#what are these tags idk but I’m using them just in case

[sudokufriend]

not putting this in the tags only because character limits make me soo sadsies but yeah idk maybe you guys don’t know anyone whose entire culture subscribes to a ‘family is the rock of your life and your father and grandfather etc etc are essentially venerated and never disrespect your elders/authority figures no matter how wrong they are.’ because you don’t have non white friends. and it’s actually really refreshing to hear someone push back against the idealistic idea that there could be a system in which the family unit is preserved that does not have these problems.

hella anecdotes beneath the cut

i’m 20. my nigerian parents ascribe to these beliefs, and indeed the foundation of igbo culture rests upon these values being intrinsic facts. i’m not going to say that therefore the igbos deserved to be colonised or anything like that, but christianity and particularly catholicism took such a hold in igbos and we are so fervent about it because of and not despite the authoritarian nature of its teachings.

your parents are always right easily translates to god is always right. my parents constantly say to me that the three questions i should ask myself before doing something are ‘what would god do? what would my parents do? and what should i do?’ i shouldn’t need to point out the issues with that.

my igbo parents are wrong. looking at this evidence, this is just true. they are bigoted in a lot of ways, from being ableist, fatphobic and transphobic towards wider society and me, to being abusive towards all of their children who they view as their subordinates. they are healthcare workers who despise their vulnerable patients, and they are racist towards every culture, including dialects of their own language. they are islamophobic and they hate refugees despite us essentially being refugees ourselves. but we are not allowed to disrespect them in any case, in which disrespect is defined as disagreeing with anything they say. both igbo culture and religion and catholicism condones and encourages the unquestioning support of your parents.

when i was in primary school and struggling with social interactions and exhibiting signs of developing ocd regarding my grades at the age of six and obvious autism, my parents’ problem was that i threw a tantrum and disgraced our family, not that i was unhappy in school.

when i reported them to my teacher for abuse in year seven with my sister supporting me, they didn’t care that their children were so unhappy that they would take such drastic action as to talk about their family when it had been drilled into their heads that it was ‘wrong’ to ever let people know your family dynamics, they instead cared that we would dare go behind their backs and complain about them.

they now often wonder why i never came or indeed still don’t come to them for emotional support and advice. when i used to complain, or my siblings used to complain, my parents would take it as a personal insult that we would dare find issue with their parenting. as far as they’re concerned, i was just a weak willed child, who refused to fall in line. but if you ask them how they could’ve produced such a child if their parenting was ‘perfect’ they don’t have an answer.

this is just my immediate family. more broadly, when we are at home in nigeria, my father and grandfather must be greeted first in the morning. if we do not greet every single ‘adult’ (by which this is defined as the previous generation, not every person eighteen and over) before we start preparing breakfast for these adults, we are talked about and loudly insulted.

my grandmother on my dad’s side lives away from my grandfather because she cannot stand him. but she will not divorce him, and hell be upon you if you say a bad word against him, because that is her husband and your grandfather, and you will show him deference at all times.

my grandmother on my mother’s side was married at sixteen, and my grandfather (36 at the time of their marriage) financially and physically abused her. but my mother has not a bad word to say about my dead grandfather, and my grandmother talks fondly about the man who abused her.

my brother, a thirteen year old child, is a titled chief in my village. my two sisters and i do not have any such opportunity because we were born girls, and therefore born in servitude to the men in our lives. when we become ‘of marrying age’ (my mum is on the lookout for a suitable partner for my twenty two year old sister) we are expected to leave our birth family and not be involved in their domestic affairs, or to inherit property. the idea is that your husband will inherit property from his father and then you will rule it ‘together’ (if that husband dies without producing a son, all of the land he inherited is given to his next oldest brother). when we visit nigeria, we spend 5-6 weeks with my fathers family. we spend less than a week with my mother’s family, and my dad does not stay, because it is ‘not right’ to spend time with my mother’s family, except to pay deference to the older generation.

slavery was in part so successful at infiltrating igbo villages because of the problems inherent to such a system of inheritance. younger brothers eyeing their older brothers’ inheritances would collaborate with transatlantic slave traders to sell their brothers to their certain deaths. the igbos are not the first you meet on your way into nigeria from the coast. and yet we make up a shockingly high percentage of the historically enslaved population.

most igbos are conservative, not because conservative policies necessarily benefit them, and indeed we have been subject to ethnic discrimination in nigeria and pogroms, but they are so because you do not question the system, and the authorities who enforce it. yes, missionaries disrupted and destroyed our culture. but ultimately they brought catholicism and it reinforces our own ways of thinking, so it must be correct.

this obsession too with finding the perfect victims of colonialism is interesting. in search for the perfect victim, liberals will often twist discriminatory indigenous practices to make them seem retroactively queer. there was nothing queer about certain igbo women who chose to live like men in order to access the rights granted to said men. again this isn’t to say that the igbos deserved to be colonised and our practices and language poisoned at the root, but by swinging hard the other way, it erases the very real oppression inherent to some cultures.

I'm still fucking thinking about people advocating neo-Confucian ~extended family~ as a better alternative to western nuclear family. like girl i know there's that assumption that everyone is a white yankee but have you literally never talked to anyone who grew up in a family like that?

our barbarous system where children are the property of their parents vs their glorious system where children are the property of their parents (mystical oriental)

it's like that broader thing where people try and thin down a criticism like "you mean organised religion", "white western nuclear family", "this is such a white people thing" etc to try and weasel their way out of association with an issue.

Misogyny is not a western invention lol, the way it manifests in a lot of societies is a product of certain cultural manifestations of misogyny being exported elsewhere, but the control and ownership of women is not a "white people thing" or a western thing.

the issues of the family are not limited to the anglo saxon protestant yankee middle class nuclear family, misogyny is not unique to one group of people, racism is not unique to one group of people, homophobia is not unique to one group of people, terfs are not all middle class white women, etc etc etc etc

it's just so frustrating and kills any fucking attempt to actually talk about issues because they get drowned out with people appending on specific identities as if that issue is unique to one fucking group of people and the rest of the world is sunshine and rainbows.

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[nereidprinc3ss]

toaster waffles

in which spencer is woken up by fem!reader and their young daughter after being away on a case

fluff warnings/tags: none really, a bit of suggestiveness between spencer and reader but nothing explicit, their daughter is a genius duh, i love dad!spence so fucking much holy shit a/n: i wrote this in like thirty minutes so good luck! just needed to write dad spencer it just needed to happen idk

“No—baby, we have to let daddy sleep in,” you chide your daughter, jogging to catch her as she races down the hallway on clumsy little legs. 

“No! I wanna see daddy!” She yells—and if Spencer wasn’t awake yet, he will be now. You give in, opening the bedroom door for Ada with a fond (exasperated) sigh. 

“Daddy! Daddy wake up!” 

He blinks sleepily several times, sitting up and grinning at his daughter as she attempts to climb up onto the bed. 

“Hi, princess,” he laughs, grunting dramatically as he pulls her up onto his lap. “Oh my gosh, did you get all grown up while I was gone?”

He catches your eye as you stop at the foot of the bed, arms folded and mouthing an amused ‘I’m sorry.’ Spencer smiles and almost imperceptibly shakes his head, eyes sparkling as Ada attempts to use him as playground equipment. No apology necessary. 

“I made you breakfast!” she remembers, grabbing onto his shoulders and springing up and down on the bed. His eyes go wide. 

“You did? Where is it?”

“Oh no!” she claps her hands to her cheeks and opens her mouth wide, Home Alone style. Spencer laughs. “I forgot it!”

Then she’s wriggling off the bed and running as fast as her little feet will carry her, presumably to the kitchen. 

“You like cold toaster waffles, right?” you tease, approaching the bed and filling the now empty seat that is Spencer’s lap. His hands find your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I would go so far as to say I love them. Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you. I forgot how hard it is when you’re gone.”

He hums, running his hand over your hair. 

“I know. Me too.” Spencer now only consults on cases, and very rarely is he actually obliged to travel with the BAU. It was never easy before, but now that you have a child, it takes more out of everyone. “Hey. Look at me.”

You do, lifting your head and meeting his soft gaze. He leans forward and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pulling away. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of the progeny while I was away. I know it’s not easy on your own.”

“Eh. She’s alright. She reads to me at bedtime.”

Spencer grins, eyes darting back to your lips. Several quick kisses are pressed there in succession, and it’s not exactly how he wanted to say good morning to you but that will have to wait until later. 

“Ewww!” 

Ada is at the door again, waffle in hand, making a half-disgust half-delight face before prancing back to the bed and receiving another airlift from Spencer up onto the mattress. 

“What do you mean, ew?” he asks in mock offense as her legs swing in the air. “You’re next!”

You watch in unadulterated joy as he peppers little kisses all over her face and she pretends to hate it, squealing with glee.

“Is that for me?” he asks once she’s comfortably sharing his lap with you, pointing to the forgotten waffle. She holds it up, pressing the disk against his lips. Spencer takes a bite, makes an exaggerated yum sound, and kisses her forehead once more. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

“You have to eat all of it so you’ll grow up big and strong.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that. Why don’t you leave it on the nightstand and go find a book we can read together?”

“Game of Thrones!”

“No!” he laughs. “That book is way too grownup for you!”

“But I read the first three pages!”

“I know you did. And Auntie Penelope is still in big trouble for that. Go get Lord of the Rings.”

Full of energy despite the early hour, Ada skitters off again to find the book. 

“She’s too smart for her own good,” you sigh, listening to her making up a song as she picks through the book shelf in the next room. 

“Intelligence is generally more nurture than nature. If we act fast we could probably stunt her IQ to just two or three standard deviations above the average.”

You giggle, straddling him as he slips his hand under your shirt to rub your back. Then you try to school your features into a serious expression.

“Not funny.”

That big, lazy grin might never fade—and you’d be happy to look at it forever. 

“You’re right. Not funny at all.”

“Hey,” you remember, grabbing his biceps. He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I was gonna make you real breakfast. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to. So tell me what you want.”

“Anything other than a toaster waffle.”

You snort, moving to slide off the bed. 

“We can probably make that happen.”

“Hey—" he catches your waist, pulling you closer. “Penelope is taking Ada to the park this afternoon. We’re gonna spend some time together, okay?”

After having an entire child together, you still get butterflies when he looks at you like that. 

“What if I have plans this afternoon?”

Spencer doesn’t even look mildly concerned—just tilts his head, brushes his thumb over your lips. 

“Then I’m asking you to cancel them, pretty girl. I owe you some undivided attention.”

You chew on your lip. It’s embarrassing how easily he can still fluster you. 

“Right now I have to go find out why our child is being so quiet.”

He laughs, letting you slip from his grasp for good. 

“She probably got into the Stephen King again.”

You pick up the waffle and gesture at him with it emphatically as you walk away.

“This is all your fault.”

“Mm… let’s call it a team effort.”

[prince-kallisto]

☆*:.｡. o(��▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ Ahhh thank you very much for your reply! You worded a lot of things I was trying to say much clearer- so thank you lots 😆💖

It’s very funny how some parts of the EN fandom has such strict, self-imposed views on the Yuu’s, and the “canonicty” of…OCs lol. When TWST is honestly very freeing with their gender norms and their MC. Honestly, I feel bad for the future Pomefiore MC already- I feel like no matter what, there would be no winning -v- But I’m really excited for their future concept!!

😆💖🐦‍⬛ I’m a Crowley yume, and I’m always gushing over ever line he says and taking it romantically. But that’s just me, and I know the game isn’t an Otome. It may feed us some fanservice both in and out of game (ie merch), but it won’t be an Otome. So it’s upsetting that a small yet vocal portion of the fandom are demanding it to be one for their one ship, while also disrespecting their fellow male and NB shippers in the fandom 🤷 female, male, or NB Yuu is still Malleyuu- but again, it’s for our imaginations, not a romance for the official manga to depict. It’s…ironic that a lot of these same exact accounts were criticizing a small group of BL fans who complained a “girl Yuu was getting in the way of their ship,” while they turn around and demand a girl Yuu for a “valid” Malleyuu lmao

😆💖 if you ever write an essay, I’d love to read it! I almost wanted to rant about it myself, but I knew I’d get off topic if I rambled too much in one post 🤣 I don’t understand why conversations about more diverse romance are always shut down. We ARE making our own- it’s just a shame that’s there’s very little support for them from bigger communities! And even in communities that are kinder, whenever a male or NB fan asks for recommendations, we’re always directed to completely non-romantic games just because the player character is neutral 🤷 while I’m grateful nonetheless, it goes to show how little there is out there for us male/NB fans of romance or “otome” style games. I really love the many routes, art styles, and types of romances in Otome, and I’ve yet to seen in replicated in a more gender-inclusive format. Maybe one day! 💖

I think in regards to fanfic, the main issue I have with self-insert or gender neutral fanfics is that there’s often still descriptions of a character left behind, usually afab descriptions. When everything is fully tagged, I don’t mind as much, but it can be a whiplash otherwise. This can also happen with descriptors in a self insert like…blonde hair or something, which unless it was tagged, is certainly NOT a characteristic everyone has

😭 ANXJHD. Yeah the whole Yuuka situation is so odd. I remember a lot of excitement when she was first revealed because, girl Yuu. But now that YUUNA is released, well I’m seeing some amazing yuri fanart between the two 😆💖🌷 but again, I’ve seen several cases (surprisingly???) of Yuuna being put on a pedestal for “being more of a woman” compared to Yuuka, which is so icky. I’m happy for the femme rep, but PLEASE do not equate this to the “first real girl” rep 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I tend to lean towards a femme style for myself irl (I like to be cute 🫡), and I think I just got so upset over the situation not only for the Yuuka treatment but the sudden dysphoria LMAO 😭😭😭

Ahh random note, but I’m always very fond of the Harveston event lines about Epel. A picture of his grandma in her youth looked EXACTLY like him- just in a dress. And all the other boys complimented the photo, mistaking her for Epel. When Epel was confused about what photo they were talking about, I believe Jade said “the one where you’re wearing a dress.” There was never any blubbering over the mere idea of Epel wearing a dress- it was just a charming photo that they thought was Epel in a dress 🤷

Idk it’s just moments like those that really make the twst world feel comforting that way 😆 the world is very diverse and lively, and that fact is cemented in the way that the game Yuu is genderless. All these “rules” and expectations in the EN fandom are completely contrary to the spirit of the game.

I loved reading your ramble! It was super enlightening and it made me happy to read- thank you for reading my long rant as well! ☺️💖🐦‍⬛ I’m really grateful that me and my nonbinary sona has been really accepted in my local community, I’ve never once felt unwelcome in these spaces. But when I gaze across the vast desert that is the rest of twst social media…I learn that even a cool girl like Yuuka is controversial 🤣🤣

Ahh these are the sort of topics I don’t know how to word well in English , so forgive me if I have roundabout explanations for things 😆 this is a bit of a vent, I apologize again for any mistaken words on anything 💦

But I guess I’m just a little disheartened by the EN fandom- particularly with the whole manga Yuu situation. I adore all the Yuu’s, I love all the Yuu OCs that this amazing and creative fandom has designed.

But I’m seeing an…over exaggeration? Or pedestal put onto the Scarabia Yuu, Yuuna Oujou, and the way some people have discussed the manga Yuu’s have made me a little uncomfortable.

I’ve seen some people be like “finally! A girl Yuu for the manga!” Or “finally! A Yuu who presents herself as a woman!” (This is way different than a celebration of a femme Yuu btw).

? Yuuka, the Savanaclaw Yuu, IS a woman. Some people have been claiming that she’s “hiding her gender” in the all-boy’s school, or “downplaying” her gender, and how they’re so happy that Yuuna is “unapologetically a woman.”

But Yuuka, even in her previous world, has ways presented as a bit more masc- a very bifauxnen, cool girl type of character who is resolute in her strength because of her judo experience. A translation of the manga I read even has her referring to herself as a “ordinary school girl.” It’s just her own personal style of presenting herself. She also exercises in a sports bra! The only troubles she has is the troubles ALL Yuu’s have: that they’re magicless and aren’t meant to be here at this school and this WORLD.

And frankly, it’s uncomfortable that I’ve seen so many people in the fandom act as if feminine style is the only valid way to present as a woman, the implications that Yuuka is not a woman from the way she chooses to dress or cut her hair.

I’m so so happy that people find joy in a very femme presenting Yuu- I love Yuuna just as much! But when the conversation begins turning into…implying femininity is the only way to be/present as a woman, that’s not…it just feels awful. Yuuka was our first girl Yuu, Yuuna is the second. They present differently, but neither of them ever once worry about having the “hide” their gender. Please celebrate Yuuna’s style if that’s what you mean, instead of the “true girl” Yuu.

And on another note, there is the very popular and so far very likely theory of a “boy-girl” pattern in the manga Yuu’s- especially since all the Yuu’s so far have been the opposite gender as the Disney villains of each dorm. Meaning, the theory is that a male Yuu is likely for Diasomnia.

And I’m seeing a very vocal crowd dismissing the idea of male Yuu in the Diasomnia arc, that they want a girl, they’d hate a male Yuu, “Malleus forgot it’s not an Otome so it has to be a girl Yuu!”, they want a girl to be with Malleus “because [we] want Malleyuu.”

And again. It just feels so…alienating. Malleus and Malleyuu personally isn’t for me, but I’ve spent many years hopping around Otome and romance games in the past, and male and NB fans of these genres are frequently told that they don’t belong in the fandom, that these games cater to women.

But most conversations bringing up the possibility of romance games bringing in he/him, they/them or even customizable pronouns for the player are often shut down in most community spaces. Games like TWST, with an ambiguous MC and individual interactions with a character of your choice (ie the home screen voicelines)- or even games like Obey Me or the Arcana, are a rarity have made me really happy and feel really comfortable in the fandoms. Even if the game’s audience is mostly women, the MC/Yuu has *always* had an open identity.

So…the concept that Malleyuu is only WANTED by a portion of the fandom ONLY it’s a girl Yuu just brings back those same feelings again. Of course you may have whatever Yuu you want in your own personal Malleyuu ship!! But one girl Yuu can never represent the whole fandom, one male Yuu can never represent the whole fandom. So it’s strange there’s this complete outcry at the idea of a boy, and in turn of non-het Malleyuu ships in the fandom.

The manga and the Yuu’s have never shown a romantic relationship towards any character- any fanservicey moments still remain from the game, no matter the Yuu it’s aimed towards. And not just from Housewardens- all the characters have their bits of fanservice! But it never goes farther than that in the main story especially.

With the reveal of Yuuna, the EN fandom has been celebrating the diversity and openmindness of the world of twst, and how customizable your Yuu’s truly are. Yuu is…you! Yuu can be whoever you want. But it all falls apart when a portion of the fandom see Yuuna as the only valid girl Yuu, when the mere idea of a male Yuu for Diasomnia or for Malleyuu is bashed and hated.

Or you know what- the idea of male or even NB Yuu is bashed entirely every single time there’s a damn announcement for the manga. A while back, the Scarabia manga announcements were mistranslated in English, and the gender ambiguous language for Yuu was accidental turned into he/him (which turned out to be Yuuna). And the level of vitriol I saw over the idea of a male Yuu was so fucking disheartening. And now it’s happening all over again with a future Diasomnia manga.

Is the manga and their Yuu’s really a celebration of diversity in the EN fandom? It doesn’t feel that way, at all. Perhaps I’m just being self centered about this, but I’ve found myself increasingly upset about how vocal these two issues have been, and I wish some people could be more mindful about it

Apologies for my incoherency in this vent 💦💦💦💦💦 this is NOT hate toward Malleyuu or Yuuna fans as a whole- or towards anyone in fact. This is just a vent and a slight critique just certain parts of the fan bas

[avengersbtch]

You're Lucky Your Beautiful - Armando Aretas

Armando Aretas x Reader

Warnings: This fic does not follow to the film’s timeline.  I have altered the scenes!!

A/N Pre relationship flirting?? Or maybe pre- pre-relationship flirting lol idk but it’s cute, I think. I’m a sucker for pre relationship fics and the build up!!! 

Summary: Y/N pinged the location of Mike & Marcus’, leading to Armando meeting y/n for the first time and a roller coaster of emotions in one night.

Word Count: 3.4k

The hunt for Mike, Marcus and Armando was plastered on every news outlet known, you felt useless watching every news reporter talk down on Mike and Marcus as you were trying to look for them. Marcus felt more like father figures to you than your actual parents did so watching everyone jump at the opportunity to talk down on their reputation they built was crushing, you also knew for an absolute fact that everything they were saying was false and you would bet your life on that too. You had no feelings toward Armando, you neither liked nor hated him. Mike obviously felt deeply for his long-lost son, but you had never met him, so seeing him on the news didn’t really inflict any feelings. All you knew was that he was the key to the case and after Mike insisted he ID the suspect, Armando agreed reluctantly. 

You were snuggled on your cream cotton couch sitting on your laptop trying to track down or contact the boys without the Feds knowing. They had pulled you off their case, knowing how close you were and took most of your personal belongings or tapped the rest assuming Marcus might contact you. This laptop was your backup, backup laptop, so thankfully they didn’t find this one.

Just as you were going to call it a night, your laptop pinned an advancement on their case, a location. Of-course Mike had gone to Tabitha’s, probably not wanting to get you involved in whatever mess he’s in. You immediately jumped and ran to get dressed to be some sort of assistance, now you weren’t physically or skill-fully equipped for combat, you could admit that, however expertise excelled behind a computer, and everyone knew that. Either way you know they could at least use a safe place to stay and whatever else you could offer.

You slipped in black jeans and a long sleeve black fitted top with a hoodie, with the aim of staying as inconspicuous as possible. You quickly slipped into your sneakers as you jump into your car, following the reports of their location. You’d probably get fired for doing what you were about to do, especially given there is a high chance an actual criminal is tagging along to their adventures. That obviously being Armando, but you decided would deal with that later. 

Speeding down the highway, you could hear the sirens closing in and the gunshots becoming more consistent. As you neared the scene, you could see multiple cop cars, large four-wheeled drives, and vans at all different angles. This would be a nightmare for you to find them. You drove into an alleyway, noticing the traffic moving in the same direction and slowly parked behind a large dump bin. Exiting the car, you left the ignition running to assist in easier escape. As you walked out the alleyway, you peeked out of the corner of the wall seeing a large black van on fire. 

“Guess it wasn’t that hard to find them” you chuckled rolling your eyes at the current state of the vehicle they were using. You watched them jump out the moving van just as the van light and exploded right before your eyes. You count three. Meaning they were in fact accompanied by Armando. Great. You eyed the three of them, as they ran in your direction, you eyed the scene making sure there were no witnesses and no threats. When you deemed it safe, you stepped out of the alleyway in full vision. They all paused, Mike squinted as if recognising your figure and slowly stepped closer. 

“Y/n?!” He questioned in surprise, obviously not expecting to see a familiar face.

“Y/n? Mike what are you on about?” Marcus followed until he spotted you “Y/n!” He confirmed once he ID’d you. More for himself really. 

“let’s have a family reunion later, hurry up my car’s around there” you pointed in a hurry as you ran off expecting them to follow you. You couldn’t waste any time, you need to get the out of here before they were spotted again. You slip into the driver’s seat waiting for them to get in, taking longer than usual you turn to see Armando still outside of the car. 

“Dude, get in the car. We need to go” you hissed. Did he not understand the severity of the situation?

“How can we trust her?” Armando asked looking over my shoulder at Mike.

“Who else do you have right now? get in or I’m leaving. I really don’t care whether you live or die” I whisper yelled, pre-emptively interrupting their conversation.

“Armando, get in. We can trust her” Mike sighed. Armando’s eyes flicked over to you and back to Mike then back over to you until he decided to trust you and slipped in the back seat near Marcus. You rolled your eyes, setting your car into drive and shaking your head, as if you were begging for him to trust you. 

The drive back was silent, almost awkward giving you were aiding the escape of a fugitive. Deciding to break the long silence, you joked “So I see you guys decided to quit you day job and harbour a wanted fugitive”. 

“Ha ha y/n, just get us to yours please. We need to get to Dorn’s tomorrow morning. Armando is our only lead to ID the suspect, they’re going lengths to try and kill him” Marcus explained, and his eyes remained on the road watching for any unwanted noise. Your eyes flicked to Armando through the rear-view mirror. His eyes also trained on the road and his surroundings. You had to admit, he was extremely good looking, even with his bud light shirt and his burnt jeans, the only thing you could focus on was his shining eyes. God damn. You trained your eyes back to the road in front of you and kept driving almost smacking yourself for checking him out.

“How did you find us?” Armando asked in curiosity, though his face did not emote. If it wasn’t for the question, it was almost like he didn’t give a fuck. 

“Oh uh, I, I uhm I’ve been tracing the feeds on your location. Just about everyone is looking for you. Though they’ve been pretty late to finding you guys after the uh crash” you stuttered honestly shocked at his interest. Not sure whether he’s asking you because he wants to know or testing you. 

“Armando, y/n’s the brains behind the operation. We’ve known her since she was a kid. She’s not with them, relax we can trust her” Mike supported you, confirming your concerns. He was just testing you.

Arriving at home, you parked in your driveway, telling them to follow you as you walked up a short flight of stairs to your door. You felt a sense of nerves inviting Armando into your home and you weren’t sure whether that was because he was a criminal or extremely attractive, which was truly concerning. Walking into your home, everything remained as you left it with your laptop on the couch where you were seated, the chips and red bull beside you on the mahogany coffee table. The house wasn’t messy but looked lived in with there being left over steak and chips on the table that you hadn’t yet cleaned up from dinner, some cups in the sink that required cleaning from the night prior that were on display with the dim kitchen light still on, illuminating the small kitchen and the remaining condiments that you had not packed up yet. Your home was small along with your kitchen, so any small mess would look like a lot. 

“Sorry guys, the house is a bit of a mess. I had just finished dinner before your location pinged” you lied slightly trying to excuse the mess. “there’s leftover food if you guys are hungry and give me a sec, I’ll get you guys something to change into” you offered as you walked to fetch them clothes to change into, unsure of what  or why they were wearing those clothes. 

“What man does she have that lives here?” Armando’s thick accent echoing from the room. It sounded more pronounced than usual, Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen as you selected clothes for the three of them. 

“Why do you care?” Mike asks accusingly which makes you chuckle slightly. 

“I’m just saying, is he gonna walk in here, and see us all here and rat us out? we need to be smarter than that, or do we trust everyone that you say we can, because that didn’t work out with Tabitha” he answered defensively, and Mike threw a knowing hum as I finished collecting their clothes. 

I walk out of the spare room with the clothes and smile sweetly in hopes that maybe he’ll finally trust me and explain “My brother comes and stays at mine when he’s in town. No one is going to come in, like I said,  you can trust me” 

He stares at me again as if he doesn’t give a fuck, his eyes give away nothing and I wait expectantly for some sort of comeback. 

“Don’t worry about him y/n, he knows no one’s walking in. He just asking questions he shouldn’t” Mike waved him off as Marcus in the kitchen where he was already hammering my snacks. 

Armando still staring and this becoming increasingly awkward, you handed him some clothes, not noticing which ones you offered him, he took them without fight and walked to the shower without a single thank you, causing you to mutter “a thank you would be nice, it’s not like I’m begging for you to stay” 

“Enojado te queda bien” he mumbled as he slammed the door. You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he just told you, he could have insulted you for all you know. You had known this man for all of five minutes and he was already getting on your nerves. Slipping off your hoddie, you noticed Mike and Marcus plating some of the leftovers which you were happy about, you followed in to help them and although the man in the bathroom was pissing you off, you did feel bad for him given he was just in prison and was now on the run because someone was trying to kill him so Ultimately, you decided to plate him some too before they demolished it all. 

“Your son is showering I think, so you guys can go next. The clothes are on the couch” you announced as you plated the food. Marcus paused plating and eyed out the plate in your hand.

“I thought you ate” he asked knowingly, well it was more of a statement that caused you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me that look Marcus, I’m putting him a plate before you demolish the food” you explained in defence. 

“Mhmm” he hummed offering me a side eye while he returned to plating his food. 

“Marcus don’t mhm me! As much of a dick he is, I’m not heartless” you argued again defensively, there was most definitely nothing of what Marcus was insinuating. He was a criminal for god’s sake! Yes, a gorgeous one but nevertheless a criminal.

You moved to dish as the boys went to eat dinner on the couch, given the size of your house, there was really no room to fit a dining table in the kitchen or living room, so you opted to have a multi-use coffee table instead. As you were washing the dishes you heard the bathroom door open, forcing yourself not to turn your head only so you didn’t offer Marcus anymore ammo to suggest anything further, continuing to clean you dishes. You felt the warmth of his presence near you as you assumed he was reaching for the food you’d plated him, the closer he got, the harder it was to keep your eyes trained on the dishes, let alone your focus. You moved your eyes slightly to see him eyeing the food out with caution, any tension remaining sprinting out of your body as you rolled your eyes at his distrust.

“it’s not poisoned Armando” you stated obviously unable to hide the second eye roll. His eyes lifting with his head still facing down and lips tilted in a slight smirked. Soon after his head followed the position of his eyes, looking straight at you with a smirk. His eyes slowly skimming your now slightly more exposed body up & down until he finally reached your eyes again. Your brows furrowed yet again, analysing the situation that just occurred.

“Are you? Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?” you questioned with your voice an octave higher.

He chuckled at your question and flicked his head in demand “Can I have a fork Mami?” he asked with the same smirk on his face.

You were embarrassed to admit the baby name caught you off guard, he had your head turning to the forks trying to identify the purpose of the utensil he requested, then turning back to him trying to figure out what game he was playing.

You turned you back to the forks and him at least twice until you demanded an answer “Why are you trying to piss me off, what’s your game?” you asked furiously as you grabbed him a fork.

“Like I said, Angry looks good on you mami” he stated as a matter of fact. Your eyes widen in shock and if you were flustered before, you were a walking mess after that comment. You stood in the kitchen staring at his back absolutely flabbergasted at the sudden change, you needed a second to breath, to process the two comments he made. One minute he was as cold as Antarctica, next he was playing jokes and calling you very cute nicknames that may or may not have sounded 10 times better in his accent. You pinched yourself and walked to the living room hearing Mike call you in the background, deciding to sit on the floor far from Armando and turned straight to Mike.

“Did you like the food?” You asked Mike, trying to ignore the hot stare on your left. You could feel him staring and eating at the same time.

“Thank you so much y/n, for the food but also for putting yourself on the line for us, I know what risk you are taking.” He thanked with sincerity.

You smiled at his sincerity “Mike, you know I would stop everything for you guys, next time just come straight to me please?” you asked honestly, and he smiled back and nodded acknowledging your heartfelt request. You, out of instinct turned your focus to the burning stares on your left, forgetting your internal feud and notice him staring intently this time, no playfulness or smugness, just wonder and awe at your loyalty. His focus re-trained, noticing you starting he smiled, not one reaching his eyes but one that you could tell meant something. This smile sparked something in you, it was probably also seeing him eat like he hadn’t eaten in months, which may have truly been the case, given that he was in prison, but whatever it was it had you inclined to personally ask him if he liked the food.

“Are you enjoying the meal, Armando?” you asked as you looked at him innocently, and while it may as well could have been innocent. Armando’s heart melted at little at your concern, he could see the worry in your eyes, the need for him to say yes that he was enjoying it. Not that he would be lying if he said yes, he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in months, let alone a home cooked piece of steak but that face would have made him say yes anyway.

The jokes and games for a second forgotten, lost in your eyes and he smiled softly as he answered “Yes, thank you y/n”. She smiled and looked toward her lap with a slight blush on her face leaving Armando weak for more. He coughed almost to break the spell you had put him under and looked at Mike, his brows were raised almost as warning but right now, he really didn’t care, he just wanted to make you smile again.

“Ok, well! I’ll take that as my cue, Mike you wanna go sleep?” Marcus announced awkwardly. Mike caught on quick and jumped at the offer agreeing at least three times that he was tired.

“Oh uh of course, I have a spare room, there is a mattress under the bed too if you guys want to take the spare room?” you blinked, shaking yourself out of whatever head fuck that Armando caused as offered the room.

“Yeah, sounds good, Armando are you good to take the couch?” Mike asked not really giving him an option. Armando just nodded while finishing of his food.

“Armando can take my room, I’m okay on the couch tonight” I offered, knowing they’d only be staying here tonight.

“No. the couch is fine” He answered, causing you to frown a little as the dismissive tone on his voice. But little did you know, he didn’t want you sleeping on the couch.

“Honestly it’s fine, you guys are only here for one night and no offense, but you’ve been sleeping in a prison for ages, I fall asleep on my couch all the time” You over-explained hoping he would take you up on your offer. You looked at Mike and Marcus for encouragement and when they weren’t going to assist, you threw them a glare that forced them to convince him to take your bed. He reluctantly agreed and thanked you to which you smiled at again. God he should have said yes sooner if he’d known he’d see your smile again.

The boys cleaned up their plates and went off to bed as they had a so aggressively agreed they needed to do. You noticed Armando had finished his plate, so you offered him more which he politely declined. To say you were confused was an understatement, one minute he was mean and defensive, then flirty and now nice. He was difficult to read and even harder to please.

He packed his plate up as well; you watched as he then stood at the sink cleaning his dishes as you moved to the couch crossing your legs. He was wearing a black tank top that had his tanned arms on display, biceps flexing every time he scrubbed a little harder, at this point, you were staring at him unashamedly. Well, that was before he called you out for it.

“You gonna keep staring, or you wanna help” he smirked still washing, but you were not going to let him have this one, not while you had the confidence to stare at him.

“didn’t I give you a top plus the tank?” You asked knowing that you were calling him out for choosing to look so fucking sexy right now. Ok maybe it wasn’t much of a comeback, but hopefully it would catch him off guard, the same way he did to you. He paused washing, indicating it may have had the desired effect, causing a small smirk to lift on your lips.

He looked up, rinsing off the last dish “Where’d your hoodie go?” he asked back almost in retaliation walking closer to you. You just lifted your shoulders with a cheeky confused look on your face “Tienes suerte eres hermosa” He commented in Spanish again.

Brows furrowing yet again with a slight frown “What does that mean?” more confident to ask.

He smiled so softly and leaned in close to your face, your eyes followed his movements and face still. As he moved closer to your ear, your eyes moved straight ahead focusing on his voice. “You are lucky you're beautiful” He translated. Your head turned so quickly looking directly at him, your faces almost touching. He looked down at your lips and then back up your eyes, his head moved slightly and opted for a soft peck on the cheek as he whispered goodnight.

This man would be the absolute death of you, you knew this for sure.

[cece693]

I really loved the silent but angry reader with hannigram!! would it be possible to request a part 2? Maybe something where the reader finally snaps and like- beats someone up or something? idk lol Thank you for your time and your writing!

On The Tip of Your Tongue Pt. 2

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader doesn't care about what's said about him but when it comes to his lovers, phew, just phew, guard dog, altercation, hannigram finding it unnecessary but sweet, you showing people they're wrong

A week after that peaceful evening at Hannibal's home, you found yourself back in the maze of FBI corridors—late at night, subdued fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. It should have been a routine debrief, but Agent Lange had a knack for turning even mundane situations into confrontations. His favorite pastime: picking at your silence.

By now, you’d grown skilled at blocking his barbed comments about you—he never seemed worth the trouble. But the moment he made Hannibal or Will the targets, every fiber in your body tensed like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The trouble started in the break room, of all places. You were rinsing out a coffee mug while Will stood nearby, silently reading through case files. Hannibal was down the hall, finishing an impromptu consultation. Agent Lange sidled in, a smug half-smile plastered on his face. He began with a low mutter, obviously wanting you to overhear. “Doesn’t say much, does he?” Lange said to no one in particular, though his eyes never left you. “Probably thinks he’s too good for the rest of us.”

Will glanced up, brow furrowing. “Cut it out, Lange,” he warned, voice quiet but firm.

Lange scoffed. “Oh, look, Graham is here to defend his little buddy.” He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, then smirked. “What, you guys have some kind of arrangement with that doctor of yours? Must be real cozy, you three. Freak show if you ask me—Doctor Lecter with his fancy dinners and you, Graham, with your messed-up head. Not sure what he—” Lange shot you an assessing look “—sees in a pair of psychos.”

Your grip on the mug tightened until your knuckles turned white. You could handle insults directed at you alone. But calling Hannibal a freak—calling Will messed up—that was a line no one should ever cross.

Will started to step forward, frustration rippling in the set of his jaw. “I’m warning you, Lange—”

But Lange just kept on. “Warner from Accounting told me the three of you even share a place sometimes,” he sneered, letting out a low, mocking laugh. “That’s a real nice arrangement. Guess all the weirdos have to stick together, huh?”

In that moment, your heart pounded so loudly in your ears that you barely registered Will reaching for your arm or Hannibal appearing in the doorway. All you knew was that Lange had just gone after the two people you loved most, spat insults that made your blood boil. Before Will could hold you back, you lunged at Lange, slamming him against the countertop before grabbing him by the collar.

“Don't you ever talk about them like that,” you growled, voice trembling with fury.

Lange’s hand shot up to shove you away. Big mistake. You seized his wrist, twisting just enough to yank him off balance. Then your fist crashed into his jaw, the impact ringing through your arm. Lange staggered, barely staying on his feet. There was a collective gasp from the few agents who’d been unlucky enough to witness the altercation. Hannibal’s calm, cool voice cut through the air—firm, yet oddly soothing. “(Y/N). Enough.”

But Lange, spitting blood from a split lip, couldn’t let it go. “They’re both messed up in the head,” he snarled, glaring at you. “They deserve—” You lost all sense of caution. With a furious snarl, you shoved Lange so hard he stumbled into the table, sending files and coffee cups flying. He tried swinging at you, but you easily dodged, landing a swift, punishing blow to his ribs.

Will’s arms locked around your torso, hauling you backward. “(Y/N), stop!” he ordered, breath tight.

Still seething, you struggled for a second, your gaze locked on Lange’s crumpled form. Hannibal stepped in front of Lange, effectively blocking him from view, placing himself between you both. For a heartbeat, you saw a flash of something like approval in Hannibal’s eyes—gone in an instant, replaced by measured concern.

A tense hush fell over the break room. Lange groaned, pressing a hand to his side, shooting you a hateful glare. Will released you slowly, scanning your face for any sign of lingering rage. “Hey,” he whispered, “breathe.”

You inhaled shakily, your fury still smoldering beneath the surface. “He insulted you,” you spat, voice hoarse. You glared over Will’s shoulder toward Lange. “Both of you. He had no right.”

Hannibal stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. You could feel the gentle pressure, calming like a steady pulse. “That’s quite enough for tonight,” he said in that refined, even tone. Then, turning a cold gaze on Lange, he added softly, “You would do well to keep further opinions to yourself.”

Lange, nursing his bruised jaw, spat out an obscenity but didn’t press his luck. One look at Will, still standing protectively in front of you, made him think twice. He shoved a chair aside and stumbled out of the room, muttering threats about filing a report.

The ride back to Hannibal’s home was drowned in thick, static tension. You sat in the back seat, staring out the window with your jaw tight, chest still heaving from residual anger. Will occupied the passenger seat, arms folded, gaze flicking every so often to the rearview mirror where Hannibal’s impassive face reflected back. No one spoke a word. The hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement were the only sounds.

By the time the car pulled up to the stately brick home, the air felt electric. Hannibal parked with his usual precision, and you exited wordlessly, your lovers flanking you on either side. You stepped into the foyer, your breath still shallow from the surge of adrenaline. Hannibal immediately ushered you toward the kitchen with gentle but insistent pressure on your lower back.

“Sit,” he instructed, voice low and calm in that familiar, cultured way. “Let me see your hands.”

Will leaned against the marble island, arms crossed, watching as Hannibal carefully took hold of your bruised knuckles. You winced when he turned on the faucet, letting cool water run across torn skin. For a moment, Hannibal focused solely on rinsing away dried blood. Once satisfied, he turned off the tap and reached for antiseptic and gauze. His eyebrows knit in that slight, discerning frown he wore when studying a patient—or a lover, in need of care.

“You truly did a number on him,” Will commented quietly, pushing off the counter. He walked over, eyes flicking between your injured hands and your tense expression. “Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath, finally speaking for the first time since leaving the FBI. “He insulted you,” you said, voice hoarse with lingering fury. “I could’ve handled the things he said about me. But about you two? I couldn’t just stand there.”

Will’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “We’re not exactly fragile, you know. We didn’t need you to defend us.”

Hannibal cast Will a knowing glance but addressed you. “However, that does not mean we didn’t appreciate it,” he said, carefully affixing the final piece of gauze. His eyes flicked up to yours, a subtle heat behind them. “Or find it intriguing.”

“Hot, actually,” Will added, stepping closer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a hint of a grin that bordered on playful. “Watching you lose your temper like that…seeing you go from silent to lethal in a heartbeat. I can’t pretend it wasn’t a little—” he cleared his throat, “arousing.”

You felt your face flush at Will’s admission. His candor took some of the edge off your anger, replacing it with a wave of self-conscious heat. Hannibal’s expression betrayed no surprise—if anything, a knowing gleam lit his dark eyes. He folded your freshly bandaged hand into both of his, pressing a light kiss to your wrist.

“That flash of violence,” he said quietly, “while I don’t endorse needless brutality, I do find it befitting of you. That anger in your eyes, the way you allowed for it to consume you was beautiful."

You swallowed hard, letting your gaze flick from Hannibal to Will. “But I— I nearly lost control.”

Will’s voice dropped lower, tinged with empathy and something else. “He had it coming. Besides, we would've stopped you before it really became a problem."

Despite the swirling emotions—anger, relief, lingering adrenaline—warmth spread through your chest. You exhaled the breath you’d been holding. The raw edges of your temper began to soften, replaced by a comforting sense of belonging. “Next time,” you said, voice low, “I’ll try to give you a little warning before I snap.”

Will’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Sure,” he teased. “Even if it’s just a look—anything to let us know you’re about to unleash hell, so we can pull up a chair and enjoy.”

A gentle chuckle rumbled in Hannibal’s chest. He raised your bandaged hand to his lips again, pressing a second kiss to the gauze, an oddly chivalrous gesture. “If there is a next time,” he said, his dark eyes glinting with sincerity, “we’ll be right at your side. Not because we need the defense but because we relish your fervor.”

That final declaration, spoken in Hannibal’s cultured tone, cradled in Will’s soft laugh, was enough to steal the last vestiges of your anger. You let yourself sink into the moment—the quiet acceptance, the shared heat, and the unwavering knowledge that, here, you were safe to be exactly as you were.

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Zest for life

How I think the Tulpar crew would make YT videos

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

[saeyoungchoismaid]

Idk who this is but…GOD MOTHER FUCKIN D A M N

let your hair down

_________________

Amongst Us | Carciphona | Instagram | Twitter

[y13evie]

Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

[dreamingofbucky]

IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.  

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself. 

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore. 

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want. 

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice. 

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder. 

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read. 

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles. 

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance. 

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved. 

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat. 

He finally replies. “I had to see you.” 

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words. 

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex. 

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck. 

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. 

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.” 

Oh. You weren’t expecting that. 

“I’m sure they do,” you quip. 

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point. 

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough. 

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be. 

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously. 

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability. 

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you. 

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know. 

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore. 

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger. 

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?” 

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment. 

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic. 

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious. 

“Nothing happened. You happy?” 

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.” 

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around. 

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.” 

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads. 

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring. 

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–” 

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters. 

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed. 

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.” 

“It was for me, sabes esto.” 

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite. 

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore. 

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him. 

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.” 

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point. 

“I needed to see you one last time.” 

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?” 

He nods. 

“What do you mean, Miguel?” 

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that. 

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.” 

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly. 

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.” 

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?” 

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.” 

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.” 

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.” 

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply. 

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters. 

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?” 

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.” 

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.” 

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it. 

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath. 

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it. 

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe. 

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.” 

His words aren’t registering in your brain. 

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.” 

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest. 

“Finish then,” you push. 

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs. 

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.” 

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his. 

“You hurt me,” was all you could say. 

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.” 

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods. 

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?” 

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be. 

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees. 

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life. 

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?” 

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.” 

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.” 

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment. 

“I can’t repair what’s been done.” 

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.” 

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone. 

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.” 

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement. 

“Can I?” He asks softly. 

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could. 

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips. 

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod. 

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time. 

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one. 

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds. 

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths. 

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod. 

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for. 

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck. 

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past. 

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him. 

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to. 

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally. 

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp. 

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that. 

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand. 

“Need you,” he pleads. 

“You have me,” you assure him. 

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat. 

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.” 

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now. 

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–” 

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation. 

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch. 

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined. 

“So big,” you gasped. 

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?” 

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it. 

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust. 

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too. 

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way. 

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust. 

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts. 

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.” 

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy. 

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you. 

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?” 

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.” 

“I know,” you confess with a smile. 

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon. 

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest. 

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.” 

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you. 

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

[hairenya]

The tags are the funniest thing I’ve read all week

Have you seen our(tumblr) news network(the destiel confession meme) yet?

I have and I don’t understand why that one person loves the other one but at least I get news :3

[hungerhutch]

LUCKY

Peeta Mellark X AFAB!reader

Summary: you're worried about him during the quarter quell

Tags: fluff, slight angst, insecure little Peeta baby😔, kissing, one or two innuendos, three uses of y/n, established relationship (your in Katniss's place, obvi)

wc: 3.134k

Notes: there is definitely not enough Peeta fics!! I'm also working on a hijacked Peeta fic based off of one of my favorite songs! (idk when I'll finish it). Enjoy! also reposting this since it flopped

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

It had been three hours since Peeta hit the force field and Finnick had to resuscitate him.

You have been keeping a frantic eye on him, just in case there was another deadly object he wants to bump into (silly lil Peeta. You can’t take him anywhere fr fr). 

“y/n- I swear I'm fine. You don't have to keep watching me.” Peeta mumbles and glances at you.

“I know, I'm just scared.. Maybe you shouldn’t be so clumsy.” you tease, trying to calm some of your nerves.

“Ok, ok. I get it. I thought everyone knew I was the weak one in the alliance.” he chuckles and shakes his head.

 “What do you mean? You’re not weak, Peeta. You won the games.” you look at him and raise your eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I won the games because of you. I was just.. Lucky.” he looks back at you and shrugs.

“Lucky? Peeta, I’m the lucky one. We probably wouldn’t have made it together if you didn’t find those berries.” you sigh and scoot closer to him. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you gently. “y/n.. Just because I found some berries, doesn’t mean I’m not weak. I’m just a baker.. You deserve someone who can take care of you.”

You gently grab his chin and turn his head to face you. “But you can. You’re the only person I feel safe with. And I like that you’re a baker. It makes you more adorable.” you giggle softly and stare into his eyes. 

“You’re just saying that.” he blushes faintly and rolls his eyes playfully.

“No, I'm not.” you brush away a piece of his hair and shake your head.

He smiles at you and wraps his other arm around you.

You rest your head in his lap and lean against him, smiling back up at him as he strokes your hair. 

“So it's true. I guess the ‘star-crossed lovers’ are actually real.” Finnick snorts, nudging Johanna next to him.

“Isn't it obvious? I thought it was hilariously clear when she started whaling on him and shouting at all of us after his heart stopped.” Johanna laughs, nudging him back.

“I thought she was gonna start punching me after i gave him mouth to mouth.” He laughs with her, glancing at the two of you.

“‘Peeta! Peeta! Omg Peeeetaa!!’” Johanna mimics you, laughing even harder with Finnick.

You glare at them and sit up from his lap. “Do you two ever shut up?”

“Oh please, we all know how you got that ‘baby’ inside you.” He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “You two make me sick.”

“Whatever, lover girl.” they laugh again and walk back over to the rest of the group

You sigh and lean back against him “I can’t stand them sometimes.” 

“Me either.. I just wish they would give us some time to ourselves.” he mumbles and kisses you on the forehead. 

“‘Wanna go for a walk? For a break?” you smile and raise your eyebrow

“Yeah, why not?” he smile back at you and stands up

“Hey ‘love birds’! Come back with another bun in the oven so we can get some sponsors, eh?” Finnick shouts and laughs harder. 

“Don't make me shoot you!” you shout back and grab his hand as you head deeper into the jungle.

You lean against a tree next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “I miss home so much. I would do anything to have your cinnamon buns one last time before my stupid inevitable death.”

“Cmon y/n, you’re not gonna die. I’ll make sure of it.” he strokes the side of your head with his thumb. “Once we get home together, I’m gonna make you your own batch.” he chuckles and pecks the top of your head softly.

“Peeta, you know it's practically impossible to get out of this together, right?” you glance up at his face and smile sadly.

“I know, but I'm willing to risk those odds. I’m sure I'm lucky enough” he smiles back at you and moves his hand from your hair to your cheek.

You grin and pull him into a soft kiss. Not a forced one, for the cameras or for the capitol. A real kiss. 

“you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to.” he says after you pull away.

“I know.” you nod and kiss him again.

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

[frillsand]

WHAT ARE YOUR BOUNDRIES I CANNOT FIND THEM I LOVE ACTOR WALLY I JUST WANNA KISS HIM I ROMANCED HIM SO MANY TIMES IN CAI I think im addicted <3 have a lovely day

Alrighty, Rules and boundaries

Au ocs are welcomed

Shipping your ocs with any of them is also welcomed 💅

Making art on the au is very cool and I would like to see it so tag me if you want

Making minor changes to the au to fit in a character is also cool. You can throw out Janet if you want to change his assistant

Uuumm idk you can throw Wally into the sun. I’m ok with a lot, just use common sense and stuff. Tag stuff how it should be tagged, and in case I have to say it,keep it legal obvi

I’ll add more if I’m missing something

[vickyzangels]

% “eres ese algo que mi mente ha estado imaginando”

# synopsis ; i’m literally just writing down a thought cause i wanna go to sleep

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x reader

# word count ; 437

# tags ; nsfw (mdni), unprotected p in v, pre-established relationship (i literally label him your boyfriend so idk if i even need this tag), half awake writing if it’s bad i didn’t do it

a/n ; meine schatz - my treasure, liebchen - sweetheart

you very very briefly mentioned to your boyfriend over text that you wanted to see what’d it be like to get fucked face down, ass up.

t: isn’t that just doggy ??

idk its supposed to have a diff angle to it i think

the conversation moved on quickly, and that was seemingly the end of it. and then tonight you both came back from a trashy party in some celebrity’s mansion, so what better way to end the night than to try out that position you brought up?

“fuckk-k.. please..! s’ deep… godf-!” you muffled from your hotel room’s sheets. sure, tom said a lot of things during interviews, but he very rarely lied, and he very much didn't when he said he was 24 cm. shit, you swore you could feel him in your stomach and yet you could feel his tip hitting your spongy g-spot with every push to the hilt of his cock.

he was moving so slowly but he knew that this angle was doing you so much justice, of course he knew, even between his groans you could hear his infamous smirk. you don’t know how much more you can take, the throbbing of pleasure was swallowing you whole and god- if your pussy subconsciously clenched around him one more time and pulled him somehow deeper into you, your eyes would look at the back of your head with how hard you’ve been rolling them.

tom wasn’t helping your case, he very much was not helping your case with how he was running calloused fingers over the arch of your back, ensuring that your head was far into the pillows. who knows how many times you came on his dick, trying to wrench away from him through every orgasm and yet simultaneously pushing yourself back onto it.

“one more, meine schatz, just one more i promise.”

he sounds so supportive and willing and fuck, you believe him, even if he said that the last 2 times. this time he might actually mean it, though, when he pushes himself up and braces a soft palm that you've come to love on the back of your head, gently securing your head down before he pulls almost entirely out of you and in suddenly quick thrusts, completely bottoms out in you, over and over and over again.

this time he’s not brushing your spot anymore, he’s aiming and hitting directly at it. any form of verbal communication coming out of you completely melts into loud mews and gasps, barely shaping together a choppy, “can-t… take it..!”

“yes, you can, just take it a little longer, liebchen.”

a/n ; birthday coming up soon yay

a/n 2 ; WAS I JUST A FOOLL ⁉️ YOU’LL NEVER GET AWAY FROM THE SOUNNDD OF THE WOMAN WHO LOVED YOU‼️

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

taglist ; @cup1d-lix @imabitchh @arquiiva @verelace @iovemoonyy @everseve

[affogato-analysis]

Caitlyn as a symptom of Piltover’s violence

No because i need to throw hands with both her haters and lovers.

Mass spoilers for Arcane, season 1 & 2, for every characters.

(post is like 2k words)

(small edit it's been five hours and you guys are so kind and positive?? i love you so much, the conversations are so fun! the reblogs i see u and ily, my ego is soaring! i got more arcane rants coming if u wanna tag along idk lmao)

(thanks a lot is all i mean to say)

Was what Caitlyn did in season 2 act 1 terrible? yes. Does that make her a terrible person? debatable. Is she the best girl ever and above any criticism? also no what the fuck.

What happens to Caitlyn, essentially, is that she loses her mother and burns for justice and vengeance, and is willing to do all she can to reach her goal. Which is not an uncommon arc in Arcane, to be willing to burn it all for your family and getting overwhelmed by anger and loss.

The main difference is the scale and power dynamics. Because the chembarons have their shimmer, Vi has her gauntlets, Powder and Jinx have bombs, Silco and Vander have allies but they quite match each other when it comes to power until the very end.

So why is Caitlyn’s case so apart from the others? Here’s the thesis: Caitlyn is a symptom and the harm she causes is a consequence of Piltover’s domination over Zaun. I will argue for it thank you.

The main characteristic of Caitlyn, in the context of Piltover leading a targeted assault on Zaun, is that she is the one with power. Caitlyn is, first and foremost, a Kiramman. The show’s explicit about the power of the name, because with the name comes respectability, status, wealth. The Kiramman family is a powerful one, that’s why Ambessa chooses her above Salo. Both Cait and Salo have enough hatred for the Undercity to follow her lead if she plays her cards right, but Caitlyn, even if not officially appointed, has the power to exist in the Council’s room. Salo is nothing beyond the Council — and while it gives him power, his own family or personal entreprises are irrelevant enough that we do not know of them — while Caitlyn is powerful even without the Council — she does bypass every standard enforcers recruitment procedures to get Vi in, and thus we are told that she is one of the most important if not the main funder of the enforcers. In a state holding its peace through sheer violence and constant repression (especially after Jinx’s rocket), if one private actor owns your police force, you are at that actor’s mercy (which, yes, does turn on Cait when Ambessa’s soldiers take over).

Most importantly for us, the Kiramman hold one monopoly of power over Zaun. A vital need of Zaun they are the only ones to answer. Yes, we’re talking about the vent system. Caitlyn, in her anger and in her determination to do whatever it takes to get to Jinx, is willing to use every power she has. That includes her rifle and her aim, when she takes the shot at Jinx despite Isha and Vi standing in between, but also the vent system.

And as we’ve said, Caitlyn is going through a fairly usual character arc in Arcane of becoming a monster for love, for family, only to be brought back by love and family (Vander i’m looking at you) (and then that culminated into nothing to serve Viktor’s character arc tihi) (i mean it when i say Caitlyn has an amazing arc). It just so happens that Caitlyn owns Zaunites’ right to breathe. Is it immoral to weaponize it? Absolutely, and we can deplore the lack of political repercussions on the Kiramman in the show but that’s a more general criticism: the audience and the Zaunites are expected to just forgive Piltover to ally against Noxus. We can have sincere grievances about that (i do, and a lot of caitlyn hate comes from there from what i’ve seen) but it’s not a Caitlyn exclusive problem.

The thing is, Caitlyn’s weaponizing of the vent system isn’t the root of Piltover’s oppression or of enforcers’ violence. It’s a symptom of this violence. Cait can weaponize the vents because she owns them, because Zaun’s clean air is her possession. Because Zaun’s vital needs are dependent on Piltover. Cait doesn’t even realize just how much she’s hurting Zaun. She knows she’s gassing them but, and to her credit, it’s a fairly targeted assault (what Cait is doing isn’t terrorism!) but she is a reminder that whatever little fresh air they have, it’s still a mercy from Piltover. Piltover engineers a problem and a solution and holds that solution above Zaun’s head to silence their protest. This is domination, this is the root of that vent system being oppression still: the Kiramman hold Zaun’s air hostage and it took two mourning girls for that hand to cut off the air flow.

Caitlyn makes herself an enforcer of that violence in her grief, and that’s the symptom of a deeply ingrained disease. The root of that disease is always, always the inequalities between Piltover and Zaun.

The violence is the symptom of a system that is critically failing, repression means your governing body is illegitimate, weaponizing clean air is oppression to its finest.

To argue this point a bit further, we’re gonna circle back to Silco and Vander and how their power dynamic influences their behaviors and how their power struggle drives the entire undercity.

Vander and Silco both benefit from powerful allies. Vander has Grayson, Benzo and his position as bartender of the Last Drop makes him a valued member of the Undercity for Zaunites. Silco has Singed, Sevika and an entire network himself. They are two pillars of Zaun, creating a status quo that they work to maintain (at least their own position of domination) while furthering their own goals: Vander wants to raise his kids, Silco wants the independence of Zaun. Two vastly different sets of goals admittedly and that’s what leads them to reach out to vastly different individuals to help maintain it. Vander seeks out Grayson with whom he strikes a deal, while Silco allies with Singed for shimmer.

And when power suddenly shifts, when the right conditions appear, when the status quo is shaken, that’s when Silco asserts his power over Vander and his domination over the Undercity. Vander is put in a vulnerable position (his deal with Grayson isn’t enough anymore and he’s arrested) and Silco seizes the opportunity, deploys a power he has a monopoly over (shimmer). And after Silco wins against Vander, he can deploy his power over all of Zaun.

The status quo between Piltover and Zaun is constantly imbalanced. Piltover has already won at the beginning of the show and has been asserting, over and over again, through violence and in an abusive fashion, its domination on the Undercity. Caitlyn is like Silco in that comparison, she uses a power over which she has a monopoly (vent instead shimmer), in an unbalanced situation that puts her in the situation of the oppressor.

(And facing her, there is someone who is willing to turn that power against her. Just like Vander using Shimmer to protect his children, Sevika and Jinx using the vents for their own colorful clouds.)

Cait isn’t a poor innocent victim of circumstances but you have to acknowledge context and, in a show where parallels are so frequent, you can’t pretend she’s a completely unique character going through a completely unique arc completely unrelated to anyone else. If you hate her, hate a lot of other people too!

And, as is typical in Arcane, characters are monsters for love, and brought back by love.

And Caitlyn’s arc shows that! Past arc 1, she was lost. Vi had left, Jayce was missing, her mother was still dead even if after all she did, her father was a shadow of himself, the only one she had was Ambessa who was fueling her vendetta to further her own colonialist agenda. Suddenly she was alone, serving as a puppet on top of a pile of gold and too much power she couldn’t control. She can’t call back the gas once it’s out after all, she can’t call back the martial law Ambessa installed now that the resentment is growing in Zaun and that Ambessa is the one holding the reins of enforcers.

That’s why her switching sides was so immediate: when Vi calls her cupcake, she brings the girl forth, before the monster. She gives her love and Cait latches onto it, and uses it to pull herself away from that trap she walked right in. “Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? For love” & “Is there anything as undoing as a daughter?”: love is forever the way in and out of hate.

I am very disappointed that we never got a proper conclusion to the tensions between Zaun and Piltover. I wish we had witnessed negotiations between Ekko/Sevika/Jinx/a representative of Zaun and the Council, I wish they had gotten control of the vent system, promises of fair trade, independence, something. I wish Caitlyn had been made to apologize and deliver herself the keys to the vent system to Zaunites. I wish for a lot of things about the political resolution in season 2 and the show did not go how i wanted it to. Does deviating from what I wanted inherently make the show bad? No, although I do think it wasn’t the greatest this time around.

I however can not talk shit about the character arcs. Not all are as well crafted as Caitlyn but i will take no more Caitlyn slander on the basis of “she’s a fascist!”. 1- that’s not what fascism is, although she did walk a line close by; 2- she’s a symptom of oppression, and by reproducing she makes herself an agent of it. She weaponises Zaun’s air because she can because she’s in power because she’s the heiress to the Kiramman. Doesn’t make what she’s doing less harmful, but it has to be treated in context. Caitlyn is still a twenty something grieving girl with her entire world shaken up, she just so happens to also be the heiress to an extremely wealthy and powerful family in an oppressive system and every path that opens to her, in the midst of her hatred, brings her to reproduce that domination in the most efficient way she has access to: the vents and the enforcers.

And, yes, by reproducing domination she is also an engineer of it. It’s important to acknowledge that what she's done is bad to put it simply, but do not denature her character to fit a conception of her that is easy to hate. I will put part of the blame on internalized misogyny too, as it pushes us to have less leniency and tolerance for women’s mistakes. No because I haven’t seen half that much hate towards Silco who, reminder, made the Undercity kneel by giving them severe shimmer addiction (engineering an issue and making himself the sole owner of the solution while maintaining it as a form of domination, everyone see where i’m going with this?).

Again, do I wish we’d seen more of the political consequences on Caitlyn of that? Yep, absolutely. But I will not blindly hate on her while ignoring the global context of her actions and I invite you to do the same.

Tell me, do you hate Jinx for her so-called terrorist acts or do you see them as part of resistance against Piltover? You can not see the context when you like it only i’m afraid, and, in an unprecedented show of nuance for the internet, we can understand context and acknowledge moral complexity and still hate someone.

Hate Caitlyn if you want, but do it in a constructed way so we can argue together please! I need to talk about this show so badly, please hate the enforcers and the change in Cait’s character but do so in a well-argued fashion, i beg of you.

[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.”

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