orpheus and Eurydice which is about grief; or tragedies like Hamlet?

I also think that if you're going to make that argument, you have to consider the other side - that is, what benefit do those deaths, as written, bring to readers? Why has the author included it in the story? What do people get out of it? That answer is going to be different for different readers and stories, but there is a reason that death has been such a prominent trope in human storytelling since forever. Death and grief are inherent, immutable facts of life, and so storytellers are going to find ways to engage with and examine it.

Two examples that came to mind while I was thinking about this post were The Fault in Our Stars by John Green and Babel by R.F. Kuang. Both of those books contain absolutely devastating moments of loss in connection with characters we have become very close to as readers. I don't think I've ever cried as hard at a story as I cried at those two books in particular.

Both of those stories would not be what they are, or say what they wanted to say, if those deaths didn't happen. They are a book about cancer and a book about imperialism and the violence it engenders, respectively. Both those topics are impossible to handle without at least talking about death.

Now, would I give people a warning before I recommend those books to them? Absolutely, because it's the sort of thing you probably want to be in the right headspace for. But do I think that those books should have been written differently, just because the stories were painful? Absolutely not.

I don't know that I agree with any sort of utilitarian argument about the potential effect of a character death on readers vs its function in the story, in part because that sort of thing is impossible to quantify. How would you ever possibly judge what was "too much"? It's entirely subjective, and in the end, authors do not have control over what a reader's reactions to their story will be.

I also think that to a certain extent, readers are responsible for their own reading experience. If a person does not want to encounter painful moments in their reading, that is their responsibility to tailor their reading accordingly. If they as a reader know they are prone to making deep connections with characters such that it might genuinely hurt them if that character then dies, they can take steps to avoid those sorts of stories, or to use sites like doesthedogdie.com to check whether a story has something that they don't want to/can't engage with. But it's not an author's responsibility to tailor their story so that it doesn't make anyone sad. That's not the point of fiction.

Fiction is a reflection of life, and a way for us as humans to examine and process all aspects of it, including the aspects that hurt, that are awful, the parts that don't make sense. It's perfectly valid for someone to not want to engage with challenging fiction, but to say that authors shouldn't be writing it at all because it might somewhere cause someone grief? I can't agree with that.

im starting to think you guys dont like it when stories make you feel things

#literature #philosophy #my thoughts went a lot of different directions with this so i apologize if this is a little scattered #but basically death isn't going anywhere and so stories where death occurs are not going anywhere #i do think character deaths need to be earned #but killing a character is not inherently bad

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felassan · 1 day ago

Text

David Gaider on Morrigan, under a cut for length:

"Morrigan began, waaaay back, as a bit of Morgan le Fey (hence the Dark Ritual) mixed with Delirium from Sandman. The Delirium elements subsided into more of a weird cadence of speech as my idea of Morrigan solidified - more cynical, wanting to connect but unable to. Originally, we were looking for a Middle Eastern actress to play her, as Shoreh Aghdashloo was slated to play Flemeth and we wanted a similar sounding voice -- but it was a real struggle, and then Shoreh unfortunately had to drop out to do a movie. So suddenly we had nobody for either character! Then, one day, Caroline (our VO Director) comes in with a recording sent by a rep for Claudia Black - who hadn't done game VO back then but wanted to get into it. And it was Claudia doing a slow *beat poet* rendition of Baby Got Back. I kid you not. I was already a fan, so I lost my goddamn mind. (Yes, I still have the recording. No, you cannot have it.) Naturally, we jumped on that immediately. As I recall, this was met with resistance from higher up - they had this image of Morrigan as young, like 18 years old (no idea where this came from) and complained that Claudia sounded "too old". Them: "She sounds like she smokes three packs a day!" Me: "That's what I like about her!" Caroline and I were determined, so we pushed ahead. We had to agree to get Claudia to sound "younger", which I was dubious about. The first two sessions we asked her to pitch her voice up and it was AWFUL. Claudia had to focus on sounding "right" instead of acting. So Caroline and I did the sneaky thing, and on the third session we asked her to just... act. Use her natural voice. We loved her performance so much we had the feeling that the team would love it too and forget their nonsense. They did. My best memory of Claudia was when we first met. I'd been flown down to LA for the initial sessions to help the major DAO actors find the character "voice" and, boy, was I nervous. It didn't help that I was a huge fanboy of Claudia's and she was going to be the *first* of all the actors I'd talk to. Caroline gave me a list of rules for "how to talk to a celebrity" - top of the list: DO NOT COMPARE THEM TO OTHER ACTORS. So I meet Claudia, and I'm sweating. I think: I'll start from the beginning, right? "Well, when I started writing Morrigan, the voice in my head was Helena Bonham Carter..." Claudia gives me a look and tilts her head. "So what you're saying is... I'm a very cheap version of Helena Bonham Carter." I'm mortified. I melt. I gasp and stutter and she lets me implode for maybe 30 seconds before she throws her head back and LAUGHS. So wicked. I love her instantly and forever. For the next several days, whenever she's in the booth and I make a comment to Caroline - which she can't hear, because the booth is sound-proof - she'd say "Oh, does he want it more like Helena?" And I'd melt into the desk in renewed mortification and she'd LAUGH. This is Claudia in a nutshell. Morrigan became a real touchstone for me, the heart of DAO. Way beyond her initial inspirations. Some said "she's just an ice queen" like some I'd written (Viconia, Bastila, etc.) but such categories are very reductive, I find. She had a voice I could instantly slip into, every time, without fail. The problem, after DAO was said and done, was with how we were going to honour the Dark Ritual going forward... or, more to the point, how we *weren't* going to honour it. I wasn't willing to let her go, however, so I had to figure it out. BUT... that's a story for another day. CORRECTION: A friend reminds me that the beat poet recording Claudia did was "Smack That" and NOT "Baby Got Back", and now I need to go give it another listen just because I can."

[source thread]

David Gaider: "Actually, when Shoreh's movie wrapped she came back and asked if the role was still available - her grandkids were VERY excited for her to be in a game. It wasn't, but as I recall Caroline was all "well, we have this role in ANOTHER game we're making..." Hence why she ended up in ME2." [source]

David Gaider: "Tali's accent was purely created by the actress - which made it a bit of an Issue when the time came to have more Quarians in ME2. "Do we get the actors to all try and mimic... whatever she's doing?" I'm certain Caroline could write a book about how THAT all went down." [source]

User: "I also never knew that Delerium was part of the inspiration for her (atleast in the beginning)." David Gaider: "It'd be difficult to see that now. The very first drafts were a lot more eccentric - more like Flemeth, I'd say, but times ten. The feedback I got was that she's a bit too LALALULU and I had to agree (and my idea of her was changing anyhow). So that slowly got weeded out." [source]

User: "What had you seen Claudia in that made you such a big fan already? (was it pitch black?)" David Gaider: "Originally? Farscape. Then Pitch Black, yes. I tried watching Stargate just for her, but coming in so late I kinda bounced off it." [source]

User: "My only complaint is, and has always been, why is she the straight romance when everything about her screams lesbian?" David Gaider: "I would have written it, if it’d been allowed (remember this was VERY new back then), but after all was said and done I’m kind of glad I didn’t. The friendship path I wrote for Morrigan with a female Warden is perhaps my favourite but of writing I did from back then." [source]

User: "Morrigant to me was such a fantastic character because of the way she sounded! Her introduction in DAO is iconic to me "Well, Well, what have we here?"" David Gaider: "You have NO IDEA how many takes that took. 😳" [source]

User: "Claudia Black did an amazing job with every line in every game." David Gaider: "She absolutely did. It took some time for her to get her bearings, but by the end of our first few sessions I actually went back and re-wrote a bunch of lines to match Claudia's voice. She informed so much of who Morrigan became." [source]

User: "are YOU the reason we see so much morrigan after dao? (positively, she is one of my all time favourite characters)" David Gaider: "Yes and no. She was always considered, by both me and the team, to be a "face" of Dragon Age. I'd have put her in DA2 if there'd been room, but thankfully that limitation is what allowed Flemeth to grow into her own." [source]

User: "were Morrigan and Flemeth always supposed to be Chasind, and/or did the Chasind have any ties to northern Thedas in earlier drafts of the character? The Chasind are universally depicted with dark skin except for Morrigan and Flemeth." David Gaider: "I don't think we had a very clear idea of the Chasind in general back then - they kind of got abandoned as a concept once we cut the Human Barbarian origin for DAO, and were only picked up again later." [source]

#dragon age #bioware #morrigan #queen of my heart #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect

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jensengirl83 · 2 days ago

Text

Pining In The Pines

Dean x reader

Word count-3843

Warnings- Angst, some fluff

Summary- Y/N and the boys have to go on a hunt in her old hometown. She's not happy to go home, and especially not when Dean makes a comment that brings up bad memories. How will she take it? And will Dean be able to make it right?

A/N- This fills my Secret Passageway square for @jacklesversebingo

First, I suck at summaries 😂 Second, this fic is a little self-indulgent. I've written it about where I'm actually from and the stigma about the people in this area. I really hope you like it!

“So, get this,” Sam started the conversation as he looked at his laptop.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest. It never failed. When he found a hunt, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘So, get this.’ That’s how she and Dean knew to stop and pay attention. He had something they needed to hear. So, she tried to contain her laughter and give Sam the attention he wanted.

“Y/N…Do you have to laugh every single time?” Sam groaned but didn’t wait for a response, continuing with what he wanted to say, “There’s supposedly been a Wendigo spotted in Morehead, Kentucky. Homeowners caught it on their security camera for their driveway.”

“Morehead…Isn’t that close to where you grew up, sweetheart?” Dean wondered, looking over at the huntress beside him.

“It’s a few counties over, but yeah, it’s close enough. Did you say there was footage?” she questioned, leaning forward to look at Sam’s laptop as he spun it around for her and Dean to see.

Her breath caught in her throat as Dean put his hand on her lower back as he leaned forward to watch the video. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen in love with the eldest Winchester. But how was she supposed to be around him, living in the bunker with him, and not fall head over heels?

It was true that he had a temper, could be a real grump, and be downright mean sometimes. But, over the years, she’d learned that his temper flared most when someone he cared about was in danger. He would be grumpy when the weight of the world had gotten almost too heavy to bear, and he tried to push it down and keep it bottled up. He was mean when he thought he needed to push someone he cared about away because he was the one putting them in danger. To her, that was just the sign of a man who had been hurt, a man who loved deeply, one who cared so much that the thought of losing someone he loved was unbearable. So, how was she not going to fall for him at some point?

But that’s as far as it went. She would never admit her feelings. She couldn’t. The likely rejection would be her end, and she would have to leave the bunker. She’d rather pine for him in tortuous silence than not have him in her life at all. So, as always, she shoved her feelings back down, focusing on the screen in front of her, and prepared for the hunt she knew was coming.

“Earth to Y/N,” Dean nudged her, clearly seeing she was in her own little world.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching,” she rolled her eyes, trying to hide that she was fantasizing about the green-eyed Adonis.

“Where was that pretty little head of yours?” he teased, his words making her heart ache. If only he really thought that way.

“Just thinking of what I’ll need to pack. ‘Cause we’re clearly going to Kentucky, am I right?” she lied, hoping they would buy it.

“Yeah, we have to check this out. I’ve never heard of a Wendigo this far east before,” Sam answered, getting Dean’s attention away from her. Thank Chuck.

“There’s a lot of things in the Appalachian mountains that no one knows about. Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in those woods alone after dark,” she shivered at the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark?” Dean tried to tease, but she gave him a stern look that made him think twice.

“You should know that I’m not scared of the dark. I follow you into some of the darkest, creepiest places on earth. But, I grew up there, Dean. It’s not even just the monsters you have to worry about. I mean, there are bears, mountain lions, wolves…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention some of the crazy people that live in those mountains.

“Okay, okay,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it.”

“You better. You have to keep your head on a swivel while we’re in the woods. I’d hate to have to save your sorry ass from the real-life Yogi Bear,” she winked, “Because your ass will be the picnic basket.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed at her sarcasm as Sam laughed. Even though she was crazy in love with him, she could give him shit right back. And to be honest, she thoroughly enjoyed frustrating him. As she saw it, it was payback for him making her love him in the first place. She continued to chuckle as she went to her room to pack. Y/N didn’t like the thought of going home. Too many memories she’d like to forget. But duty calls, so she was packing her bags for the long drive to southeast Kentucky.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I highly doubt there’s a Wendigo here. They don’t stay in the wide-open woods,” Dean complained while trekking through the mountains.

“Dean, do you not know anything about the topography of Kentucky?” Y/N asked, shaking her head in annoyance. He’d been in a mood all day.

“Yes, sweetheart. I spend all my free time studying the layout of a state I rarely ever visit,” his sarcasm made her want to smack him in the head.

“Well, dear,” she said just as sarcastically, “Kentucky is known for its underground cave systems. You know, Mammoth Cave. One of the biggest cave systems in the world…”

“Of course! Because spelunking is high on my to-do list!”

“Oh! Look at him, Sam. He’s using big boy words like spelunking. I’m so proud of you, Dean!” she half shouted at him. Trying to keep her voice down so as not to attract unwanted attention to whatever was out there.

“Guys! Knock it off. We’re here to kill a Wendigo. Not for you two to kill each other!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“She started it,” Dean whined, acting like a child.

“Fuck off, Dean,” she growled as she walked ahead of them. Leading them to the caves she knew were close.

Y/N ignored the bickering between the brothers behind her as she made her way through the trees. She loved Dean, but today, she thought about leaving him in one of the caves they found. He’d been an ass since they woke up at the motel, and she couldn’t figure out what had his boxers in a bunch. They’d had to share a bed, but she didn’t think he’d be that pissed about that, but she wouldn’t put anything past him at that point. But, whatever it was, it tempted her to make him Wendigo lunch.

“Slow down, Y/N. We’re not born and raised hillbillies like you are. It’s taking us a little longer to navigate this hellscape,” Dean yelled, grumbling under his breath about her getting too far ahead.

Y/N froze. That was the last straw. Yes, she’d been born and raised in the area, but that word…Hillbilly. She’d been trying to get rid of that stigma since she left the mountains, and now hearing Dean, the man she loved, call her that derogatory term was too much to take.

“Let me tell you something, asshole! Yeah, I grew up here, but I’m not a fucking hillbilly! I’ll have you know not everyone who lives in Appalachia are backwoods, uneducated, rednecks! So, take that term, and shove it straight up your ass!” she screamed, her anger boiling over into dangerous territory.

Before either of the boys could say a word, a guttural, terrifying growl tore through the darkening woods. Y/N spun around to see what they’d been there to find. The Wendgio was only about thirty feet behind her, moving in quickly. Sam shouted for her to get behind him, breaking her out of her stupor. Once she’d cleared his line of sight, Sam grabbed his homemade flamethrower, flicking his lighter to ignite it, but nothing happened. He tried again but to no avail. Y/N’s screams tore through the night air…

“Run! Follow me!”

The boys were quick at her heels as she weaved them in and out of the trees and underbrush. Dean couldn’t help but think about how impressed he was at her agility in that terrain. He could tell she’d grown up here and knew her way around, which brought him to his next thought. How guilty he felt for saying what he had. But now was not the time to apologize. Right now, he had to concentrate on not losing sight of her and getting shredded to pieces by the monster on their tails.

“Here! Guys, hurry!” she shouted, an old moonshining cabin in her sight.

Once she reached the cabin, she flung open the door, waiting for the boys to enter before slamming it shut, silently praying that the rickety lock would hold just long enough to devise a plan.

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean asked, hands on his knees as he panted for breath.

“I don’t know! The flamethrower has never not worked before,” Sam answered with the same labored breathing as his brother.

“Well, we can figure that out later. Now, we need to figure out how to stay alive!” Y/N yelled, panic starting to set in.

“Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll be okay,” Dean tried to calm her down, but she was still too angry with him.

“Don’t! Do not ‘sweetheart’ me! You had no right to talk to me like that!”

“Look, swe- Y/N, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why that made you so mad,” Dean spoke as he looked around the cabin for something to use as a makeshift weapon.

“That was a shit apology, Winchester. Just…just don’t speak to me until we get out of this mess,” she groaned, then mumbled, “If we live through this mess.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted, getting her attention, “We are getting out of this. Don’t talk like that.”

“Can you tell me how you plan to get us out of here? Cause I don’t see another way out except through the door that Wendigo is now trying to beat down!”

As she walked toward Dean, her foot almost went through the floor, or at least it felt like it. She stopped, pushing down with her foot one more time. The bounce under her foot had her laughing loudly, and the boys looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Dean spoke as she started to rip the rug she stood on out of the way.

“Care to tell us what you find so funny?”

“This!” she continued to laugh in relief as she pointed to the hatch in the floor where she’d been standing, “It’s our way out!”

“How do you know that? It could be just an old cellar,” Sam asked, walking over to inspect what she’d found.

“Well, as Dean so nicely put it, us hillbillies would dig secret passageways to transport the moonshine back and forth without the police seeing them. They almost always lead to an abandoned coal mine or cave opening. Sometimes other cabins.”

“Y/N, come on, I tried to apologize. I didn’t know it would upset you that much,” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Well, it did, and…” she started to argue when Sam interrupted them.

“Maybe you two can finish this fight once we know we’re not going to die? Let’s go!”

Y/N and Dean simultaneously rolled their eyes. Sam would have told them they were two peas in a pod if they weren’t in such a hurry to save their asses. Y/N was the first one down the ladder, explaining that she’d be their best bet for not getting completely lost underground, and neither brother disagreed. Dean followed, with Sam on his heels. Once they were underground, Y/N led the way, and the boys were impressed with how well she could get around in the tunnels.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean was going to ask if she really knew where she was going, but before he could open his mouth, they turned a corner and could see a light up ahead in the tunnel's ceiling. Y/N was climbing the ladder through another hatch before Dean knew what was happening. Maybe her nickname should be Squirrel instead of him, he chuckled to himself. As the last brother made it out of the tunnel and into another cabin, Y/N slammed the hatch, pushing an old, heavy piece of furniture over it. Luckily, this one was still quite furnished, with beds still in the bedrooms and an old couch in front of a fireplace.

“This is home until morning,” she stated, looking around, finding, albeit dusty, pillows and blankets in a closet.

“Better than nothing,” Sam shrugged, walking into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door, leaving only one bedroom for her and Dean.

“Looks like we’re sharing again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah, take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” she whispered, not looking at him. Damn, she was still mad.

“I’m not taking a bed and putting you on an old debilitated couch, Y/N.”

“It’s fine. My adrenaline is still too high to sleep. Besides, I’ll keep watch so you can get some rest. You have to drive us back to the bunker tomorrow. I can sleep in the car.”

“Y/N…”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. Please, just take the bed. I’m too tired to argue,” she almost begged, wanting to be alone.

“I thought you said you weren’t tired?” he smirked, trying to joke, but she wasn’t having it.

“I’m mentally exhausted. I just need time to myself to wind down. Now, please, go get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning,” she pleaded, the look on her face breaking his heart. He had really hurt her with what he said.

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night,” he said dejectedly, knowing it would be a sleepless night. His guilt would make sure of it.

“Night,” she replied, turning her back to him, sitting down on the couch, staring out the window, never glancing his way. The click of the door made her wince as Dean went to bed.

Sleepless night was an understatement. Dean’s eyes didn’t close once as he lay there thinking how wrong the day had gone. He and Y/N had argued since their feet hit the floor that morning. Him being an ass was the reason for it. He hated fighting with her, but when he woke that morning, she was curled up at his side, her head on his chest. Usually, a man wouldn't complain about having a beautiful woman wrapped around him, but it tends to put you in a pissy mood when it’s a woman you love but can’t have.

Dean was ass over tea kettle for Y/N, but he’d never tell her that. She deserved so much better than being saddled with a man who could barely stand his own company most days. He drank too much, and he wasn’t good at communicating how he felt. He knew that. Sam had told him many times he needed to learn to open up, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the shitshow that was his mind. Especially her. So, as with his other emotions, he pushed his love for her deep and tried to ignore it. Lately, that hadn’t been working so well. As he lay there telling himself all the reasons he couldn’t have her, a sound caught his attention. He tiptoed to the door, cracking it slowly, and what he saw had him rushing out the door.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he quizzed her as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. Her sobs were what he’d heard.

“I’m fine, Dean. Go back to bed,” she hiccuped through her tears. She couldn’t tell him the full truth.

“Obviously, you are the opposite of fine. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, placing her chin between his thumb and index finger to turn her face to him, “Is this about today?”

“Partially,” she admitted, trying to turn her head back to the window, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. I know I was being an ass, but I had no idea it would hurt your feelings like that. Can you explain to me why? I’m not trying to fight. I honestly don’t understand.”

“I’ve tried to get rid of the ‘hillbilly’ stigma since I left this place. It's always the same thing whenever someone finds out where I’m from. There’s this image people have about people from the Appalachian mountains that just aren’t true. We’re not a bunch of ignorant, uneducated people who live deep in the woods and never come out. Unfortunately, movies and TV shows have depicted us in such a bad light that most people think that’s all we are. And when that term comes from the man you…” she gasped, catching what she almost said. But Dean caught it as well.

“The man you what, Y/N?” he asked, holding his breath. Was she about to admit what he thought? Maybe, just maybe, he could try to be better, be the man she deserved if she loved him too.

“Dean…” she whimpered, trying to turn away from him again, but he wasn’t letting her go now.

“Uh uh, say it. Say it, Y/N,” he pleaded, his eyes staring into hers, “Were you going to say the man you loved?”

“Yes! Okay? I was going to say the man I loved!” she shouted in frustration as she jumped from the couch, finally breaking Dean’s hold on her, “Now, go ahead and tell me that you don’t see me that way, tell me that you don’t want me, so I can prepare to pack my shit and leave when we get back to the bunker. Because I can’t stay there and see you every day after your rejection. I just can’t.”

Dean stood and walked to her as she stood staring out the window, her back to him after her confession. He touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Her look of sadness and despair nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He thought having his heart literally ripped out would hurt less than seeing her like this. He slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. A tear trickled down her face as she closed her eyes at his touch, and he swiped it away with his thumb.

“Is that what you want me to tell you, or do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked softly, waiting for her to open her eyes, which didn’t take a split second. Her eyes went wide.

“What are you saying?” she uttered shakily.

“I’m saying that I love you, too, Y/N. I have for a long time.”

“But, but,” she stuttered, trying to find her words, “You were so mad at me when we woke up this morning. That isn’t how someone acts when they love the person in bed with them.”

“Sweetheart, I was mad because I opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen curled up against me, and all I could think was how I wanted it to mean something, and I didn’t think it ever would. If I’m being honest, you could do so much better. And thinking I’d never have you that way pissed me off because I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you, Y/N. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and I fall asleep picturing you beside me. I know I’m not a good man, and there’s someone out there that could and would give you more than I’ll ever be able to, but if you really love me, I’m going to be selfish for one time in my fucking life and ask you to give me a chance. I can guarantee that I’m going to piss you off and probably hurt your feelings again, but it will never be intentional. So, what do you say? You want to give us a shot?” He poured his heart out to her, leaning his forehead against hers as he waited for an answer.

“Dean, contrary to what you believe, you are a good man. You love with your whole being and fiercely protect those lucky enough to get that love. I know you don’t believe you deserve it, but you deserve the world, Dean Winchester, and I’d be honored to be the one to try and give it to you.”

“Really?” he asked with a million-watt smile, leaning back to look her in the eye.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she returned his smile, both sighing in relief.

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately.

The kiss was better than either had imagined, and they both poured the love they felt for the other into it. They stayed that way until the need to breathe became too much, pulling away with smiles. He pulled her into a hug, laying his head on top of hers. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Dean broke the silence.

“So, you want to move your stuff into my room when we get back?

“I don’t know, Dean,” she pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip, “I really think we need to take this as slowly as possible. Make sure that we’re going to last.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he agreed, his heart clenching at the hurt he felt.

“I’m just joking,” she laughed, poking him in the ribs, “You’re not going to get rid of me now!”

“Damn it, Y/N! That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, not finding her joke all that funny.

“I think I’m hilarious,” she smirked up at him.

“You’re something, alright. Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We have a lot of packing to do when we get home,” he suggested, leading her toward the bedroom, “You have a lot of shit. I don’t know where we’re going to put it all.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “Well, we could always get rid of your vinyl collection to make room.”

“Hey! Those are fighting words,” he growled playfully, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip.

“Bring it on, old man,” she cackled as his eyes shot up his forehead in shock.

“I’ll show you an old man!” he said in faux anger, chasing her into the bedroom.

All that could be heard as the bedroom door shut was the laughter and playful banter between the new couple, and that’s how it stayed for the years to come.

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dissapointu · 22 hours ago

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Okay, First of all I love your work!! Second of all could you write arcane characters where the reader has Ears and a tail? (similair to Lest)

Thats it thank you for all the drabbels🩷

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭💖 I LIVE FOR THESE KIND OF ASKS. You want Arcane characters reacting to an S/O with ears and a tail?? I got you babes!!

————————————————————————

Jinx

You’re sitting at her workbench, tail swishing back and forth while you read. Jinx is hanging upside down from the rafters (don’t ask), and her eyes zero in on your tail like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she says, dropping down so fast you almost jump. “Does it move when you’re happy? Ooooh, can I touch it? Pleaaaase?”

Before you can answer, she’s already running her fingers through it, cooing like she’s petting a cat.

“Aw, it’s so soft! You’re like my little fox!” She grabs her paint. “Stay still. I’m gonna make a matching tail for me—wait, does this mean we’re like a pack or something?”

The first time Vi notices your ears and tail, she just blinks and smirks. “Nice ears. They real?” She tugs lightly on one, and you swat her hand away with a huff.

“Okay, okay, chill,” she laughs, throwing her hands up. But you catch her watching your tail out of the corner of her eye, like she’s just waiting for it to wag.

Later, you’re lying in her lap, and she’s idly scratching behind your ears. You start purring (accidentally, okay??), and she grins down at you.

“Yeah, I’m never letting you live this down. My badass S/O’s a total softie.”

Sevika

Sevika pretends not to care. She just raises an eyebrow and goes, “Huh. That’s new.”

But then your tail brushes against her arm while you’re sitting together, and she flinches like it shocked her. “Damn thing’s alive?”

You roll your eyes, but when you try to move it away, she grabs it gently. “Relax. It’s… cute, I guess.” She won’t admit it, but she LOVES how soft it is. If you’re cuddling, she’ll run her fingers through your tail absentmindedly.

And if anyone says something about it? She’s cracking her knuckles, ready to throw hands.

Silco

Silco notices your ears and tail the second you walk into his office. He tilts his head, intrigued but not surprised. “Fascinating. Do they serve a purpose, or are they merely aesthetic?”

You sigh. “They’re part of me, Silco.”

He nods, like he just solved a puzzle, and his curiosity is OFF THE CHARTS. He’ll casually brush his hand against your tail when you’re sitting next to him, testing your reaction.

If he sees your ears twitch when you’re upset, his voice softens. “Your emotions betray you, my dear.” He uses your tail as a barometer for your mood and adjusts his approach accordingly.

Vander

Vander is SO GENTLE about it. When he first notices, he smiles and says, “Didn’t know I had a fox for a partner.”

He’s super respectful, though. He won’t touch your tail or ears unless you’re okay with it. But once you give him the green light? Oh, he’s ALL IN.

You’re curled up on the couch, and he’s got one hand buried in your tail while the other scratches behind your ears. “Y’know, these suit you,” he murmurs. “Beautiful, just like the rest of you.” (Cue blushing.)

Ekko

Ekko spots your tail swishing behind you, and his jaw DROPS. “Yo! How did I not notice this before?!”

He’s so hyped. He’ll jokingly mimic your tail with his scarf, wagging it like he’s part of your crew. “We’re matchin’ now, babe!”

If you’re sparring and your tail flicks, he’ll tease you about it. “What’s wrong, tail got nervous?” But if someone else makes a comment, he’s immediately defensive. “Back off. That tail’s cooler than you’ll ever be.”

Jayce

Jayce is trying SO HARD to be cool about it. He notices your ears twitch and goes, “Huh, that’s… interesting.” But he’s dying inside because he thinks you’re adorable.

The first time your tail brushes against him, he freezes. “Uh… do you, like, feel that? Is it… alive?” You laugh at his awkwardness, but he’s genuinely fascinated.

Later, he’s holding you in his arms, and your tail wraps around his waist. He melts. “Okay, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Viktor

Viktor is surprisingly composed when he notices your ears and tail. He leans forward, studying you like you’re a fascinating experiment. “Are these natural, or… enhanced?”

When he realizes they’re real, he’s super curious about how they work. “Do your ears have heightened sensitivity? Does your tail serve a practical function?”

If you’re working together and your tail accidentally brushes his hand, he’ll go quiet for a moment before saying, “It’s… quite soft.” And if you catch him smiling to himself later, you KNOW he secretly loves it.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn notices your ears twitch when she calls your name, and her first thought is, adorable.

She’s super polite about it, though. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… your ears and tail—are they natural?” When you nod, she smiles. “They’re lovely.”

She’s the type to gently stroke your tail when you’re cuddling, finding it soothing. And if anyone makes you feel self-conscious about them? She’ll shut them down with a cold, “I think they’re perfect. Don’t you?”

Mel Medarda

Mel’s first reaction is pure fascination. She runs her fingers along your ears and murmurs, “Exquisite. You’re truly one of a kind.”

She treats your tail like a luxury, stroking it gently when you’re lounging together. “I could get used to this,” she says with a sly smile.

Mel makes you feel like your ears and tail are the most beautiful things in the world. If anyone dares to insult them, she’ll give them a look so icy they’ll regret their existence.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s reaction is blunt but genuine. “That’s… different.”

She’s not the type to gush, but you’ll catch her glancing at your tail when she thinks you’re not looking. If it brushes against her, she’ll chuckle. “Careful, love. You’ll start a fight with that thing.”

Over time, she grows fond of it. When you’re resting your head on her shoulder, she’ll absentmindedly run her hand through your tail, a rare moment of softness from her.

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is FASCINATED. “My word! These ears and tail—how did they come to be?”

He’s asking a million questions, taking notes, and theorizing about the evolutionary advantages they provide. But he’s also super respectful and genuinely finds them beautiful.

If your ears twitch while he’s talking, he’ll pause and go, “Did I say something alarming?” When you explain it’s just a reflex, he chuckles. “Fascinating!”

Salo

Salo notices your tail and raises an eyebrow. “Interesting. I assume it’s functional?”

He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s intrigued. If your tail brushes against him, he’ll glance at it and go, “Careful where you’re aiming that.”

Over time, he becomes protective of it. If anyone tries to touch it without your permission, he’ll step in with a quiet but firm, “Don’t.”

Scar

Scar’s first reaction is to smirk and say, “That’s new. You hiding more surprises, or is this it?”

She’s lowkey obsessed, though. If your tail’s swishing, she’ll try to grab it just to tease you. “Gotcha!”

But if someone else tries to mess with it, her playful side vanishes. “Touch them again, and you’ll regret it.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie notices your tail wagging when you’re happy and GASPS. “Oh my gosh, that’s the CUTEST thing ever!”

She’ll gently ask if she can touch it, and when you let her, she’s all giggles and coos. “It’s so soft! You’re like a real-life plushie!”

She makes sure you never feel self-conscious about it and loves showing you off to her friends. “Isn’t S/O the most adorable thing ever? Look at their tail!”

Lest

Lest notices your ears and tail and immediately feels a sense of kinship. “So, we’re not so different after all,” she says with a smile.

She’s super gentle with your tail and ear like they are her own, since she has them she knows all the best spots to scratch and pet!

intertwines your tails together <3 like vines.

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