#this is me putting thoughts out to make sense

[allhopesforlove]

Farewell, my love: part 2

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, jealousy, and just more angst than before I’m sorry (not) :)

part 1

———————

He couldnt breathe. It was too much, too many feelings flooding him at once and it felt like little needles were prickling him all over his skin. It was getting hot and if he hadn’t been leaning on Elain he was sure that he would’ve actually fallen down on his knees. He was breathing faster and the constant flood of emotions and thoughts weren’t making this any better. He was scared. Scared to even think what this meant.

“Azriel, sweetheart, talk to me.. hey, hey look at me.”

But he couldn’t. He, he needed air. He needed space, because this didn’t make any sense. Why now? Why when he finally found the happiness he was looking for, for so many years? Why when he finally settled his heart for another and dared to bare his soul to her? Why now, when his fucking mate decided to take on something that’d cost her her life? Why was he put in a position where he couldn’t decide what and who to choose?

He still heard her heart, how it beat almost the same as his. Warmth spread around him and he looked up again to see the cause of all this turmoil inside of him. There, he saw her. His mate. His. Oh god, he had a mate. He felt tears already rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. Somehow, only looking at her already made him much calmer than before. She still looked at him with wide eyes as if she herself couldn’t believe what had just transpired between them and he couldn’t blame her, because neither did he. There was a sudden urge to just hold her and take away all her pain and-

“Azriel.”

He felt two soft hands cradling his face and turning it to the side to make his golden hazel eyes meet with brown ones. It caused him to break out of this bubble that was forming and he was brought back to reality. Elain, oh Elain. He- oh god- he really forgot about her for a second, because everything, well everything was so sudden and he actually didn’t mean to, because he loved Elain, with all his heart- his heart, he already gave it to her, he was hers as much as she was his- and he already felt another set of tears forming in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I want to help you, but you have to help me here a bit yeah?” She said while looking at him with soft shiny eyes and a small smile. The smile he fell in love with.

“Try to breathe along with me.” He was still shaking as Elain lead his hand towards her chest- her heart- to make him calm down and follow the same rhythm as hers. He tried to focus, he really did, but the constant flood of emotions really distracted him. So with all his strength he breathed in and out just as Elain did. He brought his forehead towards hers and closed his eyes. In. And out.

“Just like that, you are doing so great.” He felt a kiss on his nose and he had to smile at that. He was calming down a little.

“Thank you ‘lain” he rasped out.

And when he opened his eyes, Elain looked at him with such intensity that he needed a second to think. He really does love her huh. While the heartbeat of another was becoming more silent, it still was there. He took a deep breath and took the hands on his face in his own. Looking her in the eyes, he kissed the inner part of Elain’s hands and mustered up another set of words to reassure her.

“I am feeling better.” Elain smiled at that, however the confusion was still present in her eyes, and- oh god- she didn’t make this easier for him when she looked up at him with that soft gaze.

“Would you mind sharing with me what just happened?” She asked in an almost hushed tone, as if she didn’t want the other’s around them to know.

How was he supposed to explain to her what had just happened, when he himself still hadn’t any time to think. When so many thoughts were whirling around in his head and he couldn’t grasp to control them.

Elain must’ve noticed his confusion and hesitation as she reassured him.

“Its okay you can take your time. But you really got me scared here for a second Azriel and I, I just want to help you and know if you are-“ she choked on her last words and something in him felt so bad for not telling her instantly. For not choosing her instantly. For having thoughts of another in his mind. For feeling what another woman is feeling, for hearing a heartbeat and feeling a connecting string to another and it not being her? How could he tell her that it took all the strength in him to not just turn around and walk towards his mate to hold her in his arms, while on the other hand his mind and heart is yelling at him for forgetting all the promises he made to the woman standing infront of him for a second. A second that is a second too much. Because all the space in his heart is already reserved for Elain, there shouldn’t be any space left for another. But how could he explain to Elain that with every growing second he itches to just follow his instincts.

“I know this is confusing, trust me, I- I am confused but I, I- can’t and-“ he tried to stay calm and took a breath. Elain took his hands in hers again and encouraged him to go on with her eyes whenever he felt ready.

But ready he would never be, because just as he thought that he had everything under control, something inside of him jolted and made his head turn around sharply towards y/n. Alongside that, he felt a disgusting amount of hurt rolling over him that it took his breath away.

There she stood, tears rolling down her eyes while still looking at him. While Cassian was holding her wrist and trying to turn her towards him. He saw that he was saying stuff to her, but all the voices were quieted down by that ringing noise again. Now, if only he understood that she was crying because she saw her mate seeking comfort in another woman and that Cassian, along with his other friends, was only trying to understand the situation, was trying to comfort his friend, he wouldn’t have swatted off Elain’s hand this fast. He wouldn’t have taken charge towards Cassian. No, because this? This was pure male instinct taking over him. A male was touching his mate. She was crying.

His brain screamed at him to think for a moment before he took such rash decisions, but again, the bond had just snapped and all his emotions were running high, thoughts suppressed down by instincts. So he did what every mate would’ve done in his situation. He went to protect his mate.

—————————

The last thing y/n heard was the sound of Mor’s cries and Emerie’s words, because after that everything seemed to go silent and only a ringing was heard. A ringing from her opposite site, right where Azriel was standing. So she looked at him, looked how his eyes widened and how a string was forming to connect them. No. This, this couldn’t be right?

But an overwhelming amount of woody notes hit her nose and she became painfully aware that Azriel was unconsciously sending over his emotions. So much confusion and helplessness. She… she was his mate?

She felt the tears forming in her eyes while she didn’t know how she should feel about this revelation. The shadowsinger, the one person she has loved desperately for decades, the one person whose attention she never fully got, the one standing besides another, holding her hand, that person was his mate? And the bond snapped right before she signed her death warrant? Oh how cruel. How cruel all of this was, hasn’t she suffered enough?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, this was too much. And then Elain had to cradle her hands around his face. Her mate. She was touching her mate. She was furious, but realized too quickly that she couldn’t do anything about it. Because why did she feel less and less of Azriel’s emotions as he leaned his forehead against hers? This hurt, this hurt so much. Someone should’ve just gotten a knife and pierced it through her chest, because it would’ve promised her a less hurtful death.

This was agony, as she felt her brain carving in this sight in her memory so that she always remembered that even when the bond snapped between them, something so sacred, Azriel still chose another woman over her.

There was no place for jealousy in her when she saw Azriel placing little kisses in Elain’s hands as she only felt an enormous amount of pain and loss and grief, grief for something she didn’t have to begin with.

She felt like she was dying if it was not for Cassian noticing her sudden silence while the others were still arguing.

“Hey.. y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Hey-”

but she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t understand… why was his mate not looking at her? Why was it that another male was seeing her and not him? So she tried to look for something inside of her, she had to try breathing again, she needed to pull, pull on something.

And finally, Azriel turned her way, finally he looked at her. One moment he still had that sad look on his face when it suddenly turned into this eerie and intense gaze that felt like a predator sizing up his prey. She had never seen that look on him, his stare sending shivers down her spine. And suddenly he was moving.

—————————

His expression was carved in stone, a chilling coldness radiating from his gaze. Fists already clenched and ready to pounce on someone, feet moving with fast precision and his target clear. The bond in him shining brighter and encasing him completely. He was going to protect his mate and make the male pay for hurting her.

“Y/n you are scaring us, what’s going on- oh- Az what are you- YO WHAT THE FU-“ and Cassian felt a scrunch in his nose. But before he could stand up from the ground he felt Azriel already pouncing on him. What. the. fuck.

Azriel didn’t care. Didn’t care if the male in front of him was nearing his death with every punch he threw his way, and when he felt other arms trying to force him away from the male, he growled and felt so much strength course through his body, because no matter what, he was going to make this male pay and no one could prevent him from doing it.

No one; but apparently a strong pull within him. Because he felt his mate again and looked up instantly from the ground where he was just punching Cassian. And from this near he could see her eyes more clearly- a green color with a soft touch of brown and blue. She was ethereal and he was mesmerized by this woman standing in front of him. His mate was gorgeous. Just like that his heart started pounding faster again and for a moment he felt his ears reddening, because how could this beautiful being belong all to him?

“Are you alright?” He almost wheezed out at her, because he lost all his stamine to fight Cassian- wait. CASSIAN. Almost instantly he scrambled up and looked down to see a bloody faced Cassian laying on the ground.

“What has gotten into you Azriel?!” Rhysand screamed at him. And rightly so. The High Lord had struggled to get into his shadowsinger’s mind to yell at him to stop after he couldn’t get him off of Cassian. But he had been met with an iron wall, which is why he couldn’t reach Azriel.

“Brother I don’t know, if you just got possessed by something but damn if you needed to let off some steam, warn a guy beforehand yeah?”

Cassian tried to lighten up the mood a bit, because what had just transpired was far from normal, far from the Azriel they knew. And quite frankly it scared him and made him worry for his friend. From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta rushing out the tent she was in with what looked like some healing supplies. Thank god, he couldn’t feel his face.

Azriel looked frantic. His head was spinning and he couldn’t think clearly. What had he just done? He looked around him and saw his friends attentively staring at him, some worried, some scared of what he might do next.

“What were you even thinking?” He met the cold stare of his mate. Of y/n. God. A mate. She wiped the tears of her face with fast movements and stood tall again. And before he could respond her

“Azriel..?” And there, the voice that made his toes curl whenever he heard it. However, he wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face her. Amongst all, she had seen him do this. She had seen this side of him, but most of all she was probably confused by his actions or maybe she got a clue, he didn’t know. He needed to get out of here, but their situation didn’t really allow him, as he was reminded of their conflicting conversation before the bond snapped. As if nothing happened, as if the bond hadn’t snapped, and as if he hasn’t caused such a big scene mere minutes ago, y/n turned to Rhysand once more.

“Breaking this to the soldiers will be a tough one, I am sure all of them will understand that our charge means nothing but promised death. I just hope they’ll follow along.”

Then a pause. He saw her trembling slightly but whatever it was she snapped out of it and a deathly coldness radiated off of her.

“I will wait for your command Rhysand.” There she stood, like a perfectly trained warrior, someone who was drilled into this role.

“Y/n are you just going to ignore wh-“

“Rhysand.” She really was going to do this?

“We are in the midst of something bigger. Our enemies-” she pointed towards the Northern side, where she knew Hybern soldiers resided.

“-they won’t wait for us to take our sweet time to discuss these matters. We don’t know when they will charge next, but damn it if they get to us before we get to them, all of us will die on this battlefield, I can assure you that! We need to move and we need to do it faster than them.” She heaved out.

Rysand looked at her with an expression that pained her, he looked conflicted, like he was struggling to switch between his role’s of a brother and friend and his role as the High Lord of the Night Court.

Of course he knew that all y/n was saying was true, but damn it, he’s got the feeling that if he doesn’t interfere now, if he doesn’t press on the matter more, he would regret it for the rest of his life. That Azriel may regret it for the rest of his life. He looked at him then, at Azriel’s disheveled and unmoving form, as if he was in a trance. He waited for him to intervene again, but when nothing came out of his brother’s mouth, he made the decision.

But not before talking to his mate. Are you sure of this? She asked in his mind. We’ve got no other choice Feyre he returned sadly but determined. And then he spoke out what he always feared most towards a member of his close circle.

“You may leave whenever you feel ready. Thank you for all of your services soldier.” He had to. he needed to switch to his High Lord tone, because if he didn’t get ahold of himself it would mean their ultimate death. Of everyone.

Y/n just sharply nodded towards him, because they couldn’t do emotional farewells now, not now, when she knew that she and all the others would break down and they wouldn’t actually let her go. And by that she would just endanger the lives of everyone. She didn’t want that. So she and Rhysand had to act their roles. With that, without taking another look at her friends, she turned around and headed towards their military base.

But she was suddenly grasped by another force that turned her around once again.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll just let you go!”

The way her heart started fluttering faster when he hold her hand was almost too pathetic. However, she couldn’t do this with him. Before, this was always what she had wanted, but now… now everything has changed, she couldn’t get herself to be influenced by his sweet words.

She looked him in the eyes then.

“Please let go of me Azriel, you are making this more difficult than it already is.”

And she told him the truth. This was difficult for her. Knowing that her mate stood right before her, that she may have a chance to maybe, she didn’t know but .. but it hurt that only now, only now that he was forced by the bond he started to care for her. This is definitely not what she wanted, not this way. So against everything that the bond demanded of her, she pushed his hand out of the way, but he grabbed for her again.

“Difficult? I am making this difficult? Are you out of your mind? So you want me to stand here as if nothing happened between us? As if we aren’t-“

“Don’t end your sentence shadowsinger.” And he looked pained that y/n almost surrendered to kiss his frown away and take away all the sadness in his eyes. She snapped out of it. She couldn’t do this to him.

“You want to act like I belong to you all of a sudden? Who gives you the right to tell me what or what not to do? I made my decision, end of discussion. So now if you would please kindly let go of my hand.”

But he didn’t. Rather he strengthened his grip around her.

“Y/n, I understand that this is very bad timing, I understand your anger, but we need to talk about this before you make decisions of life and death, don’t you understand!”

He was trying so hard to find the right words, afraid of saying something that may aggravate the situation even more. Afraid of losing his mate before even having a chance at life with her. God, he still couldn’t believe it.

“Okay, then I got a question for you and you have to be honest with me.”

She needed to stop, she needed to stop self sabotaging herself.

“Ask me and I’ll answer truthfully y/n, I swear it to you.”

He didn’t know what came over him, but all he wanted for now was bring his mate back to safety, have more time to think this through more thoroughly.

“You want me to come back with you, but can you actually promise me that you are going to accept this bond with me? Are you actually going to leave Elain for me? Someone you chose out of love rather than obligation? Be truthful shadowsinger.”

Whatever he expected her to ask him, it wasn’t this. He- no he, he couldn’t make that decision now, not now, he needed more time to think, for the past minutes he hasn’t been in his right mind so how .. how could he possibly answer her without giving her false hopes.

“I…” and he looked into her pain filled eyes. He visibly shook as he felt her side of the bond. He was causing this pain?

“Y/n, you need to understand that I can’t- I can’t promise you that now. I don’t want to hurt you, but Elain she-“ he thought of choosing his words carefully “We have been together for a while now, and I can’t lie to you that I suddenly stopped loving her because the bond snapped. I am confused and I need more time-“

she gasped at that and god he wished he could make this easier, could prevent her from getting hurt

“-and I am aware that this is the most selfish I can get. Please, just, please don’t go there-“

her tears were already falling uncontrollably and he couldn’t hold back his own ones. He wished someone just ended him right then and there, so that he hadn’t had to see the agony in her eyes.

“-please allow me to just have more time so that I can sort this all out, I don’t want to hurt any of you, it is the last thing I want-“

“Do you actually hear yourself?” she whispered in a tone that made him want to stab himself for making her sound so helpless.

“Do you hear how selfish you are? I tell you what shadowsinger, if I can’t be your first choice I dont want to be a choice at all. I have loved you for so many years already, I have desperately wanted what you gave other women in your life, but if a bond is what gets you acting all caring towards me, then you can go to hell with that.”

What.

She loved him?

How come he never noticed her, how did he let it get to this point?

“… for how long?” he asked with widened eyes.

He was scared of the answer and judging by her reaction it wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Too long for me to count.”

She sounded almost resigned, almost like she just wanted to be put out of her misery.

She felt the stares of the others, so she looked behind Azriel and saw how everyone was holding their breaths and waiting for something to happen.

One piece of eyes, however, pierced through her, one pair of hurtful glassy eyes that made y/n happy and sad at the same time. But she couldn’t blame the woman, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame Azriel as well. They chose each other and she was the other woman. She tried to stay calm.

“Azriel… you have to forgive me for my outburst, but try to see it from my perspective. I know our situation isn’t quite fair, but we can’t choose fate. This is where it has brought us. Do yourself and everyone a favor and go back to your woman. She is waiting for you.”

It took everything in her to choose these words, to fight against her will, to fight against her desires, her want to sling her arms around him and claim him for herself, to show everyone that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him, to love and care for him how she had wanted to for so many years. To look him in the eyes and and declare her love to him and to finally feel that mouth of his on hers to test if it tasted how she had always imagined.

But she couldn’t.

While her words pierced through his soul, his grip on her loosened and she took this as her chance.

“I am sorry, I wish.. I just wish I could have been better, but- but y/n this doesn’t mean that you have to die for this.”

“I’d rather not live when my mate loves and nurtures another, Azriel, so please forgive me for-“

“But you don’t know what the future holds!”

She applauded his resilience and to be frank she didn’t expect this much fight for her from him, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Dont act like you would actually choose me Shadowsinger, you never did.”

And with that she broke the last piece of his soul that was still standing. Because, because she was right. He never chose her so why would she believe him? This beautiful, strong woman in front of him, who has carried so much hurt because of him, was he selfish for asking her to live?

He was numb. And he just wanted this anguish to end. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jolt, while he heard y/n talk again.

“Let go of me, let go of that little piece of me that has formed in the past minutes. It will be easier this way.” Y/n told him with resignation.

No he- he couldn’t do that, this couldn’t be the end for them. He wanted to step forward but the hand on his shoulder held him back, so he wanted to swat it off, because he had to get to his mate.

But another pair of hands was stopping his way to his mate, so now he got really irritated and tried to fight them off.

“Get your fucking hands off of me-“ and his vision suddenly became blurry as he heard his High Lord’s voice in his mind you need to let her go, she has already made a decision for herself. No, no! He was not letting her walk off to her death, he-

and while he tried to fight off every force trying to hold him back from her, he heard her distant voice Farewell, Azriel.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her blurry form walk off and disappear from his vision.

—————————

A/n: Whewww here is the second part! I never imagined I would go this direction or this far with the story but here we are 😭 First of all I want to thank everyone for your sweet reactions to the first part, this really means a lot to me, because this is my first time writing ever so thank you for your kind words <3 Secondly, I hope this was what you expected for the continuation of the story and that I didn’t leave you hanging. I am also open for any ideas and suggestions, so please don’t shy away from suggesting <3 The third part will probably come out a bit later than this as I have to focus on uni stuff again, but dont worry I wont leave this story as it is!

Again if you have some feedback, I would love to read what you think, and if you want to be added to the taglist just inform me :)

Oh and please tell me if the taglist worked!

Tag list:

@kingshitonly @phoenix666stuff @blackgirlmagicforever @dragonsandrinks @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @isa1b2h3 @curlyhairkk @jencole214 @willowpains @thestartitaness @romantasyreader28 @highladyofhogwarts @wrenisrad @minaaminaa8 @meritxellao @blepskies

[minswriting]

Could you make a fic where the reader is a member of the bau and she has crush on hotch and she has a dream about him then she’s really attracted to hotchs hands and he notices and he starts to like flex his hands infront of her and teases her about it then they fuck

Sorry if that doesn’t make sense lmao 💀

i wrote something similar but not exact. i hope you still enjoy though! this is longer than i expected lol. so here is 1,000 words about aaron’s hands

mdni - hand kink, fingering (f receiving) , praise

You couldn’t help looking at Aaron’s fingers as he gave the presentation on the case. You tried your best to pay attention to the case, you really did. But every time you looked at Aaron, your gaze would fixate on his fingers as your thoughts would drift to not-so-innocent places. It was wrong, you knew it was. Aaron was your boss, you were his subordinate. And yet, here you were, thinking about getting absolutely fingered blasted by your boss.

By the time you all touched down in Minneapolis, Minnesota, you tried your best to ignore your inappropriate thoughts. You tried your best to remain focused on the case and to not pay attention to Hotch unless absolutely necessary. But it was hard when everyone was sat in the precinct and Aaron had his fingers intertwined together as he sat and listened to everyone discuss the case.

Your mind drifted as you thought about the way Aaron’s fingers would feel inside of you, working you to an orgasm. You put one leg over the other, a subtle way to clench your thighs without anyone noticing. And after a sip of coffee, you got yourself out of your thoughts and back to the case.

After a long night, everyone had gone to the hotel with no leads on the case. It was frustrating, to say the least, but you were grateful. Perhaps an orgasm and a good night’s rest would help you be more focused for tomorrow. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt, when there was a knock at your hotel door. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You walked over to the door, looking out the peephole to see Aaron standing there and without hesitation, you opened the door.

“Is everything alright?” You asked as you opened the door, looking at your boss as he stood in front of you.

Aaron eyed you, taking in your appearance. “I actually came here to ask you the same thing,” He said, a concerned look in his eye. “Your mind seemed elsewhere today and I wanted to check in with you to make sure you were alright.”

Because of course, he noticed your behavior. Your cheeks visibly reddened, causing you to look down at the ground in embarrassment before you turned your gaze back to Aaron’s face. “I-uh, yeah, I’m okay,” You replied, clearing your throat. You moved to open the door wider, allowing Aaron into the room. You closed the door behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked gently, standing in your hotel room. “If there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it. While I am your unit chief, I am also here for you as a friend and I want you to feel-”

“It’s your hands,” You interrupted Aaron from his rambling, visibly cringing at yourself.

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you with his chocolate brown eyes that made you feel so weak in the knees. “My hands?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip. You were standing a good distance away from Aaron, knowing that this confession could very well cost you your position or at the very least, cause an awkward relationship with your boss. “They’re very…distracting, sir,” you said, still biting your lip.

“Is that so?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow, and taking a step towards you. That single step established something between the two of you that neither of you would back out of. “How are they distracting?” His voice went a bit lower. He was standing right in front of you as he spoke.

“I-I-uh,” You stuttered as you hadn’t expected such a reaction from Aaron. The proximity made your heart race, and your reddened cheeks felt as though they got hotter.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Aaron murmured, putting a tentative hand on your cheek.

And that’s how you landed on the edge of the mattress, naked, with Aaron sitting between your legs with his sleeves rolled up. He had two fingers buried inside of your cunt, moving at a slow pace as he got a feel for your pussy. “God, you’re soaking, sweetheart,” he said, licking his lips as he looked at your cunt and then at your face.

You let out a shaky whine, watching as Aaron’s fingers disappeared in and out of you. You were desperate, to say the least. You’ve been so turned on all day today and now that you were finally getting relief, in a way that you hadn’t expected to happen, you knew you weren’t going to last long. “Feels so good,” You moaned, biting your lip as you looked at Aaron.

Aaron hummed, speeding up his movements as he curled his fingers inside of you. “I’m glad, sweetheart,” he said, a small smile on his lips as he watched you. You were beautiful with your eyes blown out, cheeks red, and pussy glistening. All because of Aaron. He knew it was wrong. He was indeed your boss but he could hardly care when your body so clearly needs him.

You moaned a bit louder as Aaron curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on. “O-oh, fuck,” You moaned, feeling yourself getting close. The heat was growing in your abdomen. “I-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aaron said, fingering you at a consistent rhythm. “Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me.”

And that’s all you needed to let go as you clamped your thighs around Aaron’s hand, shaking as you came around his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, your toes curled, and your back arched. You were absolutely a sight to behold and it was all because of Aaron. Which is why he made you cum at least three more times before he fucked you into oblivion.

[putellas14]

A Girlfriend for Christmas (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

"Should I wear this one or this one?" you asked, holding up two dresses for your friend, Leila. Leila was laying on your bed, her phone in her hand, probably texting last night's hookup. 

She glanced up briefly, flicking her eyes over the dresses, before refocusing on her phone. "The blue one," she said. 

"Thank you," you muttered. Dropping the dresses on the bed, you pulled your sweats and shirt off, letting them fall on the ground. You shimmied the blue dress up over your hips and put your arms through the straps. You tapped Leila's foot to get her attention again. "Okay, how does this look?"

Leila looked up again. "Uh." Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her phone. "You look nice. Where are you going?"

"I didn't tell you?" You laughed to yourself. "I'm going to meet the girl I'm hiring to be my girlfriend for Christmas. Well, this will actually be the fourth girl I'm going to meet. Haven't had much success yet." 

"I'm sorry," Leila said, throwing her phone on the bed next to her and sitting up straighter, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm hiring a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Because I can't spend another Christmas listening to my entire family ask me endless questions about my love life." 

"Why didn't you just ask me to come with you?" she asked. 

"I couldn't do that. They all know you. They'd never believe it." 

"Why not?"

"Well," you thought for a second, "you're my friend."

"Friends date all the time. We could be friends who date,” she said, matter of factly. 

“Be real, Leila. I need this to work. You’ve always been very anti-relationship. No one is going to believe that we’re together.” 

Leila rolled off the bed and moved to stand in front of you. She was standing so close your lips were nearly touching. She lifted her hand, caressing your cheek with the back of her fingers, letting her fingers slowly, tortuously, slide down your neck. 

You felt an incredible sense of deja vu before remembering you’d been in this position before. Once. In a dream. A few months after meeting Leila. And you had berated the crush out of yourself back then. 

When you involuntarily leaned into her, she patted your cheek and stepped back. “See? We can make people believe we’re into each other.”  

“Right.” You cleared your throat and brought yourself back to reality. This reality. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Plus, this girl is already waiting for me, so it’d be rude to turn her down without at least going to meet her.” 

“Okay.” Leila settled back in your bed with her phone.

“What’re you doing? I’m leaving.” 

“And I’ll be here waiting to hear all the deets when you get back. I have to know everything. You know your brother is going to call me as soon as you walk through the door with this girl. Be weird if I don’t know anything about her.” 

“Fine. Make yourself useful and feed Dot while I’m out then,” you said, referring to your old sweet black cat who only enjoyed interacting with you or Leila. 

The bar you’d chosen to meet at was just a block away from you. But somehow you were still late getting there. She was already sitting at a table in the corner, her blonde hair flowed like a halo in the dim spotlight. She was even more beautiful than in her photographs. 

And that turned out to be her best quality. She was a complete bore. She could barely hold a conversation, stumbling her way through most sentences, and never saying anything of substance. Your family would give you a bigger headache for showing up with her than if you just went home alone. 

She wasn’t going to work. At all. 

After two drinks, you politely ended the night, thanking her for her willingness to help but gently turning her down. You paid for her drinks to make up for turning her down. 

“So?” Leila asks, as soon as you walk in. She had migrated from your bed to your couch. Dot was curled up next to her, sleeping. 

“Remind me never to have ideas again. She was so boring. My family would hate her.” 

“You know who they love?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face. 

You nearly shut her down again. But she was right. Your family did love Leila. She was their favorite of all your friends. Maybe it would be hard to convince them you were dating but at least they wouldn’t give you a hard time about picking a person who didn’t fit. 

“On one condition,” you heard yourself say. 

“Name it.” 

“No kissing on my lips.” 

“But how will we convince them then?” she asked, raising a single perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Ouahabi.” You crossed the living room, heading for your bed. “We leave at 8am tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder. “Don’t be late.” 

You had already bought the second train ticket, and it was simple enough to get the passenger’s name changed at the train station the next morning. The three of you (you, Leila, and Dot) settled in for the long ride down to Oxford. You dozed on and off, as was typical for you. At one point you woke to find yourself leaning on Leila’s shoulder. You apologized and sat straighter. She had just smiled in response and returned to her book. Dot slept peacefully in her carrier through the entire ride.

Your dad was waiting for you at the station, and he greeted you both with a huge hug before loading your bags into the car. You’d grown up there, both your parents being local primary school teachers. Your brother, James, had followed in their footsteps but was currently working towards his PhD so he could teach at university.

On the car ride home, you listened to Leila and your dad catch up with each other. Your family truly did enjoy Leila’s presence, which always warmed your heart. Thankfully, it seemed as though he had forgotten your text message letting them know you’d be coming home with your girlfriend for Christmas. God bless your dad and his forgetful nature. You were suddenly nervous about this whole ruse. 

As if Leila could sense it, likely from how quiet you were the entire ride, as your dad turned onto their road, she reached over and squeezed your hand. 

“Breathe,” she mouthed. 

And you did. Taking a few slow, deep breaths. It would be fine, you told yourself. This would all be fine. It was just a couple days. 

You could see your mom’s eyes get misty from the front door when she recognized Leila next to you. Clearly, she had not forgotten you were bringing home your “girlfriend.” 

She came down to the car so she could hug you tight as soon as you got out. “Hi, sweetie! How was the train?” 

“Hi, mom. Can’t. Breathe,” you managed. 

“Oh whoops.” She stepped back, loosening her grip on you and moving over to Leila. “Hello, Leila dear! Welcome!” She gave Leila as tight a hug as she gave you. “I think we have some catching up to do,” she said, looking over at me. Putting her arm around Leila’s shoulders, she guided her into the home. Leila looked over her shoulder at you as she went into the house and the panic on her face immediately calmed you down and brought pure amusement to you as you unloaded the bags and brought them into the house. You set down Dot's carrier by the front door and let her out. She immediately beelined for the sofa, her favorite place in this house.

From the front door, you caught a glimpse of the huge Christmas tree in the family room. There must have been at least a hundred ornaments hanging from the branches. Your mom (it was mom who loved Christmas the most) had garlands and decorations covering every available surface. She had always made home feel like something out of a winter Christmas fever dream. You loved it. It had always made you love Christmas so much. 

You wandered over to the Christmas tree, letting your eyes roam over all the ornaments and bows and lights. You had a small Christmas tree at the apartment in Manchester, but it was nothing like this. This was at least nine feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling. It was plump and full and not at all like your artificial pre-lit tree. And it smelled absolutely glorious, straight out of a forest. 

You kept walking through, taking in all the little details. You could hear them all talking in the kitchen and slowly made your way back there, stopping to give Dot a few scratches behind the ears.

“Y/N!” Leila said, when you walked in. She reached out towards you, her eyes wide, and grabbed your forearm to bring you closer to her. “Perfect timing. Your parents were just asking when we started dating.” And now the wide-eyed look made much more sense. 

She was scared of them. 

Maybe this idea wasn’t so bad, after all, if it meant a few days of watching Leila squirm. 

“Oh. You didn’t want to tell them?” you asked, smirking. You leaned against the counter next to her. 

“I thought you might want to do that.” 

“Er right.” She looped a finger in your belt loop and dragged you closer to her, letting her arm rest around your waist. Even though this was fake, and you were both affectionate with each other, the move caused something to stir deep in your stomach. Swallowing the lump that was growing in your throat, you said, “Leila finally got off her ass and asked me out about three months ago.” 

“Three months!” your mom exploded. “Three months, she says, like it’s nothing.” Clearly, she was going to give you a pass on swearing given her fixation on your answer.  

“We didn’t want to tell you until we’d had time to give it a chance,” Leila answered, giving you a small smile.  

“Well, honey, we’re so glad you finally asked Y/n/N out. This means I win the bet,” she said in her husband’s direction. 

“What bet?” you asked. 

Before either could respond, the front door opened and you heard your brother yell out, “I’m here! Let’s get the eggnog flowing!” You move out of Leila’s grasp and run out into the front hall to give him a hug. It had been a couple months since you’d seen each other. Football season was always hard. 

“Hey kid, how you are doing?” James asked. 

No matter how old you got, James always called you kid. It had started as an insult when you were his annoying little sister and had morphed into a term of endearment as you’d gotten older. 

“I’m great. Merry Christmas.” 

“Leila? What the heck are you doing here?” he asked, spotting her over your shoulder. When he sidestepped you to give her a hug, you saw the huge grin on his face. You watched them embrace each other before he stepped back and put her in a headlock. It was like they had grown up as siblings, you thought with a shake of your head. 

"I told you I was bringing my girlfriend home for Christmas," you said, nonchalantly. Maybe too nonchalantly, by the look of shock on his face as his eyes met yours. He looked between you and Leila, still holding her in a headlock. "Can you let her go before you accidentally strangle her?" I reached out for Leila's hand as his arms slid limply from her neck. She linked her fingers with yours and allowed you to tug her over to you. "James, Leila is my girlfriend." 

"What do you mean?" he asked dumbly. 

"I know mom and dad explained how this works," you shot back. 

"But when? How? I mean, why?"

"Why? Well, I mean, look at her." You pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the heat flood her face under your lips. "And we were just answering those same questions for mom and dad. Three months ago. And she asked me out."

"Three months? That's like, that's so long ago!" 

"And now you're going to tell me what you know about this bet mom was just starting to say she won." 

"Uh. Nothing." He picked up his backpack again and started to walk away. "I know nothing." 

"Liar!" you yelled at his back. You looked down at your hand, fingers still tangled with Leila's. As you started to smile to yourself, you looked up at her face. She was standing still, no real expression on her face. "What?" No answer. You shook her hand, trying to get her attention. "Earth to Leila. Are you okay?" 

She shook her head and looked at you, seeming to be coming out of whatever had occupied her mind. "I'm great. Your mom said something about hot chocolate, let's go get some." She dropped your hand, walking back towards the kitchen. 

Your mom always went all out on the hot chocolate. There was whipped cream and marshmallows and little Christmas themed sprinkles and, of course, alcohol. A whole assortment of alcohol was now sitting on the counter, waiting for each person to take their pick. Per usual, you took vanilla vodka. She'd also set out some sandwiches. Once everyone was settled around the small kitchen table, you brought the conversation back to the bet.

"How much do you win in this bet, mom?"

"What bet?" dad asked, feigning innocence.

"The bet mom gleefully said she won after finding out how long I've been dating Leila."

The three of them at least had the humility to look sheepishly at each other before mom answered, "Fifty quid."

"And what did the rest of you bet?"

"That you'd eventually ask Leila out," your dad answered.

"That you'd die alone," James answered. Your dad slapped him over the back of his head. "Ouch."

"Be nice," your mom warned. He got up to top off his mug with whiskey and she reminded him that Mass was starting soon.

Shoot. You had forgotten to tell Leila that you'd be going to Christmas Eve Mass. "I have an outfit you can borrow, if you need," you whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered, covering it with her mug.

"So, girls," your dad said, "we know that Y/N's bedroom is a little small for the both of you." Oh, god, where was this going? "Mom and I talked about it, and we'd be okay if you both stayed in the guestroom, if you'd prefer."

You could tell this was as awkward for him as it was for you. Your room only had a single bed and although you had snuck girlfriends in and slept on that single bed with them, you weren't intending to share that bed tonight. You were temporarily taken aback by the offer because you assumed your parents would force you to sleep in separate rooms.

Leila reached over, squeezing your hand. "Y/N and I talked about it as well. And we're both quite comfortable being split up. Thank you very much for offering, though."

"Just so you know, there's a creaky board between the guest room and Y/N's room," James said. "I'll hear you if you sneak over."

Your dad hit him over the back of the head again. "Shut it, James." He turned back to you. "We want to make sure you're both comfortable."

"Thanks, dad," you said quietly. Leila squeezed your hand again and you looked over at her. She was giving you a soft smile. Of course, she knew how you were feeling. Overwhelmed and loved. You'd spent years in the closet, worried about upsetting everyone. It was easier to lean into the side of you that was attracted to men back then. To now have your parents be so welcoming to your "girlfriend" choked you up.

You were suddenly really glad you'd brought Leila along to play this role. It was somehow easier with someone you already knew. Having a total stranger sitting next to you right now would have made you feel really lonely.

Before you could dig too far into your feelings, your mom clapped her hands and said it was time to go get ready. Looking at the clock, you were shocked to find it was already so late. You took Leila up to your room first, so that she could see what options you had. No surprise to you, she took the only outfit with pants.

"What?" she asked when she saw you giggling in her direction. "My jacket will match it."

"I'm sure that's the reason." You picked one of the dresses up and held it up in front of you. Looking in the mirror, you checked to see if it would be long enough. Hmm, maybe not. You picked up another, checking for the same thing. Good enough. You pulled off your sweater to change and Leila stopped you.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what're you doing?" she asked, slapping her hand over her eyes.

"What? I changed in front of you last night. And I change in front of you all the time!"

"Yeah, but not in your parents' house." She turned away. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached her arm out and started feeling around, bumping into multiple items in your room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the door."

"Then open your eyes!"

"No!"

"Ugh. Fine." You walked towards her. She was only a few inches off. Because of the way your furniture was set up, you had to angle your body sideways next to her to reach the knob. You could feel your chest pressed into her arm and held your breath, so your chest wouldn't move at all. God, you felt stupid. "The door is open," you muttered, stepping back. She fled as quickly as she could, keeping her eyes closed until she was in the hallway. Shaking your head, you closed the door again. You were half naked, after all.

You quickly got ready and went down to wait for everyone. The five of you squeezed into your dad's tiny ancient Renault for the short drive over to your local church. Your parents liked to attend Mass on important days of the year. Your brother had become more involved in the church as you'd gotten older, and he regularly attended Sunday Mass. You, on the other hand, had a more complicated relationship with religion. The church was a source of community, but it had also been a source of stress as a young queer kid. You were always still afraid walking through those doors that something negative was coming your way.

As if Leila could sense your apprehension, she closed her hand over yours as you walked in. It helped you feel more grounded. You went to Mass every year for your family but that had never made it easier. You had also never told them how you felt, only that you didn't connect with organized religion. But Leila knew. Leila knew everything about you. And she understood, without any additional words, what was going on in your mind at that moment. She kept your hand in her throughout most of the service, at some points drawing random patterns with her thumb.

The way she kept reading your mood today should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you really glad to have her here. Although your family's consistent pestering of your love life was uncomfortable and annoying, it really wasn't anything compared to how lonely it made you feel. Their questions always reminded you that you were completely alone.

And Leila seemed to be on a mission to prove to you that you weren't alone.

The four of you had a quiet dinner in town at one of your favorite restaurants before heading home. It had been an early morning for you, and you said good night soon after you got home. Leila opted to stay up and hang out with James a while longer. And to your displeasure, Dot decided to stay curled on Leila's lap rather than coming up to bed with you. Leila and James both laughed when you pouted. Annoyed at them ganging up on you, you bent down to give Dot a kiss on the head and ignored them both.

As you walked away, you heard James say, "Ooo you're in trouble." You heard Leila respond but were too far away at that point to hear what she said. You were far more exhausted than you realized. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, preventing you from overthinking what she could have said in response.

The next morning, you quickly showered, knowing Christmas day had a way of getting chaotic fast. You headed downstairs and found your parents cuddled on the couch, their cups of tea teetering precariously on the cushions next to them.

"Merry Christmas!" you said.

"Good morning. Merry Christmas, honey," your mom said.

"Merry Christmas!" your dad said at the same time.

"Do either of you want more tea?" you asked, pointing at their mugs. They both shook their heads, so you went to make your cup. While the water boiled, you took the moment to enjoy the quiet morning. You stared out the window, watching the birds fly from roof to roof. It was softly snowing outside, adding to the feeling of calm. The kettle started whistling, prompting you to remove it from the heat.

"Think I could get one of those too?" Leila asked from the doorway, startling you. You hadn't even heard her come in. You pulled another cup down and filled it. You put the kettle down and leaned against the counter to wait for the tea to steep. "Merry Christmas," she said quietly, remaining on the other side of the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas." You crossed your arms across your chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. James and I stayed up pretty late and Dot kept me company after that."

"Not used to sleeping alone, Ouahabi?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, the amusement clear in your voice. Leila, on the other hand, scowled at you instead of laughing with you. "I meant that as a joke," you said sheepishly when she didn't respond. Feeling awkward, you checked the teas. The color looked okay, so you picked one up and handed it to Leila, leaving the other on the counter. "Milk?" Sometimes she took milk, sometimes she didn't. She shook her head. You poured a small amount into your cup and returned the carton to the fridge.

"What's the plan for the day?"

"Dad and I usually go for a walk, if you want to come. We'll leave from Gran's around 10:30 and we'll stay there until evening. We usually have like a late lunch type of deal there."

"Okay." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "How long is your walk? I'll have to shower before we go."

"Should be plenty of time. You should come. Get some fresh air before we're shut in with my relatives the rest of the day." You made a face at her, hoping to get a laugh out of her. When she at least smiled at you, you considered it a win. "Want to sit down?" you asked, gesturing towards where your parents were. She nodded and followed behind you.

"Good morning, Leila honey," your mom said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling her cup between her hands. The four of you sat quietly, listening to the crackle of the fire in the corner. Dot strolled in midway through your cup and nuzzled her face into your arm. You lifted your arm, letting her cuddle into your side. She collapsed against the side of your leg, and you let your hand gently rest on her back. "I guess she missed you after all," Leila said.

You smiled down at Dot, slowly moving your fingers against her fur. "Guess she did." You went back to silence, enjoying the addition of Dot's loud purring to the fireplace. "Oh, dad, Leila's going to come for a walk with us."

"Alright, great. Looks a little cold out there, so don't forget your coats, girls."

"Should we leave in about 10 minutes?" you asked. They both nodded in agreement. Your mom protested by snuggling further back into him.

"15 minutes," he said.

"Sure," you said with a big grin. Your parents had set too good of an example of what a relationship should be. They both genuinely enjoyed the company of the other. They worked together well as partners. They respected each other. They loved each other so fiercely. And nothing had changed after thirty years. If anything, their relationship was even better now. You let your eyes get a little misty, before turning your eyes downward to hide it from the room. If you had been looking anywhere else, you would have seen that you hadn't hidden anything from Leila.

The three of you set out twenty minutes later (your mom had protested again when dad tried to get up). It was still softly snowing, causing all of you to draw your hoods. It made it nearly impossible to hear anyone, which left the three of you walking in silence. You were glad for this walk. You knew the rest of the day would be loud and chaotic and stressful. This walk allowed you to hold onto the quiet of Christmas morning for as long as possible.

By the time you returned home, you were freezing cold, and a thin film of snow was stuck to the fur-lining of your hood. Leila laughed as some of it fell on your face. She removed her glove and lifted her hand to brush away the rest of it before it could fall on you. The heat rose to your cheeks, and you tried to tell yourself it was due to the blast of heat that had greeted you when you walked into the house.

While everyone showered and prepared last-minute gifts, you closed yourself in your room to hold onto those last few final moments alone. You had brought a red dress and tights for the day. The dress tucked in at your waist before flowing down to your mid-thigh. It was one of your favorite dresses, but you didn't often wear it because you thought the red was too bright for most occasions. Deciding to go forth with the boldness you were feeling, you painted your lips a deep red as well and carefully applied a thick layer of mascara.

"Y/N, come on!" James yelled. "It's time to go! What're you doing?"

Shocked, you looked at the clock next to your bed. You had no idea where the time had gone but you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, grabbed your coat and heels, and ran downstairs. "Sorry sorry. I wasn't watching the time." You sat down on the bottom of the steps to buckle your heels. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You look," Leila said when you stood. She let her eyes wander down you and back up to your face. "You look beautiful."

James hit her arm."Ew, dude. That's my sister."

"What?" she asked, hitting him back. "I've got eyes. Plus, she's my girlfriend. I'm allowed to, no I'm supposed to, compliment her and make her feel good!"

"She's right," your dad interrupted. "You should take notes, James, in case you ever convince anyone to date you."

"Ouch," he said, rubbing his chest.

"Alright, the lot of you," your mom said, "into the car. Let's go."

You sat quietly on the drive to Gran's while Leila and your parents talked about an upcoming trip to Morocco. You could tell Leila was in the zone. She loved talking about Morocco and giving recommendations to people who had never been there before.

There was almost no parking near her home, and you ended up having to walk quite a way in your heels, balancing the pot your mom had shoved into your hands. At one point, you had nearly slipped but Leila caught you around the waist with one hand and steadied the pot with her other hand. She kept her arm around you for the rest of the walk, making sure you stayed upright.

The rest of your family was already in the house, and they excitedly welcomed Leila in. Leila had been to family events and had met most people in the past. Your gran was probably more excited than your mom had been when you went over to say hello to her and introduce Leila as your girlfriend. She gripped both your and Leila's hand in her lap and cried, telling you both she had never seen such a beautiful couple and she was so happy to have Leila officially in the family. She was so emotional that you started getting choked up as well. When she let you both go, you leaned over and gave her an extra kiss on the cheek.

"Can I get you anything, Granny?"

"No, dear. Go have fun," she said, patting your hand.

"You want a drink?" you asked Leila. She nodded and offered her hand. You placed your hand in hers and pulled her behind you into the kitchen. Uncle Mark made the booziest egg nog every year. But there was also an assortment of other drinks your cousins had presumably brought. "Egg nog?" Leila nodded. You filled two cups and handed one to her.

"Going right in for the strong stuff?" Uncle Mark asked from the doorway.

"Always. You remember Leila, right?" He nodded. "She's my girlfriend now," you said with a smile.

"That's awesome. Well welcome. Today will be the real test of if you can put up with this family," he said with a deep belly laugh.

"Oh my god, stop," you mumbled into your cup.

"I'm just kidding. Kind of," he mumbled. "Anyways, Luke's upstairs. He's been waiting for you to get here."

Your youngest cousin, Luke, loved football almost as much as you did. It's his dream to follow in your footsteps and play professionally. He came to as many of your matches as his parents would allow him to. Leila went to mingle while you went up to find him. You found him in the spare room watching old plays on his phone.

"Y/N! Hi!" He jumped off the bed to hug you, nearly knocking his head against your chin. "When'd you get here?"

"Hi, bud. We just got here a few minutes ago. What're you watching?" That question unleashed something in him, and he explained how he was watching clips from MLS in America, and he was trying to analyze whether he agreed with the calls made or not. He had read online that the refs in MLS were some of the worst in the world and he wanted to decide for himself whether he agreed with that or not. So far, he agreed. After about twenty minutes of letting him walk you through every play and the calls, you asked him if he remembered your friend, Leila Ouahabi. He nodded, his cheeks suddenly turning pink.

"She's really pretty," he whispered.

"I agree," you whispered back. "She's downstairs if you want to go say hi." His eyes got wide. "Go say hi. I'm sure she'd love to talk about football with you." He grabbed your hand and pulled you along behind him.

You caught Leila's eyes from the top of the stairs, and you pointed, trying to tell her he was coming down for her. For the next twenty minutes, Leila got a full recap of what you had just heard upstairs. She kept asking him follow-up questions and you could tell he got even more excited every time she interrupted him. At some point you wandered away to refill your egg nog and talk to some other people.

As the afternoon wore on, you made your way around the room, spending time with each of your family members. You made sure to keep an eye on Leila and to periodically relieve her from any uncomfortable conversations. It was during one of these that it happened. Your brother and Uncle Mark had their grips in her, grilling her about her intentions with me. You had caught a snippet of it as you passed and abruptly halted, slipping your hand around her waist.

"That's probably enough of that for today, don't you think?" you asked them, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think so," James said. You saw his eyes flicker up briefly but didn't think anything of it.

"We need to know what's happening, kid," Uncle Mark said.

"We'll tell you when there's something to know," you assured him.

"It seems you've found yourself fallen victim to Gran's mistletoe this year," your aunt said from the couch, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Have to give her a kiss, Leila. Granny's house, Granny's rules."

"Oh. Um, no, we're good, Aunt Lydia," you said.

"Rules are rules," Gran yelled, banging the tip of her cane against the floor.

"Rules are rules," Leila said. In a whisper, she added, "Come on, just one kiss and they'll leave us alone." She turned into you, the arm around her waist involuntarily dropping a little lower. She moved your hair behind your shoulders with the tips of her fingers. "Sorry for breaking your rule," she said. Cupping your face in her hands, she laid a small kiss on your lips.

"A real kiss for couples!" Gran yelled out. "You're young and in love. Anyone can see that. But right now, you look like cousins saying hello."

"Gran," you grumbled.

"Can't disappoint her," Leila said. 

She brought your face close to her again, stopping when you were a hair’s breadth away. “Sorry for really breaking your rule,” she said. When you sucked in a deep breath, she closed her lips over yours. Your brain short circuited and your fingers reflexively dug into her waist. You ordered yourself to kiss her back. Couldn't have your family thinking you were shocked when your girlfriend kissed you. Her lips were unimaginably soft. When she touched her tongue to your lower lip, your heart dropped into your stomach.

As your hand came up to cup her cheek and bring her closer, she stepped back. Her face was flushed, and her lips were now tinged red from your lipstick. You reached your hand towards her to wipe it off, but her hand moved faster.

"Now that was much better," Gran said. "Good job, James."

You and Leila snapped your heads towards James. "James?" you growled. Normally it was Uncle Mark who helped Gran set up the house for Christmas and hid the mistletoe.

"James?" Leila asked, echoing you. But she sounded more hurt than anything. You looked back at her. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Leila, it's just a tradition," he tried to explain. He reached out towards her, and she backed away.

Confused by what was happening, you kept an arm around her for support. "Let's get a drink," you whispered to her.

"Yeah, anyone would need to cool down after that," one of your cousins yelled. You flipped him off as you led her away into the kitchen.

You grabbed two glasses and indicated towards the punch. She nodded. As you filled the cups, you said, "I'm sorry about that. I should've warned you about Granny's antics."

"It's alright, Y/N, I'm not upset about it."

You handed her one of the cups. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. Everything's fine." She sipped her punch, avoiding eye contact.

You didn't believe a word. That kiss had been fire, and you didn't think you were the only one still feeling it. You didn't feel "fine" and you were certain by Leila's reaction to James that something was wrong. "Okay, well. Um." Why did you feel awkward? "We can hide out in here for a few minutes but I'm sure someone else will be coming along soon to interrupt this momentary quiet space they've given us."

The two of you stood there in silence, sipping your drinks. You had never been at a loss for words with Leila before. You spent a lot of time in silence with each other, just hanging out, but it was never because either of you didn't know what to say.

Your thought was interrupted by Luke, wanting to ask Leila a question. She gave you a little smile. Lifting your hand, she pressed a little kiss to it before leaving with him to answer his questions.

You frowned down at your hand. There was a dull ache in your chest after that momentary glimpse of what it could be. That kiss had shifted something in you. Something you had buried a long time ago. You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings towards Leila. Pretending to be her girlfriend had to be one of your stupider ideas. Well, agreeing to pretend to be her girlfriend. Pretending at all was Leila's idea. You could curse her for that. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you tried to calm yourself down and remind yourself it was only until tomorrow. A few days of pretending and then you'd go back to being friends. In a few weeks, you'd call your parents and tell them it hadn't worked out. Maybe the pressure of being on the same team would cause a falling out. It wouldn't be the first time your football career had caused a problem in your dating life. You'd probably text your brother and he'd come to Manchester to take you out for a pint. He'd threaten to hurt Leila for hurting you and you'd calm him down and reassure him that it was you who had ended it. And by the next holiday, they would barely remember that you had brought home Leila this year. Your mom would barely remember saying "aw" every time you shared something cute about your "relationship." Your dad would barely remember bonding with Leila over his new power tools. And James would barely remember joking with Leila around the dinner table. 

Who were you kidding? Your family loved Leila almost more than you. They might never forgive you for "breaking up" with her.

You tried to engage in conversations with your family members and enjoy the holiday. But your eyes kept drifting back to Leila. And every time that happened, you grew a little sadder that this fake relationship was almost over.

During dinner, Leila sat down next to you. You ordered yourself to act happy and to not be awkward. You gave her smiles and casually touched her, as any couple would do. But you barely tasted your food. It went down like cement.

After dinner, your mom shooed everyone into the living room, saying that you and her would clean up. You worked in comfortable silence emptying food into containers while she washed the dishes. When you finished your task, you set to drying dishes so she'd have space for the steady stream of dishes she was still washing. 

"How are you doing? Really?" she asked. 

"I'm doing fine." 

"You just seem a little down is all."

Maybe you weren't fooling anyone after all. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind." This lie felt worse than the little lies you'd told all day. In the past, you would have talked to your mom if you were crushing on someone or you were struggling with someone. But you couldn't this time. Because if you did, they would all know that you were a liar. And that Leila had helped you lie to them. 

It was all feeling like too much. 

"It's just football stuff. Nothing to worry about." At least you were setting some context for your future break up story. 

"Okay," she said, not sounding at all convinced. After a few silent moments, she said, "I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but you can always talk to us. If you want."

"I know, mom. It's just football stuff," you said again. Thankfully, she let it go and you two continued to work in silence after that.

When you finished, you went to the living room to ask if anyone wanted tea. Everyone was now sitting around the fireplace, quietly talking. A few hands shot up. You quickly counted off how many you needed and went to the kitchen to boil the water. You arranged the cup and saucers on one of Gran's Christmas-themed trays.

As you took the tray around the room, you noticed both James and Leila were missing. You asked your dad if he'd seen them. He said they had gone out for a walk after dinner and hadn't come back yet. You glanced up at the clock. You'd finished dinner almost an hour ago. Looking out the window, you could see that it was still snowing outside. Frowning, you sat down next to him to sip your tea and wait for them while Simon read A Christmas Carol aloud.

They didn't come back for another half hour. Leila's eyes looked red, from the cold or from crying you couldn't tell. You raised your eyebrow at James, and he just smiled at you. He whispered something to Leila and then disappeared into the kitchen. She looked at you for a moment before coming to sit on the floor near you. You could feel her shivering and pulled the throw off the sofa to give her.

"Thank you." She took it and wrapped it tight around her.

"Why were you gone so long?" you whispered, still leaning down towards her.

"We were just talking."

"You okay?"

"Just tired. But I'm okay," she reassured. She squeezed your calf and gave you a half smile. "Ah, my prince," she said, lifting her hands when James walked in with two teacups.

"Anything for you, sis," he said with a wink. He sat down across from her on the floor, leaning back against the opposite sofa. The remainder of the evening, you kept catching them give each other looks. It was like they were having their own conversation, all without words, and all without anyone's input. You couldn't see Leila's face, but you could see her shoulders move every so often and see her shake her head.

Simon finished reading a little after 9pm. Everyone started moving, cleaning up the living room so Gran wouldn't be left with any mess. It took only 10 minutes with everyone's help. The end of A Christmas Carol always signaled the end of the night.

"Good night," you said, leaning over to give Gran a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, good night, sweetheart. Thank you for bringing your sweet girlfriend for Christmas."

"I know she enjoyed being here too." You gave her one more hug, but she tightened her arm around your neck before you could stand up.

"Don't let her go. She's a special girl."

You couldn't say anything, tears caught in your throat. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded as you stood up straight.

The drive home felt endless, squished between your brother and Leila. Your earlier sadness at this charade ending tomorrow had morphed into desperation for it to end. When you got to the house, you helped unload the car before quickly saying good night and escaping to your room. You scooped up Dot on your way up. You needed the comfort of your pet tonight. Hot tears burned your eyes and soaked your pillow for the guilt of having put your family through this. Why had you ever thought this was the answer? Why had you ever agreed to let Leila come here? Dot snuggled into your side, and you kissed the top of her head, glad she wasn't protesting not being allowed to sleep in another room.

You don't know what time you eventually went to bed, but you know you were still crying when sleep took you.

In the morning, you quietly packed your bags before going down. The train was not until 11am. Your mom had promised to make a nice breakfast before you left. Figuring you should help with that, you dressed quickly and went downstairs.

"Good morning," your dad greeted. He was coming in from outside, shaking snow off his boots.

"Good morning, dad." You walked through to the kitchen. "Hi, mom."

"Ah you're up. Good morning." She stood at the counter, cutting onions.

"What can I help with?"

"Actually, do you mind going out to the garden? Leila asked me to have you come out when you woke up. She's been out there a while now."

"Oh. Um, okay." You didn't think you were prepared for this just yet. But they were both looking at you, waiting for you to move. "Right. Okay, I'll just grab my coat." You took your time getting your coat and shoes on.

You found her sitting on the garden wall. She looked really cold. The tip of her nose was red. She was frantically rubbing her hands together. "Leila?" She looked up at you. "Maybe we should talk inside? It'll be warmer."

"No. No, I don’t want anyone to hear this conversation."

"Okay." You stayed where you were, not sure if she wanted you to sit down or even move closer. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking."

"I can see that."

"Just let me finish. I won't be able to finish if you talk in the middle." She nervously rubbed her hands over her thighs. "I don't have perfect words. I'm not really like poetic or whatever."

"What-"

"No. Wait. Look, these last couple days have been great. But I didn't think they would affect me as much as they have."

"What-"

"Shut up." She looked up at you. "I need to tell you that I'm yours. Have been for a while, if I'm being completely honest. I don't know if you want me. But I belong to you. I'm yours, if you want me."

You stood there, unmoving, staring at her, your jaw slack in astonishment. Your breath was coming out in little streams of fog.

"Now you're going to stand mute? You're stolen my heart, Y/N, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it."

You'd never believed that hearts actually skipped a beat in moments like these but there was no other way to describe what was happening in your chest. Taking a few large steps towards her, you grabbed her lapel to bring her face closer to yours and kissed her. Your grip on her softened as she slowly stood, never breaking contact with you. Your hands moved up her neck so you could wrap your arms around her.

"Okay I'll take that as a response," she said, her eyes still closed.

Giggling, you kissed her again.

"Hmm. Yes. I'll definitely take that." She opened her eyes to look at you, her arms staying around your waist. "Do you. Um. Wait, will you be my real girlfriend?"

"I think I could manage that." You smiled brightly, playing with the hair on the back of her neck. "What're we going to tell my parents?"

"I think they already know," she said, pointing over your shoulder at the house. You turned to see the three of them squeezed together to see out the tiny side window. Your dad awkwardly waived while your brother just grinned, and your mom wiped a tear from her eye.

"How did they?"

"James figured it out the first night."

"Of course he did." You turned back to her. "Let's go inside, you're freezing." You took her hand in yours and pulled her towards the front of the house. This time when you walked in the door, you went as real girlfriends, instead of fake girlfriends. Your heart was at the fullest it had been in years.

Your mom was still crying as she rushed towards both of you, pulling you both into a hug. "Oh, my sweet girls!" She kissed the side of both of your heads. "I'm just so so happy for both of you."

"Thanks, mom," you said, hugging her back.

"Go, get warm," she said, stepping back and wiping more tears from her eyes. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

You took her to the living room, to the couch in front of the fire. Sitting down, you pulled her down with you and covered her with a blanket. The chill hadn't yet hit your bones, like it had Leila. You wrapped your arms around her to hold her close and transfer as much of your heat to her as you could.

"What're we going to tell the girls on Monday?" she asked.

"We'll just be honest."

"That I pretended to be your fake girlfriend because I thought it'd be the closet I got to being your real girlfriend and then your idiot brother played antics to actually make it real?"

"Maybe we can leave a few things out." She shivered again and you brought the blanket up more tightly around her. "How long were you out there?"

"Like an hour."

"Leila!"

"Girls, breakfast is ready," your dad called out.

When Leila stood up, you took off your jumper and gave it to her. "Wear this. It'll help." She pulled it over her head, and you straightened it when it got caught in her long sleeve shirt.

"Thanks."

Your mom had put together a full English breakfast. It wasn't typical that she made it all at once but during the holidays, especially on travel days, she liked to make sure everyone had enough food in their bellies. As everyone ate, you looked around the table. There was laughter and talking over each other. There was love and friendship. There was everything you'd ever wanted at this table. You'd never felt incomplete but somehow in this moment, you felt whole. Nothing really made sense to you either.

"Does this mean mom still wins the bet?" your dad asked.

"You can split it," you answered. "Just as long as James loses," you added with a huge smile.

"Hey, you would've ended up alone if I hadn't meddled," he said.

"Oh great. Now he's going to have a big head about that."

"You'll be too busy in your little love bubble to even notice how big my head is about to get," he retorted.

"Are they fighting or saying nice things?" Leila asked your mom.

"A little of both."

James ended up paying both your parents £50, although mom insisted she had won because Leila had asked to be your fake girlfriend and had been the first to say how she felt. But dad wasn't having it.

They dropped you at the train station, promising to come watch a match and visit soon. The train ride to Manchester was similar to the ride home for Christmas. Leila read while you and Dot slept. Except this time, she lifted the arm rest between you and opened her arm to let you more comfortably sleep on her shoulder. You slept peacefully all the way home to Manchester, cuddled into her side.

[yarnfireflies]

Sometimes I wish I could just put everyone on Twitter into the most boring 9-5 office job with colleagues like the 18 year old woke intern and the 66 year old right wing white man and everyone in between and make them realise that the “real world” is not some moral battleground where the “most morally perfect” person wins in the end (who even is that).

You’ll meet a lot of people who you don’t agree with and still have to have some kind of professional working relationship with. You just have to find your people and stick with them. And be able to just ignore the bullshit other people say.

This probably doesn’t make sense, it’s hard for me to put my thoughts in english but I needed to put something out there.

[marypsue]

Continuing on from the serious answer, because I thought about it some more.

Judging from interviews, anecdotes from people who knew them, and their performances, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Bruce Springsteen, Dolly Parton, and Chappell Roan are/were all very aware that they are/were putting on personas that exaggerated stereotypes of masculinity/femininity. Bruce was deliberately dressing up like his blue-collar father to do the kind of work that his blue-collar father didn't respect as 'real' work. Dolly embraced her drag queen fandom, and Chappell takes style cues back from drag. These people are all self-aware performers doing art with the trappings of gender.

There's a damn good reason that Dean Winchester turned up in my mind as one of two possible directions for playing with stereotypes and trappings of gender for queer women. There's been a lot of ink spilled (most of it not by me, I'll defer to the experts, I'm just here for a good time) over how, when someone tries to build the most manly manly male fictional character, they tend to pile on traits that many real men have but not usually all at once. The sheer unrealistic weight of idealised masculinity makes it feel like a parody, like a put-on. And for an actor or writer to then give the character any sense of groundedness, to make him feel like a person instead of a caricature or a cartoon, the character has to be treated as though, even subconsciously, he's putting at least some of it on.

However. Dean Winchester is a fictional character, and so, is incapable of any real interiority. Given the facts of multiple writers who were apparently sometimes at war with the showrunner and the studio, the 'interiority' that he seems to have also changes by the episode. It's physically impossible for him to be self-aware and deliberately playing with the trappings of the role that he inhabits, because he doesn't exist, and so doesn't have an independent mind to make decisions with. Like any other fictional character, he's less an artist constructing a deliberate persona, and more a ready-made persona for an artist to identify with, play with, use, subvert, step into. (Possess? But that's another thread to pull, for another long-winded, too-serious and yet also too-silly post.)

Anyway. Point is. You have to be a real person with an independent mind to be able to put on a persona that is constructed by a 'real' self underneath. But you definitely don't have to be a real person with an independent mind for your persona to be constructed of an exaggeration of the trappings of masculinity - or femininity - or for that persona to be used, recontextualised, reconfigured, played with in deliberate ways that are compelling to a queer audience. And when I think of fictional women who embody stereotypical femininity to the degree of Dolly or Marilyn, there's really only one. One icon. One big name.

I don't know, in 2025, if there's a big mainstream household-name performer who's doing butch the way Bruce Springsteen and James Dean did butch who could stand as the counterpart for Chappell Roan.

But I do know that a better femme comparison/counterpart for Dean Winchester's butch would be - hear me out - Miss Piggy.

Was brewing up a joke about Midwestern lesbians going one of two ways (Chappell Roan or Dean Winchester) and then I realised this was but the Platonic cave-shadow of Dolly Parton and Bruce Springsteen, and then I got caught up in Marilyn Monroe and James Dean, and Joan Crawford in the black cowboy shirt in Johnny Guitar, and now I'm suspicious that what I have would be less a joke and more a genuine nugget of queer theory if it didn't, y'know. Still have Dean Winchester in there.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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[gatheredfates]

Playerscope, modding and the hunt for aesthetic: why you should be more upset about mods and community expectations than you already are.

I love that this sounds like an academic paper but HONESTLYYYY. I need to put my thoughts to paper in regards to my burnout with xiv, otherwise I think I'll go insane. This is a controversial yet brave post. I am well aware that I partake in some of the things I'm going to be critiquing; aka, "thank you, dinklebottom, we live in a society." I'm also not critiquing mods from a space of offering more accessibility to people and/or facilitating representation not currently offered within the context of the game. There is nuance to every discussion and I'm coming at this from an overarching view around mods and community expectations/standards rather than player joy. I hope this makes sense. I'm also predominately writing from a roleplay perspective, though I'm sure a lot of what I end up saying can reflect in the art party/social space. Just know if I haven't mentioned the latter it's because that's not my scene and I don't pretend to know otherwise.

Anyway. For those who don't know, there's a new mod that's causing some strife in the xiv community called Playerscope. Here is the reddit thread about it. I'm not going to be talking too much about the mod in general because that's not the point of this post, but seeing discussion around it today just made me feel more exhausted than I already am when it comes to modding and the xiv community around it. It made me realise... I'm actually really sick to death of mods. I'm sick to death of what they're doing to the community when it comes to gatekeeping, policing and in general the interactions we have with each other in the community.

Let me explain: I wrote a post about the roleplay mod on bsky that kind of articulates at a surface level what I mean.

I think what makes me sad, which I'm sure is echoed by a lot of people, is that mods feel like the standard now rather than an option and that there's a certain expectation for people to have them if they want to engage with facets of the community—whether intentional or not.

Unlike XIV, WoW has a supported mod scene (within reason) and TRP 2 and the like have been accepted for years now. In a space where people can't slap on an RP tag, having that tool readily identifies you as a writer/roleplayer and you can include as much or as little of your character as you like. The general idea is if you have one of these tools enabled, you're a roleplayer to some capacity. You can dress up the profile to a certain degree, you can add links and supported pictures, but you're mostly reliant on what you put to paper in regards to your character. Even then, I find filling out what my character is doing currently and marking the rest as a WIP doesn't necessarily exclude me from roleplay if I want to find it. A lot of people will do that and a super simple description to incite interest around their oc.

These days in XIV... I don't know. I do think communities have gotten more insular—it's why I'm so pedantic about trying to find them for the Compendium—but I also think mods and, to a certain extent, the 'nightclub' scene have gotten in the way of it as well. My argument is such.

I want to go to an event (for example sake, I'll call it Seascape). In order to fully participate, I may need:

Their discord.

A roleplay addon.

A carrd/google site/etc.

Their synchshell (including mods, mare and everything else)

Potentially a mod of some description so people know I can see theirs (and vice versa).

Also that your mod isn't made by a shitty person.

Appropriate understanding of the scene/social space.

Some luck and a prayer that it's an inclusive space and not a closed rp group advertising as being open and/or a mod showcase advertising itself as something different.

Like??? Holy shit you guys. If you are someone who doesn't want to mod because you're worried about repercussions it really just feels like a big 'fuck you, good luck'.

And let me be clear, not every community is like this. I'm incredibly lucky to have found fantastic roleplay within my own rp event/community, I have great friends who run awesome, inclusive events for people of any skill (writing or otherwise) and I do fully believe you can just enable the rp tag and find fun, fulfilling roleplay. But I've also found the above a lot of times, too. I've had people point-blank get mad at my partner because he won't install mods and try to exclude and/or circumvent him in spaces. It's weird. I've been to events where the only time I felt like I got proper interaction(s) was when I joined the aforementioned, even if I have my character's profile linked in my about. It's weird.

Honestly, no wonder new roleplayers feel overwhelmed. Not only do they have to learn roleplay etiquette, they have to be a mod expert overnight? It feels less about what someone can bring to the table as far as a story but what mods they can install to either look cool or pass an unspoken social barrier. As much as I'm down bad for aesthetic and looking the part, I hate it being at the cost of accessibility and fun for someone else.

Arguably it's the same for gposing and the like as well, which contributes to my exhaustion alongside all the graphical changes and I just. I'm gnawing at the bars of my cage.

I don't think it's going to change and arguably it's more of a Twitter/X issue than a Tumblr, one but Tumblr lets me write mini essays and Twitter will tell me to kms.

Ergo, I'll go with the essay-writing platform.

Anyway, I guess this is just a reminder that you don't need 4596419651 mods to be in the community and that people should be more vigilant on including people who don't have them for whatever reason, provided they operate in good-faith and want to contribute. I think we're careening to a slippery slope of expectation for something unsupported and I don't like it.

[rubiehart]

DARLIN’ YOU SEND ME…

pairing: wife!reader x husband!jj maybank

summary: you’re feeling insecure about your pregnancy body, jj is quick to rectify that…

warnings: descriptions of real bodies, reader is insecure about her pregnant body, jj jokes about drinking readers breast milk?, allusions to sex, praise kink goes off.

a/n: wanted this to be more angsty but couldn’t bring myself to do it, personally i’ve never had a baby so of course i can’t particularly know what goes through a new mother’s head in moments like these, but i hope i did the topic justice! lmk and hope you love ♡︎

♪ You Send Me - Otis Redding ♪

JJ grips his toolbox tighter in his right hand, the litter of silver rings adorning his fingers scratching against the plastic of the handle, most he’d been wearing since he was a kid, some gifted by you, some he’d stolen. His wedding ring sits on his fourth finger, engraved with waves and your initials.

His heavy boots trudge against the wooden steps to your little home as he whistles casually to himself, some song he’d heard on the radio, or maybe from you, he’s not quite sure and he doesn’t give it enough thought before he’s wiping off his boots on the little ‘Welcome’ mat before letting himself inside.

Instead of being met with the sight of his beautiful wife on the couch, or in the kitchen cooking up something delectable. Instead, he’s met with stillness.

His eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing down his toolbox on the dining table, which is littered with toys, and upon a quick glance around the house, pretty much everywhere else is a mess of dress up gowns and baby dolls, curtesy of his own little whirlwind, his baby girl Quinnie. He shrugs off his flannel to reveal his slightly grease stained wife beater underneath, licking once over his lips like he did when he was thinking, wondering where you are.

Then, all his questions are answered as you come around the corner from the bedroom, wearing just one of his old threadbare shirts, the neckline a little torn and stretched from where you’d cut it to make it an off the shoulder fit when you were around seventeen, and a pair of cotton underwear that hugs your newly thick thighs, the fat jiggling softly in the warm light with each step you take closer to him.

The ‘J’ necklace he’d bought you for your first anniversary hangs between your milk heavy breasts concealed by your t-shirt. Your tired eyes land on his in the low lighting , eyelashes looking longer and darker in this light, and he smiles softly at the image of his beautiful wife as you drag your bare feet across the creaky floorboards to meet him in the entryway.

His blue eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you, his shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders, but the fabric stretched tight across your full breasts. He meets your eyes with an appreciative hum and quickly closes the distance between you, pulling you into a sweet embrace in his strong arms, caging you in and the pressure against your tired body feels nice.

“Already put Quinn down.” You mumble against his cotton covered chest, feeling him press his lips to your crown, the light stubble on his chin rubbing against the tender flesh. Your eyelashes flutter closed at the sensation, sighing softly against him and then taking a deep breath, the scent of him filling your nostrils: sea salt, a hint of sweat and the last hints of the old spice cologne he’d patted on this morning, the same one that had filled your senses that morning when he’d given you a soft kiss to your sleeping cheek and left for work.

JJ let’s out a soft breath of laughter into your hair, hands trailing down your sides and landing on your hips, one hand dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest his palm against your lower back, needing to feel closer to you than he already is. Other hand squeezing affectionally at your hip.

“Always bein’ super mom, huh? That’s my girl.”

Your heart flutters a little at his words, his intentions surface level but it hits a little deeper considering you’d been having doubts about your capabilities with Quinn, and as a mother in general, especially with another baby on the way now. The validation that you still are still his girl ,after everything.

He can feel the subtle shift in your embrace, the way you cling a little tighter, chest pressed to his a little more, has him wondering if he’s done something. He pulls back slightly, hands moving up to your upper arms, thumb stroking softly over the soft skin as he searches your eyes for a hint of anything you’re hiding beneath the surface.

“You okay, mama?”

Your eyes flick up to his, lashes kissing the heavens and it always makes his heart grow a little fonder each time you look at him like he hung the moon and stars, the height difference only fuelling the fire in his heart, and seemingly also in his lower abdomen. “‘M okay, Jayj.”

His hands move up lovingly and his calloused thumb runs across your cheekbone softly, not fully convinced but knows not to push you when you’re closed off like this. “You sure? ‘Cause you know when I see those wheels turning in that head o’ yours..”

His free hand moves a little rapidly, silver bands glinting in the light and you smile fondly at the blonde boy. The hand that’s still against your face is a glimpse of his softer side and you lean into his touch, eye fluttering closed for a second as you hum contently. “‘M sure.”

JJ let’s out a soft defeated sigh, it’s not like he wasn’t anticipating that exact answer though. His thumb stays creasing the soft skin of your face as he looks at you with a concerned expression, eyebrows drawn together.

“Promise me you’ll tell if anythin’s wrong, yeah? I can tell when you’re not yourself and it drives me crazy not knowin’ whats goin’ on.”

“Promise.” You mumble, blinking a little slow as tiredness overtakes you, standing on your toes, legs a little wobbly to press a soft kiss to his chapped lips, your softer ones making him melt as he feels the swell of your bump against his lower stomach. You smell like baby powder and Quinn’s lavender lotion, he notes.

He wraps his arms around your waist, muscles of his tan forearms rippling under the skin, he rests his chin on top of your head and breathes you in again. “Good.” He seals it with a soft peck to your lips when you pull away, much to his dismay. “Why don’t ya go sit down an’ Ill make us some dinner. You must be starvin’.” He kisses at your temple softly and sends you off with an affectionate tap to your ass.

You let him brush past you into the moonlit kitchen, taking a seat at the toy littered dinner table, letting out a sigh as you push them all to one side. The room is only illuminated by the warm lamp in the corner of the connected living room, and it highlights the muscles in his back as he slings a rag over his shoulder. You pull one leg up to your chest on the chair, chin rested against your knee as you eye him with a soft appreciative smile of your husband.

“How was work?” You keep your volume low, aware of Quinn’s sleeping form just down the hall, one hand comes to rest against your bump against the threadbare t-shirt.

JJ flashes you a soft smile over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, stirring something fragrant in a pot on the stove. “Eh, the usual. Guy showed up with a flat tire, some lady spilled coffee all over her Sedan’s interior.. Ain’t never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”

You let a soft breath of laughter through your nose, stroking your thumb softly over over your bump underneath your shirt, letting a comfortable silence fall over your little family as he works on dinner to feed his babies, you and little man, excusing your sleeping two year old down the hall.

After a while, JJ plates to two servings of steaming hot pasta with marinara and brings them over to the table, and you’re salivating at this point as the delectable smell fills your nose. He sets a plate down in front of you and takes his seat across from yours.

“Eat up, mama. Gotta keep that energy up for little man in there.”

Your eyes light up at the sight of the steaming dish, only really now realising how hungry you actually were, too caught up with Quinn all day to even think about your own needs. “Thankyou, baby.” You hum, reaching for a fork to dig in.

JJ watches you dig in hungrily, one arm wrapped around your shin and the other forking at your pasta, a soft smile tugging at his lips at the sight of you eating a proper meal. He starts to eat his own but keeps half an eye on you the whole time. He reaches for his drink, muscles in his forearms rippling as he takes a sip and sets it back down, licking over his bottom lip once before he speaks.

“You talk to your mom today?”

Your eyes flick up from your plate, sucking up a string of pasta as you shake your head, brows furrowed. You swallow it down before speaking. “Why?”

He sets his glass down, his expression turning slightly worried. He knows you and your moms relationship isn’t the best, considering the whole dating, marrying and starting a family with the one and only JJ Maybank situation..

“No reason, just wondered. She hasn’t been callin’ as much lately, thought maybe y’all talked or somethin’.”

He stabs his fork into the pasta, twisting the long strings around it absently. You shrug, reflectively stabbing at a piece of chicken, not really having an answer for him.

His eyebrows pull together as he observes your overly nonchalant demeanour. He opens his mouth as if to press the matter further, but hesitates, deciding against it for now. Instead, he forces a small smile and changed the subject, nodding towards your belly with a cheekful of pasta.

Your eyes flick up to his as he begins to speak, one hand subconsciously drifting to your growing bump, stroking a gentle thumb over the skin through the cotton.

“How’s our little guy doin’ in there? You feelin’ him movin’ around much today?” JJ asks, seeming all enthusiastic and excited at the chance to hear about his baby, you smile smally at his reaction.

“Mhm, like crazy.” You hum, hand still resting against your bump. “Gotta be doin’ flips in there or somethin’.”

His face lights up at the news of your son’s energetic movements, and you almost laugh about how alike he is to his daddy in that sense. Without hesitation, JJ stands up and moves around to your side of the table, crouching down and placing one hand over yours on your stomach, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Can you feel him kickin’ right now?”

You shake your head with a soft smile and a tender heart, chewing your last bite and discarding your fork with a soft clatter onto your plate. “Think he’s sleepin’ right now, J.”

JJ’s face falls slightly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He keeps his hand on your belly though, giving in a gentle pat as he stands from his crouching position hands on his knees.

“‘S okay babe. He’s just conservin’ his energy for later, I bet.”

“Yeah, when I’m trynna sleep.” You groan lightheartedly, feeling him laugh too as he pressed a soft kiss to your bump, then to your temple before moving to start clearing away the dishes.

He carries the plates over to the sink and peers over his shoulder at you, stretching your arms on the chair, yawning softly, not even aware of his appreciative gaze. “You tired, darlin’?”

Your heart flutters at the pet name, one he’d only really started calling you after you’d gotten married, and it makes you feel all warm inside each and every time. “A little.” You sigh through a yawn, lifting your shirt from your stomach and your eyebrows furrow at the sight.

“Look,” You mumble, bare feet tapping against the floor as you wander over to him at the sink. “My stretch marks are gettin’ so bad.”

He sets the plate down he was scrubbing and turns to face you, his eyes immediately dropping to the area of interest. He reaches out and gently traced one of the marks with his finger, his expression softening. “They’re just part of bein’ a mama, baby. They don’t define ya.”

Your eyes meet his and they soften with love for your sweet boy, and you nod shallowly with a defeated sigh. “I know, ‘s just annoying.” You huff, letting the shirt that was once his drop back down over your bump.

JJ senses your disappointment and he’s already scheming, because there’s no way on this earth he’s letting his baby mama walk around thinking she’s anything less than perfect. “Hey,” He mumbles, arms wrapping around your waist to bring you into a gentle hug, being aware of your swelling belly between the two of you. “C’mere,”

“Let me see ‘em again.” He says gently, pulling you away gently by your shoulders to look him in the eye, moonlight bathing his angular face in a dark blue hue. “Show me one more time.”

“Why?” You mumble, eyebrows drawn together softly in confusion, but the feeling burning inside of you overtakes any need for an answer as you lift the cotton material, soft eyes trained on his face for a reaction.

His eyes soften as he leans down, expression matching yours as he presses his lips against each and every one, his hands moving softly over the skin. “Because I wanna make sure you know how fuckin’ beautiful they are on you, pretty girl. How much I love seein’ em on my girl.

You feel yourself getting a little emotional as you watch your six foot husband pepper gentle kisses all over your bump, calling you his girl and telling you how beautiful you are. Makes you wanna cry. You swallow thickly and your hands stay by your sides, pads of your fingers tapping against each other in a nervous tick.

He hears you sniffle and is immediately standing back up to his full height, cupping your soft face in his calloused hands. “Hey…you don’t gotta cry, sweetheart. You’re carryin’ our baby, makin’ me the happiest god damn man alive. These marks? They’re just-”

You watch him, eyes gleaming with tears and full of love as you cut him off, voice a little gravelly.

His blue eyes identically well up with unshed tears, mirroring your own emotional state. He pulls you into his strong arms, holding you tightly against his broad chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I love you too, mama.”

Your bump presses comfortably against his firm abs, milk heavy tits pressed against his chest as you breathe slowly, basking in the feeling of being in the arms of the absolute love of your life. After a beat, you whisper into the still air. “Will you shower me?”

A slight smile crosses his face at your whispered question, one hand moving to slowly caress your hair. “Yes ma’am,” He whispers back, hands moving to scoop you up from under your thighs, you’re unsteady for a moment, but then it’s like nothing’s changed as you wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist as he carries you towards the bathroom.

“Let’s get you clean, pretty girl.” He murmurs as you pass the threshold of the bathroom, voice filled with tenderness, careful to keep his volume down for the sake of your sleeping toddler down the hall.

His movements are slow and steady as he sets you on your feet, knowing how unbalanced you can be when you’re this pregnant. He runs a soft hand over your bump as he looks you in your eyes, the lighting in the bathroom a little more fluorescent and it makes you wanna close your eyes. “You needa sit down while I get everythin’ ready?”

You nod softly but he didn’t need to wait for an answer because he’s already lowering you gently onto the closed toilet seat lid, then he gives you a quick peck on your lips before turning towards the shower. He starts to pick out all your favourite products, knowing you haven’t had time for a proper shower since the last time he did it for you, which come to think of it was only last week.

He’s speedy on his feet, knowing you’re probably not the most comfortable where you’re currently sitting, he puts up your favourite hair products and body wash, before turning back to you with a proud smile.

“All set, mama.”

“Can y’ undress me?” You mumble, pawing at your eye as you stand on wobbly feet, the hem of the shirt falling at your mid thighs, leaving a little peek of your cotton panties on display.

His eyes warm with affection as he nods, carefully lifting the t-shirt up and over your head, revealing your full heavy breasts and swollen belly. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly peeling them down your legs as you lift each foot for him.

You’re a little insecure, naturally, but you’re far too tired to attempt to cover yourself up like normal, and you remind yourself that it’s JJ, and you never need to hide from him. The steam begins to fog up the bathroom a little as you stand there naked, arms by your side as you watch him, eyes soft.

He takes a moment to drink in the sight of his pregnant wife, his eyes roaming over your swollen belly and the fullness of your breasts. He strips himself off fast, and it’s equally humorous and sexy at how eager he is. Then he bends down with a soft sigh, forearms resting under your thighs as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, cradling you in his arms as he walks towards the shower.

“‘M I too heavy?” You mumble softly, lips pressed to his shoulder, arms thrown around his neck, naked body pressed against his own bare one as he carries you towards the shower.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he steps into the warm spray of the shower, voice echoing a little: “Never, mama. You're perfect just the way you are." He sets you down gently on the built-in bench, making sure you're stable before stepping back to wet his own hair.

You place your hands in your lap with a soft smile, feeling the warm air hit you as you sit on the bench, watching with love sick eyes as he stands under the spray, muscular, tall body in display, looking like some kind of greek God.

Noticing your adoring gaze, JJ gives you a playful wink, running his hands through his damp hair. "Like what you see, gorgeous?" he teases with a smirk, moving closer under the guise of washing off, but really just stealing glances at your voluptuous form.

You giggle all flustered, like it’s your first time seeing him naked, like he hasn’t been your husband for nearly three years and your boyfriend even longer.

His smirk widens as he sees your flustered reaction, making him feel like the most desired man in the world. He steps closer, crouching down in front of you so he's eye level with you sitting on the bench. "Still think I'm handsome?"

“The most.” You smile, breasts sitting heavy on your chest, droplets of milk beading at your nipples as you smile at him, cheeks blushed.

Hes immediately scooping you back up onto your feet, arm draped around your waist as he brings you under the warm stream with him, keeping an arm on you at all times to keep you steady.

His eyes immediately drop to your chest, noticing the milk beads forming at your nipples. His heart skips a beat as he reaches out, gently brushing his thumb over one of the beads, watching it break and roll down your areola. "Mama's got milk for me too, huh?"

You roll your eyes playfully at him, knowing the reason you’re so full of milk is because Quinn hasn’t nursed for a good few hours. “Don’t think it’s for you, J.”

He chuckles mischievously, leaning in closer and nuzzling his face between your breasts, inhaling your warm, lavendar-scented skin. "What if I asked nicely, though?" He looks up at you with puppy eyes, pretending to pout.

“Maybe if you said ‘pretty please’’.” You play along, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

As soon as your lips touch his, he loses all pretense, wrapping his arms around your back and deepening the kiss. He pulls you into his lap, sitting on the bench with you cradled against his chest as he continues to kiss you.

“N- I’m too heavy..” You mumble against his lips, trying to shuffle off of him in fear of crushing him, it’s a stupid idea, anyway, you’ve always been physically smaller than him, and he’s 220 pounds of muscle.

He halts your attempt to get up, firm hands grasping your hips as he holds you in place, meeting your gaze with amused determination. Ouch, baby. You underestimate me, damn.” He mumbles, one hand flying to his chest in mock offence.

“I bench more than you weigh." With a playful grin, he squeezes your thighs affectionately. Your heart flutters at his words, throat going a little dry. Something else seems to flutter too, between your legs, and JJ must feel it from your position on his lap.

His pupils dilate as he feels the flutter between your legs, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He spreads his legs wider, pulling you flush against him so you can feel his growing hardness pressing against your core.

Your chubby pussy lips spread around his hardness, head falling back a little, but you’re still protesting softly, the warm spray covering you both. “Jay- m’ serious- m’ too heavy.”

Smiling against your neck with knowing, tender amusement, he runs one hand up your back while the other supports your weight, pulling you even closer. "Stop trying to stop me, pretty girl. You know I love this body of yours - every inch of it."

Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of his lips against that spot that makes you melt, a soft whine leaving your lips. “Tell me you know.” He whisper against the skin, tongue darting out to lick against the side of your throat.

You hesitate for a second, arms around his neck tightening a little. “I.. I know, JJ. I know.” You rush out all in one breath, pebbled nipples brushing against his muscular chest.

One of his hands move to palm at one of your heavy breasts, lips not stopping their gentle worship of the soft skin of your neck as he speaks, breath hot against the sensitive skin. “Yeah? And don’t you ever forget it, mama. Can’t have my girl walkin’ round this house thinkin’ she’s anythin’ less than perfect, yeah? My beautiful girl.”

[emchante]

oh my god, why would you mention daniel cumming in his pants? that's like... way too hot 🫠

like the idea of older divorced dad daniel cumming in his pants like a goddamn teenager because that's just the effect you have on him?? yes. even better if it's a time where you're just fooling around and making out on the couch and grinding against each other. and he just can't help it and cums in his boxers, and he's maybe a little embarrassed about it before he realizes how hot you find it

oh nonnie you have me dead with this ask. it’s been marinating in my inbox for awhile now, and every time i see it.. i go a little feral. let’s jump back into this au, shall we?

18+ content below, minors dni.

it happens to daniel. a lot.

it’s been with him all his life, gets too excited over the smallest things. he remembers a time with his ex, cumming just from the dirty talk she had whispered in his ear, while being sat atop his lap. no grinding, no nothing. just the words were enough to send him over the edge.

and you? he thinks the issue has gotten worse since he first lay eyes on you. the time he watched you through his window like a perv, watching as you innocently fended to your garden? he could’ve came without the palming, but alas he needed to touch himself, trying to ground himself as he thought about the filthiest scenarios with you.

and now that you’re his.. well it happens all too often. the first time it happened though, he was more embarrassed than ever.

the night had started innocently enough. you had come over, opted to make dinner for him and the kids— nothing unusual. it was nice, it felt super domestic when you were all sat at the table, chewing away at the food with some small chatter in between.

it was as soon as the kids were upstairs though, that you were all over him. he hadn’t expected it, that you’d jump onto him. he caught you with ease, both hands holding your ass as he tried to kiss you back with as much energy you had put into it yourself.

he had to ask though, where this all suddenly came from. he tried to pull back, tried asking you about it, but your lips just kept attacking his. “sweetheart,” he tried, before being caught in another kiss. “i need to—” another kiss, “ask what’s going—” another, “on?” he finally finished, and you pulled your head back.

“what do you mean?” “don’t get me wrong, i love the attention.. i love this a lot. but it’s so sudden, what changed from dinner to now?” he asks, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips.

he really doesn’t remember what happened between then and getting to the couch. something about you complimenting him, how hot he looked when he wasn’t trying. he didn’t care though, because things were only getting hotter.

his back was against the couch pillows now, you on top of him as your lips fought for dominance. his large hands were resting on your hips, occasionally squeezing them to try distract you, trying to cheat his way into winning.

your hands were on his shoulders, gripped tightly onto them as you tried to hold your ground against him. it made it easy for to start grinding down onto him, seeing as you had a way to keep yourself stable.

you felt daniel falter, the grip on your hips loosening as his fingers went slack momentarily, along with his mouth. you had won the battle for dominance, tongue slipping into his mouth as your hips continued to grind rhythmically onto his. 

it takes a couple moments for daniel to snap out the daze, but when he comes back to his senses he’s replicating your movements, bucking his hips up to meet your moves. his hands find their way back to the original spot they were rested in before, putting more strength into making sure your clothed cunt was hitting against his erection.

he felt giddy, like he was on cloud nine. your tits bouncing in front of him, your cunt rubbing against his cock, your mouth owning his, and the soft praises that escaped you between breaths— it was all too much, really.

that’s all it took for him to cum right then and there in his boxers. his head tilted right back, eyes squeezing shut as his mouth once again went slack. the moans that escaped him were delightful, ranging from higher, more whine-like moans to deep, breathy groans. his hips continued to buck, though a stutter momentarily made it’s way into the rhythm as he rode out the orgasm completely.

you watched as he came down from his high, chest panting as his eyes couldn’t open fully from being in such a daze. it took him a minute before he realised what had happened, the sticky feeling in his boxers reminding him where he was.

his eyes widened as he tried to sit himself up properly, but with you still on top of him he didn’t make much progress, and his eyes warily looked into your own.

your hand moved up to cup his face, thumb slowly dragging over his cheek before teasing his lips gently. “what’s up, dan?” you asked dragging your thumb off his lip, letting it pop back into place. you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed, a gulp evidently just passing.

“i— come on, sweetheart,” he starts, shaking his head lightly as he sighs. “i fucking came in my boxers like a teen. you’ve got to understand my issue?” he laughs dryly, anticipating the laugh that’ll escape you. whether it’s a teasing laugh or a grossed out laugh, he doesn’t want to know.

that’s why it surprises him when it doesn’t come, and you’re just watching him with a raised brow. “why is that an issue, dan?” you ask him, allowing your free hand to trail down his body. past his shirt, lingering over his crotch before moving to the waistband of his slacks and boxers, and slipping your hand in.

you feel his cock already hardening again, as well as the slight jerk of his hips. still sensitive. “this,” you start, squeezing his cock as he lets out a low groan and tries to squeeze his thighs together, “is fucking hot, daniel. you have no idea” you murmur, moving your face right infront of his again.

“let me show you how much i love it.”

so.. divorced dad! daniel is back..? 👀 neglected our resident dilf for too long! he’s back with a bang<3

[baepsays]

Domesticity is a privilege, and privilege is attracted to Gojo Satoru.

Wait we might need to reiterate that. Because if privilege is attracted to Satoru, and being domestic with the love your life is a privilege — how come he hasn't attracted that wishful life yet!?

I mean he's already privileged (in capitalistic and aesthetic sense), he is hopelessly in love with you, so by default next outcome in this equation must be—you, him, and your cats, chilling in your bed. Just watching the rerun of your overwatched favourite show while the cats cuddle up to you two.

Now the only problem is despite being capitally and aesthetically blessed by default, the whole wooing the love of your life thing doesn't happen by staring at them from a distance while making up little scenarios in your head —how your first date would go, your first kiss, what if you met back in high school, meeting the parents, getting their blessings, getting married, and adopting two cats.

You might call him pathetic, but do not worry his friends do not shy away from voicing that fact out every two seconds. Because every two seconds he's letting out a big sigh and going "y/n would like that." or,

"y/n should try this."

"y/n"-

You get the gist of it. Really- thoughtful of him.

So this brings us here, THE Gojo Satoru sitting on the curb of the sidewalk infront of your building. With a bouquet in his hands, decked up in a three piece (probably Italian) custom suit, tie is tied rather not how a tie should be tied. But it works for him. Everything works for him.

Now do not take him for a creep! He's a gentleman of the highest stature. Gojo is actually waiting here for you for that date he secured with you after graciously asking you (practically begging you and with the help of Geto Suguru who made the dire mistake of introducing you to him in the first place).

"Satoru? What are you doing here?"

That is a valid question to have, to walk up to your building, exhausted after work and to see your date sitting outside your building, on the sidewalk nonetheless. Isn't he loaded? Where is his car even?

"Oh I was waiting for you! What are you doing out so late?" At this point he got up to stand face to face with you (took a lot of courage for him to do that!).

"I had to do overtime and, no, wait. Why are you waiting for me at 2 AM?

"Oh you know to pick you up for our date!"

"Satoru. That is tomorrow. I am supposed to see you at 4 PM tomorrow. Were you planning on to camp out here all night? where is your car??" (my concern as well)

"First of all- I got too excited and I couldn't sleep. sooooo-" he stretches it on, what's about to come next couldn't possibly be any better.

"So I thought I'd put on the suit I bought for our date! Then I thought hmm well now if I sleep in this it'll get creases and I won't have much time to get it ironed. Then I saw the flowers, I was growing to give you, sort of wilting away. And I couldn't possibly give you dead flowers for our first date! And I was waiting in my car, then it got towed away, and-"

"STOP."

What do you even do in this situation? Tell him to go home? How is he going to do that with practically no public transport working at this hour and his car gone. Even you barely caught the last train home. I mean any other individual would get weirded out, get angry, and upset. But you, well,

"How about instant ramen and a movie for a first date, on my couch?"

I suppose you are attracted to Gojo Satoru just as much as privilege is attracted to him. And oh what a privilege it is to be loved and to be wanted like that one soft blanket you just want to snuggle up into at the end of the day.

[ikeuki]

is riki in the room with us . . . ? / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ grumpy x sunshine ; fluff/crack, light cursing + idiot-icy — ( wordcount ) 1.1k

ᯓ★ ikueki’s note. he’s sooooo ‘smh’ it hurts ; riki trying to act cool & failing + making a fool out of himself pt.1 !

synopsis. introducing riki’s new seatpartner: you! this is either the best or worst decision you’ve ever made.

“oh ms. y/l/n! i thought you were transferring next week?” the teacher spoke.

“oh i apologize, my counselor decided to move me today, so i would not miss any more material than necessary.” you replied with such sweetness. you were apologizing for a ‘mistake’ that wasn’t even your fault.

all of the students, girls and boys, stared in awe at your almost gleaming presence. “well no worries—for the better if anything! why don’t you go sit down in any empty seat,” the teacher continued, gesturing to the class.

you bowed and scanned the room for an empty seat. there was one by the front of the class, but felt uncomfortable with feeling pressured to raise your hand for every question. especially when there was an obviously smart looking kid sitting in the seat beside it—meaning you would be constantly competing with him for #1.

so you settled for the other one in the back, next to some sleeping kid. all the students’ eyes fell upon you as you made your way to the back row. they all knew your name, your face, everything!

not only were you ranked second of the entire school (first being yang jungwon), you were known to be the school sweetheart. always helping other students study, participating in volunteer work, a member of student council, and on both the tennis and volleyball team.

your résumé was quite impressive. not to mention in the social surroundings as well. every boy wanted to go out with you and every girl wanted to be your friend. there was just a special bubble you seemed to be in that everyone wanted to join!

click. clack. click.

riki’s mind was playing tricks on him, replaying the little clicks your heels made in that gym last friday. but just then the prominent vanilla scent flooded his senses.

he lifted his head, taking a deep breath and losing his head for possible scare methods. until he was met with a familiar yet unfamiliar face.

you didn’t even notice that your unknown seat partner had woken up, too focused on taking notes. riki observed your neatly arranged desk. your pastel colored pencil case at the top, with two notebooks laid out in front of you. the math textbook was next to those and you were writing at the speed of light. in the most neatest handwriting riki had ever seen!

to be fair, he’s only ever seen heeseung and jake’s writing which were not much to compare to.

his eyes slowly wandered from your organized desk to your sparkly gel pen writing formula after formula. he soon found himself admiring looking directly into your eyes, realizing he was caught staring.

“can i help you?” you whispered, staring straight back at the frozen boy.

riki was speechless for the first time ever. no snarky comments or insults. no eye rolls or scoffs.

he was star-struck.

you titled your head to the side, smiling. you noticed a faint rosy blush on his cheeks as he looked at you with wide eyes. the tension could’ve been cut with a knife, so you took the chance to do it first.

“oh! actually i wanted to thank you!” you exclaimed and bent down to your backpack, rummaging through the bag.

“thank me?” riki finally spoke, narrowing his eyebrows. he sat up straight, facing you with his entire body and completely disregarding the teacher’s lecture in the front of the class.

you popped back up and turned to him with your school id in hand. “i listened to your advice and smiled ‘like i always do’” you put air quotes around riki’s words from the gym.

riki leaned in slightly to look at the little plastic card on your shared desk. you had such a natural yet cheery smile that almost put one on his face from just looking at it. but he stopped himself.

instead he looked up to see your face, inches away from his.

your attractive scent filled his senses and he could see the little sparkles decorating your eyelids. his eyes naturally trailed from your brightly-lit eyes to your rosy cheeks and down to your freshly glossed lips. as if on cue, your lips curled into a small smile and he found himself entranced.

flustered, he quickly cleared his throat and pulled back. he acted like there was something terribly wrong with his throat. just then, he did actually start choking a bit. enough for the entire class to go silent and turn back to yours and riki’s desks.

“mr. nishimura? are you alright back there?” the teacher asked, clearly unamused at the boy who always sleeps in class.

“are you okay? do you want some water?” you subconsciously put a hand on his arm in order to get his attention.

which you certainly did…!

riki froze and looked down at your hand.

your hand. on his arm.

he immediately stopped “choking” and awkwardly realized the entire class watching him. “oh…n-no i’m okay.” smooth.

“good.” the teacher replied coldly and returned to the lesson.

“are you sure?” you inquired yet again, your hand remaining in place.

what the hell was wrong with him? why did he feel sweaty and weird? why couldn’t he think? why was he stuttering like an idiot in front of you, trying to think of an answer?

more importantly, why did he care?

he blinked back his honest thoughts and shielded them with his cool-guy persona once again.

“yeah. i’m fine.” he brushed off, a little colder than he wanted.

you withdrew your hand. the corners of your lips faltering a little at his harsh tone. if there was one thing you knew, it was to know when you were not wanted. riki noticed the slight change in your face though, you didn’t want to show your hurt expression but he could tell from your eyes that you didn’t expect his reaction.

however, riki continued with his tough-guy act. he folded his arms and slumped back in his chair, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. when in all honesty, he did care. he cared a lot—about what you thought for some weird reason.

you took his response as a sign to cut the conversation short “anyways, i owe you one with the whole picture thing,” you whispered and retracted the school id. riki’s eyes betrayed his actions though, following your adorable id picture all the way to your pencil pouch and you zipping it up in there.

you simply returned to your note-taking as if your interaction didn’t just completely obliterate riki’s world. your eyes stayed on the blackboard ahead the rest of class, not even sparing a little glance to your seat partner. riki peeled his eyes off you and forced himself to stare out the window.

what was he looking at? nothing. absolutely nothing.

he just tried to think about something. anything!

but the clouds began floating together to form mushy hearts. birds flew by, four pairs of two all resting on a tree branch by couple. and what was that now? a rainbow?!

god, it must be the sleep deprivation kicking in, riki thought.

riki thought wrong.

[toyourheartandback]

THOUGHT OF YOU (18+)

luke castellan x reader

even after everything he has done and everything he will be doing you can’t say no to luke

word count: 2.13k

MDNI! warnings: smut, foreplay, p in a v, sweet loving sex (because i’m a romantic sorry), reader has a female anatomy and bad english as always

a/n: don’t judge pls, it took me months to write this between exams and life being shitty. i just hope you like it and i apologize for not being able to be active :(

exam season was finally over. you were just returning home after going out with your classmates, celebrating before everyone separated for the summer. exhausted and slightly tipsy, you fumbled in the dim hallway, desperately searching your apartment keys. as you reached to unlock the door, your halfblood’s instincts flared to warn you that something was wrong. someone had picked the lock of your house.

your heart raced as you slipped the knife hidden from your boot and pushed the door open, stepping inside. the living room was dimly lit, but you knew what to expect. luke castellan was there, leaning casually against the back of your sofa, as though he belonged. without hesitation, you pressed the blade to his neck. he still smelled like woodsmoke and peanut butter, a scent that once smelled like home. "i should kill you right now," he didn’t flinch, instead he chuckled at your words, the low vibration making his skin graze the edge of your weapon.

"i'm going to lay this on the couch" he smirked as you let him slowly unclasp viper from his belt and set it down as promised, his dark brown eyes never leaving yours. they had always been so beautiful, but they didn't even look like luke's anymore. your bodies were as close as they could get without touching and you could feel the cold radiating from his, so unusual for the boy you once used to snuggle with on chilly nights at camp. "It's just me, toots" his words weren't making sense to you.

he resembled the son of hermes you loved with those dark messy curls and tanned skin, but at the same time he looked nothing like him. luke castellan wasn't the sweet boy who helped you bake cookies for young campers anymore, but a traitor to the gods and to camp halfblood. he should have been that to you too, after everything you knew he had done to annabeth, chris, and everyone you loved. "how do I know he isn't also here?", because there was no way those things were actually done by your tender and perfect luke. it must have been the lord of the titans. your luke would never leave you.

his hands moved slowly, wrapping around yours to gently pry the knife from your grasp and setting it down beside viper on the sofa. "not tonight" luke murmured, his voice softer now. he pulled you closer, trailing every inch of your figure with his cold touch until he reached your waist, sending a shiver through you. your arms instinctively went to his shoulders, an old habit you couldn't seem to break. his nose brushed yours, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes locked on you like he was starving.

you knew you should end this. you should take advantage of his vulnerability, strike him down and put an end to the war. but you also longed for the way luke tasted of butter chapstick. you fingers curled into his t-shirt and before you could stop yourself your lips met his. he tangled his hand in your hair, making you moan as he deepened the kiss exactly the same way he knew you liked. "oh, i missed this so much," he murmured softly against your mouth, his mouth breaking slightly, before connecting with you again. he tapped gently on your thigh, a silent request, and you gave in, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried to your bedroom. the way he moved and the way your body fit against his was muscle memory. almost a year had passed since the last time he had been here, but it felt like no time at all.

the moment your back hit the mattress, luke's hands slid under your dress as he hovered over you. "are you sure?" he asked, toying with the strings of your panties, pulling back from your lips just enough to talk as his eyes were searching for any hesitation. your mind was foggy and the guilt buried too deep to surface, so you answered yes. you mostly plead him to touch you. that was all he needed. he tugged your underwear down and kissed his way along your neck, his lips exploring every inch of your skin. his mouth was frantic and desperate like he was trying to memorize you.

luke knelt over the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders as his lips trailed up your inner thighs. his hands pinned you down while his mouth inched closer to your core, your breathing growing heavier with anticipation. "castellan, you better fucking stop being a tease" you squirmed beneath him, your voice thick with need, as he smirked at your words and dragged his tongue along your folds. the boy was taking his sweet time with you, savoring every part of you, knowing full well you would have kicked him out long ago if you didn't want this as much as he did. you groaned and pulled him closer by his soft hair.

he pressed his mouth against your clit, his tongue twisting circles over it that sent waves of pleasure trough you. a loud sigh left your lips and your head fell back against the mattress. your fingers tangled in his messy curls as you gripped tightly as you were pleading him for more. his playful dark eyes met yours as his chin glistened already with your arousal. “what do you want from me, toots?” his voice low and mischievous, while his thumb was playing with you bundle of nerves. he was never going to stop being a fucking tease. “i want you” you whimpered, trying to desperately pull him closer for a kiss as you cupped his flushed cheeks. he obliged with a brief provoking peck before pulling back with a grin on his face. “how?” he asked amused. “inside of me” you breathed, almost a whisper. “please”

you gasped sharply, your breath hitching as you suddenly felt two of his finger slide inside you. “fuck,” you exclaimed when luke started to pump them, hitting the spot that makes you feel your stomach twist. “you know that’s not what i wanted” you managed to protest between breathy moans, your words faltering under the sweet assault of his lips on your neck. he only chuckled softly between kisses, his warm breath fanning against your skin. his free hand roamed over your chest, fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress. “patience” he murmured as he tugged down the straps with ease to expose your breasts to the cool air. “i told you,” his lips found one of your nipples and without hesitation he sucked gently, drawing a gasp from you. “we have the whole night for ourselves.”

this time you let his head dip between your legs without protesting. his tongue and fingers were working perfectly together, drawing you closer and closer to your edge. his strong grip was pinning you down on the bed by your stomach as your mind started to feel hazy and your core seemed to be twisting and unraveling at once. by the time you voice was reduced to broken gasps and choked breaths and your hands were grabbing the fresh sheets beneath you to anchor yourself, you let your orgasm hit tearing through you like a storm. luke didn’t seem to be fully satisfied as he continued at his relentless pace, making you come a second time with a choked cry and a guttural, uncontrollable scream.

luke finally let you go, sweeping with his tongue your pleasure off his fingers and face to savor every trace of you. you were still trembling, struggling to steady yourself, when his low laugh broke the silence. “i missed your taste so fucking much” he murmured, his words full with adoration as his gaze locked onto yours. his eyes were so deep and tender, that for a fleeting moment it reminded you of the boy you fell in love back at camp. without thinking, you let yourself collapse into his lap, your knees pressing into cold and hard floor beneath the both of you, holding the sweet head counselor of the hermes’ cabin into your arms. your palm found his cheek as your finger traced his beautiful scar. “i miss you” you breathed, the confession slipping past your lips before you could stop it. the truth that you were trying to hide from everyone, even yourself, for so long made you feel both terrified and liberated.

luke’s brows furrowed in a mix of awe and longing, and his stare deepened, darkened, as though he was memorizing every inch of you. then, without hesitation, he closed the space between you in a raw, desperate and messy kiss. his mouth moved against yours with an open and unrestrained hunger as if he was trying to pour all of his emotions into this very moment. he separated from you not to hesitate, but only to get rid of your annoying dress and you mirrored his urgency to strip him of his equally irritating clothes. you were already out of breath again as his strong hands gripped your hips and pulled you against him, making you gasp at the feeling of his erection humping your core. “luke,” you whispered, your mouth trembling between kisses. “i need you” he didn’t waste a second to reach the condom in your second drawer from the top near your bed that he knew all too well of and roll it on himself without his gaze ever leaving yours.

you steadied yourself with an hand on his shoulders as he gently guided you down and you slowly took every inch of him. a gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of luke filling you completely, as perfect as he always fit like you two were made to be united by the gods themselves. he cupped your face, tangling his fingers into your hair, and pulled your foreheads together. “you mean everything to me” he murmured before kissing you. your chest tightened, for this night you let yourself believe his words, and started to roll your hips against his in search of the perfect rhythm.

each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing trough you, leaving you panting. your knees were bruising and scraping against the floor of your room. luke carefully moved your legs around him and lifted both of you on the bed behind you, pounding into you before your back could even meet the mattress. his soft moans and kind touch were the only thing keeping you grounded to the moment even as your mind was threatening to drift away under the overwhelming gratification of your bodies entwined. a whimper of his name escaped you like a prayer as your nails dug into the firm muscles of his back. his thrust grew faster, more urgent, as he approached his peak and with a groan he buried his head into the curve of your shoulder, his strong arms gripping your waist as if to anchor himself to you.

his hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he held on tightly, grounding himself as he reached his climax. his pushes were becoming sloppier, but were enough to get you through your edge following him as luke tenderly kissed every inch of your skin he could reach. “i love you” he whispered breathless into your lips. “i love you too” your voice was thick with emotions, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. if only he loved you more than his vengeance against the gods.

you gasped softly when he pulled away, leaving behind an hallow ache that mirrored the emptiness you had felt every day since he abandoned you. he discharged the condom carelessly on the floor before collapsing on the bed beside you, pulling you closer against his chest. luke’s warmth was both comforting and cruel. “can you stay until i fall asleep?” you asked, barely above a whisper as though your voice might shatter the fragile moment. your fingers traced aimless patterns on his skin in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. you were trying to keep yourself together, knowing that if you let yourself dwell on why he was here the tears would spill over. “like i always do” he promised, tugging the covers over your bodies, and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, pulling you closer as though he could keep the two of you together only with his bare hands.

but luke already had his mother’s blessing and the only thing left was your goodbye.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Seeing Stars 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world’s most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"I can't believe you won," Bonita chimes. 

"Uh, yeah, I told you to just claim the prize," you mutter. 

"And I told you," she pulls you off the subway, "it has to be the ticket holder." 

"Right. You could say you're me." 

"Didn't you read the email?" She huffs as you drag your feet behind her. You hate Manhattan. 

"I skimmed." 

"They have to check ID at the door. As your plus one, I had to submit a bunch of stuff. Didn't you?" She hooks her arm through yours as she urges you through the New York rush. 

You grumble. It's like the universe is laughing in your face. Or hers. It should've been her prize. She's the one who likes all that stuff. As much as you don't want to spit in her face, you're not very happy to spend a rare day off somewhere you don't want to be. 

You're a good friend. That's why you're doing this. That's it. You'll get through it for her. In spite of her. 

You find her waiting where she promised. She's taking selfies right outside the doors of Stark Tower, unbothered by those passing by. You nudge her and hiss, "you're in the way." 

"About time. You're almost late." She lowers her phone and bats her fake eye lashes at her. Oh, she went all out. You thought the sweater and jeans was a fine choice. 

"Almost, but I'm not," you chirp. 

"Lighten up! This is going to be the greatest days of our lives," she squeals and claps, sending her phone to the ground. You let a sigh out quietly. She's so happy. You'll keep the snide remarks to yourself. 

You bend to pick up her phone and hand it over. She snatches it and giggles, "I wonder if I could livestream the tour." 

"Just... enjoy it," you utter. You don't need her holding up her phone like a tourist. No shame, you swear. 

"Woah, hey," you stumble as someone clamours into you. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Guess I should've looked down." 

The man's hands cling to your arms as he keeps you on your feet. You pull away and spin to face him. Bonita makes an inhuman noise. 

It's him. Steve Rogers. Again. 

"You guys lost?" He asks. 

You look at Bonita. She vibrates with excitement, "um, we won! Er. Oh! We're here because we won the tour and you're supposed to be there and all the others and--" 

"Ha, yes, I am running behind." He says, “uh, I guess you can come in with me.” 

“Oh wow,” Bonita exclaims. “Thanks so much, Captain. I mean Mr. Rogers. No. Er...” 

“Steve’s fine,” he chuckles. “So, you two were at the convention?” 

“Yes, we got a photo,” she affirms. 

He opens the door and waves you ahead of him. You wait for Bonita to take the lead. You reluctantly follow as Steve tails you. 

“I thought you were familiar.” 

“Oh, no, you must meet so many people,” Bonita slows so that he can catch up and you sidle around them, happy enough to take the rear. 

“Eh, yeah, it can get a bit much.” 

“Sounds miserable,” you mutter, then cringe as you remember his super hearing. Oops. 

“I’m sure the rest are waiting,” he stops at a door and puts in a number on the keypad. It flashes red and buzzes. “Ugh, I always forget.” Instead, he moves to look into the dark lens higher up. An ultraviolet flare runs over his eye and the door unlocks. “I can doing that.” 

He opens the door again, a gentleman straight out of the 40s. Once more, you are stuck between the two of them. He points you down the hall to a private elevator. You get on. 

You bob impatiently as Bonita inserts herself between you and Steve. You stare at the reflective doors and let your vision blur. 

“So, um, is the shield here?” She asks. “Not to be lame or anything.” 

“Oh, sure, maybe you could see some of the prototype suits? I think there’s still a few hanging around,” Steve answers. 

“That’s so cool,” she chimes. 

You struggle not to roll your eyes. Instead, you focus and find another pair observing you in the mirrored surface before you. You quickly glance away from Steve’s gaze. 

Finally, your floor comes. You assume since the doors ding and Steve steps ahead of you. You follow him out into a spacious room. You can tell by the windows alone that it’s the very top of tower. 

“There you are, Capsicle,” someone calls over. 

You turn in the direction of the voice as Bonita grabs your arm and points at the dark-haired man. You know who he is. He’s on too many magazine covers and blogs not to. Tony Stark. He stands amid the group of his fellow avengers. 

“I found our lucky winners,” Steve says. 

“Bonita, and er, well, she won,” she pokes you as she introduces you. “Erm, we’re super excited.” 

You stare dully. You want to lie, for her. You do your best; a nod. 

“I remember you two,” Bucky’s voice surprises you. It’s only then you notice him sitting away from the rest of them, lazily flipping a knife. “You had a photo.” 

“Yes, that’s us!” Bonita blusters. 

“Well, ladies, welcome to the tower, these are the big boys... and girls.” Stark steps in front of the rest, “you’ve met Steverino here, and apparently his sidekick, The Raven.” Bucky scoffs as he stands and sheaths the knife. “Not to be cocky but I assume you know the rest of us.” 

“I do!” Bonita declares, “but er...” she looks at you. You half-nod and half-shrug. “It’s Tony Stark!” 

“I know that.” 

“Who doesn’t?” He winks. 

You grumble and his chin tilts slightly in affront. 

“That’s Thor! And Black Widow and Scarlet Witch, and Vision, and Hawkeye, and Hulk...” she goes down the list as you lose track and a little bit of interest. It’s your turn in Scrabble, you feel the notification buzz in your pocket. 

“What? Were you caught in the ice with this one?” Stark jabs Steve with a snicker. “You don’t know the world’s greatest heroes?” 

You stare back at him. “Nice tower, I guess.” 

“Ice cold,” he whistles, “I’ll leave this one to you, Vis. She’s about your speed,” he turns and struts away. 

“It’s your tour,” the woman with the short red bob says; the widow? 

“Contractual obligation but far from my idea,” he counters. “Hey, Banner, how about you take the lead. PhD or whatnot, I’m sure you give a hell of a lecture.” 

“We can go.” You offer and Bonita elbows you. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve insists, “we’re all going on the tour. Right, Tony?” 

“Hm, let me grab a whiskey first.” 

[twinglockrobins]

wildflower

jason todd. f! reader

description. harboring in the loss of your late boyfriend jason, his brother is tasked with protecting you, but he begins to think he crossed the line when the late robin is back from the dead and he already sacrificed much.

warnings. death / grief / funeral / super angsty / violence / fighting [gotham combat] / slight substance use / slightly au-ish [dick attends jasons funeral] / this is so ouch like tear inducing / pre-death to redhood! jason / platonic! dick and reader relationship /

based on wildflower by billie. adjusted to fit the story / blue lyrics match dick, red lyrics match jason and their thoughts

she was your girl, you showed her the world

things had been perfect. Perfect as assuming there were hardly any flaws or cracks surrounding the surface, so you would say that the relationship you shared with Jason was perfect. Who was to argue over movie nights, and watch the Gotham City sky-line off the rooftop under the grey illumination of the moon. Blissful kisses and dinner at the Wayne’s. 

But what you were unaware of, was the costume that was making him sick; from the inside out. Yellow cape behind him waving in the wind almost like a warning and a sign for him to slow down. To take the mask off and face the real him. The Jason behind the glamour and confusion of life yearning for the truth. Little by little robinhood was driving him crazy and his past tickled at the back of his mind. The Joker wasn’t too far behind him either. 

A few days after the two of you had begun dating, Jason bit down his pride. Anxiety bubbling in his stomach as meals were becoming less and less — as well as sleep, and though he couldn’t put a finger on the uneasiness he was having, It was making him bitter and irrational to everyone else. Including you. 

Trudging through the Wayne residence, to pull a fluffy-haired Dick Grayson aside.  Dick could see it all in Jason’s face, the existential dread, grief and sadness in one. His eyebrows furrowed and bags so deep it was leaving dark holes under his eyes. 

So Dick asked if the two of you had broken up? Perhaps he was grieving the loss of your relationship, to which Jason shook his head but snatched Dick up by the collar of his shirt,

“Can you promise me something?” Jason stammered, voice shaking and his knuckles turning white against the blue shirt Dick was wearing

“Look after her, please. I-If I were to die tomorrow and there was no me…make sure she’s okay…please”

Please. 

The six-letter word was something Dick thought that he would never hear out of the boy's mouth, but here he was; late in the depths of the night — begging him — almost on his knees. Dick couldn’t stop nodding his head, hands wrapping around Jason's wrist to pull him away from his shirt.

His brother didn’t really ask for much and a big request for his first ask was a little jarring. 

It itched at the back of his mind seeing as Jason dropped his grip on his shirt and left, almost ghostly in his appearance. 

she was cryin’ on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her, only made us closer until July 

Flowers smelled nice in the rain. But not appreciated when you were front row, looking down at a sleek black casket. White and red roses decorate the top, with a wooden picture stand to the side.  It was bittersweet how time worked. Snatching Jason down as his hourglass of time was shortening and dimming and his lucky nine lives were suddenly zero. 

You, with your mouth agape gripped onto the umbrella as the rain poured down zoned out as his eulogy was being read. 

Jason. Your Jason was in that casket, and his lack of contact suddenly made sense to you. 

Dick paid close attention to how you were moving, tears littering your cheeks and sliding down your face like it would a window pane, and the grip you had on the umbrella similar to the one Jason had on his shirt a few months prior. His eyes trickled down to your hand, that was jerking forward until you consciously pulled it away and balled it into a shaking fist.

The wave of grief you were riding, and Dick right along with you. 

It made the boy cry more seeing the way you were unraveling, the once energetic attitudes you had, dulled and destroyed with dead eyes and despair. 

His hands couldn’t help it as they trickled their way to your forearm. Sending a gentle swipe of comfort and support, to which your body felt light and your head knocked onto his shoulder. Dick froze, Jason’s words playing like a record in the back of his mind as he held onto you. The umbrella for one, becoming an umbrella for two as his loose hand took it from your own. 

Crying together was all you can do. A watchful Bruce at the back of you two, eyes burning holes into the shadow of the umbrella to his face. Guilt riddled in his stomach, was this what it felt like to lose? 

His eyes connected with Alfred who could only stay silent as he watched as the young duo cried together. 

That day, Dick publicly vowed, to you that he’d be there. For you to not be a stranger and that the Wayne Manor was always open to you, and of course Jason’s belongings. That it’s what his brother would have wanted. 

but i see her, in the back of my mind, all the time

Dick was mortified, the heartbroken look on your face replaying in the back of his mind and it’s been years since Jason has been dead. His ears would ring constantly and sleep was becoming harder. Working with the Titans eased the pain of thinking about his loss…well, your loss—

As expected, you pushed yourself away, doing what you knew best. 

It was easy to ghost the bat family shortly as the years came by. Bruce stopped calling but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching and Dick tried to keep you updated on his life — until traveling got in the way. So you bit the bullet and changed your number. 

It settled your brain inside, to calm the panic that would rake through your body when you would get a message from Dick; almost irritated that Jason’s name wasn’t the one at the top of the screen instead— something saying that he wasn’t dead and that it’s just a prank. You would hope and you would dream. 

like a fever, like i'm burning alive, like a sign

Dick respected your silence, and your absence all together. But  it did feel like a slap to the face when Alfred would ask and he’d lie like he knew the answer when he didn’t. Truth is, his heart sank when he realized your number wasn’t the same. His cheeks got warm, his chest was burning and his stomach swirled at the thought of you, and maybe it was the selfish desire and urge to protect you and keep Jason’s word alive; because if he was honest, he was doing terrible at it. 

So he spiraled, digging up everything he possibly could about you, so he could actually sleep at night knowing you were in good hands. He wondered if you were dating again, had you changed your hair or your job? But according to the Gotham City street tv’s you still looked like a spitting image from how you looked when he last saw you. Black from the trench coat at the top of your body to your shoes, it sent a shiver down his body.

But what was he going to say to you?

“Hey y/n I hope you’ve been well?”

“I’m sorry Bruce stopped calling”

“Why did you change your number?”

Dick felt his throat run dry, a cold tough lump every time he swallowed, almost like he couldn’t breathe. Then he sunk into his chair, floppy hair pushed back by his hands as he gripped at his scalp, typing in the nearest florist that he knew. 

That evening, A mix of flowers arrived at your desk; Jason’s favorites. Your hands are entangled in the vase, fingers ghosting on the stem and leaves. Sniffing them almost took you back to standing in the rain that day. Coldness fills your body and the void that hasn’t been filled. You shrieked as your finger sliced a rectangular card of white paper, your crimson blood staining the white as you read the note;  I hope you’re well — D . G 

And you knew that name better than anyone. 

and I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me

Grunts filled the air, alongside the slapping of fist against flesh and scuffing of shoes. The redhood emerged wrecking havoc on criminal business in Gotham and it certainly wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Dick should have known the minute he put his blue and black suit back on as he tussled side to side with the rather buff and tall man in front of him. 

The red-hood shoved Dick off of him, holding onto the side of his mask in between pants “Why don’t we do this with honesty” 

Dick tilted his head in confusion as he watched the red-hood dethrone his mask. Shaking his hair out and rolling it like a bowling ball towards Dick. Jason’s hair was a tad bit longer now, money pieces frosted blonde, and a J scar etched into his cheek, his gaze was hard and so lifeless. Dick felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest, breathes shakier than ever — burning up like he did when he had a fever. The wound was reopening for Dick. To see a very much alive Jason Todd in front of him was enough to throw him off his step. Hand crossed over his hip from the punches to his stomach, Dick doubled over. 

“I’m gonna be sick, how are you…”

“fight me.” Jason spat bitterly as he stared at Dick, ignoring the way the boy was trying to piece together if his death even happened. If the body in the casket was even real, who could he blame?

“Why would I fight you, you’re my brother?” Dick argued taking off his domino mask, eye makeup surrounding his eyes as he stared into Jason eye-to-eye. He couldn’t feel his soul; he couldn’t see through him, and for some reason their meeting felt oddly eerie. He dropped the mask, the thick eye mask landing right next to Jasons mask on the floor. The dichotomy. 

do you see her in the back of your mind, in my eyes?

“Where is she?” Jason poked, but Dick just remained silent his body resting against the wall,

“Dick, where the hell is she?” Jason repeated, this time with some base in his voice as the octave got louder. 

He moved in closer.

“I can’t— I can’t tell you that I’m sorry” Dick muttered as his head hung low. Jason cursed under his breath as his body turned facing away from Dick as he had a hand resting over his mouth. “But I can reassure you, she’s safe”

“So tell me where she is!”

“I CAN’T !”

Maybe this was selfish of him, Dick thought this was the right move, the smarter choice…even; and guilt was chewing him up and spitting him out like bird food. 

“I am sticking to what you said to me, and what you requested. You can’t just go back and play house, she’s hurt!” Dick paused as he tried to gather her thoughts, “let her heal”

His comment sent Jason over the edge, as his body lunged forward, fist in the air to plummet Dick’s face, missing as Dick’s reflexes started to kick in. Dick was doing well, dodging Jason’s punches until he reached in his holster, bringing out a small gun— silencer attached and began shooting at Dick in front of him who was successfully dodging every bullet.

“You can’t find her if I’m dead!”

Jason stopped firing, staring at the boy below him, chewing at his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. Face filled with contemplation and indecision, Jason held his finger on the trigger firing it anyways, as the bullet traveled deep into the cement next to Dick’s leg — purposely missing by an inch. It did make his heart pang seeing the way Dick scrunched up in terror, with his arms blocking his face. 

did i cross the line

Jason stood in front of your apartment building, fully suited in his suit. It was almost menacing how he looked.  Thick boots on the fire escape, wet from the light dusting of rain as he broke your window seal open to climb inside. 

Jason was immediately overwhelmed, it felt awfully warm inside but your perfume was also everywhere, every crevice of the room. His wet footsteps trickling around the room as he saw how empty your apartment looked. It almost reminded him of his own. Your white sheets, lack of red or color anywhere and that wasn’t quite like you. There was hardly any decor on your bedroom walls, but he didn’t wanna loose hope.

Jason traveled further down the hall of your apartment, the living room and kitchen separated by an island table that was closer in the kitchen, but still…minimalist and lack of pictures. He snickered to himself. It wasn’t you, or the you that he knew that encouraged him to not wear black all the time when he wasn’t out playing robin. He de-gloved his hands reaching for the photo that was facing down on the table— lifting up the glass to reveal a picture of a much younger him, and yourself together. It was taken by Alfred at one of Bruce’s Gala’s and it pained him how awkward he looked, but his eyes were vibrant and full of hope. 

Jason’s body suddenly felt warm and he wanted to rip every article of clothing off his body, he couldn’t recognize himself or what he had become, where he had even been had been a blur. His memories felt every bit of a dream. But you were constant. The memories he had of you never changed, his hand shot up to his chest like the air was suddenly hard to breathe, when he crouched to the floor; knees in front of the mantle.

Jason was planning to get comfortable, his hand reaching up to take his mask off when he heard the jingle of keys outside your front door. Cursing to himself he took off, hiding back into your bedroom with the light off blending in with the dark curtains you had and the wall shadow. 

He heard the front door open, you were walking in after your shift; struggling to stay upright as you shrugged off your coat and purse to the couch. The familiar trench coat that you always wore slightly damp but blobbed as it rested on the arm. You took off your shoes, one by one which made you notice the track of footprints on the floor. It was Gotham, meaning people liked to play on the fire-escape for fun which made you grab a knife from the knife block. 

On the way down the hall, you’ve seen the picture of you and Jason up-right, causing your hands to grip around the picture but you think it could of been the alcohol you’ve been drinking that was making you see things. Flipping the picture over and back face down to the table you followed the footsteps into your bed-room.

Pushing the door open was rather humbling when met with vacancy and silence. You couldn’t even bother to hit the light as the moonlight shined on your face and casted a blue hint into the bedroom. But the breeze of your window was frustrating you. Sobering by the minute, as the knife dropped to the bed. You mumbled words to yourself like — “get it together,” “what’s wrong with you” and it pained Jason to see how you were moving from his stance in the curtain. You’d looked so similar from when he had last seen you, but the lack of color on your body made it clear the pain hasn’t left you. You’d become him, dull and lost.

Reaching the window you finally closed it, noticing that the lock to your window was broken. Groaning knowing you’d have to call maintenance that took forever and a day, so you turned on your heels as you walked out of your bed room and to the bathroom. 

Jason couldn’t move, his feet felt cemented in the floor as he rested his body weight against the wall…He was trying to ignore the dampness of his mask and his face, as the tears cooked an obnoxious amount of condensation. 

He was gone and out the window with the flush of the toilet and perhaps Dick was right about one thing. 

i know you didn't mean to hurt me, so I keep it to myself

©TWINGLOCKROBINS 2025

[lonesilverw0lf]

Just some random bits and bobs that I thought of

Bully while he’s going through his growth arc is in a form of suffering. Maybe he starts off with nobody liking him, and for good reason, but as he saves his classmates more often and just starts being a good person most others of the Party start teasing him and treating him like normal. Think on how Bakugo from MHA(who for some reason is the face and rough personality that I’ve been going with for some reason despite Bakugo not having a shit upbringing) has that kinda asshole personality and yet the members of his squad like to pick on him in a sense. He doesn’t really know how to deal since he’s never really gotten positive feedback ever. Still quite a bit of a rebel heart, especially when the Nobility that tried to axe MC is involved.

Prep is weirdly excited to be roughing it, putting their preparatory, improv, and survival skills to work in a foreign environment. The extra hostility is just a bonus challenge. Also now has a low key rivalry with Mama in supporting and supplying the Party. Is quietly working with a few others in possibly making guns.

Chess Student has a Pokémon esque summoning type ability that they use in combat as a chess type game. Generic, I know, but it fits perfectly. Can’t think of too much else right now.

Teen Mom is limited in her mobility and nobody is going to risk the unborn, so she learns various forms of divination to help. Also learns a handful of other domestic skills to keep herself busy and aid the Party, like sewing, studying the Lore, and the like. Gods help you if you get between her and her chocolate.

CC and Mama both knew each other’s big secret, CC being stupidly rich who helps everyone and Mama’s dark side that she will never show to her friends, before being summoned to Fantasy Land. They both respect the other for it and have a don’t ask don’t tell policy. It’s only after being Summoned that the Party start having suspicions with the duo but can never come up with anything concrete. Suspicions, the occasional odd statement, and circumstantial evidence is all they can gather. Otherwise they just get weird looks from how scarily capable they are at their jobs.

Influencer discovers her gift by accident sorta early on. They visit some port where everyone is gossiping about MC and how he was ‘rightly discarded’ due to the Court’s spies spreading the rumors they want. Influencer simply tries to drum up some support for MC and set the record straight, only to almost have a full on riot on her hands. It’s the first time CC takes a direct hand in stopping a problem before it spirals out of control, not that anyone notices due to Influencers discovery. Since then she is always with a buddy to keep an eye on things. She comically cannot hold her liquor, which is another reason she needs a buddy at all times since her first time drinking also accidentally started another almost cult. This time around booze as their ‘patron’. Several deities salivate at the idea of making her one of their priestesses and almost started a divine war over her. She is famous in all the ways that she doesn’t want. Thank god that her gift doesn’t affect the Party. At least not yet…

Prez, walking through a small fortress up to a nervous Influencer: Are you ok?

Influencer, smile too wide and voice to chipper: Yeppers! Totally fine! A little sore from the ropes, but nothing a little rest can’t fix! Hahahaha! How are you?

Prez: Fine, as you can tell. And relieved you’re alright.

Influencer: That’s just fantastic! Totally zippe dee do da dally!

Prez: Influencer, did you start up another Cult?

Influencer, sweating buckets: Yesnt?

Prez: Yesnt? As a question?

Influencer, poking her fingers together: Ah well they were a Cult to begin with, ya know they kidnapped me for a sacrifice in the first place. Yeah?

Prez: But?

Influencer, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes: I may have… redirected their belief system ever so slightly??

CC laughing, Prez nodding begrudgingly: Yesnt.

Football guy, looking around at the cultists near frantically overhauling the place: ‘Redirected’? ‘Slightly’?!

Mama: I’ll go around this place and see how I can reorganize them to suit our goals. *teasingly* Under Influencers good name of course~.

Tomboy: Well, in the end it’s good that you’re alright-?! *gets glomped by Influencer*

Influencer, comically crying: How do you do it Tomboy?! How do you let yourself get kidnapped all the time?! Am I just a big chicken?!

Tomboy, awkwardly patting her back: Well normally it’s mostly planned, not random like you, and I’m usually caught by regular bandits wanting money and not next in line to be sacrificed either. Wait a minute you were gagged when they took you, who took that off?

Goth, casually perusing the Cults cursed artifacts: I’ll give you two guesses, but you’re only going to need one.

Everyone there, sighing: MC.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[zaahvi]

slowly starting to work on my own evanuris designs, first up are dirthamen and falon'din! (i did the busts a month ago now and hadn't decided on the outfits yet so that's why the colours don't match lmao)

some more design notes under the cut :)

in my headcanon, dirthamen was their original spirit (of guidance) and split while making his body because his soul was conflicted about whether he wanted to, or remain as a spirit. when he split, "dirthamen" was content with his new form, while the other half - falon'din - was not, and was twisted into despair. specifically, i imagine it as the sort of despair where you try to cling onto anything to try to make yourself happy, but to no avail.

i thought it'd be neat for them to have a mark symbolising their spirit shattering, like a birthmark. then making it look like their (eventual) vallaslin design made a lot of sense.

i had an idea for dirthamen to have one eye a long time ago, because he has a LOT of similarities to our odinn - god of knowledge and wisdom, often depicted as a hooded figure, and has two ravens (interestingly, while fear and deceit sound like demon names, huginn ("thought") and muninn (anything from: memory, will, remembrance, intention) sound like spirit names). and while elgar'nan holds odinn's title of all-father, he's more like tyr imo.

dirthy's outfit was loosely based off the robed evanuris in the black codex concept art where they're doing the ritual at the blight box lol. i saw that person and was like yeah that's my special god with his dark robes and his little dagger. ofc i had to give him more style though, and dropped in some colour (as falon'din has canonically claimed the colour black) i decided on green because of his eye colour, and turquoise because sometimes when light hits ravens' feathers they kinda look blue. his mosaic has him covering his mouth, so i covered his mouth here too. also, i know his symbol has a little mohawk thing going on in the ingame statues, i couldn't draw it at that angle guys i'm sorry, shapes are hard.

since falon'din mirrors dirthamen in appearance, he got the single eye too. his colours are also more muted because of the whole despair thing. i also found it really interesting that his symbol is the sun, i 100% thought that was sylaise, but it makes sense as sometimes the setting sun is seen as a symbol of death. also the crook he has on his mosaic was really interesting to me and i included it after i read an 18 page paper on them while researching. it's a shepherd's tool - but can also be seen as a symbol of power/status, and there's quite a few of our irl gods depicted holding one. it's honestly really fascinating. that little magic spark doesn't mean anything though it's just for flair :)

i put fally in an ancient elven armour with minimal design changes as he doesn't strike me as sentimental and is rather more like someone who wants to show off and be the cuntiest person in the room at all times. although black is his colour, again i muted it a little, same with the gold. i may edit his design a little in the future to include his owls but for now i'm just kinda trying to figure out how they'd fit in