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chronically-ghosted · 8 months

Text

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

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The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts.

Monsterfucker.

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker.

His little monsterfucker.

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker.

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker.

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker.

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him.

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom.

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.”

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it.

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer.

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly.

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.”

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.”

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.”

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear.

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow.

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry.

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts.

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.”

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.”

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.”

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.”

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement.

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .”

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?”

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.”

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.”

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed.

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.”

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions.

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids.

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased.

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.”

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass.

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood.

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?”

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth.

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow.

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.”

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?”

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction.

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.”

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.”

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you.

“What are the rules again?”

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.”

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his.

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.”

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.”

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips.

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately.

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time.

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.”

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now?

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old.

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips.

“Do you trust me?”

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes.

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his.

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss.

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands.

But sweet is not what you came here for.

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him.

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest.

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,”

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules.

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye.

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.”

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind.

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.”

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out.

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is.

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch.

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run!

But you don’t. You can’t.

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you.

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away.

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it.

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late.

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders.

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood.

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing.

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis.

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down.

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue.

“Is it going to hurt?”

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.”

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving.

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.”

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine.

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin.

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.”

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed.

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again.

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky.

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze.

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.”

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.”

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.”

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?”

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in.

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.”

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#pedrostories1k #max phillips #max phillips x you #max phillips smut #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader

123 notes · View notes

cyphyree · 1 year

Note

Now that you've finished utena and it's movies, what was your favorite part? Did you think the movie was a sequel? A retelling? Something else? Some scenes in utena are gonna stick w me till I'm in the dirt n id love to know if you had any like that :33

Omgosh!!!! This series 😭😭😭💖 ok bear with me im gonna have a LOT to say affgugyyythh endgame spoilers for Revolutionary Girl Utena the show and movie below

Fave parts of the show (in no particular order)

The third transformation scene when Anthy and Utena go to the arena together, badass, just one of the sequences ever

Utena's dorky lil stretches <3

The poisoned tea and biscuit scene

Badminton with Utena, Jury and Miki, along with Nanami ;_;

Miki's stopwatch. Still parsing out what it means but the animation and soundwork is so satisfying

The entire final act of the last episode wrecked me

Wakaba being there for Utena to help her snap out of her depression

Subsequent Utena vs Wakaba battle that breaks my heart into itty bitty pieces

The exploration of Utena's identity, and how she matured from "pretending to be a prince and the misconceptions of what that meant" to ultimately "being a prince"

Jury's backstory with Shiori and how it was visualized

Fave parts of the movie (in no particular order)

SHORT HAIR UTENA!! IN HER LIL BERET!!

The architecture of Ohtori is so cool

Love the opening sequence, especially when it pans up abruptly to the scene with Utena and her prince in silhouette

THEY KISS.

The partner drawing session

The dance <3

Chasing Anthy through the weird corridors of Ohtori after Jury's Duel

The farewell between Utena and Touga (how did they make me like Touga and Utena's relationship)

When they escape together from the maw of the castle in an explosion of roses, and the Shadow Girls guiding them and cheering them on turned out to be Utena and Anthy themselves!

THEY KISS!! AGAIN!!!!!

I actually love how obtuse and playful and surreal the series is, but in a way that's very intentional and gives you all the puzzle pieces to put together what's happening. After finishing the show I felt like I knew what it was about because the themes were so well visualized…… and then I watched one (1) youtube analysis video that made me realize that my understanding has barely scratched the surface of ANything lol. I was kinda embarrassed about it ngl, but I guess RGU is just one of those shows that do require multiple watches. I really, really do love how it's got multiple layers. I'd be happy if I could create a story that's half as clever and nuanced.

The movie was such an unexpected banger. I was told by a friend beforehand that the movie was a retelling+sequel hybrid. After watching it, to me it feels like an alternate version of the story that runs parallel to the one in the anime. Like…… a metaphor for the intention of the show, does that even make sense? I don't think the events or characters themselves are necessarily "canon" in a literal sense, but the philosophies and underlying character motivations are. I definitely see why everyone's like "oh the movie will clear up the themes of the show!! It's great!!" and I love how it clarifies the show by being 250% weirder LMFAO.

I also thought that the absurdity of "your girlfriend turns into a freakin car you drive towards freedom" was going to take me out of it, and it did at first. I was mostly scared for Utena because um that was a scary process, but tbh for the entire ending I had this huge smile on my face. And it was emotional for me even though it's ridiculous!! And that's because it's emotionally resonant!! And it metaphorically confirms for me that, even though Utena was in despair in the last moments we see her in the show, the endings of both the show and movie are ultimately fulfilling and---dare I say?---happy! Because both of them were wrung through the crucible that tore apart their identities, and they ultimately learned and grew, despite how hard and painful it was!

I'm also just so, so, so glad how lgbtq+ the characters and narrative are, and how neither show nor movie shied away from it (I was nervous that the movie was going to retroactively step back, but no, they made it GAYER). And plus how.... tactful and considerate they were when dealing with and visualizing heavier themes. Even the movie was very frank and intentional when portraying nudity. I appreciate that a lot.

What a masterful show. It's going to haunt me forever probably :)

#i typed this out yesterday but tumblr blipped and didnt save any progress rip #but for real what a gem of a show #also if anyone wants to talk to me about Utena please do hit up the ask box!! >:)#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #ask box #analysis

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bluebirdsbluebells · 4 years

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You Get What You Get - part two

Summary: One mistake. One little mistake. That was all it took for everything to suddenly flip. You knew that you should’ve stayed in that night, and you were right from the beginning. You should’ve never let the blonde from the beach walk you home, and you were paying the price for it.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader (slight Topper x reader but it’s not romanticized like at all)

Warnings: swearing… lil angst ig

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I just wanted to say that for the sake of the story, there is only one high school in town. Looks and Pogues go to the same one regardless of status, mostly because I need the story to flow easier. Ik this part is a little slower, but I just needed to get this done because the next chapter is all fluff Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part too! I really appreciate any kind of feedback or comments that you guys might have!:) Also, I finished chapter three as well, so that will be out a lot faster!!

Series masterlist

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You were terrified to go back to school. You had no idea what was going to happen. Topper wouldn’t answer any of your texts or calls, and you got so desperate that you even tried Rafe and Kelce. Neither one of them answered, and you knew that it was Topper’s doing. Rafe always answered your texts, despite how little you wrote to him. But not that time. That time it was like you hadn’t even reached out.

You were panicking. You couldn’t even finish the rest of the schoolwork; that’s how upset you were. It was such a stupid fucking mistake! You knew that you shouldn’t have let JJ walk you back. It was just the alcohol and your need to get home quickly. You just weren’t thinking straight. Topper should’ve understood that; he was the one that had forced you to go. You just wished he would’ve pick up your calls. If you could’ve just explained to him that you hadn’t meant any ill intentions…

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself as you stood in front of the mirror. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re so stupid!”

“Y/N?” You heard your father call, and your eyes widened slightly. “Is that you?”

“Who else could it be?” You jokingly laughed back, but you didn’t feel any humour in you.

You opened the door, and your father stood on the other side, staring down at you. “Who were you talking to?” Your father laughed, dramatically peering into the bathroom. You chuckled along with him, then opened the door up a little further.

“Just myself.” You grabbed your brush from the counter and slowly ran it through your hair, swallowing tightly. You didn’t want your father to think anything was wrong. To him you were always a happy kid, and in entire honesty, you were. You rarely complained about anything, and for the most part you were content with your life. It would’ve been hard to speak to your father about anything too serious.

“Your mother and I heard you come in late last night,” your father started, stepping into the bathroom. “Did Topper walk you home?” You met his gaze in the mirror. “Yes,” you lied, setting the brush down on the counter and picking up an almost empty bottle of lotion. You shook it twice, then squeezed a sizable amount into your palm, running it smoothly over your skin.

“Good,” your father breathed, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, still watching you in the mirror. “Did you have much to drink?” “A little,” you answered. “Not a ton though.”

“Good,” your father replied, nodding slowly. He was a quiet man, but you could always tell when he had something on his mind. You knew that right then, he absolutely had something on his mind, but you didn’t want to hang around to find out. You already had enough on your plate.

“Sorry Dad,” you said, pushing past him as you headed back down to your room. “I’ve really gotta get going.”

You left him standing in the bathroom, feeling slightly guilty, but you really just couldn’t take it. School, Topper, JJ, fucking Rafe… it was all too much all too suddenly.

You grabbed your bag from you bed and then looked yourself over in the mirror before heading back down the hallway, then darting down the steps. You weren’t sure if your mother was out or still sleeping, so you didn’t worry about saying goodbye. Instead, you just grabbed your keys and headed out the door, not even bothering about breakfast. You were too nervous for it anyways.

What was Topper going to do? What had he already done? Had he turned everyone against you? Told the whole school that you were hanging around with JJ? Told all of the Obx that you were a cheater? You had no idea. Topper possessed a kind of power that you didn’t even want to begin to think about, so who knows what kind of shit he had pulled.

You rolled up in front of the Outer Banks high school, feeling nothing but nerves and guilt. You had majorly fucked up. You had to find Topper, but first you had to find Emerson and Scarlett. You had been texting and calling them over the whole rest of the weekend; crying and whining and panicking. They both let you go off about Topper, and you were insanely grateful. There was a light tap at your passenger’s side window, and you glanced over, half expecting to see an angry Topper, but it was Emerson, her bright smile raising your spirits slightly.

“Open the door you goon!” She called through the glass, and you unlocked it. She climbed inside, slamming the door behind her.

“Hey,” you breathed, tapping your fingers nervously on your thighs.

“Hey,” she replied, tilting her head at you. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” you replied quietly, watching the teens in front of you. Some walked into the school while the others just stood outside and mingled; laughing, throwing things at each other and exchanging words.

“It’ll be okay Y/N,” Emerson assured you. “Topper is just dramatic.”

You sighed. “I know that, but this time it was really bad Em. He won’t answer anything.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” she said, shrugging at you. “He doesn’t want the relationship to end. He just needs some space to cool down.”

“How do you know that?” You asked sharply, instantly regretting your tone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m just stressed about it.”

“I get that,” Emerson started, “but you know what girl? Just forget about it for now. If he’s not talking then he’s not talking. Just try not to let it dampen your mood, m’kay? I know it’s tough but… just try and focus on everything else.”

You blinked at her. Emerson was always a good friend to you. She was probably the most level-headed person you knew. She was easy to talk to and even better at giving advice. Apparently she was “in tune” with the universe or something.

“Okay.” You let out a heavy breath. “Okay.” You nodded at her, then you nodded to yourself. “I can do that.”

“You can totally do that,” Emerson urged, and you nodded to yourself once more. But you didn’t feel much better.

“I just- what if everyone knows? Do you think that they think I’m a chea-“

“Y/N,” Emerson cut you off. “No one thinks that. As far as I know, Topper hasn’t even told anyone. Just take a deep breath, and let’s get to class. The first bell has already gone.”

You looked over at her slowly, a pained expression on your face. She gave you back a confident nod, then she reached over the squeeze your arm.

You had to get out of the car. You just needed to do it. With another urge from Emerson, and a quick look at your watch, your forced yourself out of the vehicle.

Realistically you knew you hadn’t done anything bad, but you still felt like a cheater. A liar. A bad girlfriend. Deep down inside you truly felt like Topper deserved it, but you would never admit that to anyone. Emerson probably thought it, but she wouldn’t have admitted it either. It probably messed with her connection to the earth or something spiritual like that.

“Where’s Scarlett?” You asked nervously, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I think Sarah picked her up.”

“Oh- okay,” you whispered, slowly walking towards the main doors.

Sarah had been your first friend when you moved to Obx, and you thought she was a nice girl, but your desire to stay away from Rafe was a lot stronger than your desire to be closer with Sarah, so unfortunately you two weren’t the best of friends. You never had anything against her though.

You stepped into the main hall, your eyes darting around for Topper, or worse; JJ. You knew the chances of him actually showing up were slim, and you had zero classes together apart from active living and media technology— both that he rarely went to. You just didn’t want anything to get any worse.

“Oh fuck there’s Kelce,” you muttered, and you instinctively stepped behind Emerson, who shook her head at you.

“You’re gonna draw attention to yourself,” she said, and then she interlaced her fingers with yours. “Let’s just get to bio, okay?”

You nodded and followed her into the classroom. You were relieved when no one tried to kill you as you took your seat. Nobody made a scene. It was fine. It was normal. Maybe Topper hadn’t said anything after all.

You looked for Topper the whole day, but it wasn’t until fifth block that he finally made his appearance. You were walking with Emerson and another guy — Roy — when Topper swung by, his hand wrapping your wrist. You instantly tensed at his touch, but to your surprise he presented you with a smile.

“Mind if I steal her for a second?” Topper asked Emerson, who looked at you first for approval. You nodded at her slightly.

“No problem,” Emerson replied sweetly, and Topper gave her a short nod before pulling you away. He led you down the hallway, then stopped right before the outside doors.

“Listen,” he said, his smile faltering slightly. Your stomach twisted as he spoke. “I was really fucking upset at you Y/N. I’m still angry.”

You felt a lump form in the back of your throat. “As you should be,” you answered.

“But I want to put this behind us, okay?” His eyes met yours, and you nodded enthusiastically at him.

“Absolutely,” you said firmly. “I do too.”

“Good,” Topper said, and he let his hand fall from your wrist. You hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding on to you.

“I’m just so sorry Topper,” you said, shaking your head at yourself. “It was completely a stupid mistake. I didn’t mean anything bad.”

“You’re right,” Topper replied shortly. “It was a stupid mistake. But you’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“And I don’t want you talking to JJ again,” he added. “That dirty fucking Pogue. If I see him with you again-“

“You won’t,” you replied shortly. “You won’t. I promise.”

“Good,” Topper answered, watching you. You had no idea if he believed you or not, but the important part was that he was willing to move forward. “Where are you headed now?”

“English,” you answered, your hands going up to fiddle with your backpack straps.

“Alright,” Topper said, and then he grabbed the back of your neck, placing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll drop by your place later tonight, okay?”

“Sounds good,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You would most definitely be at home studying. Your bio teacher had given you yet another assignment, and a bell quiz for the next day.

You were just pleased that Topper hadn’t blown up at you. It was most likely because of the setting, but the point was that he had approached you to make things better.

And the rest of the day went smoothly. You focussed as hard as you could in your classes, and you felt more and more relaxed as the day went on; it was like nothing had ever happened between you and Topper. It was smooth sailing from there.

Until it wasn’t.

You were seated in your car, and you were just about to text Emerson and ask if she was catching a ride home with Roy when there was a tap on the passenger’s window. Assuming it was Emerson, you unlocked the door and dropped your phone into the cup holding beside you.

“I was just going to text- oh my god.”

“Hey,” JJ said quickly as he hopped into the car, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Your eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Oh I’m… well currently I’m sitting in your car. It’s a nice one. Very-”

“I mean what are you doing here?” You asked, flustered. Your eyes darted back to the school, then to the cars beside you. If Topper saw…

“Oh,” JJ laughed. Was he out of his damn mind? What the hell was he thinking? “Well I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He winked at you. He fucking winked at you. Was he crazy?

“You wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“You’re crazy,” you chuckled sarcastically, shaking your head at him. “This is crazy.”

“I know. But the thrill makes it a lot more exciting, huh sweetheart?” He turned his upper body so that he was facing you better, and then he placed his elbow on to middle console; chin sitting in his palm. You couldn’t help but stare at him, and not because he was good looking — which you had always known — but because he was beat; cut up; split lip, bruised cheekbone, scabbed skin above his eyebrow. You couldn’t but feel a guilt surge through you, and your shoulders sagged.

“JJ…” you trailed off, cringing as you brought your hand up. Your fingers hovered by his cheek, but you didn’t let them touch him. It was too risky. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He waved you off. “Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

“I feel bad,” you mumbled, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. You quickly glanced ahead of you, then did a double take. Rafe and Topper were not fifteen feet away, poking fun at each other and laughing.

Without thinking you reached over and shoved JJ down. He yelped out, trying to resist you, but you hissed at him to stay put.

“Jesus Christ!” He cursed, and you glared at him.

“Shut up,” you whisper-shouted. “Topper is right there!”

JJ raised his brows at you, but stayed in place. He may have been pretty fucking stupid, but at least he listened to you then.

Topper and Rafe were still laughing with each other; they hadn’t spotted you yet. You usually parked in a different spot every day, so it wasn’t like they knew that you were there, but it was still risky. They were less than ten feet away, and if they were to look up they would most definitely see you.

“What are they doing?” JJ asked quietly, and you batted his peering head back down.

“Shh!” You hissed back. You then placed your hands on the steering wheel, and in less than three seconds your knuckles had gone white. You knew that leaving was the best option, but you had JJ Maybank in your car. He was a problem to Topper, he was a problem to Rafe, and he had just become a problem to you too. You couldn’t really kick him out though, because the chances of Topper seeing him were high. Your best option was to just drive away; pretend like you hadn’t seen Topper and that you were just on your way home. You could drop JJ off somewhere that no one would see him, right? Right. It would be fine.

“Okay,” you breathed, glancing down at JJ. “I’m going to drive away.”

“It’s about fucking time,” JJ muttered, and you gave him a look before you started the car, keeping your eyes on Topper and Rafe. They still hadn’t noticed you, and it seemed like a miracle. The only thing separating your car and them was the sidewalk, and that wasn’t much space at all.

“Just keep down,” you said, and then you checked over your shoulder before reversing quickly. You saw as Topper looked over Rafe’s shoulder, and his face lit up with recognition.

“Y/N!” You saw him call, but you pretended not to. Instead you shifted your eyes to the road and cranked up your music. It was some 80’s song that you recognized from your dad’s playlists.

“Are we clear?”

“Just stay down,” you mumbled, your fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel. You just had to make it far enough from the school. Just a couple blocks. You could find some random street to drop him off at. It would be totally fine! Totally.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” JJ mumbled, and you glanced down at him, feeling your stomach twist at his words. He said your name with a slight growl, and it caught you off guard. “Can I get up now?”

You glanced around the road that you were on and then nodded at him, deciding that it was safe enough.

“Just don’t make a scene,” you whispered as he pulled himself up onto the seat. JJ looked over at you, and then all of a sudden he burst out into laughter, causing your eyes to dart at him with panic.

“What?” You asked hurriedly. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re kinda uptight, aren’t you?” He joked, and your lips drew into a firm line as you looked back at the road.

“I am not,” you snapped back. “I’m just cautious, that’s all.”

“What’s there to be cautious about?” JJ laughed, and then he slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out a thin blunt. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What are you doing?” You gasped, one hand pulling away from the wheel to try and smack the joint out of his hands. He responded by snickering at you; placing the blunt between his lips and lighting it up.

“You can’t do that in here!” You whisper-shouted, your eyes darting between him and the road. “It’ll stink the car up!”

“Relax,” JJ whispered, taking a long drag. He then rolled the window down just enough to blow the smoke out. “See? It’s okay.”

“You can’t smoke in my car JJ,” you said firmly, your knuckles white against the black leather of the wheel. “Put it out.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, and then he turned to you. “I think you should take a hit.”

You looked at him like he was insane. “Wh- no way. I’m just focussed on getting you home before Topper beats the shit out of both of us. Now, where do you live?”

Out of the corner of your eye you swore that you saw JJ tense up, but you couldn’t really be sure, because it was gone just as quickly as it had happened.

“Why don’t you take me back to your place?” He asked, running a hand lazily through his blonde hair. “I’m sure your dad would love to have me around.”

“My dad?” You narrowed your eyes at the road ahead of you. “You know my dad?”

“Oh sure,” JJ replied flatly. “I know everyone.”

“Helpful,” you answered sarcastically. “I’m serious, where do you live?”

“Uh, right here,” JJ said, pointing to a red and blue house to your right. You slammed on the breaks, nearly rocking JJ through the windshield.

“Fuck!” You cursed, giving him a short look. “Maybe a little more warning next time?”

“I would’ve given you some if it was actually my place,” JJ answered, dropping his head to the side. “But sweetheart, it isn’t.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You sonofabitch,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips. JJ seemed to notice, and he smirked to himself, taking another drag on the blunt. “That wasn’t funny JJ,” you continued, starting the car down the street once more.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not!” You defended, but a giggle escaped your lips. He grinned smugly back at you, then put out the blunt. His fingers then began to tap along the window, and you wondered what exactly he was up to. “Did you actually go to school today?” You asked him.

“Nope,” he replied cheerily. “Absolutely did not.”

“JJ!”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck you!” You snorted, rolling your eyes lightly. “So how’d you managed to be there exactly as I was about to drive away, hm?”

“I waited,” he answered, turning back to look at you. “I knew you’d be driving some fucking fancy car.”

You gave him a look. “Just because I have a ‘fancy’ car doesn’t-“

“I never said it was bad.” JJ held up his hands. “I was just pointing it out.”

“Whatever,” you muttered. “Why’d you want to find me?”

“I already told you sweetheart. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“There’s another reason,” you urged. “I know it.”

“There is not.”

“There is. I don’t care though. All I care about is getting you home.”

JJ was silent for a bit, and you were just about to repeat your statement when he spoke up. “Why are you with Topper?” He asked, and the question caught you off guard.

You realized in that moment that you had no idea where you were driving to. Generally in the direction of your place, so you assumed it was further away from JJ’s. You thought about turning around, but you didn’t even know where to go, so you just kept driving.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“It’s not a complicated question.” JJ shrugged, then perked a brow at you. He had incredibly blue eyes, you noticed that just then.

“You want to know what I see in him?”

“That’s right sweetheart.”

“Why does it matter? You really think I’m going to tell you?” You scoffed out a laugh, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he said flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You weren’t really sure how to reply to that. You just cleared your throat, fingers tapping against the wheel. You were nearing your neighbourhood.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, shrugging at him, but also to yourself. “He always flattered me I guess. Like complimented me all the time and bought me little gifts and took me on nice dates. He was really sweet back then.”

“And not anymore?” JJ asked, his brow still raised at you. You glanced between him and the road, and then you sighed. You pulled your car up beside the large hedge in your front yard, shielding you from the view of the house. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your parents to see, but you just didn’t want to see them at that moment.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “He was just different.”

“That wasn’t that long ago Y/N,” JJ said, and you just stared at him blankly. He had no idea what you were feeling, but realistically neither did you anymore. It was always confusing with Topper; always a mystery.

“I know that,” you sighed, your hands slipping from the wheel and falling to your lap. “I don’t know why I said that, it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

JJ laughed. “I’m fucking nosy. Get used to it.” He then reached over and patted your shoulder lightly, which you found an odd yet comforting gesture.

“Get used to it?” You asked, frowning at him slightly. Instead of him giving you some kind of explanation though, he just popped open his door, slipping outside. His boots hit the road with a smack, and you frowned harder at him.

“Maybe it would be nice to have a real man in your life, huh sweetheart?” JJ teased, giving you a quick wink, and then just like that he was gone.

“Where are you going?” You called back out to JJ. You climbed out of your car, hesitantly hovering behind the open door. You knew it was risky to be seen with him. Kelce lived just a bit down the street.

“What does it look like?” JJ answered, spinning around on his heel to hold up his arms and give you a funny look. “You think I live ‘round here?”

“Well I-“

“At least I know where you live now,” he cut you off, shrugging.

“JJ-”

“You surf?” He cut you off again, and this time you frowned at him.

“What?”

“Do you surf? Come on Y/N, it’s not a complicated question.”

You peered at him, then slowly shook your head. “I tried once but…”

“You have a board?”

“I… I might be able to dig up my old one.” Your brows drew together. “Why?”

“Meet me outside your place after school tomorrow. A bit up the beach towards the cove, okay?” “The… the cove?” You questioned, and JJ just smirked at you.

“If you’re willing to trust me then I’ll see you later, alright sweetheart?”

Taglist: @tangledinsparkles @ponyboys-sunsets @heliopvth @dontjinx-it @jolomez @queen1054 @k-n-e

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #yougetwhatyougetseries #bluebirdsbluebellsfic

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katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part eighteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7450 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part eighteen: A week later Dean and Y/N are training for the Flagstaff Horse Show, a last repetition for Congress. They are enjoying the honeymoon phase of their relationship, until Bobby calls Dean into his office. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Little Boy’ - Barns Courtney (scene Singer house), ‘The Farm’ - Thomas Newman. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“More leg, Y/N. Keep rhythm in that circle!” Dean has climbed up on the fence of the large arena. His hands are folded together and his elbows rest on his knees, the heels of his cowboy boots hooked behind the lower bar. He watches a horse and rider in front of him from under his hat, picking up even the tiniest flaw and highlighting what’s done well. As her trainer gives directions, Y/N pushes her calves a little tighter against Meadow’s flank, her right hand outstretched towards the mare’s ears as they finish their circle at speed. Elevated in her stirrups slightly, she makes sure the circle stays perfectly round while maintaining the constant one-two-three beat of hooves drumming against the earth. She can hear Dean’s strong and clear voice above the noise of the wind. “There ya go. Nice one!”

It’s 6.45 AM and the sun has just risen, its early rays of daybreak warming the headwrangler’s back. The nights are getting colder, even in the valley, so the warmth is pleasantly welcome. Summer has come to an end, which means the ranchers are following a different work schedule now. Downside; their midday siestas are no longer a thing, at least not until spring. Upside, they start an hour and a half later in the morning. When he says ‘they’, he means ‘everyone but him and Y/N’, because they have been training for Congress every day.

The perfect final repetition for the big event in Columbus is a local horse show in Flagstaff, coming up this weekend. Gold Canyon ranch is going there with a truckload of horses and both Jo and Dean are competing. The head wrangler convinced Y/N to sign up as well. They can test the new freestyle and see how Meadow does in competition, since it’s been a while since she last showed.

Pleased, he observes the woman who was born to ride. They are ready, no doubt about that. He knows it; the only person who needs to believe it now is Y/N. “Wanna practise a few stops and call it a day? Wouldn’t wanna overwork her,” he suggests when her horse comes past in a slow canter, or a lope. “No spins?” she checks, not confident with leaving such an essential element out of her training. Dean smiles at her eagerness; ever the perfectionist. “I’ve never seen you two screw up a spin. Don’t worry, they are solid,” he reassures.

She nods while looking over her shoulder, then straightens her back, following the movements of her horse. When she reaches the short end of the arena, she steers away from the fence, bringing Meadow onto the straight line out of another perfect circle. Y/N doesn’t get the chance to give aid to pick up momentum, because before they are fully straightened out, her partner speeds up already. “Circle her back. Let her wait,” Dean instructs. The cowgirl tilts her pelvis slightly and sinks deeper in the saddle, before swerving away from the line. She shakes her head disapproving. Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that.

“She keeps taking over,” Y/N ponders, slowing down when approaching her trainer. “She’s a smart horse. Most of the time that works in your favor, sometimes it doesn't. She wants to anticipate instead of letting you do the thinkin’. You don’t wanna discourage her enthusiasm, so what you gotta do is keep her busy. Give her something to do, vary your patterns. Throw her off her game a lil’ bit,” Dean explains to his pupil, who listens intently. “Ride down the line again, but don’t do the usual sliding stop at the end. Don’t speed up, don’t even think about the stop, okay? All you’re gonna do is let her wait for your call.” Y/N nods, feeling a little bit more confident after being given directions. “Okay.”

She moves her reins over Meadow’s mane, turning her around, gently aiding her to hustle forward in an easy canter. When she’s back at the short end of the large pen, the rider lets her horse roll away from the fence and onto the line again. She can feel the power under her, so much energy waiting for a release and ready to bolt. “Steady... Just sit and relax. Let her figure it out,” Dean calls out, loud enough to reach his student’s ears several yards away. A little confused Meadow pulls at the bit slightly, but Y/N does exactly what she’s supposed to do. Instead of punishing the behavior, she ignores it and lopes down the line, repeating the exercise. The second time around, the American Quarter mare already has her ears perked at her rider, waiting for a cue. “Change leads. Try the same thing on the right hand.” Trying to sit loose in the saddle, moving with the thousand pound animal under her, Y/N guides her horse onto the diagonal line and crosses the arena. Normally she would do a flying change in the center, a transition from left to right canter during the brief moment of suspension, almost like the horse is skipping. However, this time the rider decides against it, making Meadow wait until she reaches the other end, where Dean is watching his pupil closely from the fence. “Smart, well done! That’s riding, Yankee,” the head wrangler compliments.

With a smile on her face she continues the exercize, working on her horse’s assertiveness and patience instead of the actual pattern. Dean has a point; she can ride the test blindfolded. Hell, blindfold Meadow too and they would still be able to nail it, but only if the mare is willing to wait and follow her lead. The third time Y/N canters up the simple straight line, the bay mare relaxes, lowering her head a little more and calmly keeping a slow and steady rhythm. It’s exactly the response Dean was hoping for. “Next straight you do the sliding stop,” he says, just loud enough for the rider to hear, as if he’s worried the intelligent horse might pick up on it and understand what he’s saying.

Calm, Meadow turns the corner to the straight line, her breaths even, loose muscles rolling under her damp skin. This time Y/N can give the Quarterhorse an aid before she increases speed, which she does with powerful strides. When the mare is going down the line full throttle, Y/N counts down. Three… two… one…

The rider sinks deep into the leather of her saddle, pushing her stirrups forward and braces for the sudden stop. She can feel Meadow’s hindquarters lower when she plants her hocks into the soil of the arena. They slide several yards, leaving skid marks in the sand, and when the combination has come to a complete halt, Y/N moves her weight slightly to one side and takes the reins with her as well. The eager horse performs a rollback, a movement right after a stop during which the horse turns on her hind quarters and canters forward in the direction they came from. “That was awesome!” Dean exclaims. “Cool her down; she’s done for today.”

Pleased, Y/N lets her precious four legged friend transition to an easy jog, patting her on the shoulder. She feels beyond relieved that her training went so well. With her former trainer Marcel, the final repetition before a show usually meant bootcamp, pushing Meadow to her limits. But Dean treats her differently. He thinks things through, looks beyond the pattern itself and can really pinpoint what they need to work on, and often it’s not the routine itself, but the preparation and the foundation of horse riding.

“She felt really good, huh?” Dean looks up at the rider, seemingly content, as they exit the arena and walk back to the tack up area. “She did. I’m excited for tomorrow,” Y/N returns, halting under the Joshua tree. “Have you seen the starting order?” Dean nods as he glances up at her, narrowing his eyes when the sun peeks under his hat and blinds him. “I have.” “I’m fifth on the list,” the cowgirl mutters, not happy about her draw. “Any good riders in my class?” The head wrangler reads his student carefully, who is clearly fishing for answers. He’s very much aware where this is coming from. It’s a trait of hers, one that used to be much more evident, yet still surfaces every so often, especially in a new situation or uncertain times; she’s insecure.

“Does it matter?” her trainer reminds her. “Eyes on the ball, Yankee. Flagstaff is just a practice run for Congress.” “Sure, but I still want to win,” Y/N counters, matter of factly. “Oh, talking about Congress…” She looks down on Dean, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I booked our room.” His brow perks up, staring at his girlfriend for a second. That seductive look in her eyes is giving him all sorts of ideas. “Our room?” “Yeah, most hotels were fully booked, and this room is one of the few I could find,” she adds, teasingly, swinging her leg over the front of her horse, making sure her spur doesn’t hurt Meadow’s neck. “And you know what? There’s only one bed.” “You don’t say,” Dean smirks, stepping closer and running his hand up her denim clad legs slowly. She nods, not dismounting her horse just yet, but taking off her western hat and hanging it on the horn of the saddle. Instead, she seductively keeps her eyes locked on his green ones, the sunlight bringing out a hint of amber in them. “We don’t have to worry about squeaky bunk beds, or waking half the ranch…” “Or Garth taking a piss,” Dean recalls. She laughs, leaning forward now and slipping from the saddle smoothly, but Dean catches her, holding her up.

The cowgirl folds her arms around his neck. “You know, I read this research paper on how sex actually increases dopamines, which results in the athlete performing better.” “Interesting,” Dean is barely able to stop his trademark grin from showing, the effort creating dimples in his cheeks. “Would you like to test that theory?” “I booked us a suite with a queen size bed. What do you think?” she chuckles, so comfortable in his arms. “Well, in that case I’m more than willing to go the extra mile for my favorite student,” he grins, lowering her to the ground, after which he kisses her sweetly.

Meadow turns her ear towards the pair when Y/N’s back brushes against the saddle. She doesn’t take advantage of her owner being distracted and waits patiently, even though she’s not tied up to the pole yet. If the cowgirl didn’t know any better, she’d claim her horse has been their matchmaker all along, casually walking a little closer to Dean’s horse whenever they rode side by side, even taking a liking to the wrangler, despite that she has never been a huge fan of men.

Dean reels the cowgirl in, letting his hand roam over her hips as he deepens the kiss. He can’t get enough of her, especially now that he has surrendered in the battle he was fighting with himself. Ever since he let his guard down and submitted to the feelings that lay deep, the weight he was carrying seems a little less. To have someone to share his life and his passion with, knowing that she’s his and no one else’s, it’s something he never expected to find. It’s certainly not something he feels like he deserves, but he has managed to push that denigrating voice to the back of his mind. They are in love with each other, that’s all he needs right now.

Dean watches Y/N after he parts from her, in awe by the joy that radiates from the girl who has such a hold on him. He has seen her beam before, when she’s amongst the crew, when he makes her laugh. But he hasn’t witnessed this level of bliss and fulfillment yet. She’s glowing, and damn, it looks good on her. Y/N blushes when she notices his captivated stare. “What?” “You look happy,” he comments, leaving a short kiss on her lips again. She smiles, her gaze drifting away as she lets her hands slip from behind his neck down his chest, analysing this contentment that she’s experiencing. She’s somewhat stunned by the conclusion; Dean is right.

“I feel like - like I’m finally at a point in my life where things are coming together,” she realizes. “I spent years of my life in books, riding as much as I could aside from classes, just to get better. I tried to find that ‘click’ with so many horses, fell off, failed...” She huffs, thinking of all the times she almost gave up. Overwhelmed, overworked. School, ride, sleep, repeat. All while Granddad tried to find her the perfect horse. “Then Meadow crossed my path.” She rubs the mare’s withers, earning an appreciative purr as the horse glances over her shoulder. The head wrangler watches the two, the unbreakable bond, the friendship that will last a lifetime. It’s an indescribable feeling to have such a strong connection with an animal, one he knows well.

Turning her attention to her horse, Y/N undoes the leather strap under Meadow’s chin and removes the bridle, replacing it with a halter. Meanwhile, Dean takes her hat off the horn and places it back on her head, earning a chuckle. He then continues to loosen the sinch and removes the saddle, humid clouds of warm air coming from Meadow’s back. “I couldn’t believe it when Grandpa bought her. You should’ve seen me; I went out of my mind,” she says, reminiscing while taking off Meadow’s leg protection. Dean chuckles at that, able to picture it perfectly. Her reaction to qualifying for Congress offers a good indication. Before he turns the faucet on, he hands the hose to Y/N, noticing the smile fading from her face. “But then he died. It took me a while to get back from that,” she admits, glad to have something to do to keep her mind occupied. Often the tears still prick in her eyes when she talks about her grandfather, but today she manages to keep them at bay. Mesmerized, Dean listens. He had guessed before that her granddad had passed away, since she used the past tense whenever she mentioned him. He never pushed her to talk about it, though, knowing that if the roles were reversed, he would appreciate the space too. “You got back up, though,” he says, hoping she can recognize the willpower it took. She nods, smiling faintly as she puts the hose aside. “I figured that after everything that he’s done for me, the least I could do was make him proud. I won State, I graduated a year early and cum laude.” “And then you ended up in this dump,” Dean fills in, trying to lighten the mood. She chuckles at his joke and shakes her head, untying Meadow.

“Actually, ending up in this ‘dump’ is probably the best thing that could’ve happened to me,” she states, leading her horse to her box, Dean in tow. “I’m learning a lot here, and not just about ranch work. It has grounded me. Plus, I met this very handsome cowboy, too.” Dean smirks. “Did ya?” Y/N hums, turning after she shuts the stable door. “Why do you think I can’t stop smiling?”

His eyes bounce between hers, only now realizing that he has a big part in her happiness. It humbles him, knowing that he makes her feel this way. Never before has he stood where he is standing now, in a relationship, let alone in a relationship with this one hell of a woman. Most of the time he has no idea what he’s doing, his gut feeling his only guidance, but apparently he’s doing something right. She has a spring in her step when she walks, her eyes shine when she laughs, and he is the reason.

Wanting to tell her she is his reason too, but not knowing the words to that song, he takes off his western hat to fit under hers and wields his lips to hers. The kiss is less playful than the ones earlier, but all the more meaningful. Her lashes brush against his freckled skin, her hands cup his face, fingertips tracing the stubble on his jaw. The cowboy’s heart grows warm, rising in his chest, the sensation having him light headed. She is everything he never knew he needed, and he’s never going to let her go.

They hear footsteps coming around the corner, but both the wranglers are too occupied to pay attention, until a familiar voice puts an end to their private moment. “Really? Could you not? I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Jo puts her hands on her small waist and halts when she notices the couple. “This is a lot to muster on an empty stomach, y’know?” Y/N chuckles after breaking away from her boyfriend, Dean rolls his eyes dramatically at his cousin. “Get lost, Jo,” he scolds, ignoring her request. “I’d advise you to get lost, because my dad is hot on my heels,” she returns smartly, before opening the door to the cafeteria, which is situated next to Meadow’s box.

The cowboy’s eyes grow wide as he quickly distances himself from the woman he held in his arms just a mere second ago, before Bobby turns the corner. Awkwardly, Dean fidgets with the brim of his hat as Y/N straightens out her shirt and wipes her hands on her jeans, hoping her tan will hide the blush that heats her cheeks. “Mornin’, Bobby,” Dean greets, trying not to act suspicious. His uncle looks at them now as if he only just noticed them, his weary eyes lingering on the intern for a short second before they focus on Dean. “Can I talk to you in my office?” he asks the head wrangler, even though it sounds more like an order. “S-sure,” Dean stammers, gulping nervously. “I’m getting my coffee first,” the ranch owner announces, before he disappears into the cafeteria. “Meet me there. You can let yourself in.”

Dean takes an apprehensive breath when the door closes, the tight feeling in his chest not so pleasant now. Y/N’s observing him; he can feel her eyes burning in the side of his head. “Why don’t you just tell him?” she sighs. “It’s been over a week.” “I think he might be on to us already,” he says, clearly not at ease with that presumption. “I just wanted to ease him in when he’s not… you know, cranky.” She frowns at that. “It’s Bobby; he’s always cranky. I thought Ellen--” “- Ellen said he was gonna be fine with us being together - yes - but Bobby specifically told me not to mess around with you,” Dean recalls, returning his gaze from the door to Y/N. “Well, I hope what we have going on here is a little bit more than you ‘messing around’ with me,” she returns with a tone. “Of course it is. Hey...” He lifts her chin up with a curled index finger, pleading to look him in the eye. “This, us… It means a hell of a lot to me. Please tell me you know that.” Her expression softens. She couldn’t be mad at him if she tried. “I know. I just wish we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore,” she admits. “I’ll tell him.” He presses his lips to hers quickly, glancing at the door before he does, making sure they will not get caught. “Save some bacon for me, will ya?” “Will do,” she promises, pushing him off gingerly before she opens the door to join the rest of the crew for breakfast.

He watches her leave, holding on to the sight of her as long as he can. She’s right; he needs to come clean. It doesn’t feel right to go behind Bobby’s back. Plus, with them leaving for Flagstaff this afternoon, he wants to be able to say out loud that he’s spoken for, aware there’s gonna be a few girls who might want to make a move on him. Not by any means is he worried he will not be able to resist the temptation, because as far as he’s concerned, there is none. But he doesn’t want to have to hide their relationship just because his uncle isn’t aware yet.

Dean puts his hat back on as he steps outside into the sun, which is steadily rising in the morning sky. Going over different versions of his announcement, he jogs up the stairs of the house, pulling back the screen door before he steps inside. Out of habit, he kicks his boots off and hangs his Stetson on the coat hanger, like he was taught when he moved in with his aunt and uncle at the age of fourteen.

The house is quiet, Ellen cooking up breakfast for the crew in the cafeteria at the stables. He crosses the living room and strolls into the kitchen, taking a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself some milk from the fridge. This place still has the same homey feel to it, it even smells the same as he remembered. He still knows his way around, even though he hasn’t slept under this roof since he was twenty. At a certain age, he wanted to be amongst the crew, hang with Benny and the other guys, and have a little more freedom. Jo joined them in the bunkhouse a couple of years later when she got rebellious and never really left, even though she still has a room upstairs.

Dean leans against the counter, taking a few gulps of milk. A smile forms on his lips when he notices some of the old photos on the fridge. Ellen always mixes them up, taking them out of albums and putting them in frames, some ending up on the refrigerator or pinned to the board in the office, others are on display in the saloon and in the cafeteria. One of the pictures portrays him on one of the first mustangs he trained, and next to him Jo on her pony, a little fellow called Ghost. He must have been fifteen or sixteen at the time, his cousin not older than ten. There’s another one of him and both Ellen and Bobby at his uncle’s fiftieth birthday; Dean was twenty-one then. The first birthday besides his own where he was allowed to drink, but he has never been a saint. God knows how many times he and Benny and Gabe started the Saturday shift hung over, before he reached the legal age. He grins at the memory.

His eyes glide over the photos, all seemingly normal snapshots, freeze frames of a country boy’s upbringing. But that’s it, isn’t it? It wasn’t normal to Dean. His life made a complete one-eighty when his aunt and uncle took their nephew in. They did it without question, never once asking for anything in return. They reminded him what it’s like to feel safe, loved, what it’s like to be a kid again.

It took him awhile before he could get past the years of worry, fear, and guilt, but eventually he found his way again. Has he forgotten about his childhood, the time he spent with his father and his little brother? Hell, no. He’ll never forget what happened, how the situation escalated and how everyone gave up on family except him, until there was nothing more the loyal son could do to stop the Winchesters from falling apart. But after all the trauma, the lesions on his soul, the nightmares, and endless regret, he found a place he calls home and is surrounded by people who, by blood or by heart, are his family.

The hinges of the screen door squeak and rattle when Bobby enters the house. Just like Dean did moments ago, the old man steps out of his boots, knowing very well that his wife will scold him if she finds dirty footprints on the wooden floors when she returns. He hobbles into the house, noticing his nephew in the kitchen. “Comin’?” he says, nodding at the office, further down the hall.

Dean empties his glass and leaves it in the sink, following his uncle. When he enters the room, he notices the stack of papers on the desk, open folders littering the flat surface. There’s an open filebox on the floor, numbers and letters scribbled in a notebook. Bobby has never been the person to keep his office tidy, especially with all the extra paperwork that comes with not owning a computer, but right now it looks like a bomb went off in here. “Take a seat.” Bobby circles the desk and puts down his coffee mug, closing the blinders to prevent curious eyes from peeking inside.

Dean does as told, a frown edging lines between his brows. The vibe he is picking up isn’t a pleasant one and he’s sensing this talk will not be about his relationship with the intern. Carefully, he reads the ranch owner, who sits down, rests his elbows on the oak desk and forks his calloused hands together. Bobby doesn’t look up at him, and it’s only now that his nephew notices how the circles under his eyes seem a little darker, his head hanging low between his shoulders, which carry so much weight. “We’re taking two of the youngsters to Flagstaff,” Bobby announces. “I need you to decide which ones, so I can send in the information to the auction committee.” “Whoa, what?” Dean says, confused. “I’ve barely haltered a handful. I thought you wanted them under saddle before we sold them?” “There’s no time for that.”

His uncle adjusts the worn baseball cap on his head, still not looking at the young man on the other side of his desk. “What do you mean, there’s no--” Dean stops when Bobby glares at him from under the hat, silencing his nephew with just a look. “Pick the two who you reckon would go for a good price. And I need you to compete two extra horses as well. The palomino stallion, you think you can show him in the four year old class?” “Yeah, I - I guess,” Dean says, realizing that riding five horses in competition is going to be a challenge, especially when it comes to time management, but he doesn’t have the courage to contradict the ranch owner. “Good. I don’t expect them to come home with us,” Bobby acknowledges, picking a folder from the file case next to his desk, flipping through ownership certificates and taking out a file. “I contacted some buyers.” “Which one’s the fifth you want me to bring?” Dean asks, carefully. “Joplin,” Bobby states.

Dean closes his eyes briefly, cursing internally. He knows Y/N has grown fond of the feisty mare; it’s gonna hurt her to see the little dark horse leave. “Joplin ain’t the easiest to ride and I can’t use her for the tourists; she’s the obvious choice. She’s good for ranch work and with the cattle, so I’ll sign her up for the cutting competition.” The ranch owner takes out Joplin’s file as well, adding it to the small stack in front of him. “The intern did some cattle work with her, right?” Dean nods. “Yeah, rode her on the trail too.” “Y/N can ride her then, they seem like a good fit. Discuss it with her, let me know if she wants to,” the old man decides, looking up at his right hand when he stays quiet. “I contacted Jody Mills; she might have some clients for Joplin.” “Bobby, what the hell is going on?”

Dean’s worried eyes study his uncle, an unraveling stare boring through the rancher’s tough armor, who is unable to hold his gaze. The weariness seeps through the cracks when Bobby rubs his forehead, leaning back with a sigh, the old desk chair creaking. “We’re in bad waters, ain’t we?” the wrangler realizes. Bobby still doesn’t look up, but nods quietly, admitting to the painful truth. He seems ashamed, as if he - the head of this family - is failing. The man opposite of him can feel the pressure his uncle is experiencing; he knows it well. Just the sheer thought of the ranch being in much more trouble than he originally anticipated has him anxious, his heart rate picking up. These lands, the company, the horses… could they all be at risk?

“How bad?” he asks firmly, even though he’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer. “I just ordered stable bedding, hay and pellets without havin’ paid for the last bulk. I can’t pay you or the boys by the end of the month, unless we make a profit in Flagstaff,” Bobby admits. “Then there’s the mortgage, bank loans, taxes...” Dean leans his elbow on the armrest of his chair, rubs his temple. “What happened to the money we earned on the livestock you sold Rufus?” “Used it on the electrical bill I was behind on and paid the city and the bank. I owed Caleb a lot of money too.” The wrangler’s eyes flick up at his uncle again. “So it’s all gone?” Bobby nods again. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

Troubled, he reaches for his coffee, taking a sip of the hot brew, wishing it was whiskey. From under his cap he watches Dean process the information, the knowledge doing a number on him, even though he acts tough. Bobby knows his nephew. Hell, he’s been living on his land for so long, he considers him a son. He knows how he values this place and the people and animals living here. He knows how much he craved shelter when he stood on the doorstep fifteen years ago. That’s exactly what this place is for him: his safe haven. And now that a storm is coming, now that his world threatens to cave, he’s losing his footing as well.

Dean leaves his chair, paces up and down the small room twice, his arms crossed and pondering on a solution. “You can keep my salary,” Dean says, “I know it’s a drop in the ocean, but I’ve got a roof over my head, that’s all I need. I have some savings too--” “Dean, I don’t want your money,” Bobby makes clear, his voice less stern. “This ain’t your cross to bear.” “Hell, it ain’t!” he exclaims, raising his arms up in despair. “This is my home too, and I’m not about to lose it!” “Do you really believe I’m givin’ it up that easy? It’s my life’s work, damn it!” his uncle raises his voice to level with Dean’s, but tones it down when he continues. “No one is losing their home. We’re just gonna have to save and make money before this spins out of control, stay afloat until business picks up again. That’s why we’re gonna bring more horses to Flagstaff, see if we can make some deals.”

Dean calms down slightly after his outburst, but is nowhere near at ease. He places his hands on his sides now, focusing on the floorboards. After a deep breath he collects himself. “We can take the large Pinto and the red dun Mustang for the auction,” he determines. “Alright,” Bobby writes it down, picking up the phone to make the call. “We’re still leaving at three?” His head wrangler nods, burdened, taking the que and turns towards the door. “Son?” Dean halts in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the man who has been more like a dad to him than his own father ever was. A few strands of light squeeze through the blinds, illuminating the mess they are in, the rest of the room dark, shadows looming over his uncle. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Ain’t the first recession this ranch survived,” Bobby reminds him, before he dials the number he wrote down earlier.

With a forced smile Dean watches him for a few more seconds before he leaves the office, the mask dropping from his face the moment he’s out of sight. With the unsettling information still mulling over, he puts on his boots again and takes his hat from the hall stand, walking onto the porch. He needs a moment to collect himself and let’s a heavy sigh escape his lungs, his eyes wandering over the scenery before him. Gold Canyon Ranch: sacred ground, their harbor, his church. The barn with the high doors through which he walked countless times, the Joshua tree that has watched over the horses for centuries. The saloon where on a good night laughs roar and beer flows. The bunkhouse, the crooked little prairie shed where he has a room and a bed of his own. And the Singer’s residence, where he knocked on the front door in search of refuge when he was fourteen years of age, standing in the exact same spot where he’s standing now.

The sun hits him when he descends from the steps, the source of light warming the earth rapidly, despite autumn approaching. A faint headache is throbbing behind his eyes already, the conversation getting to him much more than he wants it to. Bobby tried to lessen the blow and reassure his nephew, but he knows very well it’s ten minutes to midnight. He dismisses the possibility of losing everything all over again; he can’t think like that, it will only slow him down. What he can do is think of a way to prevent this train from derailing.

He attempts to leave the worry behind, because he can’t let the rest of the crew know just how grim the situation is. Thankfully, the guys have already started their workday. He can hear the tractor pulling up behind the barn and there’s a wheelbarrow in the stable alley. Garth whistles to a country song on the radio as he empties a box with large scoops, while Jo leads a saddled horse to the arena. A quick glance through the window of the cafeteria tells him Ellen already went to the saloon, probably to start on lunch for the group of eight tourists that are currently accommodating the guest houses, but he does spot Y/N, who’s wiping down the table. When he pushes open the door, a bright smile comes his way, her light burning away the dark clouds hanging over him.

“Hey! I risked my life defending your bacon, but I managed to save you some. Scrambled eggs and two buns too. Want me to heat it up real quick?” she asks, busy putting away the cutlery and dishes she washed. “Nah, that’s alright,” he says, slumping down in the chair where Bobby usually sits. “Here.” She puts the plate down in front of him, the smell of crispy meat filling his nose. He’s not all that hungry anymore, but he starts cutting the bread either way, knowing she made an effort to make sure he had something to eat.

“How did he respond?” she wonders after a moment of silence, drying off the frying pan. Dean was about to take a bite when he freezes, only now realizing what she’s talking about. Shit, with everything going on, it completely slipped his mind why he wanted to talk to Bobby in the first place. Y/N notices the hesitation, followed by a pair of shameful eyes coming her way. She sighs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Dean…” “I know. I’m sorry.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose while he shuts his eyes, feeling like an idiot. “Something came up. He didn’t call me in because of us.”

The cowboy glances up warely, noticing her disappointment. If anything, he doesn’t want her to think he just forgot, or worse - that he chickened out. But business is blending with personal life here; he’s not sure if he should share with her what his boss just told him. “Why did he call you in then?” she wonders, unable to hide the discontent in her voice. “He, uh - he wants me to take more horses to Flagstaff,” he says. “To sell them.” “Oh…” Y/N puts away the pan in one of the lower cabinets. “Which ones?” “Two of the youngsters we brought in earlier this month. Bon Jovi - the four year old - and...” Dean hesitates, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “And Joplin.”

In shock the cowgirl turns to him, staring at the head wrangler. “Bobby is going to sell Joplin?” “I wish it could’ve been different,” he half apologizes, feeling sorry for Y/N. “I know you like her a lot.” She hangs the dish towel to dry and turns to lean on the back of the chair. Her airway is closing, but she swallows down the lump that builds. Dean is right; she grew fond of the little dark Quarter. Not everyone can handle her fiery spirit, but the cowgirl could, forging a strong bond between them within a short period of time. Somehow, she never expected Joplin to leave the premises. “It’s not your fault,” she says after clearing her throat. “I’m the one who gets attached to horses who aren’t my own.” The wrangler observes her, well aware she’s trying to be professional about this. “Bobby hoped you could show her at the competition,” he continues. “I can do that,” she agrees, keeping her voice steady.

Dean absently eats his bacon and egg sandwich while Y/N tidies up, giving her hands something to do while she processes what he just told her. He watches her rinse a cloth and clean the kitchen counter, rubbing over a spot to make a stain go away. Not sure if he should say anything, he focuses on finishing his plate, but it doesn’t take long before he can’t stand the silence. “You okay?” he checks, concerned. “I guess,” she turns to him, finally taking a second to sit down. “How about you?” Dean wipes his hands down his jeans to get rid of the crumbs sticking to his fingers and looks at her, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m used to horses being sold.” “That’s not what I mean,” Y/N returns, not at all surprised that he acts like there’s nothing going on. “What’s bothering you?”

She reads her boyfriend carefully when he looks at her, dropping his gaze the moment her eyes reach too deep into his soul. For a few short seconds he seems to consider telling her what’s going on, but then he shakes his head. Worry swims in circles in her stomach, his inability to open up once again having her question herself. “It’s not us, I promise,” he says sincerely, reaching for her hand across the table when he notices her doubt. “And I wanna tell you, but I can’t discuss this with anyone other than Bobby or Ellen.” “Business related?” she guesses. When Dean nods, it clicks in her head. “The ranch isn’t doing so well, is it?”

As if he got caught committing a crime, his eyes shoot up to meet hers. Shit, has he said too much? She might be his girlfriend, but she’s also the intern. She works for Bobby, for God’s sake! This isn’t information he’s supposed to share with anyone. Unsure of how to respond, he averts his gaze, but she squeezes his hand to call him back. “Dean, this is kind of my field, remember? I can see the tell-tale signs,” she reminds him.

The head wrangler holds his breath, catching his bottom lip with his teeth, but then exhales burdened, accepting she has figured it out. Self-conscious about his own vulnerability, he runs his thumb over the back of her hand as he stares at nothing in particular, focusing on the motion. Bit by bit, the curtain is pulled back, revealing just how much this newfound knowledge worries him. “Bobby says we’ll figure it out, but things are bad,” he admits after a long silence.

She nods slightly, acknowledging his statement. Honestly, she’s not surprised. She wondered how the ranch was able to run on a handful of tourists and trail rides. With only three horses in paid training, it’s impossible to generate an income that covers the dozen others owned by the family, which can’t be sold for a fair price now that the market is at an all time low. She cannot imagine the mortgage on this enormous place. There’s employees who depend on a salary, animals which need to be fed and cared for, machinery that needs maintenance. Selling stock and letting go workers; they seem like desperate measures to her, measures which will not cut it during the economic crisis this country is currently suffering from, one that might drag on for years. It’s a postponement of execution.

Dean swallows thickly, allowing her to have a glimpse of his crippling concern. He feels weak to admit it, to admit to her that the walls around him are crumbling. But a joke and a laugh cannot save him this time, there is no way he can dance around the fact that he has zero control over the financial situation, and it scares the living hell out of him. “If we lose the ranch, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he confesses. “This place is all I have.” Hell, this place is all that I am, he thinks to himself. Because, let’s face it, when you take away the horses and strip him from the opportunities he’s offered here, he’s nothing but a highschool dropout with an old pick up truck.

“That’s not true,” Y/N dismisses. “You’ve got family, ranch or not. And you have me now.” He carefully glances up at her, taken aback by the comfort in her voice. A pair of soft eyes wait for him, strengthening her words. He mirrors the small smile she’s carrying, eased by her promise. “What if I take a look at the books?” she offers. “If Bobby is okay with that, of course.” “You - You’d do that?” Dean returns, stunned, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, of course. I mean, don’t expect miracles by any means, but I can shed some light on it. Maybe get an overview of the assets and liabilities, set up a balance sheet if there isn’t one, etcetera,” she states, making it sound like it’s no big deal. “I analyzed several large companies for my thesis.”

Impressed, the head wrangler takes in the young woman who is so wise for her age. He only now realises the intern might be the one who could steer this ship away from the massive iceberg they are heading towards. Of course she can’t magically make money appear out of thin air, but he doubts Bobby has the skill set of someone with a master’s degree in business. “You’re awesome, know that?” he huffs. “Don’t you forget it.” She grins at him, getting up from her seat and taking his plate. Before she can rinse it and reach for the dish brush, Dean’s arms snake around her waist and pull her against his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder. He kisses her on the cheek, leaning his head against hers and ignoring his western hat when it tilts to the side. “Thank you.” She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Y/N turns in his arms, trapped between him and the kitchen counter. She looks up to meet his admiring gaze, adjusting the Stetson on the cowboy’s head and letting her hands linger, wrists crossed behind his neck. “I’m beginning to understand just how much the ranch means to you. And frankly, this place is starting to mean a lot to me too,” she admits.

The morning light sheds diagonal beams through the set of four square windows, highlighting her hair and her beautiful smile. Dean drinks her in for a couple of solid seconds, before he dips down and kisses her. How she is able to vanquish his inner panic, just by offering her full support, doesn’t cease to amaze the wrangler. He’s not getting his hopes up, he knows the financial problems are bigger than she can fix with a run-through and a few budget cuts. But she’s trying. She’s doing her part. She’s here to help, not only the ranch, but him as well. And just like that, the future seems a lot less grim than it did a moment ago. They will figure it out and things will be okay, as long as he has her by his side.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nineteen here

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icecream-and-gadreel · 4 years

Text

FMK Ch. 3: Sam, Benny, Crowley (NSFW)

Series Summary: Gabriel is known for his cruel, often times deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: The game continues on, with no end in sight. You could have sworn that your choices were different...

Pairing: readerxvarious

Other characters: Sam, Crowley, Benny, Dean(mentioned) Castiel(mentioned), Rowena

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warnings: Due to the circumstances, all sex in this fic has dubious consent! Language, violence, death, unprotected sex, choking,

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

A/N: SooooooOOOOOOOO my muses took over and now I have on my hands, a pretty neat mystery. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The trickster really, really wants to make you feel like you live in this world. At least, that's the impression you're getting, seeing as you've been stuck in Purgatory for days!

You swing your makeshift axe with all of your might, a guttural scream escaping you as the vampire falls to the ground, her head rolling along the path. You stand with a heaving chest, holding your side. Your entire being hurts, from the areas where her punches connected to the calluses on your feet. Your body burns with every movement, but you have to keep pushing forward, less you get caught out in the open after sunset. That's when the real danger comes. Then again, danger is always right around the corner here. You begin collecting fallen branches, cursing yourself for ever agreeing to help the Winchesters out. Here you are, stuck in a god damn game while they're probably cutting their losses and planning your funeral. Hooting and howling break you from your thoughts, an uncomfortable shiver creeping up your spine. It's time to get moving. You set up your branches in a pile, collecting dead grass for kindling. Though it takes a few tries, you're able to create a pretty nice bond fire. Slumping down against a tree, you stare up at the sky, watching as stars begin to appear. Just as your eyes bat shut, you hear a rustling in the bushes a short distance from you, pulling you from your comfort. You dart your eyes around, sucking in a breath as the rustling draws closer and closer. From which direction, you aren't sure. You grip your axe tight, raising to your feet with a clenched jaw.

“Where the hell are you?” you whisper, a breathless yelp escaping you as someone – or something – snatches you into the bushes. Your assailant snatches your axe, and much to your dismay tosses it to the side. You fight as he grips at your arms, eyes going wide when they adjust to the darkness. Benny.

He pins your arms above your head, his legs keeping you pressed against the ground. Benny bares his teeth, a growl escaping his lips as he lowers to your neck.

“Benny –” You cut yourself off with a squeak, huffing as he nibbles at your neck.

“Y'gotta be more careful, cher,” he cooes against you, his breath warming your skin. He trails his lips to your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. “A beast far less cuddly than me would've taken you out,” he adds chuckling as you struggle in his grasp.

“Get off me,” you growl. He immediately complies with a wide smile on his face. The anger that was bubbling inside you dissipates, and you shake your head, raising your hand up to him. Silently, he helps you to your feet, holding his hands up in defense as you brush past him and reclaim your place under the tree.

“You got a nice lil camp here,” he says as he trails after you. You grunt in response, eyeing him suspiciously. Memories of running into him over and over fill your head. The only friendly face you've ever seen out here. Benny whistles to himself with his hands stretched over the fire. You keep your eyes on him, jaw clenching when you finally gain his attention.

“What do you want?” you ask. Benny stares down at you with hooded eyes, that same damn smile tugging at his cheeks. “It's clear you've been tailing me,” you add, gaining a hearty laugh from the vampire.

“Just making sure my partner in crime stays alive,” he says, plopping down next to you and giving your knee a gentle pat. When you remain silent, he chuckles, clenching his chest with an exaggerated grimace. “You stare right through my very soul, cher,” he cooes, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to share the fire with ya,” he says. You snort, shaking your head at him. 'sharing the fire' with Benny usually meant cuddling and dry humping. You think back to the past few days, sucking in a breath as he closes the space between you. Benny cradles your face, brushing a feathery light kiss against your lips. You let out a sigh of content, batting your eyes shut and pulling closer to him. His kisses are gentle, yet somehow disinterested, as if he knows these are the steps to get what you both want. There doesn't have to be any passion behind what you do. Benny leads you to the ground, yanking your pants down your thighs and deepening the kiss. He wastes no time pressing between your thighs, grinding down against you as his length hardens. The vampire swallows your moans, hands squeezing and caressing your breasts. He fumbles with his zipper as he suckles on your bottom lip, pulling out of the kiss when finally, his cock is free. You spread your legs wider for him, moaning when he grinds the thick head of his cock between your folds. You cry out as he thrusts into you, and he pauses, placing his hand over your mouth and shaking his head. “Can't be making too much noise beautiful,” he whispers, eyes darting around the area as he rotates his hips.

Benny turns his eyes down at you, eyes dark with lust and lip bit between his teeth. He drags his hips back, enjoying the warm, tight grip around his cock before bottoming out inside of you. He keeps this methodic, agonizing pace, soft growls and groans escaping his lips. “No one's gonna hurt you, cher –” the vampire nuzzles into the crook of your neck – “They'll know who you belong to,” he whispers before sucking your skin between his lips. He slowly works a hickey onto your neck, giving you short quick thrusts in the process. You arch up against him as pleasure courses through you, your edge quickly approaching. Your moans and cries are muffled by his hand, masking your orgasm as it pulses through you. Your walls clench around him, and he stutters his hips, his orgasm coming closely after yours. Benny bites down on your neck to suppress his moans, his cock pulsing inside of you. After many moments of silence, he slips his hand from over your mouth, panting in your ear.

"Who I belong to, huh?" you say, chuckling and batting your eyes shut. The smell of linen fills the air, and the ground beneath you feels far plusher than before.

–

You want to open your eyes, but the warmth of the blanket draped around your shoulders, along with the soft pillow underneath your head makes it almost impossible. Alas, your relaxation is interrupted by a knock at the door. With a huff, you lean up, peeking an eye open. A breath escapes you as your eyes take in your surroundings. Everything is dripping in luxury, from the gold trim on the walls to the expensive, humongous bed you're lying in. You shake the thoughts away as someone knocks once more, rubbing your eye.

“What?” you yell, face falling when someone shifts underneath the blankets. You rip your eyes from him as the door flings open, gulping thick. “Ro...wena?” you say, the unfamiliar name sounding foreign on your tongue. She gives you a lazily wave, flicking her eyes to him.

“Feerrrgus,” she sings, gaining a grunt in return.

“It's Crowley,” he rasps, his head still buried in the pillow.

“How my lazy boy runs a kingdom is a mystery to me,” she cooes, sucking her teeth and gesturing to you. “Your blushing bride is ready to get up, why aren't you?”

“Ugh,” Crowley grumbles, turning to you and propping himself up on one arm. You want to recoil, to find a weapon, and catch him off guard, but all you can feel is an overwhelming love for him. You run your fingers through his messy hair, gaining a cocked smile from him. “Why aren't you sleeping, love?” he asks. Before you can respond, he brushes a hand over your cheek. “Such a beauty, fit to rule right by my side, isn't she?” he asks, turning his eyes to the other woman. Rowena nods, clasping her hands together.

“She won't be by your side if you're late to your own wedding Fergus,” she says, gaining a glare from your fiance. You giggle at their antics before pressing a kiss on Crowley's forehead.

“We'll get dressed,” you say. Reluctantly, Rowena leaves the room, gently closing the door behind herself. Crowley flips the blankets from over you both, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Yesterday was grueling,” he grumbles, looking at you over his shoulder. “My body aches, my followers are idiots, and soul collection is down thanks to my part-time enemies.”

You rub a hand over his back and poke out your bottom lip. “Poor baby. At least we're one step closer to our honeymoon,” you coo. He leans over you, pressing a kiss against your lips with a soft breath.

“I'll reserve Paris,” he whispers.

“And we'll get to use those extra three inches.” You flick your eyes down to his boxers with a grin. He cocks an eyebrow, climbing over you and humming.

“We're gonna use them right now,” he rasps, pushing between your thighs. “Practice for the honeymoon.” He shoots you a wink, and this sends you into a laughing fit. Slowly, the lights in the room begin to fade to black, but your hearty laughter continues, even when the warmth around you turns cold and murky.

–

Your laughs and giggles fill the warehouse. You feel manic, elated. Your hands wrap around Sam's throat, adding more and more pressure as he begins to struggle. He stares up at you with wide eyes, gripping your wrists.

“Y/N – stop –” he chokes over the words, banging at your fists and writhing beneath you. This is amazing. You laugh even harder, banging his head against the ground and tightening your grasp. He mouths a word at you, but no sound comes.

“I wish I could stop Sam,” you say, giggling over the words. Your hands waiver, and in the brief moment of relief Sam manages to spit out one faint word.

“Trickster.” Your laughter immediately stops, and your hands loosen further. You slide from on top of him, sitting on the ground as the moment finally settles. You don't want to hurt Sam, you never did. Sam takes in heaving breaths, twisting to his side and coughing. This feels different. You grip his shoulder and he turns his gaze to you, hesitating before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “It's really you?” he breathes, squeezing you tighter when you nod. “It's really you,” he repeats, ragged breaths escaping him.

“Where the hell were you guys?” you ask, pulling out of the hug. He begins to speak, pausing when his eyes train on something behind you. You follow his gaze, clenching your jaw. That damn notebook.

“Have you...been playing a game?” he asks. You turn back to him, frowning.

“Fuck marry kill,” you say. Sam holds a hand over his throat, nodding.

“Yeah. Me too. Except this time...you were on the list again –”

“Same here,” you say.

“I lost Dean and Cas after I popped up in a different room,” he says. Your mind goes back to Castiel. There's no telling how many times he tried to reach out to you. “But...this means he's tryna make us kill each other?” he asks. “I never chose kill for you,” he adds. You frown, picking up the notebook and flipping it open.

“Neither did I,” you say, showing him the filled out page.

BENNY: Fuck SAM WINCHESTER: Marry CROWLEY: Kill

You both share a look, an uncomfortable air filling the room.

#fanfiction #fanfic #superntaural #supernatural fanfiction #my writing #sam fanfiction #crowley fanfiction #benny fanfiction #man looking for woman #i got writers block because I was tryna force an ending to this fic that wasnt connecting with me #so i changed the ending and BOOM cranked out 1000 more words #writing tips from noodle #if something isnt working let your muses take over #and take over they did!#now i feel like i can complete chapter four today too~

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lokimostly · 4 years

Note

Could we have a lil blurb of Jonathan and the nurse! I just love them so much 😭

A/N: I’m gonna assume you mean James! I get their names mixed up all the time smh. Also, this turned into a full fic. Sorry.

As always, my version James Conrad and Nurse!Reader are written with pre-existing context from the Rainy Days series.

Lean On Me

James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 1,958

Warnings: injury

James’s ears pricked up and he paused. The shirt in his hands remained half-folded as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. Either his senses were playing tricks on him, or a string of curses had just left your mouth in the direction of the hotel bathroom.

A small crash and another curse. No, he’d definitely heard right.

He sighed, dropping his shirt on the bedspread. It was dark outside the open window. traveling from Paris to Milan, a ten hour trip by train, had thoroughly exhausted you both. The city lights twinkled through the screened glass as he crossed the floor of the suite. He rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door– it was slightly adjacent, but he erred on the side of caution anyway, leaning against the doorframe. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” came your voice, a bit too harshly, from the other side. Conrad’s eyes narrowed and he paused. He knew you well enough by now to understand that you meant the exact opposite of your words. You weren’t fine. Whether or not you would resist help, however… well, he would only know once he pushed open the door.

He turned over his options silently for a moment longer before taking hold of the doorknob and opening it, peering inside the hotel bathroom. You were leaning awkwardly against the wall, your face contorted in poorly-masked pain as you struggled to support your own weight on your one good leg. Your old wound was clearly acting up again.

Conrad was at your side in an instant, lifting you up into his arms like you weighed nothing and holding you firmly against his chest. An audible wince escaped you, but you pushed away from him anyway, making futile attempts to get him to let you down. “I said I’m fine, James–”

“Clearly,” he responded flatly, letting you down on the bed, shoving aside his carry-on bag to make space for you. He eased you down with exceeding carefulness, rising to his feet to retrieve pain medicine from your carry-on.

James felt a pillow hit his back and turned around, raising his eyebrows and drawing his mouth into a thin line of annoyance. “What was that for?”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I never said you were.”

You scowled back at him, pushing yourself up and off the mattress. “I can get it myself,” you insisted stubbornly. Your injury, however, decided otherwise. As soon as your left foot hit the floor, your leg crumpled beneath your weight. You stumbled forward, hitting Conrad’s chest as he caught you against him, again. Damn the man’s impeccable sense of timing.

Your name left his lips gently, his tone soothing and calm. Conrad waited for the resistance in your arms to release, and you fell limp against him. He set his cheek against your head with a heavy sigh.

“Darling, it’s not your fault,” he murmured, eyebrows creased together. He felt your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, but you said nothing. Your chest shook with every exhale. The tension still held in the muscles of your arms as you clung to him told him that you were still in a great deal of pain, and it cracked his heart in half.

When you finally spoke, your voice shaky and trembling, his halved heart did nothing short of crumble.

“I just thought I’d be better by now,” you admitted quietly against his shoulder.

Conrad didn’t reply. For a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you at all, until you felt him press a kiss to the side of your head, lifting you up and setting you on the edge of the bed once more. He eased your left leg down as it bent, trying not to wince at your reactionary outcry.

None of the doctors had mentioned the side effects that came after a break like the one you had suffered during the LandSat excursion almost a year ago. The bending fracture in your left femur healed easily enough, but the tissue around it didn’t take as well to such a crippling injury. It had resulted in frequent insomnia, constant ache and – like what you were experiencing right now – bursts of crippling chronic pain.

Conrad was patient in playing your recovery by ear, but you were less inclined to go easy on yourself. It was beyond maddening that you were unable to walk on a whim. Even though your episodes were becoming less frequent, it was still debilitating – and often frustrating to the point of tears.

You waited on the edge of the bed, bunching the fabric of the duvet cover in your hands while he retrieved pain medicine and a glass of water, handing both to you. You downed them silently and let him take the empty cup. James returned a moment later, kneeling in front of you and setting his large hand on your knee.

You relented, giving him a barely-perceptible nod and letting out a long, slow breath. Conrad took it as permission to kneel between your legs and take your left leg up beneath your knee, running through the motions of extending it and forcing the muscles to unbind. He moved his hands slowly, with practiced care, murmuring words of comfort when your muscles contracted in pain. You held onto his shoulder, gripping tightly and gritting your teeth when a wave of pain would travel up your spine. This was something the two of you had done many times before, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Uncounted minutes passed before the pain subsided. Some combination of the medicine and the patient work of his hands finally unbound the scarred tissue around your upper thigh, and you relaxed, slumping against him.

“I can’t imagine why you put up with this,” you confessed, with lingering frustration in your voice – which was somewhat muffled, given that you were talking against his shoulder.

Still, Conrad heard you, and pressed a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you,” he replied, pulling away to look at your face. “Is that not reason enough?”

You gave him a petulant pout and dropped your eyes, playing with the v-cut neckline that revealed just enough of his muscular chest. “I guess,” you relented with childlike stubbornness. You traced your finger over his skin, running your nail lightly down the center of his chest. “I love you too.”

Conrad smiled and exhaled softly. “Really?”

You scoffed and laughed, leaning forward to kiss him, but it was woefully short, and he pulled you back for another. “You know that,” you reminded him when he finally pulled away, leaving behind the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It was a familiar, comforting smell, though admittedly cleaner than when you first met him: back then, he always smelled of firewood, too.

“You chucked a pillow at me. I wasn’t so sure anymore,” James replied, with a look of mock innocence that was almost convincing, if not for the devilish twinkle in his blue-green eyes. He ducked his head down for another kiss and you laughed, pushing against his chest, but nowhere near hard enough to dissuade him from landing one right on your cheek. You rolled your eyes. “You’re a tease.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he countered darkly, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck, with the audacity to graze his teeth on your skin in the way he knew would make you shiver. You gasped and laughed, covering his hand with your mouth to prevent him from doing anything further.

He made a muffled sound and peeled your hand away, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before letting go. His eyes met yours and his expression sobered. “How does it feel?”

You sighed, pressing your lips together and swallowing your pride. You lifted your leg cautiously off of the bedspread, waiting for a contraction of pain with bated breath.

Nothing came.

You allowed yourself to exhale and nodded. “I think I could stand,” you venture cautiously.

“Are you sure?” He asked, taking your hands. “We don’t have to rush.”

You shook your head, setting your feet on the floor. “No, I’m sure.” That wasn’t really the truth; you had little confidence in your own abilities. You did, however, have complete trust in the fact that Conrad would be there to catch you if you fell.

Conrad stood to his feet and held your hands expectantly. You took one more breath and put weight on your feet at the same time as he pulled you up with your hands, bringing you to stand in one smooth motion.

Your leg wobbled and you tightened your grip on his hands, your eyes fixed to the floor. He moved slightly, and you panicked, digging your nails into his skin for fear of falling. “Don’t –”

“I’m not,” he reassured you, adjusting his grip and sliding his hand up one of your arms, wrapping his other snugly around your waist. He held you against the wall of his chest, letting you reach up with your free hand and wrap it over his shoulder. You laughed suddenly when you realized the position you were in was typical of a slow dance, except that you were standing mostly-immobilized in the middle of a quiet hotel suite, and he was acting only as an incredibly handsome crutch.

Conrad hummed in his chest, reverberating against your ear. “What?”

You shook your head, smirking. It seemed silly. “We’re dancing,” you explained, and laughed again through your nose. “You know– without going out for drinks, the music, or actually seeing Italy.”

Conrad chuckled, stepping away from the bed with you held securely in his arms. “This is good enough for me,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and beginning to sway, holding you firmly in his muscular arms.

You clung to his shoulder, your fingers gripping so tight that your knuckles paled. You swallowed a rise in your pride and exhaled sharply, confessing your weakness. “I can’t be much of a dance partner, though. Just rocking back and forth.”

Conrad’s grip around your waist tightened and he dipped his head down, setting it against yours. “Lean on me,” he suggested lowly, his mouth hovering over your ear.

You nodded. You released any remaining tension or inhibition, allowing him fully to support you. The two of you began to sway in silence- Conrad would take a step forward and you would follow his lead, trusting his feet instead of your own. Soon you were circling in a gentle waltz, swaying to the sounds of the city outside instead of a vinyl record. His arm caught your weight whenever your leg shook with uncertainty: only once did it actually buckle, and he caught you without pause, continuing to glide across the floor.

He lifted you up and you gasped a laugh, holding onto both his shoulders before he set you down just as fluidly and continued on.

“I didn’t know you were so good at this,” you admitted coyly, inhaling quickly when he spun you and pulled you against him with your back to his chest.

You could hear his smile in his words. “I’m a man of many talents,” he admonished, trying to sound humble. It made you smirk, and when he pulled you back to face him again you reached up to plant a kiss on his lips. Your dancing slowed to a sway as his attention turned more to your lips, moving against them without hurry, tasting sweet with every repeated kiss.

You caught his lower lip gently between your teeth, and he chuckled. His breath fanned pleasantly against your skin, raising goosebumps. “I think our first night in Italy is going to be a memorable one.”

You nodded, reaching up and linking your arms lazily behind his neck, deliberately toying with the hem of his shirt. Just because you weren’t going out tonight didn’t mean you would be denied your fair share of fun. “Yeah… I think so, too.”

~ ~ ~

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#james conrad x reader #james conrad #kong: skull island #i'd die for these two #i tried to make it angsty but it turned to fluff again I CANT HELP IT I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY #un-consider-it

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vohskyfire · 6 years

Text

Top Ten 2017 Games

That time of the year again, the end of the year is upon us. And as such, this will be my last post for this year on this website.

2017 has been a year of a LOT of good games. In fact, it’s argubly been the year of some of the best games ever made being released. Nintendo dominated this year with the Switch, several games have been said to be the best games of all time, and Microsoft shot themselves in the foot, again, with the Xbox One X. So odds are there’s a lot of great games out there that people love.

Keep in mind, these are just my personal picks for the top ten. If your favorites aren’t here, don’t worry, they’re still great too! Just one rule though.

No ports. Aka no Skyrim, no Doom, no Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, Pokken Tournament, etc. Let’s get this started!

10: CupHead (Xbox One)

I’ll be honest, the first time I saw CupHead I wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it. It looked like it was a tribute to the old cartoons from the 50s and that gave it a bit of a nice feel to it. But I didn’t expect the game to be anything fantastic. Especially given Microsoft’s recent track records with exclusives (Looking at YOU, Halo Wars 2). However, come to my surprise, CupHead is a great game! In fact, it’s so good it’s the only Microsoft title to be on this list. So what exactly keeps it from being in the top 5? Well....

It’s hard. Like, brutally hard. Make no mistake people, this game will kick you in the teeth if you try to go into it acting like you aren’t going to die. In CupHead, expect to die. A LOT. And yes, just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean the game sucks. No one ever says that unless it’s someone who absolutely hates challenges. But sometimes, you gotta give the player a chance to BREATHE. And while boss fights are doable once you learn the patterns, people who AREN’T patient are going to break their controllers. A lot.

Overall, Cuphead is a good game. But goddamn does it make you fight to survive.

9: Crash Bandicoot: Insane Trilogy (PS4)

Crash is back baby. Crash is back. Okay, he’s SORTA back, but hey, it’s nice to see that Sony wanted to have their mascot back! Last year when they showed this off at E3, I went “Welp. There goes Microsoft’s chances to getting back into first place.” (At the time of this post, there is no Xbone Port yet) Seriously I was hyped, if Crash was coming back, then there was a huge chance that Spyro could come back as well. Now Insane Trilogy is an HD remake of the original 3 games, updated to modern times. And damn. Just DAMN. These games looks absolutely stunning. Gameplay wise they are just like they should have been from the past as well. That’s a good thing....aaaaaaaaaaaaaand a bad thing.

Crash 1 is still the hardest of the trilogy, mostly because the game was not MEANT for speed run purposes, and some of the hitboxes in Crash 1 are still as bad as they were back in the day. And while having Coco being playable is a nice touch, she doesn’t really change that much in the games. She��s basically just an alt skin for Crash, and most of the death animations that Crash goes through she’s spared. It’s still a wonderful remake of the original three games, and I am very happy to see that it sold incredibly well. Maybe Activision and Sony might work together from now on to do MORE Crash games? Or at least, you know...give us a Spyro trilogy remake too? That’d be nice. Anyone? Please? ...No? Skylanders still? O-Okay.

8: ARMS (Nintendo)

Oh yes. Now we’re getting into some Nintendo titles. (Be prepared, there’s a LOT of them here.) ARMS is basically what I would like to call the ‘Splatoon of fighting games.’ When they did the full presentation of ARMS back in January this year, I was one of the view that didn’t seem to out right hate the concept of ARMS. I thought it looked like a blast to play, plus fighting games are awesome. ARMS thankfully to me, did not disappoint. In the months of waiting for Splatoon 2 and other Switch titles to come out, ARMS was there. And for what it’s worth? The game is a blast to play. Simple controls that one can get use to, wonderfully designed characters, beautiful music, intense hype as hell battles, and being able to combine different arms with one another based on your fighting style is a great thing. Many hours were put into ARMS trying to get more unique ARMS to use in battle.

That’s...kinda where some of the good stops. The game’s great, don’t get me wrong, but there were some things I feel ARMS needed to be more active on launch. For one, a better story mode. Arcade mode is basically what you get. Info on your fighter, what they’re fighting style is like, and that’s pretty much it. There’s no story building, no interactions between characters, and that can KINDA hurt a fighting game this year when you have Injustice 2 showing how to do a story in a fighting game. Mind you, this is just a MINOR flaw to me.

Overall, ARMS is a lovable experience. And I’m glad to see that it got all the support they said they were going to give it. Maybe the comics will be just as good, or at least have more stuff for ARMS 2. (If they make it.)

7: Mario + Rabbids: Kingdom Battle (Nintendo)

If you would have told me that this game, this game, would be on this list this year or that I would find it to be one of my favorite games this year at the start of January? I would have smacked you in the mouth. I should make this clear to everyone.

I. Hate. The Rabbids.

When I first heard about this game from that huge leak from Ubisoft, I first thought “What? Are you shitting me? Mario and Rabbids crossover? And they have GUNS? What the hell is this? Is this gonna be MARIO OF WAR 4 where it’s a third person shooter? Come on Nintendo.”

Then E3 happened. Oh boy, did I get proved wrong by Ubisoft.

Kingdom Battle isn’t ANYWHERE close to the over done third person shooter area. It’s bright, colorful, charming, actually kinda funny in moments (that’s saying something given the Rabbids’ history) and believe it or not...

Actually...a LOT of fun.

No, seriously. This is one of the most fun games I’ve played this year. Bar none. It’s hard to believe I’m saying that about a Rabbids game that’s crossed over with Mario of all franchises, but it’s true. The game is the first huge strategic game on the Switch and I’m happy to report that the game plays damn well. Think of it like Xcom. Where you actually have to think out your strategies and make certain you know the map well enough.

The only kind of flaws I could give the game is that well...it’s kinda short. Four worlds, each with large maps to do battle, and the story is just kinda...there. Like they explain how the two series meet and everything, but it’s just...there. Not like I expected a huge story from a Mario + Rabbids game, but it would have been interesting to see them go a BIT more into it. Ah well, the DLC will probably cover that.

6: Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (Nintendo)

And here we have the first Fire Emblem game on this list (Someone’s gonna get upset somewhere). Shadows of Valentia is the first game that uses the classic gameplay the series has been known for that I’ve played since Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn (Which we’ll get into why THAT game sucks another time...) and to be honest? This game really really contends with Awakening as my favorite FE title.

I love a lot of things about Shadows of Valentia. The storyline is enjoyable, the art style is absolutely beautiful, the music is GODLY, the battles are intense and force you to be on your toes, the character models look absolutely gorgeous for a 3DS game, and the characters are wonderfully written. No joke, Alm and Celica, as ‘bland’ as they can be, are some of my favorite FE characters now.

The only thing I can really say that is sort of a draw back to this game is that...well, how it will test your patience. No joke, the maps are fantastic and the gameplay is a joy to go through, but GOD in heaven above, do some maps want to test your will to continue. Especially maps that have the annoying spell known as UPHEAVAL which damages everyone in your army on sight AND...ahem, let’s save that rant for another time.

Over all, Shadows of Valentia is a great remake of the second game in the series. If you have a 3DS, which is going to be put to rest soon, I would recommend getting this game. It’s fantastic.

5: Fire Emblem Warriors (Nintendo)

Annnnnnnnnnd there goes some of the older FE fans booing at me liking this game. Yes, the game is only Shadow Dragon, Awakening, and Fates. Yes, some of the other characters (Celica and Lyn) are the only representatives of their games, yes some characters have the same moves as others. But you know what? I don’t care.

I. LOVE. THIS. GAME.

It’s fun, it’s stupid mindless fun, and enjoyable. I know most fans may not like the fact that it’s three games over the many others, but to me? I am happy with the choices they’ve made.

Combat is smooth and stylish, like Warriors games tend to be, the animations are wonderful, the controls respond perfectly, and just seeing the way that characters interact with one another is fantastic. I love hearing them call each other’s names when they do a dual strike together. I love how over the top some attacks can get, and I love the ability to switch between units on the fly.

Yes the story’s a lil stupid, and yes they should have included other games in the franchise too, but I like it. If you want to turn your brain off, this is the game for you. It got into my list because I’m a fan who doesn’t hold favoritism over others. Just don’t be rude to people who don’t like the game, and vice versa and you might find a gem.

4: Metroid: Samus Returns (Nintendo)

Yeaaaaah, there’s a lot of Nintendo games.

If you would have told me that Nintendo was going to show off not only Metroid Prime 4 and a new classic Metriod game this year at E3, I would have called you a liar. And to my surprise, they did it. They actually did it. Prime 4 during the new stuff for Nintendo Switch, AND during the after presentation, a new Metroid title to be released this year.

Samus Returns is what I would like to call one of the best looking, and best playable, games on the 3DS. This game I could even consider it to be a swan song. Everything from classic Metroid is here. Charge shots, wall jumps, bombs, beam upgrades, etc. It’s all there. As an official remake of Metroid 2, people were happy to see that Nintendo not only DID care for Metroid, but it shed some light as to why AM2R was taken down. There’s really not much to complain about when it comes to this game. It plays well, responds well, and really teases at more future Metroid games down the line. To which I say...please give us more.

I wanna see Metroid Dread. Do it Nintendo.

TOP THREE.

Oh boy...these three were hard to decide their order. I’ll give short paragraphs for them as I feel I’ve dragged this list out long enough. That and really, I don’t have complaints for these three. These three are the best of the best. Hands down. The best games this year easily.

3: Persona 5 (PS4)

This. Game. Holy shit this game. RPGs live. And Persona 5 has shown the world, and more importantly Square Enix, that turn based RPGS still live. And goddamn, is this game amazing. Fantastic story, fantastic characters, fantastic music, spot on battle system, wonderful dialogue, wonderful artstyle, wonderful EVERYTHING. GET THIS GAME.

2: Super Mario Odyssey (Nintendo)

Easily the best 3D Mario game ever made. No seriously, it’s fantastic. If you own a Switch, you need to get this game. It’s beautiful and is just a charm to play through. Also god DAMN does it play so smooth.

1: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Nintendo)

I know. Predictable. But you know what? I don’t care. This game, this game is my favorite game this year. From exploring Hyrule, fighting enemies, discovering what meals to cook, the wonderful story, and just how much of a riveting experience it has been, I can NOT put this game at number 1. It was the first huge game this year, and I feel it deserves the praise that it’s been getting. I spent many hours playing this game, and I am glad to say that it’s my number one game this year.

And that’s how we send off 2017. Let’s hope 2018 is a good year for games as well!

PS: Also Splatoon 2 is a huge honorary mention.

#Games of the Year #Top Ten List #So long 2017 #So long

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nordness · 7 years

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[ LITTLE ME by Little Mix softly playing in the background ]

introducin’ MARGO “ARO” NORDNESS

hola, sky back @ it again with another charrie !! ( i play these nerds: @elvyras & @horrcrphile ). warning, i love my lil snowflake v much & yeah, ik this is hella long bahEE. ALSO, i'm v nervous abt actually bothering & boring people, so it would be hella appreciated if you came to me for plotties

meet margo nordness, who happens to hate her name, but instead of having her friends call her marg or argo or whatever, they call her A R O. well … that’s surely what they’d call her if she had any. anyway

her parents met during a summer festival, quickly & thoughtlessly engaging in a fling, a fling that turned into a seemingly serious relationship. after only five months of dating, they got married. her mother was a nurse & her father was a mechanic. they were struggling financially, but a bigger problem was her father’s unreasonable jealousy. he’d forbid her mom to wear skirts & dresses, for example. almost exactly a year after their wedding, aro’s mom found out she was pregnant. she shared the news with her husband, hoping he’d be as happy as she was, but no. he ordered her to get an abortion, which she refused. they got into a heated fight, he hit her & then left. later that night he showed up drunk as fuck, packed his bags & just like that he was gone.

they got a divorce & aro’s mom moved back in with aro’s grandparents, who helped her through her pregnancy, along with aro’s uncle & his family ( she has two cousins who are like siblings to her !! )

you think you’ve seen the last of aro’s dad ?? fuck no ! when she was two years old, he showed up & tried to take her away from her mom, become her legal guardian instead

for years the two were fighting over the poor child, who had to go to different psychologist so that they’d figure out her feelings, whether she liked living with her mom, whether she missed her dad and would prefer living with him instead, whether she was depressed & so on. one time they asked her to draw her family & she drew her mom, grandparents, uncle & aunt and the two cousins. no father.

eventually her dad backed the fuck away, but he was allowed to see aro on weekends and such. she hated that. she’d always bawl her eyes out when she had to go see him. she didn’t know why, she simply hated the thought of him.

later they discovered that he never truly wanted aro for himself, that he was solely trying to reach out to her mother by using her as an excuse ?? like, he wanted to get back together with her & didn’t really care about the kid. but anyway, she hasn’t heard anything from him ever since she was 15. he simply vanished, so he’s out of the picture now.

aro’s always been a good kid !! golden !! everyone knew she was THE favourite grandchild among the three, perhaps because she was the youngest & the one who had had the most problems in her life

she’s always been good at school. a straight a student. her social skills, though ? awful. she was that shy, chubby kid who always got good grades. the kind that only hung out with other quiet kids & only during school hours. she had a couple of neighbourhood kids that she played with, however. AT HOME, though, it was like she was a different child. the loudest, happiest.

kids called her fatty & would only talk to her when they wanted to copy her homework ?? she was a complete loser in their eyes, painfully boring. they bullied her so fuckin much, she would always cry alone in her room, but tell her mom that she had the best time in school

that whole thing stuck with her til high school. in high school she was invisible. & while every other girl blossomed, she remained the same. baby face, struggling with weight. dating. while everyone was kissing and losing virginity, she had tragic crushes. her crushes would last for years. in high school, she had a crush on one of the popular guys, but they only talked, like, once. but no. he was perfect in her eyes. nothing ever happened between them, though

she had three best friends in school !! three quiet girls !! they were so different, but everyone viewed them as the same. they’re still best friends, even though they’re going to different colleges.

about the whole weight thing. aro hates food, she used to live on sweet things. she couldn’t understand why she had a bigger tummy & chubby cheeks. she was very insecure. after a series of tragic events ( her grandparents passing & her uncle shockingly dying as well - this is already too long, m not gonna write every lil detail ), she lost her period for four months. after going to 10 doctors, they found out she has hashimoto’s thyroiditis & insulin resistance. LONG STORY SHORT, she’s fine, she just needs to take her meds, exercise a lot, eat healthy ( gross ), avoid SUGAR & use stevia products instead ( which is the worst thing for her ), drink hella water & only a glass of wine now & then and she should be fine. of course, she cheats when it comes to sweets and alcohol, sometimes skips meals. BUT with this new lifestyle, her body started functioning normally & during the summer after high school ended, she got a rocking body & strenghtened mentally

even though her mom ( a nurse ) advised her against it, she’s going to med school now & wants to become a psychiatrist !! she hopes it will help her understand herself, her father’s choices, & help other people live better.

when i said that she wants to understand herself, i meant her slight anxiety issues + she thinks she’s bipolar ?? she thinks. she’s afraid to talk to anyone about it, but the symptoms are there

she’s more sociable now !! hopes people will burn the old images of her from their mind

she’s a demigirl with she/they pronouns & she honestly has no idea what her sexual orientation is ,,, like i said, she’s never been with anyone.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

one or both of her cousins !! they’re both older than her & they all grew up together. they know she’s tiny & fragile, so they’ve always protected her & let her hang out with them and their friends & such. maybe one of them teases her a lot in order to make her stronger. idk

neighbourhood friends: a couple of kids who’d always go out and play hide & seek, play with a ball, run around, be careless together. aro would always forget about her worries when she was around them. perhaps they drifted apart slightly, but reconnecting after a few years would be amazing

kids who bullied her

high school best friends

roommate(s) !!

a guy she was desperately in love with ( or, she was desperately in love with the idea of him ), but they only talked once. mMmmMmm ,, does he remember her now ? did he share her feelings or would he laugh in her face if she confessed everything now ?

a half sibling ? like, maybe her father had that kid before he met her mother

a step sibling ? her mother has a boyfriend now & he has a kid. maybe they are tight af, maybe they hate each other who knows

extremely extroverted friend who drags her to every single party & tries to get her together with their other friends

literal MOM friend. the one who knows about her health issues & always smacks her hand when she tries to eat something sweet. maybe sometimes they feel bad, so they let her, but make her swear that she wouldn’t eat anything else sugary for the rest of the day. someone who reminds her to take her meds.

a person she met online. she likes them a lot. turns out they’re living in the same town. they’re supposed to meet, but aro’s anxious bc she’s too self-conscious. she’s worried she’s not half as entertaining irl.

some smooth motherfucker who’s like ,, aYE sweet mama @aro. 11/10 wants to teach her how to kiss, probably has an ulterior motive

the girl who made her realise she’s hella attracted to girls as well

#atxintro3 #@tag gods pls help me now #that song choice tho #mental health /#illness /#death /#body image /

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tumblunni · 7 years

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ANYWAY! I’mma gonna talk about my playthru of Digimon World Next Order, to distract me from the fact i’m rapidly approaching the ending and have to wait to sate my JRPG tastes on Persona 5 afterwards...

* it is really really REALLY REALLY really REALLy great to finally be able to play a game in the DW series as a female character. Holy SHIT, man this is overdue! And it isnt handled awfully like in Cyber Sleuth where everyone constantly calls you male and the character design is really oversexualized and doing weirdass poses for everything. There’s still a lil bit of ‘cliche girly option traits’ but seriously she’s like the least stereotyped design we’ve had in the games since Dusk and Dawn! She gets to wear SHORTS and A HOODIE! A hoodie that has an inexplicable hole in the back for some reason, but whatever! xD Also I actually like her version of the Protagonist Hair better, even tho I think its lame they colour coded them in the ol cliche genderedness. Boy character just has one streak of coloured hair at the front, but girl has a spiralling streak on the end of her ponytail that looks like a punk poison sort of fashion~! And it leaks pixels when she runs, and has a really nice glow effect that kinda makes it draw patterns as you swing her model around. Makes me wanna run in circlesssss~ Her dubbed voice is a bit boring cliche anime love interest tho, a bit squeaky after you’ve been hearing it for hours. But the dude is Like Every Shonen Hero Voice Ever, so i think its meant to be intentionally generic for both of them. I could swear he’s voiced by a bad Tai impersonator! XD Also I’m just kinda thankful cos every other girl in the plot gets a REALLY squeaky unbearable english voice, thank god protagonist is spared...

* its a lil bit of funnyness tho that for some reason the skill list is the only place where the translators forgot about the protagonist options. Like.. a LOT of Tamer Skills are weirdly gendered when it would have taken five seconds to change that. Why does it have to be stuff like ‘Cooking Boy’ and ‘Cooking Man’ instead of basic and advanced cooking? Especially cos the other one in between is called Gourmet Cooking...

* I love forever that so many of the virus type recruitable digimon are sweethearts of hugs and joy. Now THAT reminds me of the original Digimon World! Seriously I am SO GLAD that Literally The Same Myotismon has a sidequest about rescuing his precious myobrella so he won’t faint in the sun. or like.. if its not the same Myotismon then MAN he would totally be a great ship with the other equally helpless one in the first game XD He has a nice new function as a townsperson, instead of just being ‘a manager’ in the colloseum and never even being a fight. (That annoyed me as a kid! He just stands there!) Now he runs the card gallery, cos you collect ‘antique cards’ in this game and he restores them with his painting skillz. its a nice lil in-joke cos they’re all the original first trading card artworks from waaaaay back in the first season! And Piedmon is in this one too, yay! He’s actually like the only morally dubious virus type AT ALL, he talks like a cliche mwahaha mad scientist even as he does nothing particularly evil. His sidequest is a funny thing of playing hide and seek and he sucks at it. While yelling hammily about being an evil genius! And then he has quite a useful function in the town, he does a random effect on you once per day with his evil science, and it could be good or it could be bad, but if its bad he actually pays you compensation money for it! EVEN THE EVIL GUY IS TOO KIND And OH MAN I am so happy and sad for Skullgreymon! A good guy skullgreymon was always one of my ideas for a DW fangame, im so happy it happened for real! In this game Skullgreymon is a fashion designer with low self confidence, and you recruit them by finding weregarurumon who’s their biggest fan and becomes their first friend. Its so sweet! They never actually interact once you recruit them both tho, cos they work at different parts of the town. But im still gonna assume they keep in touch! Its also a shame skullgreymon doesnt actually run a fashion shop, cos there actually WAS a fashion shop in Digimon World Redigitize aka the one damn game we’ll never see dubbed T_T Instead skullgreymon gets this kinda depressing role of just standing around outside the entertainment area saying ‘i wish i could work with children but they’re always scared of me’, and then if you bring a newly hatched digimon to see them then they gain bonus stats from being terrified somehow?? NOOO WHERE IS THE OPTION TO TEACH MY CHILDREN THAT SKULLY IS A FRIEND

* Anyway, my main digimon are (still) Hershey and Zephyr, and I love them! I’m still working on hoping to eventually get the full terriermon and lopmon canon digivolution lines with them, wow its hard. But I adore them no matter what form they take at the moment! I ended up loving them so much that i never raised any other digimon ever. i just rename them the same name every time they reincarnate, and pick the same eggs! I’ve gotten close to unlocking every single variation of the bunno brothers evo lines!! But it IS getting really annoying that you have to type the name manually every time, why no option to just stick with the previous name? DW1 had that and it was on way worse hardware! Oh, and its funny that I started off calling them the bunny brothers cos thats what they were in adventure 02, but then after playing the game for ages I’ve settled on headcanoning hershey as female and zephyr as nonbinary. And also I started off with the cliche personalities of sassy rebel terriermon and stoic lopmon like in Tamers, but Hershey ended up being the rebel instead and Zephyr is like a shonen hero cinnamon roll! They’re both equally sassy and eccentric tho XD I’m not quite sure yet what would be their ‘canon’ final mega forms that I wanna keep them in for the final boss and stuff. But hershey’s made me regain my appreciation of Ladydevimon after I stopped liking her as soon as I grew old enough to understand that most of her fans only liked her for being ‘a stripper’ :P Like.. she’s a really damn good design even without the fanservice?? I like her way more than devimon, myotismon and etc, I wish she’d gotten to be a major villain! i mean it sucks that devimon got to be one when she’s literally his evolved form. (And yes I am happy that it continues to be canon that ladydevimon can digivolve from devimon and the same for angewomon and angemon. DIGIMON AINT RESTRAINED BY HUMAN GENDER ROLES YO) So yeah anyway, I kinda headcanon Hershey as a hypothetical less skimpy redesign of LadyDevimon? or like.. if she got her own unique Mega form that kept a similar design, rather than just being retconned into lilithmon and rosemon’s evo lines. I just don’t think the skimpyness fits with Hershey’s personality but the rest of the design just has such a cool piratey thiefy type look?? And she’s like THE BEST monster girl in the franchise, she’s the only one who really gets to be monstery looking, even if she’s still an hourglass figure sex object. i mean i always thought it was meant to be a subversion of that?? She has that giant monster claw hand and is really vicious and powerful in battle! All her animations in the game are her shredding things with it and doing the classic dracula rise-from-the-grave when she’s knocked out, and just... ITS REALLY BADASS!! I didnt know how cool a fight with her could be, cos she just got that stupid ass fanservice joke slap fight in the anime... ANYWAY Ladydevimon is good I appreciate her I like her even though she’s in the general genre of fanservice digimon that I dislike. She’s like the one single one I dont hate! (Tho I still wish we had more than like.. two un-fanservice female digimon in the entire damn series) Buuuut I dont think her design quite fits Hershey even though she’s the digivolution I keep using ingame. Maybe if I can find a different Mega that I prefer, and make up a fanmade digivolution line? or I could do a fanart variation of the digimon...

* ANYWAY I kinda ended up headcanoning Hershey as a former member of the broken apart pirate crew in Mod Cape. Cos like.. what if your digimon had backstories of what their life was like before they met you! like Gatomon in Adventure, they were chosen to be partners to a destined hero but had to wait so long they’d become disillusioned. Cos when you meet em at the start of the game they’re mega level and only get poofed back into eggs cos of machinedramon’s attack. WHAT LIFE DID YOU LEAD WITHOUT ME. I AM HERE TO PROTECT YOU NOW AAAAAAA!! So yeah it would be cool to headcanon Hershey as a former highway bandit type character who has trouble adjusting to living in a city surrounded by happy innocent people and hugs. I dont see her as grumpy tho.. like, she’s kind of a bombastic trickster archetype but she’s still super cynical and ‘I only care about myself, anything else gets you hurt’. I was thinking maybe if I designed a fanmade mega for her she could be like a magician pirate zombie demon??? Like.. yknow piedmon is a deck of cards clown guy with those four daggers? i actually got Piedmon as her digivolution when she was a Ladydevimon and I was thinking MAN it could be so cool if we had like a zany zombie digimon who attacks by stabbing a sword through her own back! Like ‘watch me saw a woman in half’ XD A design where she has a load of weapons stuck in her and uses them to fight with! like how mummymon is a mummy + soldier in a leg brace design, hypothetical zombiemon could be a zombie + actual tragic assassination victim. Plus a magician. Or a clown. And ladydevimon. And a pirate. LOOK I JUST HAVE A LOT OF MUTUALLY CONTRADICTORY HEADCANONS OKAY xD

* I don’t really have as much development ideas for Zephyr yet, aside from that they’re Hershey’s more cheerful and positive sibling. But I see them as also being kinda creepy and battle-hungry and stuff? Like.. both these twins are total virus types, clown type, typical final villain type of acrobatic doom! And both are good guys deep down. But Zephyr is a more cinnamon roll type of good and Hershey is grumpy unwillingly dragged into goodness. And like.. Zephyr is a bit dotty and only accidentally creepy, not really understanding how to socialize properly. And probably they would be like ‘NO BIG SISTER, STEALING IS BAD’ *currently stabbing a guy* I think maybe my headcanon for Zeph might be that they were for some reason left completely alone while waiting for the protagonist? Hershey at least found some companionship with the pirates, even if she became super bitter after the team broke up. I think Zeph maybe started off as a wild forest mon that’d even forgotten how to speak, until by pure chance they bumped into their long lost twin sister and then met the protagonist. So like an innocent angel who’s all new to the city and excited about everything, but also kinda fighty and dangerous because of the same stuff that makes them innocent. I dunno, I might make them an angewomon or ophanimon to match with Hershey? Tho I wanted to make them both good guy virus types, it could be an equally interesting contrast to have a vicious battle-obsessed angel who’s the absolute opposite of softspoken fancyness! And I also kinda associate them with the colour green even though I ended up picking a grey themed digivolution for Hershey instead. But all of Terriermon’s natural digivolutions are all machiney and don’t suit this personality as much... I dunno, maybe I could make up another headcanon/variant type thing? Cos after all lopmon’s line gets two champion level forms and two megas but terriermon only has two recolours for the same ultimate level. Maybe even it out, lol! Or like, I’m thinking like.. what if Terriermon had a mega that suited Henry more? i was reading someone’s review where they said it was weird that pacifistic Henry got a giant robot specializing in attack while Rika got the humanoid pacifist digimon. And yeah, that IS totally weird! And it got me imagining what if Terriermon got a humanoid digivolution that was like a martial artist?? or maybe like a speedy superhero lookin armour thing! Like just a more humanoid rapidmon! or I dunno maybe if puppetmon is in this game then zephyr could be puppetmon. I miss puppetmon. puppetmon never got to be in ANY games except dusk and dawn! I WANNA SEE A 3D PUPPETMON YO!!

* Man I just spent this entire post rambling my headcanons for silent protagonist characters instead of actually talking about the game... aaaa...

#bunni plays next order

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