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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

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The Anonymous Annotator (Steven Grant x reader)

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Prompt: ARGUING!! then a heated "kiss me." and suddenly their hands are all over each other

Warning: MDNI, dom!Steven, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, dry humping, cockwarming (if you squint), nipple play

A/N: Ok so I was watching MK again, as one does and I realized I want more of the Steven who talked back to Marc before he and Layla went to explore the tomb, so here is Steven being a little shit, cuz that's hot. Forget everything you know about sweetie Steven, k bye.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You sat in your dorm listening to music when you heard a knock on your door. You jumped up and opened the door, only to find a mysterious package on your doormat. It was wrapped in brown paper and had your name scrawled on it with messy handwriting. You rushed to your bed and pulled the string, tearing open the paper, revealing one of your spicier books that you hid under your bed, making your eyes widen.

You frantically threw yourself off the bed to check under the bed and to your absolute horror, the book wasn't there. You spread your legs in front of you and pulled the book from the top of your bed and flipped to the front page, where the same handwriting blossomed.

“To the one who’s eyes make the stars feel shy.”

You flipped through the pages and found every bit of white space was covered in intricately detailed annotations. Your face heated up and you spent the next few hours reading how the mysterious annotator would alter the events of the books to make it more suitable for you. You gulped at the small smiley faces that would mark the end of the most crude sentences that you had ever laid your eyes on.

“Where would you like my hands, sweet angel? Around your wrists, while I watch your tits bounce around while I thrust myself into you? Around your thighs, when I pin you down as you squirm against my face when my tongue carves my name out in your wetness? Around your neck, to see whether you’d be able to resist the urge to cum around my cock without me even moving a single muscle? :)”

It was seductive, and you were absolutely tantalised by the idea that you had a secret admirer. Suddenly, you can’t think about anything else but sex.

“I wonder if I could fold you over like this, cover you with my spend after I’ve fucked you like a pathetic toy, leaning all of my body weight against you to whisper more things that could cause your pussy to clench around nothing.”

Every word, every phrase that was etched into the pages of the book in pencil burned coarsely against your skin and mind.

“I think the protagonist could totally do better here. I’d love to hear your pretty noises as I devour you whole, to watch you come apart from my touch would be a blessing like no other.”

You feel a warm pulsing somewhere below as you try taking deep breaths, trying to control the urges that rushed through your body. You rub your thighs together and you are suddenly hyper aware of your body’s changes, your skin feeling prickly, your breasts feeling uncomfortably trapped under your bra.

“Hah, rearranging her guts? I’d rearrange your brain chemistry just with my fingers in your sweet tight cunt.”

The warm tingling pulsation of your clit and increasing wetness and builds up from there, to the point of frustration where you have trouble thinking about anything other than your complete desire to be filled by the person who had taken the time to write all of their unrefined and vulgar thoughts on paper.

“I’d let you sit and warm my cock for hours with you reading this over and over, till your eyes get tired and your cunt puls-”

Suddenly, your phone rang and you snapped out of whatever trance you were in, realising that it was your alarm for your class. You shook your head and slammed the book shut, throwing it into your bag, leaping up to leave your dorm.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You chewed your inner cheek as you tried to listen to the lecturer, nervously tapping the table to calm your mind.

“Quit the tapping, dumbass, I can’t focus.” hissed the person beside you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to glare at Steven Grant, third year Egyptology student and your No.1 academic rival. Pity the fact that he was such a pretty boy because he was sometimes just a sarcastic cunt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger a little longer at the silhouette of his side profile, your sight grazing down the beautiful curve of his nose and settling on the plump of his lips.

Steven knew you were staring but didn’t say a word. His eyes were trained on the lecturer before him and he was quite positive that the lecturer was going to call you out any second now.

“Is there something more interesting about Mr. Grant’s face?” you heard the lecturer call out to you and you tore your gaze away from Steven and looked horrifyingly at her.

Steven bit his bottom lip and tried not to smirk as you slowly stood up from your seat.

“Uh, no Ms. he, umm,” you tried to speak but your mind was jumbling at the thought of being caught and called out all in one second.

“Sit down! And eyes on the board, young lady, I want your focus here as your grades have been steadily declining.” the lecturer said before turning back to the board.

Your face was flushed and your hands were shaking. You could literally feel the smugness radiating off Steven and you gritted your teeth and stared forward, determined to keep your eyes on the board. For the past few weeks, you had been plagued with the mysterious book annotator and your focus had been slipping. You found yourself searching far and wide for the person’s likeness but you never seemed to catch the person anywhere near you.

Finally the class was dismissed and you quickly gathered all your things and practically sprinted for the exit when you heard your lecturer call your name. You turned to see Steven speaking to your lecturer and sweat beaded at your palms, knowing you were in deep shit today.

“Mr. Grant here has agreed to tutor you, with the promise that you would make proper grades this semester.” your lecturer said and you glared at Steven who had a sweet, innocent smile on his face.

“Your tutoring sessions are whenever Mr. Grant is free and you are to focus, alright?” you hated the way the lecturer was speaking to you but you purse your lips and nodded.

“My place, 8 pm today.” Steven whispered and you grimaced but nodded.

Steven eyed the book that poked out of your bag as you quickly walked away and smirked to himself.

“If she doesn’t have the brains to figure it out herself…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“No look, that happened before this, you’re getting the timelines mixed up!”

“I’m getting the timelines mixed up? What about you? Did you write this goddamn book, Steven?”

You knew how this was going to go down, you and Steven arguing away about the stupidest misunderstanding. Your pride made it hard to back down as Steven tried teaching you, and you could tell that he was genuinely trying from the way he pulled out his own flashcards to help you. You couldn’t admit defeat, not to Steven Grant. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pushing your knuckles into your eyes and counting from one to ten before looking up at Steven again.

“Come on, it's not that hard.” Steven tried justifying as he flipped through the cards again.

“It’s fucking difficult Steven, stop sounding so fucking smart.” you groan.

“You’re not that fucking stupid either, I just need you to focus.” Steven chastised you, slightly more gently this time.

“I’d probably focus better if you didn’t make such a hot fucking teacher.” you hissed under your breath as you flipped the page angrily.

“What?” Steven whispered.

“You heard me.” you snapped, glaring at him. “You know, you’d probably teach me better if you stopped giving me those big ‘fuck me’ eyes either. Like what? You want me to kiss you or something?”

You were definitely losing your shit as Steven inhaled a sharp breath of air. Suddenly, everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have the time to register the book being ripped out of your hands and soft plump lips settling against your own. It was a soft kiss at first, testing, unsure, but when you began to move your lips against his, it became more passionate as he pulled you onto his lap without a second thought.

It took you long enough to push past your primal urges to realise that you were kissing Steven Grant. You snapped out of it and pushed him away, only to see his flushed face, swollen lips and half lidded eyes. It switched on something in you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close once again as your lips began another dance with his. His hands were on your hips as he pushed your clothed core against him, groaning into your mouth.

“Fuck, Steven, what’s happening?” you whisper against his forehead as he trailed kisses along your cheek and jaw, making your muscles buzz with anticipation.

“Let it happen, love.” he moaned against your neck as you pressed yourself onto his hardening member again.

Your hands found his soft hair and you pulled him closer as he began to suck softly at the soft skin of your neck. One of his huge hands palmed at your tits through your tank top, twisting at your hardening sensitive bud and you arched your back, whining and leaning towards your source of pleasure.

“Love your pretty noises. Don’t stop.” Steven softly encouraged you as he continued to play with your nipple, your mind racing into overdrive.

There was a familiar throb that bloomed inside of you at Steven’s words as something finally clicked. Steven must have sensed the shift too as he smirked darkly against your neck, instantly biting down so that he could drag you away from saying what you needed to say.

“Bloody hell, unngh, it was you.” you managed to say as Steven pushed you against his hardening erection.

“Mhm.” Steven moaned as he licked a long strip up your neck to your ear, kissing the shell of your ear softly.

Every part of you felt sensitive, all tuned towards Steven. You had the sudden urge to be filled and you rutted yourself over and over against him, as if begging him to know what you actually needed.

“Is it okay if I touch you like this?" His question was spoken lowly, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile veil that was forming over the both of you.

“Yes, please, mngh, why didn’t you tell me sooner…” you whimpered as his hand grabbed your ass, kneading it softly as his fingers dug through your shorts, trying to feel your skin.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” he murmured as his lips met yours again.

You were lost for words as the pages and pages of vulgarity blinded your eyes, making you squeeze them shut as you suddenly feel Steven pick you up. You were now lying on a bed, his bed, staring up at the mysterious annotator who had been plaguing your mind with absolute filth and filling your dreams with sweet wet melodies that cursed you throughout your waking life.

“I bet you know the things I’d like to do to you, my sweet angel.” He said, trailing both of his hands down from your shoulders to the top of your tank top.

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Sweet Steven Grant who only cares about his studies? Oh please, darling, let me catch a break.” He ripped your tank top with surprising strength, leaving you bare for him.

His darkened iris dragged themselves down your body, painting you with their own poetry that could not be described using words in the English dictionary. He pulled his sweater off himself and you gulped at how defined he looked. This shouldn’t be attractive. You shouldn’t be attracted to your rival. You shouldn’t be attracted to the guy who stole one of your private possessions and spilled all of his blasphemous thoughts on it before slyly returning it.

“Wanted to do this since the first day I laid my eyes on you. Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl until I got ahold of one of your books, love.” He said into your chest and you gasped at his confession, your brain still trying to comprehend everything.

Steven had your head out of your books for weeks and now he had his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as you cried his name and pushed his head against you. You desperately needed him to quiet your mind with his tongue and you wanted it so bad that you were already shaking under him. His fingers hooked at your waistband and your hands join him there and the both of you slowly pull your shorts off you.

Steven felt up your thighs, telling you how soft you are, how nice and warm your thighs are and how they’re so pretty, whilst burying his her head in your shoulder and neck, lightly panting and nuzzling you. His hand slowly slid to your mound as he started peppering small kisses along your collarbone. His fingers grazed your hardening nub between your legs as you clench your legs together and turned your head to the side. One of his legs wrenched yours open and pinned you down, sliding his fingers through your wet swollen folds, groaning against you.

“Inside Steven” He obeys, pushing one finger inside and pumping it slowly, bringing his face up to watch your expressions contort beautifully on your face.

You throbbed and twitched around him, your cunt responding beautifully to his touch as his thumb rubs soft circles around your clit. Steven adjusted himself and now had been grinding down his erection on your thigh, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet cunt. Quick breathy moans filled the air as they mingled together and you could barely differentiate yours and Steven’s from the heavy ringing in your ears.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you to be.” he whispers and you sigh.

Suddenly his hands are off you and you whine at the loss of touch but it quickly morphed into a moan as Steven’s tongue flicked at your clit. He was so worked up that he pushed his entire face into your already wet cunt and breathed in deeply, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head. He started fucking you with his tongue, thrusting the flexible muscle in and out of you with accurate precision that had you writhing around. He pushed two fingers into you easily and started pushing them in and out as he latched himself onto your clit. Your cries were getting louder and more uncontrollable now as you found yourself heading towards your first clift of the night

“Shut the fuck up and listen, Listen to how fucking wet you are, how fucking wet you are for me.” Steven says, going shallow at first so that you could hear all the sloppy, vulgar noises that your cunt was making.

Your face was heating up and you tried to hide behind your hands but Steven wrenched your hands away, gripping them in a lock as he now pushed in deeper, deeper, going knuckle deep, finding the spots that make you shake, make you quiver.

“Come on baby, I can feel you close, you’ve already made such a huge mess around my face and hands, go ahead and cum.” with that Steven’s mouth was back on you as you hurtle past your pleasure, pussy tightly clenching around his fingers as Steven lapped up all of your spend before it could wet the bed beneath you.

He slowly massaged your tit as you came down from your high, twitching slightly as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of you and giving you a show that you didn’t know you needed.

You look up at Steven when he was done, your eyes big and wide as a question sits on your tongue. Steven nodded and your eyes dropped to the tent between his legs.

"Can I touch?" you ask softly, keeping yourself from palming him through his sweats.

"Touch what, darling?" Steven asked, making your face heat up again.

“Your cock, Steven, please.” you decided to say please anyway, before he had any forethought to tease you any longer.

Steven flops down beside you and gestures at his crotch and you take it as a sign to undress him. You tug his sweats down along with his boxers and his cock pops out slapping against his abdomen. You lick your lips and grab ahold of him, feeling him in your hands. You kneel next to him and spit on your hand, taking his cock and starting to pump him up and down as his head lolled back onto the pillow.

You take the tip in your mouth, just sucking on it gently. You let your tongue drag over it, smearing pre cum all over the tip as your hand continues to slowly pump him up and down. Suddenly your mouth is around him and you start sucking, driven by the noises that Steven started making. His hand was soon in your hair as he involuntarily started pushing you to take more and more of him and you obliged, swallowing around him as his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Gods, I didn’t know your mouth could work like this. If I knew earlier, I could use my cock to shut you up whenever I please.” Steven moans and you rolled your eyes and licked the underside of his shaft, making his cock twitch.

Soon, you had him properly squirming against you as you bounced your head up and down his shaft. His hands were suddenly at the back of your head as he pulled you off him, spit trailing from your mouth to his dick as you took big gulps of air.

“Need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he gently takes your arms and pulls you towards him for a bruising kiss.

You straddled him, settling your pussy against his spit soaked cock, making him moan against your lips. You pulled away to watch his facial expression as he moved his cock to prod at your entrance. You sunk down slowly and Steven watched as your cunt swallowed him up whole, tipping his head back again as the both of you hissed from the fullness. You folded your legs behind Steven and he nestled his head against your bare breasts, inhaling your scent. He pushed himself slightly forward so that he would have enough space to fuck up into your cunt.

And that's what he did.

With small shallow strokes, Steven began to thrust up into your warm cunt, moaning at your tightness and feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of you around him. It was true, he’d wanted you ever since he laid eyes on you. He thought you were the most fascinating human beings he had ever met and loved the passion that flowed through you. But you were one smart cookie, beating him in every test, acing everything that made you triumphantly yell at his face.

Sure, he wanted you to fall back a little bit and he taught himself how to gain control over you. One day, that control came upon him in the form of one of your books. He wasn’t surprised that you would read something like this, his mouth forming into a grin as the evil thoughts began to fill his mind. He jotted them down in your book and one morning, decided that it would be a good idea to deliver the book to you, setting it down at your front door and walking away quickly.

How you didn’t notice his handwriting for weeks absolutely baffled him. He knew you were smarter than that and suddenly he realised that he’d indirectly gotten you in a chokehold. You were frantic, searching around, trying to find the person who had an iron grip around you when the person was right beside you. Part of him felt guilty when your grades started dropping and he really was going to teach you today, but your mind was clearly elsewhere.

He snapped his hips against your ass a little harder, your face buried in his curls, moaning into his scalp. He tilted his own head up and kissed a soft spot at the bottom of your chin, making you giggle slightly. It was incredibly intimate, being in this position with Steven, but you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was doing this for his own benefit. Steven could feel your breathing change and he stopped, bringing himself to your eye level as the both of you panting softly, breathing in each other’s air from the close proximity.

“Love?”

“Do you really want me, Steven, or are you just doing this to have a one up on me?” you say, trying to find a comfortable position as Steven was buried in you up to the hilt.

Guilt began to pour over Steven’s head and he sighed, pushing your hair away from your face and taking a good look at you.

“I really want you, darling. I know my methods are questionable, but oh, I wanted you and still want you so bad.” he said, cupping your face in his hands.

“I’m still mad at you Steven, for making my grades drop .” you stay sternly, combing your hands through his unruly locks and dragging them to his face, tracing all of its sharp edges as his eyes flutter close.

You couldn’t help but smile at the man before you and his words truly did turn you on. They were etched deep into your mind as you read them over and over whilst your hand was between your legs, trying hard to picture the person who had spilled all of their sins onto the pages of the books. Now you had your picture in front of you and the picture was beautiful.

“But I can’t help but want you too.�� you whispered and his worried face morphed to one of pure bliss as he relaxed, leaning his forehead against yours.

“So, you’re going to have to make it up to me by fucking me like you promised in your writings. Okay?” you whisper against his soft breaths and he chuckled as his cock throbbed impatiently inside of you, causing you to moan.

Steven immediately flipped you over and claimed your lips with his again, drawing his hips back and slamming into you with so much force that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He began to thrust in and out with his own rhythm picking up speed. A calm, deep growl, and soft grunt filled your ears with each increasingly deep thrust inside you as Steven quite literally started railing you into the bed.

Your cunt spasmed around his length and a primal craving snapped inside of Steven as his thrust became more and more powerful. He took in deep breaths, becoming high on your pheromones as you moaned his name over and over, until it started to sound like garbled garbage. He loved the way his cock stretched you out and he loved the way you were taking all of him, your whimpers spurring him on as he watched your tits jiggle.

He grabbed your legs and folded you over, the new angle making you sob at how intense the pleasure was. Steven pushed himself against you and the sting you felt throughout your body as well as the constant thrust of Steven’s cock pushed you over the edge again with the help of his thumb at your clit. You came, squeezing Steven as tight as you possibly could. Steven felt himself collapse against you as he could only roll his hips and grind against you, your pussy sucking him in and keeping him there as he tried to help you ride out your high.

Steven finally let himself relax as he used you for his own release, fighting against the muscles of your pussy as his cock twitched intensely. He pulled out of you and slammed into you a few more times, before releasing his own pent up spend into you, painting your walls with his seed as he rode out his own high.

Steven let go of your legs and slumped against you, his whole body going absolutely limp from fucking you like a mad man. You pressed a small kiss on his temple and whispered a thank you into his ear as he floated back down to earth, his head pounding from the intensity of his release.

“I’ve got more books, if you want to ruin them with your filth.” you said softly, earning a chuckle from Steven.

“Only if you focus and let me teach you, love.”

“Yada yada, fine, Professor Grant.” you say jokingly, but gulped when you felt Steven hardening inside you again.

“Hmm, looks like someone wants round two.”

You were definitely done for now.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @melodygatesauthor @romanarose

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supernaturalscribe67 · 8 months

Text

Sucker

Words: 6,602

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (had to tell Dean to shut the fuck up a couple times), brotherly bickering

Summary: The reader is introduced to Gabriel, the famous trickster/archangel, for the first time, much to his brothers' dismay. What the reader didn't expect from their first meeting was to meet a rather handsome man with smooth talk to match. What happens when he starts to get feelings for the person that annoys Sam and Dean the most?

Request:

Do you write for Gabriel as well? If so, could you write something about maybe the reader being Dean and Sam's younger brother (the relationship was really cute in "aginst the grain" and "lucky", i'd also love ftm reader, but it's up to you if you want to make it specific or not) and Gabriel finally meets him, making the other two go kinda protective over that, it's Gabriel after all, he has messed with them a lot in the past. They'd probably go especially uneasy if Gabriel gets kinda flirty or if so does the reader.

Anonymous

A/N: Someone take my computer away from me. Once I start writing, I can't stop. This wasn't supposed to be that long but holy Hell, I guess it's this long. I hope I did your request justice and I hope I wrote Gabriel well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love!

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(Y/N) loved having the first shower after a hunt.

The water was always hot, the perfect relaxer for his muscles that would undoubtedly ache the next day. Despite how long he had been hunting, certain aspects of the job made him feel like a rookie. Salt and burns were one example. That night, he had been tasked with helping Dean dig out the grave while Sam kept an eye out for security and any apparitions that would make a surprise appearance. For the first thirty minutes of digging the hole, he felt alive, like a rush of adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Perhaps the idea of committing a crime was to blame for that. Near the half-hour mark, he could feel the muscles in his arms beginning to strain, but the job had to be completed.

It took two hours to dig four feet to the coffin - he cursed the dry Southern weather for making the dirt so coarse - and by the end of it, his arms fell limp and weak at his sides. His legs felt some irritation from pushing the shovel into the ground, but they weren’t nearly as affected as his upper arms. He sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the next hunt didn’t involve as much manual labor. If they did run into a ghost, he at least hoped the ghost held an attachment to an object that they could easily burn. Gravedigging was the last thing he wanted to think about.

He showered for forty-five minutes, longer than he had anticipated, but the water had placed him in an exhausted trance. Truth be told, he could have fallen asleep under the shower spray. He just hoped the cheap motel held enough warm water in their tanks for his brothers to experience some relaxation.

Motel towels were always scratchy on the surface of his skin. It was annoying, but there was some relief in knowing that the rough texture would guarantee a more thorough cleaning. Despite the cheap body wash he always snagged from the local dollar store, he never felt dirty leaving a motel bathroom. Once his body was dried, he put on his boxers and an oversized t-shirt, thankful for Walmart’s wide variety of sizes so he could conceal his chest. He placed both hands on either side of the sink, staring into the steam-covered mirror. He reached up, drew a small smiley face in the center of it, and watched as the eyes and mouth dripped. The warmth of the small room was comforting, and he was finding it difficult to leave.

A loud knock rapped on the door. “You gonna spend any more time in there? If I take a cold shower, I swear to God,” Dean’s voice came in muffled through the wooden door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t get your pretty silk panties in a twist,” he grumbled, and he could practically feel his brother’s eye roll through the door.

A sigh passed his lips as he looked at the smiley face he had drawn, which looked as if it had melted away in the hot sun. He reached a hand up and wiped the remnants of the picture away. As he retracted his hand, he could see his reflection in the opaque glass. Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes, a side effect from hunting. The endless, restless nights seemed to be getting to him and aged him more than he would have liked. He groaned as he straightened up, brought a hand up to his face, and ran his fingers over his eyes, nose, and cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, instead of staring into a reflection that mirrored his presence, to his left, behind his shoulder, stood a man. Time froze. A playful smirk appeared on the man’s lips. He was short - compared to Sam and Dean, at least - with dark brown hair swept back neatly against his head. Stubble was placed along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. His sideburns were shaped with a slight point on the end of them, facing outward. He had a button-up shirt on, the top two buttons were undone to expose a small puff of his chest hair, and a dark green jacket.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he stared at the man in the mirror. The air became heavy. He could feel his presence behind him, but he wouldn’t dare turn around.

“So, you’re the famous baby Winchester?” The man raised a brow.

His voice startled (Y/N). He turned around quickly and came face to face with the stranger.

“I’m a little surprised,” the man scratched his head. “I would have thought that you would look, you know, more like your brothers.”

(Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape. The fear bubbled inside of his gut. He had no weapons on him, yet the man didn’t seem like a threat. Nonetheless, there was a strange man in the motel bathroom with him. One who just appeared out of thin air. That was cause enough for alarm. His eyes glanced towards the closed bathroom door.

The man looked at the door and then back at (Y/N). “Oh, please don’t scream.”

“Sam! Dean!” (Y/N) shouted as he rushed to the door.

The man groaned and rubbed his temples. In the same instant that (Y/N) got the door open, the man vanished. (Y/N) stumbled out of the bathroom and into his eldest brother’s arms. Dean staggered, his back pressed against the wall. Sam stood next to them, a look of worry crossing his face.

“What happened? What happened?” Dean asked with alarm in his voice.

“There’s a guy! He-he,” (Y/N) turned to look behind him, a hand lifted to point in the direction of the bathroom, but stopped himself from talking once he saw that the man was gone.

Dean looked into the bathroom, brows furrowed. He and Sam stepped away from (Y/N) and toward the open door. Dean glanced inside, checking behind the door and in the shower. Dean threw his hands up.

“What guy?” He asked. “There’s no guy here, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Dean placed his hand over his chest as he walked out of the bathroom.

“There was a guy! He just appeared behind me!” (Y/N) said.

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Sam asked, doing a sweep of the bathroom from the doorway. “It doesn’t look like anyone besides you has been in here. There aren’t any windows, so no one could have gotten in. Are you sure you’re not just tired?”

“I saw him!”

“Sure you did, kid,” Dean walked up to him and clapped his shoulder. “Maybe you should lay off the horror movies for a while.”

“Now, that’s not very nice, Dean-O. No need to tease him like that,” the voice appeared in the center of the room.

All heads turned toward the sound of the voice. The man, who had been in the bathroom with (Y/N), stood in the center of the room. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier was ever-present. (Y/N) grabbed Dean’s arm and moved closer to him. He pointed frantically at the stranger.

“That’s him! He was in the bathroom!”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel raised his arms in a presentation-type pose. “The one and only.”

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, his tone more irritated than anything.

“Gabriel? As in, the archangel Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked his tense shoulders slouching as his body relaxed.

“Again: the one and only,” Gabriel smiled. “And, to answer your question, Dean, a little birdy told me that you were in town, so I figured I would stop by, and see my favorite Winchesters. Heard the youngest was here, and I thought it was about time we met. Although, I heard that you had a younger sister. Must’ve been a mistake.”

“Yeah, that’s a mistake alright.” Dean placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, you came in, you saw us, now can you please leave?”

“Woah, woah, what happened to hospitality? Why don’t you introduce me to your brother, here?” Gabriel sauntered over towards the three of them.

“No, now get out.”

“Not until an introduction is made.”

“Gabriel, we just got off of a hunt. We need some rest, now can you please leave?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Come on, guys, it’ll get him out of here so we can go to sleep,” (Y/N) mumbled before he turned to Gabriel. He held out a hand. “(Y/N) Winchester,”

“(Y/N),” he said the name as if testing it on his tongue. He reached out, grasped (Y/N)’s hand gently in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave a small kiss on the back of it. “Gabriel. Nice to finally meet you.”

(Y/N) raised his brows, his cheeks heating up with blush. Dean rolled his eyes and swatted Gabriel’s hand away from (Y/N).

“Alright, alright, none of that,” Dean grumbled, sending a death glare toward Gabriel. “You know his name, now get out.”

Gabriel ignored him, his eyes stuck on (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), aside from being good-looking, what do you do in your free time?”

Dean and Sam both groaned and rolled their eyes, shaking their heads. (Y/N) felt his chest warm up the same as his face. He glanced down and fiddled with his fingers. Gabriel licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” He questioned.

“Well, I’m trying to think of something to say, but all I can think about is how cute you are.”

Gabriel looked at him, amused shock crossing his face. He straightened up for a minute, but, before he could say anything, Dean held his hands up.

“That’s enough,” Dean interjected, glancing at (Y/N) and then at Gabriel. “Leave.”

“But I’m having such a nice conversation,”

“Gabriel,” Sam spoke up, moving between (Y/N) and Gabriel, towering over him. His voice was low, intimidating. “Go.”

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in front of the brothers. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave,” Gabriel’s voice came from behind the trio.

They all turned around. Gabriel stood right before (Y/N), eyes attached to him. He reached behind his back for a brief moment and pulled it back around. In his hand was a red rose with a short stem, free of prickles. He held it out.

“A parting gift, for you.”

(Y/N) hesitantly took him, a small smile on his face. “Thank you,”

Gabriel shrugged. “I know it’s not as beautiful as you, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“Gabriel,” Dean warned.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Gabriel shook his head. “I hope to see you again soon, sweetheart,” He pointed at (Y/N).

“We’ll see.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room.

The room was quiet aside from the faint humming of the cheap air conditioner. (Y/N) studied the rose that Gabriel had given him. It appeared freshly in bloom, the red petals curled at the ends, the floral scent evident even from a distance. The stem was slightly wet from being cut. (Y/N) brought the flower to his nose and inhaled the intoxicating smell as he turned around to face his brothers. When he looked up, he immediately noticed the ‘if looks could kill’ gaze in their eyes.

“What?” (Y/N) asked and shrugged.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“You know,” Dean began. “I’ve stopped butting in when you flirt with someone at a bar, or when you want to take someone back to a motel. I’ve learned to shut my mouth. But Gabriel?”

“Geez, you two are acting like I’ve slept with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, brushing past them as he walked toward his bed.

“Ooo, all I can think about is how cute you are,” Dean mocked.

“Will you shut up!?”

“He’s an archangel, (Y/N).” Sam nodded. “And you see no problem with flirting with him?”

“What? I can’t flirt with who I want now? It’s not like he’s a bad guy…technically.”

Dean sighed. “He’s off limits, (Y/N).”

“I’m an adult, Dean! I can flirt with whoever I want.”

“Not an angel! I mean…come on. Don’t you remember what he did to us? To Sammy and me?”

“Look, Dean, I get it, trust me, but it was just some comments, okay? Like I said, it’s not like I hooked up with him or anything. He just flirted with me so I flirted back. Took a page out of my Dean Winchester book of flirting.” (Y/N) walked over to the bed and sat down on the side of it. “You don’t have to worry about him, okay? Now, why don’t you guys just take your showers so we can go to bed and head out in the morning.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He let out a huff as he turned to look at Sam. They stared at each other, but said nothing, as if they were talking to one another telepathically. Finally, Dean shook his head.

“Fine, but I get the next shower,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the duffel bag that sat beside the queen-sized bed opposite (Y/N).

“Dean, I called the next shower,” Sam frowned.

“Too bad, can’t get next shower if I get there first,”

Sam glanced at the door to the bathroom, his duffel bag which sat at the table, and then Dean. Dean grabbed his night clothes from his bag and began to make his way over to the bathroom. Quickly, Sam rushed to the bathroom. Dean picked up his speed and the two of them wrestled in the doorway for a moment, mumbling to one another. Sam eventually pushed Dean out of the way and slammed the door shut, the cheap wood vibrating against the frame. Dean growled.

“How the Hell are you going to get out of there without your clothes, bitch?” He called through the door.

“I’ll figure it out, jerk,” Sam’s muffled voice replied.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before he sauntered over to his bed and slouched on the edge of it. “Can you believe him?” He gestured to the door dramatically.

(Y/N) snorted. “I think you’re both idiots,” he reached down and pulled the comforter away from his body, pushing his legs underneath. “Now hush while I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Dean grumbled.

“Goodnight, Dean,”

*~*

The rumble of the Impala’s engine was silenced over the deafening sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”. Dean sang in an off-key tune as he drove, Sam tried to ignore him in the passenger’s seat, and (Y/N) blocked everything out, deep in thought as he leaned against the back passenger’s window. He was staring off into the distance, at the long line of trees and bushes they passed, but none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking about Gabriel.

It had been a week since their interaction, and, for the life of him, he couldn’t keep the angel out of his mind. He never had someone who showed as much interest in him as Gabriel, and (Y/N) hadn’t lied. Gabriel was pretty cute. Was it the way the smirk seemed permanently etched on his lips? Perhaps the way his flirtatious remarks flowed out as smoothly as they did. Maybe it was in the look in his eye when he asked to see him again.

Regardless, there seemed to be nothing that could take Gabriel off of his mind.

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s boisterous voice echoed through the car.

(Y/N) jerked his head up to look at his brother in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t even noticed the music had been turned down, now softly playing in the background.

“What?”

“Man, I’ve called your name about ten times. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, just…thinking.”

“Yeah, I know that takes a lot out of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” (Y/N) scrunched his nose as he reached over and lightly kicked the back of Dean’s seat.

“Hey! Be nice to Baby! She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah, well, she was caught in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Sam’s pretty sure we have another ghost case.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Another one?”

“Yeah, just a simple salt and burn.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently this young couple, who just bought their house, has been reporting paranormal activity at their place. The husband’s mother even came to stay with them for a little while and, while she was there, she claimed that someone pushed her down the stairs when she was going to do laundry in the basement.”

“So? Her son tried to kill her to get the life insurance money. Doesn’t sound like a ghost hunt to me.” (Y/N) said.

“Husband was at work, and so was the wife. They even have alibis and security footage to prove it.”

“Okay, so then the mother’s old and cryptic and just fell down the stairs. Old people fall down the stairs every day, that’s why Life Alert was invented.”

“She’s forty-two.”

“Jesus, how old is her son?”

“Twenty-one. His wife is twenty. High-school sweethearts according to what the newspaper says.”

“Gross.” There was a pause. “I still don’t think it sounds like our thing. Maybe we should check something else out.”

“You’re not getting out of the salt and burn, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) groaned and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed lazily over his chest. “Fine! But I’m not doing the digging. I’ll be on guard duty.”

“No,” Dean said. “I’m going to be on guard duty this time.”

“Why?” He whined childishly.

“Because I helped dig the grave the last two times. We take shifts, remember?”

(Y/N) shook his head. He placed his elbow on the window sill and put his cheek into the palm of his right hand. His forehead leaned against the glass.

He thought back to Gabriel. The carefree attitude he seemed to have, even with the intimidating act that his brothers put on. He was an archangel, of course. Thinking about it, (Y/N) knew that Gabriel could do anything with them - he had proven that when he forced Sam and Dean into the TV universe - yet he did nothing of the sort, even when Dean had slapped his hand away from (Y/N). He seemed like a good person - angel? - and (Y/N) would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again. He knew that if anyone could lighten his mood from the sour situation they were driving to, it would be Gabriel.

An arm slowly snaked its way around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He jumped, eyes wide as he turned his head to the side. Sitting next to him, in the back of the Impala, was Gabriel, the same smirk on his face that was present the first night they met.

“Heard someone needed some company,” Gabriel said.

Dean visibly jerked, his hand turning the wheel of the car violently. The Impala lurched to the side, into the oncoming lane, before he corrected himself and straightened the car out. Everyone shifted in their seats with the movement. Dean slammed on the brakes, the rubber screeching against the road as the car halted. Dean and Sam’s heads whipped around, their eyes wide with surprise. Gabriel was leaning back against the leather seats, legs slightly spread, one arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders while the other rested at his side. (Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest from a mixture of the sudden movement of the car and Gabriel’s touch.

“Woah, Dean-O. Gotta be careful. You’re lucky there’s no traffic,” Gabriel chuckled.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“A little birdy told me he was lonely. A little stressed,” Gabriel turned his head to look at (Y/N). He leaned closer to him. “Miss me already?”

Dean and Sam’s eyes shifted to their brother. (Y/N) felt the familiar heat appear in his cheeks and spread to his ears. Sam furrowed his brows.

“You prayed to him?” He asked.

“N-No! I didn’t!” (Y/N) defended.

“Wrong,” Gabriel hummed. “You know, every time you say my name in that pretty little head of yours, it comes straight to me,” Gabriel reached over and tapped on (Y/N)’s temple gently. “My prayer line has been buzzing nonstop since I last saw you.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks darkened even more. Gabriel had practically outed him to his brothers, completely contradicting what he had told them back at the motel. That they didn’t need to worry about him. That the flirty comments he made was a natural response. Now his brothers know that Gabriel had been on his mind. Now they knew that they had something to worry about.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to clear his mind. When he opened his eyes, he pointed at his brother.

“You. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Gabriel. “You. Get out.”

“Aw, come on, Dean, let me ride for a little bit. Make your brother feel better,” Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s arm.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No. Get out.” His voice was deep, dark.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go. Again.”

“Good,” Dean turned around eyes back to the empty road in front of him. His hands returned to the wheel, clenched tight enough to make his knuckles a ghostly white.

Gabriel glanced at (Y/N) with an apologetic expression before he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his clenched hand and held it towards him. As he opened his hand, (Y/N) could see a small candy heart in the middle of it, colored pink. In the center of the heart Be Mine was printed.

“Another parting gift. A sweetheart for a sweetheart.” Gabriel smirked.

(Y/N) smiled and took the heart. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sugar.”

“Leave Gabriel,” Dean bellowed.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbled. He looked back at (Y/N) and winked. “I’ll see you later.”

He snapped and, once more, he was gone.

(Y/N) glanced down towards the candy. It was one of those cheap candies that you got from Walmart when you wanted to give something out to your classmates for Valentine’s Day. Despite the cheap appearance, the message on it was worth more than anything. It validated any emotions that he had for Gabriel. The mere idea that Gabriel felt the same way as he did made his heart soar, the butterflies swarming inside of his stomach. With a small smile, he closed his hand around the heart and placed his hand in his lap.

It was then that he noticed they hadn’t resumed their drive yet. He looked in the front seat to see both of his brothers staring at them, unamused expressions on their faces. The smile (Y/N) had turned into an awkward grin, his shoulders tensed. Sam and Dean looked at one another and conversed in that telepathic communication that they always do before they wordlessly turned back to the road. Dean glanced one more time in the rear-view mirror, shook his head, and then started down the road again.

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped and he turned to the window. He placed his elbow on the window sill and his cheek in the palm of his hand.

It was going to be a long night.

*~*

I fucking hate ghosts.

His muscles hurt worse than last time. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his arms felt as if they were going to fall off. His calves ached a bit, but not nearly as bad as his biceps.

The hunt took longer than expected - most of the graves in the cemetery they had gone to were unmarked, souls long since forgotten by the people who had buried them. The records in the cemetery’s office weren’t much help, either. The three of them spent two hours trying to find the grave that belonged to the ghost, two more hours digging up the plot with major pushback from the spirit, and an extra hour attempting to leave the cemetery without getting caught - apparently, grave robbers were a common occurrence in that small Maryland town.

Even the morning after, (Y/N)’s entire body ached and was stiff. It felt like every part of him had been put through a meat grinder. When he moved, his muscles tensed and burned as if he were on the surface of a thousand suns. His brothers felt bad for him, in a way. They could see how hurt he was and decided to let him rest while they went out to get some breakfast, some greasy diner food that all of them, even Sam, desperately needed.

As (Y/N) lay in his bed, still clad in his sleepwear from the night before, to ignore the aches and pain, his mind shifted to a familiar thought; Gabriel.

The same thoughts that had been invading his mind for the past two weeks entered his head seamlessly. The thoughts of Gabriel’s words, his flirtatious tone, the way his hair was swept back, the way the corner of his lips curled into a smirk whenever he would look at him, and the glimmer that danced in his irises. While Gabriel took up most of his mind, another thing that (Y/N) couldn’t get out of his mind was Sam and Dean. He thought about their disapproving gazes, the irritation in their tone as they talked to or about Gabriel, and the shake of their heads when Gabriel finally vanished.

His brothers weren’t shy when it came to their objections. When they had gotten into town for the hunt, Sam and Dean made sure to speak out about the situation. (Y/N) felt as if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean was the one that was mostly vocal with Sam taking a back seat and butting in now and then. While (Y/N) could appreciate that his brothers were looking out for him, he stood strong on the fact that he was an adult. He could make his own decisions. Gabriel was an angel. It wasn’t as if he was flirting with a demon. He knew his brothers would have a conniption if it was Crowley instead of Gabriel. Still, (Y/N) was their little brother. He had a feeling that they were going to be protective no matter who he showed interest in.

That wouldn’t stop him from trying to pursue Gabriel, though.

In the two instances they met, Sam and Dean had been in the room with them when they talked, leaving little to no time for them to have an actual conversation or get to know one another. Granted, Gabriel must know more about him than anything, considering the lack of privacy he had in his head. That only gave him more of an incentive to learn everything he could about the archangel.

He had to talk to Gabriel alone.

(Y/N) had never prayed before. He always left his brothers to the praying when they needed Castiel involved. It was a new experience, and he didn’t even know how to start.

Slowly, (Y/N) adjusted himself on the bed so that his back was pressed against the wooden headboard. He placed his hands in his lap, slightly folded.

“Um…Gabriel…” he trailed as he tried to think of how he could continue. “Uh…it’s me. (Y/N). I think we need to talk.”

“You know, the last time someone said that to me, it didn’t end well,” Gabriel’s voice came from in front of him, near the end of the bed.

(Y/N) let out an audible gasp, startled. His throbbing muscles tensed for a moment before they relaxed, a shot of pain coursing through his body.

“Jesus, we need to put a bell on you angels,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think it’ll look good on me?” Gabriel pursed his lips and dramatically posed.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head as he chuckled. Gabriel joined him and walked over to the bed, sitting down. The bed dipped.

“I can see your bodyguards aren’t here.”

“Yeah, they went out to get some breakfast a bit ago.”

“Well, that’s good. Now I can talk to you without getting kicked out. What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“Well-”

“My handsome good looks?” Gabriel smirked.

“Uh-”

“How about my smooth talking?”

“Gabriel-”

“What about the way you get butterflies in your stomach when you’re near me?” Gabriel placed a hand on the bed and leaned closer to him.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks heat up once again. The butterflies Gabriel referenced swarmed. He looked away for a moment before his eyes shifted down towards his hands in his lap.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?” He moved his eyes to him.

Gabriel seemed surprised by the question at first, straightening himself up.

“I mean…” (Y/N) paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. “You flirted with me back at the other motel, you had your arm wrapped around me in the car, you’ve been listening to my thoughts, er, prayers, I guess. Is this just…a flirty little thing that you like to do or…are you really interested in me?”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel shrugged. “I mean, you don’t see me flirting with your brothers, do you?”

“No.”

“Casual flirting isn’t normally my thing. When I flirt with someone, I really, really like them, and I really, really like you.” His voice was deep and smooth like velvet.

(Y/N) smiled, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face, despite the bashful need to do so. “Well, I hope it helps that I really, really like you, too.”

“Oh, trust me, I can tell,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Gabriel chuckled as he reached over, his hand gently caressing his cheek. Their lips connected without another comment. (Y/N) closed his eyes and, almost immediately, melted into the kiss. He could feel a warm, tingling sensation course through his body, touching down his arms, torso, and legs. Their lips moved in sync. (Y/N) raised his hands, his fingers entangled in Gabriel’s silky hair.

(Y/N) pulled away before he wanted to, the need for air overwhelming. He stared deep into Gabriel’s whiskey eyes. It didn’t take long before that smirk reappeared. (Y/N)’s thumb gently brushed over Gabriel’s scruff.

“Your kiss is even sweeter than you are,” (Y/N) spoke in a soft tone.

“Oh, please, nothing is sweeter than me,”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.”

Gabriel leaned in and kissed him once more. He moved onto the bed so that his legs were on either side of (Y/N)’s body and he hovered over him. (Y/N) took the time to wrap his arms around Gabriel’s neck gently. They tilted their heads to the side, deepening the kiss.

(Y/N) had his fair share of kisses before, a handful of them drunken mishaps at various bars across the country, but never like the one he had with Gabriel. There was something special about it. Something that made him melt into the bed. That attracted him further to Gabriel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t going to fight it.

Although, someone might.

The door to the motel room opened. The stench of cheap breakfast food wafted into the small space as Sam and Dean entered. They froze for a moment, eyes wide in shock at what they had walked in on. It didn’t take long for them to break the trance.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as he rushed over to the two of them.

Just as they broke the kiss, Dean grabbed the back of Gabriel’s shirt, pulled him off of the bed, and pinned him against the wall. The cheap lights flickered at the force of the impact.

“Dean!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he quickly stood from the bed.

Before he could pull his brother away, Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and wrapped his arms around him protectively.

“What did I tell you about leaving my brother alone, huh?” Dean slammed Gabriel against the wall again, though he seemed completely unphased by it.

“Now, Dean, if you haven’t noticed, your brother is more than capable of making his own choices.” Gabriel’s voice was calm, almost playful.

“Yeah, with humans. Not with you.”

“Now what have I ever done to you, Dean?”

“What have you done?” Dean let out a dry laugh. “What have you done?”

“Dean! Stop! You’re gonna get the fucking cops called on us!” (Y/N) hissed between clenched teeth.

“And you!” Dean let go of Gabriel’s shirt and turned around to face (Y/N). “What happened to ‘oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Dean, it was just for fun’,” he mocked (Y/N)’s voice harshly. “And then Sam and I come in and see you sucking face with an archangel!?”

“First of all,” (Y/N) wiggled his arms out from Sam’s grasp. “Get off me,” he mumbled and pushed firmly on Sam’s chest. Sam’s feet were firmly planted, but he removed his arms from around his brother. (Y/N) backed up a couple of steps and brushed his shirt off. “I told you, Dean, I’m an adult and I can make your own decisions! And who the Hell says ‘sucking face’ anymore, anyway? What is this? 1980?”

“The point is, you told us you weren’t going to do anything and here you are…doing something!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Dean’s right, (Y/N),” Sam shook his head. “You know, we support you in everything that you do, but Gabriel?”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Gabriel appeared behind (Y/N).

“Good, I hope you do,” Dean said.

(Y/N) groaned. “You guys are acting like you walked in on me having sex with him or something! It was a kiss!”

“His tongue was in your mouth, (Y/N),” Dean spoke with a hint of disgust.

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!”

“Alright, alright, hey,” Sam held up his hands. “Look. All we want to do is look out for you, okay? It’s our job to protect you.”

“And I want you guys to keep protecting me,” (Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to. I like Gabriel, okay? I really do. And it’s not just some hook-up in-a-bar kind of feeling. It’s feelings-feelings. You know? The things we never talk about? I can’t explain it, but I feel…a connection to him. Like Dean feels with Castiel.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. I don’t feel that way with Cas.”

“Dean, we all know you do,” Gabriel spoke up, shaking his head.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t wanna hear another word out of you.”

“Look,” Gabriel began. “I’d never do anything to hurt your brother. I know I haven’t been the, well, nicest with you two. But I like (Y/N),” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d like to get to know him more, and I know that he would like to do the same.”

Sam and Dean stared at Gabriel, their eyes piercing. They never blinked, as if studying him. Sam leaned over to Dean.

“Dean, I think he’s telling the truth,” Sam spoke in a low voice.

Dean looked at Sam with furrowed brows. “Really?” His tone was defensive. “How do you know he’s not lying?”

“Dean, (Y/N) is right about the fact that he’s an adult, okay? Maybe we should just…take a backseat on this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I hate this just as much as you do, Dean, but you know that even if we disagree with is, (Y/N) is just going to find a way to see him anyway.”

“Not if we handcuff him to one of us,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m right here,” (Y/N) crossed his arms.

“The point is,” Sam said. “If Gabriel is serious, what better person besides us to protect him than an archangel? I mean, we have Cas, yes, but Cas isn’t an archangel.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but was having a hard time coming up with an argument to shoot back at his brother’s statement. Instead, he sighed as he reached a hand up and ran it down his face. He could feel a headache coming on. Silence flooded the room as the four of them stood there.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I won’t say anything about Gabriel coming around. But I don’t wanna walk in on anymore face sucking.”

“No face sucking or any other kind of sucking while sharing a room, got it.” (Y/N) smiled.

Dean shot him a look of disgust before he turned to Gabriel. “And you. If you hurt him-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fire and brimstone and pitchforks and torches. You’ll have the whole Winchester Army after me,” Gabriel waved his hands around dramatically. “I get it. You have my word that I will never hurt your brother.”

“Alright, now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Gabriel turned to (Y/N). He reached down, grabbed his hand, and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, sugarplum.”

(Y/N) snorted. “See you later, Casanova.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and vanished.

With a smile still on his face, (Y/N) turned to his brothers. “Thank you guys, really.”

“Well, we trust you, (Y/N),” Sam said. “We don’t trust him, but we trust you. And we trust that, if anything were to happen, you would come to us if you need help.”

“Of course I will. You’re my brothers. I make a mess, you guys clean it up.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’ll be the reason why I get gray hairs early in life,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the small table near the motel door, opening the bag of breakfast food which was probably cold by then.

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he walked over to him. “Oh, you mean, these gray hairs?” He reached up and brushed the back of his brother’s hairline, finger gliding through the sandy blonde hair.

Dean reached back quickly and cupped the back of his head. “What!?” He exclaimed.

Sam snorted and (Y/N) let out a boisterous laugh. Dean’s jaw clenched as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I thought so, old man.”

“You better watch it, bitch,”

“Aw, I love you, too, Dean,” (Y/N) wrapped a single arm loosely around Dean’s middle. He then motioned Sam over. When Sam was close enough, (Y/N) wrapped his other arm around him. “And I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” Sam smiled and returned the hug.

Dean looked down at his brother and mumbled something under his breath before he patted him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid.”

“I couldn’t ask for better brothers than you.”

…

“Alright, enough of the chick-flick moments. Let’s eat.”

82 notes · View notes

harus-simp · 1 year

Text

Gunwook as a boyfriend

-Gunwook x reader-

Warning:none

Requested: Henloou!! I really like your writing but I realized there’s not many gunwook content :( can you write a headcanon of him as a boyfie or something fluffy?? (Anonymous)

Author's note: sorry for the long wait anon, I hope you really like it ;))

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How would gunwook act as your boyfriend?

Okay our gunwookie pookie will be the sweetest boyfriend ever I assure you

Your first meeting would be at school

You were a new transferred student so when you got to the gates you were kinda lost on where to go

As he was walking through the entrance he saw a student that seemed to not have a clue on where to go, so you figured out you weren't from there

So he approached you confidently wanting to help you

"Excuse me,are you lost?"

"Ah yes actually, do you perhaps know where class 1A is?"

And he indeed knew where it was, he was part of it

So he guided you there asking about you (he found you really cute, but he wasn't gonna say that 🤭)

After classes he offered to give you a tour around school as he was part of the school council and was actively participating in a couple of clubs and associations

You thought it was really kind of him to do so

So you exchanged numbers and become friends :D

At first some classmates found it quite strange because he was kinda intimidating at first, and meeting you was the first time he approached someone so brightly

You heard about gunwook's first impression according to your peers, and was totally shocked to hear he coukd appear to be like that

Like he treated you so well?

Anyways

After a couple of months you were having an internal conflict

You had started to develop feelings for him after one day you were staring at him in class

You started to notice little things in him like his soft silky hair

His warm and gummy smile

His soft plump lips-

Wait wait wait

Hold on there cowboy 🤠

And now you were wondering how to properly confess to him :))

So you decided that it was best to write a letter and leave it on his desk

When gunwook received it let's say he didn't even open it 💀

He was so hopelessly in love with you that he didn't want to focus on anything else

So next day when you saw him treating you the same way you were confused

Was he rejecting you?

So you questioned him

"Umh, wookie, did you read my letter?"

"What lette-?Oh" yeah he definitely had fucked up

"Oh?"

"I didn't open it"

Now you were disappointed, you laughed awkwardly and started to excuse yourself

But he stopped you grabbing your wrist

So at his action you encouraged yourself internally and confessed to him, to which he accepted gladly bringing you into a hug

His favourite dates were walking through the park or going to the countryside

He enjoyed the feeling of walking with your hands interwined tightly, or sitting on a bench eating ice cream

You had this plushie that he had won at an arcade for you and you treated him as your child

You brought him literally everywhere and you both swayed it from side to side

He loved to shower you in compliments, words of affirmation was his love language so it was not a surprise

He expects you reciprocate his energy once in a while

Which you did of course

You told him how talented he was and how an amazing boyfriend he was

You don't need anything else to make him happy and all blushy and smiley 😁

He is a hugeeee baby

So he'd get all happy and excited when you get cold, throwing you one of his hoodies to wear

That sight was enough to make him whine at how adorable you were

He also loved hugging you, his bear hugs bringing you to another level of comfort

Laying his head on your lap was part of his daily routine

You caressed his hair grabbing small locks and massaging his scalp in soft motions

It really helped him to calm down and not stress so much

It was a soothing moment for him

More than jealous I'd say he is really overprotective of you

He'd be your personal bodyguard for sure

He'd use his first impression intimidating privilege to scare people off 😈

And he felt so proud of it

However if you asked him to stop he would in an instant

He is a big softie, like he could talk about how good he was at being an idol

But he definitely cries when you remind him on Mufasa's death 😢

He'd be someone reliable you can count on when you want to have fun and when you want to have more of an intimate moment (like talking about your problems and difficulties)

A big baby bear 🐻🤍

°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°

#zerobaseone headcanons #zerobaseone drabbles #zerobaseone fanfics #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone reactions #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone gunwook #boys planet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet fanfics #boys planet reactions #boys planet headcanons #boys planet x reader #park gunwook #gunwook #zerobaseone #zerobase1 #zb1 #kpop

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dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Note

I love your content and all your ocs, even though Smiley got me, I loved it! 💕 I have been thinking for several days since I came across your account, what Smiley would be like with a reader who is a psychopath, a serial killer or something similar, who kills simply for any reason or perhaps to de-stress from work, and they are so clever and intelligent with their tricks?

I think it would be funny to have a scenario in which the reader has a co-worker as a target and by the time they're going to kill her, Smiley has already killed her first

or another scenario where Smiley has already "brought home" the reader and probably starts a knife fight or something

Hii! Sorry it took me so long to get to this request - I meant to do it yesterday but I wasn’t feeling well 😭

I hope this is okay!!

TW: Stalking, obsession, murder

You had it meticulously planned. You’d planned it for months. You knew their routine, who they lived with and when they’d be alone. You knew when they’d be in an obscured place. You knew where every CCTV camera was and the area they overlooked. You knew that as always, you had planned it all down to every extraneous variable, so that you could not be caught. Then, out of the left field, the notes started. You couldn’t think how to interpret them - harmless prank, or did someone know your secret and this was some strange attempt at blackmail? Either way, your plan seemed to be foiled. With the chance that this mystery person would be watching you closely, you couldn’t risk getting caught.

Your target walked by your desk, a cup of coffee in hand and a smarmy smile on their face. You curled your lip in disgust. You never usually killed so close to you, preferring to keep a far distance so it was easier to wash your hands of the guilt and evidence. But that damned coworker had it in for you. You’d seen them, choosing their words just so and framing you for their mistakes and incompetence, all so that you would get fired. And with HR offering so little help on the mystery of the anonymous notes, you knew they’d do nothing to protect you.

Thus, this smiley faced admirer had got you trapped between a rock and a hard place. You watched the clock, waiting for it to tick to closing time, just so you could go home and try to replan your whole scheme - hasty, messy work, but it was all you could do. The time ticked over and you grabbed your coat and shut down your computer, pacing quickly towards the door. That’s when you saw them - still with that smug smile. They gave you a sarcastic wave as they left, and you shook with rage. Without thinking, all your worrying and nitpicking over a plan flew out your mind, the red mist descending. You kept your distance, yet still you followed them, making sure not to lose sight as you stayed concealed from them. You followed them a long way, until they turned into an alley - one you knew wouldn’t have cameras. You reached into your pocket and gripped the knife you kept there, your heart racing, ready to let the pressure out, to let anger spew out of you like arterial blood. With a white knuckle grip, you turned the corner, but then paused, the rage from seconds before dissipating.

They laid on the ground, dead. Cut up like an animal that the butcher had done a poor job on. On top of them lied a blood stained post it. With a trembling hand, you reach down and pick it up.

“Did I do a good enough job? Now you don’t have to exert yourself. ╹◡╹”

You crumpled the note. You couldn’t even be allowed just one chance to relieve your stress.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere drabble #yandere oc x reader #yan blog #Ask #Story #Smiley

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good-oldfashioned-lover · 3 months

Note

Wtaf? You're fucking insane and I thought you were genuinely apologizing? You're crazy bitch And you're a coward for making You're friends and your stupid little girlfriend to come at me instead of handling it yourself James is such a sweet person and he is a bottom! He would never make someone beg to him like what? Stop ruining jegulus and stick to your jily for fucks sake

Bitch ok time to get rude

First of all, why tf do I even need to apologize? I have NOTHING to apologize for!?

Thank you yeah I'm crazy. All the best people are.

I'm sorry hello I'm the coward? Newsflash: you're the one hiding behind anonymous. And I'm sorry you don't have real friends who stick up for you ok? So back the fuck off my friends (also stfu that's my girl you're speaking about she is literally one of THE best people I have in life. I'll literally punch you but oh wait, you would never have the guts to do this irl)

And can you for fuck's sake stop asking to make James a fucking peice of cardboard with a smiley drawn on it? And also, did he come to you and say that he is a bottom? Cause he came to me and said that he likes fucking Regulus and hearing him whimper and be in near tears and begging as much as he likes getting fucked by him too. Sorry boo I guess you got fooled by a knockoff Jamie.

Idek which is funnier, the fact that you came back or the fact that you read tha whole thing before coming here 💀

#boohooo bitch I'll ship whoever I want #im not even gonna bother by blocking you cause this is so funny to me #come back when you can write something better honey #huh guess you'll never come back considering you can't even follow simple grammar

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itsyourstarboy · 1 year

Text

Streamer!Honey Headcanons Pt.4

First Part Next Part

It’s been over a month I’m so sorry 😭😭😭 it’s here now, and there are some things that didn’t make it into this post, but that just means more parts!

—

Guy started showing up on stream more often than he did in chat. Though, to protect his privacy, he wears sunglasses and a face mask.

Every time he seems to have a different set.

A face mask with a smiley face, or maybe it's rainbow colored, or (his favorite) a pizza pattern. Sometimes he wears one that is plain black with a small heart in the middle (honey likes to kiss the heart but not on stream ofc).

As for the glasses, I made this post talking about those ;w;

Every time he buys a new pair Honey has to go in and change out the lenses for darker ones so no one can see his eyes. They are very particular with Guy staying anonymous, they care about his safety more than they care about anything.

And unless he's willing to carry pepper spray and a pocket knife with him while he works, he is not allowed to show his face.

He loves how protective honey is, he thinks it's the cutest damn thing.

—

The first time he showed himself, he and Honey had planned it beforehand. In the middle of their stream, he knocked on the door.

Honey made a big show of faking a dramatic gasp, and saying "whoever could that be??"

They open the door, and Guy steps in like 💃💃

"Oh my god, is that the Guy??"

Guy T-poses, "it is I, The Guy."

Chat lost their shit.

MY BOY ITS HE

GUY REVEAL [NOT CLICKBAIT] *EMOTIONAL*

Oh my 😳😳

HOT DAMN

loOK AT [HONEY'S] SMILE IM FUCKING SWOONING

beautiful beutiful butiful BETTYFUL BOOOOOYYYYYY

WHY HE DANCING LIKE THAT

DAMN HE GOT CAKE

Guy had quite the ego boost after that…

—

Sometimes while sitting next to them on camera he'll slowly start to lower his face mask just so Honey will hold his face "to keep the mask on".

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Honey looks to their right to see Guy eyeing them while slowly lowering the face mask. They roll their eyes and huff, practically throwing their controller onto the desk in front of them. They take Guy's face in their hands, squishing his cheeks, and give him a hard glare.

It goes on for a few seconds, Honey's intense gaze boring through him. They lean a bit closer and their forehead presses against his, never breaking eye contact.

"Stop doing that shit," they say in a low voice that makes Guy's knees feel weak. "Please," they add quietly, and all he can do is nod.

—

The fanart increased, and this time it wasn't weird because people had more of an idea as to what Guy looked like.

Guy still thinks it's adorable, and he has taken to finding ways to share this incredible art with the world in many ways.

He likes to print out the pictures and hang them on the fridge.

He calls the people in chat his children.

Or, at least, he did until they started calling him daddy…

Now they're just his chaos squad.

—

Guy made a second Instagram account to post on without showing his face (as if he ever even posts on his personal acc)

His stories are… interesting

First there's a picture of a grasshopper he found outside with the caption "look at this dood", then you see a really blurry photo with the caption "ASGFKDGFGSJ HALP ITS EVIL".

He posts little videos of Honey 🥺

They're chilling on the couch, their legs draped over Guy's, and he turns the camera towards them with a cat face filter.

Honey makes eye contact with the camera and sticks their tongue out a little bit anD THAT LIL BLEP WITH THE DOODLE CAT EARS AND WHISKERS WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE GUY FALL IN LOVE WITH THEM ALL OVER AGAIN

Before the video cuts off you can hear him make a little gasp and the caption is "I love them"

Fans think this confirms their relationship until they see Honey's story has a video of Guy in the kitchen humming the macarena—and half ass dancing to it—while making pizza rolls with the caption "if there was a zombie apocalypse, he would die first", and it makes them think maybe not…

—

Ever since Guy's debut, he joins chat less often (much to their disappointment), but what Honey doesn't know is that this was all part of an elaborate plan cooked up by none other than their menace of a boyfriend.

He wanted to spoop them. That's a harmless little prank, right?

WRONG

Honey has the most VIOLENT reactions when they get scared, you DO NOT want to be on the receiving end.

But nooooo, Guy just wants to be a little shit.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Honey was playing The Mortuary Assistant. It's one of the few games that actually scares them from time to time, because of how unpredictable it is.

It was quiet, Honey wasn't really talking with chat. They were invested, double checking everything to make sure they were burning the right body.

Chat was basically left unsupervised, like a small child lost in the McDonald's play place.

Why do the feet have jiggle physics

✨realism✨

wouldnt the bodies be stiff tho? rick-a-morris or something?

RICK A MORRIS?!?!??!?

It's rigamortis, sweetheart

Ihatethisgameihatethisgame

EW EW NO GET THAT LIPLESS NO EYELID HAVIN ASS OFF MY SCREEN

WHY IS IT NAKED

Boy out here looking like salad fingers 🥗☝️👅👅

I’d smash ngl

Hi [Honey] <3 hope you're having a good day xoxo

That does not look like salad fingers

🌝✨rUstY💫🌚 💦🦴spOOnS🦠🥄

Baby girl got some mommy issues 😘💝😚

Lmao same 🤣😂😆

R u ok?

No :')

Can't have mommy issues if you never had a mom 😝😝

PLEASE-

Y r u joking abt this?? 😢😢

Where are the therapist people in chat?

Laughter is the best medicine ☺️☺️❤️

There they are

Alright, now everyone say 5 positive things about yourself

What if we don't?

I SAID 🔫🔫🔫 EVERYONE SAY 5 POSITIVE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF🔫🔫🔫

HoneysHeaven: hello :)

Still no

GUY

MY GUUYY

BABY BOY BABY

HELLO 👋👋👋👋👋

HE HAS RISEN

GUY

PRAISE JUGULAR

HoneysHeaven: shh 🤫

EEEE

shh?

Ooh we be sneaky now

Y shh?

HoneysHeaven: everyone keep [honey] distracted I'm gonna spook them >:)

OOOH OK OK

SHHHHH

Oops

Pranky time 😈😈😈

Spoopy scary skeletons

Go Guy Go

On camera, you can see Guy verrry carefully open the door. He sneaks in, ever so gracefully, only tripping over himself a maximum of two times.

Despite his few hiccups, he managed to get in without Honey noticing (somehow)

Y'know that meme picture of Jason Momoa sneaking up on Henry Cavill? Yeah, that's what it looks like right now.

Honey was in the middle of a sentence when Guy pounced on them.

He wrapped his arms around them from behind and went, "BOO!"

Honey yelped and swung an arm behind them.

They've never had any training, but like… they've got a pretty damn good right hook…

They punched Guy in the face.

He fell to the ground, holding his nose, and laughed out a groan in pain.

JESUS FVCKING CHRIST

NOOOOOOOO

LMFAO 🤣🤣🤣🤣

GUY NO HIS FACE IS BROKEN

I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA 😭😭😭

Honey immediately realized what they'd done and a hand flew over their mouth. They were kneeling next to Guy within seconds.

They cupped his face, "holy shit, are you okay!? Let me see-"

Guy's glasses had been punched off his face, but since he was on the floor, Chat couldn't see.

He had tears in his eyes though he was laughing and saying he was fine.

Honey felt so fucking bad.

"No, Honey, I'm fine really. You don't have to- no! Oh noo, Honey don't cry!"

They weren't crying, they were just… teary.

A lot just happened all at once. They got scared, and they punched their boyfriend in front of around 200k people, and they're pretty sure his nose is broken. Leave them alone.

Guy pulled off his face mask, revealing his bruised, bloody nose. Yeah. That's broken.

Honey's eyes were full of so much guilt, you'd think they murdered someone's puppy.

They did.

Their puppy.

They said sorry so many times, they sounded like a broken record. They held Guy, with their face buried in the crook of his neck, mumbling apologies, before finally coming to their senses and turning off the stream to take Guy to the hospital.

He wasn't mad at them. Of course he wasn't.

But Honey was mad at themself, because how could they ever hurt Guy like that!?

He insisted it was fine, that he understood it was a reflex, and that he shouldn't have scared them (because he knows they react violently).

Regardless, Honey sucked up to him so much while his nose was healing, let me tell you.

They babied him, they coddled him, they waited on him hand and foot.

Guy hated that they felt so guilty, but he was getting so much love and affection, so…

He wasn't even that badly hurt, these two are just dramatic

—

After that little fiasco, Guy's account now has a special alert to let Honey know that he's in chat (so he doesn't go do something stupid like that again).

At first the sound was a little ding noise, but then Guy changed it.

Now it starts playing the jaws theme.

#i know this wasnt as interesting as the other parts T^T im sorry #these were the things i was able to write down while off my meds #but since im back on them hopefully part five will have some more fun stuff #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted honey #redacted guy #redacted pizza guy #redacted streamer!honey #redacted fanfic

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foxgloveprincess · 2 years

Text

Pairing: DBF Ari Levinson x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Word Count: 4,425

Summary: Your online friend supports you in everything you do—and in everything you want. Perhaps a little too much.

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark including Non Con/Dub Con, Kidnapping, and implied Attic Wife), Kissing and Sex (Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Unprotected Sex, Overstimulation, Praise, Biting, Rope Bondage), Modern AU, Age Gap (Ari is in his 40s, Reader is in her 20s), Dad’s Best Friend, Strained Father/Daughter Relationship (with implications of Verbal Abuse), Online Friendship, Texting, Shared Fantasizing (including Kidnapping Fantasies), Catfishing, Implied Stalking, Daddy Kink, Yandere Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Crying, Pet Names (li’l dip, baby, li’l bear, etc). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: This idea has been percolating in the back of my head for months. Today it strikes me and it becomes a DBF story, so there you go. The video mentioned is this one which absolutely tickled me pink when I first watched it. Also, anyone else just wonder sometimes who’s sitting across the screen from you? Sorry if this hits a little too close to home in that regard. Title from “Meant to Be Yours” from Heathers the Musical

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog/comment if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing themes/dynamics/warnings, thank you!

The summer sun beats down on your shoulders, reflected into your eyes on the soft waves of the lake. You sip some sickly sweet cocktail in a can and lean back on the dock. Soaking in the atmosphere and trying so hard not to think about your phone, sitting right beside your fingertips ready to be snatched up at any second.

You sigh, glancing once more at the black screen. It’s silly. Reception is shit up here. She probably has—

Your phone buzzes, vibrating the wood and sending a thrill shooting through your veins. You grab the device, fumbling with your drink and nearly spilling all over your clothes. But the notification is there.

paintedmermaid: I can’t believe he said that. He’s a bastard and you deserve better.

Tears sting your eyes—from your sunscreen and moisturizer, surely, right—definitely not from such a simple message. You sniff and blink, smiling down at the screen.

: I know, but he’s my dad.

paintedmermaid: I’m still gonna kick his ass if I ever meet him.

“Who’s got you all smiley, li’l dip?”

You jump and tuck your phone close to your chest. Peeking over your shoulder, your breath hitches. The relief of it not being your dad is short lived, his best friend standing behind you with a curious glint in his eye.

“Why do you call me that?” you ask in return, tilting your head and scrunching your brows. Not that you’ve ever truly minded, the fuzzy feeling in your tummy proof of it.

The man chuckles, shaking his head. Hands resting in his pockets, he shrugs. “Like the Little Dipper, the constellation. A cute little baby bear—I figured it’s fitting, being as young as you are and all.”

“I’m not a child,” you refute, turning on your rear to glare up at him. Biting back at the insult you never thought you’d hear from him.

“I know,” he assures, with a tilt of his head and a grin. “Still thought it was fitting for you.” His nonchalance doesn’t falter, waiting to gauge your reaction.

You sigh, releasing that fizzling spark of ire from your chest. Watching his head nod toward your phone, waiting for the answer to his question.

It’s hard to swallow, heart thumping in your chest as you reply, “It’s just a friend.”

“A friend?” he asks, stepping closer and taking a seat beside you. You scoot over, giving him space, though as he settles his knee rests against your own. “Your dad said you didn’t have anyone to bring on the trip.”

Looking down at your lap, your shoulders curl forward, trying to shield yourself from the embarrassment. It’s true. Here you are, at your dad’s lake house, all alone with your dad, his new wife, and his best friend Ari. Not exactly a riot in your books. Certainly a crowd well out of your age bracket.

“She lives across the country,” you mumble, bending your knees and wrapping your arms around them.

“How did you even meet?” he asks, a lilt to his voice you don’t quite understand—something playful, amused, a little off-putting.

“Online.” You shrug, ducking your chin closer to your knees. Awaiting the inevitable tirade about your ‘reclusive nature’ stemming from an ‘unhealthy digital life’—you’d gotten it from your dad often enough.

“I’m glad you have someone to talk to,” he says instead, hand resting on your shoulder and squeezing gently.

Peeking over at him, a small smile pulls at your lips. You don’t understand how a man like Ari could be friends with your dad. They’d met while you were in college, hitting it off at work and becoming close despite an age difference of about ten years. Yet since then, he’s been around. All the time. The best man at your dad’s wedding, at almost every family dinner, holidays and barbecues. But he’s nothing like your dad—supportive when your dad is critical, calm when your dad is volatile, comforting when your dad is cold. It’s no wonder you’d accepted him into your life without a fuss.

“Her name is Arielle,” you add, voice quiet and hesitant, “she’s does these really pretty watercolor paintings.”

“I’ve always wanted to try that kind of art,” he comments, fingers still dancing along the skin of your shoulder, a soothing touch that barely catches your notice. “What do you talk to her about?”

“Everything.” You smile and look to her message on your phone. “When my job’s giving me a tough time or what she’s painting. What we hope for and dream about.”

Ari hums, a low reassuring sound, and nods. “She sounds like a good friend.”

Your phone buzzes.

paintedmermaid: I really need someone to take me away, right now.

Your lips purse in a frown. Fingers tapping quickly, you type out your inquiry.

: What’s happened?

Another response doesn’t come quick enough, anxiety building up in your belly until it threatens to climb up your throat. You wait, returning to work, distracted while checking for typos. But at the first buzz of your phone, you drop everything to check.

paintedmermaid: I just can’t stop thinking about what you were telling me last night. Now all I want is someone to whisk me away and keep me locked up safe and sated.

paintedmermaid: I think I’m just horny.

You chuckle at Arielle’s antics, shaking your head and thinking of a response. It’s easier to get back to work, letting your mind focus on your task. You wait to let your thoughts drift until your break, picking up your phone and responding while picking at your lunch.

: I get it. Sometimes all I want is to be someone’s kept woman. No responsibilities, no big decisions. Just someone who’ll take care of me and fuck me until I can’t think anymore.

You sigh and tilt your head back on your shoulders. The stretch feels good, your whole body stiff. Your phone pings.

paintedmermaid: You’d be such a good little baby! 😆 You just need a Daddy to take you in and spoil you rotten.

Your eyes roll and you scoot down in your chair, uncaring of any more aches or pains the poor posture might incite.

: Don’t I know it. Alas, the struggle is real. Not like anyone is lining up around the block for me.

paintedmermaid: What about that guy your dad’s friends with? He’s so hot. Talk about Daddy.🤌💋

You choke on a sip of water, sputtering while scanning the suggestion over and over. Ari? Really? You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. Haven’t gotten weak in the knees when his attentions have landed on you. Haven’t imagined perhaps what could be. But, no.

: 🫣 I couldn’t.

paintedmermaid: You could. 😌 But suit yourself.

paintedmermaid: Btw did you see that trailer for that new vampire movie. I was shaking. 🥴

: Yes! OMG! 🫠

The conversation continues from there—all traces of her shocking suggestion left behind. Even when your break ends and work begins again, messages interrupt your proofreading. And you cave each time. Responding to her speculations in kind, the two of you building a story together, back and forth with ideas until your deepest darkest fantasies stare back at you from the screen.

By the time the sun sits low on the horizon and you’re clocking out, you’re giddy with the naughty endeavor you’ve written out. Salacious enough to make an erotica novelist blush.

You prepare a lonely dinner, popping on a movie to watch—something tried a true, and not emotionally taxing. You eat in front of the screen, scrolling through the dialogue, waiting for a response. Chest aching with the bitterness of knowing such a thing will never become reality. That fantasy is all it will ever be. No one will want you enough—adore you enough—to steal you away.

You halt that train of thought in its progress before it can consume you, throwing your attention into the movie and setting your phone aside. Despite the needling temptation to return to the smaller screen and let yourself be dragged under.

Arielle doesn’t message back until late in the night. A video sent through the stream. Stuffed animal clutched tight to your chest, you smile into the plush.

You tap it and it plays in the quiet. A compilation with responses from people jokingly—and maybe not-so-jokingly—estimating how long it would take them to fall into Stockholm Syndrome. A giddy feeling bubbles within you, near overwhelmed by the relief of having someone to talk to—someone who understands you. Overjoyed by that realization that you are seen. Sleep finds you as the video loops, a smile etched on your lips and dreams full of tall figures luring you toward a delicious doom.

The laundry machine keeps eating your underwear. It’s not all the time or too many pairs, but enough that it finally catches your notice. Panties disappearing off the face of the planet. Leaving you debating your use of the building’s laundry room.

paintedmermaid: I’m sorry. 😬 Maybe you should ask around your building?

: No way. 😱

Your head shakes, tilted back against the rumbling machine. A chunk of time out of your day spent sitting in front of the dryer because you can’t leave your laundry alone anymore, apparently. You sigh.

: It’s no big deal. I have you to keep me company. 💜

She doesn’t reply. Your message sitting unanswered. You bite at your nails, but accept the silence. Turning off your screen and sitting back.

Alone with your thoughts, you ruminate on the other strange occurrences arising in the past week. The disappearing underwear just the tip of the iceberg. There’s the migrating books, the multiplying cookies, the washed dishes. All of them little ruptures throughout the day, nuisances or blessings that leave you perplexed.

“It’s nothing,” you mutter to yourself in the empty room. “It’s all just in my dizzy head.”

No one answers you back here either.

It’s not until later, when you’re watching Labyrinth for the thousandth time that Arielle responds.

paintedmermaid: Sorry! Sorry! 😣 I got caught up watching a movie and thought I responded when I didn’t.

: What movie?

paintedmermaid: Labyrinth. I got lost in the Goblin King’s eyes…..and bulge.

You bark a laugh, pressing a hand to your lips before responding.

: Oh gods, me too! 😂

paintedmermaid: What’s your favorite part??

: When he says “Just fear me, love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave.”

: I mean, come on. Who could resist? Take me away, Goblin Daddy. 🤭🥴

She sends back a silly reaction gif and you chat as the rest of the movie plays. It’s nice, like you’re watching together. Pausing when she grabs a snack or when you need the bathroom. Letting your troubles drift off as the hours while away. Falling asleep with her, a long-distance sleepover.

The morning brings with it bright prospects. You ready yourself for the day, donning a cute outfit which compliments your figure and snapping a picture when the inclination arises. Before you can think, it’s sent in your chat and waiting judgement from Arielle.

Nerves prick. It’s the first time you’ve done anything like this—sent a picture to someone you’ve only talked to online. But she doesn’t even give you a moment to rue your impulsiveness.

paintedmermaid: 😍😍😍 Babe, you’re gorgeous!

The instant the response appears on your screen, you smile, beaming incandescent. You can’t stop the heat creeping up your cheeks or the flustered feeling filling your head. An elated noise rolls in your throat, clutching your phone close and breathing in the compliment.

Throughout the day, that fuzzy feeling accompanies you on your errands. Thoughts of your friend flooding your mind with warmth, though she remains fairly quiet. A busy day for her, an art show or family business. You don’t question it, knowing she needs space, too.

Standing on your dad’s doorstep, you send one last message, ‘I’m at my dad’s, pray for me. Talk to you later?’, before tucking the device into your purse. And just like that, the bubble pops. Mood souring in the span of a breath.

Another family dinner—another farce. Pretending for an evening that you can stand to be in his presence. You only hope he’s too bothered by something from work to make belittling comments.

The door swings open. An unexpected face greeting you.

“Hey, li’l dip,” Ari welcomes, ushering you into the house. Pausing for a second, closing the door, he chuckles. “Your dad didn’t tell you I’d be here, did he?”

Your head shakes, swallowing nervously as your mind volleys to the conversation Arielle continues to pursue lately—talking about Ari like he’s your perfect match, a prime opportunity, prompting you to make a move. “I’m not complaining, though,” you assure, trying not to stumble over the words, “he’s nicer when you’re around.” Your face pinches in a grimace—that was not something he needed to know.

Ari’s brow creases with concern. He sucks his teeth, ready to make a comment when your dad walks through the living room doorway, greeting you with a loose hug.

“There you are, kid,” your dad says, grabbing you by the shoulder and glancing over your outfit. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he wants to. A comment about what you’re wearing, your weight, your face—it’s always something. “I’m glad your job is keeping you well-fed.” And there he goes.

You sigh and swallow down the insult. Used to it, used to bearing it for the sake of civility. “Is Candace in the kitchen?” you ask, avoiding the jab and stepping away from the men.

Your feet find their hasty escape, shaking your head at the hurt squeezing your heart. Terse words follow you down the hall, a discussion you’re glad you can’t hear.

Dinner passes in bout of awkward conversation. Ari carries most of it. Your dad complains about his job in return—a reprieve from his usual tactics of deprecation. Candace keeps to her typical inclination, saying nothing unless spoken to directly. You do the same until dinner ends, pushing food around your plate and trying to make yourself as small as possible.

With nothing more to eat, or say, you help clean up. Taking their plates and your own, escaping into the safety of the kitchen. It’s easier to breathe away from them. Taking a moment to center yourself, chatter reaches your ears from the other room. Your absence enough to alleviate the tension between them. With an incredulous scoff, you open the dishwasher, ready to stack in the plates and cutlery.

“Just wash them and put them away,” your dad instructs, sauntering into the kitchen with his hands shoved in his pockets. “We’ll be off in the Bahamas for a week, so no one else will be here to take care of them.”

The dishes clink. Your hands slipping on their slick surfaces. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I just did,” your dad dismisses. Breezing away like he does, letting you catch only the slightest glimpse of his eyes rolling.

You’re not upset. Not really. It’s a reprieve, actually. Not to have to cater to your dad’s incessant need for familial validation for a whole week. Still, you curse and shut the machine before letting the sink run to heat up the water.

“You look like you need this now.” A hand holds out a glass of wine, your refilled one from the table. You send Ari a smile and accept his offering with a quiet thanks.

He keeps you company, drying the dishes as you wash them, placing them back in the cupboards and drawers where they belong. Each of you taking sips of your wine and making small talk to fill the silence.

It still amazes you sometimes, when Ari makes a comment or observation, how little you know about the man. But each new revelation adds another fascinating piece to the puzzle. Letting you really look at him and wonder if Arielle was really so far off-base in suggesting him as a match.

By the time all the dishes are away, you’re yawning. The hour’s late. Later than normal for your family dinners. All you want is to curl up and conk out, but you’d never do it at your dad’s house. No way, no how. Not since you moved out for college and never looked back.

Ever the gentleman, Ari offers a lift. He tucks you into his passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt and drives off. The purr of the engine and the lull of the road tugs at your eyelids until they droop. You relax against the leather seats and sleep takes you under.

It’s the perfect mix of cold and cozy when you wake up. The room temperature just right to have you burrowing beneath your blankets. You hum and burry your head under your pillow, intent on keeping the light out of your eyes.

You startle at a shift of fabric. Blankets moving by your feet, not disturbed by any movement of your own. Eyes opening, you jolt—this is not your room.

An attempt to sit up falls flat, your hands bound together which proves an unexpected impediment. The second time you move to sit, you manage to push yourself up, legs tied in the same way. The unyielding rope keeps you rather immobile, but you manage. Brushing your forehead with your tied hands and the scratch of the knots.

“Morning, li’l dip.”

You blink, gazing at Ari sitting at the foot of the bed as if nothing is amiss. Your lips part on a question, struggling to understand. This isn’t Ari’s place either—you don’t think. He lives downtown in an apartment and the window to your right shows a view of endless tall trees. Not unlike the view of your dad’s lake house. But you’re also not there.

“Where are we?” you ask, panic jittering beneath your skin.

“We’re home,” Ari coos, brushing his hand over the ropes binding your legs, carefully untying each knot along your calves. “I know we said that it would be more romantic to introduce you to this in your apartment, but you fell asleep so well with that sleeping pill in your system, I knew—”

Taken aback by his speech, your head lolls on your neck. “What?”

Ari sighs, an amused and self-deprecating sound. “I’m sorry, baby bear, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He scoots closer across the blankets. His hands reach out, cradling your face and placing a kiss on your forehead. “We talked so much about this. I can hardly contain myself with you right here.”

“What did we talk about?” you ask, wary of the answer. You lean away, hoping to release yourself from Ari’s hands, but he holds firm.

“The perfect way to take you away,” Ari explains, affection lining his face while his free hand explores lower, trailing down your body. “I know we were just talking about fantasies, but Daddy just wants to give you everything you want.” He breathes softly, his forehead leaning to rest against your temple. He hums a satisfied sound and brushes his thumb across your cheek with his other finding that warm place between your thighs.

You swallow, fear filling your head until it buzzes with static. With gritted teeth, you jerk your head away. You need space. You need clarification. You need a fucking break.

“Ari,” you snap, “what the hell are you talking about?” Your voice rises, but you can’t help it with the distress surging through you. You blink away tears along with the budding understanding of your circumstances. “I talked about that with Arielle. Were you spying on me?”

His lips tilt in a smirk, sighing with a condescending shake of his head. His fingers pet over your underwear, an attempt at soothing that sends you reeling in the opposite direction. “Oh, sweet baby, no. Nothing like that. Arielle doesn’t exist.”

His statement alone knocks the breath out of your lungs. She’s not real. It certainly doesn’t seem so. And you hadn’t told anyone else about…well, any of it. Not one word of your deepest, darkest fantasies. Not to any other soul, except her.

But the clash of sensations in your body can’t handle that truth along with the heat spreading at his intimate touch. You can’t sniff back the tears anymore, they fill your eyes until they’re blurry. Burbling pleas dribble past your lips as you attempt to wriggle away from his caress, “Please, Ari, please. Let me go, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t understand—”

“Shhhh,” he hushes, wiping away your tears. His lips find your cheek, kissing your face until they meet yours. It consumes you, the way he holds your head and devours you with a fervent passion. You mewl against him, bound hands pushing at his chest, but just as before, you’re powerless against him. He pulls away, still shushing you with a brush of your lips. “You’re safe now. Just do as I say.”

He meets your eye, expectant and unrelenting. Pushing aside the gusset of your panties, he fondles the petals of your sex, sighing against you in relief. Like the whole world feels right with you in his arms. But it’s not. It’s not right. Your tears continue to well and drip down your cheeks. But he’s distracted.

It takes only half a thought for your leg to lift from the plush bedding, kicking out at his side, hoping for an opportunity to escape. But the impact only produces a muted grunt from him. A glare narrows his features, fingers squeezing at your mound until you breath hitches.

Steely determination glints in his eyes. Waiting patient for your compliance. It dawns like the sun breaking over the horizon. Details forming a picture of your demise. Ari’s pastime as a hobby artist. Arielle introducing herself in the chat room, striking up a friendship and consistently catching your attention with notions that were so relatable. Her inconsistent sleep schedule. The suggestions to make your move. The personal comments knowing you too well left overlooked. The feeling of being watched. The strange occurrences in your apartment. It’s been his plan from the start. You’re trapped. The fight extinguished in a second under his steadfast stare.

“That’s my good little baby,” Ari purrs at the sight of your surrender, pushing you down against the pillows and leaning in to ravish you again.

Despite every whine and whimper of weak protest, he ravages you. Taking you apart piece by piece until your conform to his perfect delusion. Left writhing against the sheets as he brings to life every fantasy that once sparked titillation. Your pleasure crashing over you in waves of rapture, leaving you breathless and shaking. Clinging to any form of reason and forced to let it flutter away each time he sets his sights on another blissful torture.

“Please,” you beg, dragging his head closer to your center with bound hands, muscles aching. “No more, please.”

He hums against you, sending a shiver of acute ecstasy racing up your spine. “Daddy’s not done yet, li’l dip,” he grunts, voice gravelly and dipped in desire.

Twice, he’s taken you with his tongue, licking your cunt with unrestrained longing until you’re sent careening over the edge. In between only a breath before he sheathed himself within you, stretching you wide over his girth and leaving your legs shaking. Filling you to the brim and painting you white with his cum. He moans and feasts on you now, the mix of your essence and his coating his tongue before he crowds over you and captures you in a kiss.

His cock twitches against your thigh, an omen of his tireless interest. And of your ruin.

But he remains attached to your lips, licking into your mouth and swallowing each sound that escapes your throat. Murmured and distorted by the pleasure he plucks from your reluctant body. His fingers descend in place of his mouth, teasing your clit and plunging into your cunt. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, a gasp consumed by his greedy lips.

Your mind unfetters, lost to this man’s mission of destruction. Ready to concede every thought and thirst to his skilled hands.

“Say it, baby. Just like we talked about,” he prompts, kissing across your cheek toward your throat, nibbling on your pulse point until your eyes roll in your skull. “Tell Daddy how much you love him.” The words, definitive and commanding, ooze with his desperation. His fingers accompanying that concealed plea with enthusiastic effort, finding that delicious spot inside you that shoots stars behind your eyelids.

Your head shakes, tears and sweat dripping. Desperate to maintain that one last tether to reality. But Ari’s unrelenting, his cock once again hard and replacing his fingers with a mind-altering plunge. Your lips gape open on silent keen, praying for sanity as it drips away.

“Say it,” he commands again, words lifted with his wildness. “Been waiting too long, so say it.” His teeth sink into your flesh, a pain complementing the overwhelming pleasure and ensnaring your senses.

“Daddy!” you gasp, the word punched from deep inside you by a brutal thrust of his hips. A whine rolls low in your throat, the stroke of him inside you scrambling any thoughts that form. “Please.” The plea goes unheeded, his hand cradling your throat and leveling your hazy gaze with his own.

“Just say it, sweet li’l dip,” Ari coos, a promise shining bright in the azure of his eyes. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Just say it.”

“I—” You swallow a moan and blink back tears. “I love you, Daddy.”

He smiles, wide and bright, growling and crowding you with his body. His hips continue their motion, thrusting unrestrained and accelerating. Chasing his high as his hand snakes down your body to play with your oversensitive bundle of nerves.

And as another wave crests, you’re washed away by euphoria, left drifting in Ari’s arms and feeling the warmth of him coating you again.

“Just like that,” he praises with a tender kiss to your cheek. “Absolutely perfect.”

As he bundles you in his arms, wrapping tight around you, you sniff back your tears and dry your eyes. Try to center yourself in this twisted world of devotion and devastation with the soft brush of his breath against your neck. After all, it’s everything you ever wished for.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #female reader #dark #dark fic #modern au #tw non con #non con #smut #yandere vibes #18+#minors dni #attic wives anonymous

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invisibleraven · 2 months

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"Stop pretending that you care" sounds very Carrie-coded to me, so Carrie(/or &) anyone

"Carrie! Carrie this way please!"

Carrie held her hand up, as if that would magically stop the paps from taking her photo, from hounding her with questions, from being anywhere near her.

She knew this was the price of fame-everyone wanting a piece of you, but sometimes she just wanted to vanish off the face of the Earth, and just go back to being anonymous. Even if it was only for a second.

Finally she was in the hotel lobby, and even if the odd person there stared at her, it beat the overbearing presence of the vultures outside. She turned to her assistant Julie. "Can you check us in and get everything settled? I need a drink."

"Right away," Julie replied with anod, instructing the bellhops and valets to take the wealth of luggage towards the front desk. Julie was good at her job-that was half the reason Carrie hired her. Well that and they had been friends since childhood, meaning Julie was one of the few people Carrie trusted, and knew her as a person, not her Pink Candi persona.

"Glass of Manhattan please," she said as she sat at the bar, sliding over a large enough bill to cover the drink, plus a generous tip. She found servers were less likely to rat you out if you tipped well.

"Coming right up," the bartender replied, and soon enough the glass was in front of her, and a genuine smile offered to her as she nodded in thanks. "You need anything else, even if it's an open ear, just lemme know."

Carrie chuckled into her drink. "This doesn't look like that kind of bar."

The server shrugged. "Ain't nothing wrong with offering a bit of hospitality. Plus most people get chatty if they're liquored up enough, so the least I can do is listen."

Carrie hummed, taking another sip of her drink. Why not talk to this stranger though? Beat going to therapy like her dad constantly did, or fucking off to goodness knows where like her mom did. "I know I shouldn't complain. I have everything you could want but it's not..."

"What you thought it would be?" he offered.

"Exactly," she surmised. "There are times I just wanna be you know?"

"Totally," the server said, slicing up fruit for garnishes as he listened. "Even if you're doing what you love, it's still a job some days."

"Is this what you love?" Carrie asked. "Bartending and part time therapy?"

He snorted. "It's a living. But no, this is just a side hustle to pay off my loans. I do what I love when I'm not here slinging drinks."

"And what's that?" she asked, polishing off her drink and watching as he effortlessly made her another without her needing to ask.

"Photography," he replied.

Carrie's hackles rose at that-this hotel was well known for housing the rich and famous. What if he worked here so he could get a few snaps to sell later? "Like nature or weddings?"

"Sometimes," he replied. "Beats doing fashion shoots. But no, I mostly shoot magazines, celebrities and the like."

Carrie pushed her second drink away then, standing up. "Well that's just great. Enjoy your scoop."

"What?" he asked, looking confused. "What's going on now?"

"Stop pretending you care," she hissed. "Vulture."

"I am... so confused," he stated.

That's when Julie came in, and her face lit up as she spotted them. "Reggie!" she ran over, hugging him over the bar. "I hoped you'd be working here tonight"

"Ju Ju Bean!" he replied, his smile blooming. "Yeah, well when you told me when you'd be here, I asked for the shift. Figured you might have time to catch up."

"Always," she replied, and god Carrie ached to see how happy and smiley Julie was-a smile she thought was reserved for Carrie alone. "Oh, Carrie, this is Reggie. He and I went to college together, and he did his apprenticeship with my dad. Reggie, this is my boss and best friend, Carrie."

"We've met," Reggie replied, his smile turning more polite. "She seems to have the wrong idea about me."

Carrie looked sheepish as she shrunk under Julie's glare. "It's just... he said he did photography. Specifically celebrities and after the paps outside... I overreacted. Sorry."

Reggie relaxed at that. "No I get it-those idiots have caused more than enough trouble. I do more so album covers, stuff for interviews. Promo images, and gig shoots. Legit publications, not the Inquirer."

"He's actually doing the photos for your gig tomorrow," Julie added. "I was going to introduce you two over dinner this evening."

Carrie drooped at that. "And now I am doubly sorry."

Reggie waved her off. "No I seriously get it. My best friend Luke reacted the same way when I told him I wanted to get into the biz-he made me promise to stick to the light side of the force, even if the money is good for the paps. We're cool, and if you want someone else tomorrow, I won't hold a grudge."

"No, you've been nothing but kind, and I was reverting back to my high school mean girl persona," Carrie stated. "How about we start over? I'm Carrie."

"Reggie," he replied, shaking her offered hand. "Now, my shift is done, so how about dinner and we can discuss your vision for the shoot?"

"Only if you let me pay," Carrie offered.

"Well d'uh," Reggie replied, offering her and Julie his arms. "Now where are you two lovely ladies taking me tonight?"

Julie rolled her eyes fondly at him, but Carrie saw the way she leaned into him, the way she wanted Julie to lean into her, and understood a lot clearer why they had stopped here specifically.

But the way that Reggie looked at the both of them? The way he made them laugh and feel appreciated, valued, and completely normal for once? Carrie could work with that.

And even though the selfie she took of the three of them that night was no work of art, especially not with Reggie taking gorgeous shots of the three of them over the years. That first picture would always be her favourite, as it was the beginning of the rest of her life.

#filled prompts #ficlet #regal jewelry #julie and the phantoms

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thatssofiya · 11 months

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A welcome to Tumblr for my newbie friends!

Tumblr is a site that may seem confusing and intimidating at first, but can quickly become one of your favorites 😎 Here are some basic tips as to how you, too, can become a tumblr girlie.

Add a picture and a description to your blog! This helps separate you from spam bots. Simple things like this are editable in "Blog settings".

There are three main feeds- "following", "for you", and "your tags." Following is the feed where you'll see content that everyone you follow makes or reblogs. For you is suggested content based on an algorithm. And your tags is when you specifically search up a topic on Tumblr and then follow it. Those latter two will be filled with content relevant to you from people you don't follow.

There's a big difference between liking (the heart) and reblogging (the double arrow) a post! Reblogging is usually regarded as the better option because it underlies the whole concept of Tumblr: sharing content to curate your blog and then sharing that content with your followers. This is what makes Tumblr a community and is what's especially important for creators (whether that be gif, art, fic, etc.)

When you post something (or reblog), you have the option of adding tags to the bottom! These can be used to help people find your post, organize your content, and simply be used for fun. A lot of people use the tag as a mix of organization and to let out their thoughts.

You can also add to a post when you reblog it! Your additions will be seen by the creator and your followers (and anyone who sees it if your followers reblog it). This is a nice way to add your thoughts if you want other people to see them!

When posting or reblogging, you have the options of posting now, adding to the queue (posts are released on a time-based schedule - this schedule can be altered under "Queue"), saving as a draft, posting privately, or scheduling for a specific time. This is really a personal preference - some people like to spam a lot of posts at once, some like to spread them out. Find what works best for you!

Last basic tip I want to share is that messaging can be done a few different ways, but the most common are: direct messages (the smiley conversation box) and asks (the envelope - sending one is like sending a letter, potentially anonymously, and can be answered either privately or publicly). Either option is a nice way to get to know people, in addition to adding tags or your thoughts on someone's post.

Most importantly have fun and be nice! And remember that Youtube is your friend! 💕

#tumblr help #hi friends<3 #I've been on this hell site for like 12 years so

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dimension20npcofalltime · 8 months

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Tournament Two: Round One - Bracket Fifteen [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time]

Hans Schadenfreude vs Esther Sinclair

Propaganda under the cut

Hans Shadenfreude - He/him

Campaign: Mentopolis

Who is he?

Hans is an enormous, but good-natured, man with a German accent. His name and personality make it very clear that he is a manifestation of the feeling of Schadenfreude, an experience of taking pleasure from the pain of others. Despite his bubbly demeanor, he is a very violent person, which means he makes for an excellent bouncer for the club.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

An icon. Big beefy man with a smiley attitude and a desire to watch suffering.

Submitted by: Anonymous

Esther Sinclair - She/Her

Campaign: The Unsleeping City, The Unsleeping City: Chapter II

Who is she?

Esther Sinclair is the Proctor of the Clinton Hill Chantry and the Chairwoman of the Gramercy Occult Society. She is a very powerful wizard and the daughter of Gabriela Sinclair, one of the Furies of Tompkins Square Park.

Why is she the NPC of All Time?

"She’s a wizard with a baseball bat. She’s the smartest person in the room and also in love with a Zac Obama brand Himbo. She is a great friend to the players and also cursed to not feel emotions or she’ll become a spirit/fury. Saved by the power of true love."

Submitted by: WON HER SUDDEN DEATH MINI-ROUND

#dimension 20 #dimension20npcofalltime #dimension 20 bracket #dimension 20 tournament #d20 #the unsleeping city #mentopolis

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royal-confessions · 11 months

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“Anyone who's followed Roger's career and life (like I've done for 15 years) knows EVERYONE goes crazy and a fangirl around him. Anna Wintour and Lindsey Vonn are like that, just to name a few. Roger is a beyond accomplished, humble, honest, sincere and trusty man. No one dislikes him cause he's a truly beautiful human being and Kate is proud to be considered a friend by him and Mirka. Mirka also has never been a very smiley person and she's been subjected to misogynistic abuse for it for decades, people even wanted to paint her as a lazy goldigger who didn't love Roger and trapped him with a pregnancy, which it's the same some people say of Kate, so I guess they can relate to one another in many ways. Taking the pics were she's focused on the match but totally omitting the ones where she's having a blast with Kate is DISGUSTING. These women were talking the whole time (people in the stadium confirmed this).” - Submitted by Anonymous

#kate middleton #catherine princess of wales #roger federer

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thomasschabot · 1 year

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find myself running home to you

thomas chabot x fem!reader

for thomas, big wins don’t always have to be celebrated in flashy ways

word count: 2.5k

warnings: cursing

a/n: first fic in almost five months, what’s good? this is extremely niche content but i simply do not care 😌

⭑⭒⭑

Ottawa offers enveloping anonymity and you love it.

It’s a city with too much going on governmentally for people to care about hockey all that much, but the loyal handfuls still respect the privacy of those in the organization and leave them alone, save for the rare time a child asks to take a picture with their favourite player. You’re thankful this is where your roots are extending, settling into the suburbs and occasionally winding their way down Dalhousie into the heart of the Market for a night out. No one bothers you, even when you’re out with Thomas, and it’s the thing that will keep you from ever leaving. The future of a professional athlete is unpredictable, you know, but you’ll fight your boyfriend tooth and nail if he ever wants to move somewhere else unless they’re offering him millions of more dollars and the same opportunity to live your lives publicly and without incident.

The fact that no one cares who you are allows you to sit in your favourite spot at the Canadian Tire Centre — a seat in the 300s directly across from the home bench so you can see everything Thomas experiences. He’s not particularly skilled at hiding his emotions, but you adore him because of it. Even when the two of you are arguing you know exactly how he feels, and it often leads to quicker resolutions because neither of you are afraid of communicating.

As you slide into your seat far away from the friends and family box, where many other significant others and their families are enjoying the game, the person sitting next to you gives a smile.

“Right choice of jersey there, eh?” the older gentleman laughs, gesturing to his back to show you’re wearing the same jersey.

It’s a Giroux reverse retro, with all the trimmings that made the 2007 cup run so spectacular even if G wasn’t anywhere near Ottawa, and it’s your most prized possession. Thomas had gifted it to you one random Sunday, and simply shrugged when you asked why. The smallest detail on the back is what makes it so special — a signature is on the bottom of the eight, along with a little smiley face.

“I like to think so,” you reply, smiling wide at the fact this man either doesn’t know who you are or doesn’t care. “And I think the boys are going to come out guns-a-blazing.”

You know this, of course, because the energy flowing through your home and the homes of other Senators has been electric through the holiday break, but you aren’t going to spill that secret. The man returns your grin tenfold. “I certainly hope so. I didn’t come all the way across the province in a snowstorm to watch them lose.”

⭒⭑⭒

Lose they do not. The Sens play their hearts out, keeping up with the slightly sloppy hockey Boston played. New teammates are becoming more and more like brothers as the seasons plods along, and it’s beginning to show — every single line has undeniable chemistry that’s palpable everywhere in the arena, including the press box. It’s all the beat reporters can write about, and the public can’t get enough of the content, allowing the guys to focus on playing hockey, which is what they do best.

The game is scoreless through a period and a half, and then the floodgates open. It’s a constant flip-flop of goals being scored, with neither team ever eeking ahead to grab a hold of the lead. Thomas continues to be the playmaker he is, passing when the time is right, connecting on clean hits, and eventually bagging an assist. It’s a relatively quiet third period, with most of the action happening in the neutral zone, but you’re on the edge of your seat as the clock winds down. Regulation ends with a tie, and you bounce your leg up and down rapidly while Thomas gets instructions from the coaching staff on how he should proceed through the first shift of overtime.

“Nervous?”

It’s your seat neighbour, eyes holding a look of fond curiosity. He’s showing no obvious signs of concern of distress, and truly looks like he’s going to enjoy what’s coming. “You look like you might puke.”

A small laugh bubbles from your throat. “I loathe OT,” you explain, “It’s so nerve wracking.”

“If you’re going to hurl, please try not to get it on my shoes. My daughter bought them for me as a Christmas gift with her first pay cheque.”

You don’t get a chance to respond, to assure him you won’t actually be sick despite the clamminess creeping into your skin, because the puck drops and the clock starts counting down. Five minutes is an awfully long time when there’s only three players a side and changes happen less frequently. Thomas is on the ice for nearly two minutes before he’s able to come off — somehow he has the puck more than anyone else, taking the occasional shot but mostly keeping it away from the rapidly tiring Boston forwards. You watch with bated breath, bracing yourself for the overwhelming emotions of elation or despair, depending on which net the puck lands in. To the surprise of almost everyone, Talbot stops every shot that comes his way, and the overtime period yields no results.

Before your friend for the night can even open his mouth you’re firing words out of your mouth so quickly they almost don’t make sense. “I fucking hate shootouts and they better win or lose before Chabby has to go up.”

It’s common knowledge that Thomas isn’t confident in shootout situations, and though he’s actively working on it, they only happen every-so-often. He can’t seem to muster the swagger of Brady or the pure skill of Tim, and opposing goalies can read him from miles away. You hope he doesn’t have to step up to the plate because you know if he’s the reason the team loses Thomas will hold it on his shoulders for weeks.

“Looks like it’ll be DeBrincat, Stütlze, and Batherson.” You barely hear what’s being said to you, ears ringing so loud it’s almost unbearable.

No air leaves your lungs as you watch Alex get ready. It’s only once his puck buries itself in the back of the net do you exhale, and even then it’s shallow — the lead could be nullified in a matter of seconds. Luckily it’s not, and you slowly return to your normal breathing pattern. Tim misses, but so does DeBrusk, and when Batherson narrowly misses victory is so close you can almost taste it. Never in your life have you wanted Patrice Bergeron to fumble so badly, and there’s a prick in your heart for wishing ill on one of Thomas’s friends, but you need the Senators to win. The team needs the confidence boost of beating the team with the best record in the entire league.

The ten seconds of Bergeron’s attempt pass in slow motion, and when Talbot closes his glove around the puck you’re out of your seat, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of your lungs. You can’t believe the team pulled it off, and you cheers the people around you with an empty water bottle you’ve been holding on to since the second intermission. As your boyfriend skates towards centre ice to celebrate with his teammates he raises his stick in your general direction — not knowing exactly where you are but knowing you’ll know who the gesture was for.

People don’t linger for long, wanting to try and beat the traffic, so you wish the man who kept you company safe travels as he sneaks past and watch the crowd disperse. You stay until the stars of the game take to the ice and chuckle when DeBrincat nearly trips over the bench on his way to the dressing room corridor. With a rapidly depopulating section and a clear pathway to the corridor that takes you down to ice level, you gather your jacket and walk at a leisurely pace. No one will bother you anyways if they do recognize your face from the occasional social media post, and you silently thank the late Bryan Murray for drafting Thomas to a city with such a respect for privacy.

Once you’re safely in the hallway outside the dressing room a small group of children swarm you. A couple of seasons ago you became the unofficial team sitter, offering your house up when exhausted parents needed a break, and the baby senators adore you. You pick them up and spin them around one at a time before giving a quick hug and suggesting they find their families so they can go home. There’s no sign of Thomas, but you don’t expect there to be, so you busy yourself by firing off a few texts to those who might want an update on your evening.

Wish you could have come! You send to your grandfather, who was supposed to make the journey up but came down with the flu.

Your mom gets Waiting to say goodnight to Tom before going home and calling it a night. The stress of all that extra time drained me lol!

Friends get some variation of Were you watching??! Holy shit and a few even get gifs that encapsulate your pride.

The shadow of your boyfriend appears from the doorway, and the tired smile that rises on his features at the sight of you makes your heart melt. Fresh out of the shower, Thomas smells like home, and you’re glad you decided to wait him out before travelling across the suburb to the house you’ve shared for nearly half a decade. Your arms find his waist and you hold him close, letting him place a kiss on your temple before pulling back to talk to him for the first time in hours.

“Hell of a game, eh?”

“Yeah,” Thomas smiles, “It was. Where did you sit today?”

“Near the front of 324,” you reply before reaching up to brush a stray hair behind his ear. “I’m beat. All that excitement gave me a few premature greys and zapped all my energy. Just wanted to say goodnight before I left since I can guarantee I’ll be asleep when you get home.”

He laughs, and you know it came from his stomach because it’s loud and strong. “You can’t wait up an extra thirty minutes for me? I just have a short media slot and then I’m out of here.”

Stubbornly you shake your head. “Go out and celebrate with the boys! You all deserve to relish the win and unwind a little. I think I overheard some of the girls say they wanted to make the trip downtown to Earl of Sussex once more before it closes.”

Thomas shakes his head almost feverishly, as if he’s afraid being casual won’t convey his distaste for being anywhere you aren’t. He places a chaste kiss to your lips before beginning to walk away, knowing Brady is going to give him shit for being late to their interview.

“I’ll see you at home sweetheart.”

⭑⭒⭑

You’re tucked away in the upstairs bathroom brushing your teeth when the door unlocks. It’s scary how fast Thomas got home, exactly thirty-five minutes after you left the arena, and you have no doubt speed limits were ignored.

“Tommy?” you call down the dimly lit staircase, “Can you bring me a glass of water when you come up?”

There’s no reply, but you hear the lightswitch in the kitchen flip on and the faucet running. Lights periodically turn on and off as he moves around the first floor, placing things in their proper spots and making sure the rooms remain tidy. If there’s one thing your boyfriend is, it’s someone who needs order and cleanliness. Footsteps finally pad up the stairs, muffled by the socks still on his feet, just as you’re pulling back the covers to slip under. It still takes Thomas a minute or two to enter the bedroom because he stops to use the washroom and hangs his suit with the growing collection in the hall closet that needs to go to the dry cleaners.

Head in a crossword puzzle and the glasses you only wear in the house slipping down the bridge of your nose, you offer a gentle smile when Thomas pulls the pyjama bottoms he’s worn for the past few nights out from under his pillow. Neither of you speak while he settles in beside you, grabbing the crime novel you got him for Christmas from his nightstand and tucking you into his side. Your head rests on his chest, and you hold the pen in your mouth when not filling in spaces so you can keep a chilled hand on his bare stomach because he’s the human embodiment of a furnace and you need to feel your fingers.

The dull hum of the ceiling fan is the only noise in the house beside the pair of you breathing in tandem. Occasionally there’s the sound of a page flipping, but Thomas reads at a slower pace than you and he keeps getting distracted by your grumbling about how the clues don’t make any sense.

“I think it’s agape,” Thomas offers with a shrug. “Nothing else fits.”

You shake your head a few too many times and end up knocking it on his shoulder. “I’ve tried but it doesn’t fit.” To demonstrate your point you ghost the pen over the blank boxes, not leaving a mark.

A laugh erupts from the body propping you up, and you feel it trickle down your spine. “That would be because you’re spelling it wrong.”

“Fuck.”

“You must be really tired.”

Instead of responding you let out a yawn, and it forces Thomas to follow. Without a word, you both put away your respective nighttime activities and turn off the lamps illuminating the room. Bathed in darkness you’re able to bury into the mountain of pillows you sleep with and close your eyes. The soft thumps of your boyfriend fluffing his pillows lets you know he’ll also be in deep slumber soon enough, and you don’t feel guilty about not extending the cuddle session. Sleep is a solo sport, and while you love Thomas to death you don’t want him constricting your movements in the night because his arms are too tight around you — luckily he agrees, and almost every night ends with a sweet kiss before you turn in your respective directions for the night.

As hell settles in for a night of deep rest, with the option to sleep in given a later call time for the travel to Washington, Thomas mumbles into the darkness, “Goodnight, mon chou.”

The term of endearment makes your stomach flutter for a split second before it rests there, blooming like a garden and warming your insides.

“Night, Tom. I love you.”

He’s already dozing off, and you doubt he comprehended what you said. You follow shortly after, a smile on your face as the realization sinks in that no matter how much of a high Thomas is running on with his career, he’d rather spend the downtime quietly with you than with anyone else.

⭒⭑⭒

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