#we need to take him into the 21st century

[citizen-grantaire]

the only thing the tags are right about is that Enjolras and les amis de l'ABC, as a group, were republicans in the 1830s, almost 200 years ago.. the addition is slightly better.

This wasn’t meant to be a serious post, but I do think that in a modern au, Enjolras should be a communist to remain comparatively thematically and ideologically consistent with canon Enjolras and his stance toward society and the times he lived in, in today's world. + I stress that I’m specifically referring to Enjolras here, not all characters. (e.g. this blog is named after grantaire, whom I love so much as a character, but no way in hell he's a communist)

Communism is the doctrine of the conditions of the liberation of the proletariat [link to principles of communism by Engles] It is not just an economic system but also a sociopolitical framework that seeks, through the application of dialectical materialism and revolutionary action, to eventually achieve the abolition of private property, liberate people from all forms of oppression and exploitation, and establish a classless, moneyless stateless society after and through the implementation of a transitional period of socialism, during which the proletariat (or working class, for simplification) takes political power and works toward equity through what we call a dictatorship of the proletariat where the workers collectively seize and own the means of production and the socialist state works to serve their interests instead of that of the bourgeoise etc.. welcome to communism 101 (broad, simplified)

Authoritarianism/totalitarianism are just silly words really, you can define them however you like.. they just serve to make the current power structure seem "normal" instead of requiring constant enforcement, it's only called authoritarian when usamerica feel threatened. (surprise. it feels threatened by the mere existence of communists and does anything to literally kill them around the world.) anyway, I love communist authoritarianism yay

"the ability to pick your leaders" in a liberal democracy isn't real, I don't even think that we should have to explain this after the trump vs harris circus, they all serve the empire and are not different in any meaningful way. This type of democracy is an illusion, and not a well-made one.

Reform/public services within capitalism (the examples you mentioned), while good, is not enough and limited at best, especially in countries in the global north, and need to be implemented within a socialist system, otherwise you're treating some of the symptoms but not the disease.

Okay, back to Enjolras because this is getting long.. in the book, he was a radical republican in the 1830s and wanted to overthrow the monarchy, he had knowledge about the first republic like he witnessed it and ideologically followed the montagnard (robespierre, saint just.. the men of 1793), he symbolizes the revolution, believes in necessary political violence and his beliefs centers about workers and poor people despite being born rich.. etc which are all great positions from someone from 200 years ago, overthrowing monarchy and reestablishing the republic is revolutionary in france then.. so let's ask ourselves what is comparatively true to his revolutionary stances in today's world if he was born in the 21st century instead of the 19th? Sure some things have changed in the world. Of course, canon Enjolras is an idealist which is a fatal flaw but that's not the point right now (just like I'm ignoring dear Hugo's mess of politics)

If a modern au Enjolras isn't a communist then it's not a believable adaptation of the character to the modern world. You can argue for anarchism with him I guess but it'd be a strong argument..

What other 'form of government' is revolutionary and pursues the end of exploitation and oppression from the roots you're arguing for? Thinking of Enjolras as a liberal is laughable. Reactionary!Enjolras

But once again he's just a fictional character and it doesn't matter how you write him if you do, but happy to introduce you to the immortal science of Marxism-Leninism, I guess <3

A modern au Enjolras should be a communist btw. Non-negotiable.

[transgenderdoctorwhomst]

To me Altaïr's gender is just "Assassin" and has it/he pronouns. Unfortunately Altaïr lives in the 1100's and unless it involves murder or the apple of eden, the self perception skills of a rock

[oceantornadoo]

ch1 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

-

“Yer gettin’ married next week.”

You scoff at your brother staring at his Scotch whisky like it holds the answers to the universe.

“And you’re the king of Egypt. Funny, Simon.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he glances at Johnny, his husband and right-hand man. The two have a silent conversation, a head twitch followed by a pursing of lips. Johnny’s lips are cracked and split, something you can’t imagine your brother is attracted to. Superb mental health does not run in your family.

Johnny rises out of his chair, a wooden thing that creaks with effort, and takes his leave. He ruffles your hair on the way out while you try, for the thirtieth time, to shove his side. You are, yet again, unsuccessful. He’s built like a tank.

“M serious, love. ‘Ve been in negotiations the past month. It’s happenin’ next Saturday, St Etheldreda's Church.” You run through a list of churches in your head. St. Ethledreda’s is not in Manchester. In fact, you’re pretty sure it’s not in your territory. Which means…

“Why’re you naming a church in London?” Simon’s quiet as his eyes bore holes into yours. This is one of his favorite tactics to use on his men - staying silent until they find the answer themselves. You hate when he uses it on you like you’re under his command and not his younger sister. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“We need an alliance an’ they offered.”

“Then write a fuckin’ treaty! Not a marriage certificate.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s the 21st century.”

“Not in this family.”

That’s something you can’t argue against. Most people outside of your immediate circle don’t even know Simon’s married to Johnny, let alone into men. When he first came to power, you created a sob story for him - early marriage to his (female) childhood sweetheart, then fast-spreading cancer, ending with a man struck by grief. It allowed him a known reason for turning down arranged marriages while making him seem more human than your shared father. No one paid enough attention to you two as children to know the story wasn’t real, and fake certificates of marriage and death are a dime a dozen. Everyone knows he’s close with Johnny, his right-hand man, and that’s that.

“What about my bookstore?” It’s your pride and joy, plus it’s 95% legal. Mostly. 

“There’s bookstores in London.” London. Only 200 miles away, but it’s like another world. Another world where you can’t walk down the street where every single storefront owner knows who you are. Where the cops are on your family’s payroll and don’t blink an eye at the gun strapped to your hip. It doesn’t matter if you were raised away in your formative years, losing your accent and most concepts of slang that baffle you. It doesn’t matter if you only share a father with Simon, that your mother was a Riley employee and not Mrs. Riley. Manchester is your home. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you have a choice, mainly because you know you don’t. The firm, or mafia, gang, or whatever you want to call it, still operates as if women are objects to be traded and bought. Marriages are merely political agreements. Getting to run a bookstore, or cash-cleaning business, as a woman is almost unheard of where you’re from. Others might call you lucky, but it’s more like being a bird in a gilded cage. A glimpse of what a true, normal life might look like. Living in a flat above your store, hosting local book clubs, setting out free cookie samples - all to be ruined when Johnny stumbles through with a gunshot or the newest recruits are sent to grab more bullets from the basement. Every other week, you snap back from your daydream and remember that you’re a mafia princess at the end of the day, though duchess seems more adequate since the Rileys don’t have that big of a territory.

“And who is my husband-to-be in London?”

“John Price.”

“I’d rather marry Nikolai. In fact, I might just go elope.” Simon glares and you glare back. “I’m not marrying John Price.” You clarify, for emphasis. Simon leans forward in his office chair, looming over his desk like a puppet master. You’re in the chair across from him, crossing your legs casually like you’re not discussing your arranged marriage and potential future. “Contract’s done, love. Jus’ waitin’ on yer signature.” Your signature, the one change from the barbaric practices of old England. You could say no, but then Simon would have no choice but to cut you off. It would be a sign of weakness to the other families if he let a delinquent bastard half-sister run his decisions.

“I want to negotiate the contract.” It’s the closest your brother has ever been to rolling his eyes. They twitch with restraint, blonde lashes flickering. “This isn’t a TV show, kid. Yer not negotiatin’ yer bloody contract.” You uncross your legs, hands on your armrest like you’re about to leave. “Fine. Let me go call up the NCA, tell them all about my brother and his scary gang.” He sighs deeply, then pulls out his phone. “Bloody hell. Can’t wait t’ marry you off, fuckin’ arsehole.” You grab the bright pink stress ball on his desk, a stocking stuffer you gave him as a joke, and throw it at him. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, huffing as the ball hits the side of his head. 

“Here.” He tosses you the phone that’s already ringing. There’s no contact name, just initials. JP. “Riley. Got a problem?” A smooth baritone emits from the phone’s tinny speakers. “Hope you’re not busy this weekend, future hubby. I can’t wait to see you.” Simon sighs at the consequences of his own actions. John’s silent on the other end, processing your words. Bit thick, that one.

“An’ why’s that, sweetheart?” It’s a term of endearment but he laces it with vitriol. “We’re having tea on Saturday at my store. Bring your contract and favorite lawyers. See you then!” You hang up before he can answer, tossing the phone back to Simon. He shakes his head at you.

“Smile, Simon. It’ll be nice to bond with your brother-in-law.”

This is going to be a very long marriage.

If you even get down the aisle.

-

Why does reader hate John? Why is she also a little shit? All will be revealed :)

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[ybklix]

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑

★ pairing: subneedy-slightly inexperienced!felix x horny fem!reader

✦summary: Temptation and lust take over Felix when he meets you; he is a young adult with an angel face who really is an angel, he is a naive and kind man who moves to a new neighborhood and has to change his usual church as it is part of his routine and hobby. You have an angel face with intense feelings and hidden thoughts worthy of the red bad man from hell himself, you can't wait to satiated your deepest desires with the new pretty boy you met at church. Making Felix sin, over and over again.

♡ warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, daddy kink, teasing, handjob, masturbation, oral sex, sex in the church (sorry), boobplay, multiple orgasms, fingering, faceriding, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, slight aftercare.

word count: 8.2k (i may need to learn how stfu)

MASTERLIST — TAGLIST FORMS

𓆩❤︎𓆪 warning: mention of religion and religious objects, without ofending anyone I hope.

;༊ playlist: only angel by harry styles ๋࣭ ⭑ gods & monsters by lana del rey ๋࣭ ⭑ god is a woman by ariana grande ๋࣭ ⭑ religion by lana del rey

dividers by fairytopea & anitalenia

❝𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧❞ ❦

Oh, sweet lord, you thought. You couldn't take your eyes off him, from the moment he stood in that sacred place to read the Sunday mass reading, you watched every detail like a predator guarding its prey. After so many years of accompanying your parents as a family tradition, the mass was finally getting interesting. Oh, amen, amen.

The man returned to his seat, right in the front seats so you could only see his long, dyed blond hair combed into a man bun from a distance and in detail. You were seated next to your parents in the middle of the seats, the ceremony continued, until it finally ended and… between a little yawn, you waited for the people to gradually leave, without losing sight of the blond boy; you noticed that he didn't leave either, usually your family stayed until the end since they were such a well known and respected family, your parents greeted and said goodbye to each of the people who attended the church that Sunday, from the usual people, to the new ones, so you waited for the boy to come closer, besides your father was the older brother of the priest of the church.

Finally, no one was left, just the few other families talking outside the church, and the blond boy talking to your uncle, until finally they both approached you, who were outside the church. You watched him closely from top to bottom looking at every detail of him, he was so cute, he had a beauty that caught you instantly, he was slim, delicate features, big lips and eyes, you noticed the delicate freckles spread under his eyes down his cheeks and nose, looking so innocent, he looked like a nerd, totally your type, he looked like at any moment he was going to correct you of your mistake with a 'actually', with his white diamond pattern vest, a short sleeved shirt underneath, his beige pants with a belt and his big glasses with a square shape, who the fuck in the 21st century dressed this conservative, he simple was cute.

“This is Felix, he just moved to the neighborhood, so now he comes to this church, he used to go to another church in another district, honestly I'm happy we can keep him” your uncle commented, amused and with a smile, introducing the blond boy who looked shy.

Felix, you repeated in your head, interesting name. He smiled shyly and sweetly.

“Nice to meet you, my pleasure, I'm really new to the neighborhood” he spoke, surprising everyone except your uncle, who already seemed to know him, with an incredible thick voice, not matching his angelic face.

Felix shook your parents's hands and then it was your turn, you took his soft, medium sized hand as you smiled at him, you didn't think your gaze was heavy, until you noticed Felix swallowed saliva nervously at the sight of you as he shook your hand, marking his notorious Adam's apple on his throat. You went back to watching him without missing any detail, from his few, slightly noticeable roots in his hair, to the delicious, delicate veins marked on his slender arms with soft hair. He wore a ring with crosses on his right index finger and another cross necklace. You couldn't help it, you had him in your sights, he was so cute you couldn't help but think of him in such dirty situations, maybe you were just ovulating, or you really wanted to fuck him.

Felix felt a little uncomfortable, your gaze was more than obvious and penetrating, but Felix didn't finish deciphering it, he didn't want to think that someone pretty would see him with such evil eyes.

“A pleasure Felix, we are the priest's family, this is our daughter, Y/N” your father spoke, "Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You smiled at Felix, now innocently but mischievously now that he knew your name.

“She's in college, I know she's young and baby-faced” your mother hastened to say, recognizing that Felix was a cute boy who looked close to your age.

You couldn't even turn to look at your mother moodily, your eyes were glued to Felix.

“Felix will give little catechesis to the children and Y/N, I think Felix can guide you to teach you the bible, so you can teach soon” advised your uncle and priest.

You blinked suddenly, perplexed that fate was in your favor.

“Of course, uncle, I'd love to” you replied, more than happy, without wiping off your smile and looking straight at Felix.

Felix wanted to sweat… he recognized that he liked you instantly, wearing your pretty floral sundress, exquisitely marking your silhouette and breasts, your very feminine appearance, your light make-up, hairstyle hair and sweet scent, you drove him crazy and… he rarely had female contact.

“Oh, of course she'll be there” added your mother, also happy that you could meet a nice and cute church boy.

“Oh, our dear Felix is a very good Samaritan, he just came back from volunteering, but his life duties called him” your uncle commented.

Cute, handsome and truly a good person, he just lacked some damn wings and halo for him to start flying, you thought.

“Oh, Felix, what are you doing on Friday? Let us welcome you to the neighborhood” spoke your father.

“I'd love to” Felix replied cheerfully.

“Friday at our place, we'll cook something delicious for you, I'll send you the address and Y/N… you'll see him on...” commented your father.

“Wednesday and Thursday” Felix quickly replied, which surprised you, “In the afternoon if you can, because of the university and thank you for the invitation, sir.”

“I'll be there” you replied to Felix, smiling at him, with such a dark look that only he could decipher.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wednesday. Your horniness calmed down a little bit from monday to wednesday, you thought that maybe you were over exaggerating with Felix, that he really was a nice and cute guy, and that you should stop with the sudden dirty thoughts that crossed your mind. You walked into the small room, compared to the rest of the place, of the church where Felix would give you lessons on how to interpret bible verses and readings to train you to give lessons to the kids too, honestly, every year since you turned eighteen, your parents and uncle would insist you to support them with those little lessons to the kids so they can do their communion and confirmation but… you always ignored them and, it was until with Felix you were completely hooked and engaged.

You walked in quietly, apparently there was no one in the church and you didn't want to make noise and, you died of tenderness to find Felix on his knees, praying. He really was a bible eater, you thought, you didn't understand why you were suddenly so turned on by the fact that he was such a nice, good boy. You saw him in silence, apparently he didn't notice your presence, he was still concentrating, holding a rosary in his hands. Five minutes later, he finished, he crossed himself and opened his eyes and stood up, he saw you standing at a distance looking at him, which surprised him a little.

You smiled at his reaction, he was really concentrating on praying.

“Hi” you said to him, setting your bag down on one of the tables in the place, moving dangerously close to him.

Felix rubbed his hands, instantly sweating, on the denim of his jeans, nervous. The truth was… Felix liked you so much that he didn't know how to react, it was silly, but he was a bit naive to believe in love at first sight, he was convinced that what he felt with you at first sight was an inexplicable connection and the poor guy couldn't control his emotions and his little body excited at the mere sight of you. His heart was pounding and he was blushing slightly. Felix hadn't flirted with a woman in years, he was 24 years old and only dedicated himself to his job as a programmer and in his free time he adored with an incredible passion the church, but he got a wonderful job so he opted for a neighborhood closer to the place, so… girls and relationships was something that without realizing it, he started to displace from his life, until you arrived.

“Hello” nervously replied Felix in a low tone.

My god, you loved his voice. You adored him, you wanted to do all the cheesiness in the world in public and the dirtiest obscenity in private. Again, you were horny.

“I see you went ahead, you prayed without me” you told him slowly, trying to have a conversation.

You were definitely going to seduce him today. You just wanted to see his reaction and make sure if he also wants to play along and take it somewhere else.

“You w-want to pray?” he replied nervously.

You lifted your shoulders, with an impish grin, “Mmhum, why not” you got down on your knees in front of him without breaking eye contact.

You held onto his leg a little and were left in such a compromising position, right in front of his cock. Felix cleared his throat and took a step back instantly, so surprised by your action, you innocently closed your eyes, as if you had done nothing, raised your chin proudly and clasped your hands together.

Felix wasn't an idiot, but he chose to believe you did it without thinking, he believed so much in the goodness of people, it wouldn't fit in his head that someone so pretty, educated and family oriented suddenly behaved strangely, with double meaning. You pretended to pray, you were not concentrating, you asked god for forgiveness for just thinking of all the shapes and colors Felix's penis could be, while you were supposed to be praying. You stayed like that for a few minutes, not getting tired, you were young and your knees were strong. Felix saw you, with such a straight posture as you prayed, you wore a short white clingy skirt, so short he could almost see little fabric of your pink panties, Felix's heart pounded again… he hadn't analyzed you, you wore a tight top, marking your breasts and showing your navel… he watched you dumbfounded, as if he had never seen a woman before.

You felt his gaze, who would have thought that with his soft looks, he also had a penetrating gaze, you half opened one eye, managing to see blurred that he was licking his lips. You finished, stood up nimbly, almost forgetting to cross yourself from your fake prayer, wiped your bare knees and watched him cheerfully, almost waiting for a command from him.

“Aham” cleared his throat once more Felix, trying to avert his gaze from you, “You have… background knowledge of how to read the bible?”

You nodded, bored, it really wasn't the kind of relationship or lessons you wanted from him. You sat down on the bench, patting your side and inviting him to sit down. Felix picked up his heavy book and sat down next to you, nervous about your closeness. He saw your bare thighs, your skirt getting shorter… after all, Felix was a man entitled to feel, and his body was reacting on its own, he quickly placed the heavy bible on his lap, trying to hide his growing erection he felt so painful, he felt guilty and surprised, he knew he liked you… but seeing you suddenly show a little more skin, turned him on too much.

You noticed Felix, flushed, nervous and with his ears red.

“H-honestly I didn't prepare a class itself, I don't know what priest Kim was referring to, if you occupy any guidance let me know” he spoke, without looking you in the eyes, looking down at the floor.

You sought his gaze, but he was unwilling to look at you, you laughed in disbelief.

“I don't know what he meant either, I only said yes to spend time with you” you said, suddenly, exciting him more with your voice.

You slowly noticed the tension in the room, you were surprised how fast it was going to work with Felix, all you have done is dress in short clothes, you hadn't even made a proper innuendo to him and he looked like he was already struggling with himself, you thought it was amazing, when you really make a move on him he would explode, you thought, you had barely been there a little over 10 minutes and his pretty freckles were tinged with red under his cheeks.

Felix felt pity, shame, and so much guilt, but he could not control himself, his erection was growing more and more and his body was excited, he was not thinking clearly, suddenly lust was filling his body… he thought, what kind of magnetism you must have to put him like this and if, it really was a divine test not to fall into temptation, you were a very tempting and beautiful demon, that Felix would be willing to give himself completely if you continued.

He was so needy, he wasn't a virgin, he lost his virginity when he was eighteen with his first girlfriend, then he had another one at twenty… but the sex was so smooth, so simple and vanilla, but you, oh Felix thought how incredible you must be sexually. Everything about you said so, said you would know how to please him, your confidence, the sway of your hips and your subtle tone and suggestive looks. Felix was losing his mind.

“I want to know more about you” you opened your eyes excitedly, telling him, to which he finally looked into your eyes.

“What do you wanna know?” he asked, in agony, wishing his pain would end soon, his throbbing cock drowning in his tight jeans.

You went back to admiring Felix, he was again wearing his glasses and now had a half ponytail, leaving some of his long hair loose.

“I don't know… what do you do for a living, how old are you…?”

Felix wanted to let out a sigh, but didn't want to look too obvious.

“I'm a computer programmer” you looked at him attentively, waiting for a more concrete answer, “I repair them and install important programs to companies” he added, in a strangely deeper voice than usual.

You looked at him with admiration, he really was a little nerd trapped in an attractive body and face, you would not be surprised if he was a virgin…. or… you bit your lip at the thought that maybe behind his innocent appearance could be an insatiable monster. You also thought about how nimble he would be with his hands.

Felix was normal, a gen Z boy with a job, he grew up in a family environment where his parents always let him express himself widely with who he is and explore his persona, that's why he feels free to dye his hair but he chose the church as a hobby, he adored it with passion, he was religious and wasn't afraid to admit it… however just now he felt like the most vile and sinful being on the planet, he felt dirty, promiscuous and lustful, falling into temptation.

“And you…?” added Felix, standing up suddenly, turning his back to you, to move away. He could no longer stay close to you without his member aching.

Felix regretted it though, now he didn't know how to hide his erection, you instantly followed him, stood up and moved closer to him.

“I don't want to talk about me, I just want you to talk about you” you replied, seductively as you frowned.

You found his attitude strange, almost sweating, he turned his body, for the way his hands clung to the big book, glued to him, curious, you moved his arms, trying to push the book away, but his grip was strong, you looked him in the eyes quickly, in sign of what he was hiding, Felix felt trapped and with embarrassment, he let you take the bible from him, leaving it on the table next to him and surprising you by noticing that your new church instructor was aroused, reflecting with a bulge in his pants, hard.

You bit your lip, so surprised that you literally didn't lift a finger.

“Oh wow, you're seriously excited about preaching the word of the lord” you teased, watching as he increasingly pulled back and held from the desk, pinning his body to the wall, his pronounced Adam's apple quivering nervously, “You're seriously excited” you whispered, bringing your hand to his erection, stroking it.

“P-please don't” he requested, in a halting, excited sigh, “There's people outside. Stop.”

“Actually we're alone, it's the priest's nap time and the night watchman doesn't arrive until eight, the janitor doesn't work on Wednesdays” you told him again teasingly, with a smug smile.

Felix gasped, as he felt your hand squeeze his bulge, you moved up to his chin, watching in detail his thick lips half open.

“Stop” he whimpered.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me to really stop and I will” you commanded, searching his gaze but he never dared to look at you.

Your smile widened, as did the swelling of Felix's cock, he felt so needy and you were incredibly attractive as to be true, it was obvious that deep down, you awakened his sexual appetite that he thought he had put on pause, or at least know how to control.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” you said again teasingly, but excitedly, your panties were starting to get soaked and sticky, you would do anything to feel his heart shaped lips brush against your pussy just now while pulling on his long soft hair.

Felix didn't respond, he just let out a held back moan, all his muscles were tense, all of him was tense, he needed to relax, and you noticed it.

“Why are you like this, Felix? I just want to make you feel good” you told him almost in pleading, with a slight pout and with sparkling eyes, Felix saw your eyes again, finding your pretty and angelic look so demanding and hot, “You can de-stress with me, come on” you smiled mischievously.

And the next thing you did was to remove your top and bra in one swift movement, leaving your young, round breasts in full view and at Felix's mercy. Felix looked at you in fright, and then at your garments which you set aside on the desk.

“No, no, no, no, put that back on” he said nervously in a low voice, reaching for your clothes with his hands.

You quickly caught his hand, then the other, leading them both to touch your breasts, Felix didn't remove himself, he was carried away by the sensation of your hard nipple brushing his palm, he bit his lips, incredibly aroused, able to cum just by touching your tits.

“Just touch me and de-stress a little, aren't they soft?” you gasped.

Very soft, Felix thought, grabbing them with more confidence and squeezing them, massaging them delicately enjoying every second, he had never felt boobs like that, he never thought they would turn him on so much either… his former sexual relations consisted of sizzling kisses, him caressing his penis and then entering his ex-girlfriend's vagina, Felix did not know the slow, wicked and delicious art of foreplay. You gasped as you felt him enjoy your tits and took your hands off him, down to his pants.

“May I?” you asked innocently playing with the button of his pants.

“Yes, please” Felix gasped, needy.

At this point temptation got the best of him, he hadn't even fucked you yet and he was already empathizing with Adam and Eve for tasting the forbidden fruit, it just felt so fucking good, his body was shaking, his cock was pumping and the adrenaline had him on edge.

You smiled, so prettily that Felix wanted to melt, you looked so pretty with your cheeks flushed, your lipgloss and eyelashes curled and a look so dark and evil. Felix thought you were definitely an angel, one cast out of heaven for misbehaving, banished to earth, ready to torture men.

You bit your lip and quickly pulled down his pants, seeing his hard cock between his boxers, you sighed in surprise, so what you had expected… you stroked him over the fabric, taking in from his balls to his entire length trapped in his boxers and, with such a hungry look, you pulled down his underwear, freeing his stiff cock, as cute and needy as he was. You sighed, it was better than you could have imagined, it wasn't small, let alone monstrously huge, it was perfect for filling your pussy to the bottom and moving it without pain. Its pink, sensitive tip was already covered in its glistening precum and the rest of its length was a more slightly tan color, covered in veins. You needed it inside you, now. You took him between your hands, his cock throbbed just like your wet pussy, you would love to get down on your knees and suck him off, but you knew Felix would get so carried away he would lose awareness of his surroundings and you needed to be alert, after all you were in a church where you were supposed to study the bible, anyone could walk in.

And you watched Felix so needy with his red sex and hands squeezing your breast, just this time, you would make him cum in your hand, just because he was a pretty boy and you wanted his nice shiny cum in you, making a mess.

You couldn't help but let out a slight teasing giggle, honestly it wasn't the kind of thing you did, you rarely had sex with college guys because you were very selective with who you let yourself go and satisfy yourself sexually, it wasn't like you went around wanting to suck the cock of any cute guy you could find like you did with Felix either, there was something about him that held you captive.

Felix felt your giggle in every part of his being, the vein in his neck began to exalt and his grip on your breasts became tighter as he felt your hand gently play with his foreskin and then run it up and down his length. Felix moaned, his voice thick, so loud it terrified him that anyone could have heard him.

Your gaze focused on his cock and then you looked into his eyes as you found your pace, pulling on it, stroking it up and down, giving attention to his testicles, teasing his glans with his slippery precum, moving it at your mercy as if it were a toy and a rigid joystick as you watched him with a haughty grin. Felix was struggling with all his might, thinking of nothing but the incredible sexual pleasure you were giving him, gasping in a deep voice "Oh, god" and you felt him so close, his body twitching and his sex throbbing and agonizing for release.

“Cum for me, daddy, please, fill my hand with your cum” you whispered to him, not resisting any longer and moved in to kiss him.

You wondered why you didn't kiss him before, so desperate were you both that you forgot to feel his sweet lips before the dirty act. His lips trembled and let out a sigh, suddenly Felix had cum in your hand, spilling all his glory all over you, you felt his thick warm liquid, you would have loved to see his needy tip expelling his semen, but you were so focused on his lips, you smiled and kissed him again, his lips as soft and sweet as cotton candy, he followed your kiss, embarrassed to have his cock exposed, still he enjoyed your nice romantic kiss, almost making him fall in love with you.

He felt so sorry and guilty, but there was no doubt you would know how to treat him so well. You were still still horny and wet, but you were not crazy enough to ride his cock in a church room, you could wait for him, if it's for Felix you would be so patient with your good boy.

˚₊‧꒰Ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next day came, you were so excited about your second encounter with Felix, you wanted to feel his throbbing sex in you again, you wanted to see his every reaction, so needy for your touch with his delightful gasps in the background. However your plans came crashing down when your uncle called, saying Felix couldn't attend which disappointed and upset you, you understood that poor Felix must have been embarrassed, his whole pretty head must have been over thinking all night, but he didn't have to, you want him and you are willing for him to get to fucking heaven if he wants to touch you and you were going to make it clear to him if you should continue… or if he really wants you to stop.

Felix knew he could have sex, like any normal person, but really after not having sex for a while he thought he would be saving himself more eagerly for the woman he would take to the altar of the church; but what hurt him most was that he did such a grotesque act in the presence of god, in his house, he was so tormented that he did not know how to remedy himself, neither praying 100 rosaries, nor going to confession would make the guilt leave his sinful little body.

On Friday he couldn't escape his already agreed welcome to the neighborhood, so he had to see you no matter how much he avoided you. That Friday Felix gave his first catechism class to the kids and went home to shower and get ready, where, in his shower he thought of you all the time, he thought of you in his vulnerable moments, he thought of you the night you touched him, and he touched himself and now he was masturbating to your image in his shower, pulling on his needy cock as if he were a horny teenager, he couldn't help it, he was suddenly full of you.

Felix rang your doorbell nervously, fixing his long hair and clothes almost shaking and letting out a sigh, you ran to your door; as soon as you left the university you rushed to get ready to see Felix again. You opened the door and found him, once again with his half ponytail, big glasses and wearing all white, white jeans, white shirt, and a thin jacket as an accessory.

“Welcome” you said to him with a big smile, letting him pass.

Your whole family greeted Felix, your mother's sister, your aunt, your parents, and your uncle, priest of the local neighborhood church. Your mother suggested Felix to wait a bit in the living room while she served dinner, you followed Felix, sitting next to him, this time you were dressed more modest, still wearing a short skirt, but not enough to show your butt. You wanted to whisper so many things to Felix, but your father was there, asking the poor boy if he was interested in football. Dinner was ready, which saved Felix from your father's conversation and your closeness, everyone washed their hands and, he took a seat as sweetly your mother instructed him and you, who saw your little sixteen year old cousin with every intention of sitting next to the pretty boy in the only available seat next to him, pushed her, to which your aunt sweetly said “Oh, Sally, come sit here.” Your parents were at the ends of the table, your uncle the priest, your mother's sister, and your cousin, sitting across from you at the sides of the table, you and Felix alone. Felix wanted to let out a half-hearted sigh at having you near, but tried to forget all thoughts and focus on a nice healthy dinner.

“Let's pray for food,” your mother said.

Everyone put their hands together and closed their eyes, you did it last managing to see how everyone at the table did, you prayed, oh god forgive me for what I will do, but I can't stop.

You waited for Felix to stop praying, you didn't want to be so mean and interrupt him in his sacred moment of prayer and, when you saw him tenderly open his big round brown eyes, you dropped your hand on his thigh caressing it. Felix opened his eyes, surprised, but he didn't want to show a stronger reaction since he was in the presence of more people, but that never stopped you.

He slyly lowered his hand, stopping yours, again not allowing you to take him into forbidden territory, but he had to pretend to eat, so he took both cutlery while your hand started stroking his member and, like magic, Felix slowly got hard in such a short time, Felix over bit the fork, almost sighing, which caused the attention of the others at the table.

“The food is delicious” he excused himself embarrassed with his red face and a smile.

You were teasing him so much, you squeezed his marked penis in his pants, it was so much fun to feel it, you wanted to sit on it, rub yourself on it, run your face in it, you wondered desperately when it would finally happen. You decided that you tortured poor Felix when you saw him so needy, struggling with not panting, with a smile you pulled your hand away and just kept watching him out of the corner of your eye. But the excitement wouldn't stop or leave Felix's body, he didn't know what to do, everyone was finishing dinner, ready to move from the table, but once he stood up, a visible erection in his pants would be present, leaving him looking like a pervert.

You checked your Felix again, still hard, you looked at him with tenderness and compassion, thinking that the poor guy must and must have suffered a lot.

“Felix and I will clear the table” you went ahead to say.

“But what are you talking about, he is a guest, let your cousin help you” your mother replied, getting up from the table.

“Mary, leave Y/N alone with the boy…” your aunt whispered half-jokingly to your mother, “Don't worry dear, we'll be in the living room, I'll play the piano for a while.”

Felix felt the slightest bit of relief to see the people leave, so he could go towards the bathroom embarrassed trying to calm down…. but he saw you, so attractive and with an arrogant smile, which infuriated him a little, it infuriated him that you can play with him whenever you feel like it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Felix claimed to you, annoyed, which surprised you quite a bit.

You both stood up from the table and proudly saw his outstanding erection caused only by your minimal frictions.

“We can sneak out to so I can help you with that, daddy” you whispered to him, approaching him ready to stroke him again but he stopped your wrist tightly.

“Don't even think about it and don't call me daddy. Where is the bathroom?” he said again annoyed and domineering, confusing you.

You pointed him where to go and, you didn't know if you were more turned on by his unexpectedly domineering attitude… or if you really pissed him off and had ruined your chances.

Felix ran to the bathroom and cursed internally, every inch of his cock ached, and he cursed you too for being a pretty promiscuous girl driving him crazy, he thought there was no other choice but to make himself cum, so he pulled down his pants and underwear and started to jerk off holding back his every gasp, Felix took his thick swollen cock in his medium sized hands, so sensitive it almost made him shudder, thinking it could be your hands pleasuring him and began to stroke himself frantically bringing him to orgasm, biting his lip hard and throwing his head back in pure pleasure, almost crying. His sixth masturbation since he met you, one after your first encounter, three on Thursday, one before he came to see you and…. one just now in your mothers guest bathroom. Felix dropped all his semen into the toilet and flushed the handle hard followed by washing his hands frantically and maniacally as if he was trying to clean up blood from a atrocious crime he had just committed.

You disappointed, on the other hand, went to listen to your aunt play, until you felt Felix's fresh fragrance and presence next to you, he had decided that he didn't want it to stay that way and that, after all, he was still a normal 24 year old male, in every right to explore his sexuality and, you were cute, close to his age, he liked you, you wanted him, why not give it a try.

“Why don't you… come to my place tomorrow to discuss something…” whispered Felix in your ear slyly in his deep voice.

You smiled broadly, you couldn't wait.

˚₊‧꒰Ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Saturday, glorious Saturday before your Sunday family reunion at church, Felix finally took the initiative and invited you to be alone. Now it was you, who knocked on the door of his apartment nervously, but he was already waiting for you as he had to let you into the building first. He opened the door with a wide smile, so tender that you wanted to pinch his cheeks, but you only returned the gesture, for some reason, now you felt a little shy, after being the one who had taken all the important steps… You greeted each other shyly and you held out your shopping bag, indicating that you had brought him something.

“Come in, sorry about the mess, I'm still tidying up” he said, after you had seen apartment more neat and tidy apartment ever.

“I brought wine… I guess I didn't give you the proper welcome to the neighborhood” you told him seductively with a smile and dared to give him a quick kiss, which made him blush in seconds.

“I… cooked, well more like baked dessert and ordered dinner” he replied nervously, causing you tenderness.

You smiled at him and you both sat down to eat, bringing up any topic of conversation only to hear his voice and closely analyze the peculiar way his mouth moved every time he spoke, how his eyes looked up when he thought about something and his hands were in constant motion as he chatted about something.

You both relaxed afterwards, with nothing more to say, so you looked around his entire apartment and something of what looked like a keyboard in pieces caught your attention, you approached it, it was on the little table in front of his main couch in his living room.

“You were doing this? What is it?” you asked him with interest.

Felix followed you and stood there with his hands slightly shoved in his pants pockets.

“Oh, it's nothing, just a keyboard, I was just assembling it for fun.”

You looked at him, so tenderhearted, you literally didn't understand anything he said but you really liked him “You're so cute” you blurted out naturally, “Come here” you told him.

Felix sat next to you, obeying you and a little nervous, you approached his face with a smile and he watched you, suddenly you touched his lips, joining you both in an intimate act, you both enjoyed the angelic touch of your lips, but you couldn't help turning it into something more daring, opening your mouth and letting Felix explore inside you, but you noticed him so shy and insecure, you slowly let your body fall over him, you leaned down while your hand nimbly caressed his cock again, he grabbed you by the waist, taking you both into a sizzling and hot make out session.

But you couldn't wait, you were finally alone and it was more than obvious that Felix wanted to take things to another level, so you parted from him, agitated and unashamed, you undressed completely, exalting Felix, totally lost in your naked silhouette, and feeling bad for not having time to appreciate you in underwear, maybe next time; you approached him playfully, taking his shirt, without saying any words and also inviting him to undress. Felix was more than excited, he felt like a first timer exploring sex, as horny as a young man discovering his first porn, you were for him an erotic divinity, exploring every part of him he never thought existed, like the incredible lust and desire for intense sex.

Felix took off his shirt, revealing his thin complexion but marked abdomen, you bit your lip and without thinking twice you got on your knees in front of him, this time looking him in the eyes while you tried to pull down his pants, you caressed his marked abdomen and lowered your hand to unbutton his pants, he helped you to pull it down and playfully you slid all his jeans down his legs, taking them off. Felix gasped as he felt your warm breath near his cock, once again you saw him so yielding, his ears red and his cheeks flushed, you smiled and kissed his stiff cock on the fabric just to tease him some more.

For some strange reason, you loved to hear him so needy, like that time in church when he practically begged you to jerk him off, always so cute and kind not forgetting to say please.

You took his cock, still stimulating it on the cloth, looked him in the eyes and asked, “Do you want me to suck you off, Lix? Do you want to feel my mouth on your cock?”

Felix looked at you perplexed but excited to hear you talk so dirty, but gasped as he felt your tight hand on his member, he felt like he was going to cum at any moment. He nodded encouragingly and desperately.

“Yes-yes please, do it” he requested, pleading with his big eyes and contrasting with his raspy voice.

You smiled brightly and deftly pulled down his boxer shorts, freeing his hard swollen cock, sensitive to have its tip dripping with his precum, so throbbing and ready for use. You took him in, stroking his entire length, stuck out your tongue and your first taste of him was his thick glans, so soft and slippery on your restless tongue, you sucked on his tip, teasing him and causing a little 'pop' sound as you pulled him away from your mouth. Needless to say Felix was in heaven itself, he had never felt this desperate and excited in his life, you were giving him an unforgettable night.

You kissed his length and ran your tongue all around to lubricate it and taste every part of him as you massaged his balls. Even his genitals were as soft as he was, masculine looking, but tender. Felix kept whimpering in a high-pitched whine, unable to control the incredible sexual release that every little thing you did gave him. And finally, you introduced his member in your mouth, making him experience his first blowjob, Felix could not believe it, but it was true, his pasts girlfriends never bothered to satisfy him in such a way… he was always leaning towards the serious and reserved girls and at the end of the day they were, for poor Felix, complete dull in bed, but not for you, you who would love to try everything with Felix. He took his bending index finger into his mouth, biting it hard as he enjoyed the sensation of your cavity embracing his cock while you made eye contact with him, slowly he let himself go, and a little insecurely, took your hair gently, seeing how grotesque and dirty his wet member wrapped in your saliva looked sliding into your mouth, and your hand playing with his testicles, but he still loved it and wondered why he had never experienced it before, why he never felt eager for sex before when it was the most incredible thing in the world, at least for him, right now, and with you.

Felix couldn't take that much, you were stimulating him so well that, with his body trembling and hot gasps, he cummed in your mouth. Leaving you more than happy to finally taste him, he still hadn't finished cumming completely, his trembling, agonizing tip releasing his semen, when you pulled him out of your mouth, just for the pure pleasure of his cum on your lips and face, staining your face a bit with little white drops. You looked him in the eyes, and wiped his cum from your face to then suck your finger, making him hard in moments again, his erection being slightly more painful this time.

You wanted to be touched too, your pussy was throbbing hard and you were so wet and messed up that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly started squirting, so you sat on Felix's lap, so unexpectedly, positioning yourself sideways and not pressing so hard on his cock. Felix saw your naked body with closeness, he couldn't believe how amazing you were making him feel right now. You spread your legs, showing him your soaking wet vulva.

“I-I'm so wet, touch me” you whimpered, taking his hand and placing it on your pussy.

Felix bit his lip hard and understood instantly, gently caressing your labia with his fingers and nimbly finding your clit.

“Mmm, just like that, you're doing so good, it feels good” you gasped.

“W-what was that little name you were calling me before?” whispered Felix in your ear, his thick voice making you twitch.

You smiled broadly, unable to believe what he would be referring to and for him to suddenly show a dirty side as well.

“Daddy” you sighed, you would love to call him that, for some reason you found it exciting, he was a little older to you, he was a man with his own apartment and a steady job, he was more mature than you who were still a college student, his pretty innocent face was something easy to fool you with, but he was still your soft and gentle daddy, caressing your pussy with such care.

Felix felt so good, his cock throbbed as he heard you encouraging him, your hand reached for his cock as you enjoyed his fingers gently caressing you.

“Mm, Daddy, fuck me with your fingers, look at my so wet cunt” you whimpered, trying to separate your entrance with one hand so he could see it.

More precum came out of his tip, his cock and your hand was already sticky from your previous activity, and he wondered how many times he had to cum today, how many more times he had to make a mess, Felix thought at this point he could be an easy sperm donor with the generous amount you make him spill, he was being pleasured like never before, he didn't regret for a second not getting carried away with your game, otherwise you wouldn't be like this with him now, on his lap while you masturbate him and him playing with your soft pussy.

Felix let out a ragged sigh and with his fingers he sought your entrance, gasping as he felt the softness and tightness of his fingers slide inside you.

“Ahhh fuck, daddy, yes, fuck my pussy please” you whimpered.

You shivered as you felt him, his thick fingers slipping in and out of you, while his other hand caressed your breast, leaving you so hungry and eager to have your whole pussy filled and busy. You kissed Felix, who was concentrating on giving you pleasure, as if it were a video game console and he had to press the right button to make you shudder, and he was succeeding. By this time you had already realized that he was a bit inexperienced, his movements were a bit clumsy, he was so needy that you felt his cock throbbing hard in your hand, cumming for the second time.

And you, you were so full of active sexual energy and wanted to fulfill your every fantasy with Felix and needed constant stimulation and pleasure, you bit your lip, you stirred a little to reach up to whisper in his ear, “Let me sit on your pretty face, daddy, please.”

Felix looked at you surprised while you looked at him expectantly, he knew what was coming, even in his lonely college nights he used to watch porn, thinking that horny girls willing to experience all positions and last long minutes in sex just stayed there… but apparently you came out of his reality, you were a dream, the only difference was that he wasn't strong enough to last long minutes without cumming, he did it so often he lost count, he just enjoyed what you subtly ordered him to do.

“Get comfortable daddy so I can sit on your face” you said again more lusciously.

Felix pulled his fingers away from you and watched you stand up as you gently pushed him off his shoulders.

“Relax your body for me, daddy, lay down a little.”

He followed your orders, putting his back and head on the lumpy cushion of his couch, and you expertly squatted down to direct your whole pussy into his mouth, Felix watched a few seconds of your swollen pussy until he felt it in his mouth, you both gasped, his cock twitched, and the next thing he knew is that he must please you. Oh his sweet angel, tasting so good. He stayed with his eyes open, he held his hands on your thighs and saw your naked body above him.

Felix licked, kissed, sucked hard every length of your folds, stimulating your clit with his tongue while all your wetness was rubbing in around the area of his mouth and on his chin. You gasped loudly, it felt so good. His upturned nose gently rubbing your mons venus with your pussy smeared in his mouth.

“Yesss, daddy, you're doing so well, you're such a good daddy, fuck” you whimpered, his soft moans into your pussy as he licked it sent exquisite vibrations, driving you over the edge, “P-put your tongue inside my daddy, please” you begged.

Felix once again sought your entrance, thrusting his tongue in, playing with your dilated, dripping hole, bringing you almost to orgasm.

“Fuck, daddy I'm gonna cum” you whimpered in a high pitched tone, and you cum shuddered in his mouth.

Felix, like a good little boy, sucked hard on every bit of your fluid, gulping it down with delight as he felt another orgasm, his abdomen contracted and his cock twitched on its own, so painful and pleasurable, he climaxed all over his marked abs.

You shuddering, got off his face and appreciated the mess of his pretty, swollen lips stained with you.

“I'm gonna fuck you now, daddy” you said again animated and happy, still not letting Felix catch his breath. You positioned yourself on top of him, rubbing your folds on his cock and realized he cum once again, you smiled smugly, “Fuck, daddy, did you cum again? Did you liked my pussy that much, huh?” you said innocently, biting your lip as you held onto his abs, starting to rub yourself on his cock.

Felix loved the softness with which you spoke vulgarities, so he, aroused, dared to say in something that came out of him in a more low tone:

“Fuck, yes, princess, I loved your pussy.”

You were so surprised, his voice almost vibrating your body that you couldn't hold back any longer. You took his cock and directed it to your entrance, letting yourself fall all the way down his length, making you both gasp.

“Mm daddy your cock fits perfectly on me. Do you like my cunt in your cock daddy?”

“Y-yes” Felix whimpered needily as he felt you rubbing all over your wet pussy on him, stimulating his balls.

“Is it tight?”

“Oh fuck yeah, very tight, angel.”

“I'm gonna fuck you daddy, gonna make you fill up my pussy.”

And you began to move, sliding all over his cock, feeling how it was built right for you, yet it felt so tight to your pussy, it drove you crazy. Felix hadn't fucked in years, he never made a big deal about it but now, he was in heaven itself, he could die in your arms and he wouldn't matter, he would leave very well satisfied.

“Oh, fuck, yesss, it feels so good” he groaned.

He held you by the waist, panting deeply between each thrust and movement you brought to his cock, it felt so good, the way your insides embraced his cock, echoing through his apartment with the brutal sounds of your wet pussy colliding with his member. Felix was so close again, the vein in his neck showing, feeling so guilty about cumming inside you, but the feel of your internal organ buried in his cock made him see stars, maybe now he's obsessed with you and the feel of your pussy in him.

You noticed him so close, his hands shaking now squeezed your breasts and you sped up your movements.

“Cum for me daddy, please” you asked him, while at the same time you felt so close too.

Felix squeezed your breasts hard, shouted an “Oh, god” in a rough voice and cum intensely in you, ten times more intense than all the previous times.

You bit your lip, still moving in him waiting for your orgasm until it took your whole body, combining with Felix's cum sliding down his length and into your entrance. You pulled out of him, and gasped at the grotesque act of your hole expelling both fluids.

Breathless and a mess, you let yourself fall back on Felix's heaving slender chest. He wiped his mouth a little, took your face in his hands and began to give you little kisses around your face making you laugh, Felix may have fallen in love with you a little.

[ruiniel]

Another Way - XII

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Summary: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what’s more they can’t understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, character-meets-world, Near Death Experiences, References to loss, Grief/Mourning, Fantasy, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, Slow burn, References to canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, POV Alucard, POV original character, More tags to be added

Also on AO3

Part I

AN: been a while

XII.

He doesn’t like coffee.

This becomes quite apparent with the different flavor of mild disgust over his features after each sip.

“It’s an acquired taste for some,” you try saying with a straight face, because it is more amusing than you’d thought to see a grown man with a perfect jaw and bedroom hair seated at your small table, coming up with the most telling, candid expressions. 

After breakfast—during which he insists on turning the cooker on and off, ‘to learn’, and during which, once again, he eats little to nothing—you head over to your desk and obtain for him the work Adrian asked for. It’s not difficult to find, and happens to be the first book printed in the English language, in the 1400s. 

“Is… this it?”

His enthusiasm says ‘yes’ when seeing the title page, and you let him take your place and scroll through as you head to get ready for the adventure of helping him look less conspicuous. “All right, enjoy your courtly romance, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“All right.”

You pause, turning to stare but his eyes are feverish on the screen, attention absorbed by the text. Whatever works. You decided to stop wondering. 

Having made yourself presentable enough to be outside, you tap back into the room on bare feet. “Ready to g—...” you trail off at the sound. His voice. His voice, with that same mild inflection, but the words are oddly shaped to the ear.

He’s reading aloud from the online scan you fetched him, nodding, writing in the agenda.

“What’s… this?” You near him, narrowing your eyes at the screen. 

Adrian turns to you with an excitement you’d not seen or felt in a long, long while. Somehow, it’s endearing. This side feels like him too, a natural expression in contrast with all those confused, dour moods he’d been mired in. 

“I need…” He pauses, hand in his hair, eyebrows pinched together. 

“What… do you need?...” 

He points at the scan of the text, long fingers gliding along the little black rows of archaic words. “... from now.”

“From now?... Oh! A modern version, you mean? From our time?”

Adrian nods. “Possible?”

“Y-yeah. There might be one… wait…” As you search it for him, Adrian waits patiently with his arms crossed, rubbing at his chin. “I get it. You want to learn modern vocabulary equivalents, don't you?” You bring up the 1400s version of the work again. “Wait… you understand this one?” Not that it's impossible, shouldn’t be. But you didn't exactly take him for someone pursuing comparative historical linguistics.

“Yes,” comes the answer, leaving you bemused.

“You know what? I won't even ask. Go ham. Here, I found it.” 

As he nears and glues himself to the screen, you dare to gently pull on his sleeve.

“Remember…clothes?”

Adrian blinks in realization, then stares back at the screen with a sort of longing. You get it. He’s making a breakthrough here, or so he thinks, one that’ll be of help in wading through terrain unfamiliar to him. 

But the rare practical side of you insists. “You can pick this up when we get back, right?”

He meets your eyes, nodding in acceptance. “Right.”

~~

The bell rings as you open the door to the second hand shop you sometimes frequent, looking behind you to see Adrian entering with care, gazing about with mild interest. 

“Well, here we are,” you say as he meets your stare, before looking towards the shop attendant who’s sitting behind a desk, phone in hand, chewing on some gum and watching the both of you with piqued interest—no, rather, watching him.

You cough, “Hi, we’re looking for some—” 

“Men’s wear is over there,” she answers, not taking her eyes off Adrian.

“All right, thanks.” Starting to think this is a typical reaction. You make a gesture, urging him to follow. 

He has a befuddled look on his face, but walks after you as you reach the rows of clothing boasting jeans, t-shirts and jackets. 

“So, listen.” You turn, waving a hand around the space. “You look for something you like.” You pull at your own blouse, pants, and coat. “And there’s a cabin over there, where you can try stuff out, if you like.”

He seems to understand, nodding and tentatively following your lead as you rummage through the merch on display. You notice the way he feels the garments, looking at you with a question in his eyes.

“Take your time,” you offer, going over and taking a seat on a chair. 

It doesn’t take long, really. Soon enough he’s gathered a few items under his arm, a bundle of… mostly black, cream and white garments. “Want to try these on?” you ask when he nears, standing before you, uncertain.

When Adrian doesn’t reply but tilts his head in slight confusion, you rise and walk towards the cabin, drawing the curtain and showing him the space. “In you go, let me know if…” You pause as he pulls the worn shirt over his head without much ado, spinning around and drawing the curtain behind him. “... call if you need help,” you mumble, stiffly walking away.

Your heart beats strangely, faster as you meet the stare of the shop clerk, who apparently has less important things to do than follow your exchange. 

Whatever. You go and idly sift through the items of clothing, humming to yourself. 

“Your boyfriend’s out,” comes the clerk’s voice after a while, and you blink in confusion, head swiveling to stare at her.

 “Oh, he’s not my—” Before you can finish that thought, movement has you turning in time to see Adrian emerging from the cabin. 

“Right, uh, you look… they fit, don’t they?" Heat rises to your face, damn the air conditioning. 

Black faded jeans, tight. A simple, white fitted t-shirt—was he always this…slim? Fit? A dark blue coat, reaching to his knees. “They look like they fit,” you follow, scratching your head. 

“Oh yeah, they sure do,” comes the young shop attendant’s voice, and a niggling sensation you’ve been unfamiliar with pinches at your mood. 

Adrian seems to agree, looking at himself, then at you. “Good?” he says in English.

You nod. “Yeah, good. That’s one round. Things here are affordable, so uh…” you retrieve your phone, type it in, and translate. “Find another item of each, to have spare clothing.”

He’s surprisingly efficient after that, and it’s not long before you’re returning to your apartment block, Adrian following with a bag in each hand. 

“Okay, that was relatively painless,” you comment, turning to look over your shoulder at him, and—

“Adrian?...”

His expression is frozen, light-amber eyes wide and lips parted. It’s not out of fear as much as it is… consternation?

You turn back around, a different tremor running through your limbs at the person approaching.

A tall woman, wearing a flowing white dress suit, her red coat slung over one forearm. Her long, straight dark hair is done up in a ponytail, swinging languidly with each step taken on black pumps. She’s always had a distinct sense of style. Her attitude is the usual—one of those people carrying themselves like the world lies in wait at their feet. You never did know how to feel about her, nor do you know much about her. You do know this is but one of many businesses she has under her care. Well to do, in any case.

Guess it had to happen sooner or later. “Mrs. Hawke, hello.”

The landlady smiles in greeting, blue eyes alighting first on you, then focusing beyond your shoulder. She lands a hand on her hip, “How have you been, my dear?” 

The question was directed at you, but you’re perceptive enough—you like to think—to notice the unspoken query following the first. 

“Doing well, um. You know how it is…”

“Mm.” Her eyes are still on Adrian, but her gaze is different from that of the store clerk earlier. It holds no fascination, merely a calculating sort of curiosity that disappears the moment she stares back at you.

“I actually wanted to contact you, but didn’t get to until now. You see, Adrian here will be staying for a while, and I know that affects the rent, so…”

Mrs. Hawke tilts her chin. “That’s right, normally so—do you have an idea as to how long your additional tenant will be staying?...”

“Um. Well, I…” You feel an urge to turn and look at Adrian, but somehow her stare arrests you enough that you can’t.

Just then, she waves a hand. “You know, nevermind. I know you’ve had a difficult time lately. Consider no fee added to the rent, for now.”

The impossible has happened. Mrs. Hawke, being… lenient? Forgoing business? Not asking the ‘how’ and the ‘who’ and the ‘why’?

“Er… you mean it? Really?” Your jaw might be somewhere on the floor for all you know.

She nods. “I do. If the time of stay extends indefinitely, then that’s another matter, of course… but for now, we should be fine.”

“Thank… you…?”

She laughs, a light, glittering sound. “Oh don’t look at me like that. After all…” her gaze flicks back behind you, only briefly. “Life does seem to hold all manner of… surprises, doesn’t it?”

There’s something unusual in her tone, but, ah, the prospect of not having to scrounge up more money regularly is a godsend. “You can say that again…”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run!” And she does just that, without another glance, leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

“Well, I’ll be…” you murmur, then remember Adrian. “What is it about you, seriously? It's either the worst of luck or the strangest change... Adrian?”

His stare is unfocused, like something blew a fuse behind his eyes. When you touch his arm, he snaps out of it with a start. “Let’s go up?... You wanted to continue reading, didn’t you?”

Shaking his head like someone having been splashed with ice-cold water, Adrian looks down at you. “... reading. Yes. Let’s…let’s go.”

Picking up fast, you think as he walks ahead of you towards the elevator. And maybe it’s just you, but his steps are more determined than before.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI

Taglist: @hornyf0ckers @the-keep-under-gresit @pencildrawer12 (this is old, let me know if you want to be removed!)

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

AN:

Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye (1464) is a translation by William Caxton of a French courtly romance written by Raoul Lefèvre.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Remember Me

WinterSoldier!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Just a short piece that I managed to finish. I know it's not a lot, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💕

warnings: a bunch of fluff and angst, mentions of war, mentions of sexism, swearing, Bucky is really broken in this one, happy ending (:

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Proceed with caution, unidentified shooter on bridge. I repeat: unidentified shooter. It is not clear what the motive is. Take cover and shoot on sight.”

“Dispatch, this is Captain America - we’ll take it from here.”

“With all due respect, Cap, I will keep my men on site to keep your cover.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do for you, sir.”

“Stop chatting it up with the police and do your job, Rogers.”

“Alright, alright.”

You chuckled and turned to Tony. “How long are we out?”

“Three minutes, 46 seconds.” 

“You gonna survive that long, Stevie?”

“That guy’s got a good aim on him, gotta give him that.”

Muffled noises pushed through your earpiece before you stepped into the back of the Quinjet to gear up. 

“Can’t let him do anything. It’s one guy they’re fighting... one.”

“Yeah, one Hydra-trained assassin who’s apparently immortal and got more deaths on his record than Romanoff.”

You huffed as the meeting recollected in your mind. The Winter Soldier had been the newest pain in the Avenger’s asses ever since you discovered that Hydra was still operating in the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“They’re just making a show out of everything, huh?” 

You strapped your gloves over your wrists and watched as Tony chuckled in the pilot seat. You and him had become good friends over the past few years. Ever since you and Steve had been discovered in the frozen airship of what you had thought to be your last mission about 70 years ago, you and Captain America had woken up in a vastly different world. One through which Howard’s son, Tony, gladly guided you. 

Both you and Steve were overwhelmed by the amount of changes the world had endured while you had soundly served your time as human popsicles, though Captain America seemed to struggle a little more with 21st-century technology and norms. 

It was fine, Steve had always been a little old-fashioned, even back in the day. You for one were delighted to learn about all the opportunities the world had to offer for women and other people who couldn’t have dreamed of any in the 40s. Because while Steve was celebrated for being the face of hope for the American people, you were still dodging snide comments doubting your place in the Army. And while you tried not to let anyone see the toll it took on you, it was the reason for enough nights you spent with Peggy sharing stories over a bottle of wine. 

You both decided the important men in your life should never find out. Though, of course, your not-so-secret didn’t stay hidden from Bucky for long. Which was one of the reasons you had jumped on that plane with Steve. Even when Bucky was already dead. Even when Steve was still oblivious. You constantly needed to prove yourself. But this one time, it had actually changed something – well, time had. 

You shook your head free of that thought and walked towards the cargo hatch. Tony had landed the Quinjet – it was go time. 

“Ready?”

“That guy won’t know what happened to him when we’re done with him.”

“Let’s rock his world, then,” Tony winked before his helmet closed and he flew out of the jet. You were close behind him, running the short distance from the ramp to the bridge from which you swung yourself off with a grappling hook. 

“What’s the status?”

“I’ve been shot.”

“I’ve got it, Bearcat check on Steve. He looks ridiculously helpless.”

“Roger that,” you sprinted towards the two fighting men on the street, as the Winter soldier threw Steve to the ground, his shield nowhere to be seen. 

“Okay, my turn.” You stepped in front of him, analyzing his movements, and dodging punches, trying to get some in yourself. 

“Oh come on, that’s not fair.” You huffed when he took a knife out of your leg holster and almost acrobatically threw it over your head just to graze your cheek with the blade. 

He had knocked off your guns at this point, leaving you with choking wire and some smaller daggers in your jacket. When he turned the right angle, you jumped his shoulders and locked your thighs around his neck, kicking the knife out of his hand and watching as he ripped your choking wire in half. Damn.

“Now, that’s not nice.” You threw the torn metal to the side as The winter soldier struggled to get you off him. A look to Steve told you he had a new plan, and with a short nod, you signaled your understanding to him. 

“But if you wanna be like that...” Steve threw you his shield and in a swift motion you managed to drag it over the soldier's head. He pushed his metal arm forward just in time, though your hit had already knocked the mask off his face. 

When the shield came down, you heard Steve’s footsteps halt next to you, the world going quiet. 

Your stomach churned when you watched blue eyes twitch between the dark smudges. Familiar and oh-so strange at the same time. 

“Bucky?” Steve stammered, and at the sound of his name, goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

The Winter Soldier’s look darkened before he reached for a gun. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

From then on, the day seemed like a blur. You remembered Sam knocking Bucky down and the lot of you flying back to the compound on standby. Steve was functioning a lot better than you were, considering the man you thought to be dead for over 70 years was currently handcuffed to a handrail on your jet. 

James “Bucky” fucking Barnes. Captain America’s best friend, founding member of the howling commandos, infamous war hero apparently turned assassin, and the man who stole your heart somewhere along the way. 

You dared a glance at the chained-up, unconscious brunette in the corner as Steve sat down next to you, a calming hand squeezing your shoulder. 

“Can I get you anything?”

You ignored him. “How are you not freaking out?” You whispered through glassy eyes instead. 

Steve’s expression softened when he pulled you into his chest, his other hand pressing your head further into him. His heart was hammering beneath his ribcage, his fingers cold to the touch. 

“I am. Just trying to be a captain.” His voice was strained when he mumbled into your hair. 

You just nodded in understanding, finding comfort in the fact you weren’t the only one feeling this way. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You watched him through the glass of the interrogation room with your arms crossed before your chest. Buck was sitting at the table, his head hung low, his dark hair falling in wet stands into his face. He didn’t move a muscle. For half an eternity, he stared at the table his wrists were chained to, almost statue-like. But when he finally looked up, you could see the confusion and nervousness in his ocean-blue eyes. 

They had given him time to recover, to shower, and feel like a human again. They forced him into normal clothes and offered him a bed to sleep. But it wasn’t enough. The man you were looking at was terrified and lost - exhausted and overwhelmed. 

Bucky visibly tensed when the door opened and Steve stepped into his sight. They spent the next hour reconstructing his past. Steve told him how he had ended up in the 21st century and by the end of their conversations, the tension was a lot less static.

“She’s alive,” Bucky stated and tore his eyes away from Steve to look at the one-way glass.

“She’s a tough one. Survived the crash without super soldier serum and came out of the ice just as unharmed as I did.” 

“What are the odds?” Bucky chuckled bitterly. “What are the fucking odds we all end up together again?” 

Steve only gifted his friend a sympathetic smile along with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Take it as a chance.”

“Feels like a punishment.” 

They were locking eyes and even though you were watching the interaction from the outside, you could feel the atmosphere turn somber. The men were staring at each other in silence for a while, though you knew there was an entire discussion happening in their eyes.

“Does she... does she want to see me?” Bucky’s voice was hesitant and broken. And you couldn’t help but somehow imagine a different question nestled in his words. 

You almost had to stop yourself from touching the glass with your hands, wanting to tell him that you were already seeing him - really seeing him. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Steve stood and with a last smile to Bucky, he exited the room. 

This was it. The door was open. The love of your life sitting only a few feet from it. Though it seemed like he was trapped inside another’s body. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Steve murmured as he stood in the doorway looking at you by the window. And you just nodded, trying to suppress your pulse rushing in your ears. 

“Thanks.” It was only a whisper. You weren’t used to your voice being this small. And Steve didn’t seem so either. He was looking at you with sad eyes, fists clenched by his sides. There was nothing he could do to make you feel better. Not this time. And he seemed to know so. With one last tight smile, he sent a short nod your way and then left. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky didn’t look at you when you finally built up the courage to step inside his room. He was much bigger than you remembered. Thick muscles adorned his arms and shoulders. Shaggy, longer hair fell from his head and over his scrunched brows. His left arm was entirely of metal, a red star reminding him who had taken claim to him several decades ago. 

If you hadn’t known, the man before you had almost no resemblance to the soldier you loved in 1941. He had been lean and full of life. He was broken now. And you were terrified someone had taken the very thing from him that would keep him from becoming himself again. 

Without a word you approached Bucky, cupped his hands with yours, and undid the restraints that tied him to the table. And this was the first time he looked at you. Really looked at you. Bucky’s piercing blue stare was full of awe and sorrow, a deep pain etched beneath the grey flecks within the vibrant color. 

You sat down beside him. 

“Hey.” Your voice was shaky, dragging a long silence in its wake that only made your heart beat faster. 

“Hello,” Bucky finally whispered, breaking the spell. His voice was a raw timbre, like a long-forgotten melody. And so much more tangible now that you weren’t listening to it through a speaker. 

But that was it. Neither of you spoke afterward. 

There was so much that could have been said, so much that could have been exchanged, known, explored about the other. And yet it didn’t feel like any of the words known to you were enough to break the static tension in the room. You were just looking at Bucky, scanning every part of his body like it was a flash card for the most important test of your life. 

So, here you were: With the opportunity of a lifetime right at your fingertips and the confidence of a kicked puppy settled deep in your wounded soul. The person you had known for the longest looked so timid as if he were looking at a stranger. Not that he had ever been shy about strangers back in the day. But this was different. This was strange and beautiful, and scary, and exciting. No book in the world held the answers as to what to do in this situation. 

And the solution was so easy: you just had to say something. So why didn’t your damn mouth open?

The speaker above your heads crackled and then Tony’s voice rang through the room. And for the first time in what felt like hours, a tiny bit of the weight on your shoulders lifted with it. “Bearcat, If you don’t open your mouth and put the guy out of his misery in 5 seconds, I’ll personally mediate this incredibly static confrontation.”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the mirror, knowing full well Tony was watching you despite your asking him to leave. You mouthed a ‘shut it’ towards the glass and then turned in shock when a familiar voice rose from the silence.”

“Bearcat?”

You stared at Bucky with soft eyes. There was an innocence in the way he slowly guided this conversation - almost like he’d always had. It was an easy question, a nice entry to the heavier stuff that was bound to be discussed. 

And just as you began to explain, it dawned on you how much you had missed about each other. How differently your life could have been if it weren’t for the cruel turn of fate.

“When Steve and I were discovered, S.H.I.E.L.D. was our home for a long time. They tried to put us in apartments, even set us up with chaperones to guide us through the new century.” Bucky looked intrigued, even leaning forth as he listened intently. You wondered if he ever realized how much time had passed when he was the winter soldier... if anyone ever cared to tell him. “But it wasn’t until I met Natasha that I felt like I had arrived. She showed me so many things and trained with me until I became an agent here. Howard’s son came up with the nickname. He reminds me of him.” You smiled and shook your head “He’s a pain in my ass but a genius that can be genuinely helpful even though I don’t want to admit it at times. I haven’t grasped the explanation fully, but apparently, my fast learning and efficiency when it came to fighting reminded him of one of those small powerful fighter jets that were finished just after the war.” You chuckled at the memory before your eyes found Becky’s again only to see pain all over his face. 

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and hit the floor before you could see it stain his skin. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was shaking, his body trying to make itself smaller but failing miserably with all the muscle surrounding it. He took up the room and your heart right along with it.

“Hey you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me.” You cradled his face and his hands instantly covered yours, only for his metal one to retract just as fast again. He was sorrowful and it made your heart ache. 

“You’ve been navigating through so much alone and this is yet another thing you had to do without me.” He confessed through his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t changed within - always caring for everyone around him and never putting himself first.

“I’m fine. Was then and am now.” You ensured him. “If you want to worry about someone, take Steve. He’s a lot more overwhelmed than I am.” Bucky chuckled through his tears, a deep seriousness settling in his eyes. “If anything, I’m sorry we didn’t save you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” And there it was: a glimpse of the loving, caring, charming man you’d known so many years ago. A small smile snuck onto your face at the revelation and a spark of hope shot through your body. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you confessed, "We never had the time to actually be just us. To live all the dreams we shared back then.” 

Bucky's eyes were full of sorrow before he closed them and pressed his forehead to yours. “I wish I could say I missed you,” he whispered and slung his arm around you, “But I didn’t remember.”

“And that’s not your fault, you hear me.” Your hand stroked over his damp hair, pulling it back and making Bucky look at you again. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever doubt yourself. What happened to you is horrible. And I vow to kill every single person responsible for keeping us apart for this long. But not once will anyone ever consider this your fault.”

Bucky averted his eyes and turned his head but you were quick to catch his face with your hand. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Let Steve and me handle the rest and focus on becoming comfortable in your skin again. I can’t wait to meet the man you can become.”

“You don’t want to know me, doll. Not anymore. Even if it wasn’t my fault, it changed me. I’m not the man you-“ he stopped talking as you watched regret flash over his features. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t care what I deserve, Bucky. I want you. I always have and that won’t change because some bullies tried to brainwash you. The very fact that we are here talking like this shows how much stronger you are than them. How the good in you never wavered.”

“But I can’t even trust myself. How can I expect you to do so of me?”

You cradled his head harsher as you felt your own tears roll down your cheek. “All I need is for you to try and trust me. We’ll figure this out... like we always do.”

Bucky’s flesh hand had fallen to your thigh, a soft thumb stroking over your leg and he watched the movement in awe. You didn’t know how long it had been since he had last felt comfort but you were determined to make up for all the lost time. With the wild beating of your heart, you took his metal hand and laved your fingers with his, watching as Bucky’s eyes glued to your smaller hand in his. There was no fear of what could happen, no aversion towards the alien element attached to his body. And then, finally, he encased your hand with his silver fingers. 

Your other hand still stroked his cheek and you waited until he caught your gaze again. And once he did, you did not hesitate to slowly push your lips to his. 

Just a short, sweet kiss. One that held more words than you could ever say. And then you waited. What for? Maybe a rejection, the shake of his head, or the sheer confidence with which he used to kiss you decades back. 

Bucky’s breaths were shaky, his hands still touching you and sending softly timid comfort through your body. He held your gaze for a second... and then, he finally kissed you back. 

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[hothammies]

concept designs for the zombie apocalypse au i'm working on - pt. 2 (small au details under the cut regarding their wardrobe)

---

max's design

takes off her jean jacket during supply runs / fights - used to be billy's jacket

signature weapon is a sawblade baseball bat - was taught how to swing from billy but the bat was modified by dustin

lucas' design

has started wearing jackets less and switched to dress shirts - the jackets were getting in the way of his new shoulder holster

signature weapon is a crossbow / revolver - the best marksman of the group and most knowledgeable with guns (his dad taught him everything as a war veteran) can really use anything!

dustin's design

found his vest off of some dead biker guy, thought it looked sick, and hasn't taken it off since - he puts pins on it to personalize it

no real signature weapon because he tends to stick away from fighting, more support - he knows basic fighting skills but is a beast with his crafted weapons (e.g. bomb traps, molotovs, etc)

is the pack mule when it comes to supply runs - he stays with mike and will to scout but brings a heavy backpack with possible backup supplies / weapons if need be

---

other notes: wanted to share that the apocalypse starts in 2019 while the kids were born in 2015. the first arc of the story takes place in apocalyptic 2028 and so on (their current designs are for arc 3). reason? i wanted them to experience some of the music and technology up to the 21st century :] i'll make a more official story thing later! maybe i'll write something for this au or draw a comic? idk my creative writing skills are pretty weak but we'll never know until we try LMAO

[alicentral]

This is a response to a hotd critical post about the "favouritism towards Greens in screen time ratio", and I think it's so interesting how team black also feel like they're being fucked over by the showrunners when, to me, it's blindingly obvious that it's the other way round.

Not only are the show runners villainising the greens, not the blacks, they've also gone out of their way to make the blacks seem like the badass heroes who can do no wrong, and this is the root of the problem for both team black and team green. It oversimplifies the dance and goes against the themes and message of the whole book, rendering the characters either inconsistent, one-dimensional, and worst of all, flat and boring.

Lets start off with the greens. The argument that the showrunners are "gagging on the greens" doesn't hold up when we actually think about it for more than 2 seconds.

With the source material of hotd being a fictional history book with different biases and perspectives (emphasis on different perspectives), the showrunners have cherry picked what to adapt, and have chosen to take the worst of the greens as the objective truth and erase their good moments as "green propaganda". The main example that comes to mind is aegon. Plenty of other people have talked about this in depth before, but in f&b, aegon raping a girl was a rumour spread by mushroom, a narrator with a clear black bias who wasn't even in kings landing at the time. There was no reason in adapting this rumour other than to demonise aegon, and by extension, team green. The way the scene is framed, it is clear that it was never about dyana, how the rape affected her mentally, emotionally, socially, physically. For a supposedly feminist show, dyana's rape was a throwaway scene, it never had any impact on the story further. So what was the point of the scene other than to tell the audience "look at what a monster aegon is. How can you support someone like that?" And it works.

You can see on social media, any time there's something vaguely positive about the greens, you have hoards of people comment "yeah but he's a rapist" "how can you support a rapist?", etc. It forces you to side with team black. Later in the show, the audience gets to know that aegon's dick burst "like a sausage". Why would the audience need to know this? Aegon's mutilated dick is presented as "karma" for dyana and is only meant to humiliate him. And again, after this revelation, so many people on social media were making fun of his "burnt sausage". They've made a laughingstock of aegon, and as the figurehead of team green, it's clear that we're not meant to side with team green.

Furthermore, in bastardising, and sometimes, even completely erasing the relationships between team green, the showrunners have dehumanised them and made them irredeemable villains, because, again, we were never meant to side with those who "usurped the rightful queen".

The loyalty and commitment the greens had to one another made them such compelling characters and heavily shaped their central motivations and actions. Aegon only took the crown to protect his family. Aemond, after rooks rest, never called himself a king, only lord protecter even though he knows he would've made a better king than aegon. Daeron torched the riverlands to get to his mother and sister and sacked bitterbridge as revenge for his nephew. Helaena offered up her life for her son, and chose to sacrifice maelor because she knew he wouldn't understand what was happening. Their actions may not be necessarily good (and in daeron's case, actually happen to be war crimes), and their motivations may be morally grey, but they're understandable, they're sympathetic, seeing as it was out of love and loyalty, something that 21st century society can relate to. Without these complex and compelling ties, the audience is left asking why would the greens stick together if they all seemingly can't stand each other? Why fight for aegon if he doesn't even seem to care for them? What was the point in having the crown then? As a result, the characterisations feel one-dimensional (helaena being reduced to being just an "innocent" amidst her bloodthirsty family) or inconsistent (alicent. just her entire story arc. it could've been interesting if done right, but alas, no such luck), or rushed (suddenly aemond wants to be king in his own right after defending his brother's claim at storms end).

This isn't to say that team green are perfect, far from it, but the close emotional ties and relationships could've been used to elevate the internal conflicts in the show. We could've had complex characters who aren't necessarily good, but they're family and they stick together despite their personal grievances.

And this isn't even mentioning their bonds with their dragons. Where was vhagar roaring when aemond's eye was cut out? Aegon and sunfyre had the closest bond between dragon and human and that was given to rhaenyra in the show and where is dreamfyre?

One last thing on the greens, they are presented as incompetent and not equipped to rule, which is meant to show how it would be oh so much better if rhaenyra was on the throne. Criston parading meleys' head is framed as stupid as meleys was "a beloved dragon", ignoring the fact that she murdered hundreds of smallfolk at the coronation. Alicent is presented as stupid for thinking that after rooks rest, the small council would appoint her the queen, aegon in the small council was meant to be laughed at. Of course, this begs the question, if the greens were meant to be a mess of a faction with only 3 functioning dragons and now 2 effective dragon riders, how did they hold out against the blacks for so long? It's clear that the showrunners haven't thought this through.

So yeah, i don't really understand what this person was trying to say when they say that the showrunners are "gagging on the greens" when they are demonised, humiliated and stripped of compassion. I would like to say here, nothing i've said about the greens here is new to team green fans, and so many more people have gone into more depth about this.

Lets move onto the blacks. In a conflict where no side was meant to be in the right (who has the right to rule is a beast for another day), where there were no winners, only losers, where a dynastic dispute almost tore down the entire aforementioned dynasty, the blacks are framed as the heroes, the side the audience should root for. If they come off as villainised to the audience, i don't think it was done on purpose.

Opposite to the greens, they're mistakes and flaws are glossed over. I think this is the main reason why team black falls flat as opposed to lack of screen time, which i don't really want to count.

An important example of this is blood and cheese. In f&b, blood and cheese was a horrific event which drove queen helaena mad and, importantly, was meant to murder one of aegon and helaena's sons in revenge for lucerys. A son for a son. It was always meant to be jaehaerys. By making blood and cheese all one big mistake in the show, with aemond as the real target and oops, we can't find him so jaehaerys will do, team black and rhaenyra can't be held accountable for the murder of an innocent 6 year old boy. Moreover, the fact that rhaenyra never knew or sanctioned the murder, and it was all daemon going rogue, rhaenyra is even further removed from the horrific murder of a child, because, of course, our heroine can't be responsible for anything bad, she's meant to be the one in the right!

Furthermore, condal and hess try to force the smallfolk's love of rhaenyra during the dance, contrary to the book, which serves to uphold rhaenyra's right to the throne and show how team black are the right side. During the blockade on kings landing, the smallfolk conveniently forget that she's the one causing the blockade when she sends food through (showing that she could've done that at any time). The cheering for rhaenyra and the riot makes no sense, as again, she was the one who caused the blockade in the first place.

The introduction of the prophecy also is only meant to justify any "wrong" rhaenyra and team black do. The death of the dragonseeds and the smallfolk were all in the name of a prophecy so it's ok. And this is the thing which infuriates me the most, because the prophecy could've been a fascinating aspect of team black's motivations if framed right. The idea of committing atrocities in the name of a believed divine, higher purpose could've been used to expand upon team black's character growth and internal conflict vis a vis the knights templar and the crusades. How do they feel about this? Are they even aware of what they're doing? Alas, the show itself buys into the prophecy, buys into the divine purpose and suddenly, the atrocities aren't presented as "that bad" anyways. All of that to say, the show has never intentionally villainised team black.

So we've established that as the heroes, team black can't do anything wrong, and if they do, it's for a higher purpose, so it's alright. Team black's "emotions and conflicts are made secondary" not to "disposable filler scenes of Greens", but to themselves, or rather, to rhaenyra and her right to rule. So many team black scenes were used to uplift rhaenyra to show how she is the rightful queen. The main two examples of this that stick out to me is baela rebuking jace when he rightfully questions rhaenyra's decisions and daemon's whole harrenhal arc, which serves as his redemption and so he can reaffirm his commitment to rhaenyra's right to rule. Of course it's going to be "a bore" if the main characters, the ones we're meant to be cheering haven't got anything going for them except for cheering on rhaenyra.

There's no character interaction, no character growth, no real internal conflict because from the beginning, team black has been presented as in the right and can do no wrong, so there's no room to grow, no room to develop, not because of lack of screen time. When character development almost breaks through (see: jace questioning rhaenyra), it's quickly quashed, because the audience needs to be reminded that rhaenyra is always right. There's a clear good and bad side that the show is trying to force, which doesn't work in this setting because it reinforces the idea of the divine right of kings, the idea that one person, one family is superior to all others, and that person is rhaenyra here. It undermines the idea that no one was in the right for the atrocities they committed. No one can be justified and that fundamentally, these are not good people, they're interesting characters (or could've been interesting characters), but they're not good people.

So why? Why are the blacks presented as the good side and the greens presented as evil? It all comes down to the fact that the showrunners have propagated the idea that the dance is about a woman's struggle to rule in the face of misogyny, rather than the decline of house targaryen due to their belief in targaryen exceptionalism or the consequences of the pursuit of power. Sure, feminism and misogyny is one aspect of the dance, but it's not a major driving factor. The showrunners have backed themselves into a corner here, because they trying to portray the dance through a modern feminist lens, and so they believe that they can't write women being flawed or evil, and so we get the free, liberated good side and the "misogynistic", conservative bad side.

So in conclusion, it is clear that the showrunners aren't villainising the blacks as this person believes, but the greens. In doing this, they've made a clear cut good and bad side which works to the detriment of both team black and team green. It leads team green's characterisation to be inconsistent and one-dimensional and it chokes team black from having character growth.

Listen, i don't know if team black truly have less screen time than team green, but if they do, it's not the reason why team black falls flat.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jared Yates Sexton at Dispatches From A Collapsing State:

At the end of last week I released an episode of Audio From A Collapsing State talking about the emotional toll of the first few days of the Trump Administration. I think it was pretty obvious that it was designed to be a blitz of executive orders and action intended to assert power. Authoritarianism is weaponized abuse and as it is realized it communicates to the subject an inability to stop the will of the authoritarians and reinforces a sense of powerful isolation. Well. We made it through the first week. It was hard. It was painful. And I’m sure some of us are worse for wear.

I want to emphasize once more the need for self-care. Any attempt to organize and fight back begins with protecting yourself and ensuring you’re all right, energized, and prepared for the next onslaught. Talk to people you can trust. Establish actual reality outside of this nonsense they’re peddling. Remember to continue thinking about a better future. Limit the time authoritarians can affect you by logging off and sealing yourself off. And try and find things that bring you joy and, if possible, produce tangible artifacts that demonstrate how projects that take time and energy lead to things. Considering the toll, I do want to take a moment today to discuss something hopeful. That’s difficult, of course, when the President of the United States is joking about seeking a third term between cutting off federal funding, flagrantly violating the law multiple times, attacking the Constitution, attempting to expel transgender people from the military and culture writ large, and immigration raids are ongoing. I’m sure that paragraph alone was tiring, because of course it is. Never mind that it doesn’t even begin to cover the things that have happened in just the past couple of days. But that feeling, as powerful as it is, also leads us to the subject of hope. Because it is overwhelming, because it is exhausting, because it is chaotic and unarguably wrong, we are beginning to see signs that this will not continue on unabated and unopposed.

The Backlash

It’s necessary sometimes to put yourself in the shoes of the authoritarian. This helps in understanding key components of the ideology, but also in anticipating what directions they might go. I’ve been doing this for years now and I can admit it isn’t fun in any way, shape, or form. Regardless, it does pay dividends. When it comes to the implementation of authoritarianism, there are different strategies. You could roll it out slowly, which we have seen to some extent over the past few years. Then, there are moments in which things speed up. Sometimes this comes after an especially painful and motivating crisis, like the burning down of the Reichstag or a terrorist attack. In these situations, things change very quickly.

The emotional experience of authoritarianism riding on the back of a crisis is chaotic-making and, as we’ve seen in the 21st century, it can lead to insane scenarios like the bipartisan backing of the so-called War on Terror. But, presently, we’re in a different place. Donald Trump’s presidency already feels like it’s lasted several months. This is a result of a flurry of action that runs counter to how most administrations tend to ease into place and take a measured, careful approach. Instead, Trump is carrying out the agenda given to him by the think-tanks and institutes run by his billionaire benefactors, engaging in gleeful cruelty, destroying any government projects that don’t benefit the wealthy, and handing everything over to the oligarchs who have bought him.

This is a vulnerable period for authoritarianism as it is a stark departure from what we have seen in the past. The blitz was meant to push us kicking and screaming into a reality of their choosing, but the haphazardly aggressive nature of the push gifts us an incredible opportunity. If we can manage to get out of the dirt, dust ourselves off, and begin to look for openings, we might very well find purchase we thought, and that feels, nearly impossible.

[...]

I want to start here by saying I do not believe that the most diehard MAGA acolytes will suddenly realize they backed the wrong horse when the consequences of Trump’s action take form. That’s not how any of this works. They hold a religious dedication to him and are inundated constantly with enough of mis and disinformation and propaganda to override any cognitive dissonance. Economic troubles and even the eradication of programs that specifically affect them will be blamed on the “Deep State” or insidious conspiracy theories. That’s not what we’re talking about here. But Trump’s orders to pause federal funding, slash programs, and the general dysfunction and chaos leading to consequences (including his weekend spat with Colombia affecting prices) will change the paradigm with some. There are many individuals, from all walks of life, who are going to be negatively impacted. This includes the funding of studies, experimental drugs and treatments, any number of other downstream effects will touch people’s lives. Some people are going to die. And, when you add that to the upcoming trauma of seeing friends and neighbors and community members, including children, being rounded up by aggressive mobs of ICE officers, it will generate backlash.

For some, this will be stuff they read about on the news, but for so many people this is going to be lived experience that affects their daily lives. Federal employees are already feeling it and the people associated with their programs have had enough in the first week. Now, we’re getting into god knows how many ongoing programs that are going to be cut or decimated. This is going to exacerbate pressure in so many workplaces and communities, and the catharsis Trump is offering his dieheards - the pleasure of seeing “elites” and vulnerable communities inflicted with pain - will have no reward whatsoever for them. Instead, it will be real material conditions. Despite what Trump and the oligarchs behind him think, there are ripples from all of this. We’re likely to begin seeing labor strife, community uprisings, and a changing of the tide. The furious nature of it all, not to mention how dysfunctional and unprofessional Trump and his billionaires are, only makes mistakes more inevitable and for consequences to mount. The question now is how this will be answered. And authoritarians are quick to violence and suppression.

Jared Yates Sexton wrote a solid piece on how we fight MAGA authoritarianism.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Meow

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: He had spent an entire millennia in solitude, waiting for her to come back to him, bearing this curse that was a constant reminder of his ignorance, his mistake, and his guilt. He had forgotten how fate had always been cruel to him, punishing him for all he had done, and so be it, meeting her in the 21st century should have brought him joy- there was only one problem, his love for her may not have decreased a drop, but she may love Poofy more than she ever loved him.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: death of a major character, war, PTSD.

A/N: Here's a quick peak of what this series will comprise, I wanted it to be a one-shot, but turning it into a series would be easier for me since this semester has me sobbing. If you want to join the tag list, please feel free to comment below! @edenesth HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT THE PIC? HMMMM?

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Rating: mature

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

"So, you're either a hook-up who hasn't left yet, which is hella creepy dude, it's 10 am- a secret boyfriend I was never told about which proves I have been a horrible best friend or you're a freak who broke inside mind you I am a cop."

He froze mid-walk, eyes wide and swirling with panic. His instincts were telling him to bolt out the door, but the tug in his chest followed by his heart dropping to his stomach had him frozen in spot, years- no millennia; he had kept safe, he had kept it a secret and to think he would be discovered not by the one destined to be with him, but this mutt- apologies, he used to be a mutt, centuries ago, the same time he had found his mate, ridding him of the curse. What stood before him now was a human, a reborn version of the hyperactive, clingy, filthy-

"I believe you're the creep who is my innocent Y/N's dream man?"

"I can explain."

"Oh?" quirking his head to the side, his eyes scanned the other man, who was dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of his fresh shower hanging off the tips of his onyx locks and falling onto the carpet. Yunho’s hand was itching to reach his gun hooked to his belt, hidden with his jacket, he may have been a bit taller than the intruder, but the man looked well built, enough to put up a fight, so he may need to make this quick.

“I’m Poofy.”

“I- you’re what?”

“Poofy, the cat, Y/N’s cat, the one she saved.”

“I might need to call for backup.” He mumbled to himself, taking out his gun and aiming at the barely covered man.

His eyes widened at the statement, shaking his head as he raised his hands in the air, “Listen to me, I’m not lying, Yunho.”

His name caused him to pause, so the intruder knew his name, huh, “How long have you been stalking her?”

“I haven’t I- a millennia later and you’re still so annoying,” letting out a whine, the man stomped his foot against the carpet, the movement leading his towel to slip off, both men freezing as soon as the plush, wet material hit the ground, their eyes meeting for a split second before Yunho’s trailed down, pausing and taking in the sight.

“I don’t remember if she ever mentioned a big-

“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO HER, YOU DAMN MUTT.”

[zoobus]

Otome Isekai Roundup

With the new year, I feel the need to make some kind of year-in-review list. So even though I've largely stopped reading comics (the desire to read ebbs and flows every six month), here are the otoisekai that stuck out to me the most in 2024

Crimson Lady/Resetting Lady

What can I even say about the GOAT? As we crawl towards a conclusion, the despair only grows. Death is the only answer, death must be avoided at all costs.

The Villainess Who is No Better than an Extra Cross-dresses to Be a Love Interest

I never talked about this one, namely because I'm not sure how to describe it without focusing on its wokeness. But it is woke. It's bizarrely, strangely woke, as well as genuinely enjoyable, but I keep getting fixated on all the genre-unusual progressiveness, like

BELIEVABLE female crossdressing in a shojo manga

her older brother is fat, a good person, and nobody ever comments on his weight (this point is the most shocking to me honestly)

Older brother is loudly supportive of his gnc sister and male cousin

Unclear if MC is gay, transmasc, or just doing this out of survival, but it says something that becoming a love interest was her *first* response

Boy the MC bewitched in girl form as a child is thrown off by her handsome appearance as an adult, yet awkwardly asks if she wants help breaking her engagement with a man

I forgot, originally he was the stock "sexist love interest who dials it back for his one true love" type, but this one shatters the mold not by making her the one girl he isn't mean to, but instead having him step back from his feelings and step UP as a genuine, actual, fr ally and continuing their friendship. Insane upgrade.

And it all feels pretty organic! They'll hint at complicated feelings from the people around her without grandstanding or molding medieval-y types into 21st century values

Like I can't emphasize enough how weird it is to see a child drawn like this and they're not evil

Behind Her Highness's Smile

I never talked about this one for the opposite reasons of the above. Um. Extremely horny ethicsplay* thriller about a mentally-challenged princess forced to marry a duke (who, in turn, was forced to marry a mentally-challenged princess). What if you were the abused sexy sensual prisoner princess forcibly married to a smoldering tall dark-haired duke AND you had brain damage.

Let me say that I enjoy this story sincerely and that her issues are not played lightly, but it is absolutely going for eroticism. Like oh nooo, you're not mentally competent enough to consent 😉😉 the duke could do whatever he wants and you're too dumb and doll-like to do anything about it😉😉😉 also your maids roofied you😉did I mention your sick bastard brother-king made you like this? And that he takes immense pleasure in that fact?🤫

But I know what you're thinking. Because I was thinking it. For chapters and chapters. "Surely this is a ruse. They didn't actually write a mentally handicapped female lead, not when it's already so horny. This is just to add to the fucked up atmosphere that feeds into everything because there's no fucking way anyone would keep to this premise. Wow she's really committing to the bit lol, not giving an inch. If I were gullible, I would believe they're actually going to fuck. Wait. Was that guy supposed to represent the writer talking to the reader? Hey?"

Did they? Read to find out :)

*I've always hated describing stories as problematic (positive). Ethicsplay, like the story is fucked up. They know it's fucked up, YOU know it's fucked up, and that's why you're here reading it.

A Splendid Revenge Story of a Super-Dreadnought Cheat Villainess

I don't have a lot to say about this one other ​than it's a refreshing revenge-centric OI. It's not treading new ground, but it executes the genre's tropes well. The villains are exaggerated caricatures of hubris, brazen leeches who've forgotten whose blood they've been surviving on, each with their own distinctive brand of arrogance introduced at a measured pace to keep the true hero's OPness from getting boring, all with a unique stylistic flair.

Princess revenge stories are frequently derailed by dull romance or the desire to reinvent capitalism, so the fact that Super-Dreadnought commits itself to smiting Lunaria's enemies without straying from the path makes it a high recommend.

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord

I realized I don't have enough screenshots to prove my controversial opinion (that this is less puppy dog bf fantasy and more crypto-age reggressor/caretaker right up until they knew it would mess with the overall light and goofy tone), and I can't say those kinds of things without proof. so. I'll save that for another day.

Anyway. Plot: Priestess Diarin, who is so hot I have more screenshots of her than any of the men, has to tame an abused beast-like 6'8 shredded ex-child soldier into a noble. She's the only one who can change him, she's the only one he can be vulnerable with. Middling plot, heavy slapstick/reaction face-based humor, but everyone is sexy and there are mild to moderate sadist-on-the-art-team impies, so. Recommend.

On an unrelated note can tappytoons please stop picking up manwha with good art? Their translation choices make me unreasonably mad.

If they draw shoes like this, please let Lezhin handle it? I can't take the comma stutters and obvious tone neutering.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TWO: MAKING AMENDS

warnings: language, fatshaming, self deprecation,

word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22

A/N: chapter three finally!! enjoy :) also comment if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Ever since that day, you and Bucky quickly became practically inseparable. Always sitting next to each other in meetings, he’d always come to visit whenever he could, and you’d always be jetted off to missions together.

It only took an hour or two for you to open up, pour all the poison that had slowly been burning away your insides, and the both of you lightening your burdens to each other in the dead of night. The dreams leave you both quite lonely. 

You’re busy patching Steve up, just applying ointment to a bruise you’re both sure will disappear before he even leaves the infirmary. He comments on how happy you’ve seemed lately as you talk away about the plans you and Bucky have for the next weekend, discussing your idea to buy him some new clothes more suited to a man in the 21st century. And then Tony Stark walks in the room, wearing his classic thick, black sweater and looking worried as hell. 

“Nurse! We need to talk.” He looks directly at you, and you flinch at his raised tone. He clocks on immediately, softening his approach. You lead him into a neighbouring empty room.

“What’s this about Mr Stark?” You remain, ever polite. You clasp your hands in front of you, smiling expectantly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I know you’ve talked to FRIDAY about your spot at dinner…but I was just informed that you asked her to not have your meal sent to your room. Is everything okay? Do you need to speak to someone?” You’re well aware of what he thinks, what he’s insinuating. You’ve been here before, the last time Sharon made a mean comment about you was the last time you set foot in that damned dining room. 

You swallow the bitter memory, making way for the sweet words about to leave your mouth. “No, sir. Everything’s alright with me. I asked FRIDAY to not send my meals to my room, because…well, I was thinking of coming to dinner tonight. Bucky talked me into it, and I think I should stop holding onto things that happen so long ago now.” You smile, letting your affection for the super soldier known. 

He relaxes, but shoots you a confused look. “Metalbox? Really?” 

“Yeah. We’re kind of good friends now.” He nods. “Alright, let me know the second anything changes or if anything is said that makes you uncomfortable. Okay?”

You nod this time, assuring him. He walks you out and lets you return to the infirmary, where Bucky is waiting for you. Your smile brightens by a millions Watts, but Bucky never seems blinded. 

“Hey Buck!” You say, taking a standstill right in front of him. You haven’t really discussed how either of you stand on physical contact, but when he wraps you in a warm hug, you don’t fight it. You own arms end up around his middle, turning the embrace into something a lot more intimate, but too lost in each other to care. 

The nickname of a nickname has him completely melting into every soft curve of you and never wanting to leave, forever entranced by the lingering scent of your lotion and perfume, the perfectly concocted pheromones only for him. 

“Hey, doll. I missed you.” His tone is so soft, your heart can barely take it. What started off as a simple attraction has now fully snowballed into a crush of embarrassing proportions, and the fact that he even wants to be around you to this degree has you completely giddy. 

When his words are such sugar, when his touch lingers just half a millisecond longer than it should, you are able to delude yourself he feels the same. You know you’re wrong, you just haven’t been shown such attention since you stopped being naturally amazing at everything as a child. But you dream anyway, of blue seas and black and gold. 

“Missed you too. Did you have a busy day sparring?” He nods, keeping an arm around you as you both walk down the long corridors, arms welded like lovers to each other’s backs. 

“Yeah, I got to practise giving Steve an ass whooping today to show the trainees how to defeat someone when held at knifepoint.”

“Oh, you have to show me sometime,” you say excited, trying not to show how hot you’re starting to run at the idea of Bucky dismantling someone despite the weapons they may yield. It makes you feel safer, snuggling up to him all that tighter. 

And then the doors to your seemingly worse nightmares appear. Simple, made of black glass and sliding open when it recognises the two of you trying to get in. 

She’s really not going to eat all of that, is she? The cruel words ring in your head and you swallow hard. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you changed your mind. We can just go to that restaurant I was telling you about on Monday.”

How long will you let your fears consume you? You shake your head. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Buck. Really, but I want to. I have to try, at least. Plus, its not just her and me in there. There’s Steve, and Nat and Wanda’s just come back from her mission, and Thor’s visiting. And you’ll be next to me. Won’t you?” You look up at him bashfully, as if you expect him to say no.

You have no idea how much he wants to kiss you and that pout on your lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there, doll. Always.” You grin like you’re surprised, solemnly untangling yourself from his arms as you step inside. Not that you hate the physical contact, but the idea of partaking in such activities in the presence of other people makes you sweat. You’ve never been one to share details about your romantic life, expecting nothing but a dissection and a ridicule once your chest cavity opens. You know these groups of people may not be like that, but the strange pain still ascends up your chest. You feel Bucky’s presence behind you, though, warm hand just centimetres away from yours like a promise of quick reassurance. 

The room falls silent, and you notice how you and Bucky are the last two members to enter, and so theres only two open seats — one right next to Sharon and another directly in front of her. You swallow, not knowing which position is worse when Steve warmly beckons you over to sit next to him, the seat directly opposite Sharon. 

You smile and accept his offer, watching Bucky as he walks around the table to begrudgingly take a seat in between two people, blue eyes burning like he’d much rather swap with Steve. “Nurse! How nice of you to join us!” Tony beckons from the head of the table, and everyone cheers and welcomes you warmly, Steve patting your back gently. It almost drowns out the scoff. 

You stay mainly quiet, keeping to yourself. It’s your first day here, in this dining room, and you’ll take some time to get adjusted. Hopefully a certain someone will keep her mouth shut and you’ll come back tomorrow. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve whispers down at you in between courses. “Me too, actually. This isn’t too horrible.” You smile just as the servers set down a plate of your favourite dish — a completely vegan chicken Alfredo and garlic bread — right in front of you, hot and steaming. Your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly and you try your best to stay oblivious to it, not noticing how Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, at how cute you look when you’re flustered. 

He chuckles and you meet his eye, smiling warmly. You get through the meal without a single hitch, and it seems that someone’s chastised Sharon before you could enter the room. You’re eternally grateful to that person, whoever that is.

During the meal, you get to hear stories of the time when Steve was at “war” with Tony, of childhood incidents from the 1930s, and the way Bucky acts when he’s drunk as shit. Thor’s brought some Asgardian liquor with him, knowing even the finest wine in the Tower’s cellar wouldn’t even get him buzzed. 

One by one, people start bidding goodnight, until it’s just Thor, Bucky and you. Steve has to be up at 5 tomorrow, to prepare for a meeting, or so he says. 

“And then he calls me a son of a bitch!” Thor explains, loud enough for you to flinch. He and Bucky laugh in uproar, and the sound of it takes you away. You find yourself staring, at his tipped back head and his wide grin, so beautiful all you want to do is climb in his lap and kiss him senseless. You refrain, of course. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Buck. Should we go?” You use your thumb to point behind you, and he nods.

“Yes, I would go anywhere for you, doll. All you have to do is ask.” You roll your eyes, not knowing intoxication also makes him a terrible flirt.

You gently move to him when he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you tight to him, face buried in your soft stomach. “Mm, can we just stay like this for a while, please?” He flashes you his bright blue puppy dog eyes, and you can’t resist. Shoulders sag as you breathe out a laugh at him. “Just a minute, then we’ll get you back to your room. Okay?” He nods, pressing his gorgeous face against your middle once again, and you can’t help but smile. He’s adorable. You gently run your hands through his hair, completely oblivious to Thor’s hunkering form leaving his seat. "How is it that a woman as perfect as you exists even in the 21st century?" He drunkenly grumbles. "It's genetics, darling." You smile like you've been completely lovestruck, and it's inevitably gotten to your head. "No, doll, I'm being serious. You're so perfect, feels like I was made to complement you. So pretty…"

“Alright, time for bed. Come on.” You drag him up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy you find it hard to breathe and reluctantly pull away from his warmth. One arm around his back, you gently guide him to his room in the same fashion he’s brought you to the dining room. The entire time there, he rattles off every synonym for beautiful he can think of as you fight against a smile harder and harder. There is a drunken veracity to him in this moment, and you don’t have it in you to fight him in such a state. You haven’t had more than a glass yourself, leaving you perfectly capable of safely navigating the long corridor, planning to drop him off and safely retreat to your own room just beside his. But he pulls you in.

“Stay with me…please, doll. Need you.” His breath is hot against your ear, tone soft and needy. Like he’s two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you.

You yield. “Okay, Buck. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?” He nods, head lolling against his shoulders. On your way to the bed, you trip over one of his socks, his shoes long discarded at the entrance, slipping. He catches you without so much as a second thought or grunt. Reminding you of his strength. His hands on your waist turn you around, and you let out a yelp as your back meets the bed, his chest meeting yours and knocking the breath out of you.

Your hands grip the sheets while you’re trying your best to not look at him, his kind words reverberating around your head. His supposed infatuation, though deep down you know isn’t true. It can’t be. 

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting. 

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

He leans in closer and closer, and you both are aware of the current pace of your heart, slamming in your ears like you would upon a door. Your head tilts up as his moves down, hot lips just grazing along yours, igniting every bone in your body as your hands grab at his chest instead, and he lets out a breath. You swallow it, eyes closing, giving in to the desires you’ve kept locked in a bottle deep inside your chest, just under your diaphragm.

Then reality come hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“Bucky…stop.” You push a hand against his chest, surprised to feel his heart pounding just as fast as yours. You’re full expecting for push to come to shove, but to your almost disbelief, he retracts immediately. Completely off, and lying next to you, while you try to hold back tears.

You know the truth — he doesn’t really want you. He’s just drunk, and you’re the only female body around. Nothing more.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unable to look at him even when he’s on his side, eyes trained on you. “After everything I’ve told you about my…my past. All the bullying, and the trauma, and the pain. Why—Why?” Several shaky breaths escape you, trying to blink back the tears. 

His fingers brush your temples frantically, absorbing the salt as he talks over himself. “Wait…Wait no. I— Doll, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t wanna make you cry. No, no no, not what I meant, not what I—“ You turn to meet his eyes, grabbing his wrist in yours and unable to stop yourself from stroking the inside of it with your thumb. 

“Then what did you mean? I’ve told you, how people treat attraction to me like a joke. And then the second you have some alcohol in your system, you start acting the same way?”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m not joking when I call you beautiful. I think—I know you are, doll. Why else would I say it? You know I hate lying…” As you gaze upon his distraught expression, you realise the error of your ways, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this. So what’s the point of wasting your breath twice? For now, you accept it, lock it away for another day.

“Alright…Let’s just go to bed now, okay? I’m tired, baby.” The nickname slips out absentmindedly, and the way his mouth falls open lets you know that you didn’t overstep as his tongue traces his lips in the same way you wish to do so. 

“Yes! Let’s get my pretty baby some well deserved rest. Works too hard…” His eyes begin to close with his hand still fondly placed on your cheek, but you jerk him awake.

“No, Buck, not like this. Properly, let’s find you some comfy clothes and tuck you in. Come on.” You stand up, extending a hand to him. God, he looks so pretty from this angle, staring at you like you’re his sun and it’s a lazy picnic in the park. He entwines his fingers with yours, again bringing up that feeling of desperation in your system but you tamp it down. You gently hum the latest song stuck in your head as you get him ready for bed, slowly taking off his socks and handing him his comfiest pair of sleeping shorts, informing him of every step before you take it so you can give him the chance to tell you if you’re about to do something he doesn’t want.  What you don’t realise is that there is nothing you could do that he wouldn’t welcome. He knows you wouldn’t hurt him, only show him the gentle warmth he’s been deprived of for decades with your light fingertips and heavy gaze. You turn your back as he changes, giving him some privacy.

He doesn’t let you leave, scared you won’t come back to him. He’s never been like this, so desperate to keep you by him. You’ve only known each other a month, and you two often stay up together when he knocks after a nightmare, either diffusing the bomb in his head with mellow hands, or holding him tight as you both lose your worries to some old sitcom you introduced him to. In your heart, you can’t find yourself to leave, either. And so you use a spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom to get ready for bed, stealing one of his shirts he handed to you with the brightest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. When you throw it over your head, you relish in the remnants of his cologne and something else, something so innately Bucky, that all you want is to bury yourself in his scent intertwined with the magic fabric of his shirt, which turns out to be loose on you. 

You set your hair, marvelling at how big he is, that his shirt is loose on every part of your body. A secret part of you wonders if he’s done it on purpose, intending to give you his clothes and opting for this looser fit…You quickly dispel the notions, ditching your bra and formal outfit on the floor, rubbing your tired eyes.

Bucky lays on his side, facing you and taking you in as you walk out. He lets out a groan and you wonder if it’s related. “You look so pretty in my clothes…fuck. Come back to bed, beautiful.” He outstretches his arms, making grabbing motions at you with his hands like an adorable child. You chuckle at his neediness and brush off the compliment as you settle into bed next to him, suddenly shy of the space in his bed you’re taking up. It’s been ages since you slept in the same bed as someone else…but you try not to dwell on it.

Bucky flips around immediately, sliding a warm arm around your waist and pulling you closer, eyes already closed. He’s so hot, practically a furnace when he pulls you in, like he can’t stand to be apart from you. What has the alcohol done to him?

“Good night, doll.” He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His warmth is beautiful, and your glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see the absolutely wanting look plastered over your face, so deep it makes you physically ache inside your chest when you lift a hand to stroke through his hair, so soft like the sigh that escapes him. Like you soothe him, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Good night, Buck.” Sleeps comes quite easily.

NEXT PART

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Tippington Affair

Summary: Y/N and Dean are unaware of just how similar they are.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Angst. Pining. Some making out. Kissing. Fluff.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 5,314

A/N: In February I got a request from a lovely anon asking this:

hiii :)) idk of you're taking requests rn, but i was wondering if you could write something with dean x fem!reader where dean really loves her for a while but hasn't told her and plan on never telling cause he just thinks he's bad for her or that he's "poison", but he sees her getting close to some guy they're working with and starts to get like suuuper jealous, enough to make him forget he's not supposed to be with her. I absolutely love your writing and your stories, I'm pretty sure I've read them all haha :)) thanks!

It took me a while to get to this, but I hope you think it was worth it! Thank you so much for this request, Nonnie. And I hope everyone else who reads it enjoys it too. ❤️

Master List || Dean Winchester One Shots || Tag Lists

Dean shouldered his big green duffle bag, slamming Baby’s trunk and frowning at his phone.

-

-

Dean scowled at the name “Tippington”. Scott Tippington.

What the fuck kinda name is Tippington? Dean thought angrily. Sounds like he should be taking cigars and brandy in the library instead of out hunting with a flannel and a shotgun. 

Sam joined him back at the car, having just checked them in and got their room key from the front desk. He tossed it to Dean. 

“203.” He told him and they bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor of the Sleep Eazzz Motel. 

When they’d spotted the motel on the side of the highway and Dean mentioned stopping, Sam told him the name of the motel was too close to “Sleazzz Motel” and they should keep driving. But Dean had already been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight. Sam offered to take over but Dean said he needed to stretch out on a real bed. 

“Plus,” he’d pointed out, “you have a habit of really riding the brakes.”

So, they’d stopped for the night.

As they walked through the orange motel room door, they both gave a relieved sigh. The outside of the motel was hideous, but the room seemed decent. It actually smelled and looked clean, there was a decently modern TV, one from the 21st century anyway, and to Dean’s delight, both beds had magic fingers.

They each picked a bed and dropped their bags. Sam sat on the end of his bed and ran a hand down his face before turning to his brother.

“Hey, did you manage to get a hold of Y/N? Is she coming?”

Dean dug into his bag and started taking weapons out to clean them, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “N’ah, she’s werewolf hunting down in North Carolina.”

Sam nodded. “Ah. Too bad, we could use her.”

Dean shrugged. “We got this, it’ll be fine.”

Sam grunted his response and started unlacing his boots. Dean sat back on the bed and laid out a cloth to set the weapons on before starting in on his 1911. 

After a minute Sam kicked off his boots and pushed himself backwards so he was leaning against the pillows on the bed as he picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Dean was quiet until Sam settled on an old episode of The Simpsons and tossed the remote aside.

“Hey, do you know a guy named Scott Tippington? ‘Nother hunter?”

Sam scrunched his forehead thinking. “Out of Utah? Tall guy, blonde?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know him, that’s why I was asking you. What’s he like?”

Sam sat forward a bit to pull off his overly warm flannel. “Well, if it’s the guy I’m thinking of, I only worked with him once, a few years ago.” He darted a look towards Dean. “When you and I were, uh, apart. After Amy.”

It was awkward for a moment before Sam looked back at the TV and continued on. “Anyway, I don’t remember a ton about him, but we ended up on the same Rugaru case and we hunted it together. He was good, I think. If he was bad or stupid, I’d probably remember him more.” He looked at Dean again. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged. “Oh, just Y/N said she’s working with him again. This is like the third or fourth case in a row they’ve worked together, so I was just curious.”

Sam smiled knowingly. “Ah! I get it now.”

Dean scowled at his little brother and then went back to aggressively cleaning the barrel of his pistol. “There’s nothing to ‘get’.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow.“You’re worried Y/N’s getting a bit too close with this guy.”

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. She’s teamed up with him a couple times, and I just wanna make sure he’s not a tool that’s gonna get her killed.”

“Uh huh.” Sam said in tones of disbelief.

Dean shook his head. “Shut up.”

He didn’t bother arguing the point with Sam any further because he knew Sam would see through him - had been seeing through him for the last four years, since the day they’d first had a run in with the former FBI agent.

***

Dean had been immediately blown away by her. She was a power and a force all unto her own, and she was immediately suspicious of them. 

They were working the case of a shifter who was shifting into different parents, and snatching that parent’s kid. They were pretty sure the bastard was selling the kids to other monsters for obviously horrific reasons.

Y/N was only aware of the most recent kid, snatched ten hours earlier. She was on the case, knowing that a twenty-four hour clock was ticking. There were witnesses and CCTV camera footage of the boy’s father picking him up from school, so of course he was their prime suspect. 

But when Sam and Dean came into the local FBI field office and said they’d been instructed to interrogate that suspect, Y/N had just frowned at them and asked to see their badges again. She’d studied them for a worryingly long time before handing them back.

She squinted at them. “You look kind of familiar to me. Have we worked together?”

Both brothers assured her they’d never met and demanded again to speak with the suspect in custody. She’d reluctantly agreed and taken them into the room. But they got little new information out of the incredibly distraught father.

As they were leaving, Y/N caught Dean’s arm and he’d been amazed with how much that little touch had affected him and how badly it made him want to pull her closer, cover her delectable mouth with his and see what she tasted like.

But she’d merely asked him one more time if they’d ever worked together. When Dean denied it again, she shook her head and let him go.

But early the next morning, she’d been outside their motel room, pounding on the door. Dean’s bed was the closest and he stumbled out of it, half asleep, to open the door. He stood there in his black boxers and gray t-shirt and she seemed momentarily surprised, looking him up and down before she pushed past him into the room. 

“Hey!” He protested. He looked over at Sam’s bed, but it was already empty and made up. Probably out running. Dean thought with an internal eye roll as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on as Y/N spun around to confront him.

“I know why I know you.” When Dean said nothing, she planted her hands on her hips. 

“You're Dean Winchester. And that guy with you,” she pointed at Sam's bed, “is your brother Sam.” When Dean still stayed silent she moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Also, you’re dead.”

She began pacing back and forth in front of him. “After a horrifying and bloody murder spree across several states, you were both killed - ‘decapitated’ the report said. When I called the sheriff who wrote the report, I found out that both he and his daughter, who just happened to be the coroner who processed the bodies, were also missing and presumed dead.”

She turned back to look directly at Dean and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he found himself once again caught up in how beautiful she was, in the way her eyes flashed as she studied him. And once again he had the impulse to wrench her forward and crush her mouth under his…probably a bad idea, he thought.

Y/N eyeballed him, but he couldn't decipher her expression. Her voice was stern when she spoke. “I should be here to arrest the murderers who faked their own death.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

She stared at him for a minute before she shook her head. “No, because you and your brother aren’t the only weird thing going on with this case. After you left yesterday I dug deeper into the case and stumbled across six other cases, from local municipalities, of missing kids. The cases had been reported to the FBI for consultation, but they all seemed cut and dry, so the locals took care of it themselves.”

She inhaled deeply, frowning at Dean. “The disappearances of all six kids were reported as parental abductions. In every case, there was footage of the parent picking the kid up from school, but every accused parent vehemently denied taking them. Four out of the six suspects arrested, also had ex spouses who refused to believe their former partner had taken the child because they were in very friendly and functional co-parenting situations. Oh, and all six kids were never found, and no body was ever recovered.”

She shook her head. “Now there is a seventh kid missing and it’s exactly the same situation. If you add to that, two fake FBI agents who are actually mass murderers back from the dead, well I gotta think there’s something more going on here that I don’t understand.”

Sam walked through the door just then,  freezing when he saw Y/N standing in the middle of the motel room. 

“Uh…”

Dean waved him in. “Come on in, Sammy. Time to give the talk.”

So, they’d spilled the beans about who they were and the life they lived. She didn’t believe easily, but eventually she admitted that there had been a few other cases in her ten year career that had felt off, that left her with a bad taste in her mouth about what was really going on.

She’d insisted on helping them find the seven year old boy that was missing, and with her help they’d found the shifter and put a silver bullet in his heart in time to save the kid and return him to his real parents.

After that Y/N tried to go back to being an FBI Agent, but eventually she came to see the boys. 

“I can’t go back to pretending that everything is normal. Everytime we’re going after a suspect, I’m wondering whether they’re actually a monster in disguise, or if they’ve got a monster framing them.” She’d shrugged. “So, teach me to be a hunter. I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of career overlap, and hey, the FBI doesn’t pay great either.”

So they’d helped her out, but she was a very quick study and it hadn’t taken long for her to become a great hunter. They often worked cases together.

Or they had until a few months ago when Y/N had met up with Scott Tippington and started working all her cases with him.

Tippington. Dean thought again, dismissively. Definitely a douche.

***

***

“Cheers!” Y/N reached across the table and clinked glasses with Sam and then turned slightly to touch glasses with Dean who was sitting beside her. 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Cheers.” He said with a nod. 

They all took a big gulp of beer and then clunked their heavy glass mugs back down on the table. 

“So, how have you guys been?” Y/N asked, wiping her hand over mouth to ensure no beer clung to her upper lip. 

Dean grunted non-committedly and she looked to Sam for further explanation.

Sam chuckled. “That’s Dean’s way of saying taking down that nest of vamps we went after, ended up being a bit tougher than we thought it would be. Three of the vamps were friggin’ huge and they didn’t go down easy.”

“Shit!” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking Sam up and down. “They were bigger than you?” 

Dean answered. “Yeah, believe it or not. One of them picked Sam up like he was gonna bench press him and then chucked him clear across the room. Thankfully, I was too quick and agile for him to catch me.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, you were just like a ninja while the one with the beard had you in a headlock choking you out.”

Dean waved him away. “Got out of it didn’t I?”

Y/N chuckled and took another sip of her beer. Sam shifted his gaze from his brother to her and gave her one of his dimpled smiles. “How about you? How’d your last hunt go? Wolves right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, and then a wraith on the way back. They were both pretty quick and clean. We took them out without a problem.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Right you were working with uh…what was his name again?” He asked, as though the name hadn’t been plaguing his nightmares.

“Scott Tippington.”

Dean picked up his cardboard coaster and began shredding it. “Right. You’ve worked with him quite a bit lately. I guess he must be good.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder, smiling fondly at the memory of her most recent partner. “Yeah, he is. I like working with him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

Dean nodded, a little rapidly, she thought. “Oh that’s good. Important that your partner can tickle your funny bone just before a demon smashes your head into a wall.”

Y/N frowned. “He’s a good hunter too.”

“Huh.” Dean grunted. “That’s good.” He nodded. “I mean it’s obviously more important that he’s a good hunter so, you know, he's not gonna get you killed. But it’s great that you get along so well too. Important.” He finished with a mumble.

Y/N looked at him askance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The table was quiet for a minute until the waitress came by to drop off more pretzels and peanuts for the table.

Dean turned a bright smile her way and Y/N felt her stomach lurch as he moved into flirtation mode. She’d seen it many times before, over the last four years, and it never got easier. It was, in fact, the main reason she’d started hunting with Scott. She’d needed distance from Dean. She couldn’t keep watching him walk out the door with yet another new woman under his arm.

But once again, his charm was in full effect as he addressed their waitress. “Thanks sweetheart.” The waitress had long, dark hair, big boobs and a short skirt. She also had a very sweet smile that she flashed his way, making Y/N wanna scream or scratch her eyes out - maybe both.

The waitress popped a hip out as she stood beside their table. “No trouble, honey. Can I get you anything else? At all?” She asked, her warm brown eyes entirely focused on Dean.

Y/N thought the woman was being a little obvious and forward the way she rested her popped hip against their table and leaned forward so that Dean had a fabulous view of the cleavage revealed by her low cut, scoop neck t-shirt.

Dean didn’t even try to hide his ogling and Y/N gritted her teeth as he leaned his elbows on the table, looking up at the waitress. His green eyes glittered brightly with obviously dirty thoughts and promises. “Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing what time you get off.”

The waitress blushed prettily and bit her lip. “Um, I’m off at midnight.”

Dean gave an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Well, how ‘bout that, midnight is just when I was planning to head home. Maybe we could meet up.”

Y/N was clenching her teeth so hard she thought she might crack one as the waitress giggled and nodded. “Okay, maybe you can give me a ride home.”

Dean stared straight into the woman’s eyes and slowly licked his lips before speaking. “Oh, I can definitely give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“Jesus.” Y/N heard Sam mumble under his breath, but she didn’t spare him a glance. 

She was too intent on staring at the waitress who was practically salivating as she stared at Dean, before she giggled again and bounced away from their table. 

Dean watched her go with his head slightly tilted. 

When he swung his gaze back to her and Sam, he seemed slightly angry and she figured he expected them to bug him about his carousing while they were all just sitting at the table.

She wanted to make sure he knew she didn’t care, so she laughed. “Jesus Dean, why didn’t you just mount her right here on the fucking table.”

Oops, she thought, that sounded a bit more angry than teasing. 

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “What? I wanted a date, I got a date.”

Y/N snorted. “A date? A date implies dinner and a movie, I doubt very much you’ll bother with either. You don’t even know the woman’s name.”

Dean scowled at her. “It’s Cindy.” Y/N raised an eyebrow and he shrugged again. “She had a name tag, and I notice things.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, especially when they're pinned to a pair of enormous tits.”

Dean wore half a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He drained his beer in one swallow and stood up. “I’m gonna go ask Cindy for another one.”

He sauntered away and Y/N took her hands off the table and shoved them into her lap so Sam couldn’t see her shaking.

She raised her eyes to his and plastered on what she hoped looked like a real smile. “So, Sam, how is YOUR love life going?”

Sam chuckled. “Non-existent and boring.” He took a sip of beer. “How about you?”

“Non-existent and boring.” Y/N said with a small nod.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So…” Sam cocked his head. “You don’t have anything going on with this uh…Tippington guy you’ve been working with?”

“What? Ew! No.”

Sam frowned in apparent confusion. “Ew? Why ew?”

Y/N shook her head, her face still scrunched. “Because he’s the same age as my Dad!”

Surprise registered on Sam's face followed quickly by confusion. “Scott Tippington? Out of Utah?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, he's from Virginia, or…no West Virginia.”

“Oh.”

Y/N shook her head and then grinned at the idea of dating the grumpy old hunter. “I mean he's pretty good-looking for a 68 year old hunter. But…I think we're just gonna be friends.”

Sam smiled, chagrined. “That's probably a good plan.”

Dean sauntered back towards them and Y/N felt her stomach muscles tighten at his long-limbed, bow legged stride. Dean moved in a way that always made her take notice. When he was hunting, his movements were crisp and efficient, no wasted motions. He was precise and deadly. 

When he wasn’t hunting though, when he was relaxed, he moved his body through the world with a kind of ease, loose and almost carefree. He reclined in chairs, leaned in doorways, and put his feet up on tables. He stretched and relaxed his tall frame into comfortable positions that always made Y/N wanna climb up into his lap and cuddle.

He plunked himself back down beside her with a new mug of beer. Y/N tried to make her grimace look like a grin.

“So, you got your evening all planned out?”

Dean nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, we’re outta here in about fifteen minutes.” He looked at Sam and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Y/N let some of her frustration show. “So, you’re really gonna ditch us after like a half hour. I thought we were supposed to be catching up.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as she looked at his profile. “I figured we were all done catching up. Your wolf hunt went great cause you had your amazing new partner and our vamp hunt went kinda shitty cause we could have used an extra pair of hands.”

Y/N scowled at him. “Seriously? Are you pissed at me for hunting with Scott? I wasn’t aware we’d signed exclusive contracts.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “N’ah, we’re definitely not exclusive. You are under no obligation to us whatsoever. So, you’re good.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Y/N said and Dean turned to look at her. “You’re seriously running off to spend the night with wonder tits over there because you’re pouting?”

“Wow.” Dean said with a head shake. “Whatever happened to the sisterhood? That was pretty rude.”

Y/N scowled at him. “You know, you’re right. I should do my part for the sisterhood by going over to that nice girl and warning her to find another ‘ride’.” She said, using air quotes. “Cause God knows she’s gonna come to regret it when she turns into just another notch on your belt.”

There was no hiding her annoyance now and she didn’t bother.

Dean dropped his jovial pretext too and turned to face her better. “Why the hell are you being so preachy and judgemental? Since when do you give a shit who I fuck?”

“Dean-” Sam started to speak but Y/N spoke over him.

“I don’t.” she denied vehemently. “But I mean, Jesus. Do you ever think with anything other than the dick in your pants? I mean seriously, it’s gross.”

“Y/N-” Sam tried again but Dean leapt to his feet, banging the table and sloshing their beer across the wooden top.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sam mumbled as he jumped up too, trying to avoid the beer streaming towards him.

Dean’s face was furious as he stared down at her. “Well I don’t wanna gross you out, so I guess I’ll just go sit at the bar till I’m ready to go.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, guilt plagued her when she saw the hurt in Dean’s mossy green eyes as she slid out of the bench seat to stand just in front of him.

“Don’t bother. I’m gonna take off, got a lot of driving between here and my next hunt.” She stared up at Dean, hoping against hope that he might tell her that they should both stay.

But he just smiled a tight smile. “Yeah, say hi to Tippington for us.”

Y/N gave a terse nod. “Yeah, whatever.” She glanced at Sam. “Take care, Sam. Hope to see you soon.”

She didn’t bother addressing Dean again, just turning away and walking out the door, wishing she could leave behind her feelings for him just as easily.

***

Dean grabbed a rag from the bar and wiped up the spilled beer before sliding back into the seat across from his brother who was frowning at him.

“Dean, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

Dean glared back. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Why don’t you chase Y/N down and ask what the fuck’s gotten into her lately. She goes months without seeing me, us, I mean, and then storms away just because I had the audacity to make a date for later.”

Sam let out a frustrated growl. “You really think she was just mad you made a date, which, by the way, is a very loose translation for what actually happened with the waitress.”

“No, she was obviously mad and took off because she thinks I’m gross, cause she disapproves of my lifestyle, I guess.” He said, trying not to let the hurt bubble up. 

What the fuck do I care what she thinks of my choices? He thought angrily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but Cindy showed up at the end of their table.

“My boss let me off a bit early.” She smiled bashfully and nodded towards the door, clearly anxious to be underway. “Wanna go?”

Dean smiled at her and stood up, grabbing her hand. “Hell yeah, let’s go.”

***

***

There was a pounding on Y/N’s motel door that would have woken her up if she’d actually been asleep. But she’d just been restlessly tossing and turning, feeling guilty about Dean, but hurt over Dean too. The fact that he hadn’t texted back, clearly meant he was still on his “date”.

The long and short of it was she was in a rotten mood and the pounding on her door at two in the morning wasn’t helping. 

Stupid drunken idiots next door.

When they wouldn’t take the hint and go away, Y/N threw off the covers and stomped to the door, throwing it open, ready to tell them to fuck off. But it wasn’t her neighbors on the other side.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, her surprise turning into a frown. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your date?”

“I got your text.” Dean answered, brusquely.

He was staring at her, raking his eyes up and down her form standing in the doorway. Two spots of pink rose in Y/N’s cheeks as she realized she was just wearing a ratty old t-shirt and panties. She tugged self-consciously at the front hem of the shirt trying to ensure she was covered. 

She opened her mouth to ask again what Dean was doing, but before she could get a word out, he’d pushed her backwards into the room with his hands at her waist. In one quick motion he kicked the door shut and spun her so he could slam her up against the wood-paneled wall.

She gasped, her eyes wide and her heart slamming against her ribs. Before she could get a word out, he was crashing his lips onto hers and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like smooth whiskey and she was quickly drunk on him, her head reeling as his hands moved from her waist to grasp her cheeks and hold her steady.

His mouth ravaged her, pulling shocked and hungry whimpers from her throat. When he finally pulled his mouth away from hers, he simply trailed his silken lips down the length of her throat, while his rough hands strayed down her body to slip under the hem of her shirt and up her ribcage. His hands rested there, and he lifted his thumbs to brush tantalizingly against her rock hard nipples.

Y/N threw her head back, cracking it against the cheap wood paneling and knocking some sense into herself along with the slight pain. 

She shook her head and pushed against his forearms. “Dean! What the hell? What are you doing?”

He pulled his head up, licking his lips and panting heavily. His hands stilled, but they stayed warm against her ribs.

She tried to make sense of what was going on, but his tantalizing lips were still hovering above her and it was everything she could do to not simply ignore her sense of reason and latch on to them again. 

Instead she shook her head again and frowned. “Dean, what's going on? You were supposed to be on a date, remember?” She tried not to let too much vitriol into her voice, but felt like she’d failed. 

Dean’s jaw ticked. “I just drove her straight home.” He paused, still breathing rough. “I don’t want her.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again and he bit his bottom lip. “All I want is you.”

Y/N shook her head, willing herself to wake up and live with the disappointment of this all being a dream. “Dean,” she whispered, “what are you saying? Where is this coming from?”

Dean’s gaze turned sad before he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “Don’t date him.”

Y/N frowned in confusion. “Don’t date who?”

Dean shoved away from her and ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing. “I know I have no right to ask you, I have no right to you, no right to love you, I know I’m poison, I know I’m an asshole for trying to make you connected to me, I know I’ll never deserve you.”

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “I know Tippington is probably a much better option, but…” He strode three paces back to her and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. “But he can’t possibly love you more, want you more. I know that too.”

All Y/N could do was blink at him and then suddenly his words penetrated her brain and tears flooded her eyes and she begged her mind to just let her keep sleeping, keep living in the dream. 

Dean’s face crumpled and he looked stricken. He pulled her against his chest and she buried her face there. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It doesn't matter. Ignore me. It’s okay, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to say anything back. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.”

His voice sounded choked and he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. I’m an asshole, just ignore me, okay?” He repeated, and took a shuddery breath. “Date who you want, of course. Don’t cry.” 

Y/N pulled back from the softness of his flannel beneath her cheek, raising an eyebrow as she shook her head. “And what if I wanna date you? Does that declaration of love come with dinner and a movie?”

It was Dean’s turn to stare blankly at her. She reached up and dashed away her tears before wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his lips back to hers. Y/N kissed him for a solid thirty seconds before his brain seemed to kick into gear and understand what she was saying. When he did though, he growled and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her ribs and pressing her close. She reveled in the long, hard feel of him pressed up against her, the way she’d dreamed of him for so many years.

When they were both desperate for oxygen they finally broke the kiss and panted harshly as they looked into each other’s eyes, both of them thrilled when they read the real, solid proof of love in the other’s gaze.

Dean’s beautiful face split into an equally beautiful smile. “So, are you really picking me?”

Y/N smiled back warmly and let her hands rest against his scruffy cheeks. “Dean, I love you, and I choose you completely, over everyone, anyone. But…” She grinned at him mischievously. “Scott Tippington is sixty-eight years old and has never been anything more than a good hunting partner. Just so we’re clear.”

Dean frowned. “But Sam said -” He cut himself short before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “So, I was jealous of nothing.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Were you jealous? Really? Like me with the waitress…Cindy.” She gave a little eye roll.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

Y/N punched him lightly in the bicep. “Speak for yourself. I wasn’t a dumbass, I was a tragic pining heroine. After all, you gave me no hints you felt this way; how could I have possibly known?”

“Are you serious?” Dean asked incredulously. “I did everything but climb into your lap and beg.”

Y/N laughed and then felt her body warm as she laid her hands on his broad chest. “I’d be onboard for that.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he lowered his head and captured her lips in a long, languid, sensual kiss, just dipping his tongue in to taste her and sipping at her lips.

When he pulled out of the kiss to nuzzle the shell of her ear and then suck her earlobe between his plump lips, Y/N gasped and clutched his shirt in her hands.

“Please.” She whimpered.

Dean gave a soft, slightly wicked chuckle against her neck as he skimmed down her skin. “That was supposed to be my line, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

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@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@rizlowwritessortof

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

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@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

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@nancymcl

@hobby27

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

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[xtra7s]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N gets in a bit of trouble and Renee saves the day. Renee sees a bit into Y/Ns life beyond the act.

content: big warning for emotional abuse, manipulation, shit like that, drinking

word count: 2.9k+

masterlist | previous part

Renee's phone buzzed insistently, shattering the afternoon calm of her corner of the room. It was Adam, her manager, requesting an urgent meeting in his office. Curiosity gnawed at her as she navigated to the office, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Inside, she found Adam pacing, an uncharacteristic crease etched between his brows. Beside him, Y/N sat quietly, her usual vibrant energy subdued. Y/N's manager, Connie, stood ramrod straight, radiating tension.

"Renee, thanks for coming," Adam started, his voice strained. "This concerns Y/N. We want you guys to finish writing, but..." He hesitated, glancing at Connie for confirmation.

"There's been a…development," Connie interjected, her voice clipped. "An unexpected turn of events that could potentially cast a negative light on you and Y/N if not handled delicately."

Confusion washed over Renee. Y/N is known for her diva posts and witty replies but rarely courted controversy. "What happened?"

Connie cleared her throat. "Well did you know Y/N went out last night?"

A memory clicked in Renee's mind. She'd seen a photo Y/N posted, posing with a few other people outside of a club, holding a goofy grin on her face. "Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Well," Connie continued, a hint of exasperation in her voice, "turns out, Y/N here heard a guy talking about her friends, being –" she paused, her gaze flitting to Y/N, "Not very nice, and Y/N took it upon herself to shut him up."

Renee's brow furrowed. Y/N was passionate, that much was true but reckless? Unlikely.

As if reading her mind, Y/N spoke up, her voice surprisingly calm. "He was being an asshole running his mouth, I didn't do shit wrong."

Renee nodded in understanding. While Y/N was 'mainly' lighthearted, sometimes she gets intense. Renee would probably do the same thing.

Connie sighed. "Look, we appreciate your protectiveness, Y/N, but the backlash is getting intense. People are misinterpreting your intention, accusing you of just wanting to start a fight."

"So, what's the plan?" Renee asked, sensing the unspoken part of the conversation.

Adam leaned forward, his expression apologetic. "We need to do some damage control. Y/N will be taking a temporary break from social media for a few weeks. We'll have Y/N issue a statement clarifying her stance on it, and why it happened."

"But…" Y/N started, a flicker of protest in her eyes.

"It's for the best, Y/N," Connie interjected firmly. "This way, the heat dies down, and you can return with a clean slate."

Renee glanced between them, feeling the weight of the situation. While she understood the need for caution, she also knew Y/N thrived on engagement and connection. A forced hiatus might take a toll on her spirit.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind. "What if, instead of silence, we used this as an opportunity?"

The room fell silent, all eyes fixated on her.

"Y/N could still use her platform, but with a different focus," Renee explained. "Instead of social media, she could create educational content – blog posts, videos, you said he was being an asshole right? what was it about?"

Y/N shrugs, slumping in her chair. "He was being fucking racist, homophobic, whatever the fuck. I'm not just gonna sit there and let my friends feel bad about that shit, it was supposed to be a fun night."

Renee nods, leaning in on the table. "Exactly so post about that shit. Captions being about your experience, shitty people, talk about the fact that its the 21st fucking century and people like that shouldn't fucking exist anymore"

Adam and Connie exchanged surprised glances. The idea was unconventional, but it held merit. Y/N's passion and reach, coupled with her genuine concern, could create a positive impact far outweighing the initial controversy.

"It's…different," Connie admitted, her voice softening. "But it could work."

Y/N's eyes lit up, a spark of her usual fire returning. "I love it! It's a way to turn this around, and make a difference while still using my voice."

A wave of relief washed over Renee. With Adam's hesitant approval and Connie's cautious optimism, the plan was set. Y/N wouldn't be silenced; she would be redirected, her voice amplified for a different cause.

The meeting came to a close, and Renee took a leap of faith. "Hey, Y/N," she began, "how about we continue working on the song over dinner? Maybe grab a drink together?"

Y/N, surprised by the proposal, hesitated for a moment before responding, "I've got plans tonight with friends, but you can tag along if you want."

Renee, intrigued by the unexpected invitation, agreed. 

Later that night, she found herself standing before Y/N, who looked radiant in a tight dress that shimmered like moonlight. Renee, true to her style, wore comfortable yet stylish pants and a top that showcased her confidence.

"Ready to get absolutely hammered?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Renee chuckled. "Always."

Renee couldn't help but be captivated by Y/N's presence. Her outfit was a perfect blend of chic and edgy, catching the play of lights in the club. The way Y/N carried herself spoke volumes – a mix of poise and a subtle hint of mischief. The club's atmosphere seemed to intensify with every step Y/N took.

Renee's eyes lingered on the way Y/N moved, effortlessly navigating through the crowd. The soft glow of the club lights accentuated the highlights in Y/N's hair, and the music seemed to harmonize with her every move. There was a magnetic quality to Y/N's presence that demanded attention, and Renee found herself unable to look away.

The Beat was alive with energy. Music vibrated through the air, pulsing with a rhythm that invited movement. Y/N led the way, greeting friends with warm hugs and introducing Renee with genuine enthusiasm.

The pulsating beat of the music echoed through the crowded club as Y/N and Renee navigated the lively atmosphere. Tonight was different – a blend of work and leisure as Y/N had invited Renee to join her and her friends. Among those friends was Y/N's boyfriend, someone Renee had heard about but never met.

As they approached the group, Y/N's smile widened. "Renee, meet Jake," she said, gesturing towards a man with a polite smile and slightly awkward demeanor.

"Hey, nice to finally meet you," Renee greeted, extending her hand. Jake shook it, his eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Renee couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Jake. He seemed distant, his eyes often wandering, and his responses to Y/N's affection were lukewarm at best. As the trio conversed and shared laughter, Renee observed the couple, sensing an underlying tension.

At one point, Y/N excused herself to grab drinks, leaving Renee alone with Jake. An awkward silence hung in the air until Renee decided to break it.

"So, how long have you and Y/N been together?" she asked, trying to initiate a casual conversation.

Jake hesitated, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. "A few months, I think." he replied shortly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Renee's instincts heightened, and she couldn't ignore the unease settling in the pit of her stomach. Y/N returned, handing them their drinks, but the atmosphere remained strained.

As the night progressed, Renee couldn't shake the feeling that Jake was hiding something. His behavior became more erratic, and he seemed increasingly uncomfortable in Renee's presence. Observing this, Renee grew concerned for her friend, unsure whether to address the issue or wait for Y/N to bring it up herself.

Despite initial nerves, Renee quickly found herself swept up in the welcoming atmosphere. Y/N's friends were diverse and accepting, and their energy was contagious. Soon, laughter and conversation flowed freely, forging new connections between them.

The club's vibrant lights danced over the energetic crowd, and the music reverberated through the air as Y/N, Renee, and their friends enjoyed the night. However, things took an unexpected turn when Y/N's boyfriend, Jake, abruptly pulled her away from the group, a few tables down.

Renee couldn't help but notice the sudden change in Jake's demeanor. His face wore an expression of hostility, and as Renee discreetly observed from a distance, she sensed tension building between the couple.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Renee discreetly made her way closer to the commotion, keeping a safe distance but close enough to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Why do you always have to hang out with her?" Jake's voice carried a harsh edge, his frustration palpable.

Y/N, clearly caught off guard, tried to maintain composure. "Renee? She's just a friend. What's the problem?"

Jake's eyes flashed with anger, and he gestured toward the friend group. "I can't stand being around her. It feels like a threat. Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?"

Y/N, bewildered and defensive, responded, "Jake, she's just a colleague. We're working on a project together. It's not personal."

Renee, hidden in the shadows, felt a mix of concern and disbelief. She hadn't anticipated the depth of Jake's unease, and the scene unfolding before her raised alarm bells.

As Jake's voice grew louder, Renee debated whether to intervene or give Y/N some space. Before she could decide, Y/N's eyes met hers, a mixture of embarrassment and helplessness written across her face.

Renee chose to step in, approaching them calmly. "Everything okay here?" she asked, injecting a hint of hostility into her voice.

Jake shot her a venomous look, his anger directed toward Renee. "Mind your own business, Rapp. We're fine here."

Y/N, caught in the crossfire, attempted to mediate. "Guys, let's calm down. Renee, it's fine. We'll talk later."

As Renee reluctantly retreated, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that Y/N's relationship had taken an unexpected and troubling turn. The strained atmosphere lingered in the air, leaving Renee grappling with the realization that the music of the night had unexpectedly hit a dissonant note.

Trying to shake off the uncomfortable encounter with Jake, Y/N made her way to the bar, seeking solace in the rhythmic beats and the clinking of glasses. The dimly lit ambiance offered a momentary escape as she took a few sips, trying to drown the unease that lingered from the heated conversation.

Determined to salvage the night, Y/N joined her friends on the dance floor. The pulsating music enveloped them, creating a temporary sanctuary where worries could be momentarily forgotten. However, the tension from earlier still loomed in the back of Y/N's mind.

After a few energetic dance routines, Y/N decided to face the lingering issue. She approached Renee, who was now chatting with another friend and pulled her aside, away from the pulsating beats.

"Hey, Renee," Y/N began, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I just wanted to let you know I'm heading out with Jake. It's been a weird night, but I hope you enjoy the rest of it."

Renee, sensing the underlying tension, nodded and offered a supportive smile. "Sure thing, Y/N. Be safe, we'll catch up soon."

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd with Jake, Renee couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. The club's lively atmosphere continued around her, but a sense of unease lingered. Renee wished Y/N well silently, hoping that whatever turmoil existed in Y/N's relationship would find resolution.

With a sigh, Renee turned back to the dance floor, determined to immerse herself in the music and the joy of the night. Yet, in the midst of the celebration, a lingering concern for her friend colored the remainder of the evening. The dance floor pulsed with energy, but Renee couldn't shake the feeling that the night had taken an unexpected turn, leaving a discordant note in the air.

The night stretched into the early hours as Y/N and Jake returned to her house, the once vibrant energy of the club replaced by an unsettling tension. As they stepped through the door, the atmosphere shifted, and Jake's demeanor darkened.

Without warning, Jake started a fight, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass. He criticized Y/N for spending time with Renee, accusing her of purposely making him uncomfortable. Y/N, taken aback by the sudden escalation, attempted to defuse the situation.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Y/N pleaded, her voice quivering with confusion. "Renee is just a friend, and tonight was supposed to be fun."

Jake's response was cold and manipulative. "You're always so sensitive. Can't you handle a little criticism? Maybe if you weren't so emotional, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

As the argument intensified, Y/N's attempts to reason with Jake only seemed to fuel his anger. He twisted the situation, placing the blame squarely on Y/N's shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the weight of the conversation.

"You're the one overreacting, Y/N. This is all in your head," Jake sneered, dismissively waving off her tears. "Stop being so sensitive, we wouldn't have these problems."

Y/N, overwhelmed and emotionally drained, couldn't comprehend the sudden turn of events. She felt trapped in a web of manipulation, her attempts to communicate met with hostility and blame-shifting. The tears fell freely now, a mix of frustration and heartache.

As the night wore on, the toxicity of the situation lingered in the air. Y/N's home, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battleground of emotions. Jake's manipulative tactics had left scars on the night, and Y/N found herself questioning the foundation of her relationship.

In the quiet aftermath, Y/N was left to grapple with the emotional aftermath of the night, hoping for clarity and resolution in the days to come. The echoes of Jake's harsh words lingered, a painful reminder that sometimes the deepest wounds come not from external forces but from those we hold closest.

In the hushed aftermath of the argument, Jake's anger continued to cast a shadow over the room. Y/N, emotionally drained and vulnerable, found herself on the receiving end of a twisted attempt at reconciliation.

With a feigned sense of remorse, Jake approached Y/N and gently touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to ruin our night," he said, his voice laced with insincerity.

Y/N, still raw from the earlier confrontation, hesitated but yearned for a semblance of normalcy. As Jake leaned in, he pressed a kiss against her forehead, attempting to use physical intimacy to mend the emotional wounds he had inflicted.

"Let's just go to bed, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow," Jake suggested his words designed to manipulate Y/N into submission.

Caught in the confusing web of emotions, Y/N reluctantly agreed. The facade of normalcy seemed appealing, and the exhaustion from the night's events weighed heavily on her. As they lay in bed, a palpable tension lingered in the air, overshadowing any sense of true reconciliation.

Jake's actions, though masked in the guise of apology, left Y/N grappling with the unsettling feeling that something fundamental in their relationship had shifted. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a silent battleground where emotions were suppressed and genuine connection eluded them.

As she changed into her pajamas, Y/N's phone buzzed on the nightstand. With a curious glance, she saw a message from Renee.

Renee: Hey, you okay?"

Renee's message felt like a lifeline in the midst of the emotional storm. Gratitude washed over Y/N as she replied,

Y/N: Hey, thank you for checking in. I'm fine."

In the quiet darkness, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging doubt that this night would leave an indelible mark on her perception of Jake and their relationship. As sleep claimed the world around them, Y/N lay in the stillness, contemplating the complexities of love and the blurred lines between sincerity and manipulation.

As Y/N lay in bed beside Jake, her mind refused to be silent. The events of the evening replayed like a relentless loop, casting shadows over her thoughts. As she stared into the darkness, her mind involuntarily shifted towards Renee.

The contrast between Jake's manipulative behavior and Renee's genuine concern became starkly apparent. Y/N couldn't help but imagine how different it would be if Renee were in Jake's place – a realization that weighed on her heart.

Renee, with her kindness, understanding, and the support she offered earlier, seemed like a beacon of comfort in comparison to the storm that had engulfed her night with Jake. Y/N began to entertain the idea of how Renee, with her genuine nature, would be a far better partner, someone who valued communication and mutual respect.

In the quiet of her thoughts, Y/N couldn't help but imagine a relationship where trust was the foundation and where vulnerability wasn't met with manipulation. The idea of being with someone who cared for her well-being, as Renee had demonstrated, felt like a balm to the wounds inflicted by the tumultuous night.

As the night lingered on, Y/N found herself caught between the reality of her current situation and the fantasy of what a healthier, more genuine relationship could be. In the gentle embrace of these thoughts, sleep slowly claimed her, carrying with it a dream of a connection that transcended the toxic dynamics that had tainted her evening.

[chelseaknoo]

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 23

The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the faint sweetness of hot cocoa from nearby stands. You and the family bundled up in your warmest coats, Jackie snugly wrapped in his tiny puffer jacket and a knitted hat that made him look like a tiny elf. His chubby cheeks were rosy from the cold, and he babbled happily as you adjusted him in his stroller.

“Why are we doing this again?” Marshall grumbled, shoving his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

“Because it’s festive,” you replied, shooting him a playful glare. “And because the kids need something to do other than argue over TikTok trends.”

“We don’t argue over TikTok!” Hailie shot back, clearly offended.

“Yes, you do,” Stevie said with a smirk.

“No, we don’t!” Alaina added, quickly taking Hailie’s side.

“See?” you said, gesturing at them. “Exhibit A.”

Marshall snorted, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s get this over with before my toes freeze off.”

---

The town square was packed with families and couples, all gathered around the giant tree that stood in the center. It was wrapped in strings of lights that hadn’t been turned on yet, and a stage nearby hosted a live band playing cheerful holiday tunes. Vendors were selling roasted chestnuts, candy canes, and steaming cups of cider.

“Oh, I’m getting one of those,” Stevie said, pointing to a stand selling giant pretzels.

“Me too,” Alaina chimed in.

“Guys, we’re here for the tree, not the snacks,” you reminded them.

“But snacks are part of the experience,” Hailie said, grinning as she handed you Jackie’s diaper bag. “Hold this while I go get one too.”

You sighed as the three of them dashed off toward the stand, leaving you and Marshall alone for a moment.

“Typical,” Marshall muttered.

“You’re not any better,” you teased. “I saw you eyeing that hot dog cart.”

He shrugged. “I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

---

The kids eventually returned, loaded up with pretzels and cups of hot cocoa. Jackie reached out from his stroller, clearly interested in what they were holding.

“Can I give him a piece?” Hailie asked, holding up a small chunk of pretzel.

“Only if it’s tiny,” you said, watching as she broke off the smallest piece imaginable and handed it to him. Jackie squealed with delight, chewing it with his two little teeth.

“Dude’s living his best life,” Marshall said, watching Jackie with a rare soft smile.

The band announced that the tree lighting would happen in five minutes, and everyone started crowding closer to get a better view. Marshall groaned as a group of teenagers shoved past him, nearly spilling their hot chocolates.

“Do people not have manners anymore?” he grumbled.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” you replied, laughing.

---

As the countdown began, the energy in the square was electric. Jackie clapped his tiny hands, mimicking the cheers around him, while the kids chanted along with the crowd.

“Three… two… one!”

The tree lit up in a dazzling display of multicolored lights, and everyone erupted into applause. Jackie’s eyes widened, and he let out a loud giggle, pointing at the tree with both hands.

“Look at him,” Marshall said, leaning down to ruffle Jackie’s hat. “Kid’s loving it.”

“You’re loving it too,” you teased.

He gave you a half-smile. “Maybe a little.”

---

The family took a walk around the square after the lighting, stopping to admire the decorations and the ice sculpture of Santa Claus. The kids were laughing and chatting, and even Marshall seemed to be enjoying himself, despite his earlier grumbling.

At one point, Jackie got fussy, so you picked him up from the stroller and cradled him in your arms. He immediately calmed down, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Told you I’m the favorite,” you said smugly to Marshall.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though he couldn’t hide the affectionate look on his face.

“Alright,” Hailie said, coming up beside you. “Can we take a family selfie in front of the tree before we go?”

“Do we have to?” Marshall asked, already dreading it.

“Yes!” the kids said in unison.

“Fine,” he relented, pulling out his phone. “But if my face ends up on some weird Christmas meme, I’m blaming all of you.”

As everyone huddled together in front of the dazzling Christmas tree, Marshall held his phone out, trying to angle it for the perfect selfie.

“Everyone smile,” he said, his voice laced with mock irritation. “And no bunny ears, Stevie. I’m serious.”

Stevie grinned mischievously but kept her hands to herself. Hailie leaned in close to Jackie, who was perched on your hip, babbling away as if he were trying to direct the photo. Alaina was on your other side, holding a steaming cup of hot cocoa.

“Alright, ready?” Marshall asked. “Three, two—"

Before he hit the shutter, Marshall turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. Without warning, he leaned in and stole a kiss, his lips pressing against yours softly but confidently.

“Marshall!” you laughed, pulling back slightly as the kids erupted into groans and laughter.

“Dad!” Hailie exclaimed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “We’re taking a picture, not a rom-com scene.”

“Couldn’t help myself,” Marshall said with a smirk, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jackie squealed, smacking his tiny hands together, clearly delighted by the sudden burst of affection.

“Great, now Jackie’s rooting for him,” Stevie teased.

“Okay, okay,” Alaina said, shaking her head but smiling. “Can we actually take the picture now?”

“Fine, but I make no promises,” Marshall quipped, still grinning as he adjusted the phone again.

“Marshall, behave,” you said, giving him a playful nudge.

“I’m always behaving,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “You’re the one distracting me.”

The family finally managed to get the picture, though there were still a few blurry outtakes from the chaos. In the end, it didn’t matter; the laughter and warmth captured in the photo were worth every bit of trouble.